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daycourtofficial · 5 months

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A Bite Sized Romance

Summary: you offer to make dinner for Azriel, but he gives you half-assed reasons as to why he can’t make it.

Author’s note: I love love love this idea it’s been floating around my head for a LONG time 💕

“Have you ever had ratatouille?” You ask Azriel, taking a bite of the dish in front of you.

Every Thursday, you and the shadowsinger go out to a different restaurant, usually in Velaris, occasionally in other courts. Seeing the shadowsinger could be difficult during the week, especially with your busy schedule, so you two set aside Thursday nights to eating dinner together.

Your brain had a hard time understanding that these were not necessarily dates, even though that is exactly what Cassian, Mor, the whole IC, and even Azriel and yourself call them.

“No, what’s rat patootie?” He says, taking a bite of his pasta.

“Ratatouille,” you correct, sighing wistfully, “it’s a traditional dish my mom used to make when I was a kid. I don’t think annyone in Velaris makes it. This dish kind of reminds me of it, but it’s not the same.”

You sit up, a smile stretching across your face. “Maybe next Thursday I’ll cook it for us. It’s so much better homemade - what do you say?”

He stills at your words, almost choking on his food. Through coughs he tells you, “surely there’s somewhere we can go for it, I wouldn’t want to trouble you with cooking.”

“But I like cooking,” you object. “And despite the copious amounts of meals we’ve shared together, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for you.”

He doesn’t want to budge, so you pull out the big guns.

You pout your lip, making your eyes look as sad and endearing as possible, “please, Az? It reminds me of being a kid again. And I’d love to share that with you.”

Mother forsake him, he couldn’t say no to your sad, puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbles, sure he’ll figure a way out of it before Thursday comes. Perhaps he could find a way to get impaled.

You squeal, “oooh you’re going to love it!”

Thursday was fast approaching, and Azriel was trying to use every excuse in the book to keep this dinner from happening. He told you Rhys had to send him on a mission that night, which you immediately turned around and went to Rhys’s office and asked him to send someone else.

Rhys, having no idea what you were talking about, sees Azriel in the doorway who tells him mind to mind, “come on, say you have to send me.”

Rhys sends the equivalent of a smirk to Azriel mentally and tells you, “my mistake, I didn’t realize what day I was telling him to leave.”

Azriel stood in the doorway and gave his brother the finger from behind you.

Azriel made excuses, all ranging from Cassian needing help with training, Feyre needing an escort to the Hewn City, even to Mor needing help with the upkeep of the horses in the guard. Every excuse was denied by his so-called family, not allowing him to use them as scapegoats. It was starting to make you suspicious.

Thursday morning after Azriel’s last ditch attempt to get out of the dinner, involving some excuse about Eris needing rescuing, you sigh, exasperated.

“Okay Az, it was just an idea. Clearly you don’t want to do it, so just.. don’t bother, okay? Go save Eris from whatever it is that’s attacking him.”

You turn, wanting to leave the kitchen before Azriel sees how much this actually upsets you. “That’s not-“ he starts, trying to grab you as you pass him, but you wriggle from his grasp, disappearing into the hallway up to your bedroom.

Az was sitting on the kitchen counter, wallowing in self-pity over how poorly he handled that situation, when Cassian walked in.

“And what do you have to be so upset about, pretty boy?”

Azriel lifts his head, looking at Cassian eating a stupid banana. Gods, he wanted to throttle him. “Oh no, I’m Azriel and a beautiful woman wants to cook me dinner, even though I eat dinner with her most nights and have weekly dates with her even though I deny anyth-“

Cassian stops, taking a bite of his banana. He looks up, and realization dawns on him.

“Oh my gods,” he says, his mouth full of banana. Azriel decides to play the denial game, because surely Cassian did not figure out the secret he’s kept guarded for several months while eating a fucking banana.

Cassian looked at him, turning to look up the stairs where you had left just a few moments ago, “you two?”

Azriel rolls his eyes, “we’re friends, yes.”

Cassian rolls his eyes even harder. “I’m not an idiot. You follow her around like a pitiful puppy,” he says, coming closer to his brother, “you two eat just about every meal together, but the one day she offers to cook for you suddenly you can’t find time for her?”

Cassian narrows his eyes at Azriel, “you ashamed of her or something?”

Azriel’s eyes widen, not only at Cassian’s question that he could ever be ashamed of you, but also at Cassian’s change in demeanor.

Cassian slips into the protective big brother role when it comes to you quite easily, Azriel thinks as Cassian puffs out his chest while he strides over to stand next to Azriel.

“Now why on earth would I be ashamed of her?”

Cassian inspects Azriel for a second before asking, “then why haven’t you told her?”

He pauses, then asks, “how long have you known?”

Azriel huffs, “known what?”

“That she’s your mate.”

Azriel stills at Cassian’s words. They liked to poke fun of Cass, calling him a dumb brute, but Cassian was no fool. If any member of his family were to discover his secret, it would be Cassian.

Azriel looks at him, “a few months. I’ve been… waiting.” He sighs, “I keep wanting to tell her and then I psyche myself out. Once I tell her, things will be… different.”

Azriel hates how quiet his voice becomes as he says, “what if she is ashamed of who the mother picked for her?”

Cassian’s chest deflates, all sense of protectiveness over you gone and replaced with protectiveness over his brother.

“Then she’d be a fool.”

Looking down, Azriel watches as Cassian’s foot gently nudges his own, a silent request from Cassian for him to look up.

“There is no way she would ever be ashamed of you or be upset that you’re her mate.”

The way Cassian is looking at Azriel makes him want to shy away, but Cassian keeps his gaze steady, almost locking Azriel’s eyes into place.

“I’d be willing to bet she has journals full of doodles where she draws little hearts with your names in it, and she also writes “Mrs. Shadowsinger”

The rise in octave in his brother’s voice causes a laugh to burst out of him, but Cassian continues.

“I once tried to sit next to you for a meal and I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as she did to claim her seat. Honestly, this will come as a shock to no one.”

Azriel looked back up at his brother to find him already looking at him, a soft gaze grazing his face.

“We’re happy for you two.”

Azriel scoffs, “I take that to mean you’ve already told Rhysand?”

Cassian starts walking away, going to pick up the remainder of his banana. “Oh yeah, we’ve had a bet for about a year now. Rhys thought the bond had snapped for her, but I knew it would be you. You’ve made me a much richer man, Az.”

Cassian bows in thanks, ducking out the door as Azriel throws a different banana towards the space he was occupying.

You had been sulking in your room for what felt like hours after Azriel’s latest rejection. You spent the whole time flipping between thinking about all the little moments that had you swearing there was something happening between you two, and each and every excuse he had made to get out of this dinner.

Was your cooking that bad? Was he tired of you taking up every one of his Thursday nights?

The two of you spent an absurd amount of time together - you ate most meals together at the house, you saw each other multiple times every day. Were you wrong?

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, but before you can respond, the door is opening and Cassian pokes his head in. He has a hand covering his eyes, but he’s made a slit between his middle and ring fingers, allowing him to still see.

“Are you decent?” He asks, looking around the room.

He sighs at seeing you dressed on your bed, pulling his hand away from his face as he walks in, closing the door behind him.

You giggled, “Cass the whole point is to not see someone naked.”

He rolled his eyes as he plopped down next to you on your bed, “you don’t even want to give me a peak? I’ve had such a hard day, a little skin would make me feel better.”

You laugh, picking up a pillow and hitting him with it. He lets you hit him, pretending to fall dramatically onto his back.

“Tell Rhys I loved him,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to die.

You laugh at his foolish antics, but Cassian continues to pretend he’s dead. You lean into him, about to poke his face, when he grabs your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Now come on, I’ve got shopping to do and I need your help.”

After Cassian had left, Azriel spent some time trying to decide how he could make this up to you. He didn’t want to force you into accepting a bond that you didn’t know about by presenting him with food.

He paced his room, his long legs gliding across the wooden floors making no noise. His shadows were combing through the house, trying to find out where you had gone after your earlier spat.

Azriel replaced with pacing with purposeful steps as he headed towards his bedroom door, the perfect solution coming to him.

“Thank you Cassian,” you say, squeezing his arm your hand was tucked into.

“For what? My incredibly charming presence?” He smirks down at you.

You scoff, “I felt awful earlier but you pulled me out of my spiraling, thanks.” You say, nudging him a bit.

Cassian had gotten you out of your room and the two of you walked around Velaris, mostly people watching and talking.

He hums, “well, both of my brothers are idiots,” he says, getting a laugh out of you. “They take turns on who holds the idiot stick. Today it’s Azriel.”

“Do you ever hold the idiot stick?”

“Occasionally, very rarely, I will pass it between the two of them, so I only have it for a moment or two.”

You snort, looking down at your feet. If Cassian thought Azriel was being stupid, does he see what you see?

You start to ask him, to prod him for more answers about Azriel, when he pats your hand, turning your attention to where the two of you had ended up on this walk.

The townhouse.

Your brows crease in confusion as Cassian removes your hand from his elbow, pats your shoulder, and tells you to have a good night.

You start to sputter, wanting to know why you’re here. He shrugs, “I don’t question my orders.” He gives you a two finger salute before turning around and walking away.

You turn back around, looking at the entrance to the townhouse, afraid of what you’ll find on the other side of the door, but going up and knocking anyway.

The door opens, but no one is there. A small shadow swirls around you, moving up from your feet to your face, caressing your cheek before zipping off to the kitchen.

You step through the threshold and a new shadow comes and shuts the door, another two come and help you take your coat off and hang it up for you.

You walk towards the kitchen, where you can hear the clattering of plates and some delicious aromas filling the whole house. Inside the kitchen you find Azriel, with a frilly apron tied around his waist, putting the finishing touches on two plates at the table.

“What’s all this?” You ask him, doubt creeping in that this isn’t meant for you.

“Sit, sit,” he beckons, pulling out a chair for you. You look around the room, covered in flickering candlelight and flowers. He must have been working on this for hours.

You look down at your plate, the bright colors of ratatouille catching your eye. You gasp, wanting to know how much effort he went to find a recipe for it.

He takes off the apron, sitting across from you.

“I… made an ass of myself, and I’d like to apologize first and foremost for that.” You open your mouth to interrupt him, but he holds up a hand. “Let me finish, I have.. a lot to tell you.”

He takes a deep breath, stilling his nerves. You look so pretty in the glow of the candles, and the slight concern you’ll hate him is enough to distract him, but he has to tell you this.

“There’s a reason I didn’t want you to cook for me. A few months ago we were in the library, reading, and I looked up and I watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, laughing at something in your book and I.. felt it.”

You’re in a trance, listening to him speak.

“I felt like I was dying and coming back to life, like your hand was wrapped around my heart, squeezing in time, keeping it beating. I made up some half-assed excuse to leave, because I needed to talk to Rhys.”

You looked at him, hoping your gaze would encourage him to continue.

“Rhys confirmed what I thought it was - the bond snapping. And I was terrified.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I was terrified if I told you, you’d deny the bond, you’d break my heart. So I… put off telling you. I couldn’t.”

He looks down at his lap, fidgeting his fingers.

“I kept trying to tell you, then I’d chicken out. Then when you offered to cook for me, I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let you accidentally accept the bond, accept me without knowing about it.”

He sighs, “I felt awful when I realized you thought I was rejecting you. Far from it. So I’ve uh.. made you dinner.”

You finally speak, “you made me dinner.”

“I made you dinner. And dessert, actually.”

Leave it to Azriel to outdo himself by finding the time to make dessert.

You weren’t letting a single emotion show on your face, and it made a shiver run up Azriel’s spine.

After what could have been hours, you slowly smiled, looking at him, “what kind of dessert did you make?”

He pauses, “I uh made you- us, uh chocolate mousse. I made two, but I thought we could share one.”

He looks at you, still not giving anything away, “if you want to, of course.”

He shifts, your silence making him uneasy.

“If you don’t want to accept it, I understand. I kept it from you, and I’m me, loving me would be rotten work- what are you doing?”

In the middle of his rambling, you picked up your fork, getting a nice helping of food on your fork, bringing it up to your mouth.

“Well, my mate made me dinner, and it looks incredible. Why would I not want to take a bite?”

He looks at you, a rush of emotions flooding him. Surprise, confusion, elation.

“But, but I can promise you to love me, to be my mate, it’s rotten work.”

You smile, “not to me it’s not.”

You pause, “not if it’s you,” and take a bite.

His chest sings, feeling warmth radiating throughout him. Feeling love radiate through him, and he realizes that’s you.

You keep eating the food, that hum getting louder and more vibrant, until you’ve cleared your plate, and stride over to him.

You grab his face in your hands, tilting his head so he’ll look into your eyes. “If you think I am not aware of who you are, what you do, your darkest parts, you are mistaken. And if you think I will shy away from those things, you are a fool.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you swiped your thumb across his cheek, swiping it away.

You smile down at him, and he has never felt so loved, so whole as he does in this moment. His mate, the one person the cauldron deemed would understand him, just chose him.

He feels like that little boy, looked in the dungeon, daydreaming about being saved by an angel. And he has.

He stands up, cupping your face in his hands, “I was in love with you before the bond snapped for me. I’m not here just because the cauldron told me to be, let me assure you that.”

You smile, a heat creeping up your cheeks. “I’m only here for the chocolate mousse.”

He laughs, a genuine, roaring laugh.

You pull his face in close to yours, gazing into his eyes. “And I have been in love with you since the day after I met you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “the day after?”

You smile, “well I thought I was in love with you that first day, but then on that second day I heard you speak, and I knew no one would ever compare.”

You feel his happiness in your chest, as if his heart is also in your ribcage, yours and his intertwined, dancing through your chest together.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his mouth so close to your own your breaths are intermingling.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, his hesitation.

“Only if you promise to never stop.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel angst

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assassinsblade · 5 months

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Forget Me Not

After a night out with your friends, Azriel forgets to take you back home, resulting in a night that will forever change your life and your friendship.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. It does not go into a lot of detail but it will in future parts. Blood, injury, death, angst, feelings, unrequited love.

Part 2

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Blood dripped from your fingertips, the hot slippery texture making your stomach churn. You could hear nothing, feel nothing, but the liquid wetting your hands and the clang of the dagger falling to the pavement at your feet.

Your breathing was ragged, the body slumped to the ground two feet in front of you becoming obscured by the cloud of your hot breath in the cold winter air. Oh, gods - oh, gods. You tried to swallow, but your throat stung, it ached, and your shaking hands didn't know what to do, your feet numb and stuck in place.

And all your brain could process at the moment was that despite the cold winds, despite the light dusting of snow intermittently making its way to the rooftops of Velaris, you didn't feel cold. Your clothes were shredded, falling in tatters from your body, your skin wet with blood, tears, and spit. But you felt like you were burning alive.

Rationally, you knew you were panicking. You were going into shock. But what did you know about preventing your body from succumbing to it? What did you know about killing?

"Help me," you choked out, barely a whisper leaving your cracked and bloody lips. "Please, someone-"

And then your shaking body was sliding down the wall it was previously pinned to, the stone architecture scraping against your open back. A hand covered your mouth as your eyes refused to leave the body in front of you, trying to steady your breaths, make sense of the situation that so quickly unfolded after leaving Rita's alone. Tears blurred the sight of the male, but the red covering his neck and chest was unavoidable.

You had gone to Rita's with the group, spending the night sipping on drinks and laughing with Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, Azriel, Elain, and Mor. It was a night you were looking forward to - you rarely saw Azriel anymore, and this night was a chance for you to soak in his presence again. To soak in the comfort he brought, the feelings of safety and joy, his beauty springing butterflies in your gut and warming your cheeks. But that's not how the night went at all. Instead, couples latched onto one another, Mor left with a pretty female in hand, and before you knew it, you were left with Azriel and Elain, Mor asking Azriel to winnow you home when you were good to go on her way out.

You didn't blame Mor. She had brought you there that night, but she had made sure you had a safe way home. That you wouldn't have to climb 10,000 steps to make it to your bed at the end of the night.

You did blame Azriel, however. Because he heard Mor. He nodded, and then he had left with Elain while you were in the bathroom, leaving you stranded in a newer environment, in a newer city, lifestyle, not nearly comfortable yet navigating through anything completely alone. You had only arrived in the Night Court a few months ago, brought by Mor from the Court of Nightmares. An old family friend who had not forgotten you or your horrendous family.

In those months, you had stayed close to Mor and became friends with the rest of the inner circle, even going as far as having Cassian give you some defense lessons - which might have just saved your life tonight. But it was Azriel who caught your attention, who made your heart yearn and reach out for someone who did not tear his gaze away from the middle Archeron sister.

And tonight was a prime example of that. Of how embarrassing you were. The shadowsinger was obviously infatuated with Elain, to the point of not even noticing your presence. He was a spymaster, and he didn't even see you. He didn't even care about your safety or wellbeing at the end of the night.

Maybe this was what your heart needed to move on. To stop hopelessly longing after him like a little girl with a crush. You had needed him to reject you, to hurt you, to forget about you. You had needed something to disrupt your perfect view of him.

And now you had it.

"Hey, hey-" Someone was gripping your face gently, their thumbs turning your face toward their own instead of the one lifelessly looking at you. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

How long had he been there? How long had he been trying to get your attention? You could only blink at Cassian in response, swallowing hard.

The movement sent a fresh wave of blood trickling down your neck and Cassian's eyes met the movement, a curse leaving his lips. His palm was instantly on the soft skin, putting pressure on the gash the male had left on you. Cassian looked the rest of you over, his jaw tightening at your body more covered in blood than clothes. Quickly, he placed your own palm to your neck.

"I need you to put pressure on that. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" His hand covered your own, pushing hard on your knuckles to show you.

When you only remained locked onto his chest, your attention unmoving since he arrived, he hesitantly removed his grip on your hand, quickly removing his coat to wrap around your shoulders.

You could barely feel the soft material meeting your skin. You felt both cold and on fire, your vision both hyperfocused and wavering, your ears both ringing and too clear.

"I'm going to pick you up now, alright? We'll get you back to the house. You're safe now."

At your lack of response, his brows dipped further in concern. But he flexed his knuckles to control his own worry and fear, slipping an arm under your knees and cradling your back with his other. He was careful to turn you in a way that allowed his body to shield the dead male from view.

Then he was shooting up into the air, his grip on you both tight with protection and light with care, and that's what finally made the tears start to fall from your eyes, a cracking sob breaking from your throat.

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When Cassian landed at the House of Wind, he rushed inside, hoping Rhys was already there waiting with Madja.

He had been unable to sleep that night, despite Nesta and himself having a good night out and returning semi-early to settle in. So he had taken a quick flight, tried to tire out his wings and body to help him rest easier. Instead, he was met with the overwhelming smell of blood as he flew over an alleyway in Velaris. He wasn't prepared to see you of all people in that alleyway.

Cassian had basically tried to scream his thoughts to Rhys or Feyre, whoever could hear him. Normally Rhys would let his presence known first, as if he had to make an effort, to appear, before the thoughts would drift to him. But Cassian also knew that Feyre had once pushed her thoughts so heavily onto Rhysand that they found him from a different court. So Cassian yelled in his mind. Begged Rhysand and Feyre to wake up and get Madja.

But when he got to the House of Wind, Rhysand wasn't there yet, and you were unconscious in his arms. He wasn't sure if you passed out from your hyperventilating sobs, from the shock, or if you truly had lost that much blood. He couldn't tell how much of the blood on you was yours or the dead male's.

Cassian barged into the main living area, his own dark shirt sticking to his skin as it absorbed the blood on your body.

He had just kicked your bedroom door open with his foot when he heard Azriel appear before him, his hair slightly mussed with sleep.

"What's going on?"

Cassian didn't answer as Azriel took in your form, too busy making his way to your bed and laying you down gently. His feet working before his mind could, storming into the adjoined bathroom to get a small towel to hold against your neck.

"Cassian." Azriel's tone was deeper now, his voice hard and rough.

But then Rhys was there, winnowing into the middle of the room with the healer in tow. His eyes immediately locked onto Cassian, and the general froze in place, ignoring the shadowsinger's plea as he felt Rhysand at the edge of his mind.

Cassian couldn't find it in himself to feel bad for Azriel at the moment. All of his own sympathy and guilt were going toward you, even if his brother looked absolutely grief-stricken.

He showed Rhys what he had seen when he entered the alleyway. He showed him the dead body he saw, still laying cold and lifeless out there on the pavement, a few feet from the gleaming dagger by your foot. He showed him the blood that trickled from your wound, the tattered clothes hanging from you before being replaced by his coat, the shock permeating your features.

And Cassian could tell as soon as he was finished that Rhys wished to go into your own mind as well. But he held himself back. Cassian knew this was for your privacy, that the high lord would ask you once you awoke if you would be willing to share anything, if you needed anything. So for now, they remained helpless.

They remained helpless and angry for their forgotten friend.

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Azriel stood there anxiously watching as his two brothers conversed without him, as Cassian showed Rhys what had occurred, what he had found. And he was left to stand there and watch as Madja quickly worked over your beaten and half naked body.

Your white cropped sweater was soaked red where it wasn't torn, the comforting fuzzy fabric now matted down. The gash on your neck slowly began to bubble with blood instead of drip down your neck. But this did nothing to reassure the shadowsinger. Your lip was split, your cheekbone and undereye cut open and beginning to bruise. And as Azriel's gaze drifted lower, he physically had to steady himself on his feet. His mind roared, his vision turning red as he took in the sight of your black pants, unbuttoned.

Azriel was breathing heavily, trying to contain his rising emotions. His fists clenched, his feet begging him to move, to do something.

As soon as Rhys' gaze moved to you, his jaw clenching, Azriel was speaking, the words coming out through clenched teeth. "Someone tell me what the hell happened."

Rhys only looked at you. It was silent for far too long before the high lord's smooth voice cut into the once cozy room. "Why was she alone."

The words did not come out as a question but as a demand. A high lord commanding an answer.

Azriel felt his stomach drop. Rhys and Feyre had left Rita's first, followed by Cassian and Nesta. Which left Mor and Azriel responsible for escorting Elain and you home. His mind replayed Mor's request to him as she grabbed her things. Get her home safe, will you?

And Azriel had agreed. He had agreed and then left. The look of devastation and self-hatred on the shadowsinger's face was enough to answer the high lord's question.

"Everyone get out. Let Madja do her work," was all Rhysand said though. And Azriel wished one of them would hit him, because somehow the disappointment drifting through the room was so much worse.

He had forgotten about you. He had been so fixated on Elain that he had left you to walk through Velaris in the middle of the night alone. He had expected you to somehow find your way back to the House of Wind, to climb 10,000 steps after drinking. And someone had...

Azriel felt like he was going to be sick.

He had been late to saving countless people. There were so many deaths and injuries on his shoulders, sometimes he found it difficult to breathe with their weight. But he always tried. He took honor in protecting his friends, in guarding the borders of Velaris, in protecting his court. Never has something of this sort happened because of him.

Azriel felt Cassian's hand grip his shoulder lightly, guiding him out of your room. He wished he could get one last breath of your scent, to make sure you were there and alive and alright, but all he could smell was the metallic scent of your blood. The scent stuck to his nostrils as Cassian guided him out onto the landing of the house, like he knew by Azriel's expression what was coming.

And then the shadowsinger turned to the side, dodging his brother, and emptied his stomach onto the concrete.

There were tears in his eyes when he finished, but he stayed hunched over, gripping his chest. "What have I done?"

Cassian was quiet for a moment before sighing, his grip on Azriel's shoulder tightening. "You are not the male down in that alleyway. You don't take blame for his crimes."

But Azriel shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight as he tried to get the image of your assaulted body out of his mind. "I was supposed to take her home. I left her there, Cassian."

And then Cassian was speechless, his brows furrowing as he watched him unravel, unsure of what to say.

"Oh, gods," Azriel got out, his knees giving out beneath him as the weight of the situation settled over him. His sobs breaking through the quiet night around them.

"I'm sorry-" Azriel repeated over and over, not even feeling Cassian move to crouch next to him in an attempt to comfort the devastated male. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Cassian only shushed him, but Azriel couldn't stop as his chest cleaved open underneath his fingertips, as he imagined the confusion and hurt that flowed through you when you realized he had left, the anxiety and weariness as you tried to find your way home, the fear at the male approaching you.

All while he was with Elain, soaring through the sky and gazing at stars.

He had never hated himself more.

And he could never make this up to you.

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #acotar imagine #azriel/reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader

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ephemeralsx · 1 year

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nesta is less impressive than feyre 1000% but we don’t gotta agree! for me? nesta was a straight mary sue training for a few weeks and sjm having the audacity to have the three of them compete in that blood rite and “earn” a title tbh. feyre died and actually earned her powers utm by winning those trials and figuring out the riddle then saving their entire country, therefore being gifted with her resurrection/powers.

what else has nesta done…kill a kelpie? chop off a choking man’s head after he got stabbed by elain and hold his head up in a cool savage way..? feyre helped saved adriata, an actual court, from hybern with mor in combat and winnow style, helped saved the citizens of velaris by using her powers to freeze all her opponents and choke them, jumped mid air to brutally kill hyberns lieutenant’s that helped lead the raid, she saved prythian a second time by her and rhys forging the cauldron back together with her hands. im just trying to tick through them while also being fair..nesta told beron to help with the humans is that one? eris ultimately had to force his dad out to go help in the war and said that’s how it happened himself when he told feysand how they ended up there, there was no mention of “nesta convinced beron and autumn to come help in the war” did she help with the human queens? ultimately they ended up betraying the night court and only helped with the book bc of rhys sending the letter about being in love with feyre and wanting to save the humans for her.

she barely trained with the powers she had..am i missing the impressive parts? people make her sound far more impressive than she is funnily enough but again we don’t have to agree. if i’m missing any badass moments feel free to help me out here. she walked to the wall for feyre? feyre would’ve kept going back to the wall and wouldn’t have given up on trying to find her sister, might be a bit unfair but true, she went once and gave up, the gesture was sweet and heartfelt but what did she do? she never saved feyre and anytime elain got saved? it was feyre and az saving her

her one standout moment is saving feyre, rhys and nyx’s lives. and the other was when she weilded the trove in the prison (but anyone can wield the trove so we’ll get to see another character so the same thing in the next books, bc we know someone else likely will be using the crown, mask or harp, the swords are nesta’s but not the others. she’ll have the rest of the powers that are left over and her swords or im guessing that’s how it’ll go. maybe she’ll raise another dead army? that was cool too and would be sick? aside from this, feyre again easily is more impressive as a character.

just because nesta lashes out with her emotions at others and that’s relatable doesn’t make her the most complex character either, we’ve seen all of them lash out in anger or have cold/badass moments, again some of y’all make her sound WAY more interesting and badass than she really is. She did a few things in one book and suddenly she’s a warrior to her fans despite barely being trained? Please 😂

first of all let me just say that i love your strong opinion and that you don’t beat around the bush. kinda refreshing hahaha

i do agree with the fact that feyre had more accomplishments if you list everything from the past 4 books. however i think nesta is impressing not because of her accomplishments but because of her growth in her character. she obviously had/has a lot of mental problems and to overcome them is not an easy thing, especially if you don’t have anyone you can rely on. trauma is a bitch. so yes, feyre was more “badass”, but for me nesta is equally impressive in other matters.

i do agree with the warriors part. training for like not even 4 months and winning the blood rite? ehh, i was proud of them but it was so unrealistic and i would have preferred it if they didn’t win. BUT what i too find unrealistic that feyre became high lady so easily. don’t get me wrong, i love that for her, but she was illiterate not even 2 years ago and now she has this great responsibility that is definitely too big for a 21 year old. but she seems to manage pretty well, so i’m not trying to demean her or anything but the hugh lady situation is the same as the warrior situation with nesta: both pretty unrealistic.

but i think that’s digging too deep since it’s just fiction so i guess anything is possible.

#feyre archeron #nesta archeron #acotar

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yabai-korra · 3 years

Text

Rhysand's "problematic" behavior towards Feyre in ACOTAR

I have just finished reading A Court of Thorns and Roses. I have been in book fandom for a while so I've heard criticism towards this particular relationship and author, so here I am debunking/explaining why that criticism isn't justified. Not saying you can't dislike the book obviously, but a lot of bad things said about this came from a place of ignorance and not reading in between the lines nor with full attention.

Now, if you're a passionate anti with no chance for changing your opinion, please do turn around and look at posts about something you enjoy :) Let's all stay in line and be civil, I am merely going to explain something a lot of people seemed to have missed in this book.

Words in blue are quotes.

First of all, lemme say that I totally understand why someone would think this book is "problematic", it seemed that way to me as well at first but when you read carefully and in between the lines it's not problematic, dark yes, hence why it's new adult and not young adult, but not problematic.

Rhys definitely does bad things to Feyre and comes off as an asshole at first, which is why I hated him, but if you approach it more carefully you'll see that there is a lot more beneath the surface.

Feyre has two moods while Under the Mountain - depressed and angry at Rhys. Rhys, as he states himself, is on Feyre's side, because he, much like everyone, hates Amarantha and wants Feyre to succeed in freeing them.

Something I haven't noticed immediately is how Feyre is sinking deeper and deeper into depression and some dark corner of her mind, and every time she bounces back is with Rhysand. He makes her angry, because that is the only emotion he is capable to provoke in her and the only one that would keep her from falling apart. Being lovey-dovey or friendly or sad, as we have seen Tam and Lucian were with her, didn't help, it just made her more depressed.

By keeping her angry he is keeping her alive: "It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely."

To be fair I gotta add that it wasn't his only way of keeping her alive; he healed her arm, did one of the tasks for her to keep her from being roasted, and led her to the correct answer on her second trial.

Also, something really important, he forcefully kissed her. When I read that I was furious and wanted to kick him honestly and I am not excusing him whatsoever, and imo he could have been a little more gentle, but he did that in order for Amarantha to believe it was him who kissed her, not Tamlin who was kissing her before. If Amarantha saw Feyre and Tamlin together, which is something Rhys interrupted, she would have gone wild because she is obsessed with Tamlin. Not only did Rhys save both of them (and Lucien, for that matter, because Amarantha kept pushing him in Tamlin's place) through his shady method I in no way approve of, immediately after his mood shifts. He knows Amarantha for 50 years, and he knew he'd take the punishment for kissing Feyre, which was, sadly the thing Amarantha is doing to him all the time, r*pe, which was obviously worse than usual because he was in a very mental state afterward: His tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and he ran a hand through his blue-black hair before he wordlessly slumped against the wall across from me and slid to the floor. “What do you want?” I demanded. “A moment of peace and quiet,” he snapped, rubbing his temples. I paused. “From what?” He massaged his pale skin, making the corners of his eyes go up and down, out and in. He sighed. “From this mess.” I sat up farther on my pallet of hay. I’d never seen him so candid. “That damned bitch is running me ragged,” he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall. “You hate me. Imagine how you’d feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I’m High Lord of the Night Court—not her harlot.”

Again, I am not excusing his actions because it was not okay, but he took r*pe as a punishment for the forcful kiss so Feyre and Tamlin wouldn't get something worse, which was probably death. He, once again, did a bad thing to prevent a horrible thing, but this time suffered himself as well. I personally, as a reader, can get over that, if you can't that's totally fine.

"If he hadn’t been kissing me, if he hadn’t shown up and interrupted us, I would have gone out into that throne room covered in smudged paint. And everyone—especially Amarantha—would have known what I’d been up to. It wouldn’t have taken much to figure out whom I’d been with, especially not once they saw the paint on Tamlin. I didn’t want to consider what the punishment might have been."

Feyre herself at one point starts looking forward to seeing Rhys and going to the parties with him and drinking glamoured wine, because it is the only rest her tortured mind can get: "A permanent darkness settled over me, and I began to look forward to the moment when Rhysand gave me that goblet of faerie wine and I could lose myself for a few hours. I stopped contemplating Amarantha’s riddle—it was impossible. Especially for an illiterate, ignorant human. Thinking of Tamlin made everything worse."

All he is doing, whether good or bad, is to help her succeed. I am not saying his actions are to be excused, but they are definitely reasoned. He isn't an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. His way of helping Feyre was a messed up one, but it was the only way. He was doing bad things (while also keeping certain boundaries) to prevent a horrible thing, which would be Feyre mentally shattering.

Feyre herself is in a similar situation at the end of the book, the only way to free everyone from Amarantha was to finish the final trial, which was to kill three (actually two) faeries. Murder is obviously wrong and something that can't be excused (except for Amarantha she deserved it), but taking two lives to save thousands was the only reasonable thing to do, and that's why Feyre did it even though she was disgusted by the deed. The same thing happened with Rhys, it just wasn't as clear and simple.

"Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain."

It is definitely DARK, and definitely not something that could be applied to a real-life situation.

I hope it helped clear that up, I'm not saying you should like Rhys or the series, I personally do enjoy a more dark and complicated story and characters, I hope if you're not a fan that you have plenty of other books to enjoy :)

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #rhys #feyre archeron #pro rhysand #pro feyre #pro feysand #tamlin #lucien #amarantha #sjm #sarah j maas #pro sjm

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separatist-apologist · 3 years

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You should do a one shot of Elain letting her inner fire out and yelling at the IC about using Elain to control Lucien AND going on and on about Lucien failing Feyre in Spring. (I mean we all know Tamlin abused Lucien both mentally and physically and its a bit hard to take care of someone else when you are being abused yourself. Ya feel me? HA)

This will be done more elegantly if you're reading I Know Places. I also can't help but feel like my Elucien reputation is becoming Night Court slander. This is my preface by saying I LIKE (most) of the IC, so this isn't dunking on any one person or being an anti.

Anyway don't send me hate if you don't like this (Send me Eris X Elain brotp prompts instead!!!)

Elain stomped through the city streets of Velaris, furious. Lucien was back in the city again, and yet he hadn’t come to visit. Things had been rocky, sure, but she thought they were doing better. They’d been exchanging letters weekly, she’d made him dinner—granted, at his apartment—and they’d even had that sweet kiss she still daydreamed about to the exclusion of all else. Yet, for the fourth time in six months, Lucien had come to Velaris, met with Rhysand, with Azriel, with Feyre, but not her. She’d been quietly polite about it the first time. He was a busy man, after all and probably had somewhere to be in the morning. She’d been quiet but less polite the second and third time, allowing her self-doubt and insecurity to creep in but now she was just mad.

If he didn’t want to see her, he should just say so.After four years of yearning and avoidance to get to where they were, which was practically no where given how far away he chose to occupy his time, he at least owed her an explanation.

She pounded on the blue front door that comprised his little town house. She heard scuffling and a muffled crash before the door flung open.

“Elain,” he breathed, clearly not prepared to see her, given how disheveled he looked. “To what do I—”

“Why are you avoiding me?” She demanded, crossing her arms over the silver cloak she wore. Frigid wind whistled around them, biting at her cheeks though she hardly felt the chill over her hurt and anger. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Ah…come inside,” he urged, stepping out of the way to let her in. Elain did as he asked, mostly to prevent making a visible scene she knew would work its way back to Rhysand and his inner circle.

“I understand if you’re too busy to spend time but not even a note?” She rounded on him once they were out of the foyer and in his living room. He reached for her cloak, ever the gentleman but Elain swatted his hand away.

“I do want to see you,” he replied softly, palms raised upwards in defense. Both eyes, one gold, one russet, watched her with apprehension, as though she were a bomb that might explode at any moment. She certainly felt like one.

“Then why don’t you?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

Lucien licked his lips. “It’s…complicated.”

Her stomach dropped. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“What?!” He panicked, taking a hasty step towards her. “No, just you. Only you, I swear.”

“Then explain. I’m not stupid, I can follow whatever is keeping you. I don’t want secrets between us I want—” She stopped herself before she could admit that what she wanted was to be in the same place for longer than a night.

“I need permission to visit with you,” he told her, dropping his hands with a sigh. Elain looked at him sharply.

“What do you mean…permission?” She demanded.

Lucien gestured for her to sit but Elain shook her head, her mind whirring. Why would Lucien need permission to see her? He’d been nothing but polite, he’d give her distance…they always had a chaperone, she realized. Save for once, right before he left to find Vassa, Lucien and Elain always had an audience unless she snuck out of the house. It was why she’d begun writing him letters in the first place. That was the only way she could speak to him without someone else in the room.

Lucien was watching her shrewdly, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Do they think you’ll…” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. He laughed dryly.

“I certainly hope not.”

“Then why? No one cared about how much time Cassian spent with Nesta.”

“Well…I imagine it’s different when the High Lord trusts the mate in question.”

That didn’t make sense. She bit her bottom lip. “They trust you…you’re their Emissary…”

Lucien laughed again, plopping onto his cream-colored couch. “Emissary I may be, but trust me they do not.”

Elain frowned. “Because you’ll betray them?”

“Because I don’t want to be here,” he replied honestly, his every word condemnation. She could put it together now. Lucien was in Velaris for her, he’d left Spring for her, and he’d continue to be the Emissary on behalf of the Night Court for as long as Elain lived in Velaris.

“You don’t have to stay for me,” she assured him, crossing the wood floor to sit beside him. She took his hand and squeezed, looking up into his tanned, beautiful face. Lucien smiled at her sadly.

“If I quit, I’d never see you again.”

“Of course you would, we’re—”

“Do you imagine Rhysand or Feyre would just hand you over with my resignation? If that were the case, I would have taken you from here when we first met.”

“So I’m what? Bait?” She asked breathlessly. He didn’t respond but the steely look in his russet eye was answer enough. “Something to keep you in line?”

He shrugged but Elain was angry again. “I thought you were avoiding me,” she told him, pulling her hand from his. “I’ve been mad at you and all this time you were trying?”

“Elain—”

She spun on her heel and tore out of his apartment, well aware he was right behind her. She didn’t care. She wasn’t an object or a tool to be weaponized against her own mate, for cauldrons sake. She was tired of being treated like a pretty piece of furniture that couldn’t think for herself. She wanted the Nesta treatment, she decided, storming into the river house.

“You had no right!” She shrieked, storming into Rhys’ study. She’d meant to find Feyre first, but Rhys was there, sitting at his desk staring down at parchment. On the couch beside the fireplace, Azriel looked up, hazel eyes wide at the outburst.

“Hey Elain…Lucien…everything okay?” Cassian asked from a chair in the corner.

“No!” She continued, her chest heaving. If she didn’t say everything now, she’d chicken out; Elain hated confrontation. Rhys stood, his violet eyes glittering with emotion. A moment later Feyre skidded into the room, practically slamming into Lucien’s back.

“What’s wrong, Elain?” Feyre asked breathlessly, shoving past Lucien to touch Elain’s shoulder. “Did something happen, did—”

“Why does Lucien need permission to visit me?” She demanded, stepping out of Feyre’s grasp only to slam into the sold chest of her mate. “No one had a problem with Cassian breathing down Nesta’s neck, but Lucien needs advance written notice?”

“Whoa, that’s not how it went,” Cassian complained. “If anything, she was breathing down my neck—”

“Cassian,” Azriel murmured quietly, silencing his friend.

“You and Nesta are different,” Feyre tried but Elain didn’t want to hear it.

“So? I think Nesta could have healed perfectly fine without being…fucked—” she whispered the word, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Up against a wall.”

The mood of the room became immediately tense. Cassian stood; arm crossed over his broad chest.

“Elain,” Rhys warned. Lucien put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing his support. She didn’t have to do this. She could walk away, could tell them to shove it. She had to. Lucien didn’t understand, was good at sticking up for himself but she wasn’t. They needed to know.

“It’s shameful,” she told Rhys, looking him dead in the face.

“We just wanted to keep you safe,” Rhys told her, his voice very much implying she was on dangerous ground.

“From what? I thought Lucien was Feyre’s friend,” she challenged. “I thought he was your Emissary. How can you trust him with your politics but not his own mate? Why is it okay for Azriel to see me but not Lucien?”

Rhys’ took two steps forward, darkness rippling off his back. She’d overstepped, she’d openly challenged Rhys and, perhaps most damning, she’d done the one thing he’d ever asked her not to; discuss the almost events of Solstice. Azriel’s face paled for a moment as Cassian, Feyre, and Lucien all turned to look at him. “I’m not your political pawn,” she whispered, stepping closer to Lucien.

“You are my subject and you will sit down and stop talking.”

She felt the metallic tang of magic slam into her face, attempting to make her obey. Elain knew what Rhys didn’t, what she’d kept a careful secret until that moment. He couldn’t compel her; his magic had no effect. He wasn’t her subject. She never had been.

“Sit down,” he said again, his every word dripping in authority. She straightened her spine even as her hands trembled. “You can’t make me,” she replied, pressed as close to Lucien as she could get.

“Rhys,” Lucien warned, his own voice rich with that same magic. She shivered at the sound. Rhys glanced towards Feyre, exchanging some conversation silently between them.

“I want to leave,” she told them, her voice wobbling nervously.

“Elain…can we talk? Just me and you?” Feyre murmured, holding out her hand. “Please?”

Elain looked over her shoulder but Lucien was still staring at Azriel with a clenched jaw. “Fine.”

Feyre grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the room. In the hall, Nesta had her back pressed to the wall. She followed behind Elain silently, spine straight, eyes cold. The three practically ran down marble floors, up the stairs, all the way to Feyre’s room. She locked the door behind her, as if that would keep anyone out.

“What happened with Azriel?” Nesta asked the second the door was shut.

“There are things you don’t understand,” Feyre interrupted, ignoring Nesta’s question. “You can’t leave.”

“Are you saying that as my sister, or High Lady?” Elain whispered.

“Where will you go, Elain?” Feyre prodded. “Spring—”

Her laughter was practically a shriek. “Did you know the last time Lucien came home from Spring he had bruises all over his ribs? Couldn’t look me in the eyes when I asked what happened? What do you think happened?” Elain demanded. Feyre flinched.

“How can you send him back there and stand here and tell me I don’t understand the situation?” Elain pressed. “He’s your friend.”

“I know, Elain, I’m sorry,” Feyre interrupted breathlessly. “I care about Lucien, too but he’s cunning and—”

“And what is Rhys?” Nesta interrupted with an imperious smile.

“You suddenly like Lucien?” Feyre demanded, hands on her hips. Nesta scoffed.

“No, but I like watching Elain tell Rhys to fuck himself. And…and it meant a lot what you said about…”

Elain nodded.

“Don’t leave,” Feyre pressed, ignoring Nesta completely. “Move in with Lucien if you want just…just don’t go.”

“I want to do more than garden,” Elain whispered. “We’d still see each other…he’d still help you, if you asked because you’re his friend…and I’m your sister.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes glassy. Elain knew she was still talking to Rhys, trying to strike some sort of balance between the fight they’d just had and not making things worse. “Rhys is asking if Lucien will go to Day Court on his behalf…they have a lot of libraries…Vassa still is spelled and we haven’t been able to figure it out. Maybe you could go with him? If you want, I mean?”

Elain nodded her head. “I’d like to see the other Courts.”

“But you’ll come back?” Feyre asked, her voice small and Elain knew she needed to apologize to her sister. Feyre was trying…Feyre had been good for all those years, selfless even when she didn’t have to be. Guilt gnawed at Elain. She’d let her temper get the better of her. She crossed the room and hugged Feyre tightly.

“Of course I will. I’m sorry…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Wrong again,” Nesta said dryly. “You should yell more often. Tell Helion if he tries anything—”

“Helion won’t try anything,” Feyre assured Nesta. “Trust me.”

Nesta frowned. “He’ll take one look at her face and fall in love just like everyone else. How can you say—” “Rhys is going to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t have to do that,” Elain cajoled. “I can handleone High Lord calling me pretty.”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose. “It…it’s not appropriate, you have a mate—”

“I can handle it,” Elain said firmly, determined to do something for herself. “Promise.”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Rhys and Lucien in the archway. They looked tense; neither looked at the other. Elain wondered what had been said. Rhys looked from his mate to Elain before raising his palms.

“We…we worked it out,” Rhys assured her. “Don’t kill me.”

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she told him, not sorry at all. She suspected he knew.

“Day Court?” Lucien asked, brows raised, his face very much. She smiled.

“Day Court.”

#elucien fanfic #elucien fic #elucien prompt #all roads lead to day court #helion is gonna hit on elain #thanksgiving will be awkward that year #feyres gonna be like i TRIED to warn you #while elain stares at a plate of yams

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sjmsstuff · 3 years

Text

Light and Dark

Hi there, so this is a little Gwynriel thing that I wrote. Initially it was going to be a oneshot but now I don’t know. It’s going to be ages until we see these characters again so I sort of wrote this to keep myself company. Anyway it’s semi canon compliant. Bit of fluff? Bit of angst?

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,

Warnings: spoilers for acosf, references to sexual abuse and child abuse (not loads in this piece but if I continue there may be more)

Gwyn didn’t really know what made her travel up to the House that night. Maybe it was the storm outside. Maybe it was the cool air that swept through the library as she worked. Maybe it was the knowledge that Nesta and her mate were staying in Windhaven after a day of training.

More likely however it was the fact that the Shadowsinger was alone in the house.

Gwyn didn’t really know why it mattered. Why that thought had occupied her head all day. Causing Merril to shout at her thrice before sending her away, crowing about lazy nymphs and distracted girls.

Gwyn was going upstairs to keep him company. That was it.

On this cold night, everyone should have someone to talk to. Azriel always seemed occupied and maybe he just needed someone to sit and talk to.

Just sit.

Just talk.

To be completely honest with herself she wasn’t sure if she could handle anything else. But something about Azriel made her want to try.

Something that probably had to do with the softness of his shadows, that juxtaposed the sharpness of his cheekbones so wonderfully.

Something about the way his voice soothed her while simultaneously causing her heart to ricochet in her chest.

Something about the way his shadows whispered to him, made her want to whisper things too. The way they wrapped around his shoulders made her want to wrap around-

Woah. Maybe she had been reading too many of Emerie’s novels.

All they were doing was talking.

It was that promise that spurred her up the final few steps and into the hall of the House.

Should she call out?

Would that be weird?

Should she turn around and pray to the mother that she hadn’t been heard and maybe-

A door opened a floor above and a second later footsteps echoed through the hall, and he appeared, bringing a soothing darkness with him.

“Gwyn” Azriel said, not surprised by her appearance in the stormy night. Perhaps those shadows told him.

They curled around his shoulders now, reaching towards her, like they wanted to play. She wanted to play with them. She wanted to play with him.

Woah- definitely too many novels

Azriel looked at her and she realised she hadn’t responded.

“Azriel. Hi. I- eh” Mother why was she so awkward? “I was just wondering if you wanted company”

He did look surprised at that. Gwyn felt a sort of pride, she’d bet not many things surprised him anymore.

He hadn’t responded though.

Oh no why hadn’t he responded?

He probably didn’t want her there. She’d just walked in. Why did she just do that?

“I can go if-“

“No!” He started. “No please” he motioned to the door he had just come through, inviting her upstairs.

A thrill ran through her as she started to climb. Glancing back down at him, she saw him look away quickly and realised- he had been staring at her ass.

Heat flooded through her, but she quickly stifled it as they reached the top of the stairs and he overtook her to open the door to a sitting room.

Part of Gwyn was disappointed it wasn’t his bedroom. But that would be insane, yes they’d known each other for months but it would be insane for him to just-

Gwyn sat in one of the chairs in front of the fire and Az sank into the other.

He was always so graceful, it was almost unfair.

The silence crowded in and Gwyn beat it back with a stick.

“How’s the whole spying thing going?”

Az snorted, “the spying thing?”

“Ya, the whole I’m a shadowsinger, spymaster thing”

“You mean my job?”

“Is that not what I said?”

Azriel look amused, “I wouldn’t be a very good spymaster if I told you, now would I?”

Gwyn paused, “That actually makes sense.”

Undeterred she forged onwards “So if you can’t tell me about your job, tell me about yourself”

Az flexed his hands and crossed his arms, then immediately uncrossed them, “What do you want to know?”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“My favourite colour?”

“Yes, Azriel, what is your favourite colour?”

A shiver seemed to run through him when she said his name, but that might have been her imagination.

“Blue”

“Really?”

“Is that not a sufficient answer for you, Ms. Berdara?”

“Its perfectly boring, is what it is”

Azriel let out a low chuckle, “So what’s yours?”

“Every colour, of course, if I chose a favourite the others would get jealous”

“You sound like Feyre,” he laughed “She decided she couldn’t chose one either, but Rhys insisted she pick violet for his eyes”

Gwyn smiled, “They seem really happy together”

Az sobered up at that, “They saved each other, in every single way. And now they have Nyx it’s ... I will forever be grateful to Feyre for bringing my brother back. Back home to us, but also back to life.”

Even the storm seemed to pause at the agony in his voice.

“Was Under The Mountain as awful as they say?”

“Worse.” He clenched his hands again, “My shadows could penetrate some of Amarantha’s wards. I saw and felt some of the horrors. Not enough to form a plan, not enough to help, but enough to know Rhys wouldn’t have recovered if not for Feyre. And I’m sure Feyre wouldn’t have healed if she was left in the Spring court.”

Gwyn’s heart broke at the pain in his words, “The others, they don’t know you saw, do they?”

“No, and I can never tell them, Rhys would be upset I disobeyed him, by sending the shadows. Cass and Mor would be hurt I didn’t tell them at the time. but it’s also not my place to say anything. Rhys and Feyre have only told us some of the horrors they endured, and I won’t let them know I’m aware of others. Not until they’re willing to speak about it themselves.”

Once again he seemed surprised, this time at himself for revealing that much.

But Gwyn realised he was completely solemn, he wouldn’t say a word until they were ready. Yet he trusted her enough to know she wouldn’t say a word either.

She reached out her hand and gently touched his knee. He looked up and met her gaze. Cauldron, he was beautiful.

How many secrets weighed down those broad shoulders? How many horrible thoughts swirled behind those hazel eyes?

“It’s getting late,” his voice seemed lower than usual, rougher. “You should probably get some sleep, we’re training again tomorrow”

Gwyn removed her hand and rose. Az also got to his feet, walking her out.

As she descended the stairs back to the library, a shadow wrapped around her arm before quickly darting away.

She glanced back at him but he had turned and disappeared down the hall.

Tagging: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury

Chapter 2

Please let me know if you want to see more like maybe make this a fic? Also comment or send an ask if you want to be added or removed from my writing tag list or just this fic tag list

#acosf spoilers #gwynriel #sjm fanfic #sjmsstuff writes #gwynriel fanfiction

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highfaelucien · 3 years

Note

Hmmm maybe lucien and elain playing with nyx and elain marveling at how good lucien is with children...

@bow-dawn also requested "give us elain watching lucien playing with nyx and that warms her heart enough to have a talk about their mating bond 😭" Everybody wants Lucien with babies because they know he's baby catnip. And I have no idea how children work but an attempt is gonna be made!!!!

send me ship prompts! platonic or otherwise!

Elain's arms were starting to get sore. Even with her being fae now. Arms that had stabbed the King of Hybern were somehow unequal to holding one small Ilyrian baby.

He was a very important baby, to be sure. Since he was her nephew. And the son of the two most powerful people in Prythian's history. Or so everyone kept saying.

Maybe he knew that. He was certainly doing everything in his power to make sure the whole of the Night Court, maybe the whole of Prythian, was aware of him right now, with the racket he was making.

They weren't sure which powers of his parents' the babe would inherit yet, he was too young. But he had an incredibly potent pair of lungs, of that she was sure of.

She'd been holding him for what felt like decades, bouncing him in her arms and trying to soothe him. He had managed to wear through her considerable patience, and she was now bordering on the edge of desperation.

This was her first time babysitting by herself. Feyre and Rhys had trusted her with their son, and she couldn't get him to stop crying! She was a terrible aunt. What kind of mother would she be? Unable to comfort her flesh and blood.

That thought made her stomach plummet. Had she lived out that other life, the one she sometimes saw reflected mockingly back at her in mirrors and pools, and married Greysen...She'd likely already be a mother. Would probably have at least one baby of her own.

She pushed that thought away before she joined Nyx in his crying.

"Cauldron boil me, Feyre!" A voice called from the stairs leading up to the roof where she'd taken Nyx hoping some fresh air might calm him. "What in the name of the Mother are you doing to that hellspawn child to make him scream that way?"

The voice was familiar, but unexpected. But she barely had a moment to process that before the door banged open and she found herself staring at Lucien.

"Oh," they said simultaneously.

Then Lucien, his cheeks changing colour to match his hair, said, looking abashed, "Lady Elain, please forgive me. I, I expected to find Feyre up here."

"I can tell," Elain said, giving him a little smile, "By the way you were shouting her name."

"Yes, well," Lucien muttered, looking rather flustered.

She found she quite liked that look on him. She always tended to see him as the polished, silver-tongued courtier, always composed and prepared to handle anything.

"I, I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be up here. I would not have spoken to you that way if I'd known you weren't Feyre," he said, with a bow.

"Why not?" Elain said, cocking her head to one side, "I'm not some delicate flower that can't handle hearing curse words, you know," she told him, almost defiantly, "Amren has taught me many new ones. Cassian showed me how to do it in Illyrian. Rhys can be quite inventive when he's grumpy. And when all that fails, I can always just fall back on the word fuck."

He blinked at her, then grinned broadly, "Shockingly, I don't make a habit of cursing at people that I don't know all that well. Feyre and I are good friends, so she has earned my fragrant cursing at her."

"She's also High Lady of the Night Court," Elain said, raising her eyebrows, "With more power than anyone in Prythian's history has held in a long time."

Lucien waved an idle hand, "I knew her before she became all Made and Rhysandish," he told her, "Once you've seen someone puke faerie wine into a fountain of the mother at the Solstice it's hard to see them as too grand to curse at anymore."

Elain giggled at that, then winced, as that apparently seemed to upset Nyx even more.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at them, "Cursing aside," he said, leaning idly against the wall, "My question about that one still stands - what by the Cauldron have you done to him?"

"Lots of things!" Elain said, her voice snapping a little bit, "I've fed him, and I've changed him, and burped him. I've tried to put him down for a nap. I've tried to rock him, and bounce him, as swoosh him side to side. I've talked to him, and I've sung to him, and I've begged him and he still. Won't. Stop. Crying!"

Lucien smiled slightly, which made her want to smack him, because this was absolutely not funny, and she felt tears of frustration starting in her eyes.

"Feyre and Rhys trusted me to look after him on my own and I can't get him to stop crying! I don't know what I'm doing wrong," she confessed hopelessly.

"May I hold him for a moment?" Lucien asked.

Elain hesitated a moment. But Feyre had let him hold her son before. She had seen tears in his eyes when he'd done so, and it had bridged some connection between them that had never fully healed since the war. She didn't think her sister would protest, as long as she was still here.

And she was so tired. Her arms were so sore, and Nyx was becoming a very heavy and dense weight in her arms. So she nodded gratefully, eagerly pushing the little bundle into Lucien's arms.

Lucien held him with a surprising ease, as if he'd done this thousands of times before. A broad, genuine smile spread across his face as he peered down at him, bouncing him slightly in his arms.

Nyx peered up at him. Elain expected this to trigger an increase in the volume of his howling, but, incredibly, he quieted almost at once, seemingly entranced by Lucien's face, his glinting metal eye.

"There we are," Lucien said, smiling, but raised a finger as Nyx started grumbling again, "Now, now, we won't be having any of that," he told him calmly, "Ah, you have wings, don't you? Let's see then..."

Lucien carried him over to the table, unwrapped his blankets. Before Elain could protest about the cold, he rewrapped him, but gently extended his wings first, and curled them around his little body, securing them in place around him with his blankets.

"You know about babies with wings?" Elain asked, bemused.

Lucien nodded, "Certainly," he said, then seemed to consider, "Not Illyrians, and not Rhys-spawn," Elain giggled against her will, "But I'm hoping the principles are the same."

He scooped him up and bounced him. Nyx actually giggled at him, the little monster.

"How did you do that!?" she demanded, peering down at the baby, who was now lifting his chubby little hands and grabbing, as if trying to catch the glinting eye above him.

Lucien smirked, "I have a known gift," he said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Elain would have whacked him for that, if he hadn't been holding her baby nephew.

"You, you've been around a lot of babies?" she asked.

Nothing in his history, though admittedly she knew little of it, had implied that babysitting had been a big part of it.

"Oh yes," he said, very seriously, "Fae with troublesome younglings came to me from all over Prythian, every court, lesser and high alike so that I could use my gifts and soothe them."

Elain put her hands on her hips and growled at him, "Don't you bullshit me Lucien," she said, as sternly as she could, poking a finger into his chest.

He snickered, still grinning at her, shifting Nyx slightly in his arms as he started to fuss again, "I have a very big family," he said, shrugging.

"I thought you were the youngest of your brothers," she said, frowning.

Lucien nodded, "True," he confirmed, "But I have lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, and friends," he added, with a flicker of some emotion she couldn't quite read. He took a breath and added, "Regardless, they all felt that, as the Lord's seventh son, I didn't have anything better to do with my time than babysit all of their offspring. I've had a reasonable amount of practice."

"Well you saved me today," Elain said, collapsing into the seat that Rhys always liked to sit and brood in, overlooking the Sidra, "I don't know what I did wrong," she muttered, bracing her chin in her hands and sighing dejectedly.

Lucien cautiously approached, Nyx still cradled in his arms, and sat in the seat next to her, also glancing out over the city. "If it helps," he said, "You did everything right. Sometimes babes are just tricksy little bastards," he said with a shrug,

She frowned, trying to determine if he was patronising her.

"They like to be dramatic and seek for attention," Lucien told her calmly, "Especially when they have Rhysand, Night Discomfort, Death Irritate, the most dramatic bastard to ever spread drama, as their father" he added in a lofty voice that acutally sounded uncannily like Rhys.

Elain stuffed her fist in her mouth to stop herself snorting as she laughed.

"He is very dramatic," she agreed, tickling Nyx's tummy.

Lucien smiled down fondly at the babe, and for all his comments about him being dramatic, there was a tenderness in his face she had never seen before from him.

It made him look younger. His face was still scarred and strange, with that mechanical eye, but there was a gentleness in him she hadn't seen from most fae in her time in Prythian, it made her feel safe and calm.

Nyx started fussing a little again, and Lucien hushed him, and fluttered his fingers in the air above him. Little lights appeared above him, circling like a mobile and flashing different colours.

Elain let out a little gasp of delight watching him, which was echoed by Nyx.

Lucien glanced up at her, a wry smile on his lips as he said, "My magic isn't particularly powerful or impressive, but it's very good for entertaining infants."

"I think it's beautiful," Elain said, quiet, but sincere.

Lucien smiled.

Then he turned his head back to Nyx, tickling him with his free hand while the lights continued to circle, swooping down and booping the child on the nose, causing him to giggle.

Elain felt a sudden pulse of warmth and joy blossom in her chest like a swelling rose, and she let out a little, "Oh!"

Lucien glanced up at her, startled, "Are you alright?"

She put a hand to her chest, without breaking eye contact with him, "I, I fel you," she said quietly.

"I apologise," he said, looking truly sorrowful, "I usually keep better control of myself, but being around you makes that more difficult."

The little river of his joy faded away as he closed off the bond on his end.

"No!" she cried, with a desperation she couldn't quite explain, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm, "No," she repeated, more quietly, "Please don't, don't close down on me."

He raised his eyes, and held her gaze, unwavering, unfaltering. She felt that river again, the joy at holding the babe still there, but also excitement, anxiety, and almost unbearable anticipation. Though she had the sense he was trying to keep her from the worst of it.

"It's good," she whispered, "It feels good. I've, I've had dreams of you," she told him, "So much pain. So much guilt, and sadness, and hopeless need."

He ducked his head, turning away from her, seeming ashamed, "I'm sorry that you-"

"No," she said, quiet but firm, cupping his face in her hand, tracing his scar with her thumb, "No. You don't apologise to me for the things that others have done to you. You never do that," she said, with a fierceness that surprised even her.

"I shouldn't have let that touch you," he said quietly, "I, I don't want anyone to feel that, least of all you."

Elain held his gaze and, for the first time, she tentatively tapped at that string inside her, on her bottom rib, that one that extended beyond her in a way even her newfound Sight did not.

Through it, carefully, she pushed all of the depression, all of the pain, and all of the grief, and hopelessness, and even the darkness that had almost claimed her, caused her to step into it and never return.

He started, and his eyes filled with a thin veil of tears. But not because of the emotions she shared, but the fact that they were twin to his own. The fact that, as he looked into her eyes, he knew that she had felt what he had felt.

"We are the light for so many," she said quietly, "The sun that they grow towards, the thing they reach for in their own darkness, when they need hope, and someone who will always find a smile for them."

Lucien nodded, and picked up that thread she'd left dangling for him, causing one of his orbs to circle close to Nyx. The baby tried to catch it, giggling, and Elain saw that, but also the shadow it cast on his soft skin.

"But where there is light, there is shadow," he murmured, eyes not leaving hers, "That is the quiet burden we bear to be their light."

Elain nodded, and together they looked back down at Nyx, and let the warmth and joy at him flow, tentatively, between their bond.

***

thank you!! I hope you enjoyed!!!

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #Nyx archeron #acofs #acotar series #acotar fic #elucien fic #my fic #mine #answer post tag #fic prompt fill #taryn fills prompts #IM DOING IT OKAY IM DOING IT #IM MAKING MY WAY #THERE'S JUST A LOT #AND I CANT STFU #long post

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Text

Master Post of things I wanted to post while reading ACOSF- mostly humour/ crack lol (Spoilers... Duh...)

First, general opinion: I liked the book generally. I knew it would be very Feysand friendly and I was prepared for that. Not my first choice but I get it. I really had to take a few hours off with the whole hiking scene. That really fucked with me to see Cassian so pissed and militant despite already knowing where Nesta was coming from and how betrayed she felt (ESPECIALLY once I learned that he had guessed they were mates already). I know that self loathing was a major theme but I do think it was laid on a little too thick for too long. I also think there was so much Nessian interaction when things were angsty and then when they were happy I was just WAITING for that full chapter of soft happiness and I feel like a lot of that got lost to Nesta’s relationship with her sister. Above everything though I gotta say that it BREAKS MY HEART that Cassian never actUlly says I love you to Nesta at any point in the book. I know it’s meant to be that he’s always loved her and it’s his actions that show it etc etc but it’s still kind of a blow for him to never say it... never even outright think it in his own perspective (go back and look the closest he gets is saying he’s acting like a lovesick puppy. We only get to see Cassian loving Nesta from her perspective as she realizes it which I get and is beautiful but maybe ONE DECLERATION THANKS). Anyway, I am hoping that opportunity arises in future books. Although.... I don’t think I will read the future books. Maybe I will, but honestly this was just SO MUCH. Like... I think there was too much in the book. Each of these quests could have been its own book and I was happy to keep going because I’m obsessed with Nesta, but I just don’t think I’d be interested enough in the other characters to read something so convoluted again (like I’m sorry the blood rite started with basically 100 pages left that is WILD). It was also so clear that so much of this book was setup for future books and that’s fine but it was kinda messy just being honest. ANYWAY onto more specific thoughts/ jokes:

Chapter 2:

Cassian: I just hope that Nesta knows we are doing this for her benefit, because we care.

Feyre: I don’t care this shit ends now. I’m burning your apartment to the ground.

Also Cassian: *Let’s Nesta fall down a flight of stairs*; *calls Nesta pathetic every day*; *tells Nesta everyone hates her*; *walks around slamming doors all pissy as if he’s the one being held captive*

Chapter 11:

Nesta:Rhysand is an asshole

Me:

Cassian: well everyone fucking hates you

Me:

The way that Cassian thinks about Russet Potato is just straight up not healthy. Like I get looking up to a sibling or whatever but I’m starting to think that Rhys is Cassian’s one true love. Cassian being THAT blind to every one of Rhysand’s flaws is a character flaw of his own. Even Feyre isn’t THAT blind.

Chapter 11 Pt 2:

Nesta from day one: I’m not training in that camp. I hate that camp. I’m not training there. Fuck that camp

Cassian: this is because you hate me, isn’t it?

Me:

Like I’m sorry did we really need Feyre to show up to help him crack that code???

Chapter 10 (and beyond):

My OTP? Nesta and the House of Wind.

It’s a solid enemies to lovers story (chapter 6 she says even the house hates her then later it’s her only friend and ally. Great love story.)

It reveals its heart to her before Cassian does

It knows what she needs

Gave her water on the steps instead of watching her fall down them

Pushes Nesta gently by keeping the fire so Cassian can see that she is afraid and haunted instead of empty and broken. Encourages her to go to dinner with people by barring the library but doesn’t FORCE her to go. The house does not judge her.

Spoils her and is silly with her while she has her sleepover.

Takes an active interest in something important to her and shares one of her hobbies

Side note- this book even has me pissed at the IC about how they treated a damn house!! Like how dare they say no one likes going there! How dare they be so rude to my new #1 favorite book character??? The house just wants to give you cake and books and run you a bath. Perfect partner IMO.

Chapter 17:

Me when Cassian does the bare fucking minimum and tells Rhys to calm the fuck down and stop threatening to kill Nesta:

Chapter 21:

When Rhys said that Nesta always has a choice here I said, out loud, “that’s fucking rich rice ball”. My dog looked up. That’s all.

Chapter 21 (and beyond) pt 2:

Prythian: mating bonds are very rare

Archeron sisters: survey says that was a lie

Prythian: fae fertility is very difficult. Conceiving can take decades

Archeron sisters: survey says that too was a lie

Prythian: No High Fae can survive the birth of an Illyrian winged baby

Archeron sisters: once again, the survey is not on your side here

Chapter 42:

Rhys: this is a bad idea

Cassian: that should be written on the Night Court’s crest

Me, wine glass raised to mouth, scoff more bitter than necessary: yeah it Fucken should”

Chapter 42 pt 2:

Yknow I was genuinely shocked by one thing in ACOSF. I was shocked that Rhysand and I agree on something.

He absolutely fucking shouldn’t be High King.

The mere SUGGESTION that Nesta’s power and fight and trauma and depression and war and entire FUCKING STORY has all been so that Rice cake and French fry can be a high king and queen literally set my blood BOILING at exactly the point in the book that I was starting to VIBE

Side note- Can we please just Fucken stop with the stars blinking in and out of existence in Rhys’ eyes. Like calm down. Rice pilaf has purple night eyes we get it. Just like... simmer please.

Chapter 46:

I GET that it shouldn’t have come out like that and that Nesta’s reasons weren’t right, but get ABSOLUTELY FUCKED RHYSAND for thinking that it is your right to HIDE THE DANGERS OF LABOUR FROM A WOMAN WHO DOES NOT KNOW YOUR SPECIES!!! This had me truly wildin and I think it was a disservice to Feyre’s character too that she didnt lose it more.

Chapter 55 (and earlier):

Cassian: *bows to death as Nesta emerges from the black depths on a throne to rule her undead armies*

Cassian: *watches bleeding as Nesta plucks the harp and wields her Made sword of death to murder Lanthys and claim the ability to stop time itself*

Nesta: So, now I go after the crown

Cassian:

Chapter 57 (and earlier):

Kelpie: You shall be my bride before you are my meal

Helion: *rides enchanted horse up to shoot his second shot with Nesta*

Lanthys: Tries to seduce Nesta into being his Queen even as he attempts to kill her

Eris: I’ll give you anything in exchange for Nesta as my bride

Cassian watching every male being in the universe trying to get with his mate:

Chapter 60:

Emerie: we’re not entering the blood rite, are we?

Cassian: Only if you want to

Brialynn:

Chapter 80:

Nesta: *Saves Cassian’s life in the war*

Rhys: I still hate you and will never forgive you for what you did in not hunting as a child.

Nesta: saves Feyre and Nyx

Rhys: I bow before no one and nothing but my crown and now I shall fall to my knees before you oh mighty saviour queen of all

Side note- can someone please compile a list of all the things that Nesta Archeron had done/retrieved/gone through for the Nigh Court because that shit is astronomical at this point and I really need everyone to start sipping their Respect Nesta Archeron Juice RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!

Anyway I’m emotionally wrecked but shoutout to anyone who made it this far into my ramblings!

#nessian #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames spoilers #a court of silver flames #nesta archeron #cassian #anti rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #nesta and cassian #a court of mist and fury #nestaxcassian #sarah j maas #a court of wings and ruin #acotar

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kingandfireheart · 3 years

Text

Starfall

A/N: this one had been sitting in drafts for a while, but it a part of my whole "Sarah robbed of us two months of HAPPY Nessian" thing, so enjoy, I guess!

'Summary: This one is basically all the scenes that could have happened instead of in addition to the Amren apology on Starfall. It's fluffy. It's a lot of the Inner Circle. There's a Mor apology. There's a sweet Az moment. And of course happy established Nessian. Clearly all of these things wouldn't happen in one night. But its fanfiction, so you know. Mostly canon-compliant.

Words: 2274

A few minutes after Amren left her side, Nesta felt two people approach. She didn’t need to turn her head to know exactly who it was.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it” Elain spoke, her voice full of awe.

“It’s beautiful” Nesta rasped, as her sisters came to either side of her.

“Did I ever tell you two about my first Starfall?” Feyre asked.

Nesta shook her head. “It was before I had accepted the bond. Rhys and Mor didn’t tell me what to expect at all, so when some of this,” she gestured to her silver streaked cheek, “landed on my face, I thought I was going to lose an eye.”

“Rhys wouldn’t stop laughing at me and I nearly chucked him over the balcony. But... this view and his laughter made me realize that I wanted to paint again. That after everything that happened under the mountain and with Tamlin, I was ready to accept this life... to live.”

“I think that’s why Starfall is so special, right?” Elain said, “it reminds of the beauty of this life, even if it wasn’t what we originally planned”

“The Priestesses said there are spirits passing through or something, but I like your explanation much better” Nesta said, chuckling softly.

“I know things have been tough between the three of us, and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. And I’m glad that you’re both doing better and that we're together." Feyre said, laying a hand over her stomach. "All I want for him is to be surrounded by family, and to give him the childhood we never had.”

“He will be very loved,” Elain said, happily.

“By both of his aunts” Nesta added. “We can teach him to read, and dance, and garden.”

“And how to deal with his annoying uncles” Feyre added, looking over Nesta’s shoulder, at where Cassian and Mor were dancing.

Nesta laughed. The idea of Cassian playing with a child was... exciting, adorable... and something she would have to think about later.

“Enjoy yourself” Feyre said, pulling Nesta, and Elain, into a hug.

"I missed this” Elain said quietly. "Come find me if you need anything."

Then both sisters smiled, disappeared into the crowd.

------

Nesta turned back to the view before her, taking it in, appreciating her sisters and Amren, and how far she'd come.

“Five hundred years, and I’ll never get used to the sight” Mor said from behind her, startling her back to reality. "I thought you could use some refreshments" she said.

Nesta laughed, turning to her, and accepting the cup of water he extended to her.

"Thank you." she said,

"I suppose I could have dressed up for the occasion" she shrugged.

“I would have loved to dress you up again, but it’s not like we won’t have more occasions for that” Mor said. "Plus, it doesn't feel right if someone isn't in leathers." She added.

Nesta smiled softly, unsure what to say.

“I wanted to apologize” Mor said suddenly. “For what I said, how I treated you. I thought I was being protective and you deserved better than that. I’m really sorry”.

Nesta shook her head in disbelief, “I judged you before getting to know you, and I’m sorry for that.” She said sincerely.

“I heard you cut the ribbon and completed the blood rite qualifier. That's impressive." She said. "I would have loved to see the look on Devlon's face."

"He didn't seem pleased" Nesta said. Mor was one of the best warriors out there, Nesta assumed this was a part of her training too, "I've seen you in battle...Have you never....?"

"Only as a training exercise, but I never beat it on my own. You need a unit to win something like that. I hear you have a pretty impressive one."

"They're wonderful. I think you'd like them."

"Maybe we can get to know each other better during training?” Mor offered. Nesta saw it for what it was. A peace offering. They would put the past beside them for Cassian and Feyre.

“I’d like that, Mor.” Nesta said, and she would.

Mor squeezed her shoulder, and said, “The dress I got for you should be in your rooms, if you want to wear it later” she said, and then sauntered off. "

---

“Here,” Azriel said, extending the plate to her. “The party will last until sunrise, so you should eat ”

Nesta nodded in thanks as she accepted the plate. Was Azriel... fussing?

"You seem to be enjoying yourself." Azriel said, elbowing her softly, as he moved toward the railing."I prefer this version of you. Real. No masks or disguises."

Nesta added dryly, “And covered in sweat" Azriel laughed at that. "I don't know how Feyre wears the crown, I hated it."

Azriel laughed, mischief in his eyes, "They do say heavy is the head that wears the crown."

"I prefer you without masks too, Az". Nesta said before she could stop herself.

Azriel smiled softly, and gestured to her food. She picked up a few berries and cheese.

When she was finished, he asked, "Would you care to dance?" extending his hand to her, his siphon gleaming in the light.

Nesta took his hand, and let him lead her to the crowd, where the others were dancing.

Even as exhausted as she was from training and the stairs, she enjoyed every moment of dancing with Azriel, as she had done on Solstice. Azriel led her, easily.

"Is it always like this? the party? she asked after a few moments.

"Mostly. We didn't use to have guests from other courts, but since the world knows about Velaris, I think Feyre and Rhys saw it as an opportunity to share."

"I like it. I think you were right about holidays" Nesta said, into Azriel's shoulder.

"I'm glad." Azriel said.

He was right. Feyre was right. This was life, this was living. The music. The view. The friendships. Her family.

She didn't say anything else, comfortable to enjoy the music and Azriel's company as they danced.

---

At some point, Helion had stepped in for Azriel.

"Lady Nesta." Helion greeted her.

"High Lord" Nesta responded.

"Interesting attire for a party" he said.

"Training ran late" Nesta said, shrugging slightly.

"Is that what Cassian is calling it nowadays?" Helion joked. Nesta blushed. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The General Commander and Lady Death." he mused.

Nesta said nothing in response, just returned his gaze, as if to say your point?

"I didn't quite believe the stories about your dancing, Lady" Helion started.

"What kinds of stories?" Nesta asked.

"I heard you brought Eris to his knees at Solstice." Helion said.

"I may have danced with him." She responded smugly.

"Is that a part of your training? Bringing commanders and high lord to their knees by way of dance? When you aren't too busy wielding Made objects?"

Before she could respond, she felt claws, scrape against her shields. While Rhys's were usually like midnight, Feyre's were different. She lowered her shields enough to hear her sister.

If you would like someone to save you from Helion, say the word. He's rather persistent tonight.

I'll let you know.

Nesta snapped closed her shields before responding, proudly. "I'm actually training with a small group of female warriors."

"Ah yes, your sister mentioned to Vivianne that you're resurrecting the Valkyries" he said as he spun her.

"We're combining Illyrian techniques with Valkyrie ones." she said.

"Impressive" he said. "The Valkyries were formidable. Once you're organized, perhaps you'd enjoy seeing the Day court's female forces. Lady Vivianne has been helpful since the war." He said, looking where Kallias and Vivianne were dancing.

"I'll think about it." She said. Maybe she wasn't ready to face the real world yet, but maybe... in a few months, or years even, she could be ready, and Gwyn and Emerie could be too.

"And if you ever tire of the Cassian"

FEYRE, she practically yelled in her head, throwing open her shields. She knew exactly where this was going.

"or want someone else to join you..."

FEYRE. HELP.

"and your m-"

"I think I'd like to dance with my sister-in-law" Rhysand said smoothly. Before she knew it, Rhysand was sweeping Nesta into the dance, barely a beat missed.

"Think about both my offers" Helion said from behind her.

---

Rhysand laughed, and in this light, with the silver on his face, Nesta could see what her sister described. A light that had been less present the past few months.

"See. Persistent" Rhysand said. "He made a similar offer to Feyre, Azriel, and Mor within an hour of arriving."

"Why doesn't that shock me?" Nesta said. "I'm surprised you cut in."

"Feyre promises. I deliver." he said. "I'm surprised you came tonight" Rhysand responded.

"I live here. I just climbed the stairs" she said dryly, before deciding to make an effort. "Thank you, for rescuing me" she said quietly. Rhysand seemed a bit shocked to hear her.

"Helion is unrelenting." He explained. "I didn't think Cassian would appreciate another male asking me for you hand... And I thought I owed you...After Eris...And threatening you."

"You did, but thank you nonetheless." Rhysand nodded.

They continued dancing for the rest of the song. Nesta didn’t speak, and neither did Rhys, but his eyes had lit up with amusement, as the song came to an end.

"Mor, you owe me 50 gold marks." Rhys said, as he spun Nesta away.

---

Before she understood his meaning, she landed in Cassian’s arms, but not in a position for dancing. Cassian’s arms were around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder, as her back pressed to his chest.

"Hi." he said.

“Enjoying the party?” Nesta asked coyly, as she turned to face him.

“I am now.” Cassian said, placing a kiss to her temple. When he pulled away, his lips were covered in the starfall dust. He guided her away from the dance floor, where Mor had taken her place in dancing with Rhysand.

Nesta smiled and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him, only pulling away when her legs screamed in pain. She supposed completing the Blood Rite qualifier, climbing down and up 10,000 steps, and dancing would have that effect on her calves.

Cassian wasted no time in picking her up fully, cradling her to his chest. Nesta gasped in surprise, and then looked sheepishly out to the rest of the party.

“They’ve seen us do much worse, Nes” She laughed and Cassian joined her, brushing his lips to hers once more, as if he wanted to taste that smile. She may always be a little embarrassed by what had happened when she scried. But things were different then- they were together now, and the way Cassian was looking at her now... it was, well it was better than any wine she'd consumed in the past year.

“I suppose they have,” she said, hiding her face in his chest. She let herself enjoy the moment, savor how it felt to be held by him.

Cassian laughed, "It should be winding down now, but there is a better view, if you would like to get out of here."

Nesta nodded.

Cassian flew up to the higher balcony that overlooked the Verdana. "Rhys and Feyre usually hide up here, but they are too busy playing hosts tonight" he said, before setting her down on a blanket, only to pull her into his lap moments later.

She reached up to brush some of his hair out of his face. "You look nice," she said, running her other hand over his cheek, where the starfall dust collected.

"And you're beautiful" he replied, smiling. It was not too long ago that Cassian had struggled to compliment Feyre, and now he hardly hesitated before saying such things. Nesta felt her cheeks redden.

"You’ve had an eventful night” Cassian said. “I thought I'd barely get a chance to dance with you”

Nesta snorted. “I prefer this” she said, leaning into him further.

“I’m in awe of you” Cassian whispered, as his fingers pulled her hair from its messy braid. “You’ve come so far. Conquered so much”

“Thank you.” Nesta said. “For doing it all with me.” Nesta turned in his lap to face him fully, her hair now falling over her shoulders.

“Always” Cassian said, before bringing his lips to her first kiss. “I’m yours. And you’re mine. No matter how many pretty males you dance with.”

“You could have stepped in at any point in time.” she said.

"The others placed bets on how long it would take for me to step in... and I wanted you to enjoy tonight, for this to be a good memory for you.”

“It is. I'm happy” she said softly.

“You’re happy?” He whispered, a half question. She kissed him in response.

"I'm happy too." Cassian said.

"And you're prettier than them." she whispered. Running her thumbs over the silver that coated his lips, and likely coated hers as well.

"Really?" Cassian asked, almost incredulously.

"It was always you, Cass" she said, as it wasn't even a question, because it wasn't. Since they met they were two forces on a collision course, nothing she could have done would have stopped it.

"And I always knew it would be you, Nes" he said, before kissing her again.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there, but after the stars had stopped falling, and the sun began to rise, Cassian carried them back to her rooms.

Nesta fell asleep absolutely exhausted by the day she had. Her body ached, but her heart, her soul, was happy. It was one of the best days since she’s become fae, likely before that even.

#nessian #nezriel brotp #nessian fluff #acotar series #kp writes #archeron sisters #rhysand #morrigan #helion spell cleaver #mtp

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devaneiosinfinitos · 3 years

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My thoughts on ACOSF

!!!!MAJOR SPOILERS!!!!

I was really looking forward to this book and Nesta and Cassian’s story and I really wanted to love it, but it fell really short. If I were to define ACOSF, I'd say: Wasted potential.

After finishing it and rereading some parts, my conclusion is: there are some pretty cool scenes, but that's not reflected in the rest of the book. I was disappointed and frustrated with several things. I was angry with others and found that many points in the plot were not really developed.

Here are some things that really bothered me (and this will be long):

ENDING RUSHED

I thought the ending was rushed. There were many things happening at the same time and none of them got a proper conclusion. For example, the Blood Rite and the birth. At one point we’re reading about the Blood Rite and how Nesta was fighting the other Illyrians so Emerie and Gwyn could win. Then, Queen Briallyn and Cass arrive, Nesta destroys her and gets the crown and then Azriel and Mor arrive and take them to Feyre. And that’s it. All that build-up for what? For a few paragraphs of Nesta meeting Gwyn and Emerie after the birth and briefly discussing it. And then of Nesta reminiscing of when she told Cass and Az the details of it and they pointed out what needed to be corrected. SERIOUSLY? The birth scene totally took the focus out of Nesta’s at Ramiel and the end of the Blood Rite and the AMAZING victory of Gwyn and Emerie and how well they did on the rite. There were chapters and chapters building up to the conclusion of the Blood Rite and what could come of it and then it was just over. So anticlimactic. Why spend so much time on it and then not even having one character acknowledging how incredible they were? That not only they survived it but Emerie and Gwyn won it and Nesta got so far and pulled an Enalius at the end? So few Illyrians have ever gotten that far and it has always felt like such a great accomplishment that Cass, Az and Rhys completed it, and then here we have women kicking the ass out of the challenge which has been unheard of and we don’t even get Cassian saying how proud he was? There was a lot missing at the end of that narrative. I wanted Cass, Az, and Rhys making a big deal out of their accomplishment. I wanted the Illyrians reactions about their victory and performance and what that could mean moving forward. I wanted more of how Emerie and Gwyn felt winning it and what it meant for them and Nesta to have accomplished that together. What a waste.

Not to mention, how rushed the entire thing with Briallyn and the crown was. One moment Nesta is destroying her and there lies the crown. And then, there’s Nesta using all three artefacts to stop time and help Feyre. They didn’t even discuss the fact that Briallyn was gone and that now they had the 3 artefacts. I mean, some people in that room didn’t even get to see the crown (Did they even know they managed to get it in the Blood rite?), let alone discuss the significance of it. One of the main plots of the book was the search for the trove, and then when they have all 3 artefacts, that’s just completely brushed over. Again, SERIOUSLY? All these plots and none with a development/conclusion to match the build up.

NESTA’S POWERS

I don’t even know where to start with this one. Every time I remember that Nesta gave up her powers I get pissed all over again.

Nesta’s powers have been hyped up for a long time. A LONG TIME. Now, we finally have her book where we delve into her journey and where her powers are supposed to be fully explored and WE NEVER GET THAT. Thank you for nothing, Sarah. Her powers are not even fully explored and then she gives them up. We never really get to fully understand her powers and get to see her really using them. THERE WAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL. I wanted to see her wreak havoc and fully embrace her powers and become one of the most powerful and deadly characters in Prythian. I wanted to see more of her being in control of her abilities and being her badass self taking a hoard of bad guys out. I wanted to understand the extension of her powers. But nope, just as she’s starting to learn about them, she loses them. SO ANTI-CLIMATIC (it doesn’t matter that apparently there’s a bit left, that’s not the point). When she was engulfed in silver fire in her room and Rhys came running? That’s what I wanted to read about. Nesta never really used her silver flames and we never got to really understand what they meant. Ok, they were cold rather than hot. WHAT ELSE? Why is the book even called A Court of Silver Flames? Isn’t that supposed to indicate that said silver flames will be significant? The most significant thing about them other than the bedroom scene are the silver flames that appear in her eyes, and that was not even fully developed either. Is it only when she’s about to lose control? Or angry? Or emotional? When the silver flames appear in her eyes it’s always highlighted that “nothing Fae looks through them” (this was pointed out more than once) and Cass even says at one point that that’s the being the Bone Carver whispered about and exalted and feared. We had the Bone Carver, a creature of thousands of years, calling Nesta a queen and saying she was as "ancient as the sea" and we have Lucien saying that maybe some things should not be awoken and "mother spare you all" when he sees Nesta training and I feel like all that foreshadowing never really came to fruition. LOOK AT ALL THIS BUILD UP.

Nesta’s been hyped up as this powerful Death Queen or as this being with great powers and the culmination of her journey in this book resulted in her giving it all up to save Feyre, Rhys and the baby. Rhys, that up until that point hadn’t really done anything that made him worthy of her calling him brother. Since Sarah came up with this death in childbirth plot (I could’ve gone without this one, seriously), yay for Nesta saving them because it’s not like I wanted them to die (I hope they learnt the lesson with that stupid bargain though). But this entire plot could’ve been addressed differently. AND BETTER. In the end, it undermined Nesta's powers narrative. Why build this plot up so much and include so many things that could be considered foreshadowing if you’re not going to fully develop it in the character’s main book?

IC’S BULLSHIT

Ever since ACOFAS, I was waiting for someone (preferably Nesta) to call the IC on their bullshit and their self-righteous hypocrisy. But it never happened. We had that God awful intervention scene and Mor saying bad things and Amren being gratuitously cruel and Rhys insulting Nesta and Feyre taking her freedom away and none of that is ever addressed again. Ok, I get they were trying to help her with their intervention, but they could have approached that very differently and much better. I felt really bad reading that, and they all got away easily with their behaviour towards her. Sometimes it felt like they were kicking a dog who was already down. Especially Amren. She called Nesta a waste of life and Nesta bloody knelt to apologise to her, holy shit, I can’t get over that. And Amren never apologised. I feel like there was a lot of apologising coming from Nesta, but not enough coming from others. The IC were disrespectful towards her many times (and not only in this book), and that’s it. All swept under the rug.

Later on in the book, Rhys says that Nesta always has a choice at the Night Court. REALLY, RHYS? Are you not tired of contradicting yourself? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like she did. They even try to use Elain as a way to manipulate Nesta to do what they want. Not to mention that it feels as they are really pressuring Nesta to get better soon and fast (with the exception of Cass, who says she can take however long she wants), but the IC should look at themselves. Mor and Az are still dealing with their traumas after hundreds of years. Cass himself says that it took him years to get over what happened to his mom and what he did (and he still deals with the fact that he often feels inferior for being a bastard). And they want Nesta to be a happy healthy version of herself so soon? Please. I think a scene where their behaviour is addressed would’ve felt earned. I’m pissed that we didn’t get that. And that Nesta didn’t get that. And that because the IC are never called out on their often toxic behaviour (it happens towards Lucien as well), they don’t learn.

Also, Rhys and the rest of the IC hiding from Feyre what it meant that the baby had wings was a really infuriating move. So so wrong. That type of thing should not be hidden from the person carrying the baby. It’s her life and her body. To be honest, I didn’t like how the pregnancy plot was written at all. I was already expecting that Feyre would get pregnant, but I hoped it would be later in the series for a myriad of reasons. The way it was done here didn’t really work for me, and I think many things didn’t make any sense such as how the birth would (or wouldn’t) work. I mean, Cassian had his guts hanging out of his stomach and lived, but a C-section is not possible? Come on.

RELATIONSHIPS

I think that by the end of the book there were some key things missing in some of the relationships. For example, the relationship between the sisters. It all appears well in the last scene, but I missed a scene where all three of them ACTUALLY talked and discussed things - their relationship and their parents and their past. You know, a decent conversation where they could explain things and ask for forgiveness or also say thank you where it was due.

I also would’ve really liked if Cassian had said “I love you” to Nesta. I don’t doubt his love for her and I know he has loved her for a long time and he has shown that love with attitudes on several occasions, but I think with Nesta, who had never really said “I love you” to anyone (she said it to Feyre for the 1st time in the birth scene), it would’ve meant something to her to hear those words, especially after thinking so little of herself for so long and not feeling worthy of affection and thinking everyone hated her. I think it would’ve felt nice to close that part of her journey with him saying it as well. Also, I kind of missed soft/tender moments between Nessian thoroughout the book. Yeah, they have an angsty relationship and Nesta was in a healing journey and the smut was great, but I think there could’ve been more sweet moments in the middle, you know? Because they only truly recognise the bond at the end, so the fluffiness is mostly focused in the last pages, and I wanted a bit more of that here and there. Not a lot that would change the dynamics of the relationship, but just a bit more that would balance the smut and angst a bit and make me sigh. Sometimes I thought there were too much smut and angst and not enough relationship growth through conversation and softness.

HIGH KING

I really dislike the High King idea and I have a feeling that’s exactly what Sarah might do. Not long ago, the IC was shitting on Vallahan for wanting to conquer other territories and then there’s Amren saying Rhys should become High King and rule over the entirety of Prythian. Where did that even come from? That entire conversation and everything Amren said was just mindboggling. Not to mention that according to what she said, Rhys would become High King using the weapons that Nesta created. Same weapons that Amren said nobody should use (but it’s ok if it’s Rhys, right? *Eye roll*) and that no one should tell Nesta she could create. Not to mention that the entire idea of all the courts submitting to one ruler/court (in this case, to Rhys) sounds very imperialistic. They should all be aiming to coexist peacefully and harmonically and find ways to work towards that, not using this High King idea as a solution.

Plus, Rhys cannot even unite all of his own court (There’s rebellion building with the Illyrians, there’s the Court of Nightmares and all the problems there…), and Amren wants him to rule over Prythian? Also, something about the Court of Nightmares that I often wonder about. Is Mor the only decent person to be born there? Because I have a hard time believing that there is not another single decent soul in that place. Maybe someone that dreams of going to Velaris and escaping the Court of Nightmares but that just finds themselves trapped there because it’s not like Rhys and the IC give anybody a chance to get away. Do they even look for people that might be suffering there without deserving to? I mean, Mor came from there. Don’t they think there might be others? Even with the agreement they have with Keir in ACOWAR, it’s not like they are open to the idea. And it’s completely fine to want to protect Velaris from the evil and cruelty that exists in the Court of Nightmares, but again, that shouldn’t mean they shouldn’t even contemplate the chance that there might be people there worth of being in Velaris. That doesn’t earn Rhys any points towards the High King thing.

Moreover, that stupid bargain Rhys and Feyre made also doesn’t get him any points. Since learning the baby had wings, Rhys knew the chances of Feyre dying were very high. If she died, he’d die as well. You’d think a responsible ruler would make plans in case that really happened. You know, like talking to the IC and making plans about their next moves and discussing how they should proceed and just analysing the options after his and Feyre’s powers go to who knows who (If it went to Keir… Shouldn’t they prepare for that?). I mean, imagine the chaos that would ensue should Rhys and Feyre die, and it’s never even addressed that Rhys is considering these things. He didn’t even tell Amren, his second in command. Honestly, what a mess. I’m glad Rhys was categorically against it and that it doesn’t seem like he wants that, but it sounds just like Sarah to come up with a plot that the High King title would just fall on Rhys’s lap or be the only way out of a situation and that by becoming High King he’d be saving Prythian of something worse. I’m rolling my eyes just thinking about it.

So… These are just some of the things that bothered me. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t nice things in the book. Like I said in the beginning, there are some cool scenes and specific things that I really liked (such as Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie’s friendship, for example. They are just wonderful. And Nesta and the House of Wind. And Nesta and Azriel (I wanted more of this relationship). And Cassian’s support. And the Valkyries inspiration), but the book in itself? More potential than any other thing. It was a let down.

#ACOSF #A Court of Silver Flames #ACOSF Spoilers #Spoilers ACOSF #Nesta #Nesta Archeron #Cassian #Nessian

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snelbz · 4 years

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What Happens In Vegas... {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

I decided on divorce while I was in the shower, practically slamming the door in my new husband’s face. I went over what I would say to him over and over and when I’d washed my hair for the third time, I knew I was stalling. This wasn’t something I could just pretend hadn’t happened, this was real.

Except maybe I could.

I had plans and life goals. I was only twenty-one. Surely he couldn’t have been surprised by my desire to make this disaster of a marriage go away. You don’t just meet a random person and get married in Vegas. You bring someone to Las Vegas and then you get drunk and get married. But drunkenly marrying an absolute total stranger, who’s name I still didn’t know? Not high on my list of personal accomplishments. I definitely wouldn’t be adding it to my resume when all of this was over.

My parents could never find out, they would kill me. I had plans and priorities. I was going to finish my degree and join my father’s architectural firm. Hell, I had a five- and ten-year-plan, and neither of them included drunkenly marrying a handsome stranger in Vegas.

No, we’d get this thing taken care of and I’d be back in my home town, and back to the life changing internship I was supposed to start in two weeks.

That was it, we’d get divorced and then I’d take this secret to my grave. I was sure my husband was thinking the same thing outside the bathroom door.

I dragged a hand down my face as I stood under the spray of the water and looked at the rock on my left hand. This thing must have cost a fortune. Like a legitimate down payment in a house fortune.

I froze. What if he was into something illegal? His clothes certainly didn’t seem like that of someone who had this much disposable income.

Marrying a stranger was bad enough, but marrying a criminal?

I suddenly felt the need to puke again, but reigned it in. There was nothing left in me to hurl up, anyways.

Attempting to shake the criminal thought away, I tried to take other possible theories into consideration. Maybe he was one of those rich kids that still takes his mommy and daddy’s money, even though he tries to pass off as normal so that he doesn’t have to go to go to all the boring events, full of other rich, snooty people. Or, maybe he had won the lottery and was using his winnings on his trip to Vegas, where he buys obnoxiously large rings for strangers that he marries.

Somehow the criminal theory seemed the most realistic.

A knock on the door had me jumping. “Feyre?”

Well, at least he knew my name.

I hollered back, “Just a second,” and quickly turned off the shower and got out. Wrapping a towel around myself, I looked for something to dress in, but my options were limited. I could put on my white dress, but it was now covered in puke, or the white t-shirt I assumed belonged to the man outside my door, still wet, hanging over a towel rack. I could only assume I’d puked on it, too. Or I could wear the towel.

Towel, it was, it seemed.

I cracked open the door. “Hi.” He was right there leaning on the door frame. I hadn’t noticed when we were sitting down, but he was quite a bit taller than me, a full head, if not more. And he was still shirtless, in those jeans, with those tattoos on display and I was too hungover to process how someone could look like that after a night of drinking.

“Hey.” He wouldn’t look at me, didn’t even seem to notice I was wearing only a towel, thankfully. “Listen, I’m going to have this taken care of.”

I blinked. “Taken care of?”

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes and he was staring at the ground. A scuff on his boots was clearly more interesting than I was. “My lawyers will handle it.”

“You have lawyers?” Criminals had lawyers. Shit. I had to get myself divorced from this guy now. “Yeah, I have lawyers. You don’t need to worry about anything. They’ll send you the paperwork or whatever. However this works.” He finally looked up at me, an emotion I didn’t recognize in his violet eyes, and grabbed his leather jacket from where it was laying on the bed. He shrugged it on, apparently deciding the t-shirt was a lost cause. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. If I were him, I’d divorce me and run as far away as I could. He probably thought I was going to puke on him again.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, echoing my thoughts. Hearing him say it, though, hurt for some reason.

I breathed, “Oh.”

He looked up at me then. “What? You disagree?”

“No,” I said, far too quickly.

“Thought not. Wish we would have felt that way last night. Could have saved us a lot of trouble, yeah?” He headed for the door and said, “Bye, Feyre.”

“Wait!” I called and hurried to the door.

When he turned, I really wished I hadn’t seen the hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Here,” I said, already tugging the ring off my finger. “This is yours.”

He looked down at my fingers, gripping the ring, holding it up to him. He blinked, then his eyes narrowed. “Keep it.”

I nearly gaped. “It must’ve cost a fortune. I can’t keep this.”

He shrugged. “I don’t want it back.”

“Please,” I said, following him as he took a step toward the door. “It’s yours and I have no need for it. Take it. Please.”

The second please came out much more desperate than the first.

“Look,” he said, rubbing his temples as he turned around. “Sell it, pawn it, I don’t care. Keep it.”

“No,” I said, without any hesitation. “It wouldn’t feel right. You have to take it.”

“No, I don’t,” he said, voice low.

He didn’t give me a chance to reply, storming outside and slamming the door behind him. The painting on the wall lifted and fell as the force reverberated through the walls. He never even told me his name.

I was left staring at the door, mouth hanging open, the ring still in my outstretched hand.

I had no doubt that whether or not he did have lawyers, he would make sure we were divorced now. I slowly walked over to the undisturbed double bed, the scratchy comforter still in place, and sat down. I sighed and said a prayer to the Cauldron that that really would be the end of this fiasco.

As I sat there, still wearing nothing but my towel, I noticed that my right butt cheek, strangely enough, was aching, throbbing for some reason. I shook my head, not surprised in the least that I’d somehow ended up causing myself bodily harm last night. I stood and walked back to the bathroom after tucking the ring away safely in my carryon bag. I made a mental note to call Joey, who was absent from our hotel room, but she’d come to Vegas with a goal in mind of her own.

It didn’t include getting married, but did include some other activities that go hand in hand with it.

The thought gave me pause and I froze, halfway to the open doorway.

My ass was currently the only thing aching, so I could only assume that me and my soon-to-be ex-husband hadn’t consummated our marriage. I tried to ignore the disappointment I felt at that fact.

I may not have wanted to be married to him, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy doing other things with him. Things that didn’t end up in a legal and binding contract with the state of Nevada and the Man upstairs.

I knew this was a blessing in disguise. Thank god he didn’t want to keep this mess going, I don’t date bad boys. And that man was definitely a bad boy. I was more into the clean cut, college-educated, I have a 401K type of guy.

Had I ever dated that type of guy? No.

Had I even gone on a second date in the past three years? Also no, but that wasn’t the point.

I could already tell that man was nothing but trouble, and getting as far from him as possible was my best bet.

I sighed, walking into the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs over the bathroom mirror, wanting to inspect the damage to my ass. I turned and stood on my tiptoes, looking backwards at myself in the mirror. I wondered if it would end up bringing a scrape or a bruise. I hadn’t felt anything while I was in the shower, nor did I remember falling last night — not that I would have anyways. I cringed, hoping my husband hadn’t-.

Black ink and hot pink skin. All the air left my body in a rush. There was a word on my left butt cheek, a name:

Rhysand

I spun and dry-heaved into the sink.

———————

“How, after nearly twenty years of friendship, is your music taste still this horrible?”

Joey was scrolling through my saved songs on Spotify, sharing one of my ear buds. She had, indeed, succeeded in completing her goal last night. She finally stumbled into our hotel room, still orgasm drunk a mere two hours before our flight was scheduled to take off. Thanks to my overwhelming anxiety, I had everything packed and ready to go, sitting by the door when she walked in looking like exactly like she’d spent her night in someone’s bed. Rather than waking up on a clammy bathroom floor.

I thought this was supposed to be my birthday trip. How did I end up with the shit end of the stick.

“If you wanted to listen to your own music, you should have remembered to charge your phone before you slept with our waiter from last night.” It came across with much less sarcasm as was intended, and anyone else would have thought I was being an absolute bitch, but as she watched me swallow the rest of the shitty, airplane coffee, she knew I’d had a rough night.

She went on, ignoring me. “Have I taught you nothing?”

I snorted. “Not to drink tequila.”

With a roll of her eyes, she opened her mouth to reply, but the dinging of the PA above their heads rang out and she paused. The seatbelt sign lit up and we both re-fastened the belts across our laps. She said, “I’m trying to help you and your horrific music taste. Here.” She scrolled through my saved artists and found a band I hadn’t even noticed was on the list. It had a singular song saved.

A screaming electric guitar and aggressive yelling filled my head and I yanked the earbud out. So much for my headache beginning to fade. I was convinced my brain was leaking out of my ear, she’d turned the volume up so loud.

“How do you even listen to that?” I asked, rubbing temples as I began to feel my heartbeat behind my eyeball.

“It’s Illyrian Leathers,” she said, as if that was explanation enough.

“And they're lovely,” I said, taking my phone and pausing the song before unplugging the headphones. We’d begun our descent and would off the plane in a matter of minutes. “But, you know, maybe another time, after you didn’t pour twenty tequila shots down my throat.”

She scoffed, “It was only four, you took the rest of your own accord.” I could vaguely remember Joey putting back to back shots to my lips and tipping them back before I could stop her. Twice.

That vague memory was on the short list of things I could remember.

All I knew now was that I couldn’t wait to get home, climb into my bed, and forget about everything that happened in Vegas. For the first time in my life, I finally understood the popular phrase, What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

It would be easier to forget, though, if I hadn’t spent the entire flight trying to get comfortable in my seat with my throbbing asscheek.

I stared out the window, watching my hometown slowly fade into view as the plane descended in the sky. I made a vow then and there that I would never leave the comfort of Adriata again. I had proven to myself that nothing good happens when I leave the city limits.

“So what did you end up getting into last night?” Joey asked, gathering her dark hair and piling it on top of her head. “Aside from the toilet bowl.”

“That’s pretty much it.” The less said, the better. The less people that knew, the better. The sooner she was off this plane, the better.

“What a boring birthday weekend,” she scoffed.

We were quiet the rest of the short ride, my stomach mercifully survived the landing, though it did lurch once. After grabbing our bags from the overhead bin, we disembarked the plane, and I was very grateful that we had only brought carry ons.

In no time, I would be on my way home.

The thought had me almost smiling, but the nausea kept that smile at bay.

We exited the plane, past the smiling flight attendants, and exited into the tunnel that would lead us up into the terminal. Joey rambled on and on for the entirety of our walk, but I rarely made out a word she was saying. My head was back to throbbing, and I was counting down the distance that would lead us into the parking garage.

I could see the sign up ahead that pointed to baggage claim, and thankfully we wouldn’t have to wait for any bags, but what we did run into past that sign was much, much worse.

The second we stepped into view, flashes of light were blinding me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, lifting up on my toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the chaos ahead.

“Must be a celebrity on board or something,” she mused, glancing behind us, just like the people in front of us were. I followed suit, only to find the people behind us staring in front of us.

Then I heard it. My name. Being said by about twenty different people.

“Feyre, when’s the baby due?”

“Why didn’t Rhys fly with you to Adriata?”

“Is it true the band is breaking up?”

“What do you have to say about the allegations that you’re sleeping with the other members of the band?”

“Will you be having a second wedding?”

“When is Rhys coming to meet your parents?”

I was frozen, my heart had quit beating and I was pretty sure my stomach was in a puddle in my Vans.

An endless barrage of questions and flashes and my name and his over and over and over.

Joey gripped my hand and pulled my hood up my hair. “Keep your head down and don’t stop walking.”

She began forcing herself through the crowd, shoving one man and his camera out of his way as we hurried through the busy airport and jumped into a waiting taxi, cutting a line of nearly a dozen people. I couldn’t be bothered to care as the paparazzi descended on the cab.

“Drive!” Joey shouted at the man.

He blinked and said, “Where?”

“Anywhere!”

He stepped on the gas, just as I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. My mind was whirling. It made sense, but at the same time, I couldn’t comprehend it.

Rhysand.

The name tattooed on my ass.

My apparent husband.

He was...famous?

Not a criminal. Not some fake rich kid. Not a lottery-winner.

Famous.

Famous enough that paparazzi were greeting his new wife as she got off the plane, anyway.

“Feyre.”

By her tone, I assumed it wasn’t the first time Joey had said my name. My hands dragged down my face as I hesitantly met her gaze.

I blinked.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, her voice raising.

I looked out the window behind her head. We were exiting the airport, and I didn’t even bother to announce that my car was still in the parking garage.

“I…” I began, but my words fell short. I didn’t know. Yes, I did. But I didn’t want to, wanted to pretend that I didn’t, because this could not be my current reality.

“You didn’t happen to get…married while we were in Vegas, did you?”

“I… Yeah. I, uh, think I did.”

She blinked. “Wow.”

And then it just all blurted out of me. “God, Joey. I screwed up so badly and I barely even remember any of it. I just woke up and he was there and then he was so pissed at me and I don’t even blame him. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was just going to pretend it never happened.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work now.”

“No.”

“Okay. No big deal. So you’re married.” Lauren nodded, her face freakily calm. No anger, no blame. Meanwhile, I felt terrible that I hadn’t confided in her. We shared everything.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I whispered. “I should have.”

“Yes, you should have,” she sighed. “But it’s okay. I know now. So,” she said, crossing her leg and looking at me. “Who did you marry?”

“Rhysand,” I said, and she blinked at me.

“It’s not Rhysand Lunasa, is it?”

I shrugged, I hadn’t even known his name until I found it branded on my asscheek. “Maybe? It sounds familiar.”

“Where exactly am I taking you ladies?” The cab driver asked, glancing at us in his rearview mirror.

Joey glanced at me and said, “Feyre?”

I turned around, seeing the cars still following us. “My parents,” I breathed. I really didn’t want to lead them right where I lived, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if they already know.

Joey nodded and said, “Good call, your dad has a gun.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head as she rattled the address she’d had memorized for years off the driver.

She sat back against the cracked leather seat and took my hand. I looked over at her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t say something. I didn’t mean to get married. I don’t even remember getting married. I don’t even know how this happened. This is such a…”

“Clusterfuck?” She provided.

I snorted and said, “Yeah, that’s a good word to describe the situation.”

She squeezed my hand and said, “You’re right. You really shouldn’t drink tequila.” I could only nod, my head pounding. After a second, she asked, “Do me a favor?”

“Mm?”

“Please don’t break up my favorite band.”

My eyes widened as I realized all at once who my darling husband was. “Oh, my god. He’s the guitarist from that band.”

“Illyrian Leathers,” she said, smirking as she looked over at me. “And yes, he is. Guess you’re going to have to listen to his music after all.”

I didn’t bother to tell her the obvious: no, I would not. This nightmare of a marriage would hopefully be over before I’d have time to search and find one of his records.

I smacked my forehead. He’d been plastered on Joey’s bedroom wall since we were sixteen, when Illyrian Leathers had formed. How could I have not recognized him? “It makes sense how he could afford the ring.”

“What ring?”

I hesitated before fishing the giant rock out of my pocket. When I held it up, Joey’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I know.”

“It’s massive!”

“I know,” I repeated, still amazed at the size of the diamond.

“I mean, it’s-.”

“I know,” I interrupted, exasperated. “You can’t freak out, alright? I’m already freaking out, and we both can’t freak out, because that won’t work.”

“Right,” she said, quietly, clearing her throat. “Sorry, I just…holy shit.” She took the ring into her fingers and examined it as if it was a long lost family treasure. “How much does something like this cost?”

I shrugged. “No idea. A fortune, I’m guessing. And I really don’t want to guess.”

She was looking at it and suddenly her eyes were on mine. “We should sell it and take a world wide cruise! Probably take a couple laps on the bad boy. I wonder how many carats it is?”

I took it back from her, tucking it safely away in my pocket again. “Five, and no, I need to get it back to him. There’s no way I can keep this thing.”

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the headrest. “I know, but you could have let me imagine it for a few minutes.”

I snorted but didn’t say much else.

“Congratulations,” she said as we got closer to my parents’ house. “You’re officially married to a rockstar.”

I dropped my head into my hands again. “What the hell am I going to do?”

She chuckled. “I have no idea, but I have to tell you, you exceeded my expectations.”

My eyes slid to her. “What do you mean?”

“When I told you I was taking you to Vegas for your birthday, I was hoping you’d let your hair down and let loose for once. Get a life and give mankind another chance. But this is a whole new level of crazy you’ve ascended to. Do you really have a tattoo?”

“Yes.”

“Of his name?”

I sighed and nodded.

“Where, might I inquire?”

I shut my eyes tight. “My left asscheek.”

Joey lost it, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face.

I’m glad one of us found my current situation funny.

Because as my childhood home came into view, already surrounded by paparazzi, I knew that my life as I knew it was over.

My father was going to kill me.

#snelbz whiv #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #what happens in vegas #feysand #feyre archeron #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas

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houseofhurricane · 3 years

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ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (21/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: With Tamlin and Vassa on the brink of death, is there anything Elain can do to save them? You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

Elain has been pacing the Spring Court estate since Tamlin left, hours before dawn. Her fingers trembled so badly that Mor, come from the Night Court, was forced to button her dress, then forced Elain to sit while Mor held a cup of tea to her lips. Elain could taste the whisky in the mixture but accepted the burn in her throat without complaint, nodded when Mor told her it would be all right. She’d watched Tamlin in battle dozens of times, she said, and the Mother always protected him, you’d think a male so big would be an easy target, but Tamlin always knew exactly where to be, when to wield his magic or his sword or the shape of the beast. Mor’s babbling, Elain knows, and yet her musical voice is so soothing that it’s all she can do to keep herself from begging Mor to stay with her. But she’s here to guard Vassa, to winnow her if Koschei attacks.

She’s let Vassa down enough, Elain knows. She cannot allow her friend to be captured by Koschei, not after seeing what this second captivity has wrought, the way Vassa is crumbling.

So when the queen and the Morrigan go to the lake to await the sun, Elain stays in the estate with Lucien, alert to every sound. Finally, he retreats to the library after placing a spell on her that will alert him to the presence of another living being, and Elain takes to the halls again, her heels clicking on the marble and the old stone. Normally she would linger at the windows, comfort herself with the view of the flowers and her endless hypotheses about how to improve the garden, but now the blooms are a smear of color in her vision, refusing to become distinct and consoling.

She spends an hour in the kitchen, letting Cook boss her through the baking of the day’s bread, but eventually he shoos her away for over-kneading the dough.

If she had not promised Tamlin otherwise, she would go to the Autumn Court, no matter that the only places she knows are likely already in the thick of battle. If only she could see him for a few more moments, she thinks, striding through the estate one more time.

Mid-stride, the pain hits her. The agony begins on the left side of her torso, the place where her waist curves, and then it consumes Elain whole, a blaze of agony.

The pain makes her silent, drives her hands into fists so tight that blood seeps from between her fingers, from where her nails have punctured her palm.

“Lucien,” she breathes through the pain, though perhaps it is a scream, “someone has cast a spell on me.”

Though she can see no magic around her, detect nothing with her own powers. The attack from Koschei has begun, she realizes, and when she disappears out of the world, even though the pain remains, flaring and ebbing, she waits to hear his voice, feel the spark and crackle of his powers.

Instead she appears outside her room in Feyre and Rhys’s river house, and Rhys is muttering, “if you die like this, it’s going to look as if I killed you, and we both know this isn’t how I would kill you,” and then, despite the fire that clamps its jaws tighter on her, Elain runs until she reaches Tamlin, nearly falling out of Rhys’ arms. She knows exactly how far they’ve walked by the thick trail of blood, a shocking red against the gleaming floor.

“Get Madja,” she orders Rhys, reaching for Tamlin, a challenge in her eyes. She won’t ask what happened. There is no chance that Rhys would have left a losing battle with Tamlin instead of Cassian or Azriel. Which means that Tamlin had some plan he didn’t divulge to her. But she will be angry with him later.

Now, she only tells Rhys that she can bear Tamlin’s weight and braces herself for him, his head coming to rest on her shoulder, the blood of his injury warm on her hip. She presses her hand over the gash, walking him step by agonizing step to her bedroom, murmuring, you’re all right and hold on and please, Tamlin, please until none of those words have any meaning and her voice sounds like a shrill whine in her ears.

Finally, they reach the bedroom and she eases him as gently as she can onto her bed, pressing with all her might on his side, the magic in the wound sparking against her own. Koschei was behind this attack somehow, of this Elain is certain.

But as she presses on the wound, calling her magic up inside herself, willing it through her fingers in a golden glow, the pain in Elain’s side recedes.

She can still feel Tamlin’s blood, hot and throbbing against her palm, but Koschei’s magic is gone. All she can detect is Tamlin’s own magic, and Rhys’, where he tried his best to throw a patch on the damage.

There is still so much blood, though. Enough that a man would be dead. Elain has never much liked the sight or smell of blood, but she pushes through the bile that rises in her throat, presses her hands hard against Tamlin’s side, willing his blood to stay inside his body, for his own rapid healing to begin. Hoping it will be quick enough.

“You need to live,” she tells him, “because I want to scream at you for whatever made you decide to sacrifice yourself. And then I want to apologize for all the times I told you to do something, to lead your court. Because I didn’t realize it would hurt me so much to see you like this.”

She can still feel the warmth of the blood trying to escape his body, and Tamlin’s eyelids don’t so much as flutter. Despite his tan from so many hours spent outside, his skin is pale, going blue and gray, as if shadows have begun to claim him.

“I could’ve lived with the pain in my side,” she goes on, as if he had been listening to her, “but the pain in my heart at losing you is too much. I can follow you to the realm where the dead go, and if you die today you will find me in that world. But I want to know what it would be like to be with you in this world and unafraid. So you need to hold tight to whatever binds you here and live.”

She sets free a pulse of magic through him, not sure if it will do any good, but there is no answering gush of blood, and she hears a steadier breath leave Tamlin’s lungs. The seconds drag on and Elain holds her hands to the wound, alert to Koschei’s magic.

When the hand presses to the back of her neck, cool and dry, Elain screams.

Then she registers Madja’s scent, the calming herbs that seemed to have seeped into the healer’s skin.

With a practiced gesture, Madja slips her hands around Elain’s, then replaces them, pressing on the wound. Her magic, a white glow, surrounds Tamlin's side, spreads itself across his body.

“It is only his flesh that is harmed,” Madja says, and her voice is equal parts calming and annoyed. “I had thought from the state the High Lord was in, that there was a magical catastrophe of some kind.”

“Koschei’s magic was in the wound. It felt spiky and strange, like lightning in the air but more… evil, somehow.”

“There is nothing like that in this wound. Not even a trace of that kind of magic. I sense yours, and his, and the High Lord’s awful attempt at healing. It is as if that magic has not existed in this world, Lady.”

“You can call me Elain, Madja,” she responds, which is what she always tells the healer despite no evidence that Madja will listen, but behind her words, Elain’s mind is whirling. That she could remove Koschei’s magic from this world. There are a thousand things that she could do with that power, beginning with freeing Vassa from her curse.

She’s dimly aware of Madja’s magic as she wields it on Tamlin, knitting his flesh together, which Elain feels now in her own body, an easing inside her, the banishment of pain. She finds herself clutching at Tamlin’s hand, feeling the pulse at his wrist protesting her tight grip.

Yet inside, her mind works through the implications of this new facet of her power. This magic of Koschei’s was weaker than what she’d previously encountered, and untethered to Tamlin. It reminds her most of Beron’s magic when he interrupted the meeting of the other High Lords, and of course Koschei would have had to offer something to cement a continued alliance with the Autumn Court. Helion and Lucien could help her finesse her powers, will spend happy hours bickering over the best way to navigate the curse on Vassa.

This time, when she squeezes Tamlin’s hand, it’s because she is eager for all that awaits her, the unfolding of her plan. And this time, his fingers reach out and squeeze hers, and Elain can’t contain the little shout of joy that rises in her throat.

“Will he be all right?” she asks Madja.

“He will be weak for a few days while his body heals,” the healer says, applying a fragrant bandage to the wound, “but then it will be as if he were never harmed.”

Later, Elain will hear about the victory at the Autumn Court, how Eris claimed his throne and how Helion and the Lady of Autumn absconded to the Day Court, and joy will rise inside her, mixed with relief. But now, as Madja tightens the bandages and checks her handiwork, as color returns to Tamlin’s face, premature as it may be, this is when Elain rejoices.

Exhaustion robs Vassa of most of her capacity for celebration. When Elain and Tamlin are returned to the Spring Court after the battle by Rhys, who recounts everything that has happened to Lucien and Vassa and the Morrigan, who has remained faithful to her duties as a guard, the most Vassa can manage is a smile that reveals her teeth. She wants to lean in to Lucien, pillow her head with his shoulder, but even the idea of the pain of that gesture will involve robs the desire from her, sends her to the opposite corner of the couch, tucked into herself so that there is less of her to touch.

She wants to rejoice for Eris but she worries about the curse on him, which Lucien says resembles the architecture of her own. Koschei feels only a whisper away, the grip of his magic so strong that it seems as if his own hands brush against her, polluting her. But she does not have the resolve to point this out to the grinning members of the Night Court, not after Morrigan’s bright chatter kept her distracted all day, and Vassa does not have the capacity to tear at the fragile hope in Rhys’s eyes. She should have the strength to hold Lucien close and allow him to mourn or celebrate the deaths of his other brothers however he wants, but it’s as if a thousand sleepless nights now press in on her, painful and muffling, so that she can only think of what she requires in each moment. And the idea of holding Lucien close, letting his touch cause her pain, is beyond what Vassa can currently bear.

Instead, after Rhys and the Morrigan leave, she hovers at the threshold of Tamlin’s room, where Elain has carefully arranged him on the bed. Lucien has quickly established himself on a deep armchair, his feet propped up on a low table as he works on a worn parchment which Vassa knows quite well. It contains a detailed analysis of her curse.

“You don’t know if the bond played a role,” Lucien is saying to Elain, who looks up from the fragrant compress she’s laid on Tamlin’s forehead just long enough to wrinkle her nose in annoyance.

“Even if it did, I don’t see how this isn’t worth a try.”

“You’re very sure of yourself for someone who learned this power moments ago.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“You know that Lucien is generally right,” Tamlin croaks, and the way Elain’s fingers reach for his jaw, trace the line the bones make under his skin, makes something clench, tender and jealous, inside Vassa.

She steps inside the room and they all turn towards her, her heavy human tread.

“Didn’t you always tell me that everyone underestimates Elain?” Vassa says, summoning levity to her voice, a wink towards Elain. She can tell from Lucien’s expression that he hears the strain anyway.

“I think that it is possible that I can break Koschei’s curse on you,” Elain says, in a voice that is sweet and adorably unsure, though Vassa is predisposed to give those words in any tone a rosy judgement.

“How?”

“Earlier, with my magic, I sent a spell of Koschei’s out of this world and into another. I think that I could do the same with your curse.”

“That was magic Koschei gave to my brother,” Lucien says. “My brothers were--”

“Your brothers were all powerful sons of two powerful High Fae, just like you.” Elain’s words shift between comfort and accusation, a tone Vassa recognizes. One she taught Elain herself.

“Try it now,” Vassa says, walking towards the bed and extending her hand toward Elain. She tilts her palm to the ceiling, the way a queen bestows her favor.

Then Elain steps off the bed and takes Vassa’s hand, and the pain cleaves her completely. It is as if her blood is boiling fire, as if there is an animal inside her, slashing at her with its teeth and claws, as if the world has turned to pandemonium and ragged screaming.

When Vassa finds herself on the floor, Elain and Lucien and Tamlin all staring at her, wide-eyed, she realizes that her throat is raw. That the screams were her own.

“I’m so sorry,” Elain says, and Vassa has to hold herself back from reaching for her.

Because as horrible as that pain was, when Elain reached out to her, there was an end to it. And the pain that Vassa endures every day feels endless, a life sentence.

She does not want to think about what it implies, that she wants Elain to grab her and hold on until the pain stops.

Instead, Vassa summons the depths of her will, assures her fae companions that she is all right, that she would like a few moments alone to collect herself, and manages to keep from collapsing until she reaches her own bed.

“You were going to rip her apart,” Lucien growls, as soon as Vassa is out of earshot, and for a moment Elain is actually afraid of him. She’s never heard him so full of wrath.

Still, she cannot help asking: “What did you see?”

“Did your magic keep you from hearing her screams?” There’s an edge in his voice that threatens tears, wrathful sobs. Still. She had felt the magic rise in her, the will. A possibility that seemed apart from Vassa’s torment. Even in spite of her friend’s suffering, the maelstrom of pain, Elain had almost kept her fingers wrapped in Vassa’s tight grip. Of course, she will not tell Lucien how her friend clung. Perhaps she will never reveal the extent of the queen’s desperation.

“You saw something else,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. She feels Tamlin’s hand on hers, warmer than it was even moments ago, and the luck of it, the fact that he is here in his court and healing, makes her plunge onward. Because she has been trying to pretend that there is plenty of time to break Vassa’s curse, but that is clearly now a lie. “Tell me what you saw, Lucien, and we can try to fix it. We can go to Helion, or--”

Lucien interrupts her with a wave of his hand, lightning between his fingers. So powerful and yet completely unlike Koschei’s magic.

“That curse is interwoven with an essential part of Vassa. When you try to send it into another world, you are ripping that out of her.”

“Can you determine what part it was?”

Lucien’s face has gone pale, his lips yellow-white.

“It was her life, Elain. Her human life.”

“But that’s easy,” she says, not understanding his misery. “We’ll just summon the High Lords. Feyre was a human once.”

“Feyre saved our world and half the High Lords would still kill her to get that bit of their power back, if they didn’t believe she herself would destroy them in the process,” Tamlin says, the words between a groan and a sigh. “Now that they know the cost of such a miracle, you’ll never summon all of them. Not for a human queen who can offer them nothing.”

Elain is preparing a blistering retort when he reaches for her, squeezes her hand.

“If it were my decision alone, Vassa would already be High Fae.”

She dips her head and kisses him, a gentle press of lips that belies the furious workings of her mind. Because the moment Tamlin said her sister’s name, Elain’s own words to Feyre echoed in her mind. Your magic is something new entirely , she’d told Feyre. And isn’t it true of herself, too? Of Nesta?

“As soon as we can get a guard on this house,” she tells Lucien, “we go to the Night Court and then Helion. I have an idea.”

“I won’t let you kill Vassa,” he says, already halfway out the door, feet pointed in the direction of her room.

Elain only nods, doesn’t say that Vassa will surely die without her intervention. It would not be a kindness.

Instead, she turns back to the bed and smooths Tamlin’s hair away from his face, checking for signs of fever and too relieved when she finds none. She forgets, over and over, the fact that they aren’t human, that their lives are no longer so fragile, even in the thick of battle.

“You’re going to have to tell me why you weren’t shielding your forces,” she says, letting frustration suffuse her words.

“Helion and I went to rescue Cybele.” His eyes on hers are steady, no apology in them. “The Summer Court was better equipped to hold a shield against the Autumn Court’s fire.”

“So you had to be a hero?”

“You were angry when I hid in the forest,” he says, a sharp tone in his voice. “This is what it means, to be High Lord. To gain the peace you seek.”

His skin stands out against his white sheets now, and, had she not known the sight of him so well, Elain would think Tamlin unharmed. Still, she can see the exhaustion in his features, the pale cast to his skin.

“I didn’t know it would hurt so much,” she says, her voice breaking as soon as she meets his gaze. “I thought that you were going to die of that wound. That magic.”

“Now you know how it felt for me when Beron took you.” He reaches for her, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have fallen down her cheeks.

“Is it just the mating bond?”

“I--I sometimes think about what it would be, if you left this house. If you left me. The emptiness. And still I think I could… I think you’ve shown me how I could bear it, being alone. Anyway I probably deserve it.”

She lays herself carefully against him, avoiding his injured side, nestling close against his warmth.

“You are much better than I used to think,” she says.

“Better than I was. It isn’t much.” She hates that he won’t take the compliment. Accepting his flaws and failures is one thing, but this sorrow, in the face of his survival, still worries her.

“You were ready to sacrifice yourself for the Lady of Autumn. So that Helion could get away safe, and Rhys would be all right.”

“Who told you all that?” A confirmation in his eyes, the green gone bright as new leaves.

“Vassa was right when she said everyone underestimates me,” she says, taking his hand and sliding his fingers under the bodice of her gown. She does not want to talk about strategy or battle now. What she wants is far more than she can express in words. Not the desire for a man to protect her. More than the fervent kisses they exchange in other worlds. So many things in the world are awful, and Elain is tired and relieved and alive, and what she wants is Tamlin against her, inside of her, somehow still alive with her at the end of this day.

She stretches, allowing his hand to fall, cup her breast, and feels the heat rise in her at his harsh breath.

“I thought we were going to argue,” he says, his thumb pressed against her nipple. She can feel every movement, every hesitation.

“You’re alive,” she says, casting out with her magic to pull the door shut, leaning towards him so that her breasts swell against the neckline of her gown and his fingers are trapped against her soft flesh. “And I will have to go to the Night and Day Courts in the morning.”

In seconds, with his assistance, her dress is undone, landing on the floor with a muffled thump, her undergarments flung alongside, and then Elain reaches for Tamlin, pushing up the soft fabric of his shirt and running her fingers over his skin, the golden hair that’s light on his chest and thicker on his forearms, the muscles of his chest and abdomen, the cock that strains through his pants at the gentle exploration of her fingers.

She’s never touched him there before. She’s never dared.

His lips are on her neck, his teeth against the skin as his thumbs, featherlight, skim her breasts, teasing her soft skin, and she can’t help the moan she looses, the urgency of her own fingers, scrabbling between his back and the wall of pillows she’s constructed.

“Are you all right?” she asks, knowing that in a moment all semblance of consideration will desert her.

He pulls her against him and nods, but she feels his fingers going cold. She pulls her hands from behind him and cups her palms around his fingers, holding them above her heart.

“I’m alive,” he says, a growl edging the words, as if to distract her from the exhaustion in his words. “I’m alive thanks to your magic.”

“I’m never going to let you forget that.” She curls herself beside him, hoping he hears the promise in the words. The declaration in them.

With a groan, he reaches over and tucks the blankets around her, up to her chin, strokes his thumb across her lips.

“You saved me,” he says, and though the weight of the day bears down on her, a thick exhaustion, Elain can’t stop smiling.

Over the next week, the firebird flies less and less, and Vassa spends more of each night in her room, curled up on the bed. Though he tries to hide it, Lucien has taken to sleeping on the floor, rousing himself at the slightest motion before spending his days far away. They’re getting closer to figuring out how to break her curse, he tells her, but Vassa has to work to feign interest, let alone believe him.

In both her human and firebird forms, her body feels as if its wrapped tight with cotton and pain, everything muffled, everything a strain. Elain’s laughter is harsh against her ears, Lucien’s worried looks are cloying and overfilled with pity. She hates that she cannot bear them.

She finds herself, one night, in the doorway of the High Lord’s bedroom, where Tamlin has been forced to wait for his innards to knit themselves together again. Already he looks fully healed to Vassa, but Elain has compelled him to remain in bed and Tamlin is clearly too besotted to put up much resistance.

“I see Lucien and Elain are still away,” he says when she greets him, the words not quite as jovial as he intends. A creature like that, forced into confinement, never rests easy. “Elain barely sleeps. She thinks only of breaking your curse.”

“Do you think that there is hope?” Vassa does not ask about Lucien, who no longer speaks to her about the breaking of the curse, but who is away with Elain, and who stays awake puzzling at all hours over reams of parchment and obscure spellbooks that smell like centuries of dust. Vassa falls asleep and he is leaning over his desk, making annotations, and when she wakes before dawn, she keeps finding Lucien in the same position.

“I believe in Elain,” Tamlin says, his gaze landing on her so powerfully that Vassa is reminded of what it means to be a High Lord, “I think she is only beginning to realize her capabilities. If she says it can be done, I believe her.”

“I am not so sure. I think Lucien has lost hope.” She has not made this confession to Elain or to Lucien himself because she can imagine the vast sadness in their eyes, the onset of grief. That she would be lost to them.

Still, even the sadness in Tamlin’s face is enough to steal her breath. She, who was bred and raised to withstand armies.

“I think Lucien would sacrifice the world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“In the stories,” she says, leaning on the threshold, “you were not nearly so perceptive.”

“If the stories are true, they describe me rightly as a monster.”

“You sacrificed yourself at the Autumn Court. No monster of my acquaintance has ever been so noble.”

“I knew this court would go on without me. The stories say you were beloved in Scythia.”

“All I ever wanted was to rule,” she says, because a queen accepts a compliment gracefully, but it’s been so long since she was last among her people that she’s beginning to wonder if it is true. If the things she’s always thought she wanted are the things she truly wants, now.

“Before you return--” Tamlin begins, but he’s interrupted by a flurry of footsteps, the intake of breath that precedes Elain’s voice.

“We figured out how to break the curse!” she announces, a riot of joy as she sweeps into the room, careful not to make contact with Vassa.

Behind her, Lucien and her sisters take a more sedate walk, and before Vassa steels herself to meet Lucien’s eyes, she takes in the careful void of emotion on Feyre Cursebreaker’s face, as she walks into Tamlin’s bedroom. Vassa knows enough of Prythian gossip to know what a moment this is, even if the tableau is innocent, the High Lord convalescing and his gaze intent on Elain, all pride and delight.

“Is it true?” Vassa makes herself ask, wrenching her eyes on Lucien. The deep violet under his eyes.

She does not miss the look that passes between him and Elain, the weight of it.

Still, he nods.

“When I touch you,” Elain says, her voice gone serious, “the pain is unique because my magic is attempting to pull the curse out of this world and into another, where it cannot harm you. But as part of his adjustments to the spell, Koschei ensured that if I removed the spell, I would shatter your humanity. That’s why I couldn’t take you from this world. I would kill you.”

“I was Made High Fae under similar circumstances,” Feyre says, every inch the High Lady even in her sweater and leggings and boots scuffed with wear. “But after realizing that assembling the High Lords was unlikely, Elain thought that Nesta, who can Make and Unmake, and I, with power of the High Lords, might be able to approximate their capacities. We’ve been determining a theory and practicing the spell and its timing for the past week.”

“ Someone is too slow with her magic,” Nesta interjects, rolling her eyes towards Feyre even as she smiles at Vassa with the confidence of an alpha predator.

If Vassa hadn’t been listening so closely, that would have been the moment she thought that everything would be resolved.

But: “I would be High Fae?”

“The combination of your curse and our magic means that you would have to become something new,” Feyre says, in a voice she no doubt uses on her child when he is so tired that all he can do is sob. The way that Vassa feels now.

All her life, she was raised to be the human queen of Scythia. She had always envisioned herself returning to rule there for the rest of the years that remained to her. Because she grew up learning the history of the faeries of this world. Such a queen would never be recognized, would never be accepted.

She would no longer be Queen Vassa of Scythia. She would no longer be a firebird, or a cursed queen, or a human woman.

She would no longer live with this curse eating its way through her, the fire raging in her veins as it prepares to swallow her whole.

She turns to Lucien, meets his eyes for the first time since he walked in the room. Sees the despair in them, the fear, and the hope. And another emotion, which at this moment Vassa can hardly bear. Still, she does not look away from him, tries to etch his expression into her mind, so that she’ll never forget his russet and gold gaze, which sees everything that makes up this world, the lips she’s kissed a thousand times, the bronze skin and red-orange-gold of his hair. The jagged scar which only highlights the handsome angles of his face and makes him more dear to her, for everything that he’s survived. Her Lucien, with his clever remarks and the wit that makes her cackle with laughter, whispering secrets and endearments to her every night, who has always made her feel as if maybe it were possible to live under this curse, so long as her life was illuminated by his light.

“This magic could kill you,” he says, “or destroy you past the point of recovery.”

She thinks of what it felt like, when Elain touched her this last time. What she might become even if the Archeron sisters are successful.

“How much longer do I have if we do nothing?” She tries to stay calm, not to upset Lucien, but still the words feel jagged in her throat.

“It’s possible that Koschei could reverse the spell,” Elain says, “if we compel him.”

For the first time since she’s entered the room, Tamlin speaks.

“You will not offer yourself to the death-lord,” he growls.

Elain moves toward him, but Vassa reaches toward her first, her fingers grasping for Elain’s wrist. A bolt of pain that shocks through her. The kind of pain that carries its end within itself, which cannot last forever.

Vassa thinks, in a rush, of all those new years she might have with Lucien, should this plan succeed. All the nights where the pain of holding him has overwhelmed her. Who she might be, at the end of this. No more days trapped within the mind of the firebird, no more nights watching the life drip out of her. There will be pain, but maybe, after, there will be something new. A future she has never even allowed herself to imagine.

“Break the curse,” she says.

For the first time in a long while, she sounds like her rightful self.

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nessianthrowaway · 3 years

Text

ACOSF 78.5

Wrote a chapter that i felt was missing, plz convey ur thoughts plagiarized the sex scene bc that felt uncomfy to write lol

Hours later, once Feyre and Nyx were sound asleep and Rhys had some color return to his cheeks, Nesta and Cassian flew back to the house. The new family was under vigilant watch by Mor and Elain, the latter who had refused to let Madja leave without the finest bouquet made from the rarest plants in the river house garden.

Mor had winnowed Gwyn and Emerie back to the library – Emerie had no desire to return to Windhaven just yet, especially when her home had been torn apart both by their Illyrian kidnappers and later, by Cassian’s utter panic. Nesta was not quite ready to part with her sisters-in-arms just yet, but knew they all desperately needed a bath and a warm meal.

Alone in the sky, Nesta rested her head against Cassian’s shoulder. She savored his scent, taking deep, heady breaths of him as they flew under the twinkling stars in the sky. She savored the feel of his strong heartbeat alongside the steady beat of his wings. She pressed a kiss to his jaw and idly traced the veins of his neck. She had missed this feeling desperately over the past week. And for a few terrifying moments on the slopes of Ramiel, she thought would never be in his arms again; the though threatened to set free the tears she hasn’t yet shed. Cassian must have sensed the direction her thoughts had headed in and only clutched her tighter to him.

Cassian flew them higher and higher, and with each beat of his wings, Nesta allowed the bone-tired weariness to creep in. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate a full meal or got a full night’s rest. She ached to be reunited with her bed or be reacquainted with the House’s culinary creations.

A few wingbeats later, Cassian arrived at the landing of the House. He gently lowered Nesta down to her feet, but as soon as her legs touched the ground they threatened to buckle. He wordlessly lifted her back up and carried her past the threshold of their home.

“Welcome home,” he whispered against her ear.

Nesta shuddered; her home, her friend. In response, the house brushed a calming wind against her forehead, and Nesta could smell of roast beef (or was it a steak?) wafting from her room and hear a trickle of water coming from the adjoining bath. As if the house knew exactly what she needed; an old nursemaid indeed.

Cassian carried her down to her room and cautiously set her down. Her knees wobbled but she remained upright. They both silently took in their surroundings and started; in the corner of the room stood a spiral staircase, a staircase connecting her room and Cassian’s above her.

Cassian chuckled, “Guess someone has been doing some redecorating while we’ve been away.”

“I guess so,” Nesta mused. To the House she said, “Thank you.” Nesta could’ve sworn the air around her bowed in response.

“What should we do with my room upstairs – we can turn it into an indoor training ring. Or an auxiliary library. Or into a giant closet. The opportunities are endless,” Cassian grinned.

Nesta blinked away the tears threatening to let loose. It was so silly – so silly to be brought to tears by something this mundane. But to have options, to have the ability to plan for the future. The future with him. This was something she would never again take for granted.

“We can do whatever we want.” She said in response. She took in a deep breath. “But right now, I think I really want a bath.”

Cassian nodded. “I can’t say I like the scent of you in another male’s clothes. I’m looking forward to using this outfit as kindling.”

Nesta snorted, and slowly, painfully walked into the bath chamber towards the already drawn bath. The enticing scents of lavender and lilacs drifted towards her; but she found herself too exhausted to peel off her clothes, oversized though they were. Cassian silently entered behind her and gently took off the stolen, stinking clothing. He lifted her naked body into the bath and Nesta groaned at the first touch of warm water against her aching body.

The water didn’t sting against her injuries as it should have; taking a quick glance at the bottles lined up next to her told Nesta that the House had mixed a healing salve into the water. Nesta couldn’t be more grateful.

As soon as she was settled in the bath, a tray of roast beef and vegetables appeared in front of her, resting across the tub. Next to the main course was the most beautiful slice of chocolate cake Nesta had ever seen. The sight of the steaming meat and shining dessert had Nesta ready to break down in tears again.

“Looks good enough to eat.” Cassian said, a touch too innocently. Nesta smiled up at him.

“Do you want to get in?” She asked him, echoing the question from so many months before.

The amber in his eyes darkened, his eyes scanning over her body like a brand. His gaze lingered on a cut on her shoulder; Cassian sucked in a breath, and schooled his face into neutrality. Courtier indeed. His response was the same now as it was then, and a softer type of pain slashed across his eyes, “You’re hurt.”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

Cassian growled, low and heady in his throat, and Nesta’s blood sang in response.

Cassian pointed towards the tray of food. “Alright. Get started on your dinner. I’m going to go dispose of these godsforsaken clothes and be right back.” Cassian turned and picked up the pile of torn and dirty clothes and strode out of the bathroom.

Nesta’s tired and aching body thrummed in anticipation, creating a strange combination of exhaustion and eagerness. She turned her attention towards her food, and began to eat, counting down the seconds until her mate returned.

Cassian hadn’t been gone more than four minutes when he returned to the bath. He laughed softly at his view: Nesta dozing off, in front of her a half-eaten plate of roast beef and a second plate, completely empty, where not a single crumb of chocolate cake remained. Nesta’s mouth was lined with her dessert; he had never known his mate to be an ill-mannered eater, but the residue from her meal showed him how starved she must have been.

Mate. His mate. He leaned down and helped himself to the remaining beef and vegetables on her plate. This wasn’t quite the food sharing ceremony that he wanted, but what was hers was his, and what was his was hers. They might as well start sharing now.

He lifted the empty tray off the bath and set it on the floor. He turned to grab a towel but was halted by Nesta stirring.

“What took you so long?” She grumbled.

“I was gone for less than 5 minutes. You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t care. Get in.” Nesta threw as much bite into the command as she could, but her exhaustion won out. Instead, she wound up sounding like a petulant child. Irritated, she made to scooch forward in the tub and stared up at him expectantly.

Cassian loosed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Your wish is my command, my lady.” He peeled off his clothes, keeping his eyes on hers. He wanted her – needed her – badly, but knew she needed rest. He lowered himself into the bath behind her, wings and all.

“Dunk your hair in so I can wash you.”

Nesta obeyed, and was rewarded by his fingers skillfully lathering something scented with lilacs into her hair. He massaged her temple, her hair, and behind her ears with such skill that she moaned. She felt him hard and ready behind her and made to reach for him. He flicked her hand away, his laugh a quiet grumble in his throat. Cassian leaned his mouth down against her ear to whisper, “When you’re healed and looking pretty again, then I’ll let you fuck me wherever you please in this House.”

“Using my own words against me. You’re a quick study, Courtier.” Nesta chuckled, “You would think saving the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court would entitle me to some sort of a reward.”

Cassian felt his heart clench, and quickly forced the somber thoughts out of his mind. She had saved them; she had saved them all. He would never stop being thankful for his brave, beautiful mate. “Dunk your hair back in the water and we can get you dried up.”

“I don’t want to leave the bath yet. I like it here.”

I like it here with you, were the words that were left unspoken, but understood, between the two of them. Cassian nodded silently against her, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.

Nesta leaned more fully against him and closed her eyes, and Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist. In their home, his mate in his arms, he relished in this moment. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Nesta whispered, “You’re more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

Cassian stared down at her, but her eyelids were drooping and he knew that she needed rest. He only held her closer and began soothing strokes down her leg.

Safe in her mate’s arms, Nesta slept.

Hours, or maybe even days, later, Nesta awoke in her bed. It was dark again – could she have actually slept an entire day? She rubbed her eyes awake.

Wings, she realized. She had been sleeping cocooned in her mate’s wings; they both were. She turned to face him; her beautiful, kind, and fiercely loving mate. Her love.

It was rare that she awoke before him; his Illyrian training had him up at the crack of dawn every single day. It wasn’t often that Nesta had an opportunity like this, an opportunity to stare at his perfect face. A face she hadn’t seen for a week. A face she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate in their reunion that had been cut short.

Conveniently enough, they were both naked – she peered down and laughed quietly. Even in sleep, he was ready for her.

Nesta lifted an arm to trace the velvety membrane of his wing. She traced from its outermost border toward his back, stroking determinedly where skin met wing, and pressed a kiss to his chest, trailing her mouth upwards. She reached her other hand down and began pumping him softly, and felt her own wetness begin to pool between her legs.

“Good morning,” he whispered when her mouth met his.

“Good morning,” she whispered back, smiling. She lifted her hips in silent command.

Grinning wickedly, Cassian obeyed. He nudged at her entrance but halted there, and Nesta whimpered.

Cassian snickered, “Still so impatient, Archeron.”

Nesta growled. She arched her neck in a second command digging her fingers into his shoulders, and Cassian didn’t hesitate a single second before licking up her neck and plunging into her at the same moment.

I missed this. Being drenched in you. Nesta gasped at Cassian’s voice, as clear as any words spoken aloud, in her mind. Cassian chuckled, his laugh a song to her blood. One of the many benefits of the mating bond, in case you forgot.

Cassian drew out in a long slide, leveraging Nesta’s stunned silence to his benefit. He thrust back, seating himself fully and watched her eyes roll back into her head. The sight of her so undone so quickly had him ready to come instantly, but he willed his cock to relax.

He withdrew again, and watched his cock slide out, gleaming with her wetness, and then plunged again. With every thrust, he lost himself in her, as if he hadn’t already done so weeks, months, and years ago. He lost all sense of himself, and there was her, only her.

I love you. He said into her mind with every thrust. I love you.

Nesta couldn’t stop the barrage of tears freeing themselves from her eyes. The words that had evaded her for so long, the words she knew to be true with his every action and every glance in her direction. The words she didn’t know she needed to hear until now.

“I love you,” she choked out, “I have always loved you.”

I love you. With everything I have ever been, with everything that I am, with everything I will ever be. I love you.

Release barreled into them both at the same moment, and he rammed up into her with such a mighty thrust that they both screamed. She clamped around him, and he spilled as much of himself as he could into her.

They clung to each other, Nesta stroking his arm and Cassian clutching her tightly to his chest on top of his thundering heart.

“I love you,” he whispered, silver lining his eyes, “More and more with every passing moment, with every passing day.”

She kissed him deeply, letting her lips and mouth and tongue convey what words could not. Surrounded by the love of her House, the love of her mate, and her growing love for herself, she said to him, do it again.

Cassian grinned, happy to oblige.

#acosf #sjm #sarah j. maas #cassian #nesta #nesta acotar #nessian #fanfic

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ahsokasanity · 3 years

Text

Chapter Eleven

A Court of Shadow & Ribbons

Here’s the Chapter Link for earlier story

He heard Nesta and Cassian moving about the house, talking and getting breakfast before he opened his eyes. It was strange to feel so disoriented and not be the first person up and about. He had always been an early riser. You don’t gather information and spy on enemies and allies alike if you lay around half asleep.

It was only moments before he joined the couple in the dining room where the house piled their plates with breakfast protein and a colourful bowl of fruit to share. They all tucked in to it like starving Nagas.

Azriel said between mouthfuls “Didn’t you two take any time out to eat in the last two days?” He didn’t need to mention what they needed to take a break from.

Cassian grinned, “Not food”

Azriel spat out some of his bacon and eggs and Nesta shook her head ruefully at her mate.

“Where did you end up after the club Brother, you weren’t here until training yesterday?” Cassian tried to make polite conversation – and find out some gossip Az assumed.

“Mor and Emerie and I stayed at Rita’s until close, then we went back to Mor’s and I came back in time to hold my hands over my ears while I got changed and then trained those of the group dedicated enough to be here”

Nesta blushed and Cassian guffawed. Azriel kept eating pointedly, stopping more gossip about where Emerie ended up, how his own libido was going and anything else that Cassian might think up to allude to his own successful sex life.

Nesta was interested though. “Didn’t you take Emerie home to Windhaven?”

“Mor was going to take her home. They danced so much that training was off the table” He guessed that Mor would winnow Emerie to Windhaven at some point – truth and half truth. Azriel edged the topic. Mor would need to tell the group soon if she was going to see Emerie regularly, it was too hard to hide.

“Oh well, she’s got to be here this morning. We’ve got a lot to catch up on” Nesta took another bite, Azriel swallowed his reply You sure do…

It may not be remarked upon. The night court had known for many years that Mor – and Rhysand for that matter, had found pleasure in both males and females. It was only going to have any tough implications for Mor if she decided to be with Emerie, be seen with her, make any sort of life with the Illyrian. It would make ripples further than their group, than Velaris. All the way to the Hewn City, and for Emerie dealing with the Illyrians on their home turf at her shop.

Az reminded himself to talk to Mor about this – to see if she needed him for anything, to say anything. As the spymaster, he was good at keeping secrets, but it would be embarrassing not to know in the first place.

Everyone made it to training that day. Gwyn was pleased to have her sisters back and they spent the first warming up period stretching and talking and giggling. Cassian left it to Azriel to discipline any outbursts from the trio. He knew that he wouldn’t have any power to silence Nesta. Not when he believed they were talking about his sexual prowess.

Gwyn didn’t add much to the conversation until Emerie mentioned Azriel joining them at the club and that he had mostly danced with her and Mor up until he walked them home and flew off to be ready for training.

“You mean, after he dropped me home he was just with you all at Rita’s, not um, with someone, or anything?” She said it quietly and looked at her feet, embarrassed by her outburst, but desperate inside to hear the answer.

Nesta grinned. “Don’t ask me. Cass and I were already home by then. We left after he took Emerie to, ah, dance”

Emerie appreciated the save, but Gwyn looked downhearted. She decided to put Gwyn out of her misery.

“He wasn’t asking me to dance with him, not really. He could tell that I liked the music but I didn’t know many people there so he just introduced me” She nodded adding weight to her comment. “You know, he’s Azriel. Not my type if you know what I mean”

“Not your type?” Gwyn looked astounded “Surely he’s everyone’s type” She eyed him strolling around the other side of the ring. “Oh, I mean, cool. That’s what I thought you’d say, I didn’t mean…” Gwyn shook her head and tied again “You know…..”

“Yeah, we do” Nesta clapped Gwyn on the back. “Enough gossip, work time”

Gwyn couldn’t help throwing a glance or two Azriel’s way during the morning and noted that she caught him looking at her sometimes. She felt herself going red, and at times her stomach flipped over and she had to catch her breath.

Azriel took Cassian aside once the Idisi were into duel sparring with wooden swords, or real ones for the six who had completed the Blood Rite qualifier.

“I’m going to ask her to come to dinner with us” he spoke quietly into his shoulder.

“Who” Cassian bellowed, looking across the females, his stare snagged by Nesta attacking Ananke ferociously.

“Urgh, you’re a self absorbed bat some days” Azriel shoved Cassian who merely stepped aside and crossed his arms.

“As you well know, my equally batty friend, I will support you no matter how you want to destroy yourself” he smirked.

“And look who’s talking General Mated, Yes Nesta, of course Nesta, how can I please you Nesta…” Azriel teased

“So many ways you’ve never thought of Brother, we found this style last night, it was a-maze……”

“Enough Cass, enough. I get the idea” He spoke more quietly “Just dinner, with me, and you two. Then you and Nesta can find somewhere else to be” he added quickly.

“Ok. Ask her, but tell me this. I know you seem to have let go of the idea of Mor” Azriel looked discomforted “and maybe of Elain”, more shadows clung to Azriel’s shoulders, “but are you sure you want to start this?” He looked sincerely worried for his friend and maybe a little for Gwyn too.

Azriel squared his shoulders and said “Yes, mother help me, I am.

Cassian went to Nesta and asked her to stay a moment with Gwyn- he whispered in her ear that Azriel would speak with Gwyn about dinner. So she kept Gwyn talking and shushed Emerie off for now to the water station. Azriel was to winnow her back to Windhaven today.

The other three gave Azriel and Gwyn some space when he approached and Gwyn was about to bolt before Azriel spoke

“A moment please Gwyneth”

“Gwyneth?” He blushed a little and she smiled at his discomfort

“Would you like to come up to the house for dinner this evening? With Nesta, Cass and I”

“Well, I ah….” Gwyn was stuck for words Az interrupted

“You know I can’t promise any special food, the house will be in charge of the menu. It’s always a surprise!” He smiled, an engaging smile, Gwyn have never seen him so vulnerable, so hopeful.

“Thank you, I would like to have dinner, with you all” She nodded and near ran down the steps. Emerie followed her

“I’ll be right back” and she sprinted after Gwyn

“Well that went well” Cassian laughed, Azriel answered

“Back off Cass” but he was serious and steady.

“I know Az, I promise best trainer behaviour, I will be on. No innuendo, no licking the inside of my mate’s wrist” Nesta blushed and smacked his shoulder giving him the opportunity to grab her hand, he then ran his tongue up her vein from elbow to hand.

“See, I’ve done it now so I don’t need to do it later” They all laughed and Emerie returned

“She’s OK, just flustered” She looked at Azriel “She’s fine really, happy even”

Azriel nodded his thanks and held out his hand for Emerie to take

“Off to Windhaven then?” Az said

As he went to step through the fold of their lands, Emerie blurted

“Could we make a stop first?”

Azriel smiled and made a quick re-alignment.

They arrived at Mor’s doorway, the day clear and sparkling, a slight ocean breeze waved the trellis flowers

“Thank you Sir!, Azriel” she corrected, “do you think she’ll mind?”

“Why don’t you go and find out” He grinned

The door opened and Emerie was beckoned inside and jogged up the stairs. Mor waved and mouthed thanks to Azriel as he winnowed to the River house.

#acotar #acosf #Gwynriel #Nessian #Mormerie #Secret rendevous #training #valkyries #sjm #a date #flustered

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dutifullybitchypeach · 3 years

Text

ACOSF FINAL THOUGHTS. 3/5

It was good. But it could have been EPIC. I think I got caught up in the hype and should have remained blissfully ignorant. Loved Nestas journey and her finding happiness. WELL DESERVED.

However lots of loose threads, ignored angst, rushed ending, pregnancy plot overshaowed a lot - 2 chapters wasted!

It was Nestas book with Cassians POV to balance. It was interesting to read how skewed, almost backwards it was the way Nesta saw things. Like the IC behaviour/comments at times to her was counter acted then with Cassians interpretation. Really showed her low her self esteem was.

I know it's Nesta letting go and being happy with herself and I believe SJM wrote it this way to be deliberately CLEAR that the IC are NOT perfect and are 100% capable of being total pricks. BUT that they are not held accountable for their actions the same way Nesta is, was frustrating. Cold hard facts: Nesta never murdered/stole/lied/tortured/assaulted anyone. She was a bum and a drunk who spewed hurtful shite. An angry bitch. However the only thing she ever wilfully killed was the King of Hyburn at the NC's request. The level of disgust from Amren/Rhys/Mor directed at Nesta in the beginning was uncomfortable to read and didn't sit well with me.

I'll have to read it again but I was not satisfied . Nestas character arc started half way through ACOWAR. She stepped up when they needed her to.

Feyre agreeing despite her experience in Spring was a step backwards for me. Then again it's exactly what Nesta needed. Cruel to be kind. And Feyre had Nestas back repeatedly throughout the narrative.

Loved Nestas story all of it, training, friendships, self love, etc etc. Gwyn and Emerie ❤ All epic. And she's well...more interesting! Detail on Cassian killing all those monsters, scene in the big, wow so good.

Feysand overkill or perhaps Rhys overkill. Sorry SJM but you need to pull back.

Nessian happened the way I thought it would. That Cassian isn't perfect is normal. His heart is Nestas, it's pretty clear. Smut scenes, I've read better sorry !!! Intensity was not the same as previous books. More sexy and less crude for me. Missed Cassians swagger but I guess we are in his head, and he's a big cuddly insecure bear. With a big d**k.

More thoughts (in my humble opinion).

Feysand pregnancy DRAMA. Unnecessary. Keep it, just don't let it happen the way it did. I've already said I thought the sacrifice should have been for Gywn/Emerie and there is a simple tie in IMO (see previous posts). Or perhaps Cassian actually stabbing himself rather than hurting Nesta with the Queen. But I get SJM and 'losing' her power, that much power just undermines the remaining plot for next few books. Nesta could just blast them all to hell. And she stole it in anger and has let it go with love. Growth! She is clearly still hella powerful. We don't know the half of it.

For me the above was the most irritating. The ending squeezed in. And I like Feysand. But Nesta healing with Feyre needn't have been so convoluted. Or drastic. More private, perhaps a real angsty, tense conversation and confession. They didn't discuss anything.

The last few chapters too much went on...important moments; first females to win The Rite, sidelined. Accepting the mating bond, sidelined. WTF is Nestas power now, sidelined. Queen dead, sidelined. An ILLYRANIAN FEMALE KICKING ASS sidelined. I mean Christ that was Cassians goal! And nothing. NOTHING. Not even a handshake.

Rhys. It was plain uncomfortable. But someone mentioned SJM deliberately wrote Rhys that way for this book and that's true. In the Feyre POV she mentions "two mates" the reasonable one and the asshole so that, I think, is telling. He's def more HL and pulls rank in this book with everyone.

Rhys clearly witnesses Nestas trauma from her nightmare but there is no recognition with Nesta. Not a peep. Yet he clearly feels massive regret. Is that for our benefit, the readers? That at least we know. Don't hate on Rhys. (I like Rhys btw)

I'd have liked a full circle scene where they are back in THAT sitting room admiring baby Nyx and Nesta just says a few things. Cooly and calmly. She's happy they intervened, but for all their wisdom and years of living it left a lot to be desired. Nothing too crazy, just a few delivered lines, Nesta style.

Felt Nesta lost a little of her fire. But maybe you see it more from the others POV. Though they always provoked her and it was a defence mechanism. And she was a bitch at times. With others outside the IC it's clear she is not like that. Make what you will of that.

I know SJM doesn't like to over detail things but a moment with Feyre/Nyx/Nesta alone would have been nice.

The sisters never meeting Gwyn or Emerie. A scene like that would have been powerful.

Amren is as Mor rightly said is a "cranky old bastard". And "Welcome back to the Night Court Nesta Archeron" screamed, now that you've scrubbed up love come on home. I don't know. Amren was clearly done with Nesta she was the one that stood by her the most and got sick shit of her. All Amren can command is respect now and Nesta really wanted hers, possibly the most.

Can I make a point about people harping on about slut shaming. Amren made one catty observation, that Nesta would ride almost anything. No other character mentioned it. Not one. And Nesta enjoyed her bed partners, she refers to some of it (threesome!). There was zero shame. And SJM hates slut shaming. So stop. It's not a thing.

I'm nitpicking but there was a lot of hurt just left off. Perhaps that was the point. SJM was like, fuck it, Nesta doesn't want to feel that anger or resentment anymore she wants to live and be happy. She's found inner peace with herself and those that matter most. Me wanting justification for how they treated her at timea is not the point!!! Lol.

The painting, that stood out for me in ACOFAS. It hurt to read it. Maybe Feyre had nothing to paint of Nesta. They didn't talk. Share thoughts. I think Feyre asking Nesta herself to show her memories of The Rite so she could paint it would have had more impact. But it read very plainly like now you've earned your spot here...or I like you now or something. She was deliberately not there, perhaps until she wanted to be. Or finally accepted and embraced life with the IC. It was an unnecessary detail that just fueled the Feysand halo (again I like Feysand).

Nesta made those weapons therefore they are hers. Amren is power hungry. Rhys seems happy to hand them over. High King drama, I can see it. It could happen.

It's clear that Nesta didn't want to leave the NC, therefore she had to fall in. People have a problem with 'who's boss' but we've only ever had court dynamics from Rhys/Feyre POV. And they are the top dogs in the NC. We are going to have to get used of seeing Feysand make decisions from the outside. It's THEIR court. And to be fair, Feyre always had Nestas back.

And yes I believe you always have a choice with Rhys. I know some scoff at that.

Rhys kneeling to Nesta further proves our gal is a Queen. Feyre is the only one he's ever bowed to. SJM gave us that moment for Nesta and we will have to be content despite he's questionable aggressive behaviour. He clearly has issues with family given his past.

Enjoyed seeing a bit of Elaine. Finally. And Nesta delivered some home truths! Elaine needs to find some backbone. Really looking forward to her story. Go mad SJM!

Feysand POV should have been the fallout of Rhys keeping baby drama from Feyre. Now THAT I would want to hear. And perhaps Feyre saying to Nesta I'm "secretly glad you told me".

Eris I always found super interesting. It's clear to me he knows Mor is gay. Him helping her would have meant she was trapped in the AC. 'Rejecting her' allowed Rhys and Co to save her and to have freedom. She screwed him by keeping it secret. His arc will be with Lucien I think.

Az and Elaine not for me. Sorry. I'd like Lucien to find some happiness. I've spoken of this before see other posts. Az tortures people for a living, he has serious issues.

I've already spoken about Mor....remember her lol. Where is she! Ha! Actions speak louder than words with Mor. Winnow please my mate is being a dick, teach me to dance, dress shopping. But I guess she's Feyres friend, Nesta has hers. Nesta feeling ashamed as to how she treated Mor, will be interesting to see how Mor feels about that oul time when I was such a hypocrite, lol, what I really meant was....

There are 2 more books and a novella so who knows. Nessian ain't over.

Going to look forward to the fanfiction!

Thanks SJM.

#acosf spoilers #nesta archeron #nessian #a court of silver flames #elriel #feysand #sarah j maas #sjm #lucien vanserra #elucien #azriel

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