#but all illyrian women apparently don’t get their wings

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Lucien x Nesta friendship drabble

Nesta introduces Lucien to her chosen family! @sonics-atelier I wrote it :)) Nesta surveyed the Autumn Court male coolly. She could see the similarities between his face and Eris’s. Her sister had not overstated his cruel beauty. Since she was now married to his brother, and he was in turn mated to Elain…she supposed she would have to get to know him now. That didn’t mean she was going to make it easy on him. She let pure dismissal freeze over her stare as she looked him over. Lucien Vanserra did not balk from her stare. A ghost of a smirk flitted across his face as she continued to stare him down. “Are you admiring my metal eye, or just contemplating killing me, Nesta Archeron?” Nesta couldn’t help the small smile that spread over her face. There were few who could tolerate her spiciness. Cassian had been unable to; he had loved her spiciness, sure, but only when it was directed at others. Not him. But both Lucien and Eris loved it. It must be those Autumn court genes.

“I was just wondering…” She gestured to that eye. “I forgot who made that for you. Or did you make it yourself?”

Lucien laughed. “By the Cauldron, no. I have a very dear friend in the Dawn Court who specializes in this sort of thing. She herself has a metal arm, you know.” Nesta straightened. “What is her name?”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just for a friend,” Nesta said evasively. Lucien snorted. “You’re going to have to give me more than that horseshit if you want me to reveal her name.”

“What’s the big deal?” Nesta snapped.

“I don’t know you,” Lucien said simply. “I’d like to know why you want to know. You’re married to a brother I haven’t had a proper relationship with in centuries and possess incredible powers in the Dread Trove and that death magic you got going. Forgive me for being cautious.”

Nesta sighed. She wanted to argue further, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “Fine. One of my friends, Emerie, is an Illyrian. The Illyrians have a barbaric practice of cutting their women’s wings. So… I was wondering if this friend of yours could possibly make her metal wings.”

Lucien gaped. “Are you fucking kidding me? How is such a practice still occurring after all this time? Hasn’t that stupid Inner Circle done anything about it?”

“Apparently not,” Nesta said. “But about the wings…”

“This seems within her ballpark. Why don’t I take all of you to see her? Nuan will be able to judge better than me.”

Nesta nodded. “Let me talk to Gwyn and Emerie and get back to you.”

Later that day, Gwyn and Emerie arrived in tow with Nesta. “Do you really think she’ll be able to make the wings?” Gwyn asked. Her teal eyes were as large as saucers and filled with hope. Emerie was taut as a bowstring by her side, not daring to voice the hopes in her mind. Lucien only smiled gently at Gwyn. “Nuan hasn’t failed yet.” As if in emphasis, Lucien’s metal eye whirred to focus more fully on Gwyn. Emerie jumped away, cussing, but Gwyn grinned. “That is so cool.”

Lucien smirked. “It gave me the ability to see things that nobody else can see. So, in a way, losing my eye was a blessing.”

“How did you lose it?” Nesta asked.

Lucien turned to her. “You probably know that Prythian was ruled by that tyrant Amarantha for fifty years.” Nesta nodded. “Well, I told her to go back to the shit-hole she crawled out of. So, she clawed out my eye.” Emerie’s jaw dropped, and Gwyn murmured noises in awe. Nesta raised her brows, impressed against her will. “That’s exceptionally brave of you.”

Lucien shrugged. “I don’t respond well to threats or tyrants.” Flame sizzled in his brown eye. Nesta smiled. “Neither do I.” Lucien laughed. “I figured as much when you made a death promise to the King of Hybern.”

Nesta smiled at Lucien. She didn’t know him well, but she had already decided she liked the male.

“I’m not sure I can winnow all three of you,” Lucien said. “You should probably bring my brother, Nesta.” Nesta nodded and came to get him.

Lucien was left alone in the room with Emerie and Gwyn. “Who cut off your wings?” Lucien asked. Ok, maybe not the best icebreaker, but they’d asked about his eye so it was only fair. Emerie grimaced. “My father.”

Lucien swore, low and vicious. “Asshole father. I can relate.”

Emerie scoffed. “Wonder what it’s like to have decent parents?”

“Beats me,” Lucien said. He turned to Gwyn. “Do you know?”

Gwyn shrugged. “I barely remember mine.”

“That’s a step up from being traumatized by them, I suppose,” Lucien said, and the three of them laughed.  Nesta returned to the room with her husband in tow. “Lucien, can you take Gwyn and Emerie?” “Yes,” Lucien said. He avoided speaking to his brother. “Hold on tight, my ladies,” Lucien said softly to Nesta’s friends. Gwyn was positively beaming at him, and Emerie was little better. Nesta wasn’t sure if she should be glad the two of them were so comfortable in another male’s presence, or irritated that they’d fallen for the Vanserra charm so quickly. Not like she could talk, though. Eris had a shit-eating grin on his face as Nesta faced him. “Looks like my brother might just steal your friends away from you.” “That would only make me as friendless as you, Eris.”

Eris chuckled. “Why do I need friends when I have you, Nesta Archeron?”

Nesta blushed as Eris winnowed them away.

The dawn court was exquisite. The colors in the sky were so soft and comforting, like honey. It wasn’t quite as beautiful as the Autumn Court, but it had its own charm. It was a little chilly, and Lucien was about to offer Nesta his cloak when Eris beat him to the punch. He shrugged, offering his cloak to Gwyn instead, who gladly took it. He led the way to the metal workshop he had frequented countless times to hang out with his good friend. Nuan squealed in delight when she saw him, running over to hug him. “Lulu! I missed you!!”

Nesta turned to Lucien incredulously. “Lulu?”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “She earned the right to call me that after she made my eye.”

Nesta and Eris wore identical smirks on their faces, and Lucien was about to roast the shit out of them when Nuan spoke again. “Are we here for the Illyrian?”

Emerie stiffened ever so slightly. “I stopped being Illyrian the moment my father cut my wings. I am a Valkyrie.”

“As you say,” Nuan said.

“Yes, Nuan. We were wondering if you would be able to make prosthetic wings for her.”

Nuan inspected the shredded wings. “This has been cut highly unevenly,” Nuan said. “I may have to cut a little bit more off to make it more even. Under a faerie drug, of course, so she wouldn’t feel anything.”

Nesta said, “Emerie? Are you ok with that?”

Emerie was staring at Nuan. “If I let you do that, would you be able to make wings for me? Would I be able to fly again?”

“You would need to relearn how to fly, of course, but yes, I can perfectly make usable wings for you.” Silent tears poured down Emerie’s face, and Nesta and Gwyn moved to embrace her. Lucien’s heart strained at the camaraderie, the easy acceptance and understanding. Something he had had himself, once upon a time. He shut down the thought.

“How much would it cost?”

“Seventy faerie bits, but for my favorite customer, I’ll give you a 15-bit discount,” Nuan said, swatting his arm playfully. Lucien grinned. “You honor me, my lady. And how long will it take to make?”

Nuan thought. “I was actually halfway into a wing project, which I think I can perfectly mold to fit her wingspan. Overall, probably a day?”

Lucien turned to his companions. “Are you all fine with staying?”

Nesta arched a brow at Lucien. “And do you have a place where we can stay?”

Lucien gasped in mock horror. “Of course I do! What sort of male do you take me for, Lady Death?”

“Certainly one with a death wish, foxy.”

“I’m perfectly happy to stay if everybody else is,” Eris said. “It’s not like I had anything specific going on today.”

“Same,” Emerie said. Gwyn nodded in agreement. “Then come with me, everyone.” “Are you ready?” Nuan asked Emerie. The jagged edges of her ruined wings had been evened out so that Nuan could attach her new microfiber wings. “They’re not quite bat wings,” Nuan admitted. “They’re closer to Peregryn wings, but that just means they’re softer and more flexible. And more colorful, if you’d like.”

Emerie’s eyes widened. “You mean I can make them whatever color I want?” “Of course.” Emerie grinned at her companions. “How cool would it be if I had purple wings?”

“It would match your friendship bracelet,” Nesta said.

Lucien snorted. “You guys have friendship bracelets? And you were making fun of my friend’s nickname for me.” Nesta grinned at Lucien. “Yes we have friendship bracelets, and we are not ashamed, foxy.”

Lucien shrugged. “If you say so.”

Later, Nuan carefully approached Emerie with the purple wings. “Hold still,” she commanded. The wings were very complicated, with many interlocking pieces, but finally Nuan got them on.

“Flap,” she ordered. Emerie obeyed and was stunned to feel the wings obey her. Nesta and Gwyn were squealing in the background, Eris’s hand squeezing Nesta’s tightly. Emerie sobbed over and over again, thanking Nuan for the gift, and Nuan hugged her. “It’s no better than you deserve, Emerie.”

Later, when Emerie, Gwyn, and Eris had all left, Nesta and Lucien were left alone together.

“You’re not bad, for a Fae male,” Nesta said. Lucien laughed and shook his head. “A glowing recommendation. I’m going to tape that to my wall. Nesta Archeron said, and I quote, ‘you’re not bad.’” Nesta smiled. “You must be very well-connected, if you know a tinkerer like Nuan.”

Lucien shrugged. “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.” “That sounds far more High Lord-like than people like Beron or Rhysand ever will be.”

Lucien let Nesta see all the power simmering in his veins. “That’s why my brothers tried their very best to break and kill me.” Nesta smiled. “Perhaps you could take over the Spring Court from Tamlin. Or rule over Hybern. There’s a power gap there, isn’t there?”

Lucien nodded. “I don’t know you very well, but I can’t think of anyone more suited to rule,” Nesta said. Frank. Honest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Nesta Archeron.” They may not be friends just yet, but there was a budding relationship there. It hadn’t taken long for both to grow to respect the other immensely.

#nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #nesta x lucien #neris #the valkyries #emerie of illyria #emerie #gwyneth berdara #pro gwyneth berdara #nuan acotar #lucien x nuan #fanfic

[sunrisinqsky]

if wings can heal to the extent of full use again/if people have the power to heal wings completely, why the fuck can’t Illyrian women’s wings be healed in a way where they can use them again

#the complete misogyny in this book #why can’t feyre get a c section #or energies wings get healed #but cassian’s wings can after being completely shredded apart #and his gut hanging out #like #soldiers had to carry him off the field #you could probably hold his stomach #but all illyrian women apparently don’t get their wings #anti acotar

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

              !!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

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Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well. 

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot. 

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title. 

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great. 

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court. 

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next. 

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know. 

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.  

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick. 

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it.  They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not. 

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment. 

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER? 

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better.  I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic. 

#acosf #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames #rhysand #feysand

[unhealthyfanobsession]

jealous cassian but this time instead of competing with high lords and sons of high lords what if it's a general from another court... this general could also be a lover of romance books and sweets ;)

I had a lot of fun with this one and I may have fallen a little bit in love with my own OC 🤷‍♀️

Nesta Archeron was not a force of nature. People loved to describe strong women as forces of nature, but that wasn’t her. That was Feyre. Feyre was brash and wild and unpredictable as a tsunami or an avalanche.

Nesta Archeron was a collection of cosmic power held tight and controlled beneath iron thick magic-infused skin.

Which made her an amazing general. All of that power and her amazing control. That was what was required to lead a legion.

Contrary to popular belief, Cassian was not a wild thing. He was not a good general because he was wild and elemental. He was a good general because he was in control. Because he woke up every morning and he didn’t flash his siphons around and try to beat anyone into submission. He trained. He fought. He lead by example. He flew at the head of his legions. He showed them the he was the best.

Mates were equals. It should have surprised no one that Nesta wanted to raise an army.

And she did. Oh she did. Nesta Archeron went to every court in Prythian and she picked up women who wanted to fight. She went down into the Court of Nightmares and took any women who wanted to fight with her. Freed them. Liberated them. Nesta planned on a small unit of females. By the time she was done she commanded thousands. It was the second largest military force in Prythian. Right after the Illyrians. Which was a nightly topic of debate. When she would surpass him. Cassian would be pissed if it happened sooner than a century.

Nesta was determined to make it happen by the end of the decade. Which was why she had set up this meeting with the new general of Spring.

“General,” the tall, pale man inclined his head, light brown hair falling over his brow as he did. “General,” he said it again, inclining his head in Cassian’s direction now. Lips tipping up in an amused smile and pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having you both here?”

Nesta adjusted the knife strap around her thigh and moved into the room ahead of both males. “Cassian has decided to high-jack my meeting because he is intimidated by my success. His official reason, however, is that you are new and he comes to speak on behalf of the Night Court. To ensure that your goals are aligned.”

“Hmm, and you?” The general pulled out a chair at the head of the table and gestured for Nesta to take it. His breath tickled her neck as he leaned in to push the chair in after she sat. “What are your interests, Nesta Archeron.”

“Romance novels and chocolate cake, mostly.” Cassian laughed.

“Good taste,” the general smiled. “Hadley Minn?” a well-know romance novelist from Dawn. Sweet stories of proper young ladies falling in love and having missionary sex.

Nesta smiled just a little. “Sellyn Drake.”

He whistled low under his breath. “I like your style, Archeron.”

Cassian’s eyebrows drew together as he watched this male look over Nesta with a new type of appreciation.

“My name is Malakai.” The general reached his hand out first to Nesta, holding on a little too long and then to Cassian. Who squeezed his hand harder than necessary. The general just smiled broadly. “Call me Kai.”

“Well Kai,” Cassian leaned back in his chair, wings spreading out behind him. “What can you tell me about the Spring Court’s forces now that your court has got its army together enough to have a general?”

Kai just kept smiling. Kind and open. “And what would you tell me about your forces, if asked?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Cassian admitted.

“So no disrespect general, but…”

“I told him this was pointless,” Nesta rolled her eyes. “I, on the other hand, have something of actual use to discuss with you.”

“Happy to be of service,” the Spring general winked.

Cassian tensed up in his chair. arms crossing over each other and face going stone hard.

“Excellent. Now, I know your High Lord is a chauvinist, but I’d like to start by asking if you are too, because that will determine how I approach this conversation.”

The air tensed for a second. Cassian prepared to jump in between his mate and this male. Insulting someone’s High Lord… he’d be surprised if the male managed to just kick her out and not attack like a feral animal.

“Is she always this direct?” Kai’s smile never faltered. Not for a second.

“Talking to him instead of me answers that question,” Nesta muttered. “So, here’s what you’re going to-”

“I did not mean to offend you, General. I assure you it is my sincerest belief that females are just as militarily capable as males.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “So you plan to train females along with males in your new army?”

“Of course I do,” Kai shrugged. “Who would be stupid enough to give up half their military power because of their sex?”

“Spring is a small court,” Cassian said. “You only have one army. It gets more complicated when there are several. In the larger territories.”

“I see.”

“What he means to say is that significant parts of the Autumn, Night, Day, and Winter courts do not train their females to fight. Their main armies might, but different territories in the courts run that way. And actually Night and Autumn even their main armies don’t train females.” Nesta glared at her mate.

“They do now.” Cassian sighed, not needing to be reminded how long it took to reach this point.

“Ah,” Kai nodded, “you’re here to see if I planned to train the females and to take them with you in your liberation march if I said no.”

“I run an army that trains those other courts reject.”

“So I have heard, an extraordinary feat from an extraordinary woman.” His teeth glittered as he smiled, eyes entirely focused on Nesta. “I know you have your reasons for distrusting my High Lord, but he is trying. Trying to return this court to what it once was. I’m a part of that. Our army will train anyone who wants to fight. And it will protect the human/Fae border.”

Nesta blinked. That was…

“I fought in the war,” Kai nodded to Cassian. “I always admired how you fought at the front of your legions, General. You are the legend everyone claims you to be, but I have to admit…” He turned to face Nesta. “I accepted this meeting so that I could meet you.”

Cassian growled low in his throat. “How does this keep happening?” He muttered under his breath, low enough for Nesta to hear but not Kai. Cassian loved Nesta with his entire being. Heart, body, and soul. The problem was that, apparently, so did every other male in Prythian.

Nesta smirked, subtly reaching her foot out under the table to kick him in the shin for being a possessive brute.

“I met with Eris Vanserra last week. He commands Autumn’s armies.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Cassian said that one loud enough for Nesta and Kai to hear.

“I mentioned I was meeting with you. I knew about your army, of course. But I asked him what to expect meeting you. And instead of answering he told me what you said in the High Lord’s meeting. About humans. I’m pretty sure his point was that I should prepare myself if I was trying to go up against a female who paused seven High Lords in their tracks, but… it is rare to meet a Fae who cares about humans. Truly cares.”

“Well I was one.” Nesta stared forward, unsure where this conversation was going.

“I know. Cauldron born. Phenomenal cosmic powers. Ability to bring us all to our knees if you wanted to. But instead you choose to defend humans and make an army of Fae the courts have cast off.”

“Nes knows how amazing she is,” Cassian cut in. Two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you get to the point please?”

“I want to work with you.” Kai said, point blank, staring at Nesta.

“I bet you do,” Cassian muttered.

“I have my own army, general. I’m not interested in working for anyone else.”

“Not for. With. I want… my forces are beaten down. Their morale is weak. Faith is low. I… you brought the High Lords to heel and you started an army from nothing. I’d like your advice.”

Nesta swallowed. She’d accomplished amazing things. So many amazing things, but still… no one had ever asked her for advice. Help. Expertise. She was the novice. She… he wanted her help.

“My army is from all over Prythian,” Nesta said. “We train in the Night Court because the territory is massive and that’s my home, but… Spring doesn’t have the manpower to protect that border. Convince Tamlin to let me bring in some of my warriors to protect the human border and I’ll help you with whatever you want.”

“Deal,” Kai smiled, reaching out his hand.

Nesta shook it.

Later, after they took off and she was wrapped up in Cassian’s arms as they flew back to Velaris, her mate was stone faced once again.

“I swear to the mother, Nes, if he proposes to you I’m going to make what Feyre did to the Spring Court look like a Sunday walk along the fucking Sidra.”

#nessian #nesta archeron #nessian fanfiction #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

[bookofmirth]

I’m still mad about the time someone called Emerie (a POC, LBGTQ+, and disabled (if you’re counting her wings)) character sexist and misogynistic for saying she was happy to meet another woman who wasn’t obsessed with the idea of children. Like of course Emerie who has only ever been told that she was supposed to be giving men children and not run a shop, is gonna be happy that she has meet another woman with that same life path/mindset.

But what really irked me about that entire situation was that when Mor (a white woman) told Feyre damn near the exact same thing “But at the Hewn City … All they [including the woman too] care about is breeding their bloodlines…” in ACOWAR no one batted an eyelash about it. Which is correct because it’s not a big deal.

Why is it that Emerie was called all these names when Mor said the same thing or alluded to the same thing and get zero flack? If you’re gonna toss words around and pull shit out of your ass to vilify a character, at least hold the standard to all of those with that same mindset.

The fandom has developed this really weird idea of womanhood and femininity in the last several months, and I don't understand it.

There is traditionally feminine labor and that should be valued, but sometimes that labor is forced on women. It's not a choice. White women who are economically privileged get that choice. Others don't, necessarily.

Emerie saying that she's glad to meet someone who isn't obsessed with babies is not a personal attack on women who like babies. She's literally commenting on how stifling her culture can be, how she is surrounded by women with no other choice. And the fact that people take offense to that shows that they assume Emerie has choice. No. She has fought like hell to carve the life she has for herself, and even now those choices were threatened by her cousin, and continue to be threatened by every other Illyrian man who is pissed off that she dare make choices for herself instead of rolling over and spitting out babies for them and doing their laundry.

Being a mother and taking care of the home is important, but women in Illyria and in the Court of Nightmares don't get that choice. They aren't able to embrace that work because it is forced on them.

This is why people who cry feminism in this fandom are frequently outing themselves as white feminists - they look at everything from their perspective, which apparently is a fairly privileged one, and ignore the fact that all of the choices and freedoms they have is the result of their racial or economic or other privilege. They can't even see that, in Prythian, many of the same hierarchies and same social stratifications from our world exist in that world, too.

On top of this, Emerie is queer. On every single level, she rejects what the Illyrian culture asks of her as a woman. And she can't just do that quietly! She can't be queer, and not want children or a husband, or have other interests than serving men, without causing waves. Her mere existence is a threat to the hyper masculine culture of Illyria. She has to fight for her right to exist as she is.

Contrast that with Elain in the Night Court. Right now, she is also rejecting all of those things. She isn't married, she hasn't accepted her mating bond, she doesn't seem like she will have kids any time soon. (Obviously, she might have done all of those things by now if she hadn't been Made.) But who cares? No one. Emerie gets shit for those choices every single day. Meanwhile Elain wanders around her gardens and people just leave her be.

So yes, Emerie rejecting those forms of labor that are traditionally forced on women is important. I don't fault her for rejecting roles that she has witnessed countless women around her suffer for.

#acosf #emerie #acotar fandom #ask #anon #acotar: emerie #elain #acotar: elain

[colorlesschristmastree]

This might be a big ask idk but I reeeeally don’t wanna sit through ACOSF so I was wondering if you could summarize important events that might carry into the next in series? Like any new characters or world building that might pop up in later books? If not, totally understand. If so, you’d be saving me an entire book’s worth of dealing with Nesta. Either way, thank you for your time! Have a great day!! 🖤

I’m going to throw myself off a bridge I spent 30 minutes typing this post only for it to disappear. Anyways i am very angry but i shall RETYPE EVERYTHING FOR YOU ANON SO PLEASE APPRECIATE ME AND BE NICE TO ME. Also this is going to be a long post made for this ask specifically so if you’ve already read acosf no need to read through this.

1) The conflict with the illyrians that was hinted at in acofas was solved off page and is no longer something that you need to be worried about.

2) Acosf takes place around a year and a half after the war, Nesta isnt doing great so shes brought to the house of wind to train.

3) The human queen Briallyn that was turned fae but came out super old and decrepit is plottin. She wants revenge and power and teams up with Koschei, the sibling of the Carver and the Weaver, to get power and her youth back. He’s trapped at his little lake but gives her the brilliant idea of finding the dread trove.

4) We find out that there are other objects that have been made by the cauldron, three of which stand out against all others. The harp, the mask, and the crown. The harp has 26 strings and can open or close any door, physical or otherwise, the strings go from smallest to longest, the longer strings being the most powerful and unpredictable. Ex: u wanna open the front door but don’t wanna get up? Pluck the very first string. You wanna open a portal to the fuckin.. ducktales universe, pluck the 25th string. The 26th can stop time and whatnot. The crown can control minds at a very powerful scale, like rhys looks like a little chicken next to the crown, we don’t see much of it because for the majority of the book it is with Briallyn. The mask can control and summon the dead, I’m not sure if it can be used to speak to ghosts but we know it can raise actual tangible corpses and control them. Nesta is drawn with these three a lot. Oh oh oh and apparently there are 26 worlds for each of the harps strings (unless i just made that up in my head and am imagining things)

It’s believed that there was once a fourth trove disappeared many moons ago.

5) We discover that the powers Nesta stole from the cauldron were death powers. They seem to be capable of a lot of destruction but outside of that I’m unsure of their uses. At the end of the book she makes a bargain with the cauldron and sacrifices those powers to save Feyre.

6) Feysand has a baby, his name is Nyx and he is born with Illyrian wings. His wings almost kill Feyre as for some reason illyrian women have like wider pelvises and Feyre simply did not have that.

7) Nesta and Cassian are mates and everyone is on good terms by the end of the book. Briallyn is defeated and things are goin well. Nesta and Cassian will be permanently living in the house of wind as Rhys gave it to them after Nesta’s magic gave the magic of the house a personality. Like yk how before they could ask for anything and it’s spelled to give it to them? It’s like that but now it has an attitude and personality.

8) Over the course of the book Nesta becomes close friends with two women. Gwyn, and Emerie. Gwyn is a priestess who lives in the library in the mountain. She was originally one of the priestesses that was attacked in ACOMAF by Hybern when they were looking for the feet of the cauldron. Emerie is an illyrian woman whose wings were clipped, she lives in Windhaven and owns her own shop.

9) We learn about the valkyries, which were a group of all female warriors that existed 500 years ago before they all died fighting in the war. Gwyn introduces Nesta to the valkyries and their history and special breathing techniques. Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and many of the other priestesses working in the library train to fight like the valkyries over the course of the book using the written techniques and fighting styles. They successfully revive the group and perform the ribbon ceremony, officially making them valkyries. Nesta leads them and I’d expect to see them in future books.

10) Nesta and her friends are forcibly brought into the blood rite which was rigged by Briallyn to cause problems. This is where Nesta eventually kills her. Gwyn and Emerie won the blood rite, becoming Carynthian, and Nesta becomes Oristian. Carynthian = reached the tippy top. Oristian = made it onto the mountain but not all the way up.

11) Helion has pegasi.. several of them 😌

12) On top of the dread trove, there are two powerful magical swords that were made by the cauldron. Narben and Gwydion. Narbens location is unknown but was believed to have been found by Amarantha and then tossed in the sea when it refused to be wielded by her. Gwydion was the sword of the first high king of prythian. Before there were courts there was a high king, Fionn. He used the sword to free Prythian from monsters called the Daglan that would like hunt and murder and enslave people and were just evil. Gwydion is said to have a twin blade. As of acosf the location of Gwydion is unknown, however more is revealed about it in crescent city. Fionn had like a wife who betrayed him with his general or friend or some shit (i don’t remember) and then dipped out, if you want more about her and him check out the cc3 theories and hosab theories.

13) The harp is found under the prison, it’s resting on an 8 pointed star, which again correlates to CC so I won’t speak on it too much cause i’m unsure what you’ve read. We find out that the prison indeed used to have inhabitants that were betrayed by someone and locked underneath the prison and left to like.. die terribly.

14) It’s looking like Eris is going to be relevant, he appears several times and is currently an ally of the NC. His soldiers were kidnapped by Briallyn and its looking like he has some things to say, specifically in regards to Lucien and Mor. He also has dogs.

15) As a mental health exercise and for training, Cassian takes Nesta to a forge so she can see how swords are made and appreciate the process. The blacksmith gives her a try whacking the hot metal, she thinks very hard during this and spits out some magic into the swords (not literally but yeah). She winds up making the swords into Made objects similar to Narben and Gwydion. One is a long sword, which Nesta names Ataraxia, it’s likely going to be the most relevant. Then one is a dagger and is given to Eris so he shuts his yap, and the other is like a medium sized sword?

Uhmm these are the most important things! But really focus on the stuff related to the dread trove. And just be prepared for fighter Nesta.

If you want to understand the next books you will need to read CC though, unfortunately. I haven’t read the first book since like,, it came out, and i’m barely halfway through the second. I think yaz-the-bookish has made posts talking about them but don’t quote me on that.

If I think of anything more I’ll reblog this post again with additional pieces of info.

If you’d like to hear my complains about acosf and the character development in it as a nesta anti, feel free to send another ask :)

#anti nesta #i’m not actually sure what to tag this but it’s getting anti tags cause i’d rather not tag it nesta and have her stans coming onto my blog #acosf #acosf summary #pro feyre #feyre #feyre archeron #my posts #asks

[devaneiosinfinitos]

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

[queenestarcheron]

acomaf review

so i recently reread acomaf and i made a post about everything that i liked/didn’t like (more of the latter). i also started another one so some of that is repeated in here. i have referenced page numbers but they are all from the uk paperback edition so i don’t think they will be the same for everyone. it’s all chronological. there will probably be typos since i wrote this on a whim pls ignore them. this is quite anti rhys so if that bothers you just ignore this and pls don’t attack me for my opinions.

(pg. 24) feyre says "I don't know if I can handle them calling me High Lady." implying that she doesn't even want to be in a position of power in prythian. is that the trauma talking? tamlin also says that there is no such thing as high lady which makes no sense bc high lord power is hereditary so it should be able to go to women too. also this makes rhys making feyre high lady make no sense.

(pg. 29) poor lucien i cannot believe his brothers did that to his girlfriend

(pg. 48-49) feyre threw a shoe at rhysand and all im saying is that, if nesta threw a shoe at cassian, they would try and flay her alive

(pg. 73) rhys says there can be high ladies... but there never was one?? how does he know they can exist? it doesn't add up. again, if a person could just be given the high lord power, then what is the point of having the high lord bloodline

the 90 pages in between are just feyre getting upset and rhys saving her from the spring court

(pg. 163) i am diSGOSTED "You know I'm always happy to tangle in the sheets with you Amren ... I know how much you enjoy Illyrian-" seriously?? i don't think this is a normal friendship dynamic. also we hear about how dangerous amren is but cassian literally just made this comment and she did nothing. and we dont see her do anything to others at all. the only thing to suggest that she's a powerful being was the end of acowar

(pg. 169) amren calling the illyrians "barbarians" does not sit right with me

(pg. 209) "They might not be happy about it, but I'll make Nesta and Elain do it" you'll make your sisters risk their lives and status? to help the fae? the race that enslaved humans for centuries? okay feyre. everyone's right, youre a great sister

(pg. 215) rhys offers feyre sex with cassian? how are the nesta stans the ones that don't gaf about cassian when his own friend (who he considers a brother) says this about him? i don't think after 500 years of knowing him and liking him nesta would say any of this

(pg. 229) cassian gets mad at rhys for endangering feyre's life for no reason and then rhys says "you would do the same" like nO SIR NO HE WOULDN'T

(pg. 246) feyre says nesta looks older in her eyes. she's obviously been affected by her sister running away with the fae and her and elain even thought she was dead. don't try and tell me that she doesn't care bye

(pg. 255) cassian's dinner table speech about how feyre died for the fae and nesta should stop being a bitch. um, sir your people enslaved hers for CENTURIES? and you want to play the fucking victim? okayyy sure. have fun with that

(pg. 280) rhys doesn't make his people play the tithe but he lets them live in tents in snowy mountains? while he lives in comfort? and im supposed to support this guy? hard pass for me

(pg. 288) rhys stalks about keeping velaris a secret and says "My people do not seem to be suffering much from it." basically ignoring the people in the hewn city and illyria as his people? tehy are all hated by the rest of the courts and apparently rhys is just cool with that bc velaris is fine.

(pg. 326) all i want to say is that cresseida deserves so much better

(pg. 361) okay lol jurian was "obsessive" in his pursuit to free his people. why couldn't he just be chill about it? his people could wait you know. he didn't hav eto go batshit crazy. it's not like they were servants their whole lives and were being treated like they weren't people.

(pg. 377) okay so this is when cassian comes back from giving nesta the letter (wings and ember) and he says something about how the family is full of "bossy, know-it-all females" my mans you invaded HER PERSONAL SPACE and asked her intrusive and inappropriate questions. she literally did what any other woman would have done.

(pg. 386) rhys fully says "neither side is innocent" when talking to the mortal queens BOI THE FAE KEPT THEM AS SLAVES WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND STOP TRYING TO SOUND OPPRESSED OMG

(pg. 393) they are talking about how miryam and drakon fell in love when she was still with jurian and apparently it's jurian's fault bc he was too obsessed with liberating the humans? you can say what you want about them fighting for the humans but it's clear they really don't give a shit

(pg. 398) feyre hears mor's story and says that she understands why rhys can't forgive nesta. she actually just compared what mor's family did (trying to marry off mor and nailing a note to her body and leaving her at the autumn court) to what nesta did (was mean to feyre when their family was in poverty and didn't stop feyre from hunting). chilee wut

(pg. 415) the court of nightmares scene and all i want to say is DID ANYONE IN THE HEWN CITY CONSENT TO SEE THAT. also their high lord using women like objects isn't exactly sending his people the best message, especially the youthful ones. like if their ruler is doing it, then why shouldn't they? rhys is kind of making it worse for women ( at the very least he isn't helping AT ALL)

(pg. 443) mor says that she hates the illyrian mountains and says that they should be "burned to the ground", completely forgetting about all of the people there, the culture and the fact that she has 2 and half illyrian friends

(all of chapter 54) rhys tells us his sad backstory and a bunch of excuses but never apologises for his actions utm. am i supposed to excuse sexual assault because he was emotionally distraught? bc im not going to do that

(pg. 548-553) nesta stands up A LOT for the humans and tries to convince the queens to give them the book. we see a lot of her humanity in this scene. don't tell me she's just a cold bitch please read with your eyes and see for yourself. ALSO THE NESSIAN BIT ON PAGE 553 LETS GOOOO

(pg. 559) feyre talks about how nesta feels everything too much and i just want to ask where this feyre was in acofas when her sister was off in the deep end with her ptsd

(pg. 589) jurian is called a monster for literally no fucking reason omg give my guy a break

(pg. 606) lucien helps elain when she is fae and on the ground soaking wet. this is all before he finds out that she is his mate. this is why we stan <3

please feel free to comment on/challenge anything ive said. you can try and come for my favs if you want but it probably won’t change my mind. i might do acofas later. 

#acomaf #pro nesta archeron #pro nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #anti rhysand #a court of mist and fury #anti ic

[jeannereames]

Do we know/ think that any of Philip's wives were friends with eachother? I understand that they would have been competing with eachother to secure their sons' positions, but it seems odd to live with four or five other women and not have some sort of rapport with any of them

It’s unclear—in large part because the ancient sources simply aren’t concerned with them. In fact, we only know the names of all seven because of a chance list made by Athenaeus [13.557b–e], quoting Satyrus, as two were childless, or at least, their children didn’t survive to adulthood so they’re never mentioned in the main sources.

Probably the best way to guess who might have been friendly, and who at odds, is to consider where each came from originally.

Because Philip married for political reasons, all his wives but the last were not from lower Macedonia, and not all would have spoken Greek, at least not at first. Audata, daughter or more likely granddaughter or grandniece of King Bardylis, was Illyrian. As she was royal, she may have been able to speak some Greek, but likely wasn’t fluent. If she was wife #1 (and I think she was), Philip likely married her when he originally submitted to Bardylis as a client king, after his brother’s death. She was sent to Pella to keep an eye on him. When Philip returned a year later with his army and kicked Illyrian butt, well… she would have ceased to be important, all the more so when she had a daughter, not a son.

Wife #2 was likely Phila, of the royal house of Elimeia, so she was related to Harpalos and that crowd. That’s why Philip married her: to bring in the southern Macedonian highlands and the famous Elimeian cavalry. Elimeia, like Lynkestis, had been independent, their capital of Aiani wealthy, trading with Corinth on the Western side of the Greek mainland. It wasn’t really until Philip’s day that they fell under Macedonian control. It’s possible she had a child, but that child died in infancy or childhood. In Dancing with the Lion, I did give her one (Menelaus who died as a toddler), but that’s fictional based on the likelihood that Philip had more children, but we know only about those who lived. It’s also possible we hear nothing else from Phila because she died in childbirth.

If Phila came to the women’s quarters right after Audata, perhaps when Audata was still her grandfather’s agent, there may have been little love lost between those two. Audata probably lorded it over her, especially if she was also pregnant (and Phila wasn’t). After the Illyrian star fell, it wouldn’t surprise me if Phila returned the favor, especially after Audata’s baby turned out to be a girl. Audata died before Alexander did, probably before he even left for Asia. Her daughter Kynanne later appeared to operate entirely apart from Olympias and Kleopatra (and Thessalonike), and even in opposition to them, to marry her own daughter by Amyntas (Philip’s nephew), Adea Eurydike, to Arrhidaios, and put her on the throne. Given Arrhidaios’s infirmary, no doubt Kynanne knew or assumed her daughter would be the real power.

So those are the first two, although the order isn’t certain. I follow Carney in putting Audata first.

The order of wives 3-5 is also disputed. Olympias is usually called wife #4, bookended by the two Thessalians—Philina and Nikeseipolis—based on Philip’s two campaigns there, and the probable birthdate of Thessalonike, versus Arrhidaios. She’s notably younger. Yet Satyrus’s list puts both women married together as part of Philip’s settlement of Thessaly in 358 after the death of Alexander of Pherae. The story that Philip named Thessalonike for his victory at the Crocus Fields in 353/2 hardly requires him to have married her mother that late. Nor does the fact Arrhidaios was so much older. Nikeseipolis would later die from childbirth complications, so it’s possible she may have had miscarriages before, or a difficult time getting pregnant. We don’t know precisely what killed her, but as her death followed the birth by a couple weeks, it may have been sepsis from an imperfectly delivered placenta.

Ancient sources can’t always be trusted for details, of course, but as each woman was a daughter of powerful families two cities at each other’s throats just then, it makes sense to me if he did marry them at roughly the same time. Because their families were at war, it’s highly unlikely they would have been friendly in the women’s quarters.

That would make Olympias wife #5, so she was probably the youngest. Of the four already present, Phila of Elimeia would have been her most natural ally, if Phila was still alive. Both were highlanders, and Aiani had trade contacts with the Molossai tribe in Dodona/Epiros, as both traded with Corinth. Athens dominated the Aegean sea, but Corinth dominated trade in the Adriatic. When Elimeia was independent, they had diplomatic relations with Epiros.

So of the first five, Audata probably stood alone, although she might have had some protection from Eurydike, who was likely half Illyrian herself. Then Olympias and Phila may have been friendly. Philina and Olympias probably weren’t, given the story about Arrhidaios. Even if Olympias had nothing to do with his condition, Philina may still have believed she did.

There may also have been another reason for bad blood between Olympias and Philina. A late (Roman era) story says that when Philip took Nikeseipolis as a new concubine, supposedly he did so as a result of love magic. Yes, love spells were a thing, and Thessaly was famous for her “witches.” Olympias had the young woman brought to her, and upon seeing and talking to her, she declared there was no witchcraft except the normal sort in her face and figure and comely manner. Interestingly, she doesn’t seem to have been jealous in the story.

There are a boatload of problems with the story, starting with the “concubine” part. (Macedonian royal polygamy confused Greeks, and later Romans.) Also, it would put Nikeseipolis as wife #5, not Olympias. Yet it might contain a hint that Olympias and Nikeseipolis got along. So that might be another reason Philina was no friend of Olympias.

In any case, Nikeseipolis was out of the picture by 353/2, and if she was married in 358, wasn’t there that long. We aren’t told, but it’s certainly possible that Olympias raised Thessalonike. Again, I don’t think Philina would have done so, due to the enmity between her family (Aleuadai) and Nikeseipolis’s, who was likely related to the notorious Jason of Pherae. (And yes, if your eye is sharp, that makes Alexander’s mistress Kampaspe related to Philina!) I find it even less likely that Audata would have raised her. So Phila or Olympias are the best candidates.

I also want to point out that these first 5 women were all married by Philip in his first few years. Again, assuming the earlier date for Nikeseipolis’s wedding. He came to the throne in 360, and Alexander was born in 356. Even if we assume he married Nikeseipolis after Olympias, it would have had to have been by 354. Ergo, there’s not a lot of daylight between weddings.

More than a decade (c. 341) would pass before Philip married again: Princess Meda, daughter of Kothelas, of the Getai, a Thracian tribe. Meda barely gets a mention, is clearly a peace price, and never had any (surviving) children. As the Getai were on the northern and inland side of Thrace, she may not have spoken much Greek. Many royal Thracians were fluent in Greek, but mostly tribes with trading ties to Athens or the Greek cities on the Black Sea coast. We have no idea what happened to her. Some, including Hammond, have argued that’s her buried in the antechamber of Royal Tomb II, based on (some) Scythian customs of wives following their husbands in death. It’s a shaky argument, imo. I don’t want to get into the argument over who is buried in “Philip’s Tomb,” so I’ll just say that, being childless, she likely became a ghost in the women’s quarters. In Dancing with the Lion, I have Myrtale take her under her wing as part of my “Olympias was not a bitch” campaign. 😉

Last, we have Kleopatra Eurydike, and we all know who her enemies were. As for friends? I doubt she had any. The real question is how many of the other six wives were left when she arrived?

Olympias had just fled with Alexander, and Nikeseipolis was dead. We also know Audata died at some point, probably (but not certainly) before Alexander took the throne. If Phila were still alive, as noted, I think she’d have been in Olympias’s camp. Meda is a crap-shoot, but she had little/no power. Philina may well have been ranged against Olympias, so if Kleopatra-E. had any “friend” among the other wives, Philina was most likely. Even so, as she was mother to a son, even if not the heir apparent, which might have made Kleopatra-E. see her as an enemy. Given the importance of her uncle, I doubt Kleopatra-E. believed she needed to make allies in the women’s quarters, which I tried to play on in Rise.

If/when I get around to book 3 in the series, King, you’ll see a lot more dynamics from Kleopatra’s perspective. It wasn’t just Alexander and Hephaistion who had a coming-of-age arc in the first two books. 😊

#asks #Philip of Macedon #Philip of Macedon's wives #Olympias #Audata #Phila #Philina #Nikeseipolis #Meda #Kleopatra Eurydike #Cleopatra Eurydice #Macedonian royal polygamy #royal polygamy #Philip II #Philip II of Macedon #Macedonian politics #royal women's quarters in Macedonia

[ekaterinakostrova]

“I can feel this fear in your blood; hear it in your heartbeat”.

“She had to do something. She did not have gold or lands, or castles, or anything she could offer to him so that she could redeem this poor child. He was just a little boy. There was nothing that she could offer to this man.

The air burned her lungs in these icy mountains. The midday sun glided along the mountain ranges, freezing on the adamantine peaks of the rocky cliffs.

She did not know the true horror and fear before. All the nightmares that appeared to her at night could not be compared with such a horrible reality. The loud, horrific cries of children left to die in the mud in cold ground. Cassian told her once, how his people were dealing with the bastards. Some were thrown alive from the rocks, others were torn to pieces by the creatures living deep in dense forests, and someone were left on the ground without the limbs with blood splashing everywhere.... 

They cut off their fingers, and then chopped off their hands and feet, and then set fire to their wings¸ and the children burned alive in the fire.

In ancient times, the Illyrians chose the most powerful warrior among the clan and called him as their leader. They raised their swords to the glory of their new master, respecting the power of one warrior over their lives and families. Centuries have passed, and one family strengthened its power. It became so powerful that influence of one leader was indissoluble and unshakable. The head of the household was called as the war lord.

One clan absorbed another for the sake of lands, and after for the sake of more selfish reasons - power, influence, strength. Strength was everything for all of the Illyrians – the most solid foundation for achieving greater unity and solidarity among all the clans. Those clans were eager to destroy everybody and everything in its path. The leaders of these clans were hungry snakes, ready to devour their own kind.

She watched Kallon. Kallon with a smile of a jackal on his lips. Watched as this man piercing the boy’s back with a black dagger with a gold hilt. She heard as a cry of pain burned the air. Even cattle were slaughtered with less cruelty. Hot blood spattered his face while his boot rested on the back of the boy. He pressed the child to the ground, stopping him from moving. One man’s hand held tightly to the wing, and the other cut the wing from the back of the child. There was so much blood that the man's dark camisole took on a deep crimson hue.

Nausea came up to her throat. She could barely stand. Her hands were trembling, her knees buckled. She looked at the tent, where all the war lords gathered, but not one of them moved while the warrior’s dagger cut the flesh of the child; not one of them attempted to stop Kallon, whose hands separating the flesh from the bones, the wing from the back. The Lord of the Night Court continued his conversation with the leader of one of the clans.

An emotion of disgust froze on Cassian's face.

He had no right to interfere in the actions of one of the members of the ruling family. Cassian was the General of the Night Court, but for the ruling leaders of the Illyrian clans, he remained a bastard.

The fruit of sin.

The spawn.

She felt the tension rise immediately.

Women took their children to the tents. The soldiers silently watching the execution. Nesta was deafened by a terrible, exhausted scream.

Her legs moved instinctively. It was one those moments, when the body moves by itself in order to survive on the battlefield. And for her, Kallon became that rattlesnake. And she was going to chop off its head.

She attacked him with a cry, throwing him aside with the weight of her body. She knew the reason of this bloody scene. All of this was for Cassian. Cassian, who was an insignificant bastard. Cassian, who was the right hand of the Lord of the Night Court. Cassian, who was one of Illyria's most powerful warriors in the history. Cassian, who was a miserable bastard unworthy of life.

“I'll kill you!”

She screamed, tearing apart his leather uniforms with her strong, immortal fingers, ripping apart golden chains and sapphire stones decorating his expensive clothes. She tore the skin on her knuckles and her pale hands were in his dirty blood. She repeatedly punched the beautiful shape of his nose and strong jaw. And for the first time after her rebirth, she was grateful for the strength of her new body.

Excitement seethed and smoldered in her veins as she was tearing the skin on his chest with her fingernails, trying to reach his ribs and then rip out his poisoned heart. His hot blood coated her hands.

“Take this viper away from me!”

Several men grabbed her by the shoulders, and while she was trying to fend off their strong hands, she broke the jaw of one of them.

“Crap!” - Kallon hissed, spitting hot blood on the ground. “Bastard’s whore!”

Her mind was flooded with anger and pure rage. The flames raced through her body. She could not think, when she cried out words that pierced the air, like lightning.

“Duel,” - she screamed, trying to break free from the grip of the Illyrian warriors. “I demand a duel with the noble as the winner of the Blood Rite!”

His mouth curved, as if she'd said something funny. Kallon began to laugh hysterically. His smile bore a hint of mockery. And then again she saw that sparkle in his eyes. She had already seen this dark gleam in his eyes, when he first saw her with Cassian.

“Whore! You think that if you came out of the Blood Rite alive, you have the right to speak with me as an equal. Apparently your master did not teach how to keep your mouth shut in bed.

The wind stopped. Even the clouds seemed to freeze.

His tone a blade that whispered warning.

“Even if the elders give you a permission to fight with me, I have the right to reject the fight. After all, what will I get in return after accepting your challenge? You know the rules that both opponents have to offer something to the rival”.

She refused to look away. Death whispered in her ear.

“The life of this child, I want your warriors and your people! You will let them go. That is what I want and that is what I’m going to take from you.”

And when Kallon walked to stand less than a foot from her.

Nesta's instincts were screaming at her to grab the knife in her boot, but she forced herself to stay in place. She wouldn't crawl, not for anyone. 

Kallon's face changed, he came closer to her while his warriors held her hands, and then bowed her to the ground, until she was kneeled before him.

“My clan, my people, my lands. And what are you going to offer in return? You have nothing. You might be a nice plaything for one night, but I won't bargain with you for my entire clan if it’s all what you can offer.”

He took her chin between his fingers. Cold knuckles running along her skin. She met his eyes, forced herself to hold her ground.

“Who told you that you have the right to be here and speak? Who told you that you have the right to look into my eyes? You walk among us, eat among us, sleep in our tents. We let the witch to walk among us, made her one of us,” he shouted to the crowd gathered around them.

“It is precisely because of such a vicious leader as the current High Lord of the Night Court. We allow strangers to dictate their rules into our lands. We allowed the bastard to become the General that leads our warriors on the battlefield. So many women and daughters are left alone. We are the greatest army, which is ready to establish its own rules on the lands of Prythian. Illyrians paid its debt to the Night Court from the day when the first clan led by Enalius set foot on this land. These lands, these mountains, these forests belong to Illyria. We spilled enough blood for the Night Court and its ruthless leaders!

Nesta lowered her head and said calmly.

“You are afraid of me”.

The men's hands stilled on her shoulders, she felt their eyes focused on Kallon.

“I can feel this fear in your blood; hear it in your heartbeat”.

Open interest showed on his face.

“A poisonous viper, I had to chop off your head before you stepped on the lands of my clan before you open your filthy mouth.”

“That's right,” she admitted, giving him a teasing grin. She tried to piss him off; she knew too well, how to get a rise out of him. “But the head of the viper spits poison even after it is chopped off.”

He stared at her back.

“She has the right to fight as a winner,” Devlon announced loudly, arms crossed over his strong chest.

Nesta did not dare to turn around. She only felt his eyes on her back. Cassian.

Kallon grinned viciously, and Devlon continued.

“If you think that this girl needs to be taught a lesson, then teach her properly. Show her then. Show everyone, what we should do with those, who dictate their rules to us”.

His eyes narrowed. 

“This snake has nothing to offer me in return.”

Kallon turned around on the heels of his shiny, leather boots. These boots were soaked in the blood of a child, still trembling on the cold ground. His moans still echoing in her ears, still burning the air.

Nesta swallowed.

“I have something to offer you. And my offer will be the most profitable in your life! You have been expecting such an offer for so many decades. You will have a chance to revenge.”

Kallon turned around.

“And what are you ready to offer me?”

“Myself”.

He laughed, the sound full of dark, and then he took a deep breath.

“What for?”

She hissed, rising from her knees, despite the hands holding her.

“I am the one, who took the King’s life. I am the one, who survived in the ageless darkness and the one, who swallowed the darkness of the Cauldron, took it into my veins, into my blood. Steel became my body, and flame became my blood. To own me means to own the world”.

He grinned. His eyes gleamed, but all he said was:

“I don't need Cassian's whore.”

She had to make a decision. She would not have a second chance.

“I'm not his whore,” she shouted. “I'm his mate!”

Kallon’s expression held pure shock. His eyes froze on her face, in the depth of the seething rage of her silver-blue eyes. A wave of whispers swept along the ranks of the Illyrians.

“Such an appropriate lie,” he finally whispered.

“You don't believe me, then, ask the Morrigan.”

She lifted her face to feel the full onslaught of the wind. It felt good on her skin. The sensation made her feel brave, fearless, and she has nothing left to lose by releasing this, by revealing the truth. 

Nesta took more air into her lungs before screaming:

“Tell them Morrigan! Tell them all the truth! You are the one, who tells the truth and nothing but the truth. Tell them what you see! Tell them all, what kind of beast I am! Let them all see, who I am!”

She could imagine it. She could imagine the emotion of horror on Morrrigan's face.

Then she heard the thunderous approach of his steps, the heat of his strength, burning the air around. Her breath caught in her throat. Kallon cast a glance at Cassian approaching them, saw something in his eyes. His own eyes light up.

The men removed their hands from her shoulders: they were a shackle around her upper arms, when they saw the promise of death in the eyes of the General of the Night Court.

She fought the urge to turn around. She fought the urge to see his face.

“You have to decide faster, Kallon,” she whispered, not looking back at Cassian. She could smell him; hear the beat of his heart.

Kallon looked into the eyes of the General of the Night Court, saw something on his face. And that was the moment, when he believed her. His lips curved upward in a feral smile, when he said:

“I accept your offer, Nesta Archeron”.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #postacofas #acotar

[bookocd]

A Court of Pain and Dreams

I started to write this before A Court of Wings and Ruin came out, so this has been in the works for a long time. I just started writing again and I’m so excited to get back to this fanfic and kind of start over!

This is a multi-part fanfic which is taking place after the war with Hybern. 

I hope you all like it :)

PART 1:

Light shined through the open window as the wind blew the thin curtains to the side. The beam of sunlight shown right into his eyes and forced him, very reluctantly, to wake up. Eyes opening, he noticed he wasn’t in his own room, but a room that was much more feminine. Rubbing his throbbing head, he looked the right of his own naked body, and saw a girl wrapped up in the sheets next to him. Suddenly a couple of memories from last night came crawling back, and he groaned at the thought that he allowed himself to get completely smashed. 

Feeling terrible that he couldn’t even remember the female’s name, he slowly rose up from the mystery bed and started to realize the time. The sun was probably about half way up in the sky, which made it past sunrise and past the time he was supposed to meet with his parents. 

“Shit!” While jumping up from his position and searching for his clothes urgently, the girl finally woke herself. 

She started to outstretch her arms to wake herself up further, and he finally got a good look at the girl her had spent the night with. She had the pointed ears of a High Fae, golden blond hair, and had makeup smudged around her dark brown eyes. 

With a sleepy smile on her face and clutching the sheets to her chest she sleepily cooed, “Hey you.” She obviously remembered more than he did. 

Cringing as he faced away from her and reaching for his pants, he got out a very awkward sounding, “Hey…” 

Finally finding his shoes, he sat back on the bed and started pulling them on one by one and then tying the laces. Feeling hands on his shoulders, he looks back at the girl, who was now on her knee’s pressed up against his bare back. Bare because he couldn’t find his shirt. 

“Where do you think you are going?” The girl whispered in his ear. He usually didn’t sleep with random people, but the enormity of the day had him drinking more than normal. How did Flynn let him go home with someone? He reminded himself to kill his cousin later.  

His thoughts of all the different ways to make Flynn’s life hell was halted when the girl licked and bit at his ear. She started to slip a hand down his front almost making it to the front of his pants, he grabbed her hand to stop the progression. 

He got up from where he was sitting to gain some space from the girl who clearly wanted to recreate what he had assumed happened last night. Turning back toward her disappointed face he tried to apologize. “Look I’m sorry…”

Her disappointment turned to anger quickly when she realized that he didn’t remember her name. She said, “Mae” in a clipped tone. 

Even after she said it, the name still didn’t ring a bell and without thinking the replied, “Are you sure?” 

Her anger turned to fury and she started to frantically look around. Deciding to forget his shirt, he turned for the window. He didn’t need to read Mae’s mind to know she was looking for something hard to throw at him. 

“Well it was really great meeting you Mae and I wish I could stick around, but I’m very late.” With the short comment he climbed onto the window sill and looked out into the morning sky. 

Needing the fresh air, and needing to get out of here, he jumped and started to free fall. 

Hearing a scream from above, he turned in the air to look back at the scared face of the girl he apparently spent his night with. A smirk came to his face when he finally uncovered his Illyrian wings and watched as the women’s shocked face turn to anger once more.

He always seemed to have a way of making women angry. His father had always said that it was because, they were too beautiful for certain brains to comprehend. After that comment his mother promptly smacked him in the head and said it was because of the stupid smirk they both shared. 

My parents are going to be so mad at me, he thought to himself as he flew through the sky. Usually he would take a second to take in his surroundings, to enjoy to the feel of the wind, and to think about how in the grand scheme of things he was just a small part of the world. These types of thought were what kept him, and his immense power, in check. Today he had no time for these thoughts, or even for enjoying the view of Velaris below him. 

Finally, the House of Wind came into view, and on the balcony a figure was leaning against the railing. 

Landing with a small thud, he looked up at his companion that had the largest grin on his face. The male had two large wings tucked in tight behind his back, and the rest of his body was just muscle. He was handsome, in a rugged and mysterious kind of way. With curly brown hair and sharp cheek bones, he was the focus of any woman or man that walked into a room he occupied. He poured out confidence and control that people much older than him were still fighting to achieve. The Illyrian brought his hands together and started to slowly clap, with tanned and scared hands. 

A growl came from his mouth as he grounded out, “You bastard. How did you let me go home with someone last night?”

The grin intensified at the question as he responded, “You aren’t just late dude, you are 3 hours late.” 

“Oh shut up Flynn. I’m sure you only got here a little before I did.” He assumed this because one of the few memories of the night before was Flynn flirting with a red-headed female. 

Flynn put a hand to his chest, as if he had been hit. “That hurt friend. To just make you feel worse about yourself I’m going to tell you something. I was here on time, and guess who else was on time for the first time in years.” 

Cringing, the very late male knew the answer, but didn’t want to say it out loud, so he let his friend take his silence as an invitation to reply to his own question.

Flynn was all too happy to answer. “Fucking Cassian beat you here, you lazy ass.” 

A deep laugh erupted to the males right. When they both saw a large hazel eyed male, with muscles that would make any male cower, but they saw the amusement in his eyes. Going toward Flynn and wrapping his arm around around his neck and ruffling his dark hair with a free hand, he looked all too happy that someone came late. 

“I see that you found our straggler. Good work son.” 

Seeing the two next to each other in such a way, with large smiles on their faces, anyone could tell they were father and son. The only difference between the two, were the eyes. Flynn had been blessed with Nesta’s gray blue eyes. They were striking, and if someone didn’t see the muscles first, they saw the eyes. 

“Why are you loitering outside. I know many people, in the house that are waiting to see a certain someone.” Cassian looked to the late male with a vicious smirk on his face, like he had been patiently waiting for a rabbit to go into the lion’s den. 

Laughing to themselves, the father and son turned to walk into the house, and silently the other male watched. He knew there would be no moments between him and his father today, that would even resemble Flynn and Cassian. 

Not realizing how long he had been nervously standing there, he noticed that both of the men had turned around and were giving him a strange look. 

Cassian was the one who said something, “Don’t look so scared. You might as well just get it over with. Trust me your father couldn’t stay mad at you if he tried.” 

Noticing how truly nervous his friend was, Flynn detached from his father and turned completely toward his best friend. “Come on Cal. It’s just your father.”

Just my father, Cal thought about the comment in his head, and he concluded that no one had ever said that his father was just anything.

Flynn turned with his father, and they both disappeared inside.

Giving himself a pep talk and starting to walk, Callum went slowly inside to incur the wrath of his parents, or in other words the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

#a court of wings and ruin #sarah j maas #throne of glass #feyre x rhysand #high lord rhysand #nesta and cassian

[herpowerisdeath]

Affected { Nessian Fanfic }

Summary: Nesta decided that the time for her to learn how to defend herself has come and passed, but Feyre seems restless in her “invitations”, so, one day, just to shut her youngest sister's mouth, she agrees.

This history is part of “The Blue-gray Fire”. Check for other works here.

Check here for more ACOTAR fanfics. 

I.

The mirror’s reflection would make her shudder, if she was willing to show any body reaction.

Nesta was using pants for the first time in her life -- dark, tight and reinforced on the knees with leather. It was Feyre’s, of course. Her sister had borrowed her a pair of training clothes almost two weeks ago, after their last arguing about how Nesta was dealing with her own abilities after the war.

“I said no.” Nesta’s voice was like a whip, cutting its way thru the air around them.

“I heard you from the first time, and the second, and the th--.” Feyre answered, just one step behind, keeping Nesta from avoiding it again.

“Stop following me like a starved dog.” She hissed, trying hard to not increase the rhythm of her steps.

“Then give me a good reason.” The youngest fae raised her index finger, going around Nesta to stop her. “One, and I’ll never ask again.”

Feyre’s eyes were burning with the untamed dare. The same eyes as her own, the same eyes as their mother. She knew that her own eyes were pale blue flames now, her heart racing with the challenge. And then, just as a cold winter wind, it was all wiped away, the warm emotions living her core, her critical and rational mind taking over.

She turned to the other side, dismissing Feyre completely, and restarted walking.

“Tell me when you quit hiding.” 

And that was it, that single line made her column straightened, her nails digging into her palms with strength enough to hurt as she stormed in the direction of her room.

Nesta blinked, trying to get used with the reflection, with the feeling of the tissue touching her legs. Should it look like this? 

The only women she saw dressing it were Feyre, Morrigan and Amren and the illyrian outfits had looked different in any of them. Feyre’s was tight, but not much, Morrigan’s was like a second skin, much like the boys’, Amren looked like a child’s suit, which she supposed it was, even if no one mentioned.

Feyre’s clothes were a little big on her body, she decided after a detailed examination. Her slim legs didn’t have muscles enough to stretch the material, but at least they were the same waist and hip size.

Nesta rolled up the sleeves of the matching shirt, folding them past her elbows. The tissue was slightly transparent, just enough to give a light sensation and allow her skin to breathe under it. You will be sweating like a farm worker, her mind remembered with a disgusted noise.

And, if she stayed one minute more standing there, she would have done a great job in convincing herself to dismiss Feyre entirely. But she wasn’t hiding, she would never hide again from her sisters, not when they needed something, not when they wanted something. Never again.

II.

Nesta has always been silent, a whisper of steel and flame, contained, controlled, and her steps matched it. The fae grace had shaped her walking in something barely audible, unless she wanted to be heard -- which was definitely not the case.

It wasn’t hard to find the right spot, the sound of laughs reached her down stairs and ended before she finished going up. Small crashing sounds followed and she hurried just a little, without even notice the worry running in her veins.

Feyre’s back was turned to her, her once skinny body now detailed with slim muscles. She saw her sister’s hair braided tight, flying as she threw a sequence of punches -- right in Cassian’s covered hands. 

Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? The first thought in Nesta’s mind revealed how much she had absorbed in a few seconds. His long hair was wrapped with his usual strand of leather, or most of it -- a few threads had escaped and now clinged to his sweat-damp face. His controlled breath smashed into her as a wave, his heartbeat overloading her fae hearing. The lines of sweat that started at his neck followed a path down the dark hair on his chest, lower and lower until the waistband of his training  trousers.

Immediately, she stopped her gaze, a stone-cold mask taking over her features. After the battle with Hybern, she has been… How could she say? Sensitive, yes, sensitive to his presence, which, of course, bothers her to no end.

“What the hell, Feyre?!” Cassian complained, recoiling his hands, surprised with the sudden punch.

A tug in her lips threatened to form a smirk when she noticed that he had been distracted by her presence alone. Feyre turned, following Cassian’s forceful gaze. The smile in the other’s face was brighter than the golden light of the sun, casting its warmth in the roof, when she spotted Nesta.

Feyre moved forward, for sure to include Nesta right away in whatever she was doing, but the elder sister rose a polite hand to stop her. 

“I’ll observe for a while.” Showing certain in each step, she found her way to a long chair, propping her elbows in her knees to give Feyre - and Cassian - her full attention. 

She thought she saw her sister giving little excited jumps in her way back.

III.

Even if she wouldn’t admit, she enjoyed her accurate senses and was glad, at some point, for being able to see all their quick movements, catch the glimpses of change,  watch the light dancing in their wings when Cassian tried over and over to explain how the balance of Feyre’s body should be changed to use the wings in their full strength and power.

Feyre was positively terrible. She kept committing the same mistakes and her left wing could do everything faster than her right wing. 

It was beautiful, though, and it suited her well. Feyre has never been a creature of small vision, her dreams were higher than Nesta’s, she has known it since the day Feyre painted the night sky. One day she would fly thru it -- except  that it would be figuratively and not with real wings.

Her sister spreaded her dark wings, mimicking Cassian’s moves. He folded one wing as he punched forward, using the move to push him stronger. He did it with ease, repeating with the other side of his body to show himself, apparently. 

Nesta shifted, rolling her eyes, but keeping herself silent. She was trying to show some sort of approval, trust or whatever in Feyre’s abilities, she was trying to look like she believed wholly in the potential of her little sister. 

When Feyre fell face first, she was also trying to avoid the amusement in her eyes.

“Shit.” Feyre complained, rubbing her sore nose, following to rub her forehead.

Cassian’s laughter was still echoing when he offered a hand to help her out. 

“I think it’s enough of punching while having wings for today, I don’t want Az complaining that I’m stealing his job. Or Rhys complaining that I’m ruining his nights because you’re sore all over.” A sensual smirk appeared in Cassian’s lips and she watched her sister punch his arm, tired. He pretended it hurt anyways.

“Nesta could join us for the last part, I think.” Feyre suggested, her eyes big with the request.

“Yeah, Ness, unless you’re enjoying the view too much.” To prove his point, all the muscles in Cassian’s abdomen contracted, showing with more details his heavy worked out body, only cut by his war scars.

She snorted, raising to her feet and walking past him to stand next to Feyre. If the fae was willing to acknowledge, she would notice the change in her breathing, but she stood with an unbothered calm even while his eyes drank the view of her in those tight clothes.

Feyre’s eyebrows got up twice before Cassian retrieved the ability of speaking properly.

“10 push-ups, let’s see if you can lift anything heavier than a shoe.” 

He was staring right into her eyes when he said it, the muscles in his body shifting not with a rational command, but in response to the rage she now showed in her blue-gray eyes. He didn’t get to give her orders like this, who the hell he thinks --

“C’mon, Nesta. I’ll show you how.” Her sister’s hand was in hers after that, keeping her from bark an answer.

She followed Feyre’s lead, placing her arms in the right position and thanking for the leather reinforcing the tissue covering her knees. The first push-up had her going too low, and her flat belly almost touched the floor.

“Not so low.” Feyre whispered, already up again, with her arms straight.

Nesta had to reunite a great amount of force of will to raise her body, and then, down again. She could feel the pressure inside her ears as she forced herself up. Her arms started to tremble in the third push-up.

“You need to contract your core muscles or you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Cassian’s voice sounded very close to her. She could see his booted feet in her line of vision.

If she wasn’t so focused in not to fall, she would have grunted. But she did as she was told anyway, she was goddamn here already. 

Nesta was trying to contract everything, from her neck to her thighs. 

“Breath. In when you’re going up, out when you’re going down.”

How he even knew that she was running out of breath? Her focus had been completely in the strength.

When the eighth push-up came, she decided that it was a terrible idea. The war was over, they won, she had no reason to be here, sweating for nothing. But then she recalled how the things happened, how different it could have been if she mastered her powers, if she knew how to use the right weapons.

It made her go up again, exhaling the air so hard that it made a noise. She dared to look a little to her side as she lowered, very tempted to rest her head in the cold floor. Feyre was waiting for her, holding herself down in the way Nesta should be doing, the right way. Her sister's smile was still there, almost nudging her to the last push-up.

You’re not some weak lady, Nesta. Up, now! The order she gave  herself made her seem ridiculous, but at least her arms brought her up again, trembling terribly, almost giving up.

When she lowered herself, half falling in the floor, her decorum was gone. She rested her face for one entire minute in the cold rock of the floor before caring with anyone else. Her arms were aching and she could swear some weird substance was running in her veins, making her feel some sort of well even with the pain.

The next things were easier, or her body was now heated enough to not feel like one step from dying all the time. She discovered that she could run for a small period and she was good at stretching. In anything else, pretty much a disaster.

When the ‘last part’, as Feyre called, ended, her shirt was clinging to the sweat in her skin and she was thankful for wearing a bra. To her relief, Feyre looked just as wrecked. She wouldn’t give a single thought to the fact that Cassian still looked marvelous.

“Tomorrow, right after Feyre’s training. You better bring a towel, sweetheart.” His voice came from deep in his chest.

IV.

In the next day, Nesta was nowhere to be seen in the town house. She had spent the whole night mind-complaining about the soreness in her limbs. 

Amren’s place sounded like a great choice and she was already there right after breakfast, bringing the books and notes she had been reading. Never existed, in the long history of the fae world, someone like Amren, so they had been searching for similarities, anything to help in the discovery of which powers and tricks the older creature possessed.

It was also a good thing for her own. 

So far, Nesta had learned little about what she stole from the Cauldron, but she had finally being able to see her own mental shields in its complexity. They were not dark and hideous as she feared they would be; indeed, Nesta’s mental shields were made of steel, no a solid mass, but huge pieces of silvery steel, connected by rivers of white light, the same light that had appeared when they faced the king.

She was also able to create fire, a blue-ish flame, different of her sister’s and Beron’s own flames. It could burn all the same, though no smoke came from it and the touch was as freezing as death. She thought that she maybe would be strong enough to winnow, but wasn’t exactly eager to start a new potential failure.

They searched in the books all day, with many pauses to eat and to train their mental shields. Amren wasn’t solid, but a silver-grey smoke that repelled any of Nesta’s tries.

When she was mentally exhausted enough - and before Amren could decide to throw her out of the loft - she found her way to the town house, where a small bottle and a note were waiting for her in her bedroom's door.

“I should have known you would be sore, drink up, I’m flying you at 10am tomorrow.

Cassian.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the sloppy handwriting, but she drank it without a second thought.

V.

Whatever that drink was, it made all her limbs relax, even the tension in her back softened until she could barely feel it anymore. She slept a remarkably wonderful, dreamless sleep and only came back to consciousness when the warm sunlight touched her face.

She mumbled, too relaxed to think straight, turning to the other side to avoid the clarity.

The sheets’ touch in her skin and the comfy pillow almost dragged right back to that nice place in her mind, almost. 

Some rational, annoying part of Nesta’s mind noticed that the sunlight wasn’t supposed to reach her bed in the early hours of morning and that was the reason why her curtains were always open -- by the time the sun started to cast its light inside, she would be completely awake and doing something useful with her morning.

One of her eyes opened - the one which wasn’t buried in the pillow - and she needed a minute to absorb the brightness, the golden glow turning her clear walls in pure light.

It took about five minutes after that to have her leaving her room, right to the kitchen. She had showered as quickly as possible, dressed in the new training clothes that Nuala or Cerridwen or both had brought her, and wrapped her hair in a very messy bun. She hated to be late and hated even more to do things in a rush, not to have time to prepare herself for the next events, to raise her walls to endure the day.

One of the wraiths, Nesta guessed it was Cerridwen for the way she held the plates, had already settled a few breakfast options and the blonde sat graciously.

She choose three blueberry cupcakes and some juice she didn’t know. Apparently, there were many things in the food department that she didn’t know.

“Can I fix your hair while you eat, my lady?” The maid’s voice was a whisper of darkness, quiet and charming. 

“Yes, I would like to.” Nesta answered after swallowing a piece of her cupcake. 

One day, she would thank the maid for it, for the help. She was working on it, because, according to Elain, it was important to be thankful and Nesta was trying to be better to her sisters, or the best she could be considering her personality.

Training for Feyre, thanks for Elain. She repeated in her mind. Learn about faes to help Amren. She remembered to add, because she had connected with Amren somehow.

Nesta was finishing her second cupcake when she heard the known sound of wings cutting the air, followed by a low noise when they landed in the front porch. 

Something eased in her insides, maybe part of her expected that he wouldn’t show up, that she would dress those stupid pants and let Cerridwen wrap her hair for nothing. And, maybe, the other part felt like an elastic loosing, as if some invisible thread had curled inside all of her muscles and been kept taut from yesterday until now.

Feyre strode inside, her hair a complete mess after training and flying and she sat down in front of Nesta with the same lack as finesse as always. It was involuntary to look for wounds, her eyes scanning her sister’s body in a quick inspection.

“I like your new training clothes.” Feyre offered, finding a glass to fill with juice.

Nesta nodded, it hasn’t been her choice, but she supposed it fit better than Feyre’s borrowed one. Slowly, her hand pushed her own plate in Feyre’s direction, so she could have the last cupcake -- her sister always liked blueberries.

After, Nesta grabbed the towel Cerridwen had left waiting for her and walked to the living room.

The sensation of him came before his form appeared, a weird lightness, as if something wasn’t heavier anymore, as if her own body was nothing more than an extension of something. 

He turned to her in the precise moment she stepped in, his bourbon eyes finding hers and she ignored how her lungs found hard to maintain a rhythm. Cassian was finally wearing a shirt, a sleeveless brown shirt, followed by a pair of loose clear pants. They were covered in dirt already, probably courtesy of her sister. 

His feet were bare and there was something about the vulnerability of it, about the unshielded position he stood. He wasn’t ready to a fight, as he always looked to be before, he was… Exposed.

Nesta’s eyes finally met his again and what she saw made every part of her go taut and loose at the same time. His pupils were so blown that they devoured his irises, his mouth was parted and a ragged breath was literally audible. She became extremely aware that he wasn’t looking to her eyes, at least, not only to her eyes. 

His gaze travelled up and down her body, each curve, each exposed part of pale skin and it made her more self-conscious than she thought was possible and it burned. Every spot his eyes landed burned with an urge that she never understood.

The training clothes she was using revealed more than any other thing she dressed in her life -- a pair of elastic pants, high on her waist and down to her calves and a tank top which gave much more support to her breasts. They were some color between night blue and purple, a color she has never seen in a tissue out of Prytian. She hadn’t imagined that it wouldn't be adequate, Feyre had used many similar clothes, but now…

She covered the part of her belly exposed between the tank top and the pants, not more than three fingers uncovered and it made Cassian regain some sanity again. His hands were still in his sides, clenching and unclenching as if they were too far from her body. It made Nesta’s own hands feel empty, even holding the towel. 

“You --” He started, the voice too rough, stuck in his throat. Cassian coughed once. “I’m gonna take you to train.” 

Nesta nodded, controlling with an iron hand her own breathing, not willing to even acknowledge the blush creeping to her face and neck, the heat pushing under her skin. Gripping the towel tight, she headed to the door, his steps following her close.

VI.

Luckily, she had years and years to master her self-control and even after more than one hour of intense practice, the parts of her body he touched were still over-sensitive, and he had been very careful to keep her close to his body while flying, to make sure to protect her from the cold wind, of course.

“I’m gonna touch you.” His voice came from her back and Nesta’s sweaty body trembled. 

Because of the effort. She immediately explained to herself mentally.

They were trying some experimental defense moves, more like how she should stand and where to put more weight. At least she was doing something calm after the running, the push-ups, the abs working, the squats and lunges and whatever those things were called.

His warmth was already too much before he even reached for her, but when his arm curled around her waist, his hand spreaded over her belly, her rational thoughts left her at once, his fingertips touching the both parts of her clothes and all the bare skin in the middle. It was intimate, far more intimate than see him half naked, far more overwhelming.

She became so still that even the up and down of her chest created too much movement. 

Cassian moved slowly, his body inches apart of her, his hand the only point of contact when he leaned in to talk to her. 

“Let’s try some punches, you need to focus the tension right here.” She had never heard his commander's voice from close, but she guessed that was it, the voice he was using with her right now, what was keeping him from echoing the throaty sound he let scape in the town house.

“How?” Nesta asked quickly, not daring to say too much.

But why was she bothering? She shouldn’t be affected for it, for him, no, not at all. Sensitive, yes, but affected? A wave of coldness tried to push the warm feeling away, her mind starting to work thru all this, thru her momentary lack of control.

If he felt it or not, she couldn’t be sure, but Cassian’s fingers digged into her bare skin just a little bit, calling her attention again, keeping it in the moment and not in the many reasons she could find -- that she would find -- to keep herself in a safe zone. 

“Choose a target point and contract your core, feel your muscles working together.” 

She did, trying to keep her breath steady, to focus in her muscles. Paying attention to her own body in that way wasn’t an easy task, Nesta was already too used to her known masks and postures. This was way too new.

“Now, punch.” He commanded, sure of his own body and voice. 

Her right arm followed his command without hesitation, feeling the stretch in her forearm, the clench of her fist. 

He moved, slowly guiding himself to her left side, his other hand finding place in her back. 

“Let the air leave your lungs when you punch, keep your balance. Again.”

Nesta did it many times more, throwing her fist in front, her spine steady by his hands, the sweet pressure Cassian kept when she should contract her muscles and the small release he allowed when she should breath in. Her mind counted twenty repetitions before he moved to her other side, his hands following around her waist without retreat one single inch. 

“Your left side now.” 

It took twenty more for his hands to leave her. 

Cassian walked away only three steps, standing in front of her to offer a real target, his hands up for her to punch as much as she wanted, but his face called her attention immediately and she couldn’t decide what burned more -- his sure hands touching her body or his lustful eyes freeing her mind. 

And Nesta caught herself wondering, hours after he flew them back to the town house, if his mouth would burn the most. 

#cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #feyre cursebreaker #nessian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nessian fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #the blue-gray fire

[longsightmyth]

Can you list more terrible things about acofas, I’m living for this

“oh mY GOD. Please do more salty acofas spoiler posts… they legit give me life”

“Anymore acofas cringe? This sounds like an extremely weird fanfic where Elain and Nesta are the only ones who are rational and in character.”

Look y’all want cringe I guess but most of it is exactly the cringe present in all of the other books. The Illyrians are somehow both uncomfortably scottish and uncomfortably PoC at the same time while being the barbarians that practice the equivalent of female genital mutilation (don’t come at me for this, the number of times Illyrian dudes’ wings are wink and nudge used euphemistically for penises (because nobody in these books can use the word penis) equates them directly to sex, no matter how much sense that makes, and therefore the clipping of ‘females’ wings is SO BAD). Cassian and Rhys mandate that all the Illyrian women (sorry, females) have to learn how to fight, I guess on the assumption that they all want to learn how to fight (even though later they are seen ‘practicing sullenly’). 

Solstice is VERY christmas-y, which isn’t bad in and of itself but there are literal giant piles of presents for everyone but Nesta, who only gets one from Elaine, which is fine, I guess, except that Feyre literally extorted her into attending so you’d think some effort would have been made for a chick who Feyre even admits is probably suffering PTSD. 

Tamlin gets to love alone in his ramshackle, falling-apart manor that now has a name (Rosehall, if you were interested). Lucien occasionally visits. Rhys shows up and scolds him for not treating Feyre right a couple of times, which I personally feel is rich coming from a man (sorry, MALE) who twisted her broken clean-through-skin bone to get her to agree to do something he wanted, but whatevs.

Apparently there’s like three priestesses left? Still no word on their actual function in society, since they either don’t show up for winter solstice or were at a religious ceremony our Ruling Heroes couldn’t be bothered to attend or even really mention.

I lied, Cassian actually did get Nesta a gift. He gets incredibly angry when she doesn’t accept it and doesn’t want him to walk her home. He throws the gift in the river and follows her home anyway.

Azriel’s sainted but unnamed mother was a servant girl, apparently. No word on her fate. He’s Sensitive about people treating women like servants. Sometimes. It comes and goes.

#myth reads a court of frost and starlight

[queen-archeron]

Haunted

Tagging: @lady-therion @eternally-reading @the-bookish-soul

Edited by @aelin-and-feyre ❤︎

Cassian woke up covered in sweat. He gripped the sheets of his bed with shaking hands, and tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. Nevertheless, he continued to tremble. It was not the first night he had experienced the nightmare. It wasn’t even the tenth night—he had stopped keeping track after twenty.

Every time, he woke up, heart racing and body quaking. He could hear the screams, see the blood. He could see the sky full of his soldiers, his friends, turn to ash in less than a second. Nesta’s screams were still echoing in his mind as Cassian carefully slid out of his bed.

Nesta. She has been avoiding him since that day on the battlefield, the day he’d thought would be his last. She hasn’t made any effort to see him or speak with him, practically ignoring his existence. But maybe she wasn’t the only one to blame for that.

Cassian has been just as bad since she dismissed herself from his life. He saw her when he trained with Feyre, of course, but has never acknowledged her, never wasted his time hoping that maybe she would finally talk to him that day. No, Cassian has given up hoping—waiting for Nesta Archeron.

He quickly slipped on a pair of loose pants, not bothering with a shirt, and flew out of his townhouse in the center of Velaris. His healing wings strained against the light breeze as he flapped them, and he grit his teeth as if the gesture would alleviate the pain. The House of Wind came into view, and he stilled his wings, gliding to the nearest balcony.

The sun was slowly rising above the horizon, casting mellow pink and yellow light across the city. Cassian assumed Feyre and Rhysand were preparing for training, and that Nesta and Elain were already at the sparring ring.

He had taken a break for the week, his nightmares getting to be too much, even during the day. Dark thoughts constantly swirled in his head, like a buzzing fly he couldn’t get rid of.

As he landed softly on one of the many balconies at the House, Cassian noted the silence around him, the peace. From the height he was at, he could see the entire city stretched out below him. Seagulls flew across the Sidra, men and women walked through the streets to get to work. Cassian could never get enough of Velaris, it truly was a dream.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward to rest his elbows against the railing, and stared at nothing. He allowed all of his fears and doubts to cloud his mind, all of that sadness. Now—he had to let everything out now or else he would never get the chance. The day was too busy to be distracted by such things.

He remembered training all of those men—the ones who were misted during battle. He remembered their names and their families, their strengths and their weaknesses. All of that had been taken from them in a fraction of a second.

He knew he could have saved them. He could have warned them a second sooner, or sensed what was about to happen because that was his job—to protect. He had failed.

“It should have been me,” he whispered into the early morning breeze, relieved to finally get those words out of him, even if it was to no one. The hundreds of Illyrians that died did not deserve it, but Cassian... he did. Or at least, that’s what he had convinced himself.

Maybe if he had died with them, he thought, he would have found peace in the afterlife, would have belonged there among the fallen warriors. His wings were scarred and his body ached every time he moved, and all he wanted was peace. If death brought him that, he would be fine with it.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a tear hit the back of his palm. He brought one of his hands up to wipe his wet cheeks, but it was no use. The tears kept coming, and he didn’t want to stop them, he needed the grief to pass, at least for now.

So, for the next ten minutes, Cassian, the Lord of Bloodshed and General Commander of the Night Court’s armies, sobbed on the balcony of the House of Wind. He cried until his vision was blurry and he tasted the salt from his tears. His heart hurt the more he thought about everything, and it was only when a small creek sounded behind him that he froze.

Before anyone could see, he wiped the tears away from his face the best he could, cursing himself for not being aware of someone approaching. His eyes were still puffy and red, but Cassian didn’t care, not as he turned to see Nesta standing at the entrance to the House. Her blue grey eyes were filled with emotions, so many that he had to look away, turning back to the city so she couldn’t see his face.

“What do you want,” he muttered, disappointed that she was seeing him in such a state, but also frustrated by the fact that she finally decided to look at him. Apparently, it took him having a total break down for her to do so.

There was another beat of silence, before he saw her approaching him out of the corner of his eye. She wore a purple nightgown, her hair loose and draping over her shoulders, which meant she must have just woken up. If Cassian had known she was in the House, he wouldn’t have come.

“You aren’t alone.”

She set her hands on the railing from where she stood a few feet away, leaving a safe distance between them. You aren’t alone. That was all she had to say? After everything they had gone through, after seeing him break down in front of her, after nearly dying, that’s all she could manage for him?

“So are you just going to ignore what happened then?” Cassian blurted, his sadness slowly morphing into anger. He caught her flinch at his words, at the sudden accusation.

“Oh, and you haven’t been ignoring it as well? You’re just going to blame your issues on me?” She snarled and turned from him to walk away. Of course, Cassian was not surprised at all, in fact, he expected her to walk away within the first second of eye contact.

A low growl escaped him, and even as she headed back inside, he whispered, “I thought I had finally figured you out.”

She paused with her hand on the door handle, ready to dismiss him entirely. He didn’t move from his spot, only turned to look at her over his shoulder, and he hoped she could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“I thought I had managed to get through to you, Nesta. I thought…” He shook his head and gave up. “Forget it. There’s no use wasting my breath on someone who couldn’t give a shit.”

Nesta’s gaze turned cold, and he watched her march up to him as if she would strike. He prepared himself, especially because she was still mastering her powers. Instead, she pointed a finger and snarled, “You don’t get to say I don’t care. You don’t know anything about me. What happened on that battlefield is in the past, so forget it. Thinking about it will only make everything worse.” Her words were sharp, clipped, and Cassian narrowed his eyes at the challenge.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not how war works. That’s not how any of this works. You don’t get to just forget about it. I lost hundreds of soldiers, hundreds of friends, and I’m supposed to just forget about that? About them? You lost your father!”

A muscle feathered in her jaw, but she stood straight with crossed arms, stubborn as usual.

“I’m sorry about your friends,” she murmured, and for a split second, Cassian thought he heard remorse in her tone, but the look on her face said otherwise.

“No. You don’t get to apologize. You’re part of the reason they’re gone.” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, something so horrible, but Nesta snapped back at him immediately.

“I saved your life! Would you rather have been misted-”

“Yes!” He screamed, now fully facing her. A look of shock entered her face, and suddenly everything seemed to go quiet. He hadn’t realized how loud they’d been yelling, how still the rest of the world was. He wondered how many people had heard.

“You wanted to die with them,” she whispered. Not a question, but a realization. Cassian only watched her for a second longer before turning away to look over Velaris. He could hear her release a breath of air, like she had been holding it in for too long.

“I called your name, Cassian, because I cared. And I still do.”

He wanted to ignore her, wanted to fly off that balcony and dismiss her entirely like she had done to him, but those words hung between them and he turned to face her again. She wasn’t lying.

“Then why did you walk away? That day in the townhouse, and every day after that. If you care, then why hide?” He tensed as he awaited a response, an explanation.

Her eyes were lined with silver, as if she was holding back tears, and she spoke again. “Because I was frightened,” a pause, and she bit her bottom lip, “of what I felt for you.”

Oh. Cassian didn’t remove his gaze from hers. He watched those blue-grey eyes finally fill with tears, and when one fell down her cheek, Nesta quickly looked away. Before she could wipe it, he reached forward and took her chin in his hand. She didn’t pull away as his thumb brushed away the wetness, and caught the next tear that fell as well.

His voice was low when he finally broke the silence. “I wanted time with you. That was my wish.” His eyes searched hers. “Will you give me that time now?”

Nesta swallowed, and remained quiet for a moment, studying his face. Her gaze moved behind him to his wings, to the scars that were still healing, to the torn bottom of his left one. She studied them while his hand stayed where it was, holding her face carefully. Finally, she looked at him again.

“Yes,” she breathed, her bottom lip trembling slightly. He brushed a gentle finger against it, a gesture that made Nesta look away, and his hand fell to his side. “I don’t know what’s between us, but with time, I’m willing to learn.”

Cassian nodded, waiting for her to finish.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t apologizing for wanting time, she was apologizing for everything. For ignoring him for months, for the guilt that consumed him because if his soldiers, for being closed up and not letting him in.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaustion taking over again because of the sleepless night. “I’m sorry, too.”

She stared at him, and without warning she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his middle, being cautious of his injuries. Cassian slid his own arms around her, returning the gesture, and placed a light kiss on the top of her head.

“Time,” he murmured, and he felt her nod against him. He wanted to stay like that forever, with Nesta Archeron in his arms, the cool breeze blowing her hair off her shoulder.

When she pulled back, her eyes were red, but there were no more tears. “Would you like to go for a walk later?”

He was stunned by the question, but he recovered and quickly nodded his head. “Of course.”

She gave him a small smile, one that was rare to appear on her face, but he returned it nonetheless. He watched her disappear into the House of Wind a moment later, and his heart warmed. The fear that had brought him here, to the balcony, had vanished, almost like Nesta had been the cure.

His body still ached as he flapped his wings and began flying back to his townhouse, but he smiled. He smiled until he landed at his front door, and continued as he walked inside. He smiled because he and Nesta were making progress, but mostly because he felt light for the first time since the war. The weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Nesta Archeron had given him a reason to live.

#my writing #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #nessian fanfiction #nessian angst

[skylar-river-blog]

Living With Wings

Growing up in an Illyrian camp isn’t easy. Constant training, flying lessons, not to mention the terrible beds. But being a woman in an Illyrian camp is a different story. After running away at a young age, River has had to survive in ways her mother and father could never imagine, even with all of the struggles her mother had to face when she first came to the camp. With the impending war with Hybern, the Illyrian forces need all of the help they can get. There’s just one problem: women aren’t allowed wings, and they sure as hell aren’t allowed on the battle field, the one place River knows she belongs.

Chapter 1

The forest is quiet. This sort of quiet is not one that is wanted. Ever. It suggests the presence of the naga or the Bogge. They haven’t been seen in these areas for a few months, this being the only reason I set up camp here. My senses are on high-alert, waiting for the smallest shift in the atmosphere, waiting for the perfect time to strike. My body is stone. Frail and thin, but stable, strong. The weapons around my waist are nothing that I would pick from a lineup, but they are the best I have: a knife I carved from a stone and a spear head taken from an arrow. Living on your own is nothing to brag about, especially when you might be devoured if you make one wrong step.

A twig snapped from a few hundred feet away, and I made my move. I ran northeast, a bit to the left from where I heard the sound. Hopefully this would give me the upper hand and a fair shot at killing it, whatever it was. Running through the trees I heard only my feet crunching leaves, reassuring my suspicion. With this I turn and run north. There is nothing within me that I fear enough for the Bogge to kill me. I have nothing to love or care for. The closer I got, the quieter it became. Almost 30 feet away, I stop, only to become aware of my surroundings, of all of my escape routes. It’s definitely quieter here. I turned in place and saw nothing. Throwing a rock at a nearby tree, I grabbed my knife and waited. For what, I didn’t know. The longer I waited the more the silence began to devour me, the more I began to lose myself.

I slowly dropped to a crouch and turned, until I came face to face with my father. I stumbled back on my knees and quickly got to my feet.

“It’s time you come home.” His voice was strong and rough.

“Why are you here? And how did you find me?”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s time you stopped playing these games of survival and came back to your mother.” Figures. He’s only here because my mother sent him.

“You couldn’t care less about me. Yet you let mother convince you to hunt me.” My father never did anything he didn’t want to. Only something valued by my father would be accepted for him to go out of his way like this. Dear Gods, what did she promise him?! “I’ll ask you again. Why are you here.”

“Your mother.” There was a kind of fear and worry as he said it. “Come home.”

“What’s wrong with mother.” A command, not a question.

“See for yourself.” Behind my father, I then realized, stood three Illyrian soldiers in their fighting leathers. My father was going to take me back, with or without a fight. I contemplated running, straight toward them, hoping to catch them off guard. Then I remembered my mother. Something must be horribly wrong if he hunted me, even after my rough departure.

I began walking east. Even after not seeing a sign of my birth camp, the location has never left. For months after I left I made the first few steps back, thinking of how much it would hurt my mother, how much easier it would be to return home and live in constant protection, even if I would be disregarded and treated as less than the ground they walked on.

Then I thought of them. I thought of all of the other women in the camp., all of the others that tried to escape and never made it. This wasn’t just for me. This was for them, too. This was for my mother. She left her camp in hopes of a new life until the my father’s captain found her. She still had hers at the time,. Until they were publicly ripped from her in the center of the camp as a lesson for anyone else who tried to run. Had my father not secretly sent that healer to her tent that night, she would have died.

I would not let this go to waste.

This is for her.

Then why am I leading my father back to the camp? Why am I reminding him that I never forgot where they were, even if he didn’t care? My mother is much stronger that that. She may have lost them, but they never left. She would have sent word herself. She would have alerted me. Somehow. This was too easy. Too simple.

He gave no details of her condition. No hint or suggestion at her well-being. This is what made me feel the unease that gripped my chest with its sharp talons.

Nevertheless I continued on.

~~~~~~

We were at the camp by sundown. I hadn’t realized how far I had traveled from the camp. It still looked the same. Even after all of these years, nothing has changed except for the youth running around with copper swords and wooden shields. We were given wooden swords.

I walked through the crowd with my head high. Everyone knew who I was and, what I’d done. I could smell their rage as I walked to my tent.

Nothing.

My mother was nowhere to be seen. I went through every room and found nothing. I couldn’t even smell her there. It felt as though she had never lived at all.

Turning around I smelled there were more soldiers in the tent.

“Where is my mother?” Their expressions hinted at nothing. I scanned the soldiers, looking each of them in the eye as I did.

And I was gone.

In a blink I was behind the line of soldiers, running towards the woods. And in a heartbeat they were in the air. Flying above me they flapped their broad, muscular wings downwards, making it harder for me to breathe. I kept running, forcing air in and out of my lungs, ignoring the burning as it entered ice cold into my fiery chest.

The soldiers began to descend, further restricting my breathing. They are taught this strategy as soon as they to learn to fly. The camp started swarming with soldiers, at least five from every angle. The ground was clear and I had one clear shot, one last chance.

I summoned them. Within seconds I was off the ground, soaring into the sky. I flapped my wings in smooth and quick repetitions, hoping to gain as much altitude as possible. The wind burned my eyes and the cold air burned my lungs. My body screamed at me to look back, to see if we were in the clear.

I didn’t dare.

The tears began to stream down my face as the rage I had bottled up escaped. How dare my father use my mother. How dare he abuse my love for her. How dare I believe him. How dare I think that he would come to me if my mother truly was in danger.

How dare I.

The tears began falling faster as I let out a scream. My wing. I tried flapping them, tried to gain altitude as my body began hurtling toward the forest below me. I looked to my left; there was an ash arrow through my wing. I looked to my right, only to find the same thing in the other. Snapping the body of the arrow, I pulled the other half from my wing, letting out a faint scream. After releasing the other arrow I tucked them in close. The last thing I would do is give them another target.

With my feet grazing the treetops, I opened my wings and glided to the ground, grunting with the pain it brought on. They had missed one of the vital veins, but it would still take time to heal. I sprinted between the trees, using their canopies as cover. When they had all flown past and there was no sign or smell of their company within a ten mile radius I walked to a stream nearby and began washing my wings in hopes of washing away any splinters from the arrows.

“And where do you think you’re goin’?” The voice was deep, commanding, but gentle. I tucked my wings in tight, turning to the man.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to stare?” I spat, not caring about the sting it may have carried.

“And didn’t anyone tell you to keep those hidden?” He motioned to my wings that were peaking out on my sides. I noticed his were dark, strong and defined. Mine were stark white, with streaks of blood running down and staining my feathers.

“Apparently I have been doing just that if I still have them.”

“And you might just as easily lose them if you aren’t careful.” The smirk that crossed his face made me want to slap it right off.

“And you might as well lose yours if you don’t watch how you talk to me.”

He chuckled before saying, “And who are you to speak to me in this way? I would think again before I opened my mouth if I were you.”

“Who are you, then? You clearly don’t look like you live in the forest.” His arms were toned, legs defined, and chest broad and muscular. Everything about him screamed High Fae. Everything about him screamed at me to run.

“I’m not High Fae, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Emissary?” He shook his head. “Commander of an army?” Shook his head again. “If you’re not High Fae, or emissary, or a commander, then who are you?”

He stood up straight, and it wasn’t until then that I had realized he was slouching. His wings must have been pure muscle if they caused him to slouch like that. “I am your greatest ally you have, at the moment. Call me Alekos, Defender of Mankind. Or faekind, in this case.” His tone of voice as he said his name was comedic, almost as though he named himself.

“Okay, Alekos, wher--”

“Alekos, Defender of Faekind.” He corrected with a smirk. He had the mannerisms of someone I knew growing up. Someone pompous, flirtatious, snarky.

“Yeah, whatever. Where are you from then?”

“I can definitely show you to my tent, if that’s what you mean,” he said with a grin. Definitely familiar.

“No, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll go back to my camp then, if that’s all the help you’re going to be,” I said with a bite, whether intentional or not, I wasn’t sure.

“You won’t get anywhere with those wings in that condition. Maybe a mile or two, but not more, and it’s my best guess to say that your camp isn’t two miles away. I have something at my camp that can help with those wounds. But that would mean following me to my tent, and I’m not sure we’re quite ready for that yet.” He finished his last sentence with a smirk, with which I replied with a mocking smile. I spread my wings, taking another look at the holes that weren’t healing.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve lived through worse.” I made to take flight before he could stop me, but the pain shooting through them and down my spine stopped me before he even had the chance. I winced, taking a step back to regain my balance.

“You won’t last a hundred yards. Let me give you something for the ashwood. Then I’ll take you back to your camp.” This time there was no smirk, no grin. A straight, serious face looked down at me. His prominent cheekbones and deep blue eyes complimented each other, while still allowing his strong, cut jawline to show his assertion.

“How far off?” I would take the help, only because I couldn’t do this alone without a salve, or anything to initiate the healing.

He gestured farther south. “Maybe three miles out. We can make it within the hour if we run, but we’ll make it within the half hour if I carry you.”

“I don’t need to be carried, I’m not lame.” My attitude was obvious. He looked me up and down. Alec assessed my body, taking the most time with my wings. I tucked them back in closer, wincing at the pain again shooting through my spine. “I can walk.”

“Then we’d better get going. Those soldiers will come looking for you soon enough.” He was right. They would look by the water, knowing I was injured and would attempt to clean my wounds. Knowing going back to my camp would be a death wish for me, I motioned him to lead the way, keeping a few paces back.

[propshophannah]

Hey here's an idea for a drabble how about the whole gang goes out to Rita's or something and Elain gets super drunk and Az has to take care of her?

[This is probably not what you had in mind. LOL. I apologize for nothing.]

Elain Archeron is a light weight. If you looked up the definition in the dictionary, you’d find her picture. One beer and she is toasty and warm and giggling.

She’s sitting between Feyre and Azriel in a booth at Rita’s, telling them about the birds and the bees. The literal birds and bees in her garden. Then she starts talking about Graysen. She’s long been over him, but since they’re talking about the garden…

“He touched me in the garden once,” she says. Feyre’s eyes go wide (she’s got a healthy buzz) and her jaw drops. Azriel sits straight as a board and stares very hard at his drink.

“Shut. Up.” Feyre says.

Elain shrugs. “It’s true. It seemed so scandalous at the time. We were alone, unchaperoned. Engaged of course. And I’d let him kiss my neck. And then I just wanted other things.” She’s completely casual. “I put his hand on my ankle, and when he didn’t move it up, I did it for him.”

Feyre says, “Little Elain Archeron, papa’s favorite, budding socialite—getting fingered by the Nolan boy! I’m buying you another drink, I want details!” They laugh and Feyre gets up to get Elain more booze.

Elain stares at the table, “I used to think it was such a big deal. Saving yourself for marriage. Wanting to be in love. And I knew we’d get married—or were going to get married. But after I came it just seemed like such a stupid thing to be modest about.” Azriel coughs. Elain pats him on the back. “Of course that’s not to say I’d just sleep with anyone. I have standards and I’m not a whore. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a whore if that’s what you want to do for a living—Azriel, are you all right?”

Az is not all right. For two reasons. One: he likes Elain. REALLY likes Elain. Two: her tiny hand is now on his thigh, and she is too drunk to care about personal space. But luckily Feyre comes back with that second drink.

Elain takes a big swig, and both sisters go into details about their sex lives. Apparently, Elain Archeron is not as innocent as they all thought. She tells them all about the sex she and Graysen had, about the shape of his penis, and third nipple just above his belly button. She and Feyre go into excruciating details about their first times and about their best and worst orgasms.

Azriel doesn’t mind women talking about their sex lives. He thinks it’s healthy. He just thinks he’s the wrong guy to have the conversation in front of. Cassian would be a waaaay better choice. But sadly, he’s out on the dancefloor engaged in what looks like a dance off with Mor and Nesta (He’s kicking their asses btw).

By the time Elain makes it to the bottom of her second drink she is practically in Azriel’s lap. And she and Feyre are both berating him to look Elain up with one of his “spy friends.”

“Please, Az,” Feyre says. “Look at her. She hasn’t gotten any action in over a year. You’ve got to have spy friends somewhere you can hook her up with.” Elain bats her eyes up at him. “OOH! What about shadowy friends?”

“Yeah,” Elain says. She reached up and twines her finger in one of the shadows Az is trying to disappear into. “I’ve never been touched by a shadow before.” She loses her balance and her hand swipes clean down the length of Azriel’s wing. He fidgets and then downs his drink.

Feyre laughs and motions to Elain to come over to her. When Elain does, Feyre whispers very loudly in her ear, about how sensitive Illyrian wings are. Elain’s first reaction is to check under the table. But Azriel saw that coming, so he crossed his legs in advance. What he didn’t see coming was the lust filled look saturating Elain’s features. She leanes over to him just as Feyre is swept up by Rhys—who has a sudden hankering for hot dogs so they must go in search—and says, “I didn’t mean to touch you so inappropriately. If you’d like, you can do the same to me. You know, to make it even.” She’s on her knees then bringing her face level with his. And holy hell he wants to take her up on that offer, but she’s definitely to drunk to be making clear decisions.

“That’s very thoughtful, Elain, but—”

“I think about you touching me sometimes.” And now she’s definitely too close and definitely too drunk, but also WHAAAAAAAT? And because he’s a shadowy bastard, Azriel can’t keep the grin off his face. He tries, he really does, but he can’t stop it. Elain’s answering smile is like a sunrise. “Do you think about me, Azriel? When you touch yourself?”

And her lips are in his ear, breath on his skin. And because he’s never lied a day in his life he thinks to himself: fuck it. He turns to Elain and says, “Yes.”

“I see things sometimes,” she says, watching as she runs a finger down his wing. “For instance, I saw that tonight you take me home. Make me drink two glasses of water before bed. Then you sleep on the couch because I live alone and you want to make sure I don’t need anything in the night.” She meets his eyes. “But it’s in the morning that I need something. While I’m naked… in the shower. And guess who still around to give me what we both need?”

She pinches the skin at the top of his wing hard enough to hurt. He sucks in a hard breath, and wraps a large hand around Elain’s tiny waist. “I think I should take you home right now. You’ve had far too much to drink.”

He wraps them both in shadow and winnows them away.

#Elriel #Elriel headcanon #Elriel drabble #Elain x azriel #drunk Elain