#cassian × rhys × azriel
Sunlight Like Delicate Threads
The memory of his first flight is the brightest and warmest of all.
Fandom: A Court of Thornes and Roses By Sarah J Maas
Characters: Azriel (minor Rhysand and Cassian)
Word Count: 1350
The great, old pine tree was one of the largest in this corner of the forest. It stood unyielding, almost otherworldly. The trunk was enormous, but the fingers that gripped onto it were tiny. Dirt firmly embedded under the fingernails, the skin a warped patchwork of ugly, reddish scars. The rough bark prodded into flesh as the little boy climbed. Up, up, up. A tentative summer had managed to persevere in the harsh northern Illyrian mountains. Streams of light flittered through the trees like the delicate threads of finely seamed clothes. After all these months, Azriel still couldn’t fathom it. The warmth of the pale, watery sunlight caressing his back and wings. Sunlight, he decided, was his favourite part of the Outside. Or anything to do with subtle and steady warmth: steamy baths, chicken stew, woolly blankets. Hot chocolate. No wonder the High Fae worshipped Gods and Cauldrons if those were their creations. What startling difference they were to the frenetic and furious heat of a flame. Flames that tormented and destroyed.
The only sounds other than the songs of the wind wandering through the trees, were his own ragged breaths. Usually, when he would make his attempts to fly, it was coupled with the sound of the taunts and ridicules of two Illyrian boys he could never shake off no matter how hard he tried. Rhysand and Cassian. Short-tempered and rambunctious, the pair were never able to stay patient long enough to teach him before they would fall into a tangled flurry of bruised skin and bloodied fists. And how could they tech him? Both had been flying since they were babes, answering those roaring Illyrian instincts even when they were still so young. The same instincts that Azriel had to shove deep inside of him. Instincts that have long since diminished. Afterall, he had no need for them in the Inside. Just the infuriating though of those boys had him carelessly slipping on a branch. The prickly pine needles tickled against the sensitive skin of his membranous wings, and Azriel let out an embarrassingly high-pitch yelp. Thank the Gods Rhysand and Cassian weren’t here. He had made sure of that. He hated upsetting Rhysand’s kind and warm mother but breaking her favoured flower vase was a necessary act of evil. She would never suspect docile and detached Azriel of such carelessness. But short-tempered and rambunctious Rhysand and Cassian, who were always at the wrong end of a reprimand from the woman. Well, it was almost too easy. No doubt the two boys were knee-deep in a scathing and extravagant punishment at this very moment. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty.
When the boy reached a sturdy looking branch, he braced himself at the base as he repeated the technique over in his mind. Kick, open, and tuck. With a deep inhale, Azriel leapt from the branch. But a brief seizure of panic, had him flailing into a branch of another tree. He fell, landing on his elbows and knees in the soft, pinecone littered earth. He did his best to clamp down on the shame rising inside of him before he got back up and went to climb the tree again. This time, he managed to get in a few good flaps of his wings before a sudden gust of air had him careening to the to the ground again. He fell face-first, getting a mouth full of dirt and dead pine needles. He could practically hear the phantom wretched laughs of his two older brothers as they poured oil onto his unblemished hands. But Azriel got back up on shaky legs and went to climb the tree. Again, and again. On his sixth attempt, he forgot to brace himself before he ran down the length of the branch. His foot landed too close to the edge and before he could even lift off, his ankle twisted and he slipped over the side, tumbling through the tree, absorbing blows from branches at his shoulder, thigh, and head before he landed on his back. He yelled out in anguish when his wings were crushed beneath the weight of his body, the air in his lungs rushing out of him all at once. Azriel didn’t get back up this time. The darkness between the tree caught his attention. They seemed to quiver with anticipation. He couldn’t tell if they were encouraging or taunting him.
The shadows that lurked were hard to ignore now. For the boy that spend his first eight years of his life shrouded in darkness, of course he didn’t notice in those first few days in the Outside that they were quite literally following him wherever he went. Shadows that formed and disappeared and reformed. Shadows that danced and stroked and whispered things to him that only darkness would know. He often wondered what their presence meant. Maybe they were mere hallucinations, a sign that the perpetual abyss finally consumed his mind. Maybe they were his harbingers, awaiting talons ready to drag him back to the Inside. Maybe the darkness of the Inside will never leave him. But right now, Azriel could see the sunlight through the trees. Sunlight like delicate threads. Maybe…no. He had to. He had these eyes to see and these legs to take him anyway in the Outside. He had these wings, no matter how wilted and weak, to carry him to whatever is beyond the Outside. He had to fly.
With gritted teeth and reforged determination, the boy stood back up and gripped the great, old pine tree. By now, he had memorised the most stable path for ascending, and he knew when to tuck and turn his wings so the prickly pine needles wouldn’t brush against them. Up, up, up he climbed. And when he reached that branch, Azriel stilled and closed his eyes. He stood unyielding as the tree, unyielding as the harsh northern Illyrian mountains. He opened himself up and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel everything. The scent of earth and pine in the air, the timid sunlight on his skin, the cold wind ruffling through his hair, at his back. And there it was. The slightest shift, a bated breath. And all at once the winds pushed. Azriel ran. Azriel leaped. He kicked his feet and freed his wings in one mighty sweep. And Azriel flew. He caught onto the wind’s current, gliding, and flapping at the right moments. He dodged and twisted and weaved through the trees, the pine needles tickling at his outstretched fingertips. He ignored the screaming pain in the joints of his back. And in a single breath, Azriel broke through the tree line and reached the Outside beyond. The sun’s warmth hugged him from all sides, like steamy baths and chicken stew and woolly blanket and hot chocolate all at once. And the sky. He had never seen anything so blue. Azriel cried then, honest, and warm tracks of tears sliding down his face and dissolving into the air around him. He didn’t try to stop them; he didn’t want to. Azriel had believed that only darkness was endless. But this. The sun and the sky around him, and the world below, the Outside. This was true endlessness. Light and warmth.
Suddenly, two dark flashes appeared at the corner of his vision and propelled towards him. And for a harrowing moment, the boy though they were shadowed talons, finally coming to drag him back into darkness. But these talons had wings like his and matching mischievous glints in their eyes. And they were laughing. Rhys and Cass. They swooped and circled him. They whooped and cheered. They shouted words Azirel couldn’t here over the roaring of the winds. But one look at the pure elation on their faces and he knew. He could feel it bubbling inside of him too, unfamiliar but welcomed. And Azriel laughed. So pure and childlike. He had never made a sound so joyous and unrestrained. The little boy laughed and whooped and cheered with his friends as they flew into the endless Outside.
i love azriel sm
like and reblog if you liked this! and check out my other fics too! (there's not many but im proud of them)😊
as always, thanks
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ACOTAR Characters as Vines Part 5 *Lots of Spoilers*
WARNING: Spoilers for all of the ACOTAR books
Tamlin: Locks Feyre in his House
Feyre: “Aww fuck, I can’t believe you’d done this.”
Tamlin to Ianthe: “And they were roommates.”
Feyre: *Spying for Rhys* “Oh my god, they were roommates.”
Cassian: “Don’t fuck with me, I have the power of god and anime on my side!”
Mor: *Looking at Cass and Az*
Az: “Mor, don’t do it, I swear.”
Mor: “Two bros chillin’ in a hot tub, five feet apart cause they’re not gay.”
Amren: “We all die, you either kill your self or get killed.”
Cassian: *dancing* “Whatcha gonnna do?”
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Cassian, standing on a stool: I HAVE ZERO FEARS
Elain, without looking up: Nesta’s in a bad mood today
Cassian: ONE FEAR
Cassian: TWO FEARS
Nesta, smirking: Hey Azriel? Mor told me you had the biggest wingspan—
Cassian: THREE FEARS
Amren: The Prison brought Lanthys back to life
Cassian: FOUR FEARS
Rhys: Helion just told me he won’t ally with us unless Mor, Azriel, Cassian and Nesta all join him in be—
Cassian: ALRIGHT JUST SHUT UP NOW
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Rhys to Feyre: Who I am in the Court of Nightmares... it's not something I want you to see.
Az to Gwyn *probably*: I'd rather you not see who I am in the Court of Nightmares.
Cassian to Nesta *probably*: Going to the Court of Nightmares tomorrow! Please come with me! You're going to be sooooo turned on. I promise. ;)
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we all loved Tamlin at some point.
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Eu teria esperado quinhentos anos mais por você. Mil anos. E, se esse foi todo o tempo que nos foi permitido... a espera valeu a pena.
The Lost Children's Keeper
Prickly and proud Special Agent Rhysand Nygard has always been adverse to change. Especially when it comes to his rag-tag band of unconventional - sometimes unhindged - agents. Their methods to enforce justice may be somewhat crude, but for investigating the most twisted and dire of crimes, there is no better team for the job. And while their free rein within the FBI has largely been overlooked, when they go one mistake too far, all eyes are on them.
Ambitious and straight-laced Special Agent Feyre Archeron hasn't been with the FBI for very long. But in a short amount of time, her relentless work ethic and tenacious attitude has not gone unnoticed. When an opportunity arises to be a part of the notorius yet undeniably successful team headed by the aloof Special Agent Nygard, she grabs it with both hands. But at Rhys' swift and utter revulsion towards the rookie agent, Feyre quickly learns her coverted job isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Meanwhile, as horror befalls the tight-knit community of Bluewoods, Georgia. The pair begrudgingly set aside their differences and egos to hunt down the vicious serial killer that runs rampant thorugh the once peaceful town.
A modern AU acotar fic wherein feysand and the inner circle are badass, crime-fighting FBI agents.
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Quero que saiba que estou quebrada, e me curando, mas cada pedaço de meu coração pertence a você.
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remember when cassian told feyre she wasnt just rhysands anymore, but she was his too and everyone elses?? yeahh i do. literally who could compete with feyre? she got the whole bat boy trio in the palm of her hands. jealous af
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what do you think is Gwyn’s sun sign?
HAHAHAHAH IM SO GLAD SOMONE ASKED THIS!! I’ve had my thoughts on their star signs in my drafts for months.
Gwyn: such a sun Aquarius. Rising in Gemini. Moon in Gemini.
Azriel: hot take, but his sun is in Gemini. Moon in Aquarius, and rising in Virgo.
Nesta: Her sun is either in Scorpio or Capricorn. A Scorpio rising if I ever did see one lol, and moon in Scorpio. She’s terrifying and we simp for it.
Cassian: Aries sun, Aries rising, Sagittarius moon.
Feyre: Pisces sun, Capricorn rising, moon in Leo or Pisces.
Mor: Sun in cancer, rising Taurus, moon in Virgo.
Rhys: Leo sun, Leo rising, moon in Scorpio or Aquarius.
Elain: Sun in Virgo, rising cancer, moon in cancer.
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Nessian- pinned against the wall headcanon
Stepping out into the Illyrian camp, the cold biting her skin, Nesta could hear familiar voices.
Holding her head high, she walked into the training field. “Morning everyone” she gave a quick smile, and ensured she held no-ones gaze.
“Balthazar”. She gave her most flirty smile, the Illyrian, who had become a close friend, gave a friendly smile back.
In a bid to help better their views of women, the Valkyries and inner circle trained at the Illyrian camp a few days a week, Balthazar, since helping her during thewrite, had become good friend with Nesta.
“Should I ask why you’re over here” Balthazar asked, a smile smile playing on his lips as Nesta attempted to maintain her flirty demeanour and stretch, all whilst ensuring Cassian could see her.
She could hear Mor laughing, and Nesta resisted the urge to growl at her.
Her mating bond was chafing, and watching Mor train with Cassian, Nesta wanted to rip both of them to pieces.
She was being ridiculous she knew, but she couldn’t quell her jealousy, her possessiveness. She couldn’t stop picturing the two of them togther.
A fight had ensued, and here she stood.
“I take it you two haven’t made up yet then” Balthazar quipped.
“I need you to trust me, and go along with me” she whispered, so that her mate, who’s eyes were trained on her, did not overhear.
Balthazar’s eyes widened as Nesta began sliding a hand up his arm as if to admire the muscles underneath. Nesta had to grab his arm as he attempted to shake her off.
Cassian growled, and even from across the sparring field, she could feel his anger.
“Nesta I do not need the General to rip me to pieces with his bare hands because his mate wants to make him jealous” Balthazar held his fake smile in place, but his eyes were panicked.
Nesta rolled her eyes, trying to quell the rush of desire at the males terror. A reminder that her mate was lethal, that he would be written in history for his brutal strength and tact, revered across all seven courts for his feats in war.
“Nes, this is a bad idea. This won’t end well. The lack of sex has given you both short fuses” came Emerie’s voice, her friend usually the one who calmed everything, could see Cassian’s temper rising.
“I had to ask Gwyn to sleep over because I was worried I’d beg Cassian for sex in the middle of the night” Nesta snapped. Emeries lips began to twitch as she held in a laugh at both Netas outburst, and for poor Gwyn who had become an unwitting third wheel, and even Balthazar’s lips twitched.
“ I haven’t fucked my mate in over two weeks, so today i will use every skill and weapon in my arsenal to get him to throw in the towel” she huffed, her body so attuned to Cassian, she had to restrain herself from jumping onto his back and taking him right here.
“So you” she turned on Balthazar, squeezing his arm, even as she compared it as so much smaller than her mates. “Will pretend. You will let me flirt and antagonise my mate, and you can be assured he will be far too busy devouring every inch of me, to even remember to snarl at you”. Emerie snickered, but Nesta, who was now imagining Cassian and her on a kitchen table, was too distracted to care.
Nesta turned to Balthazar, putting both her hands on his chest, ignoring her friends grumble, and began to take deep breaths.
Cassian snarled again, and the sound of another Illyrian swearing told her that whoever had been unfortunate enough to spar against Cassian was taking the brunt of his anger.
Nesta smiled and slid closer to Balthazar, ignoring the scent that was all wrong, and focused on Cassian’s heavy breathing and snarls, imagining it was him she was chest to chest with instead.
“If you wanted him angry you can be rest assured that’s worked” muttered Balthazar. “He’s just taken four Illyrians to the floor” he shook his head, in wonder and part fear.
“Good, time to take it up a notch” she winked at him as she leaned to rest her head on his arm, and both jumped slightly at the sound of Cassian’s sword colliding with his opponents, imagining the power his angry stroke would have held to make such a sound.
“Don’t mind me” she said walking up to Feyre and Rhys, this close to her mate she could feel him shaking with rage. Feigning an innocent smile even as Feyre struggled to muffle her own laughter, she grabbed two swords.
She gave a quick dismissive look at Cassian, even as her blood heated. Sweat falling across Cassian’s heaving chest, his face terrifying and lined with such rage Nesta almost faltered. The three males he was sparring with dropped to the floor at his assault, all the while his eyes remained locked on Nesta.
As she walked back, she heard Morrigan drawl “Well this is interesting”.
“I agree cousin, a most interesting development” quipped Rhys, as she heard his footsteps come closer to her.
“Nesta. Have you quite finished torturing my brother yet? Any longer and I’ll have no Illyrians left standing”. His voice laced with laughter and interest.
“He’s not grovelling yet, so no” she smirked, and he responded with a dark laugh.
She lowered her voice to a whisper to ensure no one else could hear. “Make sure Cassian doesn’t…”
She hesistated, unsure how to describe that she wanted his jealousy, but not to damage all the work he had done here.
“I’ve got him.” He assured. “I’m not sure what your plan is, and I trust you, but the minute I think it’s pushing him too far I’ll stop this” he warned, eyes soft but juggling the role of brother and high lord.
“I’m relying on that” she assured him, glad that he was here. “Thank you” she added with a small smile and laughed a little as he walked back to the others, remarking how far the two had come in their relationship together.
“Here” she handed Balthazar a sword, “I’m going to teach you some fighting stances” she smiled, and Balthazar shook his head and rolled his eyes.
She pressed her body into his side, stroking down his arm to hold the sword above his hand.
“Cheap move Nesta” Balthazar roller his eyes. His siphons glowed, as did the siphons of every Illyrian around her. Cassian she realised. Cassian’s rage had activated all seven of his siphons , and every Illyrian nearby had responded by battle readying, feeling threatened at the power in her mates veins.
Nesta smiled. She was walking such a fine line between his jealousy and that uncontrollable rage that all fae and Illyrians possessed. She knew Rhys was readying, monitoring Cassians every breath.
“Fine. Let’s spar”
They faced off, and after a few false dodges, Nesta ran at him.
Balthazar fell to the floor and Nesta fell next to him, her arms across his chest. “Shit” Balthazar heaved breathlessly.
A vicious snarl, so loud Nesta’s bones shook, pure terror on Balthazar’s face and the familiar scent of her mate swarmed her.
His wings cast a shadow, his huge body stalking and shaking, dark eyes ready to rip Balthazar to pieces.
“Shit” she heard Rhys mutter and a second later, her and Cassian were being winnowed, dumped in Rhys’s mothers house and Rhys winnowed away once more.
His body in front of her, every sense and thought eddied away from her as she inhaled his scent and the smell of his sweat, possessiveness, rage and from the flare oh his nostrils, he detected her arousal too.
“What are you playing at” he grit out, his voice so low and guttural she could barely understand. he stalked to her, chest to chest, her head tipped so far to look into his eyes.
“Training” she gasped, this close to his body, she could do nothing but feel Cassian envelope her every sense.
“Is that what you call it” his voice sounded angry, as if he was using all his self control to not pounce her, he spoke againsther neck, and she whimpered.
“It’s just training remember, completely platonic” she bit out, throwing his own words at him.
The breath flew from her lungs as Cassian slammed her against the wall. His hand around her throat.
“Let’s train then” he ground his body against her, and Nesta arched into him, desperate for any contact. “But I promise you, when I’m done, you won’t be able to walk for weeks, and every step you take, you’ll remember me, and not that prick. I’m mark every goddamn inch of you if I have to” he swore, the red hot anger in his eyes making her moan once more as she ground against him.
“No” he snapped and grabbed her waist, he twisted his body taking them to the floor, his arm softening the impact, but suddenly he was caging her body with his legs and arms.
“What are you doing” near breathless, the moves making her dizzy she could think of anything but the huge make above her. She lifted her hips, trying to grind against him again.
A predatory smile, and he lifted her again, slamming her against the wall with her legs around his waist, his other hand he used to grip both of hers against the wall above her head.
“Let me remind you” a bite on her neck, and Nesta moaned.
“You are mine” a kiss so punishing Nesta gasped for breath, her chest heaving against his.
“Say it” he ground against her neck, marking her.
“I’m yours” she moaned, and bit his ear, he hissed.
“I’m yours, and you’re mine” she licked at his neck, tasting the sweat and salt.
He bit her lip, she yanked her head backwards, tasting her own blood. He pulled on her hair, she bit him neck once more.
“I’m yours” he growled. “I’m yours and you’re mine”. Claiming her in another kiss.
They continued to claim each other, to fuck so brutally they marked and mapped every inch of each other. To lose themselves in each other so throughly they forgot about everything but the taste of one another and until they could feel each other in their bloodstreams.
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This is my latest fic that I’ve written in the ACOTAR universe, it’s called One and a Half Month.
It follows Cassian during the weeks after Hybern in ACOMAF up until the point where he and Azriel goes and saves Feyre on the ice in chapter 13 in ACOWAR. And it’s Cassian’s POV. I’ve taken the small bits of information from the book to make the weeks as canon as possible!
And I’ve written 3 earlier fics featuring the friendship between Feyre & Cassian, and one with Feyre & Azriel, which can be found on my ao3 profile.
I’d love some feedback!
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Ok, but Rhys definitely put a shield around the bedroom Nesta and Cassian stayed in at the river-house.
Like I’m praying he did or else...could everyone hear them? Not just them up there screwing, but the symphonia blasting music?!
Or maybe they wanted to listen...um...
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azriel: (on the phone with taco bell)
azriel: Hi, yes, I was just calling to see if you guys had the watermelon slushies
taco bell employee: no, we dont
cassian, from across the room to the employee: FUCK YOU
rhys: (shoving cassian down stairs to get him to shut up)
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The slightly larger of the two, his face masked in shadow, chuckled and said, “Come on, Feyre. We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to.”
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All you need to know is that Az is an earrings guy, Rhys is a rings guy and Cass is a chains guy.
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The Night Court Inner Circle is just one big orgy and hear me out.
Look, the fae live for centuries. That’s a lot of time. Surely they must have gotten up to some shenanigans.
Here is my proof:
I just know Mor had sex with both Cassian and Azriel at some point.
If Feyre hasn’t had a foursome with the bat boys, than she must be dumb as fuck. (And Rhysand practically offered in ACOFAS)
We know Nesta wants to be fucked by both Azriel and Cassian.
Amren and Mor definitely hooked up at one point.
Rhysand would go along with whatever Feyre suggested.
Also, side note, Mor is a fucking lucky person. Before the Archeron sisters existed, she had been hanging out with the bat boys.
And I mean, they aren’t exactly virgins.
Let me make myself very clear. She definitely got fucked a lot.
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well i guess beacuse i like to emotionally abuse myself i wrote this lil fic. i got the idea for it from a post i saw about baby nyx being named after rhys' little sister.
sorry for any typos and errors.
Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas
Word Count: 1660
Rhysand stared out into the open field before him as he bounced the restless babe in his arms. He supposed he was too. In the weeks leading up to this, he had tried desperately to postpone this day. Scheduling fruitless visits to Illyrian training camps and even the Gods-forsaken Hewn City, just to delay the inevitable. By reflex, Rhysand hid his increasing nerves under a mask of cool indifference but judging by the knowing smirks his brothers’ and Mor were sporting, he was failing spectacularly at that. Unsurprisingly, it was Cassian who decided he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Okay, that’s it. Hand Nyx over, Rhys.” Cassian stepped forwards and held out his arms awaiting.
Instinctively, Rhys’ hold on the child only tightened, and a soft snarl emerged from his throat, “back off, Cass.”
“Mother’s tits Rhys! We haven’t got all day.” He exasperated.
“Cassian,” Mor’s sharp interjection was softened by the ghost of a smile.
“Sorry,” Cassian had the decency to look ashamed, before sending the babe a saccharine smile, “I meant Mother’s hips.” He looked to Rhys’ expectantly again.
“You know, the winds today are stronger than I anticipated. Maybe we should do this tomorrow.” Pathetic. It was a pathetic excuse, and he knew it. But every time he thought about the little thing he held in his arms, flying clumsily, and exposed through the sky, he only further cemented his feet into the ground. The babe only grew more restless.
“Scared by a tiny, little breeze, High Lordling? See look, even Nyx is getting tired of your sh-stuff.” He coughed, before adding, softer this time, “it’s time, brother.”
Rhys just spat back, with more venom that he intended, “come any closer, you bastard, and I’ll rip your arms from their sockets.”
Cassian’s powerful wings rustled behind him, and Mor and Azriel tensed, cautious shadows gathering in near their feet. But to Rhys’ surprise, Cassian didn’t take the bait. He continued to start unflinching at the agitated male, hazel eyes blazing, “Nyx is my sister too Rhys. Do you think I’d ever let anything happen to her?”
Rhys was startled. It was only because he remained dumbfounded by Cassian’s sudden seriousness, that he allowed his little sister to be lifted from his arms.
“Hello, Starlight.” His brother cooed, “are you ready to fly, darling?”
Nyx, the traitorous little thing, only gushed and prattled on delightfully in the way she always did when she was in Cassian’s arms. If it were any other situation, Rhys’ brotherly instincts would go into overdrive and he’d protest at the sight. But, for a moment, he could see it. He could see the way in which Cassian and Azriel and Mor watched over her, the steadiness in their gazes and the sureness of their movements. Yes, here, surrounded by her family, there was nowhere else in the world, that Nyx would be safer. Rhys' aggression instantly dissolved into guilt.
“I’m sorry, Cass.” He was. Truly. Without taking his eyes off the babe, his brother just nodded in understanding. Azriel stepped up to them this time and poked a scarred finger into her pudgy cheek.
“Can you show me how you move your wings, little one?” He asked the babe with a soft smile, flaring out his own wings as a demonstration. Even Rhys couldn’t help stop the smile that was forming on his face. A month ago, it was one of those rare nights that they were all together at the town house in Velaris, when war and politics were the furthest things from their minds. The three brothers began Nyx’s flying lessons by demonstrating the correct wing movement. The babe sat on the carpeted floor; head tipped back to look at the three imposing Illyrians towering over her.
“It’s like this, Starlight.” Rhys had demonstrated first, of course. With his back to her, he flared in and out, his large, membranous wings. His little sister, not intimidated in the least, simple marvelled at her older brother, her little wings motionless at her back.
“No, you prick,” Cassian had interrupted, pushing Rhys aside, “You have to do it like this!”. The second male went through his motions, but Nyx only laughed in glee and babbled incoherently, no doubt her encouragements for more.
“You’re doing the same Gods-damned thing I was doing, you brute!” Rhys had scowled, elbowing his way back into the baby’s line of attention.
“Both of you are idiots. Move.” Azriel had gone into the centre fold then. Cutting off the other two's muffled protests with his trademark cool demeanour. Not ten minutes later, Mor came bursting into the room. And when she took in the scene before her: the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of Bloodshed, and the Sypmaster, three terrible and awesome warriors she fought and killed beside, bickering and ruffling their wings like mad males, she had laughed herself hoarse. And soon, all four of them followed. Completely unaware, but utterly mesmerised by the sight of her family’s joy, baby Nyx’s happiness seemed to bleed into the rest of her body, and she fluttered those beautiful little wings at her back.
She was a quick study, but that was no surprise to anyone. When Rhys’ mother was still in the early weeks of her pregnancy, they were all shocked when their healer, Madja, told them the unborn child had wings. Shocked, because not even Rhysand, born with immense power that cautioned all the other High Lords, was born with wings. They knew then, that Nyx, still inside her mother’s belly, would be flying sooner that any normal Illyrian child. It still didn’t give him much comfort, however, the fact that they had been anticipating this day for an age before she was even born. To distract himself, Rhys, once again cast his gaze to his surroundings.
The day was so unlike the one just over a year ago. Rhysand’s mother was making preparation to go back to Velaris. Where she would spend the remaining month of her pregnancy, when the storm came in, vicious and unrelenting. The winds howled their protests, demanding to keep her in her cabin in the Illyrian mountains for the birth. And the very earth shook, like Ramiel Himself knew. Knew the way the Illyrians; lords, soldiers, and females alike, stopped to stare whenever they were near. Not to sneer at his mother’s untamed wings, but the life inside of her. Like the babe not yet born, was seasoned general, commanding everyone’s attention with her mere presence. Rhysand and his family knew it then, that like he, his little sister possessed power that none of them could possibly fathom. But in the way that he triumphed over night, perhaps she would command the sky itself.
And when labour came that very night, swift and far too many weeks early, they had no choice but to stay. His mother, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Madja and her assistant. The High Lord’s son, had faced countless battles, had once been nailed to the ground by his wings, and forced to watch as his own soldiers were tortured. But never, had he felt such helplessness as he heard his mother’s cries of pain. Never, he had felt such fear as his mother bled and begged him to save his sister’s life no matter what. And when the child’s first wails pierced through the air, his mother still very much alive and crying from joy, all at once, the storm settled. Like Ramiel had let out a breath of relief, for the birth of their Illyrian princess.
So much had changed in the year that his little sister came into this world. In those first few weeks, when Rhys could barely keep himself away from her. When baby Nyx, still unaware of most things around her, kept absentmindedly reaching out a delicate, little hand towards him. For the first time in his centuries-old existence, he felt like he finally had something was truly his. His little sister. This innocent, pure little thing. Of all the horror he had seen and was for responsible for in his years, that he could be given such a precious gift, astounded him. Even his sanctimonious prick of a father, changed considerably. Rhys was never sure about his father’s feelings towards his son, and even though he was more than capable, he was too afraid to use his daemati gifts to look into his mind and find out. Not because Rhys was afraid his father didn’t love him. He was afraid that he did. That in own callous, twisted way, he loved his son and that was how he showed it. Rhys swore to himself of of fear, that he would never turn out like him. And when his sister was born, he was fearful for a different reason. But it was different with Nyx. His father doted on her, though he never outwardly showed it. Rhys could sense the way his demeanour changed whenever she was around. The way his eyes melted when she would smile up at him with those endless violet eyes. His violet eyes. Rhys knew without a doubt his father loved his daughter, but for the first time, he wasn’t afraid.
Looking at her now, with eyes that resembled their father’s, alight with excitement, and the soft midday breeze ruffling through her wild, curly hair that resembled their mother’s. Rhysand could see the future as clear as the warm winter sunlight. He knew her true power would not lie in battle, but to make real change. He believed that this babe, who would someday grow into a strong, brilliant female, with Illyrian blood flowing through her veins and Illyrian wings to take her to the skies. Someday she could be a symbol for what was possible. Someday, they could ensure other females like her, can hear the songs of the wind. Someday, when he is High Lord of the Night Court, and she, the General Commander of the Illyrian armies. Together they could build a future that was good for all. Someday, Nyx. But today, she will learn how to fly.
I am so sorry for this. I don't know what kinda fucked up feelings i was in to conjure this but i was in dire need of some pre-acotar IC fics so i decided to make one myself.
Bonus: THINKNING ABOUT CASSIAN CALLING RHYS' BABY SISTER DARLING HAS ME SOBBING!!! HE IS SUCH A GIRLDAD YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.
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acotar characters- how well they can hold their alcohol and what type of drunk they are
feyre-a couple shots. she’s not great and when she gets drunk she gets DRUNK. but it takes a hot sec to get there. feyre is a very giggly drunk. she also gets like super sexual and hits on rhys
nesta-she is like crazy good, it takes a lot for her to get drunk. and she gets into a lot of drinking competitions. but when she gets wasted she gets even more feisty then normal. like she pulls out the fists and is ready to brawl it out with everyone
elain-is a light weight. so it doesn’t take long but once she’s drunk we get full on sassy elain. like she brings the attitude. don’t mess with a drunk elain cause she will end you with her words
rhys-rhys does not get drunk easily but when he does he gets hella moody. like one moment he’ll be singing karaoke and the next he’s crying over how beautiful feyre is
cassian and mor(bc they’re the same)-like feyre they’re pretty middle ground but they just keep drinking and drinking. and suddenly they’re both in x-games mode. daring each other to do the craziest shit possible. and everyone loves when it happens because it’s hilarious
azriel-he can hold his alcohol but when he gets drunk he’s weirdly poetic and kind of cuddly. he most definitely goes up to cassian and hugs him just because) like my mans turns into emily dickinson. and ofc we know he hiccups
amren-does not get drunk
lucien-depends on the day, time and mood. like if he is just going through it and wants to drown out his day in liquor then one glass of wine and bam drunk. but on others he holds his booze like a champ. lucien is definitely a calm drunk, like he’s really good at pretending to be sober. but then he’ll just say something kind of odd and ur like ah he’s drunk. but he also gives his best advice when he’s under the influence. he’s the friend who can’t handle their love life for shit but knows exactly what to say for other people. but only when he’s drunk
emerie-light weight and life of the party. once she lets go she is going to basically dance until she blacks out. then the next morning is like super embarrassed but mor absolutely adores drunk emerie
gwyn-she doesn’t drink that often but when she does she goes hard. she’s more of a middle ground when it comes to how much she can take. but once she’s drunk her competitiveness multiplies by a 100. she starts taking bets that nobody offered and simultaneously is edging everyone on especially mor and cassian because it’s super entertaining
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