#h;; Elain Archeron

[starsxblazing]

Hi! Could I request Azriel who’s mated to the youngest Archeron sister who loves their human traditions. Az finds her celebrating alone despite a whole party being set up, and learns she feels forced to attend solstice or starfall, maybe Rhys even scares her into it a bit, but when she worked hard to set up parties on human holidays, but her sisters always choose starfall? And she feels they force her to adapt to fae traditions while not even her sisters, let alone the others, even acknowledge human holidays, even though feyre said she considers both worlds her home. One that ends in a confrontation with angst would be nice, but happy ending or not is up to you, thanks.

I could have made a small series out of this ask and I really and truly enjoyed writing it. I had intended on a happy ending but this is pushing 5k words and would have taken a lot more for it. I hope it was along the lines of what you wanted!

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Cause and Effect

From the moment that you were shoved in the cauldron, your life had changed to the point that you weren’t sure what to do. It had hurt that your own sister hadn’t bothered to stop what had happened to you, Nesta, and Elain but you understood since her friend was injured. Being the youngest of all of the Archeron sisters meant that you were always looked over. Nesta had always been worried about Elain and even though you were only a year younger than Feyre, it never made any difference. 

You had always felt horrible that Feyre was the one responsible for keeping all of you fed but your sister refused to let you go with her when she hunted. There had always been an urge to help and try to make things better but as always, you were shoved to the back burner. Most human holidays were forgotten but for some reason, you remembered one in particular. No matter the fact that you tried each year to celebrate it, you were either scoffed at or told that it didn’t matter.

It was something that you held close to your heart because it brought you joy and you wanted it to do the same for your father and sisters. You were different from them in the sense that you wanted to do nothing but spread love and joy but everyone around you was too miserable to care. 

The fae had their own traditions in separate courts you had learned but that piece of you that loved your holiday felt as if it were slowly dying. It had hurt your heart to see Feyre go back to the original court that she had once wanted to go to but you stayed silent and a few feet away from your other two older sisters. Mor had all three of you in an instant as soon as she was able to and took the three of you to a home that you were unfamiliar with.

Your thoughts would linger on the injured males that had been bleeding out in Hybern’s castle as you moved between Nesta and Elain so that you weren’t alone for the three hours that passed. Neither paid you any attention which only added to the hurt. It had been a traumatizing situation for the three of you and you were all trying to cope in your own ways. It didn’t stop the fact that you wished someone would pay you some attention for once in your life. 

Mor had come back to check on all of you after a few hours and she had been the first one in years to show you some genuine kindness. She led you to a room that you would be able to call your own so that you could find your own way to cope. Once she left, giving you a small smile before she did so, you took a moment to admire where you were. The room was huge considering what you had been used to with the bed being just as big. The balcony was what caught your attention the most and you knew that you would spend the most of your time there.

You found yourself enamored with the house that you learned was called the House of Wind. Mor had been the only one that had visited over the course of two days and you reveled in the attention that you were getting, even if it wasn’t a lot. On the third day, one of the males that had been injured returned to the House to see how the three of you were doing. You were instantly entranced with how handsome that he was, especially when he gave you a gentle smile. His eyes went wide when you smiled brightly at him and he stumbled a step as if he were in shock.

**

Azriel had been concerned about the three of his High Lady’s sisters so as soon as he was healed, he made his way up to the House. Only the youngest of the sisters could be seen since she had just finished eating. As soon as their eyes met, he was unable to resist the small smile that he had given you. It wasn’t until you gave him a genuine smile that shock overtook him. The warmth of a golden thread spread through him and it was all that he could do to regain his composure.

“How are you doing?” he asked in a gentle voice as he restrained himself from touching you. 

“I’m still trying to adjust and learn what all of this means,” you answered honestly as you looked around the dining room. “It’s sort of disorienting.”

“I can only imagine.” You gave him another bright smile at his words when your attention turned back to him. “I have faith in you though.”

A small smile replaced your bright, genuine one and he wanted nothing more than to make it return even though he wasn’t sure how. The only thing that he knew was that you were his mate and he wanted to follow you around like a love-sick puppy. Throughout his eleven years of living in a cell, all that he dreamed about was having someone that loved him unconditionally and to love them in return. Even though he knew that mating bonds didn’t always work out, your smile that seemed to show a genuine kind heart had him hoping that it wouldn’t be the case. When a slight frown formed on his face was when your entire mood visibly shifted and it was all that he could feel in the air around the two of you.

“I never saw you when we went to visit your sisters,” he mused quietly, realizing also that you had never been mentioned.

“I was in my room. I didn’t- ” you sighed, your eyes glossing over in the process. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

“I think it is.” He did his best to keep the curiosity and the hint of anger from his tone. “You shouldn’t have been excluded.”

“It was my choice.” You gave him a sad smile while his heart hurt at your tear lined eyes. “I wasn't.. It’s not really worth sharing.”

“I think-”

“What are you doing?”

Nesta’s voice from the doorway had the both of you turning to look at her, her face etched into pure anger. It had you stiffening up in front of him and it had him rising to his full height while his wings tried to flare in his protective state for you. Your older sister did nothing but continue to glare at the both of you before you sighed quietly while hanging your head and shaking it slightly.

“We were just tal-”

“You don’t need to talk to her,” Nesta snapped. “She has us. Stay away from her.”

You glanced back at him with apologetic eyes before walking away from him but he noticed that you went in a completely different direction than your sister did. He almost followed you but decided against it in hopes that it would help you cope a bit better.

**

“Good morning,” you mumbled sleepily, still in your pajamas, when you entered the dining room with the male from the day before and Mor sitting at the table.

“Good morning,” Mor replied with a small smile. “We weren’t expecting you to be up so early.”

“I do rise early sometimes,” you chuckled as you took a seat beside her with the male sitting across from you. “But everything.. It’s hard to sleep now.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Mor rubbed your arm for a moment in a comforting manner. “We’re glad that you are out here with us.”

You gave her a small but sad smile, unsure of what to say. It was obvious that none of them knew about you and even though it hurt, you did your best not to show it. Feyre had mentioned to you once that the food here was delicious and now that you had a taste, you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to normal human food. The thought had you returning to the day that you had been forced into the cauldron and realized that you didn’t know anyone’s name and most importantly, how they all were doing after injuries.

“You were hurt.” You locked eyes with the hazel ones across from you. “And your friend-”

“We’re alright,” he assured, causing you to slump in relief into your seat. “Cassian’s wings are healing as we speak.”

“I’m so glad.” You gave him a bright smile before gazing at his wings momentarily. “I can’t imagine how much pain that you were in. I feel horrible that I didn’t even think to ask you last night.”

“It’s okay.” He gave you another genuine, small smile that earned a near silent gasp from the female beside her. “You have been through more than any of us can imagine.”

“I don’t even know your names,” you mumbled, choosing to ignore his reassurance since you were trying to avoid the thoughts of your own.

“You’ve met Mor.” He gestured towards the female beside you who simply rolled her eyes. “Cassian, as I said, was the one that was injured as well and Rhysand is our High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Oh.” It was hard to keep your mind from the horrible memories, the thoughts making your heart hurt even more now that you knew their names. “Have you heard from Feyre?”

“She will be alright and will be back as soon as she can,” Mor answered confidently. 

Your sister had obviously thrived since she had become High Fae and you couldn’t help but wonder if you or your other sisters would be able to do it as well even though you didn’t have much of a choice. A part of you wanted to adjust but at the same time, you were terrified of the life that you had been forced into. You were at least trying to be friendly even though Elain still refused to speak and Nesta was being her usual angry self.

You weren’t sure how to feel with everything that was going on around you but your mind began to drift back to your human life. Your favorite holiday would be arriving in a few months and you hoped that it would be something that would be accepted for the first time. Remembering that you didn’t know the male’s name, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you stingy with your name?” 

“No,” he chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated, finding that you liked how it rolled so simply off of your tongue.

He seemed to like it as well due to the smile tugging at his lips but you chose to ignore it, opting to eat what you could. You could feel his gaze on you and noticed it for yourself when you glanced from your peripheral as Mor began to tell you what Velaris had to offer.

“It sounds beautiful,” you sighed in awe.

“I could take you.” Your eyes met Azriel’s, noting that his expression was neutral even though you felt like he deeply wanted you to agree. “The city is meant to be seen at night.”

“I would expect nothing less from The City of Starlight,” you laughed, noting an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

With a nod in a silent goodbye, you went to find your sisters who were where you thought they would be. Elain was still staring out of the window with a blank stare and Nesta was in a chair in the room with her reading a book. Your oldest sister’s blank stare fell on you and since it made you feel unwelcome, you quickly left and opted to spend your day in your room. The feeling of loneliness was nothing new but it hurt even worse with the circumstances that were beginning to feel impossible to sort through. 

As the day came to a close, you searched through the new wardrobe in hopes of finding something suitable. It was as if Mor knew of your struggle because she was flitting into the room as the afternoon was coming to a close. Her help was more than welcomed since you didn’t know how to dress up for anything at all. She chose a gorgeous blue dress and fixed your hair into loose curls. It was the prettiest that you had ever felt. Azriel’s face softened when you entered the dining room where he was waiting and he guided you to the balcony.

“The House is warded against winnowing so we will have to fly,” he started gently, watching you with nearly invisible caution. “There is always the option of the ten thousand steps to the city but that would ruin your beautiful dress.”

“I’ve never flown before.” It was hard to speak and keep the shock from the simple word from your tone before eyeing his wings. “It sounds scary.”

“I promise not to drop you,” he chuckled, the noise almost inaudible.

You nodded your head and nearly gasped when he picked you up gently, the feeling contradicting his size and obvious muscles. The flight down wasn’t as scary as you expected and you knew that Azriel was doing his best to keep you comfortable. He landed you both down next to what he called the Sidra and you couldn’t help but admire the sight. Azriel followed suit when you leaned against the railing and it was then that you noticed the blue stone on the top of his hand. Your attention turned to the scars and your heart immediately ached for him.

“They are siphons,” he explained to your silent question but stiffened when you placed your hand over his and ran a thumb over his scars. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, admiring how the kind male beside you had turned out that way despite the obvious trauma that he went through before giving him a soft smile. “Oh, your siphons are too.”

He smiled brightly, the sight taking your breath away in the process. You couldn’t help but return it before he placed a hand on your lower back and guided you further into the city. Amazement of the sights sent your heart fluttering and then it warmed when Azriel let you slip your hand into his. 

**

Azriel couldn’t keep his disbelief hidden from himself when it was obvious to see that you deeply enjoyed his company. It seemed that you always found a way to gravitate towards him and a piece of him wondered if it was the unknown mating bond or if you were truly that attention starved. He always silently observed every interaction possible between you and your sisters but each one was short lived. It hurt his own heart for you since he knew what it was like to be shunned by your own family. 

He had a day planned in the city with you when Rhys called him away to help Cassian retrieve Feyre. Even though you knew nothing, you were genuinely understanding and it only made him love you more for it. His heart only hurt worse when they returned with Feyre and you were barely acknowledged. He bristled when you glanced at his High Lord with a hint of fear radiating off of you. When tears lined your eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into an empty hallway to pull you into his arms.

You melted in his embrace and silently cried for less than a handful of minutes before pulling away and wiping your eyes. If he hadn’t needed to watch Lucien, he would have taken you right then and there out to the city in hopes of lightening your mood and bringing the smile back to your face that he desperately wanted to see.

“My favorite human holiday is coming up next week,” you muttered before leaning against the wall behind you. “I wonder if they’ll celebrate it with me.”

“I would be more than happy to help with anything that you need,” he replied quietly before his heart clenched at the sight of your small smile. 

The day before the holiday, he had followed you into the city to get all of the decorations that you needed. Between the shopping that he usually didn’t enjoy doing and helping you set everything up the next morning, he was happier than he had been in a long time. Any amount of time that he got with you was highly cherished and it always seemed that you felt the same. His heart dropped at your frown when his brothers and Feyre returned. The slight scent of your fear again had him bristling but forced himself to keep his face unreadable as he watched.

“I thought that we could actually celebrate now,” you said hopefully to the High Lady. “Maybe make things feel a little more like home in a way.”

“We didn’t want to do your holiday back then and we really don’t now.”

Nesta’s words when she entered the dining room had him glaring at her when tears filled your eyes. He nearly growled in his protective nature at the sight of your oldest sister who wasn’t phased by the sight that always had his stomach turning. She left with a scoff and roll of her eyes before disappearing again. It wasn’t until Feyre gave you a half hearted apologetic smile and disappeared after Nesta did you finally run to your room.

A glare at his High Lord who knew about the bond only had him seeing red when Rhysand simply shrugged and followed after his own mate.

**

Your time with Azriel became less and less the closer that the war came. Despite taking Cassian up on his offer to train, you weren’t anywhere near close to trying to go up against the simplest of opponents. Azriel always appeared proud that you had agreed to learn to defend yourself if need be. There was always an emotion in his eyes that you could never place when your eyes met but what you did know was that you were falling in love with him. 

Even though you were worried about Elain when she was kidnapped, you couldn’t stop the hurt that hit you when you saw her in his arms. Your relief for your sister’s safety quickly changed into horror when you saw the injuries that he had received. You followed behind him quietly and stayed out of the way while he was tended to by Thesan. He would lock eyes with you every so often and give you a reassuring smile that had a tug in your heart pulling towards him.

Azriel stayed with you in your tent that night but even him holding you close against him did nothing to help you sleep. Your worry and fear ate at you about the war that would be taking place kept your heart and mind racing. Standing at the edge of the battlefield with Feyre’s new family and your sisters did nothing but refuel your terror. Hurt coursed through you to see the male that you had fallen in love with hand his dagger to Elain. You knew that you wouldn’t be anywhere near the fight as instructed.

“We will get through this,” Azriel whispered in a low voice that only you could hear when he returned to your side.

You gave a short hum in agreement but stepped away from him as heartbreak continued to swirl within you. With the shortest glance at the shadowsinger, you saw confusion and something akin to hurt on his face before he faced the battle beginning ahead of them. All that you could do was watch with tears streaming down your face and your own sobs escaping you when Feyre's pained screaming met you when it was all over.

You already knew what had happened and since you were all alone, you let yourself fall apart in the place that you had been left at and let yourself grieve for your sister. There was absolutely nothing that you could do to help anyone or anything but you had become used to it at this point in your life. Since there weren’t any other options for you, you disappeared into your tent, continuing to cry. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by before you heard the tent flaps move to find Feyre looking at you with tear-filled eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered as she began to cry and the pain in her eyes and on her face had your heart dropping. “Father- He-”

You already knew what she meant since you had seen his ships and you simply turned your back to her. A soft, pained sigh left your sister before she reluctantly left and your heart hurt even more at the fact that you didn’t know anything at all. You had truly been forgotten by everyone. All that you wanted was to be alone to try to sort through your emotions. It was already hard enough with the struggle that you were having with adjusting to your new life as High Fae but this added pain was too much.

Once you were finally able to return home, you secluded yourself into a room in the townhouse while everyone else gathered around. You wanted nothing to do with any of them but you were stuck in the court that you didn’t want to be in. Time passed in a blur and you even refused to be around Azriel despite his pained features when you told him to go away. The comfort that you had once felt around him had dissipated when you noticed his visible worry for Elain. You couldn’t blame him  because your sister had always been the most beautiful and you would choose her over you any day.

“You’re doing what now?” you asked one afternoon when Feyre cornered you when you were finished eating, silent as you always were.

“Starfall is tomorrow and we need to get you a dress,” Feyre answered, speaking as if it was obvious.

“What is ‘Starfall?’”

“A Fae tradi-”

“So you’ll celebrate the things that the Fae do but you never bothered when I planned anything?” you snapped hatefully.

Feyre simply frowned before sighing and leaving your room. You sat brooding on your balcony, enjoying the light breeze blowing past you, wondering how things had turned out how it had. Being in Fae territory became even more unbearable by the day and you were beginning to not care if humans didn’t like your kind, half heartedly planning a return to the human lands. Before you could get into your thoughts much further, someone landed on the balcony beside you. Not just anyone, but the one in the group that truly scared you.

“I hear you’re opposed to Fae holidays,” Rhys began nonchalantly. “Why-”

“I’m not participating in your stupid traditions,” you snapped, taking steps back when he took enough steps forward and had you cornered with nowhere to go.

“And why, Y/N, do you refuse?”

“Because I don’t want to!” you yelled despite the fear that you knew he could sense.

“This is what you’re going to do.” He placed a hand on the railing on each side of you, hovering too close for comfort with a stern but angry expression. “You will be there tomorrow whether you like it or not. I will not have you ruining this night for Feyre. You will not like the repercussions if you upset her on her favorite holiday.”

With that, he left you there while you shook from the fear that you had just been left in.

**

Azriel had never imagined how much it would hurt to be pushed away by his own mate. You wouldn’t talk to him or even make eye contact. It was very obvious to everyone that you were miserable and he noted that depression had fully taken over you even and you always failed to conceal it when you tried. Every attempt that he made was always quickly shut down or simply ignored.

The night of Starfall, he barely saw you. You stood by yourself, refusing to speak to anyone that tried to engage in conversation with you by a half hearted smile. When he noticed that you disappeared, he followed your scent down the hall towards your room where he knew that you would be. His knock went unanswered but he let himself in anyway since the door wasn’t locked. He noted that your room was half decorated with the human holiday that you loved while you stood against the balcony in a simple dress that replaced your previous one.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly, bracing himself to be told to leave.

“No.” Your answer was short and clipped but you didn’t bother to look at him as you continued to watch the sight of Starfall. “No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Why am I being forced to participate in something that I don’t want to be a part of?” you asked and he heard the anger beginning to fill your tone. “They were never a part of the one simple holiday that I tried to get them to enjoy. All that I wanted was to spread some joy in the crappy situation that we were in and even now, they still refuse to acknowledge it.”

“You didn’t have to join if you didn’t want to,” he assured gently, placing a hand over yours.

“Yes, I did,” you scoffed, causing him to raise an eyebrow in silent question. “Your oh so wonderful High Lord insisted. As a matter of fact, he threatened repercussions if I messed up wonderful Feyre’s favorite Fae tradition. I was forced to become a High Fae and now I’m being forced into traditions that I now want no part of.”

“Rhys did what?” he asked, his voice low with anger that was directed towards his brother.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore.” You went silent for only a moment before anger began to roll off of you. “You know what? It does matter. I will not allow them to walk all over me anymore.”

Azriel followed you in a hurry, hoping to do damage control when it was needed. All eyes fell on you when you stormed directly into the party. As if sensing your anger, Feyre’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. When you got too close, Rhysand gave him a stern glare in silent warning so he caught you around the waist to keep you in one spot.

“You are a shitty sister!” you snapped loudly, turning all eyes on you.

“What-”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to talk or ask questions.” He kept you in place despite your struggling as Elain moved beside the High Lady. “Both you have done nothing but shove me to the very back of your minds! Left me on the back burner! You didn’t even bother telling me that our father was dead until everyone was settled comfortably back in the camp!”

“We’re really sorry, Y/N-”

“You’re just as bad!” His arm tightened around you, pulling your back to his front when you began shaking in anger. “All that all of you have done was forget about me! None of your little ‘family’ even knew I existed! And even though you always disregarded my holiday that was always meant to lighten our troubles, your precious High Lord threatened me to participate in your stupid Fae traditions!”

Azriel’s eyes went wide with all of the information that you had just unleashed for everyone to hear. Even though everyone was staring at the confrontation with gaping mouths, he kept his attention on Rhysand who was trying to keep his power in check from his anger due to his own mate’s tears.

“Get your mate out of my city, Azriel,” Rhys ordered, the secret now revealed causing you to stiffen.

“What the hell is he talking about?” you asked, jerking out of his grip and shoving him harshly in the chest.

“I wanted to tell you but with everythi-”

“Oh no,” you chuckled darkly, tears now flowing freely down your face. “Yet another Fae tradition that I just have to deal with.”

“You don’t have to,” Azriel tried, desperation filling him just as much as his anger at his High Lord. “You-”

“Get away from me,” you snapped, backing away from him towards the door to the steps. “I’ll take care of myself just like I always have.”

With that, you darted for the door while he was left standing there in shock before the heartache took over him.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen 

@hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademejoin

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar

[violetasteracademic]

Azriel x Elain Bonus Chapter vs. Nesta x Cassian Bonus Chapter

Hello friends! What a lovely day for another text based side by side comparison. Today we are focusing on the parallels between Nesta and Cassian in their bonus chapter and Azriel and Elain in Az's bonus chapter.

The Nesta and Cassian bonus chapter has been published by Bloomsbury and easily found with a quick google search! It is called Wings and Embers.

This is in response to a comment I received on my TikTok video where I shared the same slides as my previous post comparing Mor and Az to Elain and Az, which is that Azriel only lusts after Elain. I could write a dissertation on the depth and slow development of their friendship and deep connection (Azriel staying up until three am listening to her plans for the garden, Azriel body checking Feyre out of the way so he could be the first to wish Elain a Happy Solstice, Azriel helping her with those cute potatoes and setting the table for dinner, his shadows preparing to strike when Elain's character is insulted and called boring [lol it's almost as if Sarah hears the negative things readers say about a character she loves] and so on.) but the easiest way to tackle the *lust* issue is to take a peek at the bonus chapters side by side.

Wings and Embers:

That is a h*rny man. Violently h*rny.

Nesta, in response to her own h*rniness, literally thinks Cassian has used faerie magic on her to make her feel things. Teehee. Cassian is also worried over how insane he is acting, how making a move on Nesta could disrupt the delicate balance of the inner circle.

There are reasons to not move forward with this mutual pull they feel to literally rip each other's clothes off in that exact moment, and it ends without them giving in to the desire to kiss.

Now let's compare to Azriel and Elain:

Breath catching, hands shaking, secret gifts exchanged in the dead of night.

They are going farther than they have ever gone after more than a year of brushing fingers and exchanging looks.

He is having some steamy thoughts, and her arousal drifts up to him. It is 100% mutual!

Both bat boys are described in their respective bonus chapters as thinking it was wrong or stupid to be making a move on one of the Archeron sisters, and not caring:

And both are described as being willing to beg on their knees:

I think what we are seeing here is an indication of the theme and tone for the upcoming romance. Cassian and Nesta are fiery fighters, with a million reasons why they should avoid their feelings. Azriel and Elain are full of quiet dreaming and angst and pining, with a million obstacles in their way.

But every character, in their own way, is struggling to control their desire.

Ultimately, bonus chapters are just that: bonuses. You don't have to read Cassian and Nesta's bonus to get an understanding of the relationship between them and the tone of their romance, nor is a bonus needed to understand the dynamic between Azriel and Elain.

I love Gwyn and am not discounting her presence in the bonus, of course I think most of us on the Elriel side simply perceive it is an additional show of her hidden powers. I am NOT team evil Gwyn, but we have already seen Koschei use Eris to lure Cassian and Azriel near to the crown to gain control over them. If Gwyn does have hidden lightsinger powers and she were to be put under the control of the Crown, she is a perfect character for Koschei to get his hands on as well to be used for luring purposes. This is reflected outside of the bonus chapters as well, with Nesta's powers having a reaction to Gwyn. It is not only seen in the BC, it's an *extra* moment. Gwyn is going to play a role in something, I have no doubt!

Gwyn also was in proximity to a piece of the cauldron for many years of her life, and only characters who are made or bearing made objects (Nesta and Azriel) are having these reactions to her. I think that will prove relevant.

I hope you all enjoy, and happy waiting patiently (or impatiently) for the book announcement!

#elriel #pro elain #pro elain archeron #elain x azriel #elriel endgame #elriel supremacy

[danikamariewrites]

imagine dark reader who is azriels sister x lucien, she is possessive and obssesed with lucien and has plotted her way into his life. From the second she lied her eyes on him when he and feyre came to velaris she knew she had to have him no matter what. reader goes to great lenghts to make sure nothing stands between her and her precious lucien. She pushes elain towards her brother and slides in comments about how they make a great couple and that the mating bond isn’t really a big deal. She cringes while she says it bc she would kill for a mating bond with lucien, and cannot stand how elain is ignoring him. it enrages reader so much but also pleases her bc now she has him all to her self. Now lucien turns to reader for comfort and ofc reader gives him just what he needs. when they share their first night, she almost doesn’t let him leave their bed, she knows how charming he can be and the thought of someone being on the recieving end is nauseating. and anytime she hears the ic says something sbout lucien she defends him to no end, even with him there, she almost lets her mask slip, she calls mor out calmly when mor says something mean about him being there for starfall. still the next day someone broke into mors house and ruined all her dresses. no one knows who did it👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

please you would write this so good, like i’ve read through everything you’ve written. pls i’m so desperate for lucien being protected, i’d pay so much money for s fic. literally like do you take comissions??? i’d pay frrrrr

Fox Hunter

Lucien x Az’s sister!reader

A/n: As soon as I saw this I put my glasses on and opened my laptop. I love evrything about this and loved writing it. And thank you very much for reading all my stuff and liking it anon, that means a lot.

on the topic of commisions (it's been on my brain for a while), I have been thinking about setting something up to do them for a while now. So if that's something you guys are interested in let me know. I'll probably do a poll or something.

Warnings: dark!reader, manipulation, Elain slander, suggestive

When he stepped through the front door of the Town House for the first time I swear I stopped breathing. Though he was caked in dirt and tired looking, the seventh son of the Autumn High Lord had to be the most beautiful male I had ever seen.

His that tan skin glowed under the Fae lights. The scar over his eye gave him a handsome, rugged look. And that golden eye. Oh how entrancing that golden eye is.

It simply broke my heart when I found out he is mated to the middle Archeron sister. But Elain is a shell of a female now. It would be easy to dissuade her from accepting the bond.

Truthfully, I am jealous of the girl. Jealous and angry. She has one of the most beautiful males in Prythian willing to throw himself at her feet, and she will not give him a second of her time.

I watched as they sat together for the first time. How she reacted when he tugged on the bond. Elain was angry. I couldn't imagine being angry.

I placed my hand over my heart. Hoping against the Mother, the Cauldron, and the Gods that they made a mistake. That I would feel the tug in my chest for him.

I noticed the small glances she and my brother share. Azriel seemed so intent on keeping her from Lucien. Good.

If he kept Elain for himself I could keep Lucien. Another easy task. Azriel is desperate for love. They will not be hard to manipulate.

Lucien broke my heart again when he left for the Continent. I know it is necessary for the coming war, but it didn't hurt any less. I had made sure to say goodbye to him. To wish him well on his journey.

He seemed happy that someone in the court was treating him with kindness. Lucien had kissed my hand, thanking me and asked me to be safe as well. It took all of my power not to lose my composure in front of him.

After the war, after everything with Nesta, life calmed down. It has pained me to wait this long to truly set my plan into action. But good things take time.

I had made sure to spend time with Elain all these months. To gain her trust and show her friendship. "I must admit," She said to me, one afternoon in the garden. "I was afraid of you at first. You and Azriel were so simialr with your silence. Then you opened up to me and I'm so happy to have a friend like you, y/n."

I smiled at her. Although it was fake part of it felt real.

"I'm happy to have you as well, Elain. You can bring anyone out of their shell I'm sure." I smile at her from the stone bench I'm perched on. My wings spread a little to soak up the sunshine. "Well, not everyone." Elain says solemnly, looking back at her tulips.

I gently place a hand on her shoulder, "Keep trying with him Elain. I can tell Azriel is in love with you. You see the way he looks at you, yeah? There's no denying it."

Elain looks back up at me with those hopeful, doe eyes. "You think so?" "I know so." Happiness flashes across her face for a moment. Then she goes back to that somber look.

That look drives me crazy. Elain needs to stop feeling sorry for herself. It's not cute and it is driving me crazy.

"But what about Lucien...and the mating bond?" And there was what I was waiting for. "Your sisters, Rhysand, and Cassian make out to be this glorious thing. For them it may be that way. But you get to decide to do with yours.

"Do you feel connected to Lucien?" She shakes her no. "Do you feel the need to be close to him? To have him hold you?" She shakes her head again.

"Then the mating bond doesn't matter. Reject it of you must, but follow your heart, Elain. Not tradition." The fool smiled up at me again. Standing, she wrapped her arms around my neck tightly. "Thank you, y/n." I hugged her back for the theatrics of it all.

I watched as she scurried off inside. Most likely to fling herself at Azriel. It did hurt a little, telling her to break the bond. If someone had said that to me I'd most likely slit their throat.

The mating bond was something I had longed for since I was a little girl.

I had never had many friends or lovers growing up. It was just me and Azriel in that dungeon for most of our lives. And if we hadn't met Rhys I would be without wings.

When we got older I watched as Azriel had females fling themselves at him. While many of the males in Windhaven showed their intrest in me, I did not return the sentiment. I knew those relationships would never go anywhere.

So, I'd stick around for the fun they'd offer for a week and move on to the next. None of those males ever excited me the way Lucien did. Never made me feel love.

A few weeks later Lucien was back in Velaris. Rhys had sent him to the human lands for emissary duties. I made sure to ask him to lunch before the rest of the Inner Circle tortured him with their questions and scared him off.

We went to a nice restaurant with a view of the Sidra. Lucien pulled my chair out for me like the gentleman he is. Before sitting I gave him a small peck on the cheek. Holding his smooth face in my rough hand.

I could've swore I saw the corners of his lips twitch and his cheeks turn red. I bit my lip, taking my seat.

As Lucien sat across from me we fell into easy conversation. Mother above, he's just so perfect. And charming. Any female would be lucky to have him. And that female would be me.

A lull settles between us and I sip on my water. Lucien clears his throat and I meet his gaze. "Elain has asked to meet with me." His tone changed to serious, leaving the playfulness I love so much behind.

"Do you know why?" I ask, my tone coming out more clipped than I meant. "I have a feeling it's about the bond. I know her and Azriel have been...together." He said that last part like he could feel it. I could sense his discomfort.

I hated that look in his eye. That look of feeling unwanted. I had seen it in my own eyes so many times as I stared at my reflection. I reach across the table to hold his hand with both of mine.

"You deserve love Lucien. If she doesn't see how hard you have been trying for her then she doesn't deserve you. I want to see you happy, fox." He gave me a loving smile at his nickname. "Thank you, little bat. You have always shown me kindness when you family hasn't. I love that about you."

Love. My heart fluttered at the word falling from his lips. It sounds so right. I want him to tell me he loves me. Tell me he'll do anything for me like I would for him.

That night, my fox came to the Town House. I had taken it over since Rhys and Feyre moved to the River House. It was empty and quiet here.

Opening the door I saw the distraught look on Lucien's face. I felt a pang in my chest. I had caused this for him. I have to stop this feeling. Have to make him better. "Lucien," I breathed out, "come in."

I drag him over to the couch and sit next to him. We're so close our thighs are touching. I drape a wing around his back for extra comfort. "What is it, fox?"

Lucien takes a deep, shuddering breath. "We broke the bond." I want to breathe out a sigh of relief, but I have to keep the facade up. "Oh Lucien, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the pain you're going through."

He looks at me with a pained smile, taking my hand in his, desperately kissing my knuckles. "I am hurting, yes. But Elain made realize something." I held my breath. I could feel my eyes going wide. Could this be it? Could all the work I had planned to do already be done for me by that little fool I call a friend?

"The love I have been searching for has been in front of me all along. I was never meant to be with her." Lucien slide off the couch onto his knees in front of me. My hands still trapped in his. "I love you, y/n. And I curse the Mother and the Cauldron for not putting us together. I need you little bat. I cannot bear another moment without you."

I am frozen in shock by his declaration of love. All this time I thought it would be me on my knees before him. Telling him sweet nothings and saying how we belong together. This is all I needed to hear from him.

Before anything can change I grab Lucien's face, my lips colliding with his in a heated kiss. It's all teeth and tongue. Want and desire. Lucien pulls me to his chest, holding the back of my head.

"Take me upstairs fox. Show me how much you love me." I whisper against his lips. Lucien stands, holding me by my thighs. I wrap my legs around him. I feel his hard cock pressing against my core and grind against him letting out a moan.

Lucien gently places me on the bed, careful of my wings. We undress together. Baring ourselves to each other. Feeling a bond that should've been ours.

The next morning I lay awake staring at Lucien's sleeping form. I trace his scar a few times and play with the ends of his hair that are splayed on the pillow. As his eyes slowly open he sends me a smirk. "Morning my love." Gods I want to keep him like this so I can hear his morning voice forever. It's gravely and deep, sending heat straight to my core.

"Good morning, fox. How are you feeling." Lucien thinks for a moment. "Hurting still. But I feel better with you." My smile widens. It feels genuine this time, it almost brings tears to my eyes.

Lucien moves to get up. My hand flys to grip his bicep, pulling him backdown to the mattress with all my strength. "No," I practically yell. "Stay with me? Let's stay here all day and rest." He lightly kisses my lips and pulls me to lay on his chest. "Ok little bat," he whispers.

We lay in a comfortable silence together. We trace patterns on each others bare skin until I ask, "Lucien, I know things have changed now but I need to know," My heart is pounding so hard. I hate to ask him this but I need him to feel in charge, like he wants me and I need him.

I look up at him as I force tears to line my eyes. "Are we...please say I'm yours now." His lips form a sweet pout I want to kiss. Lucien squeezes me to his body, placing a chaste kiss to my forehead. "There is no one else in this world for me. I love you, y/n. Last night was just the first of many. We have a life time ahead of us together and I don't plan on wasting another moment of it without you."

I cradle his cheek in the palm of my hand. "I love you too, Lucien. And I never want to be without you either."

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien smut #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vandaddy #lucien

[born-to-riot]

I Know What You Need

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 7 (Free Day)

Summary: Amren comes up with an unorthodox solution to one of Nesta's problems....and by unorthodox I mean Amren and Varian invite Nesta to share their bed for the night.

[This all was inspired by a message I sent @acourtofladydeath that said: I think there is a sore lack of vamren in the community and shall I fix that by having them invite a third? Shall it be Nesta? Shall Amren show her how to harness her potential by taking it out on a needy overstimulated Varian?]

Found on AO3

What I Want.

Chapter 1 of 2

Looking back, Nesta isn’t quite sure how she found herself in this situation. Well actually that’s a lie, she thinks.  Nesta shifts her weight to her other leg and releases a sigh as she tightens her bun for what feels like the umpteenth time. She has been standing outside the door of Amren’s apartament in Velaris for Cauldron knows how long, afraid to knock. 

In truth, Nesta knows exactly how she ended up accepting her mentor and friend’s shocking proposal. It does not necessarily erase the thin but ever-so-present shroud of guilt and mortification hovering about her. 

“You’re here for a reason.” Nesta quietly reminds herself, keeping her blue-gray eyes locked on the unopened door in front of her. 

In a thin, black  robe, Nesta Archeron stands tall. Made ornate by the roses and thorns sewn into the neck line, the silk clings tightly to her skin. Amren had asked–or actually she more so demanded–that Nesta arrive here tonight dressed minimally, so she had. As she, Amren, and Varian have all gone over several times prior to tonight, the scene will start as soon as the tiny fae opens the door. 

“It might help if I knock on it first.” Nesta murmurs to herself.

It's been six months since the end of the war with Hybern and to be honest, Nesta has not been in the best place with her mind, her friends, or with her power. She’s not even going to start on the whole weird connection she feels with Cassian. The male has been super frustrating as of late and honestly, all Nesta wants to do anytime he comes near her is punch him in the face. More pertinent to the present matter at hand, Nesta feels like she’s been swept into a world she wasn’t ready to understand and placed into a body that she doesn’t fully know. She wishes she could take this transition in stride like Feyre. Recently, even Elain is doing better than she is. But instead Nesta feels like she is shriveling down to a fragment of herself, cowering under the weight of the unknown, from the fear of what has already happened, and the terror of what is coming next. 

But alas, Amren has offered a possible solution, albeit an unorthodox one, to address some of her problems and Nesta would be foolish to deny this opportunity as not only it is much better than bedding random males every night, but also she is hopeful that she will be able to feel whole again after tonight. 

“Come on, Nesta,” she tells herself, “Still, she refuses to acknowledge that her hand is most definitely shaking as she slowly raises it in preparation to knock on the red-painted door that stands between her and something that she knows she will never be able to come back from. 

Nesta has to remind herself to keep breathing when the door swings open in front of her, her hand still raised in front of the now empty space. Not even a millisecond later, Amren appears in the doorframe, clad in sheer white oversized button down shirt, which–if Nesta wasn’t too busy attempting to stop her jaw from literally dropping at the mesmerizing sight of Amren’s elaborate lingerie set peaking through the frame provided by the unbuttoned shirt–she’d put her money on it being Varians. She doesn’t spend too much time pondering that thought, however, as Nesta is also currently trying to remedy the usual image of the harem-pants-wearing and fear-inducing tiny gremlin of a fae with the ethereal vision in front of her currently. 

Amren is intimidating enough on her own; however, the additional height of her thigh-high seven-inch platforms brings her just a couple inches shy of Nesta’s own height and the closeness of her ancient silver hues makes Nesta’s heart start racing even faster. As Amren clearly is taking her time in assessing Nesta, she takes her own time to try to decide if she wants to top or be topped by the little fae in front of her. 

Nesta isn’t reluctant to admit that she has not ever spent much time thinking about Amren’s breasts other than the fact that they were small. Now though, as she sees them held in an overbust mesh black steel boned corset, she can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like in her palms. Nesta also hasn’t given too much thought to women before in regards to the matter of sexual preference. In her defense, when she was still human she was mostly surrounded with women that were either related to her or were members of the blasted ‘children of the blessed’. She supposes she will have to be thankful that the whole ‘being dunked in a magical cauldron against her will by an egomaniac’ ordeal has allowed her to explore a wider avenue of carnal opportunities than she ever could have imagined. At that line of thought her traitorous brain and heart work together to form an image of a certain large red-siphoned Illyrian male and Nesta quickly shuts that down. Tonight is not about him, she reassures herself, it's about her. 

Fortunately, there is something about Amren’s ancient aura combined with her ‘wiser than thou’ attitude that Nesta finds infuriating but at the same time inexplicably attractive. Amren lets out a purposefully audible sigh, shifting her weight onto her other leg and placing her black fingerless glove covered arms on her hip–barely visible past the rolled-up sleeves of Varian’s shirt. Still, the movement draws Nesta’s attention to the many rings on her finger–unsurprising–and the tiny fae’s manicure, her nails filed to such sharp tips they appeared to be claws. Not only that, but the movement adjusts the oversized shirt she was wearing over her lingerie set and now Nesta can’t stop the thrum of interest that rises inside of her as her eyes lock onto the bare skin of Amren’s pussy, which is on display through her crotchless mesh and lace panty. 

“You’re late,” Amren’s voice shocks Nesta out of her self-induced stupor. She immediately lifts her gaze to meet the unimpressed one evident in the other’s charcoal-lined eyes. 

She opens her mouth to speak–to try and come up with some sort of explanation for herself–yet she finds she is unable to do anything other than audibly choke on an inhale. Nesta closes her mouth, frustrated with herself. She is smart, she is beautiful, she is the eldest of her sisters and she will be Cauldron-damned if she lets herself get flustered by Amren of all people. Nesta straightens her posture and goes to speak again, intending to say something stupid about how ‘You’re lucky I came at all’ just so she could feel more in control of the situation. However, she gets interrupted again, this time though not by her own volition, but instead at the silent raising of Amren’s hand in a ‘stop’ motion. She feels a rise of anger filling her, absolutely furious at the audacity of Amren to just hold her hand up and expect Nesta to stop speaking. How dare she? A voice hisses inside of her, one that Nesta is not too sure is entirely her own, yet she is too caught up in her inexplicable rage to care. 

“I don’t care for excuses, girl,” Amren interrupts her before Nesta even has a chance to voice her ire, rolling her eyes and stepping aside so that she can hold the door open– the action a clear invitation for Nesta to enter the premises. Nesta takes a deep breath, truly trying not to lose her cool at the elder for such a minor transgression and one that is just so quintessentially Amren. However, she nearly loses her composure again when her inner consciousness decides to remind her that ‘she does have a type.’ Nesta is fully aware that she apparently has a metaphorical hard-on for infuriatingly obnoxious assholes–the main culprit of this affliction being Cassian. However, usually, Amren is more of a smartass which keeps her away from the same category as the Ilyrian. Tonight, however, the ancient being seems to be cauldron-bent on trying to antagonize Nesta and for some forsaken reason the slight is turning her on.

Instead of falling victim to Amren’s goading, Nesta inhales the Velaris air one more time before taking a step past the threshold into Amren’s apartment. Upon her exhale, she finds herself in the same lackluster entryway she’s found herself in many times before. Amren, at least given what Nesta has observed so far in the time she’s known her, seems to prefer to save her decor for the deeper areas of the apartment–if she were to wager a guess, Nesta presumes the ancient creature would rather keep her jewels and valuables protected and hidden in contrast to Rhys and Feyre who display their wealth like a peacock does its feathers. Though, she supposes that is their right as the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. Nevertheless, Nesta still takes the time to let her eyes trail across her immediate surroundings. She recognizes the same little alcove to her left that has two emerald green club chairs on either side of a small end table as well as the rest of the entryway, the area being sparse apart from another closed door and a painting of some books. Despite the fact that she’s seen this all before, Nesta feels the hairs on her arms start to raise as her gaze finally lands on the empty hallway in front of her; she wonders if the chill in the air is a foretaste of what is to come of tonight. 

Before she has a chance to determine what side of the scale the omen leans toward, the sound of the door slamming behind her shocks Nesta back into the moment. She whips around to face Amren, who is leaning with her back against the now-shut front door, smirking up at her. While she internally reprimands her subconscious for allowing her to show her back to such a dangerous creature, Nesta would also be lying if she says she did not feel a sense of satisfaction curl within her once she realizes that even with Amren’s heels, Nesta is still taller than her. Of course, this satisfaction doesn’t last, the second Amren lets her grin fall off her face and takes a step forward, Nesta feels as if a veil has lifted from her view, revealing the ethereal being in front of her. Everyone in Prythian knows that Amren is an otherworldly creature, full of knowledge and power. Nesta regrets to think that she thought Amren would somehow become less than she once was after she lost her power in the Cauldron all those months ago. 

“This is your last chance to back out girl,” Amren says seriously, pure silver locked on gray blue, gazing into her eyes so directly Nesta almost feels as if Amren is able to see through her. Nesta is still trying to take in the sight of Amren’s silky black hair framing her sharp jaw-line, her small but supple tits barely visible but clearly evident, her tiny waist and lean muscle both obvious through the mesh and fit of her corset, the color a great contrast against her tanned skin. However, as Nesta eyes Amren’s freshly shaven cunt–the pattern of the lace on her crotchless panties perfectly framing her vulva–she feels her temperature rise with a combination of both desire and ire. Nesta doesn’t give a shit if Amren currently looks like some sort of goddess, how dare she question her surety.

“I know what I want,” Nesta narrows her eyes into a glare and straightens her posture, refusing to look away from Amren’s unusually sober stare. She understands that Amren is just concerned, but she wishes everyone would stop being so careful around her. She used to be able to rely on Amren to be the only one in her sister’s stupid fucking Inner Circle who was willing to be up-front with her.   

“It's not a question of what you want, this is a matter of what you need, girl,” Amren stalks closer to her, her eyes somehow still bright and predatory despite the dimness of the room. 

“There is nothing weak about having second thoughts,” she purrs, starting to circle around Nesta as she comes even closer, like a predator and its prey. 

“Amren,” she snaps, frustratedly, tired of her friend’s game. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be, Nesta bemoans the fact that it seems like the tiny fae truly derives some sick sense of pleasure from making everything ten times more difficult than it needs to be. 

“Patience child,” she shivers at the sound of Amren’s tongue clicking right behind her, the ancient one’s voice sounding displeased. Before Nesta can even process why the disappointment in Amren’s tone causes her heart to jolt, the press of two dangerously sharp nail tips against the back of her neck pause all of her racing thoughts. She fights the urge to flinch as the nails start to slowly drag down the remainder of her exposed spine, pressing into each vertebrae it passes.

“Don’t make a mistake. Just because I allow you to play a dominant role tonight,” the female hisses, her breath warm against Nesta’s ear, the two dangerously sharp tips of Amren’s nails focusing on the vertebrae that sits right above the collar of Nesta’s robe, she continues, “doesn’t mean I’m not still willing to put you in your place.”

The words send a shiver of delight through Nesta, the tickle of Amren’s breath against her ear sends tendrils of electricity that spread throughout her whole body. She can feel the tingles reverberate in her chest and down her arms, until they land, pooling in her breasts. Nesta’s breath hitches and she  as the indent of Amren’s nails start to shift, her nipples hardening at the drag of the claw-like sensation against the side of her throat. She doesn’t even realize that her eyes are closed until Amren releases the grip on her neck, Nesta opening her eyes to find the other in front of her with a distinctly pleased grin painting her sharp faerie features. 

“Understand?” Amren asks expectantly, slowly moving her jewel covered hand to the flimsy piece of string that is holding Nesta’s robe together, causing the more modest of the two to blush. Nesta feels a piece of her strange newly awakened inner soul start to fight at the idea of conceding to anyone. However, she notes the tantalizingly slow speed of Amren’s outstretched hand and appreciates the fact that she is purposefully giving her plenty of opportunity to reject the advance if Nesta was to wish it so. 

“Hmm?” Amren urges Nesta gently to respond, pausing her hand once it reaches its destination, tangling itself loosely in the string. As Nesta eyes Amren, she can’t help but think that this is probably the most considerate Amren will ever be of her wishes. Still, she looks at the hunger evident in Amren’s eyes, thinks about the heat filling her own body, and she knows she can’t put this off any longer. She thinks over the last couple months of angst and seclusion, about how she can barely stand to look at herself in the mirror, the flames in her eyes not feeling like her own.  It’s time she takes the next step for herself. Nesta knows what she wants–no, she knows what she needs to do now. 

“Yes Mistress, I understand,” Nesta replies, inclining her head as a sign of acceptance of Amren’s authority.

“Good girl” Nesta doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that the older’s praise gives her such a clear sense of security. However, it seems she doesn’t have much time to ponder on it further. With one swift movement Amren has rid Nesta’s robe of the tie keeping it together, the fabric falling open to reveal her bare skin underneath. 

“What a treat,” a devilish smirk plasters itself onto Amren’s face as the female eyes her up and down. She has to admit that this, revealing her naked body to her friend, is one of the parts of tonight that she has been most nervous for. Now though, Nesta can only find it in herself to feel pleased as she watches Amren hungrily take in her bare body, her unyielding silver stare seeming to pause on her ample breasts and what’s visible of her cunt. 

“You look absolutely delightful, he won’t be able to control himself,” Amren notes before turning on her heel and heading down the long hallway. Nesta is flattered and somewhat surprised that Amren said so– assuming the ‘he’ in question is Varian– Nesta’s body being a much different build than Amren’s. Nesta has been so caught up in Amren she almost is sorry to say that she might have forgotten about Varian, which is insane because Amren is quite literally letting Nesta fuck her boyfriend to help her feel normal in this new body of hers and to help her gain control of the great power that has been set loose inside her. 

“Come on, girl,” Nesta will admit she barely registers the words that are coming out of Amren’s mouth, her eyes a little busy admiring the other’s well-defined ass. She supposes it makes sense, Amren is strong not only due to her position as Rhysand’s Second in Command, but also just through reputation alone. It would make sense that Amren’s glutes would reflect such strength, which Nesta once again feels bad for presuming that someone so small wouldn’t be able to have a wonderful ass. 

“I won’t be happy if I have to repeat myself,” Amren notes, turning back to look at Nesta over her shoulder, raising a brow. Nesta quickly launches herself into motion, following the other female. As Amren comes to stop in front of one of the doors further down the way, Nesta wonders what lies behind it.

“Let the festivities begin,” Amren quips, opening the door in front of her and stepping inside. Nesta gulps as she follows behind her, not having a chance to see anything other than a dark room and the white of the shirt on Amren’s back before the other motions to her in a request to close the door behind her. Nesta turns quickly then, somehow hoping that the faster she moves the more it will lessen her nerves. As soon as she closes the door she notes that the lighting in the room dims significantly. She takes a second to inhale and exhale, clearing her mind of all of her worries, before finally deciding that she is truly ready to begin..

“What now?” Nesta asks, turning around in search of Amren. 

“Strip” Amren orders, taking the moment to also shed herself of the oversized shirt she had been wearing over her lingerie. 

Nesta takes a moment to assess her surroundings, noting that they seem to be in a walk-in closet. The only light in the room is provided by the flames of various candles throughout the many presumably empty shelves in the room, Nesta admits she hasn’t given the shelves too much attention as she is much more interested in the main focus of the room: a large ostentatious full length mirror. The mirror is absolutely gorgeous and is framed by two hanging lanterns so that whoever stands in front of it will be able to see themselves in lovely detail. So much detail that Nesta finds her nerves creeping up on her again, but she looks at Amren–waiting patiently next to the mirror for her– and slips the sleeves of her robe off her shoulders. The already-opened garment easily slides down the rest of her body and gathers in a puddle at her feet.

“Good girl,” Amren purrs, “now come over here and stand in front of this mirror for me, yeah?”

Nesta nods, trying to keep her eyes on Amren female instead of looking back at her own reflection. The air in the room chills against her now bare skin, Nesta feels the hair on her arms stand as she lessens the distance between herself and her destination. Although, as Nesta takes another step, she realizes that she is not exactly sure if the goosebumps are solely due to the cold. 

“Tell me what you see, girl,” Amren orders her, Nesta finally arriving at a standstill. She hesitates to adhere to the ancient one’s wishes, biting her lip and taking note of the fact that she finds some form of comfort in the familiar face of her friend. It is not like she is a virgin. Nesta is guilty of having taken many random fae males back to her apartment over the course of the past six months. Despite the frequency of the occurrences, Nesta finds it hard to remember anything apart from going through the expected motions. She brings the male of choice to her bed, they fuck, the male goes home, and once again she is left feeling trapped in some suspension of reality–stuck in a time that is between the past and the present, no hope for a future. 

But tonight, in this moment, in this closet, there is no denying the vulnerability that seeps through her every pore. In the candlelight Amren’s silver eyes look radiant, luminous like they were before she sacrificed herself, her power, for them all. Nesta is as guilty as the rest of the inner circle in that they all are waiting for the moment Amren breaks, that she lashes out at one of the others in jealousy, that she can’t take it anymore. But now, Amren stands in front of her more alluring than Nesta has ever found her before. The tiny fae is still leaning against the mirror frame, waiting patiently for Nesta to follow her orders. Nesta looks her up and down, once again admiring Amrens' lingerie–the combination of her heels, corset, fingerless gloves, and crotchless lace mesh panties all working well together to bring attention to her toned legs. Nesta finds herself overcome with jealousy too, that Amren could walk around her own house showing off her cunt so freely. However, she does appreciate Amren’s uncharacteristic show of patience and so Nesta nods at the elder before adhering to her wishes. She turns slightly to face herself in the mirror.

“I see myself,” Nesta answers the question without a thought. She spies Amren frowning at her response from the corner of her eye and Nesta struggles not to do the same. Respecting the process is hard when the process is asking her what she sees in a mirror, what the fuck else is she supposed to see other than her reflection? 

“Try again,” Amren says, clearly displeased. This time, Nesta doesn’t bother to hide her frown. She doesn’t know why she's trying to be polite when she’s here naked in front of Amren. Still, she swallows as she takes note of Amren’s figure entering the mirror’s field of vision, the ancient creature clearly assessing her.

“I don’t know its a fucking mirror, Amren, what else am I supposed to see?” Nesta snaps. She has never been one to hold herself back before, she doesn’t know why she should stop now. Maybe if Nesta demands some answers from Amren, then their night can get started faster.

“I will give you one warning to keep your temper in check, girl,” Amren hisses, the flickering candlelight bouncing off her naturally tanned skin as she approaches Nesta, her figure becoming larger as she gets closer to Nesta. 

“You know what you signed up for, I don’t like brats,” Amren comes to a stop just slightly behind her, Nesta is able to see her claw-like nails rhythmically tapping impatiently upon her cocked hip.

Nesta closes her eyes with a sigh. She does know what she signed up for, and if anyone knows how to deal with being shoved inside a different form it's Amren. She inhales and tries to clear her mind of all her inhibitions, she knows that in order for this to work she needs to step into it fully rather than keeping one metaphorical foot out the door. Nesta opens her eyes, looking straight into their gray-blue reflection as she decides she’s ready to try again. 

“I see…” Nesta trails off, her throat suddenly dry as the mirror confronts her with a bare body, the body that she knows is supposed to belong to her, the body that looks almost the same as it always has, the body that no longer feels like her own. A stranger.

“You see…?” Amren urges her to continue. The heat radiating from her breath tickles against Nesta’s ear, causing her nipples to tingle slightly. She pushes that thought aside though because she remembers Amren has asked her a question..

“I see….myself?” she replies less sure than before, watching her own shoulders hike up in the mirror, noting that her breasts bounce slightly with the motion. Despite the fact that she utters the same response as before, anyone who has two eyes and two working ears would be able to tell that Nesta’s tone is completely different than it was before. She stares at her reflection in the mirror. 

Nesta knows this body, she recognizes her fair skin, she recognizes her golden-brown hair–still tied up in a bun, and she recognizes her sharp jawline. Her ears are definitely different but oddly enough it doesn’t bother her, she supposes it suits her face and she still has her same long neck. As she lets her eyes trail down her reflection further she can see her arms are more toned than before. Her breasts are a tad bit bigger than when she was human too–which she chalks up to the amazing food in Prythian. In her opinion, there is nothing particularly remarkable about her stomach or legs, they are the same size and length as before. Nesta is familiar with this body, so she doesn’t know why she feels so out of place in front of this mirror.

Nesta can’t help but let her eyes focus on her least favorite part of herself: her cunt. It's not like she’s had a lot of others to compare hers to before, but she has always felt like hers was rather ugly. Nesta lets her eyes glance slightly to the right to take a peek at Amren’s cunt where it's peeking through her crotchless panties in the mirror. The ancient fae’s pussy was free of all pubic hair, her vulva looking smooth. Based on the fact that Nesta doesn’t see any signs of Amren's inner labia, she assumes that Amren is one of those lucky bitches with shorter ones. Nesta glances back to her own, her own pubic region is covered in hair in addition to her inner labia hanging down to where they are visible in her reflection. 

“Good enough,” Amren, thankfully, interrupts her negative spiral of thoughts. Nesta is also grateful that Amren accepts her answer, probably able to sense the change in Nesta’s energy. 

“On your knees!” Nesta didn’t even notice Amren move before she felt a distinct boot-like pressure on the backs of her knees, causing them to buckle. Before she even has a chance to be upset about this turn of events, she feels Amren’s hand grip the back of her neck, focusing Nesta’s attention back on both of their reflections in the mirror.

“First, we’re taking care of this pesky bun,” Nesta gasps as Amren roughly snaps the hairband she was using, yanking it out of her hair. Nesta can’t even appreciate the tickle of her golden-brown hair falling upon her shoulders, she gasps out a moan as Amren adjusts her grip to include the back of her hair, yanking it back roughly.

“Then,” she uses one of her nails to bring Nesta’s head up to face her. From this position, Nesta has a really good perspective of Amren's vulva, her dark inner labia symmetrically framed by the beautiful lace of her panties. She guesses she understands now why Amren and Varian spend so much of their time in the bedroom, if Nesta had a partner who looked like that she wouldn’t be able to stay off of them. 

“Listen to me,” Amren continues to speak, adding pressure to her grip on the back of Nesta’s neck, moving the other hand–finger still on her jaw–down to rest upon the column of her now exposed throat, “you are never going to get over this malaise of yours if you don’t acknowledge that you are more now.”

Nesta isn’t exactly sure how she’s supposed to be paying attention to anything other than the feel of Amren’s finger, the sharp edge now tracing down the line of her throat–now that Nesta can actually feel the edges of Amren’s nails, she knows that if Amren wanted she could slice through the skin of her neck with one flick of her finger. Still, Nesta tries to ignore the trail of electricity that seems to be shooting out of wherever her skin makes contact with Amren’s and instead tries to focus on the conversation that she is supposed to be participating in.

“No, I know…,” Nesta starts, the sudden absence of Amren’s grip startles her, “I know-”, she tries to continue, tracking Amren’s reflection in the mirror, the tiny fae keeping her one finger anchored in its position on Nesta’s neck while swerving behind her so that she is now standing behind Nesta’s left side. “I know that I’m… different,” Nesta finishes, trying not to flinch away from the sudden softness of Amren’s knuckle circling the area of skin around the indentation left behind by the sharp edge of her nail. 

“Different isn’t the same as bad, child,” Nesta doesn’t know why the use of the term ‘child’ suddenly bothers her, Amren is so old that it makes perfect sense why she would view all their friends as such. Yet, for some reason, the term strikes an odd cord within her, leaving behind a slight residue of ire. She doesn’t think she is in the place to complain about it now, though. Especially as she both witnesses Amren’s reflection and feels the fae move behind her, now straddling her left calf and hooking her chin over the back of Nesta’s shoulder. Her nipples harden immediately, the combination of Amren’s breath ghosting over her shoulder—breezing past the side of her neck—and of the warmth against her completely nude back transforms Nesta’s body into an oversensitive vessel. 

“I remember when I first saw you, and these,” Amren starts, her arms reaching out from behind Nesta, her tanned hands—peeking out from fingerless gloves—now taking a hold of Nesta’s breasts, “these for sure are different.”

Nesta bites back a moan as she makes eye contact with Amren through the mirror, the other fae having an almost feral grin on her face as she begins massaging Nesta’s breasts. Despite the fact that Amren’s hands are small—not able to encompass the entirety of Nesta’s rather large breasts—she makes up for it with her vigor. Amren starts rolling Nesta’s nipples between her index finger and thumb in combination with the rhythmic pressing of her other fingers, each one making contact with a pressure point Nesta didn’t even know was there.. 

“Mhmm” Nesta moans a response, unable to hold back the effect of the pleasure arising from Amren’s kneading. It feels like there is fire inside her, each roll of Amren’s fingers on her nipples causes a ripple like sensation shooting straight to her cunt, leaving a pathway of sensitivity leading straight to her steadily heating core.

“And this,” Amren says lowly, nibbling at Nesta’s left ear as she releases her grip on her right breast. Both silver and gray-blue eyes track Amren’s hand through the mirror–watching as it disappears behind Nesta’s back briefly. 

Nesta loses track of the room around her as she feels two of the pads of Amren’s fingers press ever-so-lightly against her spine between her shoulder-blades. This teasingly light touch combines with a particularly well timed squeeze of her left breast, triggering another round of the spark-like sensation inside her. Nesta tilts her head back to the right almost subconsciously, her body submitting to Amren and readily exposing her neck. She ignores the inner rage that emerges from that same deep  place as before, especially when she feels Amren’s fingers start to trail their teasingly-light touch down her spine–the fae seemingly enjoying the feel of the dips and ridges between her vertebrae as she makes her way down. 

“This is your greatest error,” Amren ghosts the words over the exposed skin of her neck, Nesta shivers at the sensation. 

“What is?” Nesta asks, she internally curses her ancient friend’s inability to refrain from sounding cryptic whenever she speaks.

“This,” Amren repeats, immediately releasing her other breast. Nesta is too confused to register the jiggle of her tit as it settles back into its place on her chest. ‘This’ still isn’t an answer, Nesta thinks. Thankfully though, she isn’t too far caught up into the ‘enigma that is Amren’ to miss the fact that Amren’s right hand is currently resting on her ass, the palm of her left hand–the one that has just released her breast–now pressing on the region of skin just above her pelvic bone. 

“How dare you deny this cunt as your own,” Amren demands. Nesta gasps as Amren moves her hand that is resting on Nesta’s ass down to cup her vulva from behind, igniting a whole new round of heat inside of her. Nesta can feel Amren’s fingers tangling themselves in her pubic hair, she can see the tips of Amren’s nails in the reflection from the mirror. 

“I-I didn’t tell you that,” Nesta stutters, the heat of Amren’s hand below making it difficult for Nesta to retrieve her thoughts, her clit throbs in anticipation and she can feel the distinct sensation of wetness starting to build up inside of her.  

“I know,” Amren smirks, Nesta making eye contact with her reflection, “But you poured your soul out into this mirror, girl. I can tell, that’s why I know exactly what I need to do to fix you.”

Nesta can’t even begin to try to wrap her head around that sentence; as soon as Nesta opens her mouth Amren presses her palm harder into Nesta’s front, causing a loud moan to escape her lips instead of whatever it was she intended to say as the added pressure discharges quivers of pleasure straight to her clit. Nesta is beginning to get the feeling that Amren enjoys making her speechless. 

“And w-what’s that?” she manages to ask, truly desperate to know how Amren is going to fix Nesta’s fractured soul.

“How about you stop asking questions so that I can show you,” Amren replies instead of answering, Nesta pauses, noting that this is the first time tonight that Amren has sounded anything close to borderline impatient. Amren relaxes the pressure on Nesta’s front, seemingly waiting for the younger to respond before she continues. 

Nesta quickly pushes aside the massive amounts of lust that are coursing through her body at the moment and instead makes eye contact with Amren again through their reflections. 

“Yes Mistress, I apologize,” Nesta says dutifully, only feeling slightly bad that she irritated Amren. Still, she knows she made the right move as Nesta spies Amren’s shoulders relaxing as she rehooks her chin over Nesta’s left shoulder.

“Good girl,” she praises. Nesta watches Amren’s eyes flash before she starts moving her left hand up and down Nesta’s stomach. Nesta can do nothing but swallow as Amren starts to move her right hand. 

“Now, are you seriously trying to tell me that these don’t belong to you?” Amren hisses. Nesta jolts as she feels Amren grip the lips of her inner labia, slowly rolling them between her fingers.

“These are nice, full, begging for attention, why do you hate them?”

“I don’t-” Nesta tries to start.

“Don’t lie to me,” Amren cuts her off, igniting another distant unfamiliar rage inside Nesta, one that she does not completely understand. As it seems to keep happening tonight, Amren doesn’t give her a chance to respond as Amren places a particularly strong tug on her inner labia, pulling the lips down before releasing them, the sound of Nesta’s wetness subsequently echoing in the quiet tiny room.

Amren forms two of her fingers into a V, pressing them just outside the area surrounding her clit before she starts massaging the area in a circular motion.

“Fuck.” Nesta whimpers, Amren’s teasing is absolutely agonizing. Nesta’s clit throbs, with the other’s fingers so close, it can’t help but send pulses of need throughout Nesta’s body in time with each move of Amren’s fingers around it. 

“I need you to understand that this power of yours is not something you should be afraid of,” Amren stops the circular motions and instead presses two fingers directly onto her clit through its hood. Nesta swears the pleasure is so intense, it feels as if a fire is rising inside of her. The base of it originates from her core, the smoke rising up to keep the rest of her upper body warm too.  

“It wants to work with you,” Amren lets out a gasp as she starts to grind her own pussy down on Nesta’s leg which she has been stradling this whole time. Nesta bites her lip as she feels the moist beginnings of Amren’s own juices impressing upon her calf. The fingers of Amren’s right hand aren't moving, instead they keep a constant thread of pressure on her clit. Nesta’s poor clit, she can tell it’s desperate for attention, it sends constant pulses as if it is asking her to move to give it some sort of relief from all the stimulation Amren is providing.

Nesta watches Amren through the mirror. She can both see and feel Amren’s right hand splaying out across her stomach, using it for balance as she grinds against her calf and uses her other hand to attend to Nesta’s cunt. Despite the impressive multitasking that Amren already has going on, Nesta notices Amren’s assessing silver gaze is locked on her own, as if Amren is waiting for her to realize something. 

What though? Nesta wants to ask, but she refrains because she knows Amren won’t take it well. But how the fuck is she supposed to know what Amren wants? Amren is older than Prythian itself and Nesta has been High Fae for less than a year. All Nesta knows is that she is more turned on than she has ever been in her entire life, sitting completely in the nude between a mirror and the scantily dressed body of one of the people she feels the most comfortable around lately–which in itself is saying something as it is Amren she is talking about. 

“Look inside yourself,” Amren says as she slows the pace of her gyrations, “can’t you feel that you’re not alone?”

Nesta lets out another moan, closing her eyes as Amren starts driving the fingers that have been fixed on Nesta’s clit around, dragging her clit into a circular path. This, of course, causes Nesta’s hips to jerk into the motion, chasing after the pleasure. She also tries to decipher what exactly Amren means with her statement that ‘she’s not alone.’

It is quite hard to do so though when she feels like there’s a sweltering heat inside her body, begging for escape. Nesta has been horny before, she knows what it feels like. Cauldron knows that she has been a victim of it tonight. Fortunately, thanks to the overstimulation that Amren is so happily providing, Nesta is able to take a deeper look at what’s going on inside of her. 

Nesta closes her eyes, trying to center herself past the pleasure that’s overwhelming her senses. As she inhales, she ignores the rocking of Amren’s pussy back and forth on her calf, she ignores the sting of her painfully hard nipples, she ignores the rhythmic squelching coming from her own pussy as Amren’s hand keeps her lips in motion and pressure on her clit, Nesta ignores it all. As she channels into her soul, deep inside her, Nesta realizes that Amren is right, once again, she is clearly not alone. 

It’s a hard thing to describe, a soul. Nesta certainly isn’t expecting to find hers feeling like it's coated in some sort of substance similar to live-wire. It definitely seems to be working in overload–constricted behind some sort of mental block–the area around it seems electrically charged. She tries to paint a mental picture of it, of this charged substance locked deep inside her persona. Nesta thinks it could best be described as a worn steel cage that just barely contains a ball of pure energy. For some reason, Nesta’s gets a sudden feeling if something other than her tries to reach out for it, this hidden piece of her soul, fire would lash out through the holes in the cage, almost like an intentional solar flare. She mentally reaches towards it, trying to catch a read of it–and inwardly gasps as she realizes she recognizes it. 

“By the Cauldron,” Nesta gasps, coming back to the present with a jolt, the shock of her realization causing her to sit back on her calves–a space in which she notices Amren is no longer occupying–not being able to kneel properly any longer. She’s definitely sweating, she can feel its sheen gathering upon every inch of her body.

As she struggles to catch her breath, Nesta remembers something that Amren had said when she first was explaining the benefits of this whole ordeal to Nesta.

“Every being in this world has the potential for magic, child. Even some humans if they so chose to tap into that part of themselves. Its residue lies along the lines of the needs that unite all living creatures in all the worlds–eat, sleep, fuck. Your walls have been built too high, girl. It’s time we break them down.”

“Don’t you see now?” Nesta snaps her attention towards Amren, the female now standing, pressing her weight against the side of the mirror–one heeled boot crossed over the other–and inspecting the nails of her right hand, the one which had just been intimately involved with Nesta’s folds. 

Nesta decides to ignore the fact that she has no idea when Amren even left her prior position behind her. She’s so close to understanding what’s going on with her, she can taste it. She doesn’t even care that Amren stopped touching her right before she would have most definitely orgasmed–well, she does a little… a lot, but gaining control of herself and her power is much more important, she reminds herself.

“It’s my magic…” Nesta breathes, moving her hands to the floor behind her to support her weight. 

“It’s my…” Nesta trails off, noticing her own flushed appearance in the mirror.

“Yes,” Amren answers, redirecting Nesta’s attention back towards her, “it’s You, girl.”

This time, Nesta’s ire in response to Amren’s addressment of her is much more palpable, she can feel it crawling under her skin. How dare she, her inner voice speaks, louder than ever before.

“And Nesta,” Amren calls and Nesta turns her attention back towards her immediately, shock coloring her cheeks further. She can count the times that Amren has used her actual name on one hand. 

“Yes?” she asks before she has a chance to take the vision of her in, heart freezing as she registers what Amren is actually doing. 

Amren, still radiant in her lingerie, isn’t even looking at Nesta. Instead, she has her eyes closed, head tilted back against the edge of the mirror frame, and is actively humming. Nesta can do nothing but watch as Amren lifts her index and middle fingers–the ones belonging to the hand that the female had been inspecting previously–and brings it to her plump red lips.

Amren opens her eyes then, and Nesta once again finds herself trapped in the other’s primordial gaze. Amren moans again as she pushes them past her lips, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks on the digits before pulling them out–the action releasing a wet popping sound that seems very loud in the tiny room, the only other sound being Nesta’s increasingly rapid breathing.

“It tastes good,” Amren replies simply, as if she didn’t just do one of the sexiest things Nesta has ever witnessed, “you, taste good.”

“I’ll be right back,” Amren says, disappearing behind the mirror–the one that is so large that Nesta didn’t even know the closet extended further behind it until just now. She doesn’t really care about her abrupt departure though, not when Amren’s words have just launched her into what feels like a state of estrus. 

There is a new wave of boiling heat inside of her. Nesta knows that this heat is different, it almost stings yet it is somehow still satisfying, it’s comforting, and it vibrates against seemingly every possible organ inside her body. She can do nothing but gasp as she feels her magic finally free itself from its steel trap. This power, her power feels just right inside her veins, like her heart needs it just as much as it needs oxygen. 

It’s about time, the magic chides her, and Nesta is overcome by feelings of regret. How could she have denied this part of herself for so long. She understands why Amren was so insistent upon helping her now, why she had been so disappointed in her. Nesta clutches her breast to try to ground herself as she feels her soul reuniting with her heart underneath the skin. 

Of course though, the serene moment is broken by Amren who throws a pile of clothes at her face, breaking Nesta from her trance. This time, Nesta is ready to snap at Amren, in sync with her newly awakened power. 

“Now stand up!” Amren orders. Nesta tries not to let her temper get the best of her as she slowly rises, still able to feel the other’s wetness from where it leaked against her calf. Amren speaks again before Nesta actually has a chance to rip her head off, though.

“Put this on, this is taking a little longer than I was initially anticipating,” Amren says before she promptly disappears behind the mirror yet again. Nesta’s inner irritation quickly dims as she notes a slight tinge of concern dimming Amren’s usually confident eyes. Nesta remembers then, she and Amren are not the only two participants of tonight’s activities. Where exactly is Varian? Nesta wants to find out.

She quickly puts on the clothes that Amren picks out for her and slips her feet into an expensive looking pair of black stilettos. As she starts to turn around so that she can get a good look at herself in the mirror, Nesta can’t help but ponder about how the hell Amren knows her shoe size. She assumes the tiny fae must have bullied Azriel or someone into finding out the correct size instead of just asking Nesta outright, which actually sounds like a very ‘Amren-type-thing’ to do now that she thinks about it.

Nesta’s jaw drops as she comes face-to-face with her reflection. Amren has dressed her in a black wet-look teddy which features a low cut open bust, a criss cross neck, gold zip up front, cut out sides, criss cross back straps with O-ring details, a tie back, and a cheeky cut bottom. The way the teddy sits on her emphasizes all her curves in the best way possible, Nesta thinks as she raises her arms to adjust her hair. There is no hiding the monstrous size of her breasts with this low cut open bust. There is a perfect path of bare skin that travels from between her tits down to the visible zipper of the front. Fuck, Nesta thinks as she shifts slightly to see the back of the teddy, she looks delicious. The realization causes the already blistering temperature inside of her to somehow elevate even more. 

“If you’re finished getting dressed, come back here!” she hears Amren call from behind the mirror. With the added height provided by Nesta’s heels, she is sure that the size difference between the two females will return to the usual. Still, Amren’s presence is so strong and foreboding–especially tonight–that Nesta would rather die than point this out to her friend. Still, Nesta follows Amren’s order without question and feels a gasp escape her lips as she steps past the edge of the frame which Amren has been hanging around all night. 

“Oh my,” Nesta can’t help but say as she takes another step into the hidden part of the closet that she and Amren have been spending so much time in this evening. Lining each and every single shelf in front of her is the widest variety of sex toys that Nesta has ever seen. She always suspected that Amren was a hoarder, however, when she first formed that suspicion Nesta was thinking more along the lines of jewelry. She is not entirely sure what she should make of the display of dildos, paddles, chains, straps, vibrators, and plenty more in front of her. 

“Wha-How long have you been collecting all of this?” Nesta asks, unable to stop herself. She turns towards Armen who has been waiting for her, leaning against the only wall in this little hidden area without any shelfs occupying it.

“I’ve been alive a long time,” Amren replies, mirth filling her gaze. Nesta considers that to be a fair response.

“Anyway,” Amren starts, pushing herself off of the wall and strutting forward until she stops right in front of Nesta, “pick what calls to you, girl.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta asks for clarity while trying to keep her inner beast in-check. Nesta doesn’t even know where to begin. However, she remembers that this isn’t her first time racking her mind to try to find something that Amren has told her to, Nesta thinks back to when she was trying to feel out the location of the Ouroboros. She also ignores the utter ridiculousness of Amren’s request, does she really want Nesta to tap into this great power of hers just to find the perfect sex toy? One thing she has learned throughout her relatively short time being friends with Amren is that the other female always has her reasons. Nesta supposes she will try to do as she’s asked.

“It’s quite simple. Your magic is awake now, let it guide you,” Amren coos before brushing past Nesta, purposely bumping into her shoulder as she passes by. 

“You look great in that by the way.” Nesta jolts as a quick slap meets the flesh of her ass, turning around to find Amren laughing. She will not deny she enjoys the warmth that emerges from the affected area of her skin after the impromptu spanking. However, Nesta eyes the other female with a glare, she swears she���s never been more willing to attempt to tear Amren's throat out then she is right now. Nesta isn’t even entirely sure why, usually her subconscious would make itself known at this point to try to guide her away from such a rash decision. However, now that her soul is complete, Nesta cannot feel anything within her aside from a pleased rumble of agreement. 

“How will I know?” Nesta asks, turning back towards the treasure trove of sex toys displayed before her. 

“There is only so much I can tell you, try trusting your instincts,” Amren answers softly, the sound of her footsteps echoing as she takes a couple steps back, clearly giving Nesta space to work with.

Nesta inhales a deep breath before exhaling softly, closing her eyes so that she can try and concentrate. Nesta lifts her hands–palms up–and holds them there, her elbows remaining in a position at about the same height as her waist. She tunes out the room around her and focuses in on the flames that have been joyfully traveling around her body ever since she finally accepted their presence, she focuses in on her power, tapping into the electric bundle at her core and then refocusing her energy on the area in front of her. 

As she mentally scans the toys with her power–eyes still closed–she hopes that she is able to tap into whatever instincts Amren is referring to. As she keeps scanning though, she feels the electricity inside her getting more painful as she gets closer to a certain area. Here, Nesta knows where to go. She keeps her eyes closed as she moves in that direction, each step causing the stinging to travel to a new area of her body. Finally, Nesta opens her eyes as her stiletto covered toe meets the edge of the shelf of toys.

The sight of a black riding crop makes her mouth water, yes this, we need to use this, we need to keep others in line. To make things even better, the crop had a beautiful diamond encrusted handle. Before she has a chance to pick it up, Nesta realizes her power isn’t done screaming at her, something more, we need something else. 

“I need to pick another,” Nesta turns her head over her shoulder slightly to make eye-contact with Amren, noting that her silver eyes blink slightly in surprise before she shrugs her bare shoulders.

“As I’ve been saying the whole time, listen to your instincts,” Amren steps back up to the shelf next to Nesta, gesturing for her to carry on with her business as Amren picks up the riding crop to hold for her. 

Nesta turns back around to follow the second trail of sparks that had been nagging at her. Only after she picked up the riding crop did Nesta actually realize that she was meant to be following two different paths. Not that it matters anymore, now she knows what to do. Nesta doesn’t even bother to close her eyes, instead she makes her way straight for the shelf of strap-ons, her sights locked on this massive red dildo. 

Nesta is a bit confused though once she gets closer, although it satisfies her instincts–the fact that this is the thickest dildo she has ever seen in her life makes her clit throb–she can’t help but notice the inside of it is hollow. Nesta picks up the toy and turns back around again to ask Amren what it is.

“Oh!” Amren’s eyes light up in delight as she eyes what Nesta is holding, “I haven’t had a chance to use that with him yet, this is wonderful!”

“Why is it hollow though?” Nesta asks, a bit nervous about the fact that she thinks Amren actually skips as she makes her way over to grab the toy from Nesta. She also tries not to focus on the fact that she thinks this is the most excited she has ever seen Amren outside of her talks with Lucien about whatever sport it is that they both like. 

“Oh child,” Amren starts, the term once again annoying Nesta and causes her to roll her eyes, “this isn’t a strap on for you.”

Nesta shoots her head back up at the ancient one’s words. Oh?

She eyes Amren, who is stalling at the edge of the mirror frame.

“It’s for him,” Amren grins at her, a mischievous spark in her eye. Nesta feels another wave of heat wash over her entire body as she imagines the implications of this knowledge. However, Nesta also gets hit with a sudden sense of insecurity as Amren leaves the hidden section of the closet.

“Amren, I have a question,” Nesta calls out as she follows her. As she crosses into the other section, she spies Amren placing the toys that Nesta has selected in one of the empty spaces on the shelves between candle displays, the tiny fae’s back turned away from her. Amren sighs and lets her head hang forward before turning around to meet Nesta’s gaze. 

“What is it now, girl?” Amren is no longer hiding her impatience, not even bothering to reprimand Nesta for failing to call her Mistress. Nesta doesn’t feel bad though, how could she when she finally feels like she belongs in her own body. There is one question she still needs to ask.

“How do I know that this magic is truly my own? How do I know this was meant to belong to me?” Nesta has never felt better or more like she belongs in her body than this moment in time, she is just worried that this is a trick, that it won’t stay that way, that she’s not strong enough.

Amren glares at her as soon as Nesta finishes spitting out the question, visibly incredulous that she had the gall to even ask the question.

"I have watched many a reign come and go girl, you dare question me?" Nesta gulps as Amren storms up to her, no longer teasing in her grip as she grabs Nesta’s arm and swings her around so that she faces the mirror again. 

“I thought we went over this already but let me try to explain it one more time,” Nesta sees Amren frown through the reflection, the tiny fae standing on Nesta’s left side this time rather than behind her because of the added height of Nesta’s stilettos. 

“Close your eyes!” Amren orders. Nesta does. 

“What do you feel?” she asks, holding Nesta at the waist as she massages little circles into the skin of Nesta’s hips, visible through the cutouts of her teddy.

Nesta sighs before emptying her mind, trying to focus purely on her inner core.

“I feel fire, it's everywhere. My nipples are hard, my pussy is wet, and it feels like my flesh is being scorched from within, I want-” Nesta cuts herself off. She wants so much. She wants to dominate, she wants to take, she wants to own, Nesta can’t even keep up with all the urges running past her mind, she knows for sure though that she’s never felt more hungry than she is in this moment. 

“Open your eyes, girl," Amren orders just as Nests feels like the fire in her chest is about to break past her ribcage. Again, if it was any other time Nesta would rip her a new one for continuing to call her ‘girl’. Now though, what other option does she have other than to listen?

Nesta opens her eyes and is met with their reflection, flames clearly dancing within her gray-blue hues. 

"Your power wants to work with you,” Amren hisses, splaying one of her hands on the bare skin below Nesta’s breasts, “it's meant for you to wield."

 "Feel this?" Amren presses her palm into the region above Nesta’s pelvic bone, the added pressure sending waves of pleasure towards her cunt, her nipples raging with electricity as they beg for similar attention. 

“Feel how good it aches," Amren whispers, moving her other hand to play with the zipper on Nesta’s front. She cries out a moan as Amren adds even more pressure to the area above her pelvic region, I do feel. 

"Feel how it makes your body cry for more?" she asks, and Nesta is starving. 

"This is what true power feels like girl, this is the feeling that men climb, cry and fight for, but they always fail," Amren brings her lips to Nesta’s ear and Nesta would be lying if she says she’s anything other than horny as fuck. 

"But us," Amren whispers, her soft breath causing Nesta to become somehow even more sensitive than before. Amren removes her hands from Nesta’s lower body and instead brings them up to slide beneath the fabric of her teddy, the cut providing easy access to her breasts. 

"Creatures like you and I…," Amren continues to whisper, squeezing Nesta’s breasts a couple times as Nesta feels even more wetness pool between her folds.

"We will prevail," Amren whispers, leaving a kiss under Nesta’s ear before letting go of her and backing away, out of the mirror’s line of vision. 

“I see” Nesta closes her eyes once more and reflects. She finally thinks she gets it now, at least for the most part. Because how can she deny who she is any longer? Who is she to decide that she isn’t meant to be here? The magic is in her now, it breathes with her and it craves her every waking desire. Her journey in this new world has been like a battle between Nesta’s old beliefs, her family, and the grim reality seemingly standing before her. Now though, Nesta Archeon is done being afraid. 

She opens her eyes only to immediately realize the lighting in the room has changed. The flickering yellow-orange flames from Amren’s candles are no more, in their stead, to Nesta’s utter astonishment, are silver flames, casting the room in a flickering white glow instead. In a similar tune, almost as if her magic is rejoicing at her inner revelation, Nesta feels another round of flames lick up her inner viscera, making her insides feel warm and comforting like a hearth. This body is no vessel, it is her own flesh and blood.

“I believe it's time,” Amren says quietly, softly, like she doesn’t want to accidentally startle Nesta into closing herself off from her magic again.

“I’m ready,” Nesta replies in the same tone, nodding at Amren through the mirror to show her that she is genuinely grateful for her assistance. It is actually quite insane to think that all it took to set her head straight was to be brought to the edge of an orgasm.

“I’ll give you a minute, I’ll be waiting in the hall.”

Nesta inhales as she nods in acknowledgement, once again admiring Amren’s petite figure as the female makes her way to exit the small room. Nesta feels yet another bout of heat spurn within her as she spies Amren grabbing the toys that Nesta has selected to use for tonight before she leaves.

“Remember what you can be, girl,” Amren tosses over her shoulder just before the door slams behind her, setting silence upon the tiny room where Nesta still stands. She waits a moment, listening. Judging by the increasingly quiet clack of the tiny Fae’s heels on the wooden floor, Nesta presumes that Amren is going to place them wherever she has stashed Varian thus far. 

Nesta closes her eyes, reveling in the swirling thrum of sparks inside her, she would like to think that it is her inner beast coming to say hello, she really would. But Nesta is an intelligent woman…an intelligent woman who knows that the jump in her arousal is most definitely because she notices that the strap-on–the massive hollow toy that she intends to use tonight–is close to over half the length of Amren’s forearm. And the thickness… cauldron. She knows that a male-strap-on has to have a certain level of thickness in regards to the girth because it has to allow for a cock to fill its hollow opening. However–Nesta thinks as she opens her eyes, seeing the flames inside them staring back at her through the mirror in front of her–she wonders exactly what type of toy is hanging between Varian’s legs that requires a dildo as thick as her wrist. She is witness to her own reflection as a devilish grin forms on her own mouth–Nesta is more than ready to leave all that was before in this room. 

“It’s time,” Nesta speaks aloud to the empty room. She refuses to let herself cower in the face of power ever again, especially when it's her own. Nesta straightens her posture, taking one last look at her reflection.  

It’s time to take what she needs.

___Preview of Next Chapter____

“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry, did we leave you alone too long,” Amren coos to her lover. Varian sits exposed on a simple wooden chair in the middle of the couple’s bedroom. The Summer Court male’s head is hanging low, his white tendrils of hair acting like a shield in front of his face. Nesta did not pick up on any sort of response from the male that indicates that he acknowledges their presence. She takes a quick peek over at Amren and decides not to worry after finding the other female to seem emphatically unconcerned. Nesta watches on silently as the tiny fae takes a couple soft predatory steps towards the subdued male. Nonetheless, she stills to take in the view of the delicious specimen of man in front of her. Nesta can admit fully that she has never really given much thought to Varian before, not really having much time to assess him in the short three months after the war with Hybern. However, now, she can’t seem to look away from the large male’s thick muscular thighs, his heavy cock, his beautiful dark skin–fuck, Nesta feels her cunt throb in anticipation. 

“Baby boy,” Amren releases another coo, causing Varian to finally raise his gaze to meet his Mistresses and causing Nesta to shiver for a different reason entirely. Now, not only does she have a better view of the male himself, a white blindfold and ball gag rendering his sight and ability to speak obsolete; but also she can see his nostrils flaring and his muscles twitching. Nesta is absolutely enraptured in the scene in front of her as she watches Varian suddenly seem to try to lunge in Amren’s direction, the man trying and failing to get closer to her, his muscles bulging in their effort to win a one-sided battle against his restraints.

But it isn’t until Nesta spots Varian’s collar, large and heavy on his neck, that she feels her nipples harden and another bout of wetness starting to form between her folds. Here, on Varian’s neck, in Amren’s apartment in Velaris, is one of the Summer Court’s infamous blood rubies. The massive jewel's weight was supported by a two-inch thick diamond encrusted platinum band. She knows it must sit heavy on his neck, it seems almost impossible that a jewel that large could be fixed upon a collar without falling, yet there it stands.

Last Nesta had checked, the source material of Prythian’s most common nightmares had decided to use this ‘threat’ as a paperweight. Although, she can’t deny how much the pathway to her center steams at the thought of the Summer Court male being made to wear a sign of ownership stamped with the ultimate symbol of betrayal of his own court, an invocation of  a feud on a personal level.  

Nesta can’t help but muse over what the thrill of incurring such a depth of loyalty from another must taste like, she wonders too, greedily and needily what it feels like to be such a fearsome predator to surpass the laws of societal expectation. Is this Amren’s subtle yet personal way of invoking her own feud, a remnant of the possessive creature that once roamed inside of her that is furious at the land for claiming ownership of something that she marked as hers. She also wonders heatedly, enviously, what it would be like to be wanted that furiously. Need starts to play at the strings of her core, she can feel it heating and readying itself for something more.

“Don’t be shy now, boy,” Amren instructs Varian, the man immediately turning his head in the direction of her voice, clearly desperate for her touch. Nesta would be lying if she said the palpable smell and taste of his desperation didn’t cause her clit to start to throb.

The sweetness of the pair in front of her simultaneously puts Nesta on edge as well as incurs yet another thrum of heat inside of her. Amren is never sweet. Nesta watches on as her mentor finally reaches her lover–no, her pet. Amren looks Varian up and down with a hungry gleam in her eye before grabbing his chin roughly, causing what sounds like a gruff moan to escape the large man’s lips. That’s all it took? Nesta thinks to herself. 

“You haven’t even been touched boy and you’re already sweating?” Amren tuts, roughly maneuvering his chin as she gives him a thorough inspection, the male seemingly keening into the contact despite its roughness. Nesta tries not to get whiplash as Amren softly pats the male’s cheek twice with her free hand before letting it drop to rest on her waist.

“Pathetic,” the ancient one scoffs, finally releasing her other hand’s grip on his chin. 

Nesta realizes that the male in front of her is not the same one that has been a frequent guest at their dinner table over the last couple of months. No, tonight she is not looking at the same captain of Tarquin’s guard nor the commendable battle tactician that she has come to know. Instead, Nesta finds herself looking at Amren’s pet. As soon as the thought crosses her mind though, Nesta is hit by a shudder that rolls through her entire body, a shock of a reprimand from something deep in her core, something primal.No, Nesta reprimands herself, straightening her posture as she starts to make her own way towards Varian. Tonight, he is her prey.

_______________________

Tag List: (tell me if you don’t wanna be here) @acourtofladydeath @ofduskanddreams @secret-third-thing @areyoudreaminof @iftheshoef1tz @chunkypossum @queercontrarian @yourlazykitkat @krem-has-a-mess @witch-and-her-witcher @yanny-77 @pippsmcgee @fieldofdaisiies

#poly+acotarweek2024 #acotar #acowar #nesta #vamren #amren and varian #amren acotar #amren x varian #nesta archeron #nesta x Amren x varian #nesta x amren #nesta x varian #cnm #consensual nonmonogamy #smut #acotar smut #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #nesta smut

[leoniestarlee]

Illyrian Assassin (17)

Pairing: Azriel x OC

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: past trauma, slow burn

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16)

--

We watched as the last mortal left in her carriage before Rhys knocked on the door. The light was already fading, and the world outside was thick with shades of blue and white and grey, stained gold as Feyre opened the front door and found us waiting.

Rhys’ brows lifted. “You’d think they’d been told plague had befallen the house.”

Feyre pulled the door open wide enough to let us in, then quickly shut it against the bitter cold. “My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

I pulled down the hood of my white coat as Cassian let out a low whistle. I turned in place, surveying the grand entry hall, the ornate furniture, and the paintings.

“Your father must be a fine merchant,” Cassian said. “I’ve seen castles with less wealth.”

“My father is away on business—and attending a meeting in Neva about the threat to Prythian.”

“Prythian?” I said, twisting toward her. “Not Hybern?”

“It’s possible my sisters were mistaken—your lands are foreign to them. They merely said, ‘above the wall’. I assumed they thought it was Prythian.”

Azriel came forward on feet as silent as a cat’s. “If humans are aware of the threat, rallying against it, then that might give us an advantage when contacting the queens.”

“Come,” Rhys said, offering Feyre a subtle, understanding nod before motioning to lead the way. “Let’s make this introduction.”

Azriel stayed close to my side as Feyre crossed the room, the four of us a step behind and we spotted Elain and another woman by the window.

The sisters looked to Feyre and then they took in the winged faeries—or the two of them. Rhys’ wings had vanished, while mine were…non-existent.

The two females both stiffened at Cassian and Azriel, as those mighty wings tucked in tight to powerful bodies, at the weapons, and then at the devastatingly beautiful faces.

The older sister whom we didn’t know the name of, took a not-so-subtle step in front of Elain, and ducked her fisted hand behind her simple, elegant amethyst gown. The movement did not go unnoticed by me as I sent her a small grin.

Feyre said to us, “My sisters, Nesta, and Elain Archeron.” 

The sisters did not curtsy.

“Cassian,” Feyre said, inclining her head to the left. Then shifted to the right as Azriel took a step closer to my back, placing a hand on the side of my waist as I stiffened. “Azriel and Aurora.” She then half turned to my bastard brother. “And High Lord Rhysand, of the Night Court.”

Rhys bowed to the sisters as I tried not to snort, leaning back into Az. “Thank you for the hospitality—and generosity,” he said with a warm smile. But there was something strained in it.

Elain tried to return the smile but failed.

And Nesta just looked at the four of us, then at Feyre, and said, “The cook left dinner on the table. We should eat before it goes cold.” She didn’t wait for any agreement before striding off—right to the head of the polished cherry table.

Elain rasped, “Nice to meet you,” before hustling after her.

“This should be fun,” I whispered to Az.

Cassian was grimacing as we trailed them, Rhys’ brows were raised, and Azriel looked more inclined to blend into the nearest shadow and avoid this conversation altogether.

Nesta was waiting at the head of the table, a queen ready to hold court. Elain trembled in the upholstered, carved wood chair to her left.

Feyre did us all a favor and took the one to Nesta’s right. I stepped out of Azriel’s hold, claiming the spot beside Elain, who clenched her fork as if she might wield it against me and Cassian sat next to me. Rhys slid into the seat beside Feyre, Azriel on his other side.

“A fork won’t do much to me,” I softly said to Elain who blanched, and I cringed, realizing I could’ve worded that better. “Maybe you should invest in an ash dagger,” I suggested as Cassian snorted.

A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent as we both focused on Cassian who was subtly trying to adjust his wings around the human chair, making me fight away a laugh.

Feyre yanked the lids off the various dishes and casseroles. Poached salmon with dill and lemon, whipped potatoes, roast chicken with beets and turnips, and some casserole of eggs, game meat, and leeks.

We all scooped food onto our plates, the sound filling the tense silence. I would have taken anything to be back at Velaris with my girls than at the dinner with Feyre’s sisters.

Rhys was digging into his chicken without hesitation. Cassian, Azriel, and I ate as if we hadn’t had a meal in moths. Being warriors, though, had given us the ability to see food as strength.

“Is there something wrong with our food?” Nesta said flatly to Feyre and slowed down my eat, watching them.

Feyre made herself take another bite. “No.” She swallowed and gulped down a healthy drink of water. 

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore—or are you too good for it?” A question and a challenge.

Rhys’ fork clanked on his plate. Elain made a small, distressed noise from beside me.

Feyre laid her hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”

My food dropped off my fork and onto the plate as Cassian choked on his water. Azriel shifted on his seat, angling to spring between them if need be.

Nesta let out a low laugh.

Rhys didn’t so much as blink at Feyre before he said evenly to Nesta, “If you ever come to Prythian, you will discover why your food tastes so different.” 

Nesta looked down her nose at him. “I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”

“Nesta, please,” Elain murmured.

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam—what it meant. She snarled softly, “What are you looking at?”

I gripped my fork tighter as I stared at Nesta. “Watch your tone with my brother,” I snarled back, making Feyre stiffen as Azriel and Rhys shared a worried glance.

Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now as he gripped my arm softly and stared at Nesta. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out in the forest, so close to the wall. Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

“How does an older sister sit on their ass and watch their youngest sister risk her life?” I questioned Nesta, thinking back to my own sisters at home who I’d never allow to do what Nesta allowed Feyre to do—to risk. “An older sister doesn’t let their youngest sister risk their life because you refused to get a damn job.” I sent a narrowed look to Nesta and Elain.

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied me and then Cassian’s handsome features. Then she turned to Feyre. Dismissing us entirely.

Cassian’s face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe…only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead. I lightly kicked his leg under the table, stopping him from making a stupid mistake as he let go of me.

Elain’s voice wobbled as she noted the same thing and quickly said to him, “It…it is very hard, you understand, to…accept it.” She casted pleading eyes on Rhys, then Azriel, then me, such mortal fear coating her features, her scent. “We are raised this way. We hear stories of your kind crossing the wall to hurt us. Our own neighbor, Clare Beddor, was taken, her family murdered…”

Rhys was staring at his plate. Unmoving. Unblinking.

Elain said, “It’s all very disorienting.”

“I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian and I flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on Elain, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit. 

I looked at him with shock, my lips parted as I tried to wrap my mind around his smile. So rarely did he ever smile at anyone else out of our little family. And yet, he’d just met Elain and was smiling at her.

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, maybe even me, but I wouldn’t know because I couldn’t take my eyes off Azriel who avoided look to me, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.”

“You could’ve learned like your sister did,” I said, turning my attention to Elain. “You think she wasn’t scared going into those woods alone at such a young age?” I aimed my question at Nesta who said nothing, her back rigid.

“Rory,” Rhys murmured in quiet warning. I looked away from the sisters, turning to Rhys who gave me a pointed look that I rolled my eyes at.

Feyre gripped Nesta’s arm, drawing her attention to her. “Can we just…start over?”

Nesta merely hissed, “Fine.” And went back to eating.

Cassian watched every bite she took, every bob of her throat as she swallowed.

I looked back to Az, wondering what he was thinking about as he sneaked at glance at Elain and my heart throbbed with a painful beat. It wasn’t until Cassian nudged me that I had finally looked away, fixing my eyes on my plate.

Elain said to Azriel, “Can you truly fly?”

He set down his fork, blinking. “Yes. Cassian, Rory, and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of wind.”

And I leaned further back into my chair as Cassian sent me a sorrowed look, placing his hand over mine in comfort—that I very much needed.

“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“It is sometimes,” Azriel said. Cassian tore his attention from me long enough to nod his agreement. “If you are caught in a storm, if the current drops away. But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before we’re out of swaddling.” And yet, Azriel had not been trained until long after that.

“You look like High Fae,” Nesta cut in, her voice like a honed blade. “But you are not?”

“Only the High Fae who look like them,” Cassian drawled, waving a hand to Feyre and Rhys, “are High Fae. Everyone else, any other difference, mark you as what they like to call ‘lesser’ faeries.”

I sat up, clearing my throat. “It’s become a term used for ease, but makes a long, bloody history of injustices. Many lesser faeries resent the term—and wish for us all to be called one thing.”

“Rightly so,” Cassian said, drinking from his water.

Nesta surveyed Feyre. “But you were not High Fae—not to begin. So what do they call you?”

Rhys said, “Feyre is whoever she chooses to be.”

Nesta said, “Write your letter to the queens tonight. Tomorrow, Elain and I will go to the village to dispatch it. If the queens do come here,” she added, casting a frozen glare at Cassian and I, “I’d suggest bracing yourselves for prejudices far deeper than ours. And contemplating how you plan to get us all out of this mess should things go sour.”

“We’ll take that into account,” Rhys said smoothly.

Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, “I assume you’ll want to stay the night.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, then yes,” Feyre said. “We’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow.”

Nesta didn’t smile, but Elain beamed. “Good. I think there are a few bedrooms ready—”

“We’ll need two,” Rhys interrupted quietly. “Next to each other, with two beds each.”

Feyre narrowed her brows at him as Cassian moved his hand away from mine and I sipped my water.

“Magic is different across the wall,” Rhys explained to Feyre. “So our shields, our senses, might not work right. I’m taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring.”

I darted my eyes to Elain who flushed a bit. “The—the bedrooms that have two beds aren’t next to each other,” she murmured.

Feyre said softly, “We’ll move things around. It’s fine. Mr. Old,” she added with a glare in Rhys’ direction, “is only cranky because he’s old and it’s past his bedtime.”

Rhys chuckles, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease of proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.

@waytoomanyteenagefeels

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #cassian #cassian acotar #shadowsinger #rhysand #oldersister #wattpad #wattpad writer #night court #illyrian #friends to lovers #found family #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #acotar x reader #azriel x oc #acotar x oc

[rhysands-rightknee]

******* SPOILERS************************

my thoughts after hofas that I can't expand on bc my phone is overheating...

a) sjm bring back your acomaf editors. hofas could have been so much shorter. soo much.

b) you can love rhysand profusely while also being critical of him (looking at u ember and randall chapter) 🦋💕🦋 I can't ignore the power imbalance, and all my pro-rhys sisters shouldn't either

c) where are the missing four brothers of Hell? it's stated that they're in other worlds, so Hell clearly has access to all worlds !!!

d) I knew that little (good) shit Bran was named after Brannon. I MISS YOU AELIN SO FUCKING MUCH AHHHH

e) I need to infiltrate sjms head to understand the timelines between the worlds and where Erilea falls, unless time is like our universe and doesn't exist (time literally doesn't exist y'all look it up. physics in these coming years is going to get so interesting)

f) one of the thousands of mystics will find elain. a seer so rare in a world is a weapon for good or evil.

g) I thought the asteri in prythian was Maeve for a hot second. I was so scared I had to stop reading

h) I still be wondering where Vaughn and Orcus + Mantyx (Maeve's husband and his brother) are at

i) I probably wouldn't have picked up hofas if it weren't for the acotar involvement idc

j) the drawings of the caves in Avallen and The Prison give me a feeling that Mama Archeron wasn't human.... and the three sisters are more important than we think... especially after finding out the Cauldron was an Asteri weapon

#hofas #hofas spoilers

[c-e-d-dreamer]

But I'm Only Looking At You: Epilogue

A/N: Whelp. It's officially the end of @cassianappreciationweek and it's officially the end of this fic. I hope everyone has enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! Everyone's comments and reblogs have meant the absolute world to me. And I hope you all enjoy this cute little epilogue. Maybe one day I'll return to this Universe and what Nesta's sisters are getting up to ;)

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part

Cassian can’t stop staring at her, can barely breathe. She’s not wearing her hair down the way she’s grown more comfortable doing around the manor, but it’s not her uptight style either. The top part of her hair is still braided back around her head, but the rest of her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. He can’t stop tracking the faint shades of pink sitting high on her cheek bones, can’t stop tracking the way she has her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she concentrates.

But it’s Nesta’s dress that truly has Cassian’s attention, that has his heart skipping over itself between his ribs. The red of the tartan looks breathtaking on her, complimenting well with the stormy blue of his eyes. His colors. She’s wearing his colors. Their colors now. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, and now it’s right here in front of him.

He reaches his hand up toward her, his fingers just barely skating across the skin of her wrist before Nesta smacks his hand away. She finishes securing his brooch into place, straightening out the fabric of his own tartan. She slides her hands down his chest, her lips tugging up in a satisfied smile, and Cassian can’t stop his own grin from growing. His hands move to secure around her waist, tugging her flush against him.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Cassian murmurs, leaning down to steal a kiss, but before he can, Nesta’s hand on his chest stops him.

“We’re late enough as it is,” Nesta reminds him. “And Elain will kill us.”

“It’s not our fault the baby came early. I mean one would almost think—”

“Don’t you dare.”

Cassian presses his lips firmly together, biting his tongue around the words threatening to spill forward, but he’s certainly not the first person to think them. The whole ton has been a flood of gossip and whispers, so much so it’s reached even him. Everyone is talking about how fruitful Lucien and Elain’s wedding night must have been, how quickly they were blessed to be with child.

It doesn’t help, of course, that Lucien had used his money and status to be granted a Special License, he and Elain wed faster than the post could reach he and Nesta in Glasgow to attend. That particular part of their whirlwind love story only seems to feed and fuel the spiraling talk around the ton, the speculation and the curious glances.

Between that and his and Nesta’s own unorthodox wedding, it’s safe to say that most members of London’s society now looked down their noses at the former Archeron ladies.

Still, Cassian doesn’t breathe a word of that aloud to Nesta. He certainly has no intention of stoking that fire, of earning his wife’s ire. So, instead he tries a different tactic, not releasing her from his grip and tilting his head, offering Nesta that charming smirk he knows she loves.

“It’s just a kiss, Nes.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the fondness of her expression. “And I know you. I know exactly what one kiss will lead to.”

“Just one kiss,” Cassian promises.

He reaches one of his hands up to cradle her jaw, leaning in until his nose bumps against hers. With his fingers pressed against her neck, he can feel the way her breath hitches, the way her pulse jumps and betrays her. He can watch the way her eyelashes flutter, eyes melting to that beautiful shade of blue he loves.

He closes the distance between them and slots their lips together, kissing Nesta languidly. She practically sighs into his mouth, fingers curling into his shirt, and he knows he’s won, teasingly sweeping his tongue into her mouth. When he finally pulls away, Nesta presses up onto her toes and tries to follow, and Cassian can’t help but chuckle softly, pressing a final, sweet kiss to her lips.

“Just one kiss as promised,” Cassian says, smiling smugly at the blissed out expression on her face.

“I hate you,” Nesta mutters, straightening and dusting her hands down her skirt.

She turns on her heel and heads for the bedroom door, but Cassian is hot on her heels. “That’s a funny way to say love.”

Nesta turns her head over her shoulder to settle Cassian with an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t let it deter him, doesn’t even bother biting back his wide smile. He sees the flicker of amusement glint through her blue eyes, sees the smallest twitch to the corner of her lips that gives away the smile she’s trying to suppress, but she’s quick to turn back around, pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Cassian reaches out and catches Nesta’s hand in his as they walk, threading their fingers together and bringing their joined hands to his mouth so he can press a kiss to Nesta’s knuckles. When she turns to glance at him again, she’s wearing that soft, fond expression that Cassian knows is only for him, that always sends his heart soaring. She squeezes his fingers with hers, and he knows all is forgiven. They head down the stairs and into the hall, Rhys making a big show of sighing, pushing off where he’s leaning against the wall.

“Glad you both finally decided to join us,” Rhys comments dryly, raising a pointed eyebrow.

“Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Rhysie. We were busy,” Cassian explains, daring to wink, but it earns him a smack in the stomach from Nesta, hard enough to pull a surprised gasp out of him. “Sorry, Nes.” He presses a kiss to Nesta’s cheek in apology, Nesta humming quietly in acceptance.

Azriel chooses that moment to step into the room, straightening out the cuffs of his sleeve. “Are we leaving? The carriage is waiting.” His eyes sweep over everyone, settling on Nesta and offering her a small smile and a bow of his head. “Mrs MacLeod. You look lovely. Red certainly suits you.”

“Thank you,” Nesta tells him. “I’m glad someone here is capable of being a gentleman.”

Azriel’s smile morphs into a smirk and he holds out his arm in offering. “Always.”

Striding forward, Nesta settles her hand in the crook of Azriel’s elbow, allowing him to guide them both out of the door and out of Velaris manor. Cassian wants to be annoyed, but it warms his heart to see Nesta so comfortable with his chosen brothers. Especially Azriel. Ever since he made the trip to come and stay at their manor in Glasgow, she and him seem to share some sort of special bond, one that strangely involves a lot of intense games of cards.

Cassian and Rhys follow them out the door and into the carriage, Cassian taking the seat beside Nesta with his brothers opposite him. He lays his hand on her leg, thumb tracing senseless, soothing patterns across her knee, as the carriage jerks forward. With her arms looped through his, Nesta lets out a soft sigh and drops her head to his shoulder, the long journey and carriage ride of yesterday clearly leaving her exhausted still. Cassian turns his face enough that he can press a kiss to her head, hiding his soft, happy smile in her hair, but he can feel Rhys and Azriel’s attention on them, can see their knowing expressions and smirks out of the corner of his eye.

“Excited to see Feyre today?” Cassian asks Rhys, hoping to turn the focus off of him and Nesta.

“Will she be there?” Rhys fires back, the too innocent tone of his voice not convincing for a second.

Cassian rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you just ask for her hand already?”

“He already has,” Azriel offers, clearly listening in despite his eyes watching the passing landscape outside the window.

“You and my sister are engaged?” Nesta asks, sitting up in surprise.

Rhys clears his throat awkwardly, picking at the sleeve of his jacket. “She said no. Said she has no interest in being anyone's 'little housewife.'”

Cassian presses a hand to his mouth to try and stifle his laughter, but it does little to help, the sound still bubbling out of him. Rhys rolls his eyes at the reaction, clearly incensed by Feyre’s rejection, but that just spurs Cassian’s delight even more. “Serves you right. About time someone knocked you down a peg.”

“Don't worry. I'll get her to change her mind,” Rhys assures them with a smug smile, but then his eyes glance toward Nesta, toward the unimpressed ire on her face and that smile starts to slip. “In a gentlemanly fashion, of course.”

The carriage pulls to a stop in front of the church, and Rhys and Azriel slip out. Cassian follows behind his brothers, turning and holding his hand out in offering. Nesta’s palm slides against his, fingers curling around his hand, as she steps down. She’s even more beautiful in the golden light of the morning, the sun’s rays bouncing off her hair, brightening the lightness that’s settled so surely amongst the blues of her eyes in the past months. For a moment, Cassian’s struck dumb, merely staring at her while warmth floods through his chest.

“What?” Nesta asks quietly, her brows pinching in confusion as she blinks up at him.

“You’re just so beautiful,” Cassian explains easily, reaching up with his free hand and sliding the backs of his fingers down her temple, her cheek.

Color spills across her skin at the compliment, but her gaze softens all the same, the smallest hint of a smile breaking free from where she has her lips pressed together.

“Nesta! You made it.” Cassian and Nesta turn to watch Feyre rush down the front steps of the church, the youngest Archeron’s smile wide. When she comes to a stop in front of them, her eyes sweep over Nesta, her head tilting curiously. “Wow. You look…”

“Different, I know,” Nesta finishes, fiddling with the skirts of her dress and clearing her throat awkwardly.

Feyre reaches forward, taking Nesta’s hand in hers to stop her fidgeting and squeezing. “Happy.”

The sisters share a moment together, share soft smiles between them, before Cassian places his hand on the small of Nesta’s back, leaning in to remind her, “we should probably head inside, sweetheart.”

Nesta nods in agreement, and their little group heads up the church steps and into the atrium. While Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel continue on into the nave, Nesta pauses and takes a moment to breathe deeply, so Cassian stops too, keeping his hand on her back and drawing soothing circles. Despite all of her words of assurance, Cassian knows she’s been feeling anxious all week about seeing her mother today. Unsurprisingly, Eleanor Archeron hasn’t taken the time to visit them in Glasgow, hasn’t even taken the time to write to Nesta.

Nesta reaches her own hand back and gives his fingers a quick squeeze, and Cassian knows that she’s alright. He moves his arm so that he can offer it to her, and once Nesta’s hand is settled comfortably in the crook of his elbow, they continue forward into the nave of the church. Elain and Lucien are already waiting at the front of the church, so Cassian leads them to their place beside Lucien’s half brother, Eris.

The christening is fairly short and sweet, the Rector saying the respective prayers followed by Cassian, Nesta, and Eris repeating back the promises as godparents. The water is poured over baby Ash’s head, the candle lit and presented in his honor, and then the ceremony is ending. Afterwards, everyone is invited back to Helion’s grand estate to further celebrate, the lavish ballroom decked out, a large feast and music awaiting them.

Cassian presses a kiss to Nesta’s temple and walks across the ballroom to the refreshment table, leaving her in the very capable hands of Azriel. He finds Feyre standing there as well, and he offers her a small nod of acknowledgement as he grabs a glass for himself and one for Nesta.

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys greets, stepping over to them. “Might I have a dance with you today?”

“No, you may not,” Feyre tells him, turning away from him and taking a sip of her drink.

It takes all of Cassian’s willpower to swallow back down his laughter, and what chuckles do break free, he tries to cover up with a cough. Despite his best attempts at hiding his amusement, Rhys still knocks his shoulder against his as he stalks away. It’s only when the Duke is finally out of earshot that Cassian turns a pointed look back at Feyre, at the small, victorious smile gracing her lips.

“When are you finally going to put him out of his misery?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Feyre tells him, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. “When are you going to host me for a visit in Glasgow?”

Cassian shakes his head at the subject change, but acquiesces all the same. “You know you’re always welcome. I’m sure Nes would appreciate it if you came and stayed.”

“Yes, I’m sure Nes would. Now if only she could allow anyone other than you calling her that.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Feyre takes her drink and walks away, leaving just Cassian by the refreshment tables. His gaze sweeps across the ballroom until he finds who he’s looking for, Nesta now standing with Elain. She has Ash cradled in her arms, smiling softly down at him while the little boy clutches her finger in his hand.

Light music and chatter fills the space around him, but it all fades away to nothing. In that moment, Cassian can see it so clearly. Rather than a shock of red hair, it’s a head of dark curls like his. It’s a pair of stormy blue eyes. It’s a red MacLeod tartan that the baby is swaddled in. It’s the sound of bare feet running and light laughter filling the halls of the manor. It’s finding her curled up in her favorite library chair, reading bedtime stories. It’s going to sleep holding the only woman he’s ever loved and waking up to her sleepy smiles and a soft kiss for the rest of his life.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s ever dreamed about. But it’s not a dream. It’s a very real glimpse into a very real future, and Cassian isn’t sure how he’s even still breathing around the way his heart has swelled between his ribs, around the happiness that’s so firmly taken up root there. He can’t stop staring, can’t stop smiling, can’t stop the love that crashes and floods through his veins and leaves him breathless.

Who knew he’d be so happy to have ruined a wedding?

Baby, I didn’t say my vows. So glad you were around when they said ‘Speak now’

End spoilers/notes: Listen, were Elain and Lucien courting before The Wedding(tm)? Did Elain go running to Lucien after The Wedding(tm), raging about what Cassian did and how she's ruined now too? Crying about how what respectable gentleman would marry her now? Did she then decide to throw caution to the wind and demand Lucien kiss her because what did it matter now anyway if she was already ruined? Did that evening end with more than just a kiss? Did that lead to Elain being with child and Lucien being actually ecstatic because he's been trying to ask Elain to marry him this whole time? Who's to say ;) Also, will Rhysand volunteer himself to accompany Feyre on her journey to Glasgow to stay with her sister so she doesn't have to make the journey alone? Will that lead to his idiot self pining and many shenanigans? Who's to SAY ;)

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head

#nessian #CassianAppreciationWeek2023 #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #regency au #my fic

[separatist-apologist]

All Of The Girls You Loved Before

Summary: I want to teach you how forever feels

OR:

That time Elain was a witch and Lucien was condemned to hunt her down

Part 1/2: Just Pretend | Read on AO3

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the prompt and @the-lonelybarricade for being my beta. This is for @elainweekofficial day [mumble] because I don't want to post on a Friday/Saturday.

She sensed him before she ever felt him. 

Like a hollow cry in her bones, a tug at her gut, Elain Archeron felt the witch hunter the moment he stepped into her territory, though in truth she’d always known him. They’d been born mere seconds apart. First her—and then him. Balance, as all things ought to be and the price of magic. For every trueborn witch, an adversary was created, too. They were fated by the very gods themselves to hunt the other, a brutal dance that ultimately would leave one of them dead.

Elain had parted ways with her sisters early on hoping to avoid three witch hunters descending on their little cabin. One witch was suspicious enough, but three were impossible to hide, besides. 

Sandwiched between two sisters who were more elemental in nature, Elain had always been the one left out. Her magic skewed toward visions—and poisons. She had a way with nature, as though the great goddess of creation flowed through Elain’s fingertips. She could make things grow with merely half a thought. Once, as a girl, Elain had only thought of flourishing life.

That was before the men came. When she was eleven years old, men swept through the village in search of witches. Not hunters, but just scared villagers who didn’t understand magic wasn’t inherently evil. They’d smoked her family out and burned her mother atop a smoking pyre while she’d screamed curses—and then screamed in agony. Their father had stolen them away before they might be next and in a fit of fury, Nesta had struck him down for letting their mother be taken at all.

It had left them alone, wandering from place to place first as orphan beggars, and later as healers. And with nothing but each other and the memories of the men who’d once come, Elain, Nesta, and Feyre had become cold—almost cruel. They could no longer reside together and one night, on Feyre’s nineteenth birthday, they’d divided the continent into three sections. The borders had been drawn in Nesta’s blood, procured by one of Elain’s sharp nails. 

They’d sworn not to cross the borders, to send word on the back of a crow's wings if they needed any assistance—but to otherwise stay out of each other's way. For Elain, that meant settling back in a rural village far from the more populated cities. 

Elain had the gift of prophecy, and she’d always known, since she was a little girl that the man born in response to her magical blood, would never rest until he found her. He wouldn’t be settled, the call too heady for him to ignore. She wouldn’t be caught off guard in some dense city.

No.

When he came, it would be to the rolling hills and the wide open space of the world she occupied. She’d built a cabin just outside the village center which, on occasion, had made her the target of a different sort of man. The sort that tried to ambush a woman, to force her to do things she didn’t want to, all because he found her interesting.

Her beautiful face was a different sort of curse. Elain never said anything on the nights she heard them creeping to her door. Nor did she ever try and stop them when they rattled at the locks and window, certain there must be a way in for them. And Elain had certainly never deterred the wild animals at the edge of the forest she lived just beside, from creeping out in search of their own prey.

Though she enjoyed the sounds of their screams when they were caught and dragged away, choking on their own spit and blood. 

There was only one man who would ever touch her, and she’d grant him that honor only if he managed to best her. The witch hunter, after all, was supposed to be her equal. If he managed to get his hands on her, he’d kill her. And Elain knew if he touched her, was close enough to slide his fingers over any part of her skin, she was as good as dead anyway. 

It could take him years to find her. Wherever he was, it wasn’t close enough to scare her. Only enough to keep the hair on the back of her neck perpetually on end. Her blood thrilled with each passing day—days in which she stayed in the sprawling, rural village to help deliver babies and see the sick, the elderly, and the infirm off into the under realm where they might know peace again. 

And each day, that man crept closer and closer. Elain caught herself wondering about him. Who was he? What was he like? Was he battle hardened? A cunning warrior? She’d long wondered about him and the kind of man he’d be. What kind of skills she’d need to kill him.

Elain could sense him stronger that misty morning when woke. Perhaps he was close—had figured out where she’d exiled herself to and was coming for her. Elain groaned into the gray, moody room she was in, kicking off her blanket sullenly.

She dressed in lavender, her heart pounding with each new step. Down, down, down she trekked, her leather boots covered in spring dew by the time she reached the village. Elain knew where she wanted to go first, despite her rumbling stomach.

The village was cleaner than it had been the day before, with great, colorful banners and awnings strung about. Welcoming a visitor—likely not a witch hunter, though she couldn’t be sure. The streets were cleared of any debris and though people walked along the gray cobblestone just as she did, there were no animals out. They’d been penned to keep shit from stinking up the walkways. 

Elain veered down a back alley toward a familiar tavern. The Ensnaring Snake had a gleaming brass sign hanging above the door, swaying gently in the wind. It was too early for a drink, but not for the owner inside to be awake. Elain pushed inside, nose wrinkling at the smell. Some attempt had been made to clean, if the lemongrass and mint hanging in the air was any indication.

But vomit and sweat still permeated the very pores of the building, collecting the grime no amount of muscle could scrub away. Elain turned to the bar and the man just behind, offering him a friendly smile. She hated men—all, except this one. 

Lucien Vanserra. 

“Elain,” he said with an easy smile. He was folding freshly laundered napkins and when she went to the swiveling chair to join him, Elain plucked one of the white pieces of fabric from the basket to help. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” she said, half hoping he’d make her something. He would if he had time—and no one stumbled in, still half drunk from the night before to demand his attention. It was rumored that she and Lucien were courting. Laughable, given Lucien had never shown any interest in her beyond friendship. She knew he’d been engaged as a very young man and that woman had died, and she suspected that like her, he had no interest in that sort of companionship from the opposite sex. He was the perfect cover for her, though. No one thought twice about the orphaned girl living at the edge of town if a man was willing to speak for her.

One day they’d grow suspicious, and Elain hoped this friendship with Lucien would shield her from the kind of violence her mother had once endured. That he wouldn’t be the sort of coward her father was, no matter how unfair it was to put that burden on his ordinary shoulders. 

He offered her a smile, one that stretched the entirety of his beautiful face. Elain had always wondered what had caused the trio of vicious scars that cut down one of his russet colored eyes. The markings started in his scalp, like nails dragging through soft butter, and vanished just beneath his jaw. It kept the other women away which, Elain supposed was lucky for her, even if it was unlucky for him. 

She’d long thought it was their loss. Lucien was still beautiful. Broad shouldered and muscular beneath his tunics, with a sort of grace to his movements she admired. His long, auburn hair was often half braided off his face, the rest left to tumble down his back, and his skin caught the warmest shade of gold in the bright rays of day. 

Sometimes she felt so tempted to touch him. 

She’d always admired beautiful things, after all. Coveted them, even. And of everything lovely in her seaside village, Lucien was the most beautiful of them all. It was folly—he wasn’t for her and she knew it. As long as another man hunted her, there could be no peace for Elain. So he smiled, with those warm eyes and his gleaming teeth, and Elain willed herself to feel nothing at all. Willed herself not to love him, burying it deep, deep down in the quietest corner of her heart, until she could pretend it didn’t exist at all. He was just her friend. And she wanted nothing more. 

“You fold, I’ll cook,” he told her, unaware of the battle constantly raging through her. The smell of leather and cinnamon stole over her. He vanished in the back, a smile dancing over his features. Like he knew some secret she didn’t. He always looked like that.

Elain folded in companionable silence, finishing just in time for Lucien to reemerge with two plates laden with potatoes and sausages and beans. 

“So,” she began as Lucien leaned against the smooth wood counter, fork in hand. “What’s going on outside?”

Her skin was icy, blood thrumming in warning. Whoever came was a harbinger of her death, and the icy fear sliding down her spine was an omen of the terrible thing to come.

“Lord Nolan from the north,” Lucien said, lowering his deep voice ever so slightly. “They say he’s hunting witches–that he found one in the Illyrian mountains and butchered her before she ever knew he was coming.”

Elain’s heart leapt in her throat. Nesta was somewhere by the Illyrian mountains. Had he found her? No, she reassured herself. This was mere legend and human braggary. Witches were bound to one hunter. Once that bond was severed, she had it on good authority the witch hunter lost his immortality and became little more than a regular man. If Lord Nolan had killed Nesta and was looking for her or Feyre, he came to Elain as little more than a mortal male.

Easily killed, then. 

“There is no such thing as witches,” she heard herself saying with a pretty laugh. Lucien’s eyes searched her own, some emotion she didn’t recognize streaking over his features.

“You should stay in the village,” he finally told her, gripping his fork just a little tighter. “You’re out there on your own…you could have one of the rooms upstairs. I’d make sure no one bothered you. And if anyone questioned…”

So he would shield her. Elain fought a shiver. “That’s not necessary,” she assured him, though in truth, his idea had merit. If a man was coming to hunt out witches, he’d start with anyone unprotected like they always did. How many widows with no sons or husbands to vouch for them had been caught up in the hysteria when the word magic was uttered? Too many. 

And though Elain was a witch, she didn’t need anyone to know until she was ready for them to know. She didn’t need to be caught unaware and had to be extra careful, given she couldn’t pour fire or water from her fingertips. 

“Elain–”

“Everyone will expect an announcement if they learn I’m staying here,” she said, her voice strained. “They’ll assume…”

Pink crept up his neck. “Right. And that would be…”

“A lie,” she supplied when no words came out of his mouth. “One not easily taken back.”

And she would not risk her friendship with him over a few days of safety. No, Elain would take her chances alone, trusting that if a question arose regarding her, Lucien Vanserra would defend her. She could see he didn’t like what she’d said, though he must have known she was right.

“You’ll take care of yourself?” he asked. As though that was ever in question. 

“There is no such thing as witches,” Elain said again, though with far less humor. “And Lord Nolan will have no interest in me. You’ll see.”

Far past breakfast, after she’d left Lucien to his tavern and had restocked her supplies at the market, Elain found herself wondering if Lord Nolan wasn’t her fated killer. She could practically feel each step reverberating through the stone and settling in her gut. He was coming for her. She waited on the side of the road, ignoring the gathered crowd. She wanted to see the witch killer before he realized who she was. Would he recognize her on sight? Would he know her by instinct, or would he have to root her out? 

Elain’s anxiety was at a fever pitch, the magic in her blood all but bubbling as Nolan approached. She could see his white horse in the distance, flanked by sentries and warriors likely just as battle hardened as he. A hand settled on her shoulder, causing her to jump—her whole body jerked, hyper aware of the witch killer coming for her.

Twisting, she found it was merely Lucien Vanserra beside her. He squeezed, which did little for the dread coiling through her. He didn’t know, thought her nerves were the same as everyone else's. A fancy lord from the city coming to their village didn’t bode well for any of them, especially if he’d come to root out witches in the name of glory and fame. 

Lucien’s solid, warm presence beside her steadied Elain just enough to look Lord Nolan in the eyes when he approached. He was princely, she supposed. Handsome enough with his dark brown hair and matching set of eyes. A sharp jaw and a soft mouth set in a disapproving scowl didn’t hide his handsome face well enough. The thrumming in her body reached a fever pitch until Elain knew with certainty the witch killer was right in front of her. Unaware he was being watched by his very prey as his eyes swept over the gathered crowd. He swung powerful legs over the side of his beast and prowled forward while his guards and retinue remained atop their steeds. 

There was no pretty preamble introducing himself. Lucien’s fingers dug into Elain’s shoulder when Nolan called, “There are witches living among you!” Someone she couldn’t see snorted with laughter. Nolan’s eyes fell on her for only a moment, sliding to Lucien and his claiming hand on her body. It was a warning, she supposed. Alone she might be, but unspoken for she wasn’t. She wondered if Lucien thought she was afraid and needed reassurance and protection.

Excitement was replacing the bubbling dread. She’d spent her whole life waiting for this. Once Nolan died, she’d have nothing but immortality ahead of her, assured she could not die so long as she kept to the margins. She wasn’t even thirty yet, had just turned twenty three a few months before. He could have made her wait centuries before hunting her down. She rather liked the thought of getting things out of the way now so she could live her life.

“You laugh?” Nolan cried, eyes sharp as he looked at them. “Witches are everywhere. They’re clever, rooting their way into your villages, your homes—all before cutting open your children to devour their hearts!”

Elain almost laughed. That sounded like the sort of rumor Nesta would spin. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself and so she stepped just a little closer to Lucien to feign fear. Like she needed the strong man beside her to protect her. His grip slid down her arm, until his fingers were brushing her own. 

It was tempting to give in. To take what she knew he was offering. Elain kept still, even when his finger hooked around her own. 

“I killed five witches in the Illyrian Mountains,” he said, the absolute liar. “All in villages far smaller than this.”

Five innocent women were dead. Did he know he’d been wrong? Had anyone taught him what he meant to be a witch killer? Or did the humans lie, like they so often did, about his importance and the curse upon them. He’d learn. 

Nolan looked at her again, though without awareness. A different sort of hunger slid over his features. It was one she’d learned to read well. Was it wrong to be disappointed? She’d expected…well, she’d expected more. Killing him would be easy. That should have filled her with relief and yet it didn’t. If he killed her, it would be because she’d gotten sloppy. 

Not because he had any true skill.

No one dared to argue with the lord, and though Elain said she wasn’t afraid of him, she trailed behind Lucien back to the tavern, along with so many others. The topic of conversation was Lord Nolan—Graysen, she learned—was cause for amusement. 

“Witches,” someone called, which caused riotous laughter. Even Lucien chuckled, filling mugs as quickly as they were thrust in front of his face. Elain drummed her fingers against the bartop. Graysen would be staying across town in the lord's manor which would make him difficult to get to. She could always try and court him, but that left her without male protection if he declined her advances. 

No. She’d need to be clever. She was far from the most recent transplant and yet she wasn’t married unlike so many other women who’d come and been snapped up quickly. There were more men than marriageable women here, and when one arrived, they were claimed almost immediately.

She thought that was what Lucien had tried to do when she’d strolled through his doors and inquired after lodging. He’d been the one who helped her find someone to build her cottage and it had been room number four just upstairs she’d spent six months living in while he kept her fed and entertained.

She turned her eyes to him, surprised to find him watching her, too. Maybe she ought to use him, then. Just as a cover. She could always leave once Graysen was dead. Lucien was mortal and was doomed to a mortal life. Even if she did love him, there was nothing to slow death that was surely coming for him. She couldn’t remain here forever—better to leave once she was free of the curse and start somewhere else. 

“You’re rethinking my offer, aren’t you?” he murmured, leaning his elbows against the bartop. “Five dead women, Elain.”

“I know,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to be anywhere but her bed—and she couldn’t invite him into it. He wouldn’t understand she only wanted protection. He’d read too much into it. He didn’t love her and she loved him and Elain knew if she gave in even a little, she’d want far too much. She’d make mistakes, she’d compromise too much and she’d end up dead anyway. 

“You’re not going to stay?” he asked, though it wasn’t truly a question. Lucien’s mouth was set in resignation as a sigh rose through him. “I—”

“Smile,” he interrupted as a patron made their way toward the pair of them. She did as she ordered, bristling at his brusque tone.

“Is that a yes, lady?” he asked, raising his voice loudly. He’d arched a brow, rising to his full height to look at her. Elain blinked, unaware of how the tavern had become silent around her.

“Yes?” she agreed, not realizing what he’d just done until cheers broke out in the space around them. Lucien, too, grinned a dazzling smile. Hoisting himself up over the bar counter, Lucien slid to the floor just beside her. He slid an arm around her and pulled her close. Elain could only brace a hand against his chest and squeeze her eyes shut when his mouth fell on hers.

It was chaste—polite and almost apologetic in its insistency. Her first kiss, she realized with a daze. Lucien cupped the side of her face gently, like a lover getting everything he’d ever wanted. This was a different sort of trap, she realized. 

She wanted to be furious and yet—and yet when he went to pull away, Elain curled her hands in the lapels of his tunic to hold him close and kiss him again. It was nothing—she would leave just as soon as Graysen was dead. So what did it matter if she kissed him once or twice, or pretended to love him if it kept her safe? Lucien’s lips were soft and he tasted just as good as he smelled. 

“I’m sorry about the ring,” he rasped when they pulled apart, his eyes glazed. “I got ahead of myself.”

Another lie. “It’s fine,” she breathed. There was no ring because this was not real. 

Lucien stepped apart to accept congratulations from the largely male patrons. Elain stayed in her chair, dazed from the kiss and the predicament she’d found herself in. Selfless Lucien had given her more than just roots. He’d claimed her publicly, in front of a good fifty something people. 

This woman belongs to me, not the dark god of the underworld. 

Unaware that Graysen wasn’t even wrong. Elain was a witch. And though she meant no one in the village any harm, it didn’t change the fact that magic coated her veins or that everything Graysen had said was true. She’d come to this place specifically to hide.

To wait for him. What would Lucien do if he realized he’d just betrothed himself to a witch? 

Lucien left his tavern in the hands of an apprentice when night fell, earning wolf whistles as he slid his hand against the small of her back. 

“I’m going to walk you home,” he said as they emerged into the cool, crisp night. “I want everyone to see—to think we are together.”

“We are,” she said dryly, not daring to look at him. What kind of man went to so much trouble? “You can’t make that kind of declaration thinking you can back out of it.”

A small smile crept over his features. “I trust you’ll find a way.”

“And if I don’t?” she whispered, letting him lace his fingers through her own.

“Lucky me,” was all Lucien said in response. Her head whipped to look at him, catching the pained smile on his face. “Surely you must have guessed…”

Elain felt terrible. “I—” 

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t expect anything. I never have. I just—I know what men like Nolan do, how they whip everyone into a frenzy and send innocent women to the pyre so he can tell our bloodless king he’s rid the land of evil.”

Elain’s heart pounded in her throat. “No one could think I—”

“Who would speak out against a fine lord?” Lucien asked bitterly. “I’d hoped for more time but…”

He drew a breath, stepping beneath the gated entrance of the village. Just in the distance, atop the hillside, lay her little cottage and her garden just beyond. She wasn’t the only one who lived among the plains. Plenty of farmers were counted among her ranks. Elain wasn’t the only one with a massive herb garden, either—though it was likely hers was the only one with so much carefully cultivated and hidden poisons. 

All healers maintained gardens like hers. It was how Elain had learned to plan one outdoors to begin with, rather than using pots inside her home where no one could see. Let them walk to her door and see the blooming hydrangeas and the rosemary all woven together. She was no threat to them—that was true. 

More than a few people watched them walk out together, clasped hands. The approval on their faces told her that this was what people had hoped for. Unwed Elain Archeron and the handsome tavern keep Lucien Vanserra, betrothed at last. He finished grieving and was ready to try again, and Elain…well, Elain had waited dutifully, had stitched up his broken heart like a good woman ought to. 

Elain’s pulse hammered hotly against her skin. They walked silently, unsure what to say to the other. To hear him admit he wanted her—that he would marry her if it came down to it—left Elain without a clever come back. Lucien Vanserra was a distraction she could ill afford. The witch hunter was here, making threats and determined to dig her out. If Elain was thinking about Lucien, she put herself at risk. 

She should have ended it right there. Right on her doorstep where he paused, looking down at her with those simmering eyes. Send him home. No man had the right to touch her—the only man who could claim to was the witch killer in the village.

“Would you like to come inside?” she breathed. Lucien blinked, eyes sliding to the round, wooden door behind her.

“Yes,” he admitted.

And though she knew she’d live to regret this moment, Elain let Lucien Vanserra into her home. 

Lucien stepped into her cottage with wide, curious eyes. He seemed to dominate the small space, far larger than she’d ever realized right until she’d closed the door. Unaware of how nervous she suddenly was, Lucien peered at the little kitchen and her books lined neatly along the shelves on the wall. While Lucien ran his fingers over the innocuous spines, Elain rushed past him to start a kettle. 

What was she doing? 

“I always wondered what it looked like up here,” he murmured, turning his attention to a crocheted blanket hanging over her sofa that faced the fireplace. If he hadn’t been there, Elain would have flicked her fingers and brought it roaring to life. Instead, Lucien went to it, stoking the flames with a poker until a rosy warmth filled the space. 

He sat, then, not daring to look at the archway behind them where Elain’s bed was hidden. It put her at ease, enough to steep tea leaves and bring him a cup as she sat beside him. His thigh touched her own, his body close enough she could have leaned against him and perhaps absorbed some of his strength. 

“Well?” she finally said once he’d had a sip or two. “Is it how you imagined?”

“About,” he admitted, eyes sliding to her face. Elain didn’t dare ask what else he’d imagined, though she could guess. Her own heart was thudding at the very thought of what they could do together. They were betrothed, after all—it was as good as married. 

Everyone who saw them leave, who counted the minutes until he didn’t return, would assume as much. Part of her wanted to prove them right while the rest of her knew whatever she’d find would only further damn her. 

Lucien drained his tea after another moment of silence. Elain cleared her throat, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “I uh…I’ve never…I um…I’ve never been with a uh…”

“Right,” Lucien mumbled, rising quickly to take his cup to the sink.

“Have you?” she called after his retreating form. He stilled for a moment.

“Yes.”

Of course he had. He’d been engaged, after all. It was a stupid question to ask. Lucien braced himself against the edge of the sink, the muscles in his powerful back expanding and contracting before he turned to look at her.

His eyes betrayed whatever inferno raged within him, exciting her though she didn’t dare admit it. The magic in her body recognized that look, despite his mortal existence, and rose to meet him all the same. 

“Are you telling me so I will be careful, or as a warning not to touch you?” he all but growled. Elain couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced through her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, which was the truth of the matter. Lucien prowled forward, dropping back to the sofa with that gleam in his eye. The one that told her if she asked, he’d sweep her off to bed and do every little thing he’d imagined when he wondered about the inside of her cottage. 

“Can I kiss you, at least?” he whispered, perhaps guessing that no matter how much he might want to do more, she was going to make him leave. “A proper kiss this time?”

He was coming closer, reaching for her jaw to draw her nearer. He smelled good, warm and rich—that leather and cinnamon that Elain was always thinking about. He paused just before their lips met. “Say yes.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her eyes fluttering shut. It was nothing like the bar. There was heat to his kiss, enough to burn her, to feel as though he were standing before the hearth all but consumed by flame. Elain, too, wanted him to devour her. She was clumsy, moving against him in a mimicry of what he was doing. 

He liked it, at least. Liked it enough to wrap his arm around her, to pull her close enough she was straddling his lap, hovering over him like the kiss had been her own idea. Maybe it had been. When Lucien licked the seam of her mouth, pleading for entrance, Elain granted it hungrily. She was lost, adrift in the heady, masculine taste of him—her first ever. 

He would be her ruination, of that she was certain. And right then, she didn’t care. Would damn them both for another frantic kiss. Raking her fingers through his hair, Elain didn’t stop him when his own began pulling the hem of her dress up over her legs.

“Can I—” he groaned, kissing her again like a starving man. “Can I touch you?”

He was touching her. Elain didn’t understand what he was asking until that same hand slipped beneath her dress to run the length of her thigh. 

“Oh,” she whispered. 

Reaching behind him, Lucien pulled the couch cushion to the floor, dragging them both down with it. He’d rearranged her easily her back to his chest, braced against his legs. The cushioned softened the wood beneath them, and when he whispered, “Spread your legs,” while tilting her face for another burning, claiming kiss, Elain could only do as he asked. His hand was back beneath her dress, pulling down her undergarment until he’d flung them somewhere far from them both.

“This engagement isn’t real,” Elain breathed, though the great goddess only knew if Elain spoke those words to Lucien or herself. He kissed down the column of her throat, his hand inching and further and further up between her legs.

“It’s real to me,” Lucien replied. Elain felt the world still for only a moment, dragging her awareness away from the man behind her to the magic thrumming in her veins. Whatever was happening, the fates themselves seemed to approve. And maybe—maybe she was supposed to be here with him, even if it was for only a brief respite of time. Or maybe she just wanted that to be true because for two years, he had been the closest thing to family she had. 

Elain cared about Lucien. Cared enough that when he told her to say yes, she did it without question. And when he dragged her to the floor so he could kiss and touch, she didn’t worry he’d hurt her. 

“Spread your legs,” he whispered, his other arm banding around her stomach. Elain did as he said, spreading herself apart until her ankles touched his shins. 

Elain tried one last time. One last valiant attempt to remind him this was going nowhere. “Lucien–”

“I know,” he interrupted, as though he couldn’t stand to hear the words. His mouth covered hers, claiming a brutal kiss that stole the very air from her lungs. His tongue found her own, stroking just as his fingers brushed along the center of her body. Elain’s hips jerked off the cushion, startled and excited all at once. 

“Soo fucking wet,” he growled, teeth nipping at her lip. “Just how I imagined.”

“Lucien,” she panted in response, trying to widen herself, to angle her hips so he’d touch her like that again. He held her tight against him, kissing and sucking at the side of her neck. There would be no mistaking what had happened tomorrow when she returned to the village. The villagers would see those claiming bruises and they’d know that finally—finally—Elain Archeron and Lucien Vanserra had given in. 

Clever fingers rubbed against the sensitive nub of flesh only Elain had ever dared to touch. But Lucien did, moaning softly behind her when he swiped through the slick desire pooling between her legs.

“You will be my wife,” he spoke against her skin, licking the salt from her with another shuddering moan. Elain couldn’t find it in her to protest. Not when she felt as though she were being consumed by flame. And certainly not when Lucien hooked his ankles around her legs to spread her wholly apart, her cunt bared to the fireplace in front of them.

“I want to hear you come,” he whispered. She turned to kiss him, not embarrassed by how she was grinding against his hand. His tongue was relief, heightening the building, pooling pressure pressed against her spine. “I want to feel you on my fingers.”

She didn’t have the presence of mind to ask why he wanted that. She was writhing between his own spread legs, pinned to his body by his ironclad grip. She could feel him behind her, rigid and hard against the base of his spine. He was grinding himself into her, but when she twisted to try and touch him, Lucien batted her away.

“Another night,” he promised, which seemed absurd given she had two perfectly good hands. Lucien redoubled his efforts, his fingers stroking and circling until Elain’s eyes were a vision of bright, dotted stars and her whole body imploded in on itself. Pleasure overtook her, racing through her very marrow until Elain could do nothing but ride through it—she was boneless, at his mercy for as long as he wanted her.

She was happy to be his captive. 

Elain came down with a whispering breath. His fingers slowed and then stilled, wiping the wet mess of her release against her bare thigh before he brought them to his own lips. She could only watch, entranced, as he slid them against his tongue before wholly sucking them into his mouth. Licking himself clean of her, Lucien groaned softly, his hips bucking behind her. “I should have started with my tongue. I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Regret should have begun seeping in—and it was, but not how she imagined. Elain regretted he had to leave, and regretted even more that she hadn’t been permitted to touch him. Sensing her rising argument, Lucien kissed her cheek.

“Next time,” he murmured. “Tomorrow, even—though I won’t be in until late.”

“Come whenever you like,” she heard herself saying. “Stay, even, if you want.”

He exhaled. “You could come back with me. Come to my bed…I’ll even make you breakfast.”

She smiled as she replied, “You’ll do that regardless of where I sleep.”

He smiled, too. “I know. I should go before the whole village knows I’ve compromised you.”

“I doubt it matters.”

“Still,” he said, helping her to her feet. “Let me claim a little innocence, at least tonight. By tomorrow everyone will have heard the good news and when I bring you to bed, there will be no surprises.”

She leaned up on her tiptoes, not allowing herself to think about the implications of his words. There would be no marriage, regardless of what he’d said. At best they’d only have this fractured, limited time before she killed Graysen and fled. What would he make of it in the aftermath, she wondered? 

She intended to cherish this time. Elain kissed him, delighted when he turned his head for a full, deep kiss. 

“Tomorrow,” he murmured.

Elain smiled. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow came in the form of pounding on her front door. One of the women had gone into labor and needed a midwife. She was bleeding badly, they’d said, and Elain knew how quickly things could go wrong. She’d grabbed her supplies, thinking only once of Lucien’s promise to make her breakfast. He’d understand. 

It took hours to deliver a set of twins. By the time Elain managed to turn one of the breech babies around, the sun had risen fully overhead and mom was exhausted. It happened quickly once she managed to get the shoulders through. One healthy boy—and then another. Elain applied salves to halt the bleeding and to help with the bruising and gave a tonic that would help the new mother sleep. 

And once she’d cleaned herself up in the washroom and packed away her spoiled clothes, Elain felt a pang of longing—and regret. This was what she’d miss, more than anything. These women, this place, and a job that made her feel important and special. 

She wanted to bathe before going to Lucien and begging him to feed her lunch. Even with her apron and gloves tucked away in the bag over her shoulder, sweat clung to Elain. It seemed like an ill omen to go to the man she was infatuated with reeking of another person's blood. 

There, just outside the market square, stood Graysen Nolan. He wore a blood red cape about his shoulders, and was dressed in well-made black trousers and a fine cobalt tunic. He turned as she approached, ignoring the villager he’d just been interrogating. 

“And you are?” he asked by way of greeting. Elain tensed, her body reacting to his nearness. This was him—this was the hunter. DId he recognize her? Elain met his stare, surprised when his own gaze flicked down her form. 

“Elain Archeron, lord,” she replied demurely. He hadn’t recognized her. Oh, how that disappointed her. More and more, Elain was beginning to think he was hardly a true adversary. Merely a bumbling fool who gotten lucky. If he was distracted by her looks, that was even luckier for her.

“Ah. Congratulations on your engagement,” he sneered, never taking his eyes off her breasts. He took his time admiring her form before returning to her face with an arched brow. She understood the suggestion on his face.

He was a lord—what low born lady didn’t want that sort of husband? And thought Elain didn’t believe for one second that was what he was offering, she did think he wanted her to believe her might. She offered him a smile that was just suggestive enough and sank into a bow. 

“Perhaps you’ll join me this evening? For dinner?” he pressed. 

“Just dinner,” she clarified, noting how he looked at her hand that was without a ring. His smile widened, as though he’d ensnared her in his trap.

But it was him now caught in hers. Elain wanted to know the layout of the lord’s home, wanted to know who would be around—what servants she’d need to get out, who she might also have to incapacitate. If she could get him alone, that would be even better.

But she suspected she might not. 

“Of course,” he swore. “Just dinner.”

For now, his brown eyes implied. Elain didn’t disagree with him. She merely allowed him to kiss the back of her hand, revolted by this casual touch he had no right to, before turning back for her cottage. It was there she bathed, taking her time to ensure every last inch of grime and blood was gone from her person. She took care with her appearance, choosing her nicest dress and curling her hair carefully.

Seeing Graysen was work.

But joining Lucien in his bed—that was what Elain prepared herself for. It was why she took such care to make sure she was pleasing to look at, that she smelled good, that everything he’d find, he’d like. 

She made her way to Lucien first. Just to see him. Stupid, really, given Graysen might be dead in a matter of days. It didn’t matter, she lied as she made her way back to the village. People beamed as she passed, as if they knew exactly why she looked so lovely. Those smiles widened when she pulled open the door to Lucien’s tavern where he waited behind the bar.

His eyes found her the second she stepped inside and whatever had caused the frown gracing his beautiful face vanished instantly.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me,” he teased, earning a chuckle from a patron nursing his mug.

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried,” she promised, pleased when he hopped the bar to come to her.

“You look pretty. Is this for me?” 

“Yes,” she agreed. He gave her a rather chaste kiss which didn’t keep someone from whistling, though they both pretended to ignore it. “This is for you and only you. But—Lord Nolan has asked me to dine with him this evening.”

The entire tavern seemed to be hanging on their every word. Lucien, who’d been rubbing his hands up and down her arms, froze when he heard the words. “Oh?”

“It’s nothing,” she assured him, looking into those russet eyes. “I couldn’t say no.”

Lucien nodded, forcing a smile on his face. “I know. Of course. How—how long will you be gone?”

“Not long I hope.” The words all came out in a rush. 

Behind them, someone coughed loudly, a sound that might have been a concealed he’s a bastard, though Elain couldn’t tell. Lucien brushed a curl from her face. 

“Lunch, then? I heard the good news,” he added, arm around her shoulders to lead her to the bar. Elain exhaled, relieved he wasn’t angry. Beaming, she nodded.

“Twins.”

Lunch stretched over hours, with Lucien doing his best to keep her in her chair, talking and laughing and telling him every little thought she had. The other patrons, too, seemed determined Elain would not go to Graysen’s, and when a servant came to retrieve her, the whole tavern had soured. No one wanted to see her go and all of them seemed to understand that Lord Nolan was trying to steal Elain right from under Lucien’s nose. 

She appreciated their concern, but each step walked her straight toward a destiny she was grateful to meet. He thought of her as a pretty trinket—a little bit of decoration he could play with while he worked to ruin the peace of their home. Elain was curious about him, though. She’d heard witch hunters were gifted with powerful magic to balance whatever she’d been gifted with.

What lurked in Graysen’s veins, she wondered? 

If dinner was any indication, whatever magic he possessed wasn’t special. Elain found herself frustrated as the time passed. He talked endlessly of his great wealth back at the capital and his many conquests. The only time he deigned to ask her anything was when he was curious about other villagers—all women, all young, all beautiful. Elain supposed she knew who he was considering as witches. Typical male brutality. He wasted her time with flattery and flirting, so clearly hoping to bed her. 

What Elain did learn was how careless he was. If she dined with him again, it would be easy enough to slip a little poison in his cup. He’d fall over dead and Elain could run for it, packing up in the night and vanishing before anyone ever thought to look for her. She could hide for fifty years—just long enough for everyone to forget her. It sent a pang of sadness through her as she imagined Lucien picking up the scraps she’d left behind. Of realizing yet another woman he’d cared for had left him.

He’d love again, she told herself firmly. 

It would have been a kindness to leave him alone. To let Lord Nolan walk her back to her cottage, eyes gleaming when he reached the threshold, just as Lucien had done the night before. And the irritation that bordered on rage when she closed the door firmly in his face with little more than a bow and a murmured thank you. 

She stared at the window, noting how he trampled through her garden purposefully before making his way back down. Petulant. Spoiled and cruel. She wanted to be sure he was long gone before she made her way back down to Lucien’s bed—just as she promised.

Fingers gripped her arms, a hand pressed over her lips to suppress a rising scream. “He’s gone,” Lucien whispered against the back of her neck. 

“How—”

“I thought he might try something at the door,” he said, letting her twist in his arms. “And I’m terribly jealous.”

“I had it under control,” she told him, unable to pretend she didn’t like the sight of him in her little cottage again. “Who is manning the bar?”

“A friend who is almost certainly robbing me,” he replied cheerfully. “When I said I needed to go so I could defile my new wife, everyone was understanding—”

“You did not say anything of the sort.”

“I implied it,” he replied with that unapologetic grin. “Heavily.”

“I take it you aren’t hoping for a long, drawn out engagement?” she asked dryly.

“I’ll marry you in the morning,” Lucien replied, his voice husky from wanting. “I’ll wake the priestess and marry you right now, if that’s what you want.”

Lucien reached into the pocket of his pants and procured the thing Graysen had been looking for earlier. It seemed far too nice for a simple barkeep to own. The ring Lucien slid against her finger was made of gold, with a pretty orange stone shaped like a bright summer sun now perched against her skin. 

“It was my mothers,” he told her, his eyes so impossibly soft. Elain didn’t dare ask if he’d once given it to the other woman—and taken it back when she died. “And now it’s yours.”

She was fooling herself. Elain tried to twist it off, to give it back but Lucien took a healthy step away from her, palms raised. “It’s yours,” he repeated, his eyes flashing with warning. 

“Lucien, I…”

“I know,” he said, though he didn’t. He didn’t know at all—didn’t know tomorrow she'd begin brewing a tasteless, colorless poison and as soon as it was done she’d free herself of the curse that bonded her with the worst man she’d ever met. And he didn’t know that because she was doomed to complete this task, she would be forced away from the best one she’d ever met. 

That even if she could somehow stay, he’d notice she wasn’t aging one day. That every year he got older while Elain remained exactly the same. No matter what, fate would drag her away from Lucien Vanserra.

It felt so obscenely unfair. Elain looked up at him, wanting more than anything some loophole that would allow her to keep him. She was already drowning in her regrets—what were a few more? She brought her mouth to his, pulling him down as his arms snaked around her waist. Lucien responded immediately, moaning softly when he felt her pressed wholly against him.

He hoisted her into the air easily, like she was weightless and made of nothing but air. Elain wrapped her legs around him, squeezing until he moaned again. Everything she did was merely accidental, hoping he liked the way she touched his back, his hair, his shoulders. Lucien, it seemed, like anything at all so long as she opened herself for him so he could taste. 

She hadn’t realized he was walking until they both fell sideways, still wrapped around the other. He’d brought her to bed—just as he’d promised the night before. Elain hadn’t saved herself for any special reason. It had merely worked out that way. She was so focused on killing the hunter destined to try and kill her that she’d had no time to consider romance. 

Lucien pressed her into the blanket, grinding against her so she could feel his arousal, just as she’d felt the night before.

“Are you going to let me touch you tonight?” she gasped, arching her neck so he could kiss her there, too.

“Eventually,” he growled. Didn’t he want her to touch him? Elain slid her hand down his clothed chest, trying to thwart him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it over her head. 

“If you touch me, I’ll lose myself,” he told her, kissing her until she was breathless. “I won’t let you stop, and there are things I want to do first.”

“Like what?” she asked, trying to imagine what might take precedent. “I want to touch you. I want to see you.”

Lucien released her to straddle her hips. Eyes locked on her face, he reached for his tunic and pulled it over his head. His body was lovely—all smooth, golden brown skin and lovingly carved muscle. When had he found the time, she wondered? As far as Elain knew, Lucien was always behind the bar of his tavern, monitoring the festivities and doling out food and drink. She’d seen him drinking often, and yet when she reached up to run her hand down his toned stomach, she found herself touching a man who very clearly had dedicated a lot of time honing his body.

She wasn’t complaining. Not when the carved vee at his hips was pointing toward the prominent bulge in his pants. She wanted to touch that, too, and knew Lucien wasn’t going to remove them for her. 

He was already reaching for the buttons trailing the front of her dress, put there for ease over style. 

“You didn’t finish,” she complained, pulling at the laces of his trousers. Lucien’s hips bucked into nothing as he ground his teeth together. 

“You first,” he rasped, pushing the sleeves of her now billowing, open dress off her arms. Elain arched up, pressing her stomach against his cock which earned her another soft, delicious moan.

Elain let herself pretend what was happening was real. That they were two newly engaged lovers finally giving in to the simmering passion between them. Assured he wouldn’t leave her stranded at the altar, that they could have this now. 

“Is this what I can expect all the time?” she teased as Lucien made quick work of her underthings.

“An eternity of it,” he swore in the dark. Elain only smiled, turning her head into her hair so he wouldn’t see. He had no idea how wrong he was—but oh, she half wished he was right. At best, if everything went perfectly, Lucien could be assured a decade. At worst, he had a week. 

What would her sisters say if they knew how she was altering her plans? For a mortal man, no less—the thing their father had been when he’d so cowardly left their mother to burn on that pyre. 

They weren’t here. They’d spit up, were still bound by the borders they’d drawn in Feyre’s blood and whatever she did was between her and the great goddess. It was only Elain and Lucien, back to kissing in the dark. Skin to skin, arms wrapped around the other like they might vanish into mist and shadow if they let go. 

She could have stayed like that forever. Ignoring the pooling arousal in her stomach and her own excited need, kissing Lucien felt like the answer to a question Elain had been asking herself her whole life. Like he’d been made specifically for her and her alone—the way she wanted him ought to have frightened her. 

And she wondered, as his mouth began to trail down her neck again, licking and sucking and biting, if he wouldn’t understand what she was. If he wouldn’t accept it, even. Her father had, albeit cowardly and without true love. But Lucien…

“Lucien,” she whispered just as he licked her peaked nipple. She was going to tell him, she swore. He looked up, russet eyes bright in the waning moonlight pouring through the window. 

“Yes?” he replied softly, his breath fanning against her skin.

Maybe she was a coward, too. Because Elain merely raked her fingers through his hair, snagging on one of the careful braids she liked so much. Maybe he’d accept her—maybe he’d still want her, would still marry her and love her.

But maybe he wouldn’t. And she couldn’t leave it to chance. Not when the witch hunter was on the loose and not when men always believed other men. Lucien could tell—and Graysen would believe him.

“Don’t stop,” she said instead, parting her legs wider so he could fully lay between them. 

“I couldn’t even if you begged,” Lucien admitted, running his hands down her sides. His words thrilled her beyond anything—the idea that he was so ruined, so wrecked, that this was the only path forward. 

“Gods, Elain,” he breathed, teasing both breasts with those clever fingers she liked so much. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long…what I’d do, if I ever had you here.”

Elain exhaled. “And?”

“I feel brand new,” he said, sliding further down her body, even as his hands remained, drawing soft moans from her. Elain’s hips undulated beneath him, and when Lucien pulled himself up just a little, she could see the slick patch of her arousal gleaming against the trail of copper hair just beneath his navel.

Lucien reclined back on his haunches, hands moving to her thighs to spread her wide open. Elain squirmed beneath his gaze, but Lucien didn’t budge, drinking her in as though she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“I’ve had your taste burned in my mouth all day,” Lucien whispered, lowering himself so slowly, still looking at her spread apart with ravenous hunger. “It’s all I’ve thought about.”

“You’re going to eat me?” she questioned. Lucien kissed her cunt, unaware of how his lips against the most intimate part of her sent a thrill shivering up her spine. 

“I’m going to devour you,” he swore.

He gave her no reprieve, no chance to demand he explain before his tongue replaced his lips and he was licking her with wild, desperate abandon. Nothing in her entire life had ever felt half as good as his mouth—as his fingers holding her open as he slid up and down her aching, swollen cunt. 

She wanted to make it last and she knew she couldn’t. Not tonight, maybe not if she had a hundred nights with him. And from the way Lucien’s hips were bucking against the mattress, rubbing as though to alleviate his own ache, she doubted he could, too. Elain gripped his head, pushing and pulling alternately to keep him flush against her, to keep his tongue flat against her clit.

Lucien groaned every so often, the sound vibrating through her. Elain rolled into him, chasing the bright, burning release unspooling through her until she couldn’t stop—until she screamed so loud she was sure the village must have heard. Lucien pulled himself off her as she drifted boneless in the dark until the warm, solid weight of his body resettled her.

Lacing his fingers through her own, Lucien whispered, “One moment of pain—just one—for an eternity of pleasure.” She hadn’t realized he’d removed his pants, couldn’t be sure when it had even happened. She certainly felt the proof of it, lined against her soaked cunt, pressing into the opening. She didn’t have the sense to ask what he’d meant until Lucien thrust the long, thick length of himself wholly into her body.

A bright spark of pain made Elain gasp, her eyes pricking with tears. Lucien gripped her hands, holding himself still as he kissed her sweetly. His fingers had been nothing compared to his cock, and the stretch it took for her to accommodate him bordered on impossible.

“Breathe,” he whispered. Could he feel the frantic thumping of her heart? “Take a breath, Elain.”

She did, well aware of how she tightened around him. Lucien’s own breath caught in his throat though he did a good job of hiding how much he wanted more, kissing her instead. It felt impossible to feel so much. He was in her, sharing the same breath, her body—her very soul.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, connected and unmoving as Elain let herself relax and unclench around him. And she wasn’t quite sure when the pain faded into a soft ache she just barely noticed when need crept back in. 

Lucien didn’t release the hand he was holding when he realized she wanted more. Eyes searching her own, he merely murmured, “I love you.” She wanted to say it back. She wanted to tell him the truth and knew she couldn’t, not when she was hiding so much from him.

Not when she knew she’d have to leave him. Better to let him think she’d never cared. That the problem was her, and not him. Elain suspected Lucien would blame himself if he believed she loved him only for her to vanish. And she knew, without a doubt as he took that first, long stroking drag in and out of her body, that he’d look for her. 

That was unavoidable now. She could see it on his face, peering from those russet eyes. He wasn’t going to let her go easily. Elain pressed her forehead into his shoulder and wrapped her free arm around his neck. She wasn’t letting go of his hand for anything and it seemed he wasn’t either.

Lucien stroked, slow and deep until they were both shuddering from the pleasuring building through them. Elain was taut, pulled by a thread deep in her gut—the one she often felt when she sensed the hunter. This was different, though she wasn’t sure how. Only that fear and hatred were the mark of the hunter and whatever magic wove around her heart felt like love.

It was. 

Elain came with a soft cry against his lips, arching into him to take more. Lucien’s careful rhythm stuttered as his breath became ragged and desperate. The hold on her hand was so tight she wondered if he wasn’t bruising her.

“Elain, Elain, I—”

He came with a whimpering cry, face buried in the crook of her neck. His thrusts had become harder, deeper, like he was trying to bury every inch of himself within her. Elain took all of it, holding his gaze to silently say she’d take more. All of it—whatever secrets he had, she wanted them. They couldn’t be any worse than the ones she kept clutched at her breast.

Lucien collapsed against her boneless though hardly spent. She could feel the wild, erratic pulse of his heart pulsating in his cock, a match for her own. 

“Holy gods,” he whispered, not bothering to withdraw. 

Elain only nodded as Lucien brought their joined hands to his lips for a kiss.

“Lucien?”

“Yes?”

“Can we do it again?”

A slow smile spread over his face and as he dragged the blanket over their bodies, Elain couldn’t help the giggle that tumbled from her lips.

“We can do whatever you like.”

Elain woke up wrapped around Lucien’s body, tucked safe against his chest. They’d been up half the night, and judging from the way the sun filtered through the room, were missed in the village. A polite knocking at the door pulled them both apart, Lucien groaning as Elain slipped on some clothes and made her way to the front.

Before she dragged herself out of bed, Elain indulged in one soft kiss—one Lucien returned enthusiastically.

“I think it was fate to find you,” she whispered, earning a heart stopping smile in response. 

The sister to the woman who’d given birth the night before had come for a pain tonic, and a little more herbs to help with bleeding. As she waited, Lucien stumbled into the front room, mercifully wearing pants, though little else. There was no hiding what was happening, then. The woman averted her eyes when she saw his bare chest and Lucien swore, vanishing back into the bedroom to finish dressing. 

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and bade her farewell before winking at the woman still waiting on Elain’s couch. Word would spread like wildfire through the village—Elain and Lucien, together as husband and wife. If Lucien backed out now, he had the potential to ruin her reputation, though from the soft, rosy look on his face before he’d gone jogging for the village, Elain very much doubted he would.

It would be her backing out.

She thought of nothing else all morning. Long after her client had vanished and she began grinding and boiling her poison for Graysen, all she thought of was Lucien. She needed to focus, or she was going to burn just as surely as her mother had. Elain could not bare the shame of her sisters learning she’d been bested by a witch hunter—or that the cause of her demise lay at the feet of a mortal man who’d had the audacity to love her.

The urge to tell Lucien everything and beg for his help overwhelmed her when she made her way to the village. A vial of poison—strong enough to destroy half an army—lay in the pocket of her dress. She’d dressed carefully to draw no attention to herself and wound toward the market mid-afternoon where she knew Graysen would be.

All she had to do was convince him to invite her to another dinner where she might slip it into his drink and watch him die. Graysen was waiting, interrogating several older women with those dark, suspicious eyes. Elain couldn’t make sense of him—had no one taught him anything? Or was he so convinced of his righteousness that he simply didn’t care? 

“Elain Archeron,” he said with a smile that was anything but friendly. The vendor standing behind a cart of assorted nuts averted her eyes, an apology etched in the harsh lines of her face. “You are all anyone talks of today.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “Oh?” Because of her dinner—and the potential to betray one of their own, she assumed.

“Do you know the king forbids any unmarried woman from engaging in…” his voice trailed off even as his eyes raked down her body. “And any woman caught doing so is considered…fair game.”

Her heart picked up. “That’s a lie.”

Anger rippled across his features. “So sure, are you? Perhaps I’ll drag you before him and we’ll find out who the liar is.” 

He gripped her upper arm, unconcerned with the utter spectacle he’d made before everyone. That was part of the humiliation, she supposed. If they didn’t know what she’d done by then, they certainly knew now. 

“Or,” Graysen lowered his face, his breath foul against her skin. “Perhaps you are free for the takin—”

“Get your hands off my wife,” Lucien’s voice interrupted, snapping through the silence like a whip. “Step away from her.”

Graysen turned, though he didn’t release her. Elain’s heart thudded wildly. Wife—he’d called her his wife. 

“Wife?”

“Wife,” Lucien confirmed, striding for her like some sunlit prince. “I married her in the dead of night last night because I simply couldn’t wait any longer.” 

He angled his head toward the priestess, draped in blue. Teal eyes narrowed in calculation, as though to say I better see you later today, before she nodded her head in agreement to Graysen. 

“Take your hands off her,” Lucien repeated, forcing Elain—and every other villager watching—to wonder what he might do if Graysen told him no. There was no deference in his tone. No respect. Only his blazing, unguarded hatred.

Graysen released Elain with a little shove, sending here stumbling toward him. “Rules are rules,” Graysen snapped at Lucien, who merely shrugged. 

“Until the king forbids sleeping with your lawful wife, I think she’s safe.”

“Watch your mouth.”

Lucien offered a practically feline grin before sweeping into a flourishing mockery of a bow. “My apologies, your grace.”

Elain reached for his hand as Lucien straightened, the challenge on his face. Everything was going so poorly—all wrong, and not how she’d once imagined. Nesta and Feyre would have incinerated him by now. Elain was forced to be more careful which put her in danger.

Lucien slid an arm around Elain’s body, allowing her to slide her hand—the one that bore his ring—over his shoulder. Graysen noticed, his face rippling with hatred. He’d punish Lucien for this moment, of that she was certain. 

Everything was far too tangled. Graysen stalked away, allowing chatter to erupt in the market once again. The pretty priestess held Lucien’s gaze before she approached. “We should get your documentation,” she murmured, cognizant people would be watching. “I’ve just drawn it up.”

Lies. Pretty lies for the ears around them. 

“Lucien,” Elain tried to whisper, but he brought his face to hers for a soft, sweet kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted it,” he whispered, soft enough she might have dreamed the words entirely. “I’m sorry.”

There was no helping what came next. The clasped hands, the vows spoken in the priestesses small temple. Lucien pledged his life for hers and Elain wondered what the mother goddess made of all this. It felt ordained somehow—as if the world had stopped breathing when Lucien spoke those words, and Elain repeated them right back. 

A document was procured for Lucien, the date and time carefully altered to fit his lie. To the rest of the world, Elain had been married a full twelve hours already, and her night with Lucien was to be expected. No one in the village would have cared so long as he eventually married her, and Elain wasn’t convinced Graysen hadn’t made the whole thing up simply to soothe his wounded pride. 

The whole thing led to a vicious, too fast coupling in the room Lucien lived in above his tavern. She hadn’t cared that he hadn’t taken his time with her, nor did she care when he’d merely lifted her up on his dining table and buried himself with one mighty stroke. She’d clung to him, his words still bouncing through her skull. 

My wife, My wife, My wife. 

“I’ll come to you tonight,” Lucien had told her in the aftermath, holding her face in his hands. “He won’t remain for much longer and then we’re free.” Elain only smiled, her poison burning a hole in her pocket. She’d nodded, thinking she should say something—anything—for what he’d done.

Thank you.

I love you.

I can’t leave you and I’m scared.

“I’ll be waiting,” she said instead, forcing herself out of his embrace. She still had work to do, still had to kill Graysen somehow. Maybe this was his dark, immortal gift—his brutal cruelty, his ability to destroy communities with little more than a pointed finger. His unending, ugly hatred. She supposed that made Graysen a perfect foil, given how Elain believed everything would work out. That in the end, she’d have happiness.

Peace. 

She trudged back to her little cottage, her throat burning with emotion. As she worked inside, Elain began to practice how she’d tell Lucien. He needed to know, needed to understand what she was and why she couldn’t stay. He deserved that, after everything he’d done for her. Misery curdled in her chest as she pictured his revulsion, his horror. 

By the time she heard his boots coming up the steps, Elain was a trembling mess. She went to greet him at the door, blinking back tears she didn’t want him to see. Not yet. Not until she’d told him, her voice clear and calm.

It wasn’t Lucien on the other end. Graysen pushed his way into her cottage, a sword on his hip. At the bottom of the path stood four sentries, lingering at the grassy hillside with matching expressions of boredom.

Elain’s heart froze.

“So. Married,” he said, eyeing the dried lavender hanging over her sink.

“Yes,” Elain agreed, still holding open the door. Night hung thickly around them, and Elain wondered how long before Lucien arrived. 

Graysen guessed her thoughts. “You’ll be delighted to know that your beloved is currently entertaining a host of drunkards—my men are thirsty.”

She took a breath. “You have no right—”

“I have every right,” he whispered, spinning so quickly she nearly tumbled to the floor. “Did you think I wouldn’t figure you out? Witch?”

Elain swallowed. There was a sword at this side, but worse than that was the magic she knew he commanded—magic designed to destroy her. There would be no rescue, not from Lucien. Only her and her wits could save her.

Elain whirled, reaching for a vase at the end of the table. She smashed it against his face, moving far quicker than she ever dared before. She caught him off guard for only a moment before he whirled and slammed her to the floor with every ounce of strength he possessed.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarled as blood dripped from his face. Elain tried to stand up, but Graysen pressed his boot to her throat, choking the hair from her lungs. Elain clawed at his shoe, twisting to try and escape him, which only made him push harder.

“I am going to enjoy watching you burn.”

Blackness dotted her vision, pulling her into a dark abyss before she could truly fight back. Elain tried—oh, how she tried.

But in the end, Graysen was the victor. 

Elain woke to the sound of weeping and wet stone seeping through the fabric of her dress. She groaned, only to find Graysen standing at the bars of the cell he’d thrown her in. Elain hadn’t even known there was a jail in their village. Daylight shimmered somewhere behind him, illuminating him brightly despite the gloom Elain found herself encased in. 

“Just in time,” Graysen murmured, his eyes wide with delight. “I was starting to think I’d killed you.”

Elain ran her fingers over her burning throat. “Go to hell,” she whispered.

“You’re heading there soon,” he promised, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. The sound of weeping intensified at his words, betraying that Elain would not be going to that pyre alone. Just as her mother had done.

As though he sensed the direction her thoughts were heading, Graysen said, “Seems fucking you wasn’t enticing enough to convince the barkeep to come for you.”

The burning in her throat intensified, though Elain didn’t let Graysen see. What had Lucien heard? She’d wanted to tell him the truth of the matter herself but perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered who told him. If Lucien knew and had hardened his heart toward her…Elain couldn’t picture it. Eyes closed, she let herself imagine Graysen strolling in, so smug despite his bleeding face. How he must have lorded it over Lucien that his brand new wife was a witch and he’d been made a fool of. 

She could see the hurt on Lucien’s face, knowing he’d given her his mothers ring. Elain still wore it, though she thought she should take it off so he could have it back. 

“Wait,” she breathed when Graysen stepped in. “Wait, you have me. Let the rest of them go.”

Graysen blinked. “You’ll all burn together.”

“But—but they’re not—”

Elain reached for him and for her trouble, was thrown black to the damp stone floor. Guards rushed in to bind her hands. She could hear them doing the same to the other pleading women who would go down with Elain. She twisted as Graysen pulled her forward, his face inches from hers.

“You should have taken what I offered when you had the chance,” he whispered. She hadn’t used any part of her magic while he was here, too afraid he’d realize what she was and come charging. But Graysen already had her, and for that, it didn’t matter if she confirmed what he already knew. Elain poured her magic outward, searching for the hunter.

All her anger, her hatred rushed out of her with enough force to slam Graysen to his knees. 

He didn’t budge, though she certainly felt a twin reaction of groaning, twisting pain on the other end. A pulsing plea for her to stop from someone too far away to help.

She was going to be sick. 

She knew the hunter was there—she’d felt him. She swore it, even as Graysen dragged her out of the dungeon and into the bright light of the village, Elain was willing to stake her life on the hunter somewhere among the crowd of villagers.

There was no joy on their faces. Not like when her mother had burned. No gleeful delight, no celebration. She saw horror and grief as five women were tied to unlit pyres.

No Lucien. That was for the best. Elain couldn’t stand the thought of him standing silent while she died before him. She didn’t want his cold indifference, his hatred, to be the last thing she saw. Elain closed her eyes when the soldiers came forward holding torches and willed herself to feel nothing. To give in to the curling smoke she knew would choke her first without ever feeling the licking flame. She could do that.

Amid the restless crowd murmuring in anger and the pleading women beside her, Elain swore she felt the ground shake. Rage—or something like it, silenced them all. Was it the goddess, angry she’d been thwarted by mere mortals? It was not Graysen’s place to kill Elain, after all.

The torch lit the kindling beneath her feet, warming the wood. Graysen was grinning, watching her with hungry eyes. He’d devour her, just as he’d wanted. She couldn’t look at him, and so she didn’t. Instead, Elain turned her gaze toward the horizon, and wondered what happened once she died.

Someone was coming down the hill, red hair aflame in the sunlight. His steps echoed in her blood as he pushed forward, eyes all but burning with hatred. Her husband.

Lucien Vanserra didn’t take his eyes off her, shimmering with magic she ought to have recognized the moment she’d seen him.

Lucien Vanserra—the man she’d been looking for her whole life. The first person she’d met when she’d come to this village.

And Lucien Vanserra, who spoke loudly as he pushed through the crowd. 

“Untie her. Right now. She belongs to me.”

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfic #i just miss posting elucien #thats literally why this is here im just missing them #and i think this is my favorite thing ive ever written

[sarcasmsweetie]

A Better Life, Part 1

This is an angsty Azriel story I've had floating around in my head for ages. I'm not sure how many parts this will be, but I anticipate at least 2 or 3 more parts to follow this!

Pairing: Azriel x Oldest Archeron Sister

Word count: 4.1k

Masterlist | Part 2

"Elain, I've brought tea. Do you think you can take a few sips for me?" I sat the teapot and cup on the side table next to her before gently stroking some hair out of her face. She hasn't been taking to this new life of ours very well, closing herself off and refusing to eat. But I have managed to get her to drink tea, ensuring she gets some sort of nutrients and calories into her system. I hope to move onto broth soon, but I don't want to push too hard, risking a regression on her behalf.

If it weren't for my hand already playing with her hair, I never would have noticed the faint nod she gave me before reaching for the cup. I was happy to sit in silence with her so long as she consumed something. I continued stroking her hair, remembering how much she enjoyed it when we were younger and how it would keep her calm, especially when life got hard after our family moved into that little shack. She has yet to show any sign of wanting me to stop, so I continued to stand behind her chair, looking out of the window with her while she slowly drank her tea.

Some moments passed before she set the cup down. A quick glance showed me she emptied it, and I smiled slightly at the sight. “Let me know if you want a refill, yes?” Another faint nod and we went back to watching the outdoor world in silence. She’s always been fond of flowers and plants, and this view showcased one of the most beautiful gardens I had ever seen. I was hopeful this view was helpful to her mental state and that she simply didn’t just keep coming here because she knew where this room was.

I was taking a mental inventory of flowers I didn’t recognize so I could look them up later, thinking maybe sharing some new facts about the plant-life in this new world would cheer her up some, when the door opened. I glanced over to Azriel, noticing his eyes flick between the two of us before being trained directly on Elain. Something in my chest twisted when our eyes met before feeling something I could only describe as a “click.” I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening - all I knew was that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the Illyrian male. He was always attractive, but seeing him with my new fae senses? He was the most breathtaking creature I have ever seen.

Since I was watching him so closely, I noticed that his eyes widened slightly when I felt the ‘click’ before a small smile appeared on his face. He approached Elain slowly, kneeling beside her. “Can I get you anything?” I was getting ready to respond, saying I’ve got my sister taken care of, before the most surprising thing happened.

She turned to him, doe eyes meeting his beautiful hazel ones, before quietly asking for more tea.

I shook my head, clearing away that horrid memory from six months ago. A lot has changed since then. The war ended and those in the Inner Circle have been working with other courts on retaining peace. Nesta continued to struggle for a long while after the war, but with the help of Feyre and Cassian, she sort of fell into her new role. Still a bit angry, understandably so, but less destructive and that’s more than I could ask for. Once it became clear that Elain was a Seer and not crazy, she has been flourishing. Gardening her days away with the brightest smile on her face. A smile that could mainly be attributed to a certain male. I shut down that train of thought the moment it entered my mind. Thinking of them together hurt in ways I never thought possible, and I didn’t enjoy that particular thought breaking through the numbness I built.

After some investigating, it became clear to me that Azriel was my mate. Our bond having clicked into place that day in the study, but it appears I’m not even good enough for my own soul mate as he has only had eyes for Elain from the moment it clicked.

I spoke to Rhys and Feyre a few different times, under the guise of general curiosity about what a bond is like. They confirmed what I initially felt that day, but that it feels different for them given that they chose to accept the bond and have been incredibly happy ever since. I asked Rhys once, about a month after the bond clicked, what it meant for a fae who was rejected by their mate. I pretended I was asking about Lucien since my sister made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, and wanted to see if he believed this rejected bond could have been playing at all into her depression. I’ll never forget the sad look that passed his eyes, saying that Lucien will forever feel incomplete. That there would be a gaping hole in his chest that couldn’t be filled. He’ll learn how to live with that feeling, maybe have days where he doesn’t think about it at all. But unless Elain accepts the bond, he’ll only ever feel an unrequited love of the most severe kind. He mentioned he didn’t think Elain rejecting the bond would impact her on this scale and that everything she was feeling was solely related to her lost life.

I thanked Rhys for the information, and I remember saying something vague about wanting to send Lucien a gift of some kind, something to show he wasn’t alone in this world and that he has friends if he chooses to accept us. But I walked away from Rhys, shutting down the rest of that conversation and locked myself in my room where I cried for the rest of the night. When I woke the next morning, I found that I didn’t feel anything at all. And for the last five months, I’ve continued to live in this sort of numbness. Seeing Feyre happy and finally living the life she’s deserved? Nothing. Watching Nesta tamper her anger and accepting the possibilities this world, and maybe even Cassian, offered her? Nothing. Watching Elain flirt and laugh with Azriel as if they were mated? For better or for worse, nothing.

Through all of this, what should have upset me was that no one noticed my own decline. I spent my entire life raising and caring for my sisters, knowing them better than anything else in this world. I knew when they would start to feel sick before they even knew, and began prepping various soups and collecting medicines to help. I sensed when a disagreement was about to break into all-out war and knew how to diffuse it immediately. Even when we had nothing, I organized birthday parties to celebrate our life and enjoy everything we were able to hold onto and make ourselves.

It was today, on my 29th birthday, that I realized I never had a birthday party. No one ever baked me a cake or brought me a present. Feyre would hug me, but given how much she hated her own birthday, she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge anyone’s birthday further than that. And it was this year’s hug that caused this internal spiral of mine. We had all just finished eating in the House of Wind and everyone was moving their way into the living room when she pulled me to the side. Didn’t say anything to me, just pulled me into a tight hug before walking away with a small smile on her face.

I stood in the entryway for a moment, letting all of my thoughts catch up to me, before Cassian’s booming voice called for me to join them. I moved quietly to the armchair closest to me, and it allowed me to look at everyone as they settled into their own spaces.

Amren was perched on Varian’s lap, and it was clear that they had zero intention of staying around us for much longer. Mor, Cassian, and Nesta shared a sofa nearest the fireplace. Mor and Cassian were talking about who knows what over a glass of wine while Nesta pretended she wasn’t listening in as she sipped on her own glass. Feyre had moved next to Rhys, where she sat on the arm of his chair, leaning against his shoulder as she tried to get caught up on what Mor and Cassian were discussing. Finally, I glanced over at Elain and Azriel, whispering to each other in soft tones while they sat on the loveseat. How fitting. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Azriel said something that made her giggle before biting her lip and looking up to him.

I tried to pull up some sort of anger, some disappointment, in an attempt to finally break away from this cold detachment. No matter how long I watched them, hoping the longer I watched, the more this ice would thaw, nothing changed. I no longer imagined what it would be like to be the one sitting with him, to be the one who made him laugh and his bright hazel eyes shine. I no longer imagined what it would be like to be the one who was loved by him, who was accepted by him. All there was now was just a hollowness in the center of my chest.

I don’t know how long I watched them whisper and laugh, but I eventually tore my eyes away only to see Feyre watching me with such strong sorrow. I continued looking at her, almost daring her to say something. But like every other moment in life where I would have appreciated someone stepping in on my behalf, she looked down at the glass of wine she held. It occurred to me that no one offered me a glass, and that’s when my decision was made.

Cassian was telling some story and when everyone broke out in laughter, I used the distraction to slip out of my chair and move my way to my room. I kept the door slightly open behind me so that I could keep track of when they all started to quiet down and settle in for the night. Keeping one ear trained on the door, I began packing a bag with all of my meager belongings. I didn't have many toiletries to pack as it turns out I had no one to impress. Most of my clothes had become far too big on me, and I never bothered to replace any of them. Falling into this numbness meant I no longer felt much of an appetite. Even tonight, with everyone in attendance, no one noticed that I simply pushed the food around my plate for the duration of the meal.

Once everything I wanted to take with me was packed, I pulled a coin purse from my bedside table. I had slowly been withdrawing funds from the account Rhys set up for me. I doubt anyone kept track of something as small as the account he created, but I figured since no one reached out asking about what I was purchasing with what I took, no one noticed that I took almost everything. I fully intend to pay Rhys back for this, but for now, it’s the only way I can leave and settle down somewhere else.

Feeling a need to explain myself, I wrote Feyre a letter. I felt I owed her something considering everything she and her mate were willing to share with me in order to help transition me into this new life. I briefly considered writing Nesta and Elain, but if they weren’t going to give me the time of day, I’ll allow myself to be petty enough to do the same. Once the letter was done, I sat back at my desk, waiting for the house to finally go quiet.

It took a few hours, as I expected it to. Once 30 minutes passed since the last voice quieted, I grabbed my bag, confirmed the coin purse was inside, and made my way to the front door. Walking silently along the corridor, I noticed Cassian had passed out in the living room along with Mor, but everyone else had gone to bed. I opened and closed the front door as silently as possible, not wanting to alert the two closest to me of my departure. Once the door was shut, I winnowed away. ___________

Feyre sat in the dining room and looked over her family with a fond smile. She noticed no one had a glass of wine with their dinners and she bit back a laugh. Once Cassian got in the mood, no one could escape his need to break into every bottle of wine he could see, and it appears everyone lost their taste for the beverage this evening. She made eye contact with Rhys, and he winked at her, most likely noticing the same thing she did.

Cassian, Amren, and Mor were arguing about who knows what, while Varian watched on with interest. Azriel was smiling as Elain described her latest garden plans and Feyre felt her heart lurch. Y/N never confided in her about what she felt for the Spymaster, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out, especially given the questions she had asked her and Rhys about mating bonds. Rhys shared the topic of his private conversation with Y/N about rejected bonds as he was concerned, but still Feyre didn’t bring it up. Her sister’s mating bond wasn’t her story to tell, though she did what she could in asking Azriel and Elain to cool off each other. Clearly that didn’t work as it only pushed them closer together. Feyre had an inkling that Azriel didn’t know about the bond with Y/N, that he wouldn’t be so heartless as to push her away like this if he felt it. However, knowing that didn’t help calm the growing concern she had for her eldest sister.

She turned her gaze to Y/N's normal spot, only to frown when she found it empty. “Has anyone seen Y/N today?” The table quieted down, everyone looking at the empty chair that caught Feyre’s attention as if they were all realizing at the same time the oldest Archeron wasn’t in attendance.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Probably realized there’s no need to come down to a meal and pretend to eat if she’s just going to sit around ignoring her food anyways.” Elain shrugged and Feyre felt a glare sharpen into place.

“How kind of you, as her sister, to notice she’s starving herself and do nothing about it, whereas she fought tooth and nail to ensure you consumed something every day when you were in the pit of your depression a few months ago,” Mor snarled. Before Azriel could jump in and defend Elain, Feyre interrupted.

“So no one has seen her, checked in on her?” At the silence that fell upon the table, a feeling of despair fell into her stomach like a rock. She quickly stood from the table and ran to Y/N's room. Surely she wouldn’t hurt herself, right? Feyre knows things haven’t been easy on her, and she felt guilty she didn’t do much to try and show that Y/N wasn’t alone. But she was just so busy in rebuilding that she assumed one of her other sisters or members of the Inner Circle would have been checking in on Y/N just as Y/N always checked in on them.

Y/N's bedroom door was open so Feyre didn’t hesitate to run in. “Y/N? Are you here?” She looked around the room and bathroom, noticing it was missing both her sister and quite a few of her belongings. A folded piece of paper with Feyre’s name on it caught her attention, and she grabbed it quickly. Tears forming and threatening to fall, Feyre stormed back into the dining room where it sounded like everyone was trying to retrace their steps as to when they last saw Y/N. From what Feyre heard, it doesn’t even sound like they knew she sat in the living room with them once they finished eating.

“Darling? Is she alright? What happened?” Feyre ignored her mate in favor of throwing the letter at Nesta, who was closest to her. The only sign of Nesta being startled by Feyre’s aggression was a quick blink.

“Read it.” Nesta looked up at Feyre, confusion evident in her eyes, but her facial expression otherwise kept neutral.

“Stop with the theatrics, Feyre, and just tell us -”

“Read the fucking letter, Nesta. Out loud.” Nesta straightened in her seat before grabbing the letter.

“Feyre, I’m sorry to leave in the middle o-” Nesta’s brows furrowed, and she cleared her throat before starting again. “I’m sorry to leave in the middle of the night without giving a proper goodbye. But I know myself well enough that if you asked me to stay, I would in a heartbeat, regardless of what your home is doing to me.

I love you, Feyre, but I can no longer stay in a place where I’m not welcomed, where I’m not wanted. Since the moment I was Made, I’ve felt my soul crack and break more and more each day. I allowed myself to grow numb to it in an attempt to save myself from the pain so that I could stay with you, sister.

However, I fear that staying will only make this numbness permanent. I’ve always been willing to fight and give every piece of myself to ensure my sisters were happy and safe, and I had foolishly believed my sisters would do the same for me. Sadly, I find myself with nothing left to give and no one willing to fight for me as I have fought for them.

I want to thank you and Rhys for the room you’ve given me these last few months. It was the kindest thing I remember anyone having done for me lately, and I am eternally grateful to you for that. I also want to thank Rhys for the funds he set up for me. I wish I didn’t have to, but I withdrew enough to help me get out of this Court. When I am able to, I will pay everything back. Until then, please don’t look for me. I will be fine." Nesta paused, but Feyre wouldn’t let her, urging her to keep reading.

"It’s funny. Even when I spent time with my sisters, I was never really with any of you, was I? Surrounded by everyone and I was still on my own. Maybe being away will finally give me the opportunity to discover who I am. I wish I could have learned it with all of you as you discovered who you were, but I suppose fate had something else in mind for me.

I’m so proud of you, Feyre. You’ve finally found yourself the life you deserve, and I am so happy for you and Rhys to have each other, to be able to live your best and most wonderful lives. I hoped to find that happiness here, and I am so sorry it didn’t work out that way.

I’ll write to you once I find a place I can settle down, a place I can finally call home. I don’t think I can bring myself to come to your city again, but I hope that when the time comes, you and Rhys would be willing to visit me. Whenever and wherever that may be.

Until next time, little dove. Y/N”

The room was silent as everyone absorbed the words Nesta read. Rhys watched his mate, trying to get a sense of where her thoughts were, but unable to read her. Azriel, Elain, and Cassian were looking at Nesta with shock written on their faces. Mor looked furious, but it was Amren who spoke up.

“What else did you expect? You’ve treated your sister like shit since the moment you arrived, and I’m certain that’s not new behavior. Wouldn’t be surprised if she spent her entire life dealing with your ungrateful asses.” She began pushing the food around her plate like she used to before the war turned her entirely fae, a sign that she was genuinely upset.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, but you know nothing of my sister -” Elain began.

“Clearly, neither did you. She’s been withering away for months and you all just sat back and let it happen. Sure, Feyre would check in whenever she had a free moment, but a free moment wasn’t enough, was it? The support and concern of only one of her sisters wasn’t enough, was it? She said it herself - she gave her life to all of you and received nothing for it. Goes to show what she thinks of you and Nesta considering she didn’t even mention you in her letter or write a separate note for either of you.” Everyone stared at Amren, but Mor nodded in agreement.

“I know better than anyone that even family can be toxic and detrimental to your health. Good for her for getting out and doing what’s right for her.” Elain tried to continue arguing with Mor and Amren, mentioning things about how selfish Y/N is for leaving, but Feyre couldn’t stay here. She felt Rhys reach out to her through the bond, but not even her mate could ease the guilt that was threatening to drown her. The guilt of not trying to do more, the shame that she couldn’t trust her family to look after one of their own.

Feyre watched as Rhys stood from his seat. “I’ll go write to the High Lords, let them know what’s going on.”

“Yes! Tell them to find her and drag her back home. I don’t know what she was thinking -” Rhys looked at Elain with such unrestrained rage that she shut up immediately, paling slightly.

“I am not writing to them to ask them to ‘drag her back home.’ She made it clear she wants nothing to do with Velaris, with this Court, and we will respect that. I’m writing to them to ask for their permission to let her pass through their courts. Unless you want your broken oldest sister to have an even shittier time by being arrested and thrown into a cell for trespassing.” Elain stormed from the room and Feyre watched Amren roll her eyes.

Cassian stood and moved to Rhys. “I’ll help deliver the letters once they’re ready. Az, how about you?” Everyone watched as Azriel looked between his brothers and where Elain ran off to, unable to move or say anything. Cassian scoffed at him. “Great, I’ll take care of this myself. Let’s go Rhys. She’s got almost a full 24 hours ahead of us. Who knows where she could be right now or who she could have run into. Do you think she's moving on foot? Can she even winnow?"

Feyre followed Cassian and Rhys out of the dining room, leaving Mor and Amren to scold Azriel for not being able to do anything while Nesta continued to look at her older sister’s letter. Of course Nesta noticed what was happening to her sister. But she didn’t know how to comfort. Only how to ignore and hope that it builds a stronger shield. Not the best course of action, but it was no secret to her sisters. She had also noticed that Y/N shut down the moment Azriel and Elain began to grow closer. I hoped to find that happiness here.

Nesta released a humorless laugh, and that cut off whatever discussions were going around her. “Here’s to you finding the life you deserve, sister.” She set the letter on the table before standing. Looking at Azriel, she scowled. “She certainly deserves better than anyone in this Court.”

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #acotar #bri's writing

[ellievickstar]

Another Kind of Love

Summary: With Azriel’s terrible track record with females of course another one would not be any different….right?

Ship: Azriel x Reader, Cassian x sister!reader

Genre: angst ends in fluff

Warnings: Insecurities, over bearing males, self-hate, comparing self with others

Inspiration: I thought about making this inspired by the song “Heart breaker” but decided against it and now this.

A/N: @cityofidek I hope you like it and to everyone else who does not understand a word of the story. I didn’t proof read it I actually don’t proof read any of my work so good luck I know when it’s POVs it is technically 3rd person but bear with me.

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Cassian’s POV:

Cassian had to watch it all. From Gwyn to Mor to one of the Archeron sisters. His brother certainly could not choose. He was frustrated with his brother because he knew that Azriel more then anyone deserved to be happy. Cassian himself had Nesta, Rhysand had Feyre, Amren had Varian and Elain had opted for Lucien in the end.

Cassian sighed before pinching his nose when suddenly a letter appeared in front of him. It was from his sister:

Dear Cass,

I know it has been a while since the war. The female legions are going home for the Winter Solstice and to spend time with their families before coming back in two weeks. I’m going over to the townhouse right now as I send this. Don’t worry big brother, I’ve already sent a letter to Rhys and please tell Az that I said hello! If you can even find him before I arrive.

Love,

Your still very lovable sister, Y/N

Cassian snorted at ‘lovable’. Annoying was a better word to describe the little scoundrel, but she and the rest of his brothers got along like family. Cassian had been given the young girl when she was a babe. All he was told was that she was his sister and that his mother wished for him to have her before the other Illyrians had killed her. One of her friends ran away with the baby to bring it to Cassian.

That was the same day he had gone berserk on the males who harmed his mother. But when he returned at the end of the day, he had held his sister in his arms, looked into those warm hazel eyes and he had known inside that he wanted to take care of her. Since then he taught her everything, how to fly, walk, handle her Illyrian power, even stick up to Devlon. She had delighted in the fact that she needed more siphons then him and Azriel, and he had pretended to be envious of the little girl, but inside all he really felt was sheer pride for the girl. Rhysand had also helped with her powers, she had been gifted similar powers to him so he spent his time training her, even though him and Rhysand was often at each other’s throats.

Then there was the blood week in the mountain….

He shuddered at the memory. She had succeeded, but she had been alone. Not like him, Az and Rhys. No she had gone up that damned mountain and had touched that stone alone. The will of a warrior, but the weeks he spent next to her, tending to her wounds that were so deep you could see bone…he did not want to think of it.

His sister was now a commander of her own legion, full of females. They were treated like males, fairly. They bonded well, the whole camp was sisters, in their own way. He smiled at the thought. His sister was able to build a whole camp to house many females. Not all, but it made an impact and to a lot of people that was enough. Not to her though, she always strived for more.

It wasn’t long before she came knocking on the townhouse’s door, Rhysand practically flung it open with a wild grin. She laughed as he enveloped her in the tightest hug before Cassian interrupted.

“You know she is supposed to be my sister,” He folded his arms as he leaned against the wall closest to them. She chuckled as he wrapped her arms around him, “To think you said you hated me,” “You drank the last bit of the wine I brought out!” She just burst into laughter again and slapped his forearm before hugging him, again.

Just then Azriel swept into the room, smiling for once as he took in the sight of her. “Where is my hug?” He teased as he opened his arms for her. They also got along, even when the three of them were adults and she was just a child there was always a click between the shadow singer and his sister.

That is ridiculous. Cassian thought to himself. Yes there is only a fifty year difference between them, but Azriel would never date my sister. However, as he watched his sister laugh with Az, he was not too sure about that. And the way Azriel looked at her…

No, Az could not like his sister, he would never allow that. Not when Azriel pines over someone new every other few decades. He looked over at his sister again, together with his almost-brother. They could not ever think to date each other, right?

Oh they absolutely could. Rhys’s voice echoed in his mind and he instantly glanced at the High Lord. Rhys just shrugged and continued to look at the pair that was still embracing each other, still. Annoyed, Cassian stepped in.

“Okay break it up, we get it,” He made his annoyance evident in his voice as he pulled them apart. “Don’t need to be jealous brother,” Y/N teased but that ticked him off more then she knew so he just glared at her. A general ordering his commander. Little did he think that he would find that the commander would fight right back. She glared at him, a challenge. She would tolerate his overprotectiveness especially after the wars but this, with her best friends, she would not stand for it.

Just as a brawl was about to start, the females of the inner circle came back from their little shopping trip for the winter solstice. Mor paused at the door before running to Y/N, the tears evident in her eyes. “I haven’t seen you since the war against Hybern!” Mor laughed as they hugged and cried. Feyre just stepped into the house, slightly confused, Nesta did not say anything and Amren just smirked at the woman slightly. That was when Cassian realised that the Acheron sisters had never really met his sister.

“Ladies, this is Y/N, my sister by blood,” Cassian stumbled over words as he glanced at Nesta, whose shoulders suddenly seemed to droop with relief, she smiled warmly at Y/N. Feyre’s eyes seemed to gleam before asking, “Older or younger?” Oh no. “I’m younger then Cassian by half a century,” Y/N’s smile was like a Cheshire Cat. “So you are familiar with annoying these brutes?” Feyre pushed further, her smile widening. Y/N looked just about ready to plot Cassian’s demise and he knew it, he gulped and so did Azriel and Rhysand. They were no stranger to her antics.

At least their getting along? Azriel spoke to them mind to mind. Rhysand rolled his eyes. Please they would get along regardless the only thing that would deter them would be if she ever caused us immense trauma.

Cassian furrowed his eyebrows before asking. Is causing us pain as children from all her mischief not trauma already? Azriel almost burst out laughing and Rhys’s shoulders shook with the effort. Feyre, being able to hear the whole conversation with her power shot them looks that might have killed them if she really tried.

Before long Y/N was tired and she needed to unpack her bags in the room that was usually for her when she came over. Which was not as often as before since she was busy after the war. Unfortunately, now she would be coming over a lot more since she promised Mor, despite the three Illyrian males’s protests.

Nuala and Cerridwen also had to interrupt the reunion because supper was almost done. So with the snap of her fingers Y/N’s bags was in her room and she was in her hoodie and pants. Contrasting to some people’s expensive taste in clothes, Y/N preferred hoodies, shirts, pull overs, jumpers and pants. There were times she wore skirts but only if she felt like it. Cauldron knows what happened the last time someone tried to force her into wearing something she did not want to wear.

Cassian huffed a laugh at the thought and followed the rest of the inner circle, and his mate, to supper.

Y/N POV:

Supper was as good as I remember especially with Nuala and Cerridwen cooking. The two wraiths had always been friends with me since I met them when Rhys first brought me to Velaris. They were also my favourite people to cook with, Mother knows the males cannot cook a meal to save their lives. No, they could only cook meat on a stick, over a fire. I had yet to thank Nuala and Cerridwen for keeping them alive.

Feyre and Nesta were absolute delights to be around, though Nesta was slightly protective of her mate. Understandably so but to think that I would ever date my brother of flesh and blood. Naseau rolled in my gut. Please, I would not even last a day, I would kick him out of the house.

Amren was as per usual, although she was Fae now, she still had that uncanny aura that made her terrifying, but of course I missed her. Cassian and Rhys were just as annoying as the last time they visited my camp but they have been for the past five centuries. I think I would be more afraid if they stopped bothering me all the time. Even when I was busy after the war and the cauldron, they still came by occasionally to make me go insane. And Azriel…

I looked at the shadow singer beside me and he flashed me a small smile before going back to eating, it made my heart flutter slightly, I chided myself. Azriel has liked so many other females, what makes you think he would like you? Might as well stop while you are ahead. Besides, your brother would kill you. Speaking of my brother, Cassian was wolfing down his food, lifting his head once in a while only to pick out bones from his meat just to toss them at me.

I would glare at him but he would ignore me. I knew if I told him to stop he would, but I did not say anything, I didn’t actually mind. Besides the fact that the bits of meat that stuck to the bone got matted in my hair sometimes. Cassian would never mind if I dated anyone, but his best friend and almost brother? Now that was cruel, or so says all my romance novels I enjoyed reading.

I sighed as I pushed around the remaining food on my plate.

“Y/N, are you not going to eat any more food? You barely touched anything,” Feyre asked, concern was evident but I shook my head. I had never eaten a lot as a child until now. It was a bad habit, yes, but it was what I was used to. I used to be insecure and there had been a time the lack of eating had stemmed from a fear of becoming overweight, but it was a really long time ago I figured that I just did not really like to eat.

“No, Feyre it’s fine the food is as good as I remember I just don’t eat a lot. You can ask the three males they have tried to force me to eat but I just don’t like eating in general,” I explained.

“Unless it’s chocolate,” Cassian chipped in.

“Or cookies,” Rhysand muttered.

“Or sandwiches but it has to depend on the day. Peanut butter is a good snack and she likes chocolate syrup the most during the night. However, if you touch the ice cream she most likely stored in the fridge she will and can slit your throat unless you promise to buy her more. Also for chocolate she prefers white because she finds dark way too bitter,” Azriel added. Well, added was an understatement.

I gaped at him. Not even Cassian knew so much about me especially about my snacking preferences. Rhysand looked positively delighted while Cassian was torn between throttling Azriel, being the overprotective brother he is, or laughing at the fact I was so defensive about ice cream. Azriel just continued to eat as if nothing happened. Feyre, Amren and Nesta shared what looked to be a knowing glance and I was confused.

Yes, Azriel knew a lot about me, apparently, but what was the big deal? I knew plenty about Azriel too, like how he preferred dark purple because it reminded him of Rhys especially during Amarantha’s reign. Azriel enjoyed his shadows because they usually whispered to him when he was lonely. There were times they got too overwhelming which were the days he brooded the most.

However, as much as I loved Azriel, secretly, for the past three centuries. He could never reciprocate my feelings, he could have any female in all of Velaris for cauldron’s sake! The thought made me sick, Azriel could never love me. Never.

I stood suddenly. Apologising, saying that I was tired from the journey here, since I could not winnow. And as I walked down the hallway, tears slid down my cheeks. Azriel could never be mine, it echoed in my soul, rung in my head.

“Wait, Y/N!” Azriel called, “You forgot your- are you crying?” And as I looked up at the male. The bond snapped into place and for a second hope flared in my heart but Azriel did not seem fazed at all. Then it hit me.

The bond had only snapped into place for me. Only for me.

Mother was cruel after all. Azriel’s eyes still flooded with that worry and I shook my head. “It’s nothing, I’m fine Az,” I tried so hard for my voice not to crack. Az did not seem convinced but he passed me my bracelet, the one that Cass had given me when I was younger which I had taken off for supper and had left at the table, before he strolled back to the table.

My mate, the bond was there when I reached down. And as I turned to my room and closed the door, I thanked the mother that at least I had one, even if he could never truly be mine.

I changed into my nightgown which was really just an oversized shirt that reached my knees and lay down for a bit, maybe tomorrow would be better.

THE NEXT DAY

I blinked against the steady stream of sunlight through the window. It was dawn, which meant that I needed to get up. I stretched my wings. Time to train. Changing into my Illyrian leathers, I tied my hair into braids, grabbed my weapons belt and brought along my favourite daggers.

Cassian was at the dining table eating breakfast with Azriel. I smiled at both of them, my gaze lingering on my mate before I took some chocolate and began to eat.

“That’s it?” Cassian asked. “For the Mother’s sake you’re going to train!” I shot him a look that promised a slow death if he said anything else, but he just shrugged and went back to eating.

It was not long before Cassian and I were sparring, Az long gone to spy on some court for Rhys.

“So,” Cassian started as dodged my attack, feigning right trying to hit my side but I easily avoided him, “Az tells me you were crying last night,” He blocked as I delivered a swift punch, aiming for his face.

“And?” I asked as ducked under his fist just to sweep my feet to cause him to lose balance, he did, just for a second but it counted as I attacked and he fell to the ground. I flexed my body, stretching my wings.

“Mind telling your brother why?” I shook my head as I took out my blade, flipping it in my palm. The blade was one of my favourites i had named it ‘mortifer’ Cassian had laughed at the name since it quite literally meant bringer of death. I sighed as I angled the blade, “It’s just that Az is-,” “For Azriel’s sake he better not have hurt you,” He but in as he sharpened his own sword.

I huffed out a breath, “Azriel is my mate,” I admitted. Cassian stilled. And like the very fiery Piet of a volcano, his eyes turned to molten lava.

Cassian’s POV:

There was a ringing in his head as he turned to his sister. No, no, no. She couldn’t actually be his best friend’s mate. But one look at his sister and he knew that she was not joking.

He was going to kill Azriel. Inside he knew that Azriel deserved happiness but his sister? That was a line, and they were toeing it. Unable to control his anger he flew back to the town house in a fit of rage as he called for Rhysand mind to mind, leaving his sister calling to him to get his ass back to the training ring. He was not thinking straight, he knew that but he didn’t care much.

DID YOU KNOW!? He yelled at Rhys through the mental link in their heads as he tried to search for the High Lord.

Did I know what? Rhysand asked disquiet was crystal clear in his voice.

My sister and our dear fried Azriel, who is going to die, are mates! Mates! He gritted his teeth as he flung open the final door in the town house where Rhys could have been but nothing. Rhysand seemed to be laughing and Cassian almost snarled, almost.

I’m happy for them but have you considered that Azriel doesn’t know? Rhys question flipped a switch in Cassian and he realised that he had left his sister alone, she was probably scared. He knew she could hold her own but he needed to go back, to help her. And maybe, just maybe, get answers.

Y/N POV:

Cassian had left in a fit of rage, probably to go throw a tantrum but I prayed to the cauldron he wouldn’t tell Azriel anything. The beat of wings could suddenly be heard from a distance and as my eyes looked to the sky, I huffed a sigh of relief as my brother came into view, landing in front of me. His face like the harsh night sky in the mountains.

“Does he know?” He asked smoothly, arms crossed. I shook my head so he continued his questioning, “Are you going to tell him?” I shook my head again.

“Why?”

The question made me freeze because it did not come from Cassian, that voice had come from the shadow singer who know stood behind me. Cassian growled at Azriel and Az, for all intents and purposes, seemed all to read to snap back at him. Mother, give me patience or a dagger for these two.

“Cassian go home,” I ordered, the command in my voice was like steel, but I was quaking on the inside. Cassian was about to contradict me but something flickered in his eyes, my happiness, Azriel’s happiness, or his own need to protect his sister. There was a choice there and I waited in trepidation as Cassian looked torn between the two options.

Fortunately, he paced back a few. Steps before shooting into the sky. I sighed, taking down a mental note to thank him later. Azriel coughed from behind me and as I whirled to face the shadows singer, he looked sorrowful, disappointed.

“Is having me as a mate that bad?” His voice was quiet, so quiet. “No, it’s just-,” I looked at him again before gesturing to the whole of Velaris, “You could have anyone in the whole city, any female. How could I compete with that?” My tone grew heavier with every word. That was when I was swept off my feet, my wings draped heavily as Az carried me to the town house and brought me straight to his room.

“You are my mate,” He deadpanned as he hugged me the second he set me down, “You are more beautiful then any female in Velaris. Mins,” He was muffle as his face was buried in my hair. I giggled at the war sensation of his breath that skittered down my scalp to my neck.

“In tha case,” I started, reaching down to my pocket to pull out an almost melted chocolate bar, “Eat it,” I offered. And he did.

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A/N: Imma let your imagination flow for this one. This got long so it took so long to write, I’ve been writing this since Thursday and for me it’s Saturday in the morning. Anyways, I hope you guys like this one cause I did <3

tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @starlit-terror @hideing @flightlesslittlebirdie @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123 @bookworm-nerd6 @gigisssz @bethany-bee0128 @cityofidek

#azriel #azriel angst #acosf #acotar fandom #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #azriel acotar #mor acotar #cassian #amren #amren acotar #amren x reader #acofas #acomaf #cassian acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acomaf #azriel and reader #Azriel fluff #Shadow singer x reader #Cassian’s sister #Sister!reader

[praetorqueenreyna]

ACOTAR Fandom Demographics Survey Results!!!

(Hold onto your schlong, this post is gonna be LONG)

Thank you, ACOTAR fans, for participating in the fandom demographics survey! There were a total of 351 participants who took the survey, and I am extremely grateful for everyone's contributions. I've spent quite a bit of time sifting through the data determining how best to share my findings. I've decided to break them up into several categories, and each section will have the methods, results, and discussion of that category all together.

I do want to remind everybody that this is meant to be in good fun. I don't want any ship wars or character hate in the notes of this post, nor do I want anybody to take these results as a personal attack. Without further ado, let's get into it!

Table of Contents

Overall results of the survey

Preferences of fans based on age and sexuality

Trends based on the characters/ships that people like/dislike

Conclusion and overall thoughts

1. Overall results of the survey

This is, essentially, just the raw data with each option visualized as a percentage of the total number of participants. Click on the pie graphs to see them better.

Age, Gender, and Sexuality

The largest percentage of fans are in the age range 18-24 years old (44%). 26% are 25-30 years old, 16% are under 18 years old, 12% are 31-40 years old, and 2% are over 41 years old.

An overwhelming proportion of fans identify as female 92%. 5% are non-binary, 1% are other, and 1% are questioning. There was one male who took the survey (whoever you are, keep your head high king!)

The most common sexuality was straight (46%), followed by bisexual (30%). 8% are asexual, 6% are questioning, 5% are pansexual, 3% are lesbians, and 2% are other.

Based on this, most ACOTAR fans are young women who are attracted to men, which makes sense, considering that is the target demographic. I also did not do any further comparisons between fans based on gender, simply because there aren't enough non-women to draw any real conclusions.

Favorite and least favorite book in the series

The second book, A Court of Mist and Fury, is the favorite book in the series (40%), followed by A Court of Silver Flames (23%). 17% chose A Court of Thorns and Roses as their favorite, 17% chose A Court of Wings and Ruin, 2% chose A Court of Frost and Starlight, and 1% couldn't pick a favorite.

The novella A Court of Frost and Starlight was the least favorite book (41%), followed by A Court of Silver Flames (25%). 20% chose A Court of Thorns and Roses, 6% chose A Court of Mist and Fury, 6% chose A Court of Wings and Ruin, and 2% couldn't pick a least favorite.

Overall, A Court of Mist and Fury is the fan favorite and not a lot of people liked A Court of Frost and Starlight. A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Silver Flames are pretty controversial: about an equal number picked them as their favorite AND least favorite book. It makes sense for ACOTAR, since that book is so different from the other books and focuses on Tamlin and the Spring Court, whereas the other books focus on the Night Court and Inner Circle, which are fan favorites. ACOSF also seems to be pretty controversial, with it's focus on Nesta, who herself is a somewhat controversial character.

Favorite Character and Least Favorite Character

(Note: for characters, I differentiated between all the top contenders and combined all the ones that only got a few votes into the section "Other.")

The favorite character is Nesta Archeron (23%), followed by Lucien Vanserra (18%). Next is Elain Archeron (12%), Feyre Archeron (10%), Rhysand (7%), Azriel (7%), Cassian (6%), Eris Vanserra (6%), Gwyneth Berdara (5%), and then other characters fill out the remaining 7%.

The least favorite characters were pretty evenly split between true villains (Ianthe, the King of Hybern, Amarantha, etc) and non-villain characters (Rhysand, Morrigan, Tamlin, etc). The most disliked character was Ianthe (19%), followed by Rhysand (16%). Then Amarantha (13%), Beron Vanserra (9%), the King of Hybern (7%), Morrigan (5%), Tamlin (5%), Nesta (4%), Elain (4%), Amren (4%), and other characters for the remaining 15%.

The Archeron sisters, Vanserra brothers, and the Bat boys make up almost the entirety of the favorite characters. The least favorite characters were a lot more diverse and spread out, but generally the true villains were disliked the most.

Favorite Ship and Least Favorite Ship

(Note: I did the same thing for ships as for characters, where the lowest voted for ships are combined into an "Other" category)

The number one favorite ship is Feyre/Rhysand (22%) followed closely by Cassian/Nesta (19%). Next is Lucien/Elain (16%), Azriel/Elain (13%), Azriel/Gwyn (6%), and Azriel/Eris (5%). 6% said their ship wasn't present in the survey, and the remaining 10% is in the category "Other".

The number one least favorite ship is Azriel/Elain (26%). Then Feyre/Tamlin (12%), Tamlin/Elain (11%), Feyre/Rhysand (10%), Azriel/Gwyn (7%), Tamlin/Rhysand (4%), Cassian/Nesta (4%), Lucien/Elain (4%), Rhysand/Nesta (3%), with the remaining 20% being covered in the "Other" category.

Most of the ship likes/dislikes seem centered around who Elain is paired with, and who Azriel is paired with. Feyre features surprisingly little in the ship wars (other than between Feysand and Feylin), and she isn't shipped with any other characters despite being the main character.

Favorite and Least Favorite Aspect of the Series

The characters themselves are overwhelmingly fandom's favorite aspect of the series (44%). 16% said their favorite was the romance/smut, 13% is the character development, 12% is the worldbuilding, 5% is the canon ships, 5% is the plot, and 5% is any other aspect.

The "other" category had the most votes for least favorite aspect of the series, at 32%. The worldbuilding aspect had 20% of the votes as least favorite, then 17% for the plot, 15% for the character development, 7% for the characters, 5% for the canon ships, and 5% for the romance/smut.

People really like the characters in this series, which makes sense for fandom! I'll admit that this section's flaws are the lack of options, so it also makes sense that so many people chose "other" as their favorite/least favorite aspect of the series.

2. Preferences of fans based on age and sexuality

For this section, I wanted to see if there were trends in favorite/least favorite things based on age and sexuality. I ran a chi-square test, which looks at differences between categorical variables with a significance factor of p=0.05 (or, there being a 5% chance that any differences between categories are due to random error and not actual differences).

A chi-square test works best with 2 categories that have an approximate equal number of samples. To this end, I combined ages and sexualities in the following ways:

"Under 18 years old" and "18-24 years old" are combined in a category of "younger" fans. The remaining three age groups (comprised of fans aged 25 and older) are combined into a category of "older" fans. This gave us 209 younger fans and 142 older fans.

Every fan that didn't identify as straight was combined into a single category of "queer" fans. This gave us 163 straight fans and 188 queer fans

Age

There was no difference between younger and older fans in their least favorite book, favorite ship, and favorite/least favorite aspect of the series (p>0.05).

More younger people have Rhysand and Amarantha as their least favorite character than older people (p=0.02), and more younger people picked Feylin, Feysand, and Nessian as their least favorite ship than older people (p=0.05).

While not statistically significant, there were also trends in more younger people having ACOTAR as their favorite book (p=0.1) and Feyre as their favorite character (p=0.1).

Sexuality

There was no difference between queer and straight fans and their least favorite book, favorite/least favorite character, and favorite/least favorite aspect of the series (p>0.05).

More queer fans have ACOTAR as their favorite book, and more straight fans have ACOMAF as their favorite book (p=0.0007). More queer fans have Azris as their favorite ship, and more straight fans have Gwynriel as their favorite ship (p=0.03). In general, queer people had a much greater variety in their favorite ships (they had more favorites in the Ship Not Present and Other category).

While not statistically significant, there was also a trend of queer people having Feylin, Feysand, and Tamlain as their least favorite ship, and more straight people have Gwynriel as their favorite ship (p=0.08).

In general, there are actually not huge differences between younger/older fans, and queer/straight fans! I do think it's interesting that both younger people AND queer people prefer ACOTAR as their favorite book.

3. Trends based on the characters/ships that people like/dislike

For this section, I wanted to isolate all the people who voted for something in one category, and look at the other choices they made. So, for example, looking at the least favorite character from people who voted for Nesta as their favorite character. So these stats ONLY take into account the people who voted in that category. I restricted the characters/ships that got the most votes in each category.

General trends

To keep this from getting too long and dull, I will only report on the findings that I find particularly interesting. Some general trends I saw that don't seem specific to each category are:

the "least favorite character" being a true villain (Ianthe, Amarantha, King of Hybern, etc).

The least favorite ship being Azriel/Elain

The least favorite book being ACOFAS

I'll write out all the results, but here's a table of the trends I saw

Favorite character

People who voted for Nesta dislike Rhysand, and their favorite ship is Nessian. They also tend to dislike Feylin and Feysand, and their favorite book is ACOSF.

For Lucien, they dislike Ianthe and Rhysand, the favorite ship is Elucien, and the least favorite ship is Elriel (the most popular rival ship for Elain). Their favorite books are ACOTAR and ACOMAF.

For Elain, the overwhelming favorite ship is Elriel (85%), and they dislike Tamlain and Gwynriel (both rival ships for Elain and Azriel, respectively).

For Feyre and Rhysand, the favorite ship is Feysand and the favorite book is ACOMAF (true for people who voted for either of them as their favorite character).

Least favorite character

Again, most people voted for true villains in this category and there weren't many interesting trends. I did find that people that voted for Rhysand as their least favorite like Nesta and Lucien, and their least favorite ship is Feysand. Their favorite ships are in the "Other" or "Ship Not Present" category, and their favorite book is ACOTAR.

Favorite ship

For Feysand, the favorite characters are Feyre and Rhysand, the least favorite ship is Feylin, and the favorite book is ACOMAF. Interestingly, Feysand fans voted for the "true villains" for their least favorite character over Tamlin, who only got 8% of the vote for least favorite character. More evidence that the villains and non-villains should be split up for the "least favorite character" category.

For Nessian, the favorite character is overwhelmingly Nesta (only 22% of Nessian stans voted for Cassian as their favorite) and the favorite book is ACOSF.

For Elucien, the favorite character is Lucien, and the favorite book is ACOMAF.

For Elriel, the favorite character is Elain, least favorite ships are Tamlain and Gwynriel, and the favorite book is ACOWAR.

For Gwynriel, the favorite character is Gwyn, and the favorite book is ACOSF.

Least favorite ship

For people who disliked Elriel, the favorite character tends to Lucien, and the favorite ships are Elucien and Gwynriel. They also like Nessian and Feysand. Favorite books are ACOMAF and ACOSF.

For people who dislike Feylin, the favorite character is Nesta, and the favorite ships are Nessian and Feysand. Favorite book is ACOMAF, least favorite book is ACOTAR.

For people who dislike Tamlain, their favorite character is Elain and the favorite ship is Elriel. I'm honestly surprised that so many people HATE Tamlin/Elain this much, I didn't even know it was a major ship?

For people who dislike Feysand, the favorite characters are Nesta and Lucien and the least favorite character is Rhysand. Favorite book is ACOTAR, least favorite is ACOMAF.

For people who dislike Gwynriel, the favorite character is Elain, and the favorite ship is Elriel.

4. Conclusion and overall thoughts

So here we are! I'm sure there are some things here that are not a surprise (e.g. Feysand stans liking ACOMAF and dislike ACOTAR), and some things that are a surprise (nobody likes ACOFAS). If anybody else has more thoughts on these results and what they mean, I would love to hear them.

In general, I hope this survey reveals that there is no one, singular, overwhelming "fandom" making decisions and casting blame. Even the most popular characters/ships didn't get more than 25% of the total fandom vote! There is not one ship ruling the rest of us, there are about 5-6 popular ships with plenty of fans who love that ship. I hope that fans will read this survey and see ACOTAR fandom as a diverse community of fans with plenty of space for everybody to co-exist.

I welcome any and all questions and comments! Anybody that wants to see my stats or raw data need only ask, and I will be more than happy to share. There were some issues inherent in the survey that are due to my own mistakes, so I would not be OPPOSED to running an updated survey sometime in the future.

Stay safe, be kind, and thank you again for your participation.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #elain archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #cassian #azriel #lucien vanserra #tamlin #eris vanserra #feysand #feylin #elucien #nessian #elriel #gwynriel #azris #acomaf #acofas #acosf #acotar survey #IT IS DONE #LOOK UPON MY WORKS AND WEEP #I AM ALSO WEEPING

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

Chapter 20

Masterlist

AO3

Warnings: None

The hot sun was blaring down on Elain’s shoulders as they walked the empty streets of the city. Her fingers twitched at her sides because they longed to connect with Azriel’s, so she ended up wrapping them along the strap of her purse to suppress her impulses. 

Mor was walking in front of her, following security protocol, and Azriel was trailing behind Elain. Their cover was that Azriel came along simply for extra security for her today, not that anyone had asked, but the if of someone asking was a real possibility.  

“Are we almost there?” Elain asked, eagerly. They had been walking for almost twenty minutes now, entering a place of the city that Elain had never seen before. A quieter part that Elain suspected only people who were born and raised here knew about. 

“Yes.” Azriel said from behind her. 

He couldn’t see the smile on her face as she heard his voice. 

“I’m excited.” Elain said, as if she was talking to him face to face. She nervously adjusted her bucket hat on her head. 

“Me too.” Azriel said softly, and Elain fought the urge to look over her shoulder at him, but she didn’t bother to stifle the smile spreading across her face. 

Mor’s tall build came to a stop, the sun making her blonde curls look exceptionally light, and grinned broadly at them as she turned around. Her hands placed on her hips. 

“Do you want to take the lead from here?” Mor asked, looking over Elain’s shoulder to Azriel. 

Even though he didn’t say anything, Elain knew he nodded in response. 

He silently moved behind her, stealthily and confidently clasping their hands as he walked by Elain, tugging her along so that they walked side by side. 

They rounded the corner with Mor taking up the rear, and Elain finally saw a little hole in the wall shop. One that she would have continued to walk by if Azriel wasn’t leading her to it. Despite the green trim that stood out from the brick building, it blended in with its surroundings. 

Azriel pushed the door open and the delicate, silvery sound of a bell alerted the owner to their presence. 

“Hello!” A sweet sounding voice called out, and Elain couldn’t help herself from smiling in response. Maybe it was the way that Azriel still held her hand, or maybe it was the smell of coffee that filled in the air, or maybe it was simply the knowledge of having a second date with Azriel. 

But Elain was still smiling when the shop owner came out of what Elain assumed to be the kitchen. 

Dark, dark hair streaked with silver was piled on top of her head in cascading curls. It was impressive that she had managed to get all of her hair pulled into a bun like that from the sheer quantity of it. And her bright green eyes were alight with openness as she looked at them. 

The owner continued their way, a flour covered black apron tied around her waist, and she reached out to Azriel with open arms. 

Azriel immediately dropped Elain’s hand to embrace her. 

“Ma,” Azriel said fondly, “There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

Elain’s heart thundered in her chest. 

Azriel’s. Mother. 

She nervously ran her palms over the length of her dress. 

Azriel pulled away, looking as happy as Elain had ever seen him, he kept one arm over his mother’s shoulders and used his free hand to gesture to Elain. 

“This is Elain Archeron, my girlfriend.”  Azriel said proudly. 

Elain felt her throat constrict a bit, but she managed to lift her hand up enough to give a small wave. 

“Good Morning, Ma’am.” Elain said, her throat parched. 

“Ma’am?” Azriel’s mom waved her off. “Please call me Paloma.” 

She took a step away from her son and offered Elain a hug. 

Elain willed herself to move forward and accept her offering. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Paloma said warmly, gently rubbing Elain’s back. “I’ve heard so much about you?”

“Oh?” Elain jolted a bit, and they both ended up pulling away. Her brows knitted together as she looked at Azriel. “You have?” 

“Not from my son, of course,” Paloma waved her hand in the air dismissively. “The first time I hear from him in three months and he calls me at the crack of dawn to let me know he’ll be stopping by,” She rolled her green eyes affectionately. “But I read about you all the time in the paper, I thought for sure you were going to be married to that Graysen by the end of the year,” Elain’s heart sank like a deflated balloon. “I was so shocked when you two were broken up, and then of course they ran that picture of you and my Azriel in the paper and I knew I was looking at my future daughter-in-law.”

“Ma.” Azriel strained from behind her, and Elain thought she saw a hint of blush dusting his cheek. 

Paloma reached forward and squeezed Elain’s hands with a friendly wink. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person.” Paloma whispered conspiratorially. She pulled back and greeted Mor enthusiastically. 

Elain took a step closer to Azriel, clasping her hands behind her back and tilting her chin up at him. 

“Your mother?” Elain asked silently, mouthing the words. 

Azriel grinned sheepishly at her and placed his hands on her shoulders. 

“Surprise.” Azriel whispered, leaning down 

“You could have prepared me,” Elain whispered, flushing. “I would have made her cookies, or brought flowers for her, or, or, I could have done something for her.”

“Hey,” Azriel said calmly, squeezing her shoulders. “We have plenty of baked goods here, and you walking around the city holding a large bouquet would have drawn more attention than necessary,” Azriel lifted one hand to tilt her hat back. “Elain, just so you know, you don’t have to do anything to get people to like you.”

Elain felt her shoulders slump. 

“I just,” Elain took a deep breath. “I really want her to like me. You’re important to me,” Her voice softened. “And I want your mom to be happy we’re together.” 

“She will,” Azriel said gently. “You’re important to me, and you know how I said I never had a girlfriend? Well, you’re also the first girl I ever introduced my ma to.”

Elain’s heart fluttered. 

“Your mom is nicer than mine.” Elain said, smiling sadly while Paloma and Mor still chatted eagerly behind them. 

“Well, your dad is nicer than mine.”

Elain’s lips downturned at his words even though they were said in jest. She tilted her head and placed a small kiss on the back of his hands, over his scars. 

“I’m happy your dad’s in jail.” Elain said, picking up his other hand and placing it against her lips. 

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, but Paloma’s warm voice cut through the air instead. 

“Now, since I had an early wake up call,” Elain turned, still holding onto Azriel’s hand. Paloma playfully narrowed her eyes at her son. “I was able to prepare a special lunch for all of us, and he told me your favorite, dear,” Paloma said, placing a gentle hand against Elain’s arm as she walked past. “And I set up a special place to eat outside. Az please lock up and then meet me out back in about,” She looked at her wrist without a watch. “Three minutes.” 

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #how you get the girl #how you get the girl chapter 20

[nightcourtseer]

Winds of Fate and Shadow

Summary: A conversation between Azriel and the wraith twins after Elain requests that they begin to train her.

Pairing: Elriel

Azriel often found himself on a path along the Sidra’s banks when he could not sleep. He had always found comfort in the vastness of the sky and stars above, after all that he had endured.

Out of the corner of his eye, a pair of shadows lengthened. Stretching, and then taking form.

Two nearly identical wraiths appeared behind him, keeping in line with his steps as he walked.

He was not surprised to see them, as they frequently joined him on these walks along the river. It was clandestine as anywhere, the path removed far enough from any other signs of life to ensure they were alone.

“Yes?” He prompted, maintaining his even pace with his arms crossed behind his back.

They had no trouble keeping his pace, floating more than walking along the bank of the stream. Every so often, one of his own shadows would fall back and meld with their own darkness, for a moment bringing clarity to the edge of their shape, deepening the contrast between their skin and the midnight sky.

Nuala spoke first, as she often took the lead of the two sisters. As she had in birth, so would she in life.

“Lady Elain has requested our services. To… train her in our ways.”

He did not have to turn around to watch as a quick smile danced across Cerridwen’s face, even as she tried to hide it.

He knew that the sisters had become close with Elain. As he had fallen in love with her in the garden, so had they in the warmth of the townhouse kitchen, a smattering of flour dusted across their noses, a sheen of sweat kissing their foreheads as they had worked alongside the new fae. They could take just as much credit as anyone for coaxing her back to life, and for that, he would forever be indebted to them.

“Why do you ask me as if for my permission? She is not my mate, nor my charge.”

Azriel could not help but grit his teeth as he spoke the words aloud.

“And besides, even if she was, she would not need to defer to me on such matters. The decision is hers alone.”

His shadows whispered to him that the small smile had fallen off of Cerridwen’s face.

Nuala pressed on, as she typically did. She was a knife at the throat, Cerridwen a sword at the back. And as usual, he could find no way to navigate out of a conversation they wished to pursue.

“Well, then what of her mate? Will he pose any problems, if he finds out?”

Azriel’s teeth ground together further. He could feel a headache coming on, and he pressed two fingers to his temple where it was beginning to pound.

Dark eyes flashed, and he was grateful that he led the way so that he could not see the stir of emotion flash across his face, even as his voice steadied.

“She does not belong to him. She belongs to no one.”

“Of course,” Nuala acquiesced, her voice softening. She knew that she had struck a nerve, and even the hardened spy knew when to relent. When to leave her interrogation skills behind. They were all friends after all.

There were a small circle of individuals who Azriel trusted, beyond his own family. Nuala and Cerridwen would be counted within his familial circle, after all they had endured together. Having met under the tyranny of service under former High Lord of Night. The pair had taken Azriel under their wing, had helped him to harden his heart during those years so that he could not be stabbed right through it.

They had protected him, and in turn, he them.

Regretfully, as he considered them sisters, so would they tease him as such.

The trio walked in silence for a few moments, and Azriel breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the topic of the middle Archeron had been dropped.

It was a foolish wish, of course.

“She cares for you,” Cerridwen prompted, her soft voice like silk being weaved into the clear sky, as gentle as a tide soaking the sand.

Azriel said nothing, even as his pulse began to beat louder in his ears, his heart a touch too fast in his chest.

“It does not matter,” he answered flatly, even as he tried to control the flurry of his thoughts. Beat back the small flame of hope igniting in his chest.

A flash of her eyes in front of him, deep and brown and crinkling lovely in the morning sun as she approached him, dancing on bare feet in the swaying grass. Pink skirts the same color as the blush across her cheeks and nose as she laughed with him, drank tea with him, shared her dreams with him.

“But who does she spend her time with?” Nuala chimed in, her voice a bit sharper than her sister’s, a bit more insistent. “Who has been with her through this hell?”

This time he looked to the Sidra to his right, and saw a reflection of the first time he had carried her over the threshold of the townhouse. She had felt weightless in his arms, as if her heart had indeed been ripped from her and left over that godsforsaken wall.

“Even if she was not mated, she does not deserve a life tied to me. To all that I have done.”

“Azriel,” Cerridwen caught up to him, placing a nearly translucent hand on his shoulder. Even in its sheerness, he could feel her warmth. “You are a good male. None of us chose this life for ourselves. And if you love her…”

“No,” Azriel shook his head, but could not bare to break away from Cerridwen’s gentle touch. “There are too many things between us, it is not possible.”

Nuala came to stand next to her sister, although she did not touch him. She did not express her fondness in that way.

“Has love not overcome the impossible before?” She posed to him.

Azriel closed his eyes, and let himself imagine it for a moment. A life built of quiet moments, a love built on friendship. An eternity of her hand in his.

“Do not give up,” Cerridwen urged, her voice barely a whisper next to his ear. “Do not give up, if you truly love her.”

He found himself nodding slowly. A man possessed by a stubborn hope that had always refused to die in him.

Nuala brought him back.

“And we will train her. For her alone, as she wishes,” the elder twin reassured him. “And we will protect her, as if she were our own sister.”

Azriel’s eyes softened at that. At the devotion the two wraiths already showed Elain. And he knew that they would protect her with their lives.

“Thank you,” he said softly, as a strong breeze rustled through the trees around them, sweeping his dark hair from his forehead.

Cerridwen lifted her hand from his shoulder to wave her fingers in the sudden breeze.

“Our people say that strong gusts such as this are the tides of fate shifting,” she said, her dark eyes alight with a spark of mischief.

“May it be so,” Nuala prayed, pressing two fingers to her lips.

Azriel offered up his own silent benediction to the gods above. Not for fate’s sake, but a prayer of protection for the fae female about to take her life by the reins. A prayer his mother had whispered under her breath at each end of their weekly hours together.

“Keep her safe.”

He must have spoken this out loud, as the two twins nodded in unison before him.

“I think she may surprise us all,” Cerridwen said lightly. “She is a kingslayer after all.”

Nuala nodded slowly in acquiescence.

“She may end up being the one to protect you, spymaster,” the younger wraith continued, taking her sister’s hand, as they turned to fade back into the darkness of the shadows beyond.

Azriel had no doubts to the truth of this. He could sense her power, her greatness like a small ember inside of her. Quietly growing.

She had already ended a war once. What else could she accomplish, if her power was allowed to flourish?

Only the fates knew. And perhaps, Elain herself.

He set back to walking, as the moon began to make its descent in the sky. No hope of returning to his bed and finding sleep, as so much loomed on their horizon.

His shadows echoing her name in his ear with each step he took, hoping that each one was someone bringing him closer to her. To an impossible future, but one he could dream of nonetheless.

Tag List:

@ultadverb @reverie-tales @illyrian-dreamer

#elriel #elain archeron #proelain #pro elriel #azriel #cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #nuala

[ladyescapism]

The Fourth Archeron Sister

summary: the baby of the family, Deirdre Archeron, is growing up and finding herself. on place she has already found is in a unknowingly requited crush with a certain shadow singer. will they be able to find each other? or will expectations, honor, and other forces get in the way?

Part 2

a/n: I think that this is going to be a 5 or 6 part series. i have the first 3 written and will post the other parts soon. happy reading!

warnings: none, I think

wc: 2,100

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had been a mere six years of age when her mother died. She barely recalled the day she walked into her mother’s room, clutching Feyre’s hand. All she could really remember was her mother stroking her hair and whispered out her name. At least what started out as her name and then quickly faded into a cough. 

Deirdre had always been a sickly child. Every winter she got a nasty cough that lasted further and further into the spring every year, until it never went away fully. Her sisters would be banned from seeing her when she was sick, for fear of them catching whatever she had. 

Most nights, Feyre sat right outside the door and told Deirdre about what was happening that day with their father’s business or whatever she had done earlier. Elain would sometimes tag along and tell Deirdre about the flowers she had discovered in the garden. 

Sometimes, when they were in the mood for trouble, Deirdre sat in the center of her room and Feyre would sit in the doorway so they could see each other as they spoke. Once, Nesta walked past and Deirdre recognized her only by the scowl she threw in her direction. 

Nesta never sat with her.

By the time the Archerons lost all of their money and moved into the cottage and Feyre eventually ventured into the woods, Deirdre had turned 11 years old. Even though their home and family had changed, some things stayed the same. She was still sickly, Elain still rambled about flowers, Nesta was still mean, and Feyre was still reliable. 

Deirdre tried to ease the burden Feyre had on her shoulders. In the summer months, when the cough wasn’t as bad, she took job as a laundress. The steam helped her lungs feel better, but she was paid little and was always the last to be given work. 

Tamlin came when she was 16, stealing her favorite sister and shattering their already broken family. It did not matter to Deirdre that the lost shipments were found. The medicine was nice, as was having a live-in healer in the winter months, but she would have given it all back to have Feyre home. 

The mark Nesta left on her face when she expressed that sentiment lasted for weeks. 

She jolted back into the present as Nyx shouted in delight at one of his many Solstice gifts. 

Her peace didn’t last long as her brother-in-law nudged her shoulder. Deirdre turned to look at him to where he was standing behind the sofa. 

“Yes” Deirdre asked, not having heard what he had said. 

“I asked you what was wrong,” Cassian said, amused. “You have been staring into the fire for going on five minutes.” 

“Oh, just thinking.” 

“About?” 

Deirdre looked into his handsome face and remembered when Feyre came home as fae and she met him and his brothers. 

Nesta and Elain kept their distance when Feyre came home taller, ears pointed, and with that fae-like glow they all shared now. Deirdre had never run faster into her sister’s arms and staying like that until the sobs ceased. 

Then she met the brothers. 

To say she had been intimidated was putting it lightly. The males were menacing even as they tried to make conversation with the sisters. Nesta scowling, Elain nearly trembling, and Deirdre sat in quite curiosity, afraid to offend the males with her questions.

She would ask eventually, though. 

“Deirdre,” Cassian groaned. “Get out of your head and join the party.” 

“First of all, I am at the party,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And secondly, there is nothing wrong with being in my head. Although I can see how if the notion was applied to you, people would be frightened.”  

Cassian gave a small frown and Azriel let out a barely audible chuckle. 

At that dinner so many years ago now, Dierdre had finally understood what all her ‘friends’ had been talking about when they spoke of the men they found attractive. They way her heart fluttered when she saw him, the butterflies in her stomach, the sweaty palms. No human man had ever made her feel that way. She had seen handsome men, but no one compared to the Shadow Singer. 

No one had, his eyes, his hands, his jaw line that was perpetually covered in just a dusting of stubble or anything else she found attractive in him. His presence, his observant nature, his soft, yet deep voice that felt like a warm blanket coming over her when he spoke to her. 

“What do you mean?” Cassian said, feigning offence. “I am a joy to be around, inside and out. Right, Nesta?” 

Her eldest sister looked up from her conversation with Mor, hand resting on her well-rounded belly. 

“Yes, dear,” Nesta said with a smirk. “You are a joy to be inside.” 

Azriel let out a more substantial laugh as Mor and Rhys cackled. 

Rhys, Mor and Nesta all began cajoling a now grumpy Cassian and Dierdre felt a strange spike of jealousy pierce her chest. She knew at what. Nesta made Azriel laugh more than she did. 

Don’t be dumb, Deirdre scolded to herself. Nesta has a mate already and not to mention, you have no right to him. Just a stupid crush that should have gone away ages ago. 

“What were you thinking about,” Azriel asked. 

“My life before you came,” she said honestly. 

When Azriel raised his eyebrows, she quickly added on. 

“Well, you know. Before Feyre was taken by Tamlin and then when she came home fae and everything with Hybern and life since then. Just everything I have to be grateful for. Including all the extensions to our family. Like you.” 

Deirdre decided that she had had enough wine for the night after that little ramble. Azriel just sat there with the faintest smile on his face as she went on. 

He’s too kind to have to put up with my nonsense, Deirdre thought to herself. Just leave him alone. 

Deirdre was about to get up to go feign going to the bathroom when Azriel spoke. 

“I think about life a lot, too. Looking back, I didn’t recognize happy moments for what they were and focused on the past. I try not to do that now, but I still get stuck.” 

“I think you have to know sadness and struggle to be able to fully recognize the happy times.” 

“You’ve gotten wise in your old age, Dierdre Archeron.” 

They drifted off into a comfortable silence. 

“Yes or no?” Deirdre started the game she played with the brothers when she first became fae. “This is a happy moment.” 

“Yes,” he said with certainty. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” 

“Nah, I was just making sure you knew.” 

 He just smiled at her, and she could have died happy right there.  

His eyes are just so damn pretty, the now tipsy voice in Deirdre’s head thought as he looked into her eyes. All of him is too damn pretty. 

Somehow, she managed not to tell him that.

Deirdre looked at the clock and noticed that it was almost two in the morning and decided she needed to go home. 

Feyre and Rhys tried to convince her to stay the night, but she wanted to return to her own space. 

“I want to take in the night air,” she insisted. 

“You’ll catch your death out there,” Feyre accused. 

“I’m fine, Feyre. The Cauldron fixed that for me, remember.” 

Feyre got quiet. 

“Still better not to risk it. Besides there are a hundred other bad things that can happen to a girl, alone, at night.” 

Before Deirdre could continue arguing with her sister, Azriel offered a suggestion. 

“I’ll fly her home.” 

“No, I really want to walk.” 

“Then we’ll walk.” 

“No-“ 

“You walk with him, winnow, or stay here,” Rhys interrupted. 

“Ugh fine,” she conceded, knowing that once Feyre and Rhys teamed up on her, there would be no arguing with them. “We’ll walk.” 

Dierdre kissed Feyre and Rhys on the cheek, everyone else either in bed by now or still partying. 

“Happy Birthday, sister.” 

“Thank you, dove.” 

They said their goodbyes and goodnights and they walked out the door. 

After about a block, Deirdre turned her head to Azriel and offered a suggestion she knew would be shot down. 

“I can walk home by myself you know,” she said, trying to sound strong. “I don’t need a chaperone.” 

He just gave her a look and knew that Azriel would be walking her to her apartment door and might check that there were no intruders when they got there. 

“Why dove?” he asked, probably trying to keep her from asking to walk home alone again.  

“When I was an infant, apparently whenever I saw Feyre, I would make this cooing noise,” she offered with no hesitation. “Feyre noticed that I would only make it when she was in my line of sight and decided that I sounded like a dove. And then proceed to call me that ever since.”

He made a small noise of understanding. 

“My father used to call me ‘Dew Drop,’” she said with no prompting. “He said my eyes looked like the sky reflected in the morning dew, so he deemed me Dew Drop. I don’t think anyone else has nick name for me. Unless you count Nesta calling me a rat my whole life.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Anyway, she said she called me a rat because I was small and carried disease. Feyre used to tell her to stop all the time, but she still would when Feyre was out hunting. I didn’t want to cause a fight, so I didn’t tell Feyre.”   

Deirdre’s rant faded and after a minute Azriel’s voice cut through the night. 

“My mother called me ‘my light.’ I don’t know why.” 

“That’s lovely.” 

The conversation ended as they entered Deirdre’s building and began to climb the stairs to her third story apartment. 

When they got to her door, Deirdre unlocked it and just as she expected, Azriel followed her in, flipped on the lights, and scanned the room, peeking into her bedroom as well. 

“Making sure I’m not hiding a boyfriend in here?” she joked. 

“The shadows told me that there was no one in here before we got to the second story. I was double checking.” 

“Oh, so just making sure I know how to keep house.” 

“I really don’t care about whether you made your bed this morning.” 

She giggled a little. 

“Can I get you anything to drink, or eat?” she said, trying to move the conversation away from her cluttered home. “Water, perhaps? I made some cookies the other day that should still be good. Well, milk would go better with cookies, and I have that too if you want.” 

Why can’t I ever play it cool around him? she thought. He’s a grown ass male. He doesn’t want milk and cookies. 

“I would love some.” 

“I will get them then.” 

Whew. 

She fixed the plate of cookies and two glasses of milk from the ice box and went to move some of the books currently piling her small table. 

Azriel beat her to it and looked at the titles before he placed them on the already cluttered coffee table. 

“‘Lessons in Love’ doesn’t seem to fit in with ‘The History of Pyrthian: Volume Six.’” 

“Well, a young lady has got to be educated in many subjects if she is to be pleasant company to those around her,” Deirdre said, quoting the mistress Nesta hired to “train the embarrassing nature” out of Deirdre.

“Educated,” Azriel mused.  

“Yes,” she affirmed, breaking a cookie in half and dipping into the glass. “It’s not like there is anyone around to teach me much about either subject.” 

“You could ask me.” 

She damn near dropped the cookie. And then she felt the flush creeping up her neck and onto her face. 

Gods, yes. 

No, Deirdre! What the fuck? 

“The history,” Azriel rushed out. “I meant the history.” 

“I- uh… excuse me,” she managed. 

She walked quickly into her bedroom and trough to the bathroom. She splashed her face with water, waited two minutes, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands. 

When she came back out, Azriel was standing behind his chair looking very uncomfortable.  

Ugh, she thought. I did that. Of course, Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court and winner of the ‘Most Attractive Male in Pyrthian’ award five centuries in a row would offer to have sex with you, dumbass. 

“I’m going to go home now,” he said stiffly. “Thank you for the cookies. They were delicious.”  

“Okay,” she said with just as much tension in her voice. “I’ll walk you out.” 

She followed him to the door. 

“Good night,” she said, trying to make her voice light. 

“Good night.” 

Deirdre walked into her room and changed into a night gown. 

As she collapsed on the bed, she pondered just how much she messed up her and Azriel’s relationship. 

tag list:

@feysandzoyalailover @fanfictioniseverything @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @singhillada @marina468

#acotar #acotar imagine #acotar angst #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fic #eris x oc #azriel #acotar fic #unknowingly requited #idiots in love #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron

[mcrcki]

** CLOSED **

i scream, you scream, we all scream for the corn. it's my favorite time of year : the halloween event !! it's gonna be hell, but we're all here together. if you're scared in the maze, we can hold hands or something, but you're gonna have to like this for plots !! or reply for starters , since this is a combination plotting call and starter call! the cap is three starters per writer, so i can get through everyone, and you HAVE TO SPECIFY or i'll literally ignore you i'm so sorry but i will! below you'll get a vibe check for all my babes of how they're feeling in the corn, if they were going in willingly or dragged, as well as potential plots! ** in the meantime about pre event prep : i will be going through and dropping so many threads unless they are plot relevant. if i drop something that you wanted to keep, let me know, but otherwise we can pick things back up in the corn!

branwen || acotar ( 3 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - willingly, thought it'd be fun really, but immediately freaking out and having a bad time. she tried to fly out instantly, but couldn't and somehow that has only made it worse. doesn't know how to fight, and will be hiding in the corn potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, the person she went into the maze with, someone to help her calm down, someone who can keep her safe, friends :)))

starters : rhysand, amren, emily fields

daniela dimitrescu || resident evil : village ( 1 / 5 )

she/they pronouns - willingly, every time something wild happens in the city, dani is there. they absolutely love this shit and will become a horror of the maze. come have fun with them and enjoy the scary shit. or get fucked up by her idk, your call :)) potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, as well as murdering, who she went into the maze with, other villains, people she can torment, someone to get her to Chill Out

starters : felicia hardy

elain archeron || acotar ( 2 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - dragged in via magic, there was no way anyone was going to talk her into going in there. she has a bad feeling about that place, and honestly i wanna play with elain's seer abilities so i think she's starting to see things again and will not!! be going in there!! until the magic drags her in potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming , someone to find her freaking out, someone she has a vision about, a group of people that she can stick with to stay safe, maybe someone she saves

starters : eloise bridgerton, princess tiana

kaya dura || star wars ( 2 / 5 )

they/she pronouns - willingly, thought it'd be fun to take their mind off things, now they wish they were unaware again nvm. would actually like to leave very quickly, this is bad and they are still just getting used to their memories again. will be full on jedi knight vibes though, putting themselves in harms way to keep others safe etc etc potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming , whoever they went into the maze with, people they can keep safe, someone to help them because i know they're gonna get their ass kicked

starters : kasil monsula, heather chandler

leia organa || star wars ( 5 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - dragged in, WHY TF COULDN'T THIS HAPPEN WHILE SHEEV WAS IN CHARGE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN WHEN SHE'S BACK IN CHARGE there was no way leia was going into that maze, not at all, not until the magic fully dragged her in there and now she's stuck and would very much like to leave. she's not good being ?? captured. but will do her best to keep her family and the citizens she comes across safe. nervous about using the force at all since Everything™ but she's trying potential plots ➛ someone who was there when she got dragged into the maze, people she can save

starters : mags flannagan, patia por'co, han solo, angelica schyler, breha organa

louise vance || harry potter ( 2 / 5 )

she/they pronouns - willingly, LITERALLY RAN IN THERE THOUGHT ItD BE FUN. *narrator voice* "it was not fun". starting to wonder if you actually need magic to survive this city, how is it more dangerous than back home?? will be doing whatever they can to find their siblings and making a run for it even if it's useless. potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever they went into the maze with, someone to find them trying to fight off a monster with a pocket knife, friends to make the best of this shitty situation

starters : emmeline vance, jin ling

marlene mckinnon || harry potter ( 5 / 5 )

she/they pronouns - willingly, went in to "check it out" thinks she can keep ppl safe from inside, say it with me : delulu. truly out here thinking they can just fight their way through all of this and they sure as fuck cannot. please someone come watch her get humbled potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever they went into the maze with, people they can keep safe, someone who can help her when she gets in over her head

starters : stitch, fliss mckinnon, james potter, lily evans, dorcas meadowes

morrigan || acotar ( 2 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - dragged in, saw her other friends were in there and like hell was she letting any of them go in alone. will be trying to stick close to all of them, main focus is finding the inner circle cause if someone gets hurt and she can't help, she'll flip. this place sucks pls why cant she winnow out, please someone give her a shot she needs it potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, someone who was there when she got dragged in, people also wanting to get drunk in the maze, people who need help

starters : laudna, tamlin

omega || star wars ( 4 / 5 )

she/they pronouns - willingly, RAN IN THERE, she loves halloween pls this looked fun and now it's hell and where the fuck is their bow. they really just thought it'd be fun and they could have a little haunted maze fun and now they're pretty sure they're gonna die in here. potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever they went DRAGGED into the maze, who wants to fight gritty with them

starters : jill roberts, freddie fecilier, hunter, mouse honrada

pj halliwell || charmed '98 ( 3 / 5 )

she/they pronouns - willingly, but will tell you they were dragged in, went to have some spooky fun and now they're saving the innocent !!! isnt that just the way!! potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, if you need help she's your gal, someone they dragged into this

starters : tamora mitchell, melinda halliwell, childe

rosemary winters || resident evil : village ( 2 / 5 )

she/they pronouns - dragged in, you couldn't catch rose in that maze for a million bucks, that had BAD VIBES and now they're stuck!!!!!!!!! will be FREAKING out , seriously they were okay , they didn't want to be here and now they have to use their powers again when all they want is to be Normal potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming , someone they can use their powers to help (or harm by accident), whoever dragged them in, someone to join her in being A Coward for a little bit

starters : mia winters, evie winters

rowena ravenclaw || harry potter ( 4 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - dragged in, tbh she thinks she'd be able to solve the maze too easily so she didn't think it'd be any fun to actually go in and make the builders feel bad. but now that she's in here she's so intrigued by the magic she isn't even scared she just wants to study it. like a nerd. potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, whoever dragged her in, people she can talk to about being so interested in this place, or someone she can talk out of being scared

starters : hunter, slyvie slytherin, salazar slytherin, calleigh duquesne

sella palpatine || star wars ( 3 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - willingly, PLEASE ONE NORMAL DATE JUST ONE, she thought it'd be a cute fall date, take some cute instagram pictures with allana, kiss in the corn a little and just have a cute moment BUT NOOOOOOOOOO potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, people she can be a coward with, someone to help her figure out how to shoot a gun lmao, someone who will let her hide behind them

starters : sion val palpatine, allana solo, soren palpatine

sophie hatter || howl's moving castle ( 3 / 5 )

she/they pronouns - dragged in, this sucks, they hate it, they want to go home why did they let themselves get talked into going into this!!!! they just immediately got lost and now are stuck here!!!!! their sense of direction is AWFUL and now they're paying for it. pls help potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, people who are also lost, someone who has a way better sense of direction than her, someone they can help with reassuring mom vibes

starters : james norrington, gu zi, qi rong

tatum riley || scream '96 ( 3 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - dragged in, no way in hell you could have gotten her into that maze without bribery. and will be spending the whole time going "i told you so" to this whole place being scary and spooky as hell potential plots ➛ whoever dragged her into this, people she can yell at, other people who are not trusting of any of this, someone who wants to fight monsters with her

starters : sam carpenter, billy loomis, dewey riley

vesta starkos || star wars ( 3 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - willingly, this seemed fun and now that it's scary??? THATS EVEN BETTER. will be a menace to everyone they bump into. will try to fight every monster, genuinely just having a great time like the menace of a child they are. potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, someone they can bully for being "scared" , people they can fight, anyone who wants to fight them etc

starters : kaiden monsula, qui gon jinn, gabriel

victoria sutherland || twilight ( 3 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - willingly, mainly went in bc it's easy to grab a bite in these kinds of places. hide a body in the corn, who's gonna know. now is just bored, she doesn't really want to get into any big fights and will mainly be avoiding the monsters by just being a monster herself potential plots ➛ open to murder or maim, people who make this seem more fun for her

starters : bree tanner, laurent da revin, anne sutherland

violet sorrengail || fourth wing ( 4 / 5 )

she/her pronouns - willingly, okay she made a bad call going into this place!!! she thought it'd be chill and fun and now it's ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING BUT but it's fine, we're fine, they've trained for this????? it'll be fine. potential plots ➛ open for death and maiming, someone she can help, people she can freak out with before finding an actual solution

starters : ki yuri, nami, xaden riorson, jeon pildo

#hw: starter call #hw: plot call #long post tw #this once again has no fucking need to be this long #but i love having all my information in one place cause i can be Organized #if you actually read all of this ily

[daevastanner]

C H A P T E R O N E

“Humans, not places, make memories.”

― Ama Ata Aidoo

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open. Overhead, a canopy of navy fabric made his current location apparent. The shadowsinger was in the private residence he kept on the outskirts of Velaris. The small home he had bought himself when he had received his first payment as Rhysand’s Spymaster.

With a grunt, Azriel propped himself up on his elbows on his bed. He found that his wings were splayed beneath him and his chest was bare. He blinked himself out of his drowsy stupor and struggled to recall the events that had led him here. He wasn’t in the practice of staying in his private home often, usually choosing to reside in the river house or townhouse or even the House of Wind.

His fatigued limbs protested as he tried to sit up straighter, his vision blurring when he attempted to take in his surroundings. He only managed to glean that it was early morning by the sun rising in the eastern window. The shadowsinger doubted that was the reason for his extreme fatigue though. The exhaustion he felt ran bone deep. Even his shadows seemed content to continue resting.

“Finally,” a voice drawled.

Squinting, Azriel slowly turned his attention to the west side of the room. In a plush, green armchair he didn’t recall buying sat Rhysand. Judging by the stubble gathering on his jaw and weariness in his violet gaze, he’d been there quite a while.

“How long was I out?” Azriel asked, his voice rough.

Rhysand sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Two days. The artifact did a number on you, brother.”

A brief flash of the milky white orb in question flashed in Azriel’s mind. A hazy recollection of his scarred hand extending to snatch it off its deteriorating podium, nestled within the depths of the prison. The center of his forehead ached as he attempted to dive deeper into the memories.

“Did I get it?” Azriel asked. “The artifact?”

Rhys nodded with a heavy head. “Your shadows fetched Cassian after you claimed it. He found you passed out on the floor with it wrapped in a cloth. Elain has the artifact now – she’s able to use it without touching it thankfully.”

The urge to protect the middle-Archeron from the effects of the artifact had a sobering effect on the shadowsinger. Immediately, Azriel’s pain and exhaustion were secondary. Elain must not handle the orb, he didn’t care how much clearer it made her visions of the future. No insight into any potential threats to Prythian were worth her coming under harm.

Azriel grunted, swinging his legs out of the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress and face Rhysand. “I have to find her.”

The High Lord arched a dark brow. “Who?”

Azriel fought off the urge to groan, running his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. “I know you don’t like it, Rhys, but she’ll be worried about me.”

“Elain?” Rhys asked, his tone genuinely puzzled.

Rhys had made it very clear at Solstice that he did not want Azriel anywhere near the middle-Archeron, a demand that Azriel had met with–

Searing pain lanced his skull, so intense he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Yes, Elain. Where is she?” Azriel ground out.

There was a long pause. No doubt, Rhys was declining to answer in an effort to quash any attempts Azriel would make at wooing the third sister. But Elain had a right to know Azriel was safe, regardless of Rhysand’s meddling. He forced himself to lower his hands from his eyes and meet his brother’s gaze with the ferocity he knew only the High Lord of Night could match.

But when he locked stares with his brother, he found no anger or protest. Only sheer confusion. Instantly, Azriel’s expression softened, his brows pulling together in similar bewilderment.

Finally Rhysand answered. “She’s back in the Day Court with Helion.” A pause as Rhysand’s throat worked a swallow. “And with Lucien. Her mate.”

Back in the Day Court? Back? Why did Rhys speak as though that was where Elain belonged? Why did he make it sound as though she didn’t reside in Velaris any longer? The more he puzzled over the phrasing, the more his head ached. Instead, Azriel chose to latch onto that last word. Mate.

He pushed himself to stand with a grunt. “Elain doesn’t give a damn if Lucien is her mate. Neither should you.” The spymaster wobbled on his feet then snapped in his wings, trying to regain his center of gravity – Rhys rose with him.

The High Lord reached out a steadying hand, lines of worry creasing his forehead. Azriel held up a halting palm, skewering his brother with a look. He lamented the slumbering shadows on his shoulders; they could’ve aided him in appearing more imposing to Rhysand in his currently vulnerable state.

“Sooner or later, you’ll all have to accept that the Cauldron isn’t always right, Rhys,” Azriel said, his fists clenched at his sides now. “And not everyone needs a mate to belong to someone.”

Rhys shoved his hands in his pockets, canting his head and studying Azriel closely with those unnerving violet eyes. Through the pounding in his head, Azriel could feel the vague sensation of his brother creeping around the vestiges of his memories. Too tired to ward him off, Az instead leveled the half-Illyrian with another withering glare.

For a moment, Rhysand seemed unphased, then his face drained of color. “Shit,” muttered the High Lord.

Doing his best to maintain his composure, Azriel lifted his chin. “What?”

The High Lord exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Azriel, you’re… I need to call for Madja.”

Azriel snorted at that, folding his arms over his chest. “We can agree on that. I need a head tonic because–”

“Azriel, stop,” Rhys snapped, his gaze hardening on the shadowsinger. “You’re… There’s something in your mind. It’s…” he trailed off again, shaking his head.

Azriel didn’t probe, only maintained his cold, expectant gaze on the High Lord.

Eventually, Rhysand continued, his voice both grave and tired. “You’re missing some memories.”

Heart stuttering briefly, the spymaster’s eyes swept Rhys from head to foot discerningly. He mastered himself before speaking. “What memories?”

“I swear to the Mother, Cassian, that if you don’t step aside right now, I’ll mow you down…” a female voice growled from outside the bedroom.

Both Azriel and Rhysand’s heads snapped to the mahogany door that led into the hallway. The voice Azriel heard was familiar, yet completely unknown to him. Like the lyrics of a childhood lullaby lost to time, where you could only recall the melody.

“Rhys is going to admit you the second he’s finished ensuring Azriel wasn’t affected by the artifact, Gwyn,” Cassian’s voice said soothingly.

“Who’s that?” Azriel asked, pivoting to face the door.

Rhys took a hesitant step towards the voices, murmuring under his breath again, “Dammit.”

“I can feel him, Cassian. He’s awake. If it were Nesta, you wouldn’t let anything stop you,” that same, ardent female voice insisted.

Rhysand started stalking towards the door urgently, Azriel took a few hesitant steps after him, but maintained his distance.

“Berdara, if Azriel hurts you he’ll never forgive himself…”

Who in the Mother’s name was Gwyn? Who was Berdara? More importantly, who was she to Azriel that harming her would leave him inconsolably guilt-ridden? At least, according to Cassian it would.

Any attempt to discern an answer to those questions made Azriel wince in pain as a panging sensation rattled his skull.

“Azriel won’t hurt me, Cassian. You know better,” the female replied, her voice gentler. “I am his mate, after all.”

Azriel’s eyes went wide as saucers. That was his mate out there? He had a mate? Her name was Gwyn? Or Berdara? She knew Cassian?

Black spots dotted his vision as pain rocked through his head again – he clenched his jaw, biting back a groan.

The bedroom door swung open.

In the hall, Azriel could see Cassian lumbering away, head hung.

But in the foreground of the doorway, stood the most enchanting creature Azriel had ever seen.

Read the rest on Ao3 or Wattpad

Teaser for chapter 2 on my IG @ readthesefics Tuesday

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn and azriel #acotar fanfiction #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #ao3 #acosf #elucien #acotar #azriel #acotar fanfic