#he kept arguing about it with Tamlin and fighting for her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

draguta · 10 months

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.a court of fate and fortune | twenty.

pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: | book two | lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. with the threat of war looming over prythian, lucien, Y/N, tamlin, and rhysand's inner circle must scramble to find allies and prepare themselves for what is to come. but Y/N only has one aim; to find her way back to lucien, and protect him at all costs.

chapter warnings: domestic violence

chapter word count: 4121

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False Promises

Two Bogges, spotted on the closest side of the Western sea border. That’s what Tamlin had said. They had been stuck in that study all morning, working out how to tackle them. Because there was no question where those creatures had crawled from, the island that sat across the sea from that very border; Hybern. He gripped the hilt of his sword, actively counting the weapons that he had - a dagger on each thigh, a baldric of knives across his chest, an extra dagger in his boot, and a bow and arrows across his back. Likely enough to protect himself, especially if he was with Tamlin too. But two Bogges? He had never heard of them travelling in pairs before.

“You’re going so soon?” Feyre’s sweet voice sounded from somewhere in front of them as they made their way out of the study and toward the front door, ready for a day of hunting the worst of the worst creatures. Lucien’s stomach was doing somersaults at the thought alone.

“There’s activity on the Western sea border,” Tamlin explained; his voice was monotone and rough. Even he was scared, Lucien realised, a thought that did little to calm his nerves. “I have to go.”

“Can I come with you?” She asked. Tamlin stopped, but Lucien kept going. He couldn’t focus on their fight, not now when he very well may have been walking to his death, something he would do willingly if it would stop those Bogges from getting too close to the manor - too close to Y/N and Feyre.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Tamlin say behind him. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I know how to remain hidden,” Feyre said, her voice so quiet, so distant. “Just…take me with you.”

“I won’t risk our enemies getting their hands on you,” Tamlin said firmly. Lucien cocked his head slightly at that; did he mean Hybern? Lucien could only hope that he thought of Hybern as the enemy, and not as a possible ally. Feyre looked right over Tamlin’s shoulder, right to Lucien, and she began…studying him. Perhaps taking in the weapons that he wore, perhaps noting the lack of horses. “Don’t even think about it. Don’t even try to come after us.”

“I can fight,” she tried.

Lucien blinked slowly, praying the Mother, or the Cauldron, or whatever was up there beyond the clouds listening, that Feyre would let it go, just for today - he knew Tamlin was in no mood to argue, not when it had been constant reports and constant creatures, and the thought of Feyre’s powers looming over his head at all times. He could practically see the stress leaching from his friend like a stench that couldn’t be washed clean in the tub.

But…Feyre. Beautiful, fair, kind, strong Feyre, locked away in that manor, barely allowed to even roam the grounds without sentries flanking her at all times. Never a moment of peace, never a moment of freedom. Was that to be her lot in life? Was his own lot in life to run around after Tamlin for centuries to come, whilst the female he loved, and his best friend, were kept trapped in that house as if they were somehow…the threat? His heart ached, and his head hurt.

He glanced over his shoulder, over the grassy plains outside the manor - the fields that made up only a small slice of Tamlin’s land. Somewhere beyond those grounds there were two Bogges on the loose, and if the reports were to be believed, they were heading right in the direction of the manor. He had no doubt they had been ordered to do exactly that; a directive by whomever their master may be to either scare them, or wipe them out entirely.

“Please,” Feyre practically begged, and Lucien winced.

So similar - too similar - to another female of this court, trapped inside those walls. But she had been locked inside, had been kept prisoner in her own home…

Tamlin shook his head, almost as if the action itself would force away the very thought from Feyre’s own head. Lucien watched as his High Lord turned and strode toward the front door, to where Lucien himself waited, hovering on the top marble step.

“There will always be some threat,” Feyre all-but blurted. “There will always be some conflict or enemy or something that keeps me in here.”

Tamlin came to a halt, right in the very arch of the front door, as if his mind were telling him to walk through them and leave Feyre behind, but his body forced him to stop - Feyre would always be his weakness. Lucien swallowed, opening his mouth to argue that perhaps Feyre could and should join them. She had, after all, defeated Amarantha, had proven time and time again that she was strong and could protect herself. He wanted to argue that she should learn how the lands are defended, especially if she was, one day, to become the Lady of Spring; when that was to happen, if it was to happen at all, Lucien wasn’t sure. But Tamlin spoke first, the words that Lucien had wanted to say drying in his throat.

“You can barely sleep through the night.”

“Neither can you,” Feyre argued.

Neither could Lucien, although sleep had come to him with more ease since Y/N’s return. No longer were the darkened hours filled with images of her torture in the Night Court conjured by a distraught and agitated mind; now the only nightmares he had were those of his time Under the Mountain, ones which woke him in a cold sweat, but he kept hidden from the female sleeping beside him. She had enough of her own horrors to battle without facing his demons too.

Tamlin strode forward again, almost walking straight past Lucien. “You can barely handle being around other people-”

“You promised.” Lucien couldn’t ignore the crack in her voice - he subconsciously took a step toward her. “I need to get out of this house.”

‘The Bogges, Lucien,’ he told himself. ‘You have to focus on the threat heading straight for the manor. Have to focus on keeping Feyre and Y/N safe. You can help Feyre when you get back. You can take her out to the village, explain it to Tamlin later. But the Bogges first.’

“Have Bron take you and Ianthe on a ride- '' Tamlin began.

“I don’t want to go for a ride!” Feyre snapped. “I don’t want to go for a ride, or a picnic, or pick wildflowers. I want to do something. So take me with you.”

That tone - that determination - it was the same Feyre that Lucien recognised, the same one he had seen those first six months after she had travelled across the Wall, the same one who had been so evident Under the Mountain, facing Amarantha each and every day. And it occurred to him then, that he hadn’t seen that Feyre in a very long time. Things had changed since they had come back to the Spring Court, since that court Under the Mountain had been buried under stone, and Amarantha’s rotting corpse along with it. He had seen it, had acknowledged it, and had tried - as best he could - to help Feyre battle those ghosts that she was so clearly being haunted by, the ghost that she was so clearly becoming, but…

But he hadn’t realised, hadn’t seen, how much she had changed. How much she had grown timid, obedient. It had been right in front of him, and he had been all-but oblivious to it. Too focused on Y/N, on her safety and her return, that he hadn’t seen what was so plainly written across Feyre’s face each and every day. He had tried, but as selfish as he had become, focused on the pursuit of love and a mate with a bond that hadn’t even snapped yet, that he hadn’t tried hard enough.

Guilt swarmed through his chest, enough to make him nauseous.

Sunlight glinted against Tamlin’s claws as they protruded from his knuckles, and for a second Lucien saw an almost fearsome beauty in it, and he wondered if that was what the old Feyre had seen in everything - the beauty. He could imagine the painting she would create. ‘A Perilous Slice of Love’, that’s what he thought she might call it.

But this wasn’t that Feyre anymore, the Feyre that painted. She had been lost a long time ago. And he had let it happen.

“Even if I risked it, your untrained abilities render your presence more of a liability than anything,” Tamlin ground out. But Feyre lifted her chin, proud and unwavering.

“I’m coming along whether you want me to or not.”

“No you aren’t,” was all Tamlin growled in response.

“Tam, perhaps she could come along. I’ll keep an eye on her myself,” Lucien began, following down the first few steps in pursuit of his High Lord. But he was interrupted by a quiet thumping behind him. Lucien paused, turning on his heel, glancing over his shoulder, where he found-

His face paled.

Feyre pressed her hands against the gap in the open door, but…her hands pushed against something invisible to the naked eye. He narrowed his own eye, honing that golden metal eye of his on the doorway, on the place were Feyre’s hand was seemingly pressed against nothing. There - a glimmer of silver, like ripples on the surface of clear water on a sunny morning, the sun hitting against each of them - a glamour.

A shield.

No. Surely not. Surely Tamlin hadn’t done this…not again. Not to Feyre, the female that he loved.

But…he had. He had locked her in there, trapped her in that manor, with no chance of escape. And the worst part was that there was nothing he could do. His power was nowhere near as strong as Tamlin’s, especially not when it came to glamours. He would have no possible chance of bringing the shield down.

“Tamlin,” Feyre gasped, her voice muffled as if she were speaking from through the glass of a window. But Tamlin was already gone, disappeared from Lucien’s side, striding down the gravelled drive toward the front gates. And then he was gone, wrapped in a spring-scented breeze that winnowed him from the grounds completely.

“Tamlin,” Feyre pleaded again, hands slamming against that shield now, the ripples echoing around each place her hands met the hardened air. Lucien swallowed, brows pinching. He had to do something.

“Don’t bother trying,” he said, so softly he wasn’t even sure he’d said it at all. His eyes trailed upwards, following the vines of ivy that clung for life to the bricks at the side of the manor, noting every ripple, every glint of iridescent silver magic, visible only to him through that metal eye - Y/N was in there somewhere, locked up again. “He shielded the entire house around you. Others can go in and out, but you can’t. Not until he lifts the shield.”

He swallowed again, just as Feyre’s face fell, as the pain and frustration and - much to Lucien’s own guilt - fear settled into every crease and indent there.

“Just be patient, Feyre,” he said slowly, backing away slightly, but keeping his eyes on her. “Please. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try again.”

And he would.

He would race after Tamlin and give him Hell for this. He would demand that Feyre was set free, he would force the High Lord to see the error of his ways. Because he owed it to Feyre for everything she had done, and he owed it to himself to finally stop letting Tamlin walk all over the other residents of his home - the people that he called his family.

One final look over his shoulder at Feyre, who was slowly but surely backing away from the shield, and he was wrapped in an Autumn swept fog, one that would take him right to Tamlin’s side.

The bed beside you was cold when you rolled over, only half-awake. It didn’t surprise you - Lucien had spent more time sleeping outside of the manor, or hauled up in meetings right through to daybreak, these days than he had in bed beside you. It didn’t bother you, besides the lingering worry for him off fighting those monsters on the border. Yet, it made those moments when he would return and slip his arms around your sleeping form, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you stirred from sleep, that much endearing - moments to remember, you thought. Although, even if he was there every second of every day, you were sure there wasn’t a single moment you would forget.

But without him, you spent your mornings lounging in bed, wrapped in the sheets, dreaming of him. The thoughts of him - of his lips and his scent and his sweet embraces - would chase away the nightmares. Usually it was the mid-morning sun peeking its head through the curtains that finally drew you from sleep and dragged you from the warmth of the bed, pulled you downstairs for a late breakfast, and woke you enough to get you moving in your afternoon search for the spellbook.

But that morning, it wasn’t the sun that woke you, nor the cold mattress beside you. But rather a…shift.

A shift in what, you couldn’t quite be certain, but you felt it, throughout the whole house. It roused you from sleep, pulled you from the bed in a matter of seconds, sitting bolt upright, hand reaching instinctively for the dagger that you knew Lucien kept beneath the mattress. Your eyes scanned the room for any sign of threat, but found nothing but the sullen silence that had become such a norm in the Spring Court as of late. Nothing but Lucien’s bedroom doused in the golden sun rays that reminded you of him.

But that change in the air still remained, still lingered around you - something was different.

It was then that a voice reverberated up the stairs and down the hall toward you; Alis.

“Feyre!” She cried, her voice breaking, wrought with worry. “Feyre! What has he done to you?”

You were sure you had never moved so fast in your life, that dagger heavy in your hand as your bare feet padded across the floor, pulling you down the hallway to the top of the stairs where you paused, stomach dropping so far that you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had fallen right onto the floor at your feet.

Curled in the far corner of the foyer on the tiled floor, entire frame shaking with fear, chin propped on the top of her knees, was Feyre. Her eyes were glazed over, and you knew in an instant, even as you descended the stairs, dagger falling from your limp fingertips to hit the carpet runner that trailed up the grand staircase, that anything you said to her would not be heard, nor comprehended.

Your knees shouted in disagreement as they slammed against the tiles in front of her. Alis was there, somewhere behind you, fretting and rambling about Tamlin - about a shield. But the only words you were able to clearly make out were ‘locked in’. You could almost feel the blood drain from your face.

A bite of your lip, hard enough to draw blood, and you were closing your eyes, the image of Feyre’s shaking, frozen form etched into the back of your eyelids as you searched for the only person you could think that could help.

‘Rhys,’ you whispered in your mind, hoping and praying that he would be able to hear you, that he somehow knew and was already reaching for your own consciousness. ‘Rhys, we need you.’

His panicked voice rose in your head, above the heaving, staggered breaths that Feyre fought to draw into her lungs. ‘I can feel it. I can feel her. What happened?’ He asked. His tone was a snap, and you tried not to flinch. ‘Y/N, tell me what happened.’

‘Tamlin he locked Feyre inside the manor,’ you finally replied, swallowing as you sent the words floating around your head, knowing that he could hear them, knowing that he was on the other end waiting for them. ‘There’s a shield around the house - she can’t leave.’

There was silence for a moment, save for Feyre’s heavy breathing and the thumping of your own heart in your ribcage. It was too close to what had happened to you. Only that emerald and gold dog-collar was missing.

‘Mor is coming. I am coming,’ Rhys finally said, and you couldn’t help the small sigh of relief. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

‘Not if I do first.’

There was no reply, and the only thing you could do was place your hands over Feyre’s and wait. Alis remained quiet behind you, although you could practically hear her own hands shaking.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, rubbing your hand over the back of Feyre’s hand, offering her a silent prayer. It wasn’t until you felt another change in the air, one that brought a shudder down your spine as the world around you seemed to return to normal, and a warm hand planted itself on your shoulder, that you finally looked up. Rich, chocolate brown eyes, anger swirling within the colour, stared back at you as her fingers tugged ever-so-slightly at the sleeve of your nightdress, pulling you away.

“It’s okay,” she whispered gently to you. “I’ve got her now.”

“Where is Rhys?” You asked, rubbing a hand over your face, surprised to find the wet entrails of tears on your cheeks; tears shed for Feyre and for yourself. Mor paused, glancing over her shoulder, golden locks that seemed brighter in the Spring sunshine falling over her chest as she peered calculatingly at Alis, before looking back to you.

“He’s not far,” she explained. She leant down, wrapping one arm under Feyre’s knees and one behind her back before hoisting her carefully into the air, tucking her tightly against her - Feyre shook uncontrollably. You simply nodded, even as Alis took a hesitant step forward. She looked Mor up and down, spared one glance at you, and then turned back to Mor, no doubt taking in her Illyrian leathers, and the various weapons strapped to her belt and thighs.

“Please - Please take care of her,” she pleaded quietly. Mor swallowed, hardening her face firmly.

“Consider yourselves very, very lucky that your High Lord was not here when we arrived,” she said, chin raised. “Your guards will have one Hell of a headache when they wake up, but they’re alive. Be grateful.”

Mor turned once more, offering you a solitary nod - a signal to follow the second the coast was clear, the second Alis had disappeared. And then she was gone, Feyre along with her, through the door into the garden. You hovered, watching their figures shrink as they walked carefully across the grass and up the hill. Alis heaved a small breath, her hand reaching forward to grasp your own, squeezing it once, before letting it go and disappearing through the door to the kitchen below, no doubt to brew a pot of tea to calm her hysteric nerves.

You took a deep breath, and closed your eyes.

You hadn’t attempted winnowing - not since that day in Windhaven - too fearful of being caught in the in-between without the knowledge of how to properly go about it. Yet, for Feyre, you were willing.

‘Take me to Rhys,’ you whispered to that power inside you. You could feel the smoke curling around your body, cold at the first touch, but warming with every second that passed, and when you finally felt the breeze of the Spring morning, you opened your eyes. Rhys was stood before you, Mor to his side, and Feyre tucked in his arms.

“What happened?” Rhys growled - never before had you seen the pure irate rage that filled those violet eyes as it did in that moment, glaring you down.

“I don’t know, I was asleep,” you explained. “I just felt the shield go up, and Alis - the maid - was saying that Tamlin had locked her in the manor, that she couldn’t leave, and Feyre…she was curled up on the floor.”

“You didn’t stop him?” Rhys snapped, raising an eyebrow, lips thin and white with anger. “You slept through it, instead of helping her?”

“Me?” You scoffed in disbelief. “What was I meant to do? I called for you, didn’t I?”

Rhys huffed out an incredulous laugh. “You should have protected her.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Rhys continued before you had the chance. “Just, find the spellbook.”

With that, darkness enveloped him, and he was gone. Mor looked to you, wincing slightly.

“Don’t listen to him,” she said softly, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “He’s just…You know what he’s like when it comes to Feyre. It’s Tamlin he’s angry at, not you.”

You pulled in a deep breath, sucking air through your teeth. “Well, you can tell him I don’t care. I’m already lying and cheating to follow his orders. He can’t blame me for everything.”

With that, you allowed the smoke to curl around you once more, taking you back to the foyer. You paused, staring at that corner where Feyre had sat, looking so much like you had that day locked in your room. And you let the tears fall.

“Are you insane?” Lucien snapped, pulling at Tamlin’s arm, dragging him back to face him. “Explain to me why you would do that?”

Tamlin simply growled, ripping his arm from Lucien’s grasp. The High Lord continued with his prowl through the woods, heading to the spot where the Bogges had been sighted last. Lucien swallowed down his own growl, stepping forward and falling into stride beside Tamlin, not even trying to hide his anger this time.

“Are you so blind that you cannot see what you are doing to her?” Lucien hurled. “Can you not see that she is not the Feyre that you fell in love with anymore.”

“She is fine,” Tamlin growled. “She is healing. She is coming to terms with what happened to her, what happened to all of us.”

“She is fading into nothing!” Lucien snarled, the rise in his voice bringing the High Lord to a halt, whirling on his emissary, but Lucien held his ground. He stood, chin high, shoulders boxed, glaring down his friend. “And it is you who is doing that to her.”

“How dare you-”

“You have broken her!” Lucien snapped, arms flailing to the side in anger. “We have all-but lost her entirely! She doesn’t paint anymore, she doesn’t tease me or joke with me, she barely eats or drinks! By denying her everything that she needs to actually heal, you are breaking her even more. More than Under the Mountain, more than Amarantha. You are the final straw, Tamlin.”

“Lucien-” Tamlin growled, but Lucien refused to let him attempt to justify his actions, when they both knew they were wrong, even in Tamlin seemed to have locked away the slither of common sense that told him that, just as he had locked away Feyre, had locked away Y/N.

“If you will not protect her,” Lucien began, hands clenched at his sides, “or protect Y/N in the way that you promised them, then perhaps I should.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tamlin growled. The shuffling feet of the sentries approaching behind them caught their attention, and Lucien lowered his voice.

“I mean that, until you have faced your own demons, Tamlin, I cannot trust you to protect the ladies,” he said lowly. “I’m going back to the manor to help Feyre. If you had any sense at all, you would do the same.”

Lucien sniffed harshly, turning on his heel ready to winnow away, back to the manor, back to Feyre and Y/N, back to where he could truly be useful.

“What about the Bogges?” Tamlin called after him.

“Deal with the fucking things yourself!” Lucien shouted in return. Tamlin huffed, and turned, continuing through the trees and away from Lucien. But, just as the Autumn fog began to mist around Lucien, he paused, the appearance of a sentry winnowing himself before them bringing him to a halt. He cocked his head as the sentry looked to Lucien, eyes wide with panic.

“It’s Lady- I mean, Feyre- I mean, Lady Feyre,” he stuttered. Lucien motioned for him to continue, and the sentry gulped audibly. “She’s gone. Taken from the manor, sir.”

Lucien’s entire body froze, his heart stopping in his chest.

Only one thought ran through his mind.

Y/N.

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bowdawn · 1 year

Note

Keep Feyre’s name out your mouth if you’re going to talk nonsense.

Lucien never prioritized Feyre only what was best for Spring, Tamlin and Elain. He was a shitty friend and made some shitty decisions. No place to stay? Be a big boy and find somewhere NOT abusive since he has all those friends at other courts people go on about. But don’t sit here and act like Feyre did HIM wrong.

Okay, I'm confused... It's this about a specific post? Maybe an older one? Because I've barely been interacting with the acotar fandom in here. It's been months... Mostly because this fandom is just so tiring.

To address what you've just send me. The first thing I'm going to say it's that Feyre it's my favorite character in the series. Lucien is the second. So just to be clear I don't hate her, quite the opposite, even when she was going all in to destroy Spring Court from the inside I was cheering for her. I love female rage. I live for it.

Talking about Feyre's relationship with Lucien: I think we would like to have things very define and black an white, but people/characters are more complex than that. We can have various dimensions, and that is fine.

Their friendship is intertwine with caring for one another and hurting one another without the intention. Mostly because of Tamlin.

It's not just "Feyre was abused and Lucien didn't try hard enough". Yes, Feyre was abused. And Lucien did try. Was it enough? No, obviously. But it doesn't cancel the fact that Lucien put himself in the middle of Tamlin and Feyre and kept trying to convince Tamlin that Feyre deserves more freedom and to learn about her powers.

He was going against a literal High Lord, that held more power than him. He was also going against his friendship with Tamlin, after he gave Lucien a home when Jesmida was killed and he had to escape Autumn.

We can argue all we want about Lucien did that, and Feyre did that. But I think they tried their best on a situation that it was horrible. Tamlin abused Feyre, but he also abused his power in his court. In a lot of ways he gave Lucien no option.

He literal had to step up and participate on Calanmai because Tamlin refused as Feyre was at Night Court at the time. And we know he didn't want to, specially because he had to fuck Ianthe, someone who he despised. And we see how forward she was with him even after it, Feyre made her break her own hand for it.

Again, this is not a simple situation, and both of them managed to get out of it. The cost of it was Feyre destroying Spring Court. While she was doing so, we saw the internal conflict she had with Lucien.

The thing is, Feyre already had her happy ending. She has a home, she has a family and she found friends that she trusts and care for.

I'm not saying that Lucien and her are not friends anymore. I do think their friendship has a shadow because of everything that happened with Tamlin, and they will work it out at their own way.

Maybe they will go back with being how they were before, maybe not. And that's okay.

That doesn't erase the fact that Lucien was also abused. It doesn't erase the fact that he lost yet another home. He is lost, for now as we're waiting to have his story. So he is yet to found his home, he is yet to find his family, and he is yet to have his happy ending arc.

Lucien is not a bad guy at any moment. He tried, sometimes he succeed, sometimes he failed. But we see him always trying his best and doing what is right.

The last thing I'm going to say anon, if you're coming here for a fight, or to be aggressive or whatever was this message out of nowhere, I kindly ask you to not come back.

We can agree to disagree at the least.

#acotar #fandom garbage #ask me no questions and i shall tell you no lies

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

COLD NIGHTS - Cassian x Azriel x Reader - Prompt:

hi i love your work so much!!! I was thinking a cassian x azriel x reader (i just love them sm, why have one when you can have two ) where the reader is sister of a high lord maybe day or winter court, and reader goes missing (kinda angsty) and her brother (a high lord) panics and goes to the night court for help (bc if her two bat boys can’t find her who will) and az and cassian go full on panic mode and search for the reader, i was also thinking a fluffy cute ending where reader is just cuddling with azriel and cassian while her wounds heal take as much time as you need to write this, don’t pressure yourself. Take care lovely

Kallis would never forget the screams. The terror and panic that rushed through him when he realised that you were gone. He sent half the city to search for you. He called upon Helion to inspect the magic. He was frantic in finding you. But it was like you had just disappeared out of nowhere. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood spilled. The offender was sloppy in their ways, but their magic was strong. Helion could sense it. They had a deathwish from Kallis himself if he ever found them. + The first thing you saw were your cracked and bloody hands. They were split open from the dry cold wind. Sea air drifted into the cave. The cold brutal howling outside mixed with the roar of waves breaking confirmed your nightmares. Cape Tragedy.

The islands off the coast of winter were known for their unforgiving nature to ships. Hence their name, Cape Tragedy. Also known as the Tragic coast, no stories were ever heard of any survivors of those crashes. If they had managed to survive the churning water, then the false salvation of the islands would kill them. It happened often enough that there were lighthouses set atop many of the bigger islands for ships to avoid on stormy days.

You coughed from the dry air, earning a pair of yellow eyes to dart to you. One of the three lesser fae males noticed you were awake and clapped. "She wakes! We've been waiting for you, sweetheart." His green skin was pale in the overcast light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. Snow Bear pelts lay all around. A disgrace in your culture. No citizen of Winter court would do such a thing. You looked to the walls to find weapons, and strange markings along the stone. Sailors from far away lands.

Not even sailors. Pirates. A chill ran through you.

"We're going to get your weight in gold, pretty one." The scaled male curled a piece of your hair behind you ear. Your stomach turned, and you tried to scoot away. "My brother will kill you first. And he'll take a long time doing it." You promised, trying to make your voice sound strong. Terror had you by it's grip though, and it was hard to do anything other than panic

. "Your brother? The pretty one that shears the Elk?" The green one asked. You laughed, and then were hissing in pain when the scaled male yanked on your hair. "What's so funny?"

"You think my brother is an elk herder?" You spat "You must be dumber than you look." The males glanced between each other, then to the one who hadn't said anything yet.

"Who ye think you are then?" The male holding your hair stammered, trying to keep his panic under wraps.

"Kallis' sister." You said with deadly calm. "And the high lord does not negotiate."

"If you're so noble why you got such a mouth on ye?" The third male finally spoke.

They laughed.

"Maybe we will see just how much of a mouth-" He started again. He didnt have a chance to finish his disgusting words. You kicked, bending an ice spear straight up from the rocky ice floor and through the third male's body. Then the beating from the other two came.

They bound your wrists and ankles in rope and tar. Their hands shook when they did it. It gave you a small bit of satisfaction. The potion they gave you to knock you out was just barely strong enough. You fought it as best you could, but it won. You could only hear the faint sounds of arguing then a crash of glass, then the cold winds whipping around you. And when you woke, your body ached. The cold bit into your limbs. Your fingers were pale. Far too pale to be healthy. You knew frostbite when you saw it. Your body refused to move under your own power. Your blood was frozen to the icy ground. They had used a potion and transported you to a peninsula, and you could only faintly hear the ocean below. You could feel the potion wearing off, but you knew you weren't healing. Not yet. You reached down into your own mind, picking up the fading tendrils of power. Of your bond to the two you knew could save you. And you pulled as hard as you could manage. --- "Fuck." The roaring thought shook Cassian awake. Bleary eyed, he glanced about the room as if there was someone actually shouting at him. Then he felt it. The weak tug that had been silent for so long. And he knew it was nothing good. Frenzied, he met Azriel at the dining area. Where they spent the rest of the night planning, deducing a probable reason for you to be calling so weakly. They sent their worries to Rhys, but they were shooed away. "I'm researching. Meet me in the library at dawn." The two males tried to comfort each other. But the worry pulsating through the bond was too much to focus on. So they waited. Kallis appeared that morning. He spat his story and begged for help, practically in tears as he spoke to the three Illyrians. Cassian and Az knew something was wrong the moment you were attacked. Court laws forbade them interfering on Winter Court territory though. As soon as the approval was given, the brothers winnowed to the border of Winter and started flying. + You were coming to terms that you would die in the cold. You had imagined death differently. Battle was the primary way you thought you'd die. Or at the end of a High Lord's magic for being too much of an advisor. Smiling at the memory of putting Tamlin in his place, you gave another tug down the bonds to your mates. And like a snap, they both tugged back. Almost in unison. It was hard to tell. You closed your eyes, listening to the soft waves below. They lulled you into a cold sleep yet again. + Despite the cold, the Illyrians flew as fast as they could. They could sense your light fading, and chased it for mile after mile. Their wings cut through the harsh winter winds, fueled by rage and desperation. Then they spotted the dark figure frozen to the snow below. Cassian landed first, a few feet away. The ice cracked beneath him. "Get us out of here." He growled to Azriel. "We need to make sure she's okay before we move." Cassian growled, but didn't protest. Azriel understood. He felt the anguish and frustration through the shared bond. Az's hands pressed gently to your neck, checking your pulse. He swore. "Baby, we need you to wake up for us. We're here. We got you." Cassian put a hand to your cheek and fought back the tears that threatened. You groaned in response. They both sighed in relief, their breath making clouds in front of them. "I'm stuck..." You managed through your stiff jaw. Cassian stroked a thumb over your cheek. "Stuck? Honey you're-" "Cas..." Azriel nodded to your side, to the ice that crept its way up your damp clothes. Azriel could have taken a very very long time torturing the beasts that did this to his mate. The rage coiled in his gut at the sight of your injuries. The only reason you hadn't bled out was the blood and water mix turning your wounds to ice. Cassian pulled at the ice web that encapsulated you. Under the heat of his rage it broke, and broke and broke. Azriel placed small patches of his shield over your frostbitten fingers. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay still." Azriel smoothed back your hair, and darkness swirled over you. The change from the harsh overcast light of Winter court to the soft sun of Night court was jarring. Madja put her hands on you and you were asleep in an instant. Her warm hands were a blessing from the Mother. + "She's lucky she has that Winter blood in her or she'd be dead." Madja wiped her hands off and handed both the Illyrians a small vial. "That is the scrap from a poisoned sword that broke off in her shoulder. I got all the pieces out, but the poison lingers. It may heal slowly, but it should get better." Anguish burned both of their stomachs. Azriel's throat tightened and he looked away, but gripped the vial tightly. Cassian stared at it, his eyes murderous. Madja left without another word. "She was almost killed. And we couldn't do anything." Cassians' voice was low, with violence dripping from it. "We need her here. In Velaris where we can... watch her." He didn't know what he was saying, but the instinct to protect was overriding every other logical thought he had. Anger burned and burned in his stomach, swallowing him with rage. He could feel Az mirroring the same feeling, but with a cold deadliness that begged to simmer out of him. "You know she wont go for that. She loves her home too much. Her brother." Azriel whispered back. "We're her mates. She should be with us." Cassian was looking for a fight. All the tension and anger of the day had to be worked out. Azriel felt it too. His shadows ran anxiously through the room.

The wind outside howled. It shifted the dark clouds that covered the moon. It seemed to be a cold day in all of Prythian. A cold day in your mates hearts to the pirates that had taken you. They spoke their rage mind to mind, imagining the ways to torture the bastards.

How to find them would be the first priority. Azriel kept circling back to that part. + The healer cleared his throat at the door. "She's asking for you." He nodded to Rhys' brothers. They left Rhys behind in unison, walking in perfect step with each other. Their minds hummed together over that bond they shared with you. "Protect protect protect." They both seemed to demand. Azriel knocked softly, his heart flipping when he heard your voice again. "Get in here." You demanded, giving them a broad smile when they practically shoved each other out of the way.

"Come keep me warm." You weakly folded the blanket back, exposing some of the bruising on your skin.

They complied with enthusiasm. Azriel's hands were cold at first, but they got better when he reached around you to hold Cassian closer. They worked in tandem to keep you covered, making sure that you weren't too crowded or too warm. Azriel summoned his cool shadows when you got too warm and had to kick the blankets off. Cassian's warm breath would keep you warm when they became too much. You traced Azriel's cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw while falling alseep. Cassian's muscled forearms hugging you from behind were like a heavy pillow.

"Rest now, we can have more fun later." Az winked, making your stomach flutter. Cassian groaned and pulled you further to his lap. You tried not to think of the hardness that pressed to you now. "Goodnight." The shadowsinger kissed your forehead and like a light, you were out. Finally resting peacefully wrapped between your two mates and their warm bond you all shared.

#acotar fic #azriel x reader #cassian x reader

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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AU where we pretend acosf didn't happen - part 18

@sv0430 @nehemikkele @mis-lil-red @confusedfandomslut @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @a-court-of-valkyries @nestaspegasus @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side

‘Very, very risky, Nesta Archeron.’

A breath hissed over Nesta’s teeth as her fingers stroked the top of the wooden figurine. She drew her hand away and moved it towards another.

‘If I was really cruel, I’d say you had to move that piece because you touched it.’

‘You’re only a little bit cruel.’

Eris laughed loudly. He laughed more than Nesta had ever expected him to. For days, they had been locked into strategy games whenever he came home. Azriel used to wallop her with no mercy, but Eris had been pausing to offer advice, showing her which traps could be avoided and how to create her own.

‘Am I to believe that meeting Lucien at Tamlin’s home was mere coincidence?’

‘On the eve of my trip to the Night Court? Of course,’ he grinned.

Nesta rolled her eyes then brought one of the puppies onto her lap, letting it chew on her finger. ‘Maybe you would consider informing me if I am to be an unwilling part of your schemes.’

Eris had asked if she wanted to travel for the day and she nearly bit his hand off at the chance. It hadn’t taken her long to gleam from her surroundings that he had taken her to the Spring Court. They had met with Tamlin. A meeting being a gross exaggeration of the word. He’d sat in silence at the table while Eris talked at him incessantly, barking orders about what he needed to do to put his court back together.

When Nesta realised who they’d be meeting, she had prepared herself to be vicious, to argue and tear him down for what he’d done to Feyre. All the fight left her the moment she saw him. The male in front of her was broken. His appearance was unkempt. Her aggression faded as she watched Tamlin slump in a chair, eyes glazed. She did not need to kick a male when he was already down. Broken furniture littered the room; claw marks were scratched into the table. His court had been torn open, just as Eris had told her. It was harder to see it; harder to see the common folk struggle.

Lucien had appeared, a look of surprise on his face when he entered the dining room to see them sat there. They spoke outside with him later - once Eris had finished his neverending monologue. Tamlin had not tried to follow. Did not give any sort of indication that he’d even registered they’d been there.

Lucien’s gaze had weighed heavily on Nesta, searching for any injuries to report back to Velaris. She had apologised to him for judging too harshly. Their initial meeting had been under traumatic circumstances but he had proven himself to be a kind, loyal male – one she would be proud for Elain to be with, should she accept their bond. He had kept his distance, not pushed the bond, had helped Feyre when she'd needed it. Lucien was a good male. Lucien had nodded, a smile broke onto his face, as if Nesta's approval genuinely mattered to him.

‘The male who broke down the door to our home and stole Feyre, he’s truly gone,’ Nesta sighed, taking one of Eris’ pieces off the board. ‘It was quite pathetic really, seeing him like that.’

‘He never wanted to be high lord anyway. Maybe Feyre did him a favour.’

‘I worry more for his subjects,’ Nesta replied.

There was a satisfied gleam in Eris’ eye that she wasn’t sure she liked. He took her by the hand to his office where documents had been laid out on the oak desk.

‘This is where you come in.’ Eris sat behind the desk and folded his hands together. ‘I cannot be seen too often in the Spring Court. You, however, are not affiliated with any court. Tamlin needs to conduct a census to gain an understanding of who remains in his court. Tamlin also needs to take stock of his taxes and tithes to better understand the financial situation.’

‘Does he?’ Nesta scoffed. ‘Does Tamlin now have red hair and live in the Autumn Court? I don’t want to be involved with him. He stole my sister.’

‘Odd that he wasn’t the only high lord to do that.’

‘Eris.’

‘Nesta.’

Nesta tried to turn on her heel to leave, but Eris had darted from behind the desk and his grip locked around her wrist, holding her to the spot. ‘Nesta, you’ve shown an aptitude for strategy and mathematics. You care – even when you have no reason to, you still care. You showed that in the high lords’ meeting when you demanded the children be spared. You’re wasted sat in a library reading. You can do more – be more. You can be my eyes and ears in the Spring Court. Please. Should I drop to my knees and beg?’

‘It might help.’

Eris did. She could not believe her eyes when the male sunk to his knees and clasped his hands as if in prayer. ‘Please.’

‘No,’ she smirked.

There was too much of Feyre’s history tied up with the high lord of the Spring Court. Too much for Nesta to delve into. She had no training, no experience with such things. Eris cursed her, but did not push it. The documents on his desk were ready for a census to be conducted. A contract was also written, with her name at the top, including a generous salary for her services paid from the Spring Court funds. The battle might have been over for the day, but Eris would try again. Nesta would become a piece in his own games, it was only a matter of time.

They ate dinner together with the large glass doors propped open to allow a gentle wind to blow through the dining room as the sun slowly began its drop to the horizon. Vytor sat to attention by Eris for any crumb that might drop and Adja was under the table, chin resting on Nesta’s knee for any pastry flakes that escaped her pie lid. The pups ran amok the room, chewing at furniture and toes, unaware of the dinner.

‘I forgot to ask… how was your trip to the Hewn City?’

‘Interesting.’ Nesta cocked an eyebrow, willing him to continue. ‘They’re convinced I’m torturing you.’

'If you continue to play pianforte it will be torture. Was Elain there?’

‘Just the three bats, Lucien, and your other sister.’

Eris had taken to calling them the bats after Nesta had said it enough times. From his mouth, the insult sounded worse.

‘The shadow singer,’ Eris said, not looking up from his plate. ‘What happened to his hands?’

‘It’s not my place to say.’

Azriel was ashamed of the scars although they had not been his fault at all. He had not deserved his childhood. He hid them as often as he could. Nesta would not arm Eris with that knowledge of what had been done to him. She knew well enough that Eris’ favourite activity was irritation. Azriel did not deserve any nastiness from Eris.

‘I’d like to go to your next meeting,’ she said, raising her gaze to his. ‘Then they can see I'm not being held under duress. I can also make sure you're behaving as I have a feeling you’re twisting the truth to your own gain.’

‘But it’s so much fun. All right, I’ll bargain with you. You come with me and in return, you will examine the taxation records of this court under my tutelage to better prepare you for investigation into the Spring Court.’

‘You are a demon.’

Eris inclined his head as though she’d complimented him. ‘I’ve heard it said you are a witch. It’s why we get on so well.’ Eris drained his glass of wine. ‘What was it like when you went into the Cauldron?’

A preternatural stillness came over Nesta. The warmth of the room drained to a deathlike cold, drawing goose bumps upon her skin. ‘Why do you care about that?’

‘Curious,’ he said gently.

Her breaths came shallow. Nesta had fought and fought with every ounce of strength she had to get to Elain. To save her. She’d failed. She had not been able to save Elain. Then the guards had come for her. She had bucked and thrashed, desperate not to become what she’d always hated. Cassian had been bleeding on the ground, wings shredded, the only one trying to get to her. Lucien had held Elain. Declared he was her mate.

‘I’m going to bed.’

Long after the sun descended, Nesta remained curled up on her bed, staring at the chest of drawers without blinking. If she closed her eyes she saw the inky black depths of the Cauldron. Remembered how bitingly cold it had been like the gaps between the stars, a world without warmth and light. It tugged her down as if it would never let her go.

It burnt. Death burnt. The change to immortality burnt. Every bone in her body had been broken and melted into steel. She fought back against the Cauldron. Fought to steal and to take and to rip away the power it had taken from her and Elain. It was an eternity trapped there. An eternity clawing her way back to life.

A soft knock dredged her back from her memories. The door opened and Vytor’s paws padded across the wooden floor followed by his master. Eris lifted a blanket from the bottom of the bed and tucked it in around her then settled himself on the bed bedside her. A hand snaked into hers, warm but firm. A tether that kept her from her nightmares.

Eris had departed during the night. In his space, Vytor snored loudly. She would have thanked him for staying with her, for knowing she needed the comfort even if she did not ask for it, but Eris was not at home. He had already left for another day locked into business.

Nesta continued with her riding and dance lessons, the steady pulses of her day that kept her together. Eris supported in training her magic when he had free time but he had given her exercises to try when he was not around. It became ritual to practise those too. She could not shake the feeling that there was something missing. Something she craved.

Reluctantly, she studied the documents Eris had happened to leave on her favoured couch in the library. That male’s brain never rested; it constantly plotted and schemed.

The puppies were becoming more boisterous, charging about the place in between flopping to sleep in a pile. They were a welcome distraction between the dull ledgers. For every document she read, she rewarded herself with laying on the floor and letting the dogs scramble over her to play.

The documents were easy enough to understand; she had studied enough of her father’s documentation when he had been a merchant. Certainly, if Feyre could go from illiterate to high lady in a couple of years, being involved in the administrative duties of one court should be fairly simple.

The servants greeted her politely as she exited the house. She walked the grounds slowly with Vytor plodding along beside her, his tail wagging when he stopped to sniff at a bramble bush. They shared a few blackberries; Vytor snuffled them from her palm, his wet nose tickling the skin. The sweet-sharp berries had always been Nesta’s favourite, especially baked into a crumble. They continued on to the orchard where ripe apples dripped from branches desperate to be harvested. Nesta ate one as they wandered along the perimeter fence and she wondered if this is what life had been like for her mother. Vast lands, servants, and a husband who busied himself with work so often he was a stranger. Was that why she had crafted Nesta into her own creation – merely out of boredom? Their mother would entertain guests – and she was spectacular at it – though as Nesta grew older, she realised they were not friendly women. They gossiped and revelled in others’ misfortune. It was an empty life. One she did not want. Nesta wanted company. Someone to laugh with. Someone to love. To be loved by.

When Eris returned, she allowed him to eat his dinner in peace before she took up a chair at the head of the table.

‘The bargain you had for me. I have examined your documents and understand how they’ve been formed. I will support in the Spring Court as best I can. I will need further training. I do not want to go to your meeting. I do not want to see Rhysand. I would like to see Cassian though. Alone. Just us two. If you can arrange it, I will support Tamlin.’

She had mulled it over and over. Cassian had sworn to defend innocent mortals. He had tried to get to her when she was dragged into the Cauldron, even with his wings torn to ribbons. Nesta had watched him fight against Hybern in the heart of the battle. Seen him on the brink of death. He had gone with Nesta to lure the King of Hybern. The king had hurt him. Had tried to break him. For him, for his spirit, she had continued to fight. She wanted to try.

The census ought to have been tedious, but Nesta found she quite enjoyed the rigor of administration. The few sentries who were still loyal to the high lord helped in the organisational process, along with servants. Keeping her mind busy helped to pass the time. And Nesta found she was good at it. In the late afternoons, she would examine Tamlin's accounts. The male would sit, unblinking, at the window while she busied herself within the manor, discussing matters with servants.

It was during the third day of the census in the Spring Court that Eris managed to lure the bat to their meeting. From the look of thunder on his face, being in Eris’ presence was akin to rubbing stinging nettles on his skin. Eris made a point of gesturing to the sentries for Nesta to call upon if needed. If Cassian wanted, he’d tear through them all easily and fly her back to Velaris. She watched Eris winnow to allow some privacy, hoping Cassian would not try anything stupid like that.

‘You wanted to see me,’ Cassian said, voice aloof.

‘I did.’

They stared at each other in silence. Both waiting for the other to strike first. Nesta had forgotten how colossal he was. How he could devour the space he was in. The massive sprawl of his wings in the sunlight as they stretched to catch the heat. He had planted his feet readying himself for a confrontation.

‘You look well.’

Nesta glanced down at herself. She’d chosen a pastel yellow dress – not one that was her usual style – but one that suited the lightness of the Spring Court to better appeal to the folk within. Her arms were mostly bare, and the chiffon skirt was airy and swirled round her legs when she walked to stave off the heat. The bat was in his usual black leathers as though he’d come for a fight. Red siphons were pulsing slightly to match the rapid beating of his heart.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re working for Tamlin. After what he did to your sisters. To you.’

‘I am working to help fae who have been displaced from their homes during a war which they had no say in. Rebuilding this court is imperative. Surely you must understand that.’

That answer did not please him. He rolled his brown eyes dismissively. ‘What did you want? Why am I here?’

The brusqueness caught Nesta off-guard. She did not expect them to be friends, but she had expected a little more civility. Still, she did not know what lies or truths Eris had span to his own advantage. Did not know what he had implied about their relationship. Nesta knew well enough what Tamlin’s actions had done to her and Elain, of how he behaved with Feyre. In her opinion, Rhysand had been no better to Feyre when they met. But she bit her tongue and let it slide.

‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Why not send a letter? Or are they only for Azriel? Do you not think that a bastard born Illyrian can read?’

Nesta breathed heavily through her nose. ‘You’d have told your high lord every little detail. Azriel knows when to keep his mouth shut.’

Cassian flinched at that. It had wounded him too easily.

‘How quickly did you tell Rhysand about my magic? Had you even landed back in Velaris? Did you expect a pat on the head like a good little dog when you told your master?’

‘You had no control over it, Nesta. It could have been dangerous.’

She threw back her head in a shrill bout of laughter that sent a flock of birds darting from a nearby tree and cherry blossom scattering in their wake. ‘Please don’t pretend there was any concern in it.’

‘Of course there was,’ he said, voice rising in tandem with her own. ‘You were on a path to destruction before Azriel intervened. If your magic is left unchecked, it will ruin you.’

‘I’m training it.’

‘With that fucking snake. Come home.’

‘Velaris is not my home,’ she snarled.

Warily, a sentry watched as Nesta stormed a few steps towards Cassian, not caring if he was head and shoulders taller than her.

‘You were all too happy to call Velaris home when you were drinking and fucking yourself into oblivion.’

‘Is that not what you did for five hundred years?’

‘I had to suffer it every night. Did you consider me in your behaviour? I felt every male you took home.’

‘Did you enjoy it? Because I did.’

She knew she shouldn’t have said it, the moment it came from her lips. Cassian stood dumbfounded, blinking at her. The colour flushed up her neck in shame.

Calmly, Cassian spoke again. ‘I hated every moment. I am your mate, Nesta.’

The fight wasn’t over. She had brought him there to try and forge a sort of friendship and he had started off hostile. She was not burying this argument. Her anger had to come out now or she’d carry it forever.

‘You have no right to call me that word. When have you ever stood up for me? When all your little friends said horrible things about me, you never spoke up for me once. You can make these grand declarations of love on the battlefield. But when it mattered – in front of your family – you were ashamed of me.’

Eris winnowed to them, standing a few paces behind her, watching their argument boil over with morbid curiosity.

‘Where were you, Cassian? After the war, back in Velaris, where were you?’ Nesta pushed him in the chest. ‘You all stood there laughing, celebrating, drinking. I went to my room and cried. I cried and cried and cried. I’d lost my father. I watched the lights leave his eyes. I heard my sisters laughing and celebrating downstairs. Nobody came to me. Nobody tried to help me.' Nesta hissed through her teeth, knowing that day against Hybern had been the exact moment her life started unravelling too quickly for her to keep up with. 'I killed somebody, Cassian. I can tell myself that the king was evil. That he deserved to die for what he did to me and Elain. But I still took a life. That has forever changed me. You all carried on drinking and celebrating. I’m twenty-five years old. I’m not a soldier. I had never seen death before. I wanted someone – anyone - to notice that I needed help. I wanted to die. Nobody cared that I was hurting. Don’t you dare claim you are my mate as if it means something. You weren't there when it mattered most.’

Nesta took a shuddering breath, forcing her emotion back into its cage where it belonged. Angrily, she brushed away the tears that had escaped. She stepped away from the bat, his face contorted with anguish.

‘I sat with Elain every day when we were Made, terrified that I’d lost her. Everybody took care of her, worried about her. Nobody gave a shit about me.’

Eris waited for her with his hand outstretched. She did not fail to notice the shine of victory in his amber eyes. Nesta felt guilty for it. Felt guilty for returning home with Eris and twisting the knife in further to the Illyrian despite everything.

‘Why did you summon me?’ He called. ‘Just to rub it in my face that you’ve moved on?’

Nesta’s fingers brushed against Eris’. She turned her head back to Cassian.

‘I wanted to learn Illyrian with you. I wanted to try and be your friend.’

#au acosf #acosf #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #cassian #nessian #nesta archeron #eris vanserra #tamlin

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

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Nyx and Isa part 4

I am feeling very uninspired these days yall. Good news though, I got a job 🥳🥳 woohoo.

"You two can go wander through the gardens now, if you'd like. Violet why don't you go with them? Someone needs to keep them out of trouble."

It was as much a dismissal if Nyx ever heard one. He rolled his eyes, but stood to leave anyways.

"I would actually like to listen in. If I am to be high lady some day, best I hear it all."

Nyx's parents shared a look. Whatever they wanted to discuss with Tamlin and the rest of the family was not information they wanted his daughter to know. Must be something about her.

"Very well. Nyx could you check on your sister, Velaris? I haven't heard from her all week."

Nyx was annoyed that he was being dismissed once again to check on his oldest sister, of all people, even though Isa was allowed to stay. She was much less trustworthy than him. He turned to leave with his younger sister in tow, but a snicker from Isa made him send a quick glare in her direction.

"Yes, run along now. Like the good little prince you are."

The sarcasm might as well have bit his skin. The entire room stopped their small talk to re-assess the situation before them. The last anyone had heard, Nyx and Isa had resolved any conflict from the recent fight they had. Although neither of them had spoken since Isa had revealed what she gave to protect Nyx.

"Stop this, Isa. Petty arguments do not become you."

"Oh look at prince Nyx. Once again taking the moral high ground. Shocker considering who your parents are."

"Did we...miss something?" Lucien interjected, clearly to lighten the mood which had zero effect on the arguing pair. They continued their banter as if Lucien never even spoke.

"You want to talk to me about my parents? What about yours? Your father abused my mother, only to impregnate, who I can only assume by your own standards, is a vile, evil witch."

She sucked in a harsh breathe. She told that to him in confidence and now he was throwing it back in her face. His anger fueled harder than his guilt. Nyx had walked back to the table at this point where he stood, glaring at his friend.

"Once again you stand on some moral high ground. The world is not black and white, Nyx. Your mother would like to convince you otherwise though, no? Must be her savior complex."

Her accent was much heavier with how vehemently she was talking. Feyre decided it was best to intervene.

"Okay, why don't you two separate and cool off. Obviously, emotions are running high."

Once again, the pair ignored anyone else speaking to them.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Isa. I am not the one that sold off my unborn first child, so of course, you do not have many moral qualms." Nyx threw back at her. She rolled her nose up in disgust.

"Would you have rather I let you die?"

"I am glad I am not dead, but what you were willing to give up for me is not something I would be willing to do for you." He crossed his arms. She scoffed.

"Maybe you should have mentioned that before you had sex with me!" She threw a roll from her plate at him. He let it bounce off his head with a roll of his eyes.

"Oof" Violet muttered while glancing anywhere but at the pair sparring off at the dinner table.

"Do not act as if I tricked you into that! I have been crystal clear about us. I am waiting for my mate, which you are not."

"Nyx," his mother tried to interject once again, but Isa stopped her.

"How do you know that? How do you know I am not your mate? The bond is hard to sense before it has snapped into place." Everyone recognized the desperation in her voice. She was pleading with him to love her in the way that she loved him. Unfortunately, it was also clear to everyone that Nyx was rather indifferent towards Isa as a romantic partner.

"Come on Isa! Be realistic. Our parents did not work out for a reason." He tried to reason. He thought they had just been having a bit of fun. Must have meant much more to Isa than she had been admitting to him.

"Perhaps you do share too much with your mother. Your self-righteousness is certainly straight from her handbook." She lashed out. Nyx recognized her feelings were hurt and that was the reason she was saying the nasty things she was. That did not mean it kept him from getting just as angry.

"Well, I am not the only one who takes after my parents. You are exactly like your father." He spit at her.

Nyx was tired of listening to her discuss his parents in such a way. She wanted to play rough? Well then he would play along.

"What is that meant to mean?"

"You are an entitled bitch who does not seem to understand when someone does not love you back. That's what I mean."

She flinched at his harsh words and he automatically wished he could take them back. She retook her seat, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. They both remembered what she accidentally admitted to him and the words he had not said back. He was breathing heavy from his own vehement yelling, but now as he looked around, he felt regret. It felt wrong to air out their grievances among family and friends, especially when he threw so much back in her face.

"Yikes..." Violet unhelpfully broke the awkward silence that had engulfed the room. Nyx noticed at the same time as everyone else that the table was shaking. It started to shake so much that he thought an earthquake was hitting Velaris. It was not until Tamlin spoke up that everyone realized who, instead of what, was making the table shake.

"Calm down, Isa."

She took a slow shakey breath. One lone tear fell down her cheek which she roughly wiped away. Nyx wanted to wrap her in a hug and apologize, but he stuck in his spot as her tattoos began to glow. They often glowed when she was using her witch magic, but never like this. This was bright, almost blinding when her normal glow was a light luminance.

"I am trying." She spoke softly. "I just want it to stop." Her hands went to her head and started clawing at her temples.

Nyx was not sure what she wanted to stop, but one glance around the room told him that this meant trouble. He wanted to help his friend, but no one moved a muscle and his father sent him a look that kept Nyx from speaking. Tamlin's reaction was even worse. He looked scared. Whether that was for his own life or because his daughter was in danger, Nyx would never know.

"Isabelle, stop."

"I can't." The word broke off at the end as she finally opened her eyes. They were glistening with tears and her expression would haunt Nyx until his last days. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Tamlin propelled forward, over the table. He wrapped Violet in an embrace as they fell to the floor.

And then a gust of power broke every piece of glass in the room. Every window, wine glass, and vase shattered. The power from Azriel's siphons reached out at the last minute and protected Nyx and Lucien from the blast of power. Nyx was still thrown into the wall from the sheer force of it. He managed to look over at his parents to see his dad protecting his mom. Tamlin must have known what was going to happen before it did because he reached Violet a second before it happened.

"Knock her out!" Tamlin yelled. "Before her eyes change."

Nyx looked up to see that Isa was still crying, but a swirl of power encircled her. She had sunk to her knees on the floor at this point and she still gripped her head as if it hurt. The power was unlike anything he had ever seen, so he assumed it must be her witch power. He knew he should get up and talk to her, but he did not want to make it worse. He watched as Lucien attempted to physically get to her, but the gust knocked him away. Both his parents tried using their daemati powers. Nyx was afraid of what would happen if that did not work. Tamlin shoved Violet behind a couch before approaching his daughter.

"Isa, you can control it. You have done it before. Focus."

She began shaking her head wildly.

"Get out of my head!" She screeched.

"I can't get in Tamlin. Whatever is happening is too powerful." Nyx wondered who was inside Isa's head if not his parents.

"Use your Night power to knock her out." Tamlin gritted his teeth as he slowly inched his way toward her. It was a physical feat unlike any other because the wind was powerful enough to keep Nyx on the ground.

"I can't. She's disarmed our fae magic."

Nyx tried to conjure his own magic, only to realize his dad was right. He did not think it was possible without the use of faebane. Isa had mentioned being able to temporarily disable fae magic, but she claimed the cost was too high for witches to use it often. He was worried she would end up killing herself before the night was over.

"Isa!" He started. As soon as he spoke, the power surrounding her intensified. "I am sorry. I did not mean it." He took a few tentative steps towards her even after his dad called out a warning. It was difficult due to the wind, but he managed to get close enough that his shouts were heard by her.

"I was lashing out because you hurt my feelings." The power started to ebb as she raised her head from her hands. "You are my friend and I did not mean to hurt you."

She looked at him for a second, her guard dropped, and when she blinked, her eyes opened again, completely black as the finest spun silk in all of the night court.

Fuck is all he could think.

Tamlin used the split second she was distracted by Nyx to make his move. She was in his grasp and being winnowed away before anything else could be said.

"Shit." His mother muttered from her spot on the ground.

"What the hell was that?" Azriel looked to Lucien for answers as he stood from the ground. It appeared everyone had been knocked to the ground from the force of her magic. Lucien wiped away blood from his forehead that kept pouring into his one good eye.

"How many witch, high lord children have you heard of?"

"None." Azriel grimaced. If he had not heard of it before, then it was likely few and far between that held that same heritage.

"Emotion is a highly sought after price by the spirits. Not many witches are willing to trade their emotions for the aid of the spirits. They feed on it which is why the children are so dangerous. They are one tantrum from killing their entire coven. Why do you think their numbers dwindle?"

"She's had how many years to get this under control?" Rhysand quipped back sarcastically only to get a withering look from Lucien.

"No amount of time prepares you for your first heart break. Especially when the cause of that embarrasses you in front of another court by declaring he does not love you back." Lucien gave a pointed look to Nyx with narrowed eyes.

"Not my finest moment." Nyx cringed as he thought back to all he said. Nyx walked back to Violet to help her up from behind the couch.

"The spirits feed on her emotions. She let her guard down, but they cannot take without giving. They gave her too much power to control with her emotions as tumultuous as they were. The more negative the emotion? The more all-consuming and dangerous that power becomes." Lucien explained. Although it hardly made any sense to Nyx.

"How can they feed if she does not call on them? Why do they not feed on our emotions?" Violet asked as she wiped dirt from her dress.

"The tattoos, a price she has paid for a past use of witch magic, acts as a tracking device. Much like you build mind barriers to keep other Daemati out, Isa needs to keep her barriers in place to prevent the spirits from taking freely. The tattoos call to spirits when they glow and the loss of her mind barrier allowed them in without her permission. As for the reason they do not feed on our emotions? Unsure. Isa jokes that regular fae emotions must taste bad." Lucien finally grabbed a napkin to press to the wound above his eye. He muttered an apology to Feyre for ruining it.

"Why did she not kick them out once she realized?" Feyre asked instead of responding to his apology.

"She probably did not realize she was giving her emotions freely to the spirits. They rewarded her with power. Mix in some fae magic, shape shifting abilities, and boom you have an uncontrollable dangerous cocktail in the form of a small female."

"The eyes?" Azriel quietly mentioned with raised brows. His shadows were moving erratically all around him.

"That is not up for discussion along with her mother." Lucien sent Nyx a glare.

"I know it was a low blow." He admitted. He would apology as soon as he was allowed.

"Isa loves her mother very much. You can love a person and despise their actions. Right Feyre?" It was an accusing statement. Everyone could see what Lucien was insinuating. His mother at some point or another loved Tamlin even if she pretended she never had. Feyre only rolled her eyes, but Rhysand sent a glare of his own back to Lucien.

"I should apologize. I do love her." Nyx felt the need to admit to everyone. "Just not in the way that she wants." He threw himself down on the couch. Violet followed his lead and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Not now. The reason witches do not readily offer their emotions is because it leaves them numb. It is a very unpleasant feeling and will be like talking to a wall." Lucien grimaced. Nyx assumed Lucien was thinking of the last time it happened.

"Has this happened before?" Azriel inquired.

"When her mother died. That's it." Lucien shrugged and dropped the napkin.

"I didn't know. I never meant to hurt her." Nyx felt the need to explain himself, but found there were no words to do so.

"If I know Isa, all she wanted to hear was that you care for her in some capacity."

"She knows that." Nyx insisted. He rested his head on top of his sisters. He was suddenly overcome with exhaustion unlike any other.

"Does she? Cause you had me fooled otherwise tonight." Lucien quickly winnowed away after that. A look around the room showed disapproving looks from everyone.

*****

"Thank you for coming." Tamlin shifted awkwardly in his chair. The Night Court inner circle looked on from their respective chairs in what Nyx assumed must be the formal sitting room. His parents, himself, and his sister squished together on one couch. Azriel took an arm chair to the left of Tamlin and the last chair remained unclaimed. Nyx stared at the chair as if he could make her appear simply from his stare.

"How is she?" Rhysand cleared his throat to ask. Tamlin gave a tight smile.

"Fine." He paused, debating whether he should say the next thing. "We lifted the ward on this room. If things should get out of hand today, you may winnow away."

Feyre narrowed her eyes at him.

"I thought you said she had it under control."

Tamlin sighed heavily and slouched in his chair. He rubbed at his temples as if this entire meeting exhausted him.

"You will see that you are in no danger. It is just a precaution."

Azriel went to say something, but stopped and looked towards the door. It was utterly silent. A few minutes later, Isa walked through the door with her head down. She looked...bad. In the kindest way possible because Nyx knew she had been through a lot mentally. It had clearly taken a toll on her physically. She shuffled to the last available seat without making eye contact. When she finally looked up, Nyx's heart lurched. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes. Her cheeks had sunken in from weight loss, leaving her looking like she consisted only of skin and bone. It was jarring considering how solidly built she had been previously. She had always been muscular; now though, he saw no hint of it. Her dress must have been fitted to her recently since it fit her well. It was a light green color similar to her eyes and flowed around her like a wedding dress. She might look beautiful if she did not look so sick. Nyx made eye contact with his sister's wide, shocked eyes. A quiet gasp left his mother's lips. Isa tried a small smile, but Nyx noticed her fingers nervously traced the new tattoos on her other hand.

"I apologize for my little display last week." She started. "I thought I had a better grip on my powers. Obviously not. I have spoken with my coven on the matter and I will be returning home for additional training."

Nyx contemplated whether he should speak or not. Last time they only exchanged spiteful words. He did not want those words to be the last she heard from him. He cleared his throat.

"Does your coven know about the first born debacle?" He felt it was a neutral enough of a statement. Isa replied simply.

"No."

"It is best if that is never discussed aloud." Tamlin interjected.

"How long will you be gone?" Violet asked. They had become friends as well and his sister looked sad at the prospect of her leaving.

"Until I need to claim my position as High Lady." Isa stared at her hands as she spoke. Violet gasped at the information.

"But that could be hundreds of years!"

Nyx frowned. He thought it might take Isa a few months to lose interest in himself and then they could return to just being friends. This seemed extreme, but perhaps they could still visit each other every once in a while. Isa only shrugged. Nyx felt dread at Isa's lack of emotional display. She had been rather devoid of anything else. The effects of the spirits must be taking more of a toll than anyone else assumed.

"That will leave you unprepared for your role as high lady. You do not have many allies or friends," Azriel started what appeared to be an oddly placed reprimand. "You should use all the time you have to form relationships with the other courts and possible emissaries."

"Lucien said he would help me when I first take over."

"That is not enough." Rhysand agreed as him and Tamlin shared a look.

"You will help me, no?" She asked.

"We may not have the time to devote to helping you run your court." Feyre said. Isa's eyes slid past Nyx's and landed on Violet's.

"I could help." His sister offered with a smile that looked so similar to their mother's.

"It would be very much appreciated." Isa tried to give a smile of her own but it only succeeded in showing how miserable this past week has been for her.

"You may want to consider marriage." Azriel felt the need to mention. "You will be at a disadvantage when you return, but a well aligned marriage could work. The prince of the Summer Court is unmarried, but you may find yourself at war with Amren over him. There is a princess of the Summer court that may be interested." His shadows tucked in tight to him.

"I shall consider that. Thank you for the advice, spymaster." No hint of her accent could be heard. Nyx realized she was focusing on disguising the accent in order to focus her attention. Her eyes kept wandering around the room as though she could not keep focus on the current conversation.

Tamlin appeared to nudge Isa subtly. He gave her a stern look before she turned back to look at Feyre.

"I apologize for the things I said about you." She said barely above a whisper. Feyre gave her a soft look which must have urged her to keep going. "Sometimes I feel angry at you because I see a life I could have had. With you as my mom. It is not fair, but it is true." Nyx could see tears in his mother's eyes that she quickly blinked away.

"I understand that sometimes we say things we do not mean. Right, Nyx?" Feyre gave her son a look. She was giving him an opening to say his piece while simultaneously avoiding responding to Isa. He should tell Isa that he did not mean it.

"Isa, I do love you. Just not in the way you are wanting." He tried to make eye contact with her so that she knew he was speaking the truth, but she did not look up from her hands.

"Okay." She gave a simple shrug.

Nyx felt his eyes brows furrowed at that. He was not sure what he expected her reaction to be, but something more than that. It made him feel something he was not ready to admit. And at this point, would never admit.

"Okay?" He asked with raised eyebrows. Isa was still refusing to look up at him, so he look towards his father who kept signaling with his eyes to go and comfort her.

"Yes, I understand I cannot make someone love me." The bland delivery of the words encouraged Nyx to move towards her. He kneeled before her in her chair and grabbed her hands, forcing her to look at him.

"I do love you." He emphasized. He did not want this to get lost in the mess of everything else. Something about that seemed to spark something in her eyes though. The sight of it made Nyx relieved.

"Not in the vay I vant to be loved. Not in the vay I dezerve to be loved." Her accent was extremely heavy and she began to grip his hands back just as strongly as he was holding hers. Tears gathered in her eyes but they did not fall.

"I vill no longer give you more than you dezerve, Nyx." And with that declaration, the last of her fight left her. She softly pulled her hands away and stood up. Her eyes were blank once more.

"I apologize once again for putting your lives at risk. It will not happen again."

And then she was drooping back to her room with slows steps.

"That went...well." Violet offered unhelpfully. "Right?"

#nyx acotar #acotar #tamlin’s daughter #feyre archeron #rhysand #tamlin

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starbornvalkyrie · 4 years

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acotar one sentence summary

T-minus four months until the A Court of Silver Flame release! In preparation for this long-awaited book, I will be posting one-sentence-per-chapter summaries of ACOTAR, ACOMAF, ACOWAR, and ACOFAS on the 16th of each month.

Also, if you haven’t seen SJM’s sneak peek, you can find it on insta or on this meme by @illyrianwitchling. it’s a mood. and i am deceased.

**Spoiler Warning** This is NOT a blurb or a review. I literally summarized each chapter in one sentence. Yes, they are some of the longest run-on sentences I have ever written and would definitely be flagged by every English teacher ever. And yes, I definitely over-used the semicolon, conjunctions, lists, and pretty much most syntax in the English language. But no, I did not care if the sentences were better split into two or more. It was more fun this way, and easier to keep track of.

Absolutely everything about this belongs to the queen, Sarah J. Maas.

Without further ado, if you lack the time to read everything again, have no fear! Just keep reading below the cut, and enjoy! [The numbers at the beginning of the paragraphs indicate the chapter numbers if you want to skip to certain parts!]

Final Word Count: 2863

[ 1 ] It’s winter and snowing; Feyre is hunting for food when a wolf--that may or may not be a faerie--kills a deer, but she kills the wolf with an ash arrow, skins it, and takes the pelt and the deer home. When Feyre gets home, her father and older sisters--Nesta and Elain--eat the deer, then Feyre and Nesta argue over pretty much everything, especially Nesta’s imminent engagement to Tomas Mandray. The next day, Feyre sold the wolf pelt and deer hide to a mercenary who warned her about faeries crossing the wall while Nesta and Elain were harassed by the Children of the Blessed--people who worship faeries like gods; their dinner that night was interrupted by a roar.

[ 4 ] A faerie in beast-form demands retribution for his wolf friend who was murdered--a life for a life--so Feyre opts to go with the faerie to live out the rest of her days in Prythian, the faerie realm. Feyre and the beast-faerie travel north on horseback, but Feyre doesn’t remember most of it because the male used magic to render her unconscious until they reached Prythian.

[ 6 ] When they reach the beast’s estate, he shifts back into his Fae form, Feyre meets Lucien--an emissary--and she notices that everyone is wearing a mask; Alis--a servant--takes Feyre to a lavish room where she bathed, groomed, clothed, and warned her to talk less, smile more, and listen. She finally dines with Lucien and the beast-fae--whose name is Tamlin--and decides both of them are assholes; the next day she wanders the estate and admires beautiful paintings until Tamlin finds her and tells are about the blight that has plagued Prythian, which also explains why everyone is stuck in a mask. When Feyre was wandering through the gardens, she heard giggling and felt someone watching her but only noticed a silver shimmer; at dinner it seemed like Lucien and Tamlin were trying to get to know her better, and she told them her mother died of Typhus when she was eight.

[ 9 ] In an attempt to get Lucien to talk to Tamlin about freeing her, Feyre went with him on his patrol of the border, but her attempts were futile, and, instead, he let slip that there was a her related to the magic that forced them to keep their masks on; they kept up their banter until Lucien warned her to do nothing but look straight ahead when Feyre felt it. A cold presence overtook them as the Bogge appeared, and after it left, Lucien explained that once one acknowledges the Bogge, it can kill you; Lucien told Tamlin about it when they got back which urged Tamlin went to go hunt for it, and when Feyre was looking out the window waiting for him to return, she saw her father in the garden.

[ 11 ] Before she could get far, Tamlin finds her and makes her realize that it wasn’t her father, but a puca, and warned her that the wards between territories have weakened and everything has changed; Tamlin hunts the Bogge day and night without help after he tells Feyre that her family is fed and comfortable, while Feyre has nightmares about killing Andras.

[ 12 ] Though she is illiterate, Feyre walked the halls of the estate trying to make a map until Tamlin returned, injured, from killing the Bogge, so she went to the infirmary to help his wound; Feyre overheard a conversation about Tamlin “running out of time” and Lucien forced Tamlin to spend time with Feyre, leading Feyre to admit she does not like hunting, so Tamlin brought her to the study.

[ 13 ] In the study, Feyre tried to teach herself to read so that she may send a letter to her family, but on a break, she discovered a mural depicting the story of Prythian--along with the seven courts; after fighting with Tamlin about denying his help in writing the letter, Feyre went to Lucien to ask how to catch a Suriel. In her success with trapping the Suriel, Feyre discovers that Tamlin is the High Lord of the Spring Court, learns about the King of Hybern, is warned to Stay with the High Lord, and is about to learn about one of a disobedient commander from Hybern called The Deceiver, when four naga--terrifying faeries made of shadow and rot--found them in the clearing. Feyre freed the Suriel, killed one naga, ran away, killed a second naga with her knife when it grabbed her, was saved by Tamlin who killed the last two, and was healed by him as well--they shared a moment.

[ 16 ] After Feyre cleaned up from the attack, she met Lucien and Tamlin for dinner where they told her that faeries can indeed lie and are unharmed by iron and that Feyre’s family know she’s okay and know to run at the first sign of something amiss due to a threat in Prythian; Feyre is so grateful, she opens up to Tamlin a little more and asks for paint which he responds to by offering to show her the gallery--sparks are beginning to fly.

[ 17 ] Feyre woke from a nightmare only to hear shouting from Tamlin as he carried a faerie with his wings cut off, and when Tamlin realized there was no way to save him, Feyre held the faerie’s hand until he died and a little while after that; when Tamlin walked Feyre back upstairs, she expressed her regret and sorrow for killing his friend.

[ 18 ] The next day, Tamlin and Lucien took Feyre to a beautiful landscape where Tamlin showed Feyre a pool of starlight and revealed a bit of Lucien’s background--he is the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court--and as the swam in starlight, Feyre told Tamlin about her father’s demise and her years in the woods; on the ride back to the manor, Lucien told Feyre he was sorry that he hesitated when he heard her scream from the naga attack and gifted her his jeweled hunting knife.

[ 19 ] When Feyre’s painting supplies arrived, Tamlin showed her the gallery, and she began to paint and paint for weeks and weeks until one day, they shared a moment in the gardens; Tamlin told Feyre about his parents, how he became High Lord when his entire family was killed, and was in the middle of explaining Calanmai--Fire Night--when the Attor, invisible to Feyre, came to confront Tamlin about how much time he has left and to not break his terms with her.

[ 20 ] The day of Calanmai arrived, and Tamlin ordered Feyre to lock herself in her room until morning, so she did--until she didn’t; Feyre followed the drums to find some sort of firelit party filled with High Fae, and when three of them tried to lure her away, the “most beautiful man she’d ever seen” saved her from them. Feyre thanked the stranger then walked away and found Lucien who angrily brought her back to the manor as he explained that magic is going to take over Tamlin and force him to mate with a random female for the good of the land; when the Great Rite is over, Tamlin finds Feyre and expresses how badly he wanted it to be her instead--shows it by biting her neck.

[ 21 ] Feyre and Tamlin tease each other about the night before and apologize for their behaviors at lunch the next day, and for dinner, Feyre asks Alis to dress her up in a gown rather than the tunic she usually wears; Feyre brought Tamlin to the room she’s been painting in, showing him a painting she did of the pool of starlight, as well as various images of her life in the mortal lands, and Tamlin chooses to keep the painting of the woods she used to hunt in. The next day, Feyre and Tamlin were in the enchanted forest where he granted her fae senses that allow her to truly experience Prythian--they have another moment.

[ 23 ] When Feyre wakes up, she finds Alis in her natural form and is able to see all of the fae who were hidden from her initially; she went to go paint in the garden but is startled by a head spiked to the top of the fountain, and Tamlin and Lucien claimed it was the High Lord of the Night Court’s idea of a cruel joke.

[ 24 ] The Summer Solstice came, and although the blight seems to be getting more intense, the denizens of the Spring Court partied; they danced, drank wine, Tamlin played the fiddle, then he took her to a meadow and kissed her and watched the sunrise. Despite the great night they had, Lucien informed them the next day that the blight took out two dozen Winter Court younglings, then a silence came over them, and Tamlin ordered Lucien to glamour Feyre to hide her from the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand; Feyre listened as he taunted Tamlin and Lucien, learning about a woman named Amarantha until Rhysand discovers she’s there and seizes control of her mind until she told him her name is Clare Beddor.

[ 26 ] The encounter with Rhysand scared Tamlin so badly, he told Feyre that he was sending her back to the mortal realm; as a send-off, they made love until the morning, and before she drifted to sleep, Tamlin expressed that he loved her, thorns and all. Alis dressed Feyre in wealthy human clothing, Lucien pleaded with Tamlin to let her stay, but Tamlin sent her off with an “I love you” and a promise that he will see her again; when she arrives at her family’s new estate, Elain tells her how they got their fortune back excitedly, while Nesta was a more wary of her return.

[ 28 ] Elain shows Feyre her garden, prattling on about the social season and how Nesta tried to visit Feyre only to have her carriage break down and have to return; Feyre’s father finished counting the gold and jewels that Tamlin sent with Feyre, so she went to the cottage her family used to live in and found the path she took into the forest, longing for Tamlin to call her back to Prythian. Feyre handed out gold and silver coins to villagers, sneered at Tomas Mandray who was talking about a house that burned down with the whole family in it, and wished the best to Isaac and his new wife; back at the estate, Nesta told Feyre that Tamlin’s glamour didn’t work on her and how she tried to cross the wall but couldn’t find a way through, so Feyre told her the story of her time in Prythian, then Nesta asked her to teach her how to paint.

[ 30 ] After the ball Feyre’s father threw in her honor, she finds out that Clare Beddor’s family’s home was burned down and no one survived, so she tells Nesta and Elain to prepare for anything amiss coming from Prythian--she had to go back; it took her days, but Feyre finally found her way through the wall and to the Spring Court, only to find the manor wrecked, Tamlin nowhere to be found. Feyre finds Alis packing to flee the Spring Court, and she tells her the story of Amarantha, Jurian, and Clythia, and about the curse she put on Tamlin and his court for forty-nine years; Feyre finds out all she needed to do was tell Tamlin that she loves him, but it’s too late for that, so she asks Alis how to get Under the Mountain.

[ 32 ] Alis took Feyre all the way to a cave entrance that will take her Under the Mountain, and as Feyre snuck through the cave and tried to figure out where to go, the Attor found her. The Attor took Feyre to Amarantha’s throne room where she saw Tamlin seated next to her and found out they tortured Clare Beddor until she died; Amarantha made a deal with Feyre where she is to complete three trials on the full moon or solve a riddle to break Tamlin’s curse--or die--and then the Attor beat her.

[ 34 ] Feyre woke in a dungeon with a broken nose and various injuries and waited until Lucien came and healed her a bit while also confirming that Amarantha keeps a hold of Jurian’s’ eye and finger bone; at some point, she is brought before Amarantha again, and the High Queen used Rhysand to trap Lucien’s mind until Feyre gave up her name, then Amarantha gave her the riddle that would free everyone immediately if she answers correctly.

[ 35 ] The first full moon and Feyre’s first trial came: she had to hunt the Middengard Wyrm in a labyrinth of mud, so Feyre set a trap made of bones in its lair and covered herself with the mud to make herself invisible to the blind worm; her plan worked, though she impaled her arm on bone, and when she was faced with Amarantha, she threw a bone in her direction before Amarantha told her only one person bet she would win--it was Rhysand.

[ 36 ] Feyre waited in pain for days until her fever spiked and Rhysand came to her cell to heal her, but at a cost; in return for healing her, Feyre is to spend one week a month in the Night Court with Rhysand after they were freed from Under the Mountain, and since it is apparently custom in his court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh, Feyre received a tattoo of dark blue designs on her left hand to her elbow.

[ 37 ] Between trials, the guards instructed Feyre to clean the floor of the hallway or else they will turn her over a fire, but they gave her dirty water that only made the floor dirtier, so she was about to give up when Lucien’s mother came and made the water clean in exchange for Feyre saving Lucien’s life; their next chore was to dig lentils from the ashes in Rhysand’s room, but he used magic again to help her, then used his powers to convince the guards to keep their hands off her and to stop giving her household chores.

[ 38 ] Every night until her next task, Feyre was bathed, painted, and dressed to become Rhysand’s plaything for evening festivities, but he always forced her to drink the wine so that she would not remember--though the paint on her body revealed that Rhysand never touched her anywhere but modest places; Amarantha caught a summer lordling trying to escape, so she used Rhysand to discover why, and, for whatever reason, he lied and said he was alone and gave the faerie a swift death, rather than shattering his mind like Amarantha asked.

[ 39 ] Feyre’s second task came: she had to solve a riddle to pull a lever or else she and Lucien would be crushed by a heated platform of spikes--but Feyre can’t read, so when she went for the wrong lever, pain from Rhysand flared in her hand until she hovered over the correct one; Rhysand--in her mind--instructed her back to her cell with dignity, where she wept until he came to visit her and licked her tears away--effectively keeping her from shattering completely.

[ 40 ] Again, Feyre spent every night after that as Rhysand’s plaything, until there was one night that they overheard the Attor and some other creature talking about the King of Hybern’s disappointment in Amarantha; Feyre almost broke after that until beautiful music entered her cell and took her away, if even for a moment.

[ 41 ] During the last party before her final trial, Feyre and Tamlin finally got a moment to sneak off together, but Rhysand found them and kissed Feyre until Amarantha saw to disguise the paint Tamlin ruined; later, Rhys went to Feyre’s cell and confided in her how unhappy and tired of Amarantha’s games he is, and she finds out he is targeted because it was Rhysand’s father who killed Tamlin’s family.

[ 42 ] Feyre’s final task is to stab three innocent faeries in the heart with an ash dagger, and though the first two kills were easy, something broke inside of her, and then shattered when she beheld Tamlin as the third faerie; Alis had told Feyre to listen, and from that, Feyre remembered that Tamlin’s heart is made of stone, therefore she could not kill him, so she said “I love you” and then stabbed him.

[ 43 ] Amarantha did not free everyone right away, but began to beat Feyre--and also Rhysand when he made moves to help her--trying to force her to say she doesn’t really love Tamlin, but Feyre figured out the answer to her riddle--love--and then Amarantha snapped her neck. Feyre watched from Rhysand’s mind as Lucien and the Spring Court removed their masks before Tamlin’s beast killed Amarantha; each of the Seven High Lords of Prythian came forward to sprinkle a kernel of their powers onto Feyre’s body in exchange for what she did for them--for freeing them.

[ 45 ] The High Lords made Feyre into a High Fae to bring her back to life, and then held meetings to discuss how to move on; before they left, Feyre was pulled to Rhysand so that he could say good-bye, but something startled him into leaving abruptly, so Feyre went back to Tamlin, and Amarantha’s Court was destroyed.

They went home.

To the Spring Court.

---

I wasn’t sure if I should add my tag list to this... but i did anyways. let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in these summaries lol. or send me an ask if you do lol

@maddymelv || @lucy617 || @tillyrubes10 || @faerie-queen-fireheart || @tottenhamboys20 || @the-third-me || @superspiritfestival || @rolltide7 || @courtofjurdan || @sleeping-and-books || @aelinchocolatelover || @julemmaes || @sorrehnotsorryy || @courtofjurdan || @acourtofaelinbryceandfeyre || @darlinminds || @lucieisabooknerd || @queen-of-glass || @jlinez || @abookishfreak || @stardelia || @ladywitchling || @rockgirl321 || @sjmships || @thewayshedreamed || @mamakramer || @meowsekai || @illyrianwitchling || @sanakapoor || @ireallyshouldsleeprn

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #summary #sarah j maas

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drjackandmissjo · 3 years

Text

it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- Chapter 2 --- next chapter

Feysand masterlist

Tiredness came crushing Feyre down like a boulder. It had been a long day, a long life, and she couldn't wait to get back into her dorm room, snuggle up in her bed and let the world disappear, even if just for a couple of hours. It was what she deserved, having let down everyone in her life with her stubbornness and uneasiness.

Despite the initial rush of relief and euphoria, everything else came rushing back into focus. The loneliness, the stress, the hunger.

Although she was the youngest of her family, she had been the only one willing to work. Her father couldn't move from the bed most days and her sisters were far too proud to get dirty hands in any situation that didn't require spending money, instead of gaining them. Feyre had managed to juggle great grades in all her AP classes in high school as well as two minimum wage jobs, one in a diner as a waitress and the other in a small arts & crafts shop. Since she had been 14, she was the only one bringing an income to the table, to make sure that they had food and a roof over their heads. Their father's small veteran pension didn't suffice anymore as soon as Nesta, her eldest sister, got into their city's most prestigious and expensive university, choosing an economics major, and money became even less when Elain, the second one, was accepted into the same university for their botanical department. Granted, they both managed to archive scholarships, Nesta with her stellar grades and Elain with a cheerleading position. But money had never been easy to begin with and even with those scholarships, Feyre still had to struggle to keep the family afloat.

Both sisters still lived into their childhood home with Feyre and their father, their mother long gone, but both claimed to be far too busy with schoolwork to help their sister economically. Feyre knew she shouldn't resent them, but every time either came to her asking for money for new expensive shoes or to go out with their friends, she couldn't do anything other than swallow the bile and give in to their demands, wondering when would come her turn to be a normal teenager and go out with her nonexistent friends.

When Feyre's time to leave high school came she was faced with a decision: community college, since she couldn't afford the one her sisters went to without selling both her kidneys and a lung, or move away to Velaris, to the other side of Prythian, where the art department offered her a full scholarship after having received her request of admission and a sample of the works she had created during high school. She would still need to work to pay her stay and maintain the nearly perfect grades she had in high school, but she knew she could do it.

As soon as the acceptance letter came alongside the papers for the scholarship, she sat both her sisters down. Nesta had started working in an office, putting in good money with a 9 to 6 routine, but Elain was still on her senior year. Fortunately for Feyre, her eldest sister seemed to understand the situation and all but kicked her out of the house as soon as September rolled around, paying herself for Elain's last year. Feyre didn't ask for anything, and neither sister gave anything.

During the summer Feyre worked still her two usual jobs and began studying for her freshman courses and her sophomores ones as well. She wanted to finish early and so she planned and rescheduled the credit units she had to take each year to be able to finish in 2.5/3 years instead of 4.

On September 1st she had packed her entire life into a couple of suitcases and kissed goodbye to her sisters as she boarded the train for a 12 hours ride to the other side of the country. A plane would've been quicker but also more expensive and she planned on saving the money, old habits dying hard.

" This feels just like leaving for Hogwarts" she had thought as the train began to move out of the station, her sisters still there to wave her goodbye one last time.

She had moved into a dorm room and began working at the library that same day, as soon as her badge began working. "Screw freshman week!" Feyre thought as she shelved books and checked them out for other students. She had heard rumors about what went down in that short period of time and it wasn't truly her cup of tea anyway.

Her roommate was a senior in fashion & merchandise named Alis, bronze skinned with long black curls that framed her face nicely. She helped Feyre settle in and brought her to a few sorority parties in the first month, dragging her despite the younger's complaints about wasted hours. Alis had laughed at that and simply replied "You don't wanna miss too much 'cause you're studying all the time, trust me."

She had met Tamlin at one of those parties. He was a sophomore and member of one of the fraternities around campus and began to hit on Feyre immediately, relentlessly. At first she was flattered, not used to guys giving her attention of any sort if it wasn't for exchanged coursework, but she still maintained herself cold and distant, not sure of how to fit him into her packed schedule. After a few months of incessant flirting, although she had brushed him off several times, she had finally caved in and they began dating. "I knew you'd come around!" he had claimed.

Their first months were incredible. He didn't bother her much nor demand too much time from her, letting her study and work. He filled her up with warmth and with him, for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel alone in the world anymore.

She enjoyed the time she spent with him, but then May came and Finals with it. Feyre couldn't move from the library, remaining there after her shift had ended and studying in one of the booths. She simply didn't have time for anything else. She had to keep all her grades up, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to remain at the university.

That was when things started to go downhill with Tamlin. They fought almost constantly due to his paranoia and her lack of availability, and yet he had chosen the worst possible moment to confess the depth of his feelings to her. They argued about her job at the library, how it was talking too much time from their relationship when it happened. Feyre felt like she was being gutted as he spoke the three words that she had never heard before in her life. "Why do you look like it's the worst thing you've ever heard?" he had demanded harshly when she hadn't replied immediately back. "Because it is" she wanted to say, but instead followed his lead, giving him empty words without meaning, because everything was better than the constant fights.

He became obsessive then, as if her void confession had flipped a switch inside of him, and demanded to know where she was almost every minute of the day.

Thankfully summer came and went, the two months a sweet reprieve as she went back home. She had ended all her compulsory freshman classes and half of the ones she was supposed to take during sophomore year and loosened a little, choosing to focus on making a little more money to be able to live comfortably in Velaris.

Then it was again September. Tamlin had picked her up from the train station and took her to a nice restaurant to make up for the ' lost time' without her during his summer in Europe. Feyre didn't particularly mind, but she also didn't like over the top romantic gestures as much as he did. Still, she kept quiet and enjoyed the nice evening, as he was back into his ' old' self, as he spoke of his travels and the people he had met and the food he had eaten. By the end of the night they didn't have much time to share how she had spent the summer working and being overall plain and boring, but she didn't mind that he hadn't asked, since she hadn't been particularly fond of telling him either.

A new school year meant a new roommate for Feyre, since Alis had graduated that summer, and whatever star was looking over her granted Feyre Morrigan.

Morrigan Gold was a beautiful soul. She was pre-law junior and had a constant real smile on her lips, her long golden hair cascading on her back in soft curls. Her tan skin and kind brown eyes gave her an aura of gentleness that very few possessed. She was truly Feyre's first real friend, not just someone to hang out with or to talk to, but someone she could see easily in her life still 50 years in the future, sipping tea and laughing on a porch, talking about everything and nothing.

"That's how you know someone's gonna stick" Mor had told her one night, coming back from Rita's, their usual club, "you imagine being old on a porch with them!" Feyre had laughed at that, claiming that she wasn't 100% sure of that reality since she couldn't imagine Tamlin ever sitting outside peacefully. That just earned her a pointed stare from the other girl, but neither commented and they changed the topic onto something easier as they stumbled back to their dorm room, completely wasted and happy. The next day brought a wicked hangover and Tamlin, pissed that she had gone out without him and that she had drunk, but Mor, bless her soul, didn't comment either. She just offered Feyre a shoulder to cry on and her comfort, swearing to cut off his balls at her command. The aspiring artist merely laughed at that through her tears, unsure of what she wanted to do herself.

But having Mor as a friend meant also that Feyre had been adopted into her Inner Circle.

Adopted by Amren Drake, the tiny terrifying senior that already had a job for the following year as an associate to teach Ancient Greek.

Adopted by Azriel Nox, Morrigan's adoptive cousins that learnt informatics and coding as if they were his mother tongue.

Adopted by Cassian Nox, Mor's other adoptive cousin that could cook a masterpiece and also ' kick some serious butt' at any given occasion.

And, finally, adopted by Rhysand Nox, Mor's actual cousin of blood. Rhys was an English major, a year older than Feyre, like everyone else in their little family. He was the type of person that one day, without a doubt, would win some prize for the things he wrote, but still had to master the art through higher education first. The only way to describe him was by calling him a 'dreamer who refused to settle into a grey reality'. He was an optimist and one of the most beautiful people Feyre had ever met, both inside and outside. Jet black hair, dark skin and a smile that could knock the socks off of a statue, he was also the most humble and down to earth guy in a mile radius. They had hit it off right away, with innocent platonic flirting and long serious talks. He knew she was with Tamlin and didn't push her boundaries. He saw the world the same way she did and she understood what he meant before he even said it.

Needless to say, when Tamlin found out who she was hanging with, he became even more paranoid than he already was. It wasn't only the fact that she hung out with males that weren't him to set him off. The thing that drove him ballistic was her closeness with Rhysand, his sworn one-sided enemy that had bested him in every class they had shared on their freshman year.

Her best and closest friend in the entire world.

She had been forced choose by Tamlin, before the Christmas break, between him and her friends, and choose to please her boyfriend and started to isolate herself little by little from her group of friends, afraid of what would have happened otherwise. After all, she had no one but Tamlin, right?

But as she came back from the free days spent at home with her sisters and father, she began to realize how lonely she was, how unhappy she had been lately. She had retorted back into her former self, into the girl that only thought about school and work, that didn't have time for friends.

Feyre decided to give their relationship more time, to wait till the finals were over and till everything was back to normal, but things never were normal to begin with.

And so, that cold February day, she cut it off in front of all her classmates and began to feel immediately better.

But now she was once again tired.

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romanparrishlynch · 5 years

Text

For the first time

Chapter 5

His siren was insistent.

Azriel reluctantly left his bed and walked to the door.

Duck his siren said as soon as he opened his door.

' duck? What do you mean duck? '

Duck

A stream of fire headed straight for him and he barely had enough time to dodge it. The next one headed for him almost immediately and before he could duck, it caught him in the gut. Pain laced through his body. His siren manically laughed in his head. Azriel swore and slammed the door close. He tried to sense what attacked him. There was no scent nor a presence. Whatever attacked him was cloaked.

You're pathetic his siren voiced.

'And you're really helpful'

He closed his eyes and tried to sense the intruder again. There was a crash and the door shuddered from the impact. A second later it was ripped clear off the hinges.

Azriel could see the outline of something larger than six foot and wings billowing behind. Definitely not a witch.

"Which circle of hell did you crawl out of? " Azriel muttered.

It was a demon Azriel was sure now . It walked into his house as if there were no wards. Azriel stared into the firey red eyes of the demon. It was a seven foot tall nightmare. Vaguely humanoid. Expect for the wings. Azriel didn't know if the wings were functional or merely a show. He hoped it was the latter. It's hide seemed thick. Any physical attack wouldn't do him much good. He sunk his power into the demon's mind. The demon staggered a few steps and grimaced.It shook it's head as if flinging off his power.

He tried to stare down the demon.

Two seconds passed and the demon took a running start.

Shit shit Shit.

Azriel ran to the kitchen and threw a knife at the demon. The knife hit the demon square in the chest and fell to the floor with a clang. He threw another knife and the demon caught it. Oh well . Azriel smirked at the challenge. He ran straight towards the demon and it threw a punch straight at him. Even from the distance, that fist looked like it could smash him. He dodged and went straight for its head. Perfect. He locked his hands around it's head and slammed his full power into it. The demons grip tightened and went lax. He jumped to his feet and thought about what to do.

You ruined all the fun. It's not often you get to fight a demon. Not fair. The demon could have lasted for another hour his siren whined.

Azriel sighed and took a pan form the kitchen and hit the demon until the pan dented, while his siren cackled.

" This one's for the door " Azriel said as he hit the demon for one last time.

Azriel dematerielized along with the demon to amren's house. He landed just in front of the coffee table and saw his friends sitting around it. He heard the satisfying sound of glass shattering and concluded that the demon had arrived. Unconscious though. The shock on his friends faces made it worth it. After all he had a reputation to uphold.

" I had a visitor " Azriel said.

Amren recovered first and sneered at azriel " You broke the damn table. Was that really necessary? "

" Maybe " Azriel replied.

" What the hell is that? " Rhys asked " it's a demon obviously " amren answered.

" It looks ugly " Cassian said with a scrunched nose " it smells even worse" cassian made a gagging noise.

" You can smell it? " azriel enquired. " oh my god azriel , what do you mean can you smell it? It smells rotten. You can smell it from a mile away" Cassian asked incredulously. He could also see the others scrunching up their noses. " It was probably cloaked " Azriel said as he tried to figure out why he couldn't smell it.

" Demons can't cloak their powers or their presence. It didn't try to kill you?" amren asked " Well it did throw balls of fire at me. But other than that it didn't seem all that excited about killing me. It just stood there, like it was stalling. " Azriel shrugged. He hadn't encountered many demons to know about their behaviours. Demons this caliber was rare.

" we need somewhere to store this thing " Azriel mused.

"Dibs " cassian called out.

" What the hell are you gonna do with that? " mor seemed outrageous .

" You seem way too excited about a demon" rhys commented.

" is it dead?" cassian asked .

" No" Azriel answered.

" Sweet " cassian said with a manic grin which earned him disgusted looks from amren and rhys . Mor looked at cassian like he had grown horns.

" Amren do you know anything about it? " rhys asked pushing the demon with his foot.

Amren who already was prodding the demon answered " It's a gaki demon. Second hierarchy. Very Powerful. Whoever summoned it must've been more powerful than the demon so as to control it. These things are hard to summon and tricky to deal with. "

" Just what are we dealing with? A witch? " Rhys asks staring accusingly at amren.

" What are you implying rhysand ? I'm not the only witch in velaris that can do this. If you think only witches can summon demon , then you are wrong. "

" Do you know anyone powerful enough to Summon this demon? " Azriel asked.

"I know a total of three powerful people who can summon this demon within this town and none of them are stupid enough to do this " amren said .

Not three but four . Why do they always leave us out of it. His siren crooned.

" Let's have a conclave meet" Rhys said.

" Why? " Azriel asked

" Because a gaku demon just attacked you. In your own damn house. The place where we usually have a conclave meet. So yeah we do need to have a conclave meet. Can we do the meet at my place this time? " cassian asked excited at the prospect of hosting a conclave meeting. Azriel would never understand why cass wanted to put that many hostile creatures in his house. Probably the werewolf thought it was fun.

" First of all it's a gaki demon. Not gaku. Second, we have the meet at my house because I'm a neutral party. You are not exactly neutral " Azriel said.

" How am I not neutral? " cass said, feining hurt.

" Do you really wanna let beron in your territory? " Azriel grasped at the only thing that came to his mind. Even he wasn't all that excited to have beron at his place.

" Well you got me there " cassian nodded thoughtfully.

" We can have it at the Gemini, they have a soundproof room at the back which is big enough. " azriel suggested. The Gemini was a bar, owned by nuala and cerridwen, it was usually quiet during the day .

" How do you know they have a back room which happens to be soundproofed?" Cassian asked.

" Any other questions?" Azriel continued over cassian as if he hadn't spoken.

" Isn't it too open?" Rhys wondered aloud .

" Maybe then you'll try to be civil" Azriel shrugged. -------------------------------------

Azriel and cassian dragged the demon to amren's dungeon.

"I can't believe she didn't tell us about the dungeon " Cassian remarked .

The cage, that cassian liked to call a dungeon was located in amren's basement. Azriel noticed the bars were made of iron. They put the demon in and locked it.

" You are staying at my place tonight " cassian said to him .

"I don't need a babysitter . I'm more than capable of protecting myself"

-----------------------------

Azriel pushed open the door and quickly shut it behind him. He walked in and saw everyone was present expect beron. Apparently beron had more pressing matters to attend to. In his stead, Eris had come and was glaring at Lucien with a scowl . Lucien did his best to pretend like his brother did not exist. He took the seat next to Rhys.

"Finally. Now that everyone's here, let's cut the chase, yesterday there was a demon attack in the siren's territory " Amren said flatly.

Azriel had to admit that their reaction was priceless. Tarquin had look of disbelief. Eris had a face that said ' That concerns me how '. Thesan seemed doubtful. While Helion was looking at azriel with concern.

" Hence the new venue. It was a gaki demon. We know neither it's intention nor it's origin. " Rhys started "I think whoever's behind this might be targeting the alphas. Azriel barely survived the attack---"

A startled noise left azriel's mouth as he stared at rhys in disbelief. A laugh broke out from cassian.

" Where is the proof ?" Eris asks .

"We have no proof. We have no proof that the demon exist. Hypothetically, if the demon did exist, we can't be sure that it was targeting the alphas. For all we know, he had done something to piss off that demon before. " Thesan said . Cassian threw a stack of photos on the table.

" Is this the same demon that killed tamlin? "

" This proves nothing. " Eris said, not even bothering to look at the pictures. Azriel wanted to pummel him. He refrained himself. His siren gave him mental picture of how satisfying that would be .

" Why are you even here? " Cass asked Eris. To which Eris shrugged. They argued some more which Azriel tuned out. He decided it was not worth his while. His siren seemed to agree. Cassian was in a heated argument with Eris and Lucien. Azriel thought he should intervene. They were getting too loud. Azriel opened his mouth to say something. But decided to leave them to their own devices. Azriel wondered what Elain would be doing right now.

You could call and ask her his siren said.

He decided to text her. He pulled his phone out and sent a text to Elain's number which got from cassian.

'Hello' Azriel couldn't remember the last time he texted anyone.

Sure Cassian had texted him a lot of times but Azriel never replied. Probably because his powers didn't work through text. Now Azriel wondered if she knew his number.

He sent ' it's azriel ' just in case. He checked if his phone was on silent. It was. So he put it back in his pockets.He noticed the curious glances rhys kept sending him. But neither he not rhys voiced anything. Cassian and Eris were still going at it. He noticed tarquin was conversing with Thesan.

"Can we leave now? " Azriel asked rhys, his voice was low but when you were in a room full of vampire and shape shifters it's hard not to be heard.

"You were attacked in your own territory but you don't seem so concerned about it? It makes one wonder why." kallias asked with a questioning stare, speaking up for the first time.

" Is that question or an accusation? " Azriel wanted to be clear before he started throwing punches.

" What if it was? " Eris challenged him with his gaze. Azriel was more than ready to meet it. The demon didn't prove much of a fight. His siren was practically begging for some chaos. Eight pair of eyes turned to look at him. He could see the outrage on Cass's and Rhys's eyes. Azriel knew they would defend him if it comes to that but they would let him fight his own battles. Besides the question was directed at him.

Azriel laughed. Because he really found it hilarious. His siren wanted out and for once he didn't object. " Do not forget that I'm older and more powerful than you. Besides I had you in my territory for more than two centuries now and if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it ages ago." Azriel knew this wouldn't ease their minds but he didn't care. He had to give it to Eris because he held his stare even though even though he knew he was no match for Azriel. But Azriel could see the fear in his eyes.

" Az" Rhys said it casually but it had hint of urgency to it. Azriel realized he was practically glowing white. Of course his siren had gone the extra mile. He knew without a doubt his eyes had gone white. His hands grew scales and claws. He hadn't fully shifted . He had only done this twice and it was long time ago. Azriel looked at Eris and saw that there wasn't going to be a fight. Azriel smothered his siren's request. At this rate, his siren would probably kill someone just to prove it's power . He had grown tired of their alpha bullshit nonsense a long while ago. He noticed everyone was on the edge waiting for his next move.

" I'm out " Azriel said and made to leave .

" Maybe you might wanna wait till you stop , you know....." Rhys trailed off, giving him a knowing glance.

" I agree . I do not want to walk into an orgy on the way out . As amusing as that would be. Humans are still loitering around. " helion suggested with a wink. At this cassian howled with laughter as rhys said " I thought you'd be interested in that " Azriel looked around and then at himself . The glow has reduced and the scales retracted. The tension in the room turned down a notch. The alphas began to leave the room.

--------------------------

Azriel stared at the demon face. Amren's basement was poorly lit. He had to squint. It did look like a dungeon.

" Here we go " amren said as she lifted the sleeping curse. The demon groaned. Azriel looked at it and it stared back.

The eyes. Azriel knew that there was something wrong with the eyes. He expected rage. Gaki demons were violent . The eyes were blank . The silence beside him indicated that amren thought the same thing. The eyes might be the demon's but the one looking through those was something else. The demon smirked as it's skin started glowing and cracks formed emitting fire. Before azriel could figure out what was happening it burst from the inside out.

---------------

Sorry for the late updates

If you are still reading this , thank you so much. ♥️♥️♥️

#for the first time #chapter 5 #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel fanfic #elain and azriel #rhysand #cassian #supernatural

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soartfullydone · 5 years

Note

ONLY DO THIS IF YOU'VE REACHED A GOOD BUFFER WITH NANO. Me/Tamlin - "You were never supposed to be the strong one."

I’M SORRY IT’S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO ADDRESS THIS YOU’VE PROBABLY FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT IT BY NOW BUT HERE WE GO

The string of Cassandra’s bow gave a sharp twang as she loosed another arrow. The wooden shaft flew fifty feet, one hundred, and embedded in her target with a satisfying thunk.

But Cassandra didn’t feel satisfied. Not at all.

She still remembered Tamlin’s face when she passed over all other weapons in his armory and reached for the bow and arrows, hefting their weight, instantly feeling comfortable and attuned with them. She’d expected his lips to quirk in a smile that was as full of pride as it was regret. Instead, his face had turned to stone, a bleak shadow entering his eyes—no longer the brilliant emerald she’d come to know but a dull jade.

From a distance, his eyes could’ve been any color at all, and in that moment he’d already seemed so far away. She’d reached out to anchor him back to the world, but the moment her fingers grazed his hair—now a faded wheat color instead of its shining gold—he’d flinched.

Her emotions were still churning in turmoil over the entire thing. Teaching herself how to aim and fire until she’d finally hit something hadn’t distracted her like she’d hoped. The burn in her upper arms, back, and shoulders was obvious, her brow was shiny with sweat from standing in the sun for hours—maybe she’d even gotten a sunburn for once—but none of it seemed to matter.

Not against the weight of everything being her fault.

She reached back for another arrow, only to find her quiver empty. It was fitting in a way, she mused as she gathered her arrows, one after another. Maybe all this wouldn’t matter in the end, no matter how hard she was trying to make up for what she lacked.

For what had happened at the Autumn Court.

The memory of Tamlin—her brave, strong, honorable Tamlin—roaring with rage at the sight of her, at seeing him on his knees before her, human and powerless, as she woke from a bloody death almost sent her to her own knees. Eris had done terrible things to her. His whip had cleaved her skin into pieces. His hands had burned as he held her face in a vice-grip. He’d forced her to sing Beron to an early death then muzzled her like a rabid dog, the fire in her throat ready to torch through her at his whim. All of it paled in comparison to making her watch as he played with Tamlin.

The new High Lord of Autumn did his dark work well. Cassandra and Tamlin had been broken that day in different ways, and she didn’t know how they would put themselves back together again.

But she was going to try, starting with this bow and these arrows.

If she ever lost control of her voice again, if she was ever prevented from using it to save herself or her loved ones, then she would make damn sure she had something else up her sleeve.

She was a siren, but she was also a halfling. It was time to find out what that other half was capable of.

A low whistle drew her attention. “I didn’t think you’d catch on this quick. Look at you.”

Lucien strolled over with that smirk he had, the one that managed to be impressed and condescending all at once. Cassandra had learned not to take it personally, not when he showed it to fae and mortal alike, but now it was impossible for it to matter. Lucien was trying desperately to act like everything was fine and normal, but she could see the strain around his eyes—russet and mechanical—as the threads he was grasping were starting to fray.

Lucien had never wanted to be High Lord of any court, and right now he was High Lord of Spring in name only. Despite losing his powers and immortality, Tamlin was still High Lord because he was not dead and the magic binding him to the role had not deigned to choose another—but no fae, even the most tolerant, would recognize a human ruler to obey or fight for. So Lucien had stepped forward out of love for Tamlin and his home to fill the power vacuum before the other Courts got any ideas. Cassandra could only hope that Lucien would hold on as long as possible before he broke like the rest of them.

At least all of Tamlin’s sentries had adjusted to the change in command. Lucien was a familiar face among them even if he was an Autumn fae and a questionable choice as a leader. All of them, including Cassandra, shared in their surprise at how seriously Lucien was taking the responsibility.

“You don’t have to sound that surprised,” she dead-panned to him before smiling impishly. “But by all means, keep on. I��m sure the sentries would love to see their acting-High Lord dance a merry jig until sunrise.”

“I can do that all by myself without your help, thank you.” Lucien heaved a long-suffering sigh. “If only the Solstice was that close.”

The reminder sobered both of them immediately. What would happen when the Summer Solstice came? Or worse, Calanmai? Could Lucien complete the necessary rituals to restore the land’s magic if Tamlin could not? She didn’t want to imagine what would happen to Spring if not.

“I hate to be the bearer of more bad news,” Cassandra continued, “but we have a more immediate problem.”

“Oh, good,” Lucien said with mock-relief. “Any chance this is one I already know about?”

Wordlessly, Cassandra picked up an arrow off the ground and extended it, fletching first, to Lucien. The top of the shaft was split, continuing down for several inches. She didn’t know where the arrowhead was. Buried in a tree or hiding in the grass, maybe.

Lucien sighed again, but this one was genuinely heavy. “For once, I am weary of magic.”

“Is that what kept them from breaking before?”

“Well, of course. Such a minor thing for a High Lord to do. Why would we worry about adding varnishes when magic can do it?”

“So I take it, not something you’re wasting your own magic on?”

“Flattering as that idea is, no.” Lucien gestured a hand to his person. “The Cauldron did not deign to overflow me with abundance.”

“Right.” Cassandra twirled the arrow between her fingers, thinking. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too hard to employ someone to do it, particularly if they were around for the last war. You might want to consider something stronger than wood, too. I know iron does fuck all against fae, but it’ll be harder to break at least.”

“We should have the treasury for it. I knew Tam’s whole ‘low-staffed, low-maintenanced estate’ thing would benefit us someday.” He sent her a glare, but there was no real heat in it. “Thank you for bringing this to your liege’s attention, though I’m tempted to have you shot for it. I have enough problems.”

His griping brought a smile to her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Speaking of problems, are we going to war with Autumn?”

“It seems inevitable.” Lucien might’ve heard Cassandra’s heart stuttering with disquiet, but he definitely noticed how her shoulders tensed with anger. “I say that, but inevitable can still mean a long time to wait, by mortal standards. We could be at a stalemate for several years.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Lucien?”

“I’m trying not to scare you off.” Before she could argue against that sentiment, he continued, “We still have the alliance with Summer. Practically iron-clad at this point. If Tarquin isn’t going to cut ties with us over all this”—Lucien twirled a hand to indicate the entirety of their situation—“then I’m almost convinced nothing will.

“Autumn won’t dare to go against us while Summer’s guarding our gate, not until the rest of the courts declare who they’re for, assuming they don’t all just remain neutral.” A dark look crossed Lucien’s face as he looked to the north. “Still, there’s no telling what the Night Court will do. Rhysand won’t go to war for Eris, but to destroy Tamlin? I wouldn’t be surprised if he already had agents infiltrating the courts, stirring everyone up so they’ll do his dirty work for him.”

Subtle machinations and a knife in the dark is how Cassandra understood the Night Court did business. She didn’t want to meet any one of them unless it was to end them.

At the mention of Tamlin, her thoughts turned to her own problem.

“Have you seen him?” Cassandra ventured. “Tamlin, I mean. How… How is he doing?”

Lucien lifted a brow at her, his red hair glowing like fire in the sun. “Shouldn’t you know better than me?”

For some reason, she bristled. “Just because I’m technically human doesn’t—”

“That’s not what I meant.” Lucien had the good sense to wince. “I meant, because you’re close to him in a way that I’m not.”

Ah. Now she was uncomfortably hot, and the sun had nothing to do with it. “You have known him much longer than me,” she pointed out.

“Well, then.” Lucien crossed his arms and turned toward the estate as he considered. “I’d say he’s taking this whole thing rather poorly, which is expected, but is handling it better than I could’ve hoped.”

“What a typical fae answer.”

“I didn’t—” Lucien cut off with an aggravated sound. “Tam is… He’s a hopeful person at heart, but these past fifty years have worn on him. What happened with my bastard of a brother”—Lucien sneered the word—“is but one of many wounds that’ve happened to him over those years, all while he’s been the Spring Lord.

“I’d bet my other eye he thinks he’s the worst thing that could’ve happened to Spring. Going from being all that he was to human—I can’t imagine what that must feel like.” Lucien rushed to add, palms up, “Not that being human is the absolute worst thing, but it’s close.”

“Thanks.”

“But it’s not self-pity he’s drowning in,” Lucien pressed on. “I think it’s worry. He’s terrified about what’s going to happen next. To these lands, to us, and especially to you.”

Cassandra felt despicable at the doubt creeping through her. “I’m not so sure. This morning, we were in the armory, and… And, I don’t know. I thought it’d give him some peace of mind that I was willing to learn how to defend myself outside my powers. But instead, he recoiled from me, and his face…” The wood of her bow creaked as she clenched it in both hands. “I feel like he regrets it. Sacrificing everything to Eris for me. That I even found myself here. Us. All of it.”

Lucien’s gaze darted to the bow in her hands and back to her own. Cassandra nearly recoiled herself as a hint of Tamlin’s earlier sorrow flickered in his good eye. But his voice was soothing and soft. “Believe me, Cassandra. That’s not it at all. Tamlin may regret many things, but saving you will never be one of them.”

“Then, what is it? If it’s about being mortal, then—then, I’ll help him in any way I can. I want to help him. I love him, and it kills me, it kills me that he’s distancing himself when he needs us the most. So if you know what it is, tell me, so I can go knock some sense into him and then get to the heart of the matter.”

“It’s really not my story to tell,” Lucien hedged before gritting his jaw in determination. “But I’ll tell you this. There was another human here, once. Tam cared for her, in spite of everything, and in spite of that, he couldn’t protect her. And she died.”

Cassandra felt her heart break, just a little bit. Oh, Tam…

She had always suspected that maybe there had been another before her. There were hints of a mortal influence around the estate that she had never been able to fully place, things she’d noticed because she had been raised in the human lands herself. That was one area of Tamlin’s life that she had yet to breach. She supposed now it was time to.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Lucien.” She turned and practically sprinted all the way back to the estate.

She found Tamlin, of all places, in the library, surrounded by towers of books. He didn’t look up as she entered on silent feet, and it sent a pang through her heart. Was it because he was trying to avoid her, or because he hadn’t detected her, his fae senses gone?

Glancing at the spines, Cassandra asked, “Are you trying to learn how to be human?”

Tamlin didn’t start like he was surprised to find her there. He closed the book slowly, and the cover revealed that it was more of the same. Human histories, human folktales, all things to do with the mortals and their way of life.

A few had been brought by Elizabeth, but the rest, Cassandra knew, had all been recorded by fae historians, who were poor replacements for the real thing. It was still a shock to find this many books about mortals in the library at all when Tamlin’s father had once enslaved them.

“I’m…” Tamlin began, not meeting her eyes. His hair shifted across his shoulders, no hint of a pointed ear peeking through the strands. Like her and other mortals, his ears were rounded now, and Cassandra had picked up that this change was one that he was particularly mortified about. “Just trying to make sense of all this.”

“When you do,” she said gently, “you should definitely let me know. I’ve been trying to figure out how to live for ages.”

Slowly, Tamlin raised his head, and Cassandra found that, mortal or not, she still wanted to fall into the depths of those eyes. They were different now, yes, but they were his.

Taking his reaction as an invitation to sit down, she did, nestling in a chair right next to him. Her quiver and bow clattered onto the floor, immediately drawing Tamlin’s attention.

Heart in her throat, she said, “She was an archer, wasn’t she.”

Tamlin was silent. It was horrible.

But then— “How did you find out?”

He sounded sad, but mostly tired. It was alright to have this conversation. “How do you think?” she quipped.

“To think Lucien is being entrusted with court secrets,” Tamlin said archly, “when he’s incapable of keeping his traitorous mouth shut.”

“He was just worried about you. I am, too, especially after this morning.” Cassandra didn’t feel the need to go into details. They both knew what she was referring to. She reached for his hand, and it was warm. That’s something Eris couldn’t take away, and she’d kill him if he tried. “I don’t blame you, not for anything. And I won’t tell you not to worry about me. Worrying is natural, and I can’t promise that nothing bad will ever happen, no matter how much we prepare for it. But you don’t have to shoulder everything yourself. We can worry together.” She leaned closer, hoping her words would hit her mark just as her arrow had. “And we can fight together, too.”

Tamlin’s brow was pinched, eyes flickering over her, searching. He squeezed her hand and said with equal parts apology and wonder, “You were… never supposed to be the strong one.”

“That’s the thing, though,” she said, touching her forehead against his. “We can be strong together, too. And weak. It doesn’t matter, just so long as we don’t shut the other out. I love you, Tamlin. As far as I’m concerned, Eris took the least of you, and I kept all the rest.” Cassandra cupped his face in her hands and drew him closer still. “What an idiot.”

They kissed, and it was an apology and an oath all in one. It promised an eternity that no amount of magic ever could. It was slow and deep and all-consuming because this was not an end for them, but a beginning. Because Eris had failed and they weren’t broken.

When they parted, Cassandra was in Tamlin’s lap, his arms around her and the book he was reading on the floor, forgotten. Tamlin pressed her closer until their bodies were flush together, her head resting under his chin.

“I’m terrified of losing you,” he murmured against her hair, “and there will be nothing I can do to prevent it.”

“That goes both ways, even when you were immortal,” she told him, holding him fiercely and not caring a bit. The admission seemed to surprise him—he stirred against her, pulling back as if to see the truth of it on her face—but she refused to let go. Only buried her head in the crook of his neck. “But no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out. Right?”

Cassandra felt Tamlin inhale. Slowly, he nodded. “Together.”

None of their real problems were really gone. Eris was looking for the opportunity to strike, the Night Court was likely circling both Autumn and Spring like a vulture, but she felt a little bit lighter.

Because Tam was still here with her, and they were both alive, neither of them running. The wall between them dismantled before it had a chance to truly be built. Lucien was doing all he could to keep the court together, and their people were choosing to be strong and stand with him, with Tamlin.

Right now, the world was far away, and that was enough.

#zacksfairest #this is long and probably not great but hopefully you'll like #can you tell how much i miss when this series was good???#there was just the one book tho. a shame.#fae court au #otp #cue scene

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hermioneblack · 6 years

Text

A Court of Hope and Moons- Chapter One

(Chapter One- hopefully I can keep the chapters coming almost every other day while I am unemployed. If you want to be alerted when I update this please let me know :D ) @alicethelonerabbit

One Year after the War

Feyre stood at the door of the nursery, her baby girl was sleeping quietly. Elain had passed out next to the crib after spending 2 hours trying to coax the tiny baby to sleep with a shadow puppet made by real shadows that followed the Made seer around at all times.

Feyre smiled at the sight of her sister and daughter. She turned slowly away into the living room of her townhouse. She picked up bits and pieces from the couch and floor, cleaning up absentmindedly. She spent a lot of time lately doing things without noticing it, as if half her mind like half her heart was gone.

When she had seen Rhys fall all she wanted to do was fade away, leave the living behind and run away into the abyss with him. But he wouldn’t let her, the part of him that stayed with her, the mating bond was still there even though he wasn’t.

Oh Feyre Darling he purred down the mating bond everytime she thought about fading, every time raising her little girl seemed to much. Everytime she grew jealous of her sister and her mating bond with Cassian or her anger when Elain threw away her mating bond with Lucian to try things with Azriel.

She is our little ray of Hope isn’t she? He said the day she was born. After 12 hours of labour and cursing everyone who tried to help, their daughter had been born, 8 pounds of screaming crying baby with tiny delicate wings that wrapped around her small pink body. Already at only a few months old she was the spitting image of her father, dark hair and her skin tanner than Feyre would ever hope to be.

“Hello Hope, we love you so much.” she had said holding her tiny baby in her arms. She could feel Rhys with her, smiling at his two girls.

Hope had kept her alive, kept her running the Night Court. In an ideal world she would have waited, waited till her and Rhys had had a life together before children, but if Feyre had learnt anything in her short and bumpy life it was that nothing was ideal.

With the living room tidy and her baby asleep she fell onto the couch.

“Oh Rhys, I miss you.” she whispered to the empty room. And as she closed her eyes she could almost hear Rhy laughing a her and whispering in her ear, I miss you too.

20 Years after the War

“Hope, you are not leaving this house in that!” Feyre stood at the bottom of the stairs her hands on her hips.

Her daughter stood at the top, her black hair falling over her shoulders as she did a spin in her new dress, picked out by Mor. It was so short the Heir to the Night Court was wearing tiny shorts underneath the skirt, the material was tiny and black with tiny glittering stars all over, her already tall frame was made taller by 3 inch boots that seemed to be painted onto her calves. Her wings peaked out the back of the backless dress, they fanned out as she spun and Feyre couldn’t help but admire her daughters wingspan and its strength. After training her whole life with Cassian and Azriel she was faster then her dear old mum, plus her wingspan seemed to rival even Az’s.

“Come on Mum! It’s the Summer Solstice! Plus Aunt Mor is wearing something similar!” She almost ran down the stairs to hug her mum. Feyre pulled her into a tight embrace, hoping that if she clung onto her daughter for a little longer she will stop growing up.

“If Aunt Mor jumped off a bridge would you follow her?”

“Yes, I have wings.” Hopes smirk made Feyre’s heart jump and skip, it was so much like her fathers.

Let her wear it Feyre, she can’t cause that much damage Rhy purred down the bond.

Of course she can, she’s your daughter.

Rhys laugh echoed down the bond followed by an image of him tipping an imaginary cap. No matter how much time passed since his death she still heard him every day.

“I want you home by twelve and not a moment later.” Hope laughed again before running to the living room and returning with a garment bag under one arm.

“You’re coming too Mum, everyone is.”

Feyre wanted to say no, she wanted to stay home and maybe read her book or do the same thing she had done almost every night for 20 years. Sit in her room and stare at the unfinished painting of Rhys.

But Hope stood there, her large eyes an exact replica of her father's with the garment bag out and she knew she had to go. For her daughter.

She took the bag and made her way up the stairs.

Enjoy your night Darling

“I will, my Love.” She whispered to the sky.

One Hundred and Fourty Nine Years After the War

Hope moved out after her 148th Birthday, into a townhouse three doors down from Feyre. The day it had happened Feyre had fussed, had helped fold her daughters clothes and wrapped all breakables.

Cassian and Hope had laughed as the High Lady moved around the room packing up her daughter's life in the most human way.

Hope smiled and pulled her mother into an embrace, together they looked as if they were the same age. Hope had settled at 19, her body forever looking as if she was a youthful teenager. She was taller than Feyre and with her tanned skin and broad wingspan she was her father to her T. The only difference the whole Night Court noticed was that Hope never looked defeated, she never looked away with grief or memories. She had been raised with love and kindness and nothing had darkened her childhood.

“Mum, you do realise we can just winnow this all into my house.” Her voice was so much like Rhys, sometimes Feyre had to close her eyes and take a moment.

“I know, but give your mother a break. It's not everyday my only daughter leaves me.” Feyre held Hope closer. Her daughter always smells like rain on a summer's day.

“I’m going three doors down, I am not moving across the wall.”

“I know, I just like having you here that's all.” Feyre moved back across the room, refolding the clothes she had already folded. Hope and Cass just shook their heads before making quick work of moving everything to the new flat.

----

Feyre stood in the empty Townhouse, for the first time in a hundred and fifty years she was alone. No daughter stumbling in, no Cassian and Nesta arguing over anything and no Elain and Azriel sitting in silence as they read a book together. And no Rhys.

She hadn’t heard him in weeks, the mating bond finally had gone cold.

I need you Rhys, She sent down the bond, feeling her way down the tether only to find a solid wall of obsidian. I need you to tell me how to do this. I raised our daughter, I brought peace to the courts and I built the wall literally over your dead body. I need you.

Silence was her only answer, horrible deafening silence.

Feyre crumbled to the floor, her legs giving up. She wanted to sob, to scream her pain but no sound could escape her lips. It was as if her whole world had gone deaf with the loss of her bond.

All her magic poured out of her, the darkness from Rhys, her sunlight from Helion, Her claws from Tamlin, all the powers and magic she had received from all the High Lords tried to force their way from under her skin and crawled over her curled up body.

She laid collapsed on the floor of the hallway, shaking and staring at nothing. With the end of her mating bond and the end of her daughter needing her Feyre fell into something worse than fading. She became a shell.

Nesta found her hours later, walking into the town house like she owned the place she fell to her knees at the sight of her baby sister staring at nothing sounded by shadows and light with claws gripping into the hardwood floors.

“Feyre! Get up!” she pulled her to her chest, rocking and shaking her.

“Get up Feyre! Get up and fight! Don’t sit back like he did, don’t fade into nothing like Father did! GET UP!” Nesta pushed her own magic through Feyres shields, tearing open her mind and grabbing Feyre from her shadow prison.

She wrapped her mental hands around Feyres soul and pulled her to the surface.

The High Lady of the Night Court blinked in her sisters arms, she breathing shallow as she took in her sisters strong arms and tearfilled eyes.

“I don’t want this anymore Nesta.” She whispered her own eyes filling with tears. “I can’t do this without him.”

Nesta closed her eyes, choosing her next words carefully, “We all know this is hard Feyre, Cass and Az lost their brother, Mor and Amren lost their family. None of us know how hard this could be at all for you. But you have to keep breathing and moving and being. Because you have a daughter, who is Rhysand. Remember that, she is him. Stay with us just a little longer for her and for me. Please.”

Feyre almost smiled, it was the nicest thing Nesta had ever said to her and for just a small moment she thought Maybe I can keep going.

So she did, Feyre stayed with her family. She ruled the Night Court, she dined nightly with her inner circle and she would walk the streets and talk to her people every day. She stayed for Hope and her sisters. But a part of her stayed in the shadows of her mind, nursing the thought fading like a toxic fall back.

Elain and Nesta watched their sister daily, finding excuses to walk with her or to make her spend the day with them. They watched her half hearted smiles and her darkened gaze when no one was looking. They watched her and nursed her, not back to who she was but enough to make sure Hope never found out.

Two Hundred Years After the War

Elain felt the vision pull her from her dreams, the vision felt cold. Her night dress billowed around her as she walked through the vision woods. She had a feeling she had been there before as she picked her way barefoot through the undergrowth. The air was cool and dry, and with a quick realisation she was in the Spring court. Further into the woods she went she found the new wall. Build after the war, a visible wall seen by humans and fae, it was built over the grave of Rhysand and held together by magic of each high lord. Elain had never seen it in person but over the last 200 years she had many visions of the wall, it had been singing out to her since its creation but she had never understood why. This was the first time she had walked to it, taking in its height and simplicity, just red brick over 12 feet high. She dared to raise her hand up, her long elegant fingers gently grazed the stone. Then the vision started to take control, images flyed at her, each vision like a punch in her skull. She saw flashes of Rhysand, of cassian and Azriel, of the court of nightmares and dreams and of things she could not make out. She felt pain in her heart, in her lungs then the burning started, from her core her body was burning from the inside out. She doubled over and both her hands grasped the wall, her fingers gripping the rough surface. The burning pain moved suddenly from her core, up her chest and then burned through her arms, leaving her body though her fingers. She screamed in pain as the flames left her body, burning her nails. She pushed away from the wall, breathing heavily to catch her breath. The pain had subsided leaving her feeling colder than she had ever felt.

Stepping away she took in her finger prints on the wall, they had burnt away the stone and gently she poked the holes, the rest of the stone fell away under her touch and she felt something alive under the shadows. Whatever it was pushed the rest of the crumbling stone away, Elain stumbled back losing her footing on the undergrowth she fell down onto her back. Pushing herself halfway up she saw movement in the shadows, they stumbled from the wall slowly, their face tilted up and the moonlight lit up their features.

“RHYS!”

Elain woke with a start, her eyes opening to darkness as she felt her partners wings close further around her. She had awoken like this so often it brought her comfort as the chill from the vision slowly melted away.

“Breathe.” muttered the sleepy male next to her. Azriel tightened his wings closer around her like a cocoon and pulled her close to his chest, she clung to him with a hunger that she hoped would never pass as she slowly came to her senses, the chill from the vision and sleep finally slipping away from her. He rubbed her shoulders as his shadows moved to replace his wings, shifting so she could see that it was still night. After all these years she was still shocked by the warmth the shadows brought to her bare skin

What happened? he whispered to her, mind to mind. His words like a shiver down her shields.

Elain took some time to answer, her vision still replaying over and over in her mind. She couldn’t send it to him though. They had learnt years before that her visions were hers alone and no matter who or what tried to see them they never could. The cauldron had created a shield for her visions stronger than anything the shadowsinger had ever seen.

“I saw Rhys. I saw him stumbling out the of wall.” she shivered at the memory, she could still see it as she closed her eyes. Her fingers flexed as she remembered the flames that had escaped their tips. Azriel stilled, his fingers that had been running up and down her arms stopped. She moved off him, turning to look him in the eyes. The whole vision tumbled from her lips as Azriel kept a solid hand on her back, his eyes staring intensely into hers.

“Az, I think Rhysand is alive.” she whispered the words breaking the eye contact, afraid that if she said them outloud the universe would find a way to prove her wrong.

He shook his head, his hair falling to his eyes.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” they leant forehead to forehead, taking in this new information. Elain knew what it meant, if Rhys was alive then Feyre would get better, their child would have a father and the Inner Circle would finally heal.

#feyre #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #elain archeron #elain x azriel #azriel #cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #ff #acotar ff #shadowsinger #@alicethelonerabbit

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the-wheel-comes-full-circle · 7 years

Text

The Snowball part 20

Yo I finished an essay so here have another chapter :)

Link to other chapters X

Feyre's head was throbbing like there was still loud music playing nearby. Her head felt so disconnected from her body she wondered if it was even still attached to her. That was until she tried moving an arm to cover her face from the faint light of morning and found that she was stiff and sore.

Feyre could have lied down, tucked into warm, clean sheets all morning if her mouth wasn't as dry as a desert, and her tongue as rough as sandpaper.

Her hand blindly reached out searching for her bedside table where she normally kept a glass of water, and instead hit something soft and fleshy, and very much alive.

Feyre yelped and jolted upright. She relaxed when she saw Rhysand sprawled across her mattress, mouth open and eyes shut, clearly dreaming.

He was still fully clothed and had half kicked off the blanket he had taken from the end of her bed.

Feyre registered she was wearing a baggy, oversized t-shirt that was definitely not her own.

When Feyre tried to remember the bar last night, all that came up was her and Rhys playing their game with Amren, and Nesta beating Cassian at drinking. Much of whatever happened afterwards was a blur.

A rising sense of nausea and a sickly heat had Feyre scrambling from the bed and running to the bathroom as her stomach punished her for all the alcohol she had consumed.

Feyre sat huddled over the toilet bowl as her sweat slicked hands gripped the bowl until her vomiting subsided.

She thought she had been quiet until a soft padding of footsteps told her otherwise. A warm hand pulled back her hair while the other rubbed her back and shoulders soothingly.

"Morning." Rhys said sleepily, while quickly planting a kiss on the top of Feyre's head.

Feyre groaned back in response which made Rhys chuckle.

"If it's any consolation, I think Cassian is having an even worse time than you." Rhys laughed.

Cassian's room was near Feyre's and they shared the same bathroom wall, which meant that Cassian could probably hear her throwing up right now, if Cassian was even conscious.

Feyre wiped her face with some toilet paper that Rhys handed her.

"You did this to me." Feyre said groaning, as she rested her forehead on the cool outside of the toilet bowl.

"I never did anything to you, this is your own fault."

Feyre went silent before asking, "Did you change me?"

"As fun as that would have been, no. You insisted you could do it yourself and I had to leave the room. It took you three times to finally get it on the right way, and not inside out."

"Is this your shirt?" Feyre asked, eyeing the gray material.

"Maybe." Rhys shrugged.

"Why?"

"You asked to wear it, and I obviously didn't mind." Rhys said, glancing down at her exposed legs.

Feyre groaned at how embarrassing her drunk self was. "Sorry, I guess I must have been a handful last night, huh?"

Rhys just smiled at her softly, "It's repayment, for you looking after me the other night and making sure I didn't do anything stupid."

"Did I do anything else... stupid?"

"You were fine. Perfectly well behaved."

"Really?" Feyre asked surprised.

"No." Rhys laughed. "When I got you home you refused to go to bed until I'd made you pancakes. You then dropped the entire bag of flour and decided to paint with it. You also kept touching my hair and saying how much you liked it."

Feyre curled into a small ball on the floor and hid her face from Rhys. "You can just kill me now. It's okay I'm ready."

Rhys instead pulled her to her feet and convinced her to go to the kitchen and try to eat some food.

In the kitchen Feyre was surprised and a little afraid to see Amren and Nesta sitting together and talking easily.

Amren offered them a small wave when they entered but otherwise ignored them for her conversation. Nesta however, looked up and locked eyes with Feyre before her eyes flitted to the shirt she was wearing and how it was so obviously not her own.

Feyre tugged at the hum of the shirt self consciously and wished that she had changed into something else before coming down but it was too late now.

"How's Cassian?" Rhys asked.

"He wakes from a coma long enough to hurl his guts up before slipping back under." Nesta grinned at them.

"I'm glad someone taught him a lesson for once." Amren muttered.

"Maybe I should go ask if he wants a coffee or something?" Feyre asked.

Behind the counter, and out of view of Nesta and Amren, Rhys wrapped an arm around Feyre's waist and tugged her closer.

"He'll be fine, he just needs to sleep it off." Rhys said into her ear.

Feyre blushed as she felt Nesta's eyes lock on them again.

"What happened to you two last night?" Nesta asked suspiciously.

Amren cut a glare at the two of them. "Well I know what they were doing before they disappeared."

"No hard feelings Amren?" Rhys said winking, which Amren pointedly ignored.

"I didn't see you leaving the club." Nesta tried again.

"That's because you were too busy drinking flammable liquids." Feyre quipped back.

"Feyre was a bit tipsy so I brought her back home to sleep." Rhys added when Nesta looked like she would question further.

"I suppose she also doesn't own her own pyjamas, so you brought her some of yours too?" Nesta asked with a sardonic grin.

At that Rhys sputtered and Nesta turned to Amren who grinned back at her.

"Are Mor and Az home?" Feyre asked quickly.

"Yeah, they came back just before dawn." Amren answered.

Just then a news report came on the television that had everyone racing to get closer.

A headline was flashing across the screen as well as a photo of Tamlin which read, "Tamlin claims abuse rumours made up".

"This ought to be good." Amren rolled her eyes.

Feyre's eyes were glued to the screen as Tamlin appeared on camera being interviewed by a reporter.

"Were you and Feyre in a relationship?" The reporter asked.

"Yes, we'd been together for several months." Was Tamlin's monotone response.

"And did you attack her?"

"Absolutely not. I loved her." Tamlin's response was adamant.

"Then why would she spread these accusations?" The reporter pushed.

"Because she was using me for my money. I was supporting her family who lived in another town and I recently stopped, she must have gotten mad and decided to get revenge."

Feyre's blood was boiling as she witnessed Tamlin lying on national television. She reached out to take Rhys's hand for support which he squeezed back.

"She also mentioned that you were backing a deal which could potentially destroy a whole community?" The reporter asked.

"That's ridiculous, why would I take part in anything like that knowingly?"

Feyre was disgusted and made to turn off the tv when it switched to footage captured on a cell phone of her and Rhys leaving Rita's. She watched in horror as she was clearly drunk and unable to walk, with Rhys swinging her into his arms before they disappeared from view.

A voice over from a reporter cut in, "Clearly Feyre Archeron attracts the attention of very wealthy and influential men, seen here leaving a night club last night with Rhysand. Can we really trust her word?"

"What just happened?" Feyre asked in shock when a new segment started.

Amren quickly shut off the tv, leaving them in silence.

"He'll pay for this." Rhys growled, still staring at the tv as if he could see Tamlin.

"No. Getting into another fight isn't going to help anyone." Feyre said rubbing her temples.

Quick footsteps from the hallway alerted them to Mor and Azriel entering.

"We just saw the news!" Mor said horrified. "Feyre I'm so sorry this has happened."

"It's fine. We knew this could happen." Feyre said trying to remain calm, but her voice broke on the word fine.

"We just need to discredit him further." Azriel suggested.

"Yeah, find someone, a witness maybe?" Mor agreed.

Feyre listened to them all argue it out while she retreated into her own thoughts. The reporters didn't have to use the words that everyone would now associate her with. Gold digger. Man eater. Slut.

She sat down on the couch and stared numbly at the ground trying to sort out how she felt.

Rhys continued to talk to the others, shooting her worried glances, but giving her some space to think.

When the doorbell rang everyone jumped.

"I'll get it." Azriel said.

They all listened quietly as Azriel answered the door. He spoke so quietly that Feyre couldn't hear what he was saying but she thought she heard him dangerously growl "Get out".

Eventually two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway and Azriel reappeared looking angry but wary.

When Azriel stepped out of the way Feyre saw why. Standing behind him was Hybern.

Rhys was immediately in front of Hybern, standing face to face with him as he did everything but outright snarl and bare his teeth.

"You are not welcome here." Rhys said growling.

Hybern simply smiled slowly. "How nice it is to see you again Rhysand. Shame about your house, but I am actually not here to see you." Then Hybern turned his dark eyes to look directly at Feyre.

Rhys noticed the look and took an impossible step closer to Hybern, practically nose to nose.

"Leave her out of this." He said dangerously.

"I just want to talk to the lovely Feyre." Hybern smiled sweetly.

The compliment only angered Rhys further who looked like he was one word away from throwing a punch.

"Rhys it's okay. I want to hear what he has to say." Feyre interrupted.

Rhys whipped his head to look at Feyre and the moment he saw her, his eyes softened and he stiffly nodded, moving away to stand back by her side.

"Impressive." Hybern whistled. "Do you know how many years I have tried to train that mutt?"

"It isn't too late for me throw you out of here. Say whatever it is that you want, and then leave." Rhys warned.

Hybern held up two hands in surrender. "Alright. I simply wanted to ask Feyre to drop her ridiculous allegations."

Amren scoffed. "And why would she do that?"

"Because I asked her very nicely." Hybern smiled sweetly at Feyre, but Feyre could see the rottenness underneath, and the threat that was thinly veiled.

"...And if I don't?" Feyre challenged.

"Well. I'd lose a lot of money if Tamlin was unable to fulfil his part of our deal due to... unforeseen circumstances. It would be quite terrible for my staff. Some you may even know." At this, Hybern smiled wickedly and Feyre had an uneasy feeling in her gut.

"Either tell us what you mean, or get out." Rhys snarled.

"Manners Rhysand. I know your mother taught you, what would she say if she could see you now?" Hybern taunted, and it broke Feyre's heart to see Rhys's composure break a little.

"Enough. Tell me whatever it is you came here to do or I'll call the police." Feyre asked angrily.

Hybern sighed dramatically. "If you kept a closer eye on your own family members Feyre, you would already know."

Feyre's heart plummeted. She glanced at Nesta confused. Nesta had her brow furrowed and looked like she was furiously trying to solve something.

"Just tell me already!" Feyre practically shouted.

"Tamlin was so very kind to give me some details when I mentioned I needed a new receptionist. Elain is a very diligent worker." Hybern bragged.

Feyre started shaking in anger but it was Nesta who spoke to Hybern.

"If you hurt her-"

"I would never hurt an innocent girl. Neither would any of my business partners. But, as I said, bad things happen when I lose money. So many workers lost." Hybern said sadly, and turned on his heel to stride back out the front door.

#the snowball #acotar #acomaf #sjm #sarah j maas #sjmaas #feyre #feyre archeron #Rhysand #rhys #feysand #fanfic #au #feyrhys #feyre x rhysand

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aelingalathynius6 · 7 years

Text

Set Spring Ablaze (Part 7)

For part one, search the hashtag SSA1. For part two, search the hashtag SSA2. And so on so forth. Just replace the number of the part you want at the end of SSA. For example, part three will be SSA3…

______________________________________________

SORRY FOR THE TREMENDOUS WAIT GUYS, IT’S FINALLY HERE!

________________________________________________

Aelin stared and stared at the note in her hand. One word clamoured through her head again and again and again.

Fireheart.

Had Rowan somehow found a way to bring her back? He must have managed to replicate her Wyrdgate, if he was able to pass a message from one realm to another. Oh, thank the Wyrd! She could go home! All she had to do was get someone to fly her up to the Wyrdgate in the sky and-

She’d have the war to face. She was still outnumbered. She had no idea whether the life debts she’d called in had been acknowledged. She needed an army.

And she still owed a life debt to Feyre Archeron.

From what Aelin had heard, Feyre’s court was incredibly powerful, the bearers of unfathomable power. Any member of her Court could fell armies by themselves. And as a unit…they were unstoppable. As for her mate…the greatest Fae male to ever walk Prythian. Capable of destroying the world in one blow. He’d be invaluable in any war, especially hers.

She and Feyre still had a deal. And she intended to keep it. But maybe she could throw in a few extra clauses.

She took a deep breath. Ever since her birth, the war had been in her hands. She would not fail her world now.

She turned to face Feyre, who was watching her carefully, as if she could sense the enormity of what she was about to say.

“The service of my Court in return for the service of yours.” Aelin didn’t let her voice shake as the words left her mouth, even though she knew the future of the world depended on her decision. She trusted Feyre to make the right decision, no matter what that might be.

“I’ll bring in some of my Court to aid you in your war, and in return, your court will help fight against the Valg in my war,” she explained.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” she continued. “I know that what I ask will require deliberation with your court, but I think it might be the only way to win both of our wars.”

Feyre didn’t say anything as she thought it over.

“I’ll consider it.”

It was the best she could have hoped for.

____________________________________________

It was dusk when Tamlin called for Aelin. She knew enough about politics to know that keeping him waiting would only rile him up and demonstrate her own power over him. It was sorely tempting, but she had to try and appear obedient, or else he would never trust her enough to let her sit in on his meetings. She had to earn his trust, whatever the cost.

So she appeared at the throne room within five minutes of his summoning. One glimpse at his face and it was clear that he was not happy with what he was about to say. Aelin kept her own victorious grin hidden. He couldn’t go back on his deal now.

“I imagine you know why you are here,” Tamlin’s voice reverberated throughout the empty room.

He looked pissed.

“I may have some inkling,” smirked Aelin. She may have to pretend to be loyal and obedient, but she wasn’t going to pretend to be some clueless girl, either.

“I do believe we made a deal, my Lord ” she purred.

Tamlin’s face was like thunder. “Indeed we did,” he growled. “I am a man of my word, and I will allow you a place in my guard.”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she beamed. She didn’t even bother to wipe the smirk off of her face as Tamlin continued.

“What your duties will entail will be explained by Lucien,” he gestured to the red-haired Fae at his side, who seemed startled by this declaration.

“Wait, what? Tam-“ he started.

“Enough!” roared Tamlin.

Lucien looked ready to argue back, but a stern look from Tamlin silenced him. Aelin prickled with indignation for the fiery fae, silently urging him to fight back. She didn’t know Lucien, but she liked him a far deal greater than the ridiculous High Lord sat on the throne. Feyre had told her enough about the both of them to know that she and Lucien had once been friends, before after she was taken to the Night Court. Lucien had stood up for Feyre time and time again, but had failed to persuade Tamlin to change his mind when it mattered most. In the end, their separation was the result of Lucien being oppressed by the man languishing on his throne.

The man on the throne was a coward.

Aelin fought to keep her frustrations from her face, focusing instead of the job she’d been given.

“If that is all, then I must take my leave,” she smiled.

“Yes. Lucien, go and show her what to do. And watch her,” his eyes narrowed on her, “make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.”

She gave a mock bow and turned on her heel to leave, Lucien in tow.

_____________________________________________

As they walked, Lucien explained what would be required of her as a guard.

“From here on out, your sole duty is to protect the Spring Court at whatever cost. DO NOT abandon your post at any time, unless absolutely necessary.”

She couldn’t help but be reminded of Chaol at that. She wondered how he was faring at the Southern Continent. She hoped he’d walk again, he deserved that for all he’d done and sacrificed for everyone.

“You will patrol the Court grounds from dawn til midday. Afterwards, Tamlin wants you to guard Feyre. Apparently, you’re the only one she trusts in this court, and she refuses all of the guards he tries to station with her.” Aelin heard the wounded tone and raised a brow.

“Do you think maybe it’s time you talked to Feyre?”

Lucien just snorted. “As if she’d want to talk to me.”

Aelin sighed. “Well you’ll never know if you never try. And isn’t that why you’re not friends anymore anyway. Because you didn’t try hard enough for her.”

She was surprised at how quickly he snapped, “It’s none of your business! And I tried my best for her! I fought for her when no one would, I was going to have my mind wiped out to protect her identity, and it’s never enough! I fought for her, but there are boundaries in this court. I stepped over them for her. And she doesn’t see any of it.“

Aelin blinked. She hadn’t expected all of that to come pouring out of him so fast, but she supposed he’d been bottling the feelings up for a very long time.

And maybe Feyre and Lucien both misunderstood each other.

Lucien hadn’t given up on Feyre, he’d done the best he could for her. He’d suffered physical and mental abuse for her. And Feyre hadn’t given up on Lucien. She was still holding out for their friendship, if not an alliance at the very least. This much she knew.

Maybe it was time the both of them talked.

Sorry this is so shitty I had to speed write this because I’ve been so busy lately but next part will be better and out a lot sooner than this one was. Thanks to everyone for the continued support I love you all xxx

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illyriantremors · 7 years

Text

Beneath the Stars Chapter 8

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII

AO3 Linkage

Summary: After a particularly regrettable fight with her sisters and Tamlin, Feyre tracks her boyfriend down at Ianthe's Newspaper party and receives an unwelcome surprise. Full breakdown ensues.

Chapter 8

Nesta and Elain froze when they saw me. No one said anything, so I cleared my throat and decided to go first.

“Hey,” and then I couldn’t think of anything else to say. It wasn’t like either of them to be home in the middle of the semester especially on a Sunday night before they’d have to be back early the next day for class.

“Feyre,” Elain said trying to smile at the same time that Nesta said sharply, “We need to talk.”

Elain faced our older sister and pressed her hands downward towards the floor mouthing something. Nesta grimaced, but spoke again with a little intensity. “Mom wants you to come home.”

“What?”

“Can we at least sit down first?!” Elain stammered.

“Fine,” Nesta and I said at the same time taking seats on the living room couches. “What is going on?” I asked. “What do you mean mom wants me to come home? This is home. And when did she decide to talk to you again?”

My sisters looked at each other tightly. Elain bit her lip. “Feyre…” she said slowly with careful deliberation. “We never stopped talking to mom.”

There was a silence during which everyone was uncomfortable and an awful truth sank in. Mom wasn’t talking to my sisters. They were talking to her - actively. I’d had it all backwards.

The only person mom had apparently stopped talking to was me.

And dad.

“But she left us,” I said as a raw spot in my throat went numb. “How could you-”

“We haven’t lived here in years, Feyre,” Nesta said coldly. “It’s time you didn’t either.”

“And go where? With her? Nesta, she hasn’t spoken to me since the night she left.”

“That phone works both ways, you know.” She flipped her hand in the direction of the phone still sitting in my palm. I hadn’t let go of it since I’d left Rhys’s - save for driving of course. “You could have called her. But instead you’ve been sitting here all summer acting like she’s the reincarnation of Hitler and it’s ridiculous.”

“Nesta,” Elain warned, but I was already fuming.

“What’s ridiculous is you defending her. Nesta, mom abandoned us. And she didn’t even bother to say goodbye.”

“That’s because we went with her!”

I sat back feeling like she’d just driven a stake through my heart. “You - you what?”

“That’s right. I dumped dad’s sorry ass and moved in with mom. She got a new place close to school so that she could make it easier on me and Elain with classes.”

I looked to my middle sister. Her body constricted inward on itself as she drew her shoulders up high around her face, her back curving over herself. “What does she mean when she says it’s easier on her and you?”

Elain looked like she might cry. “Feyre - Feyre, we just want you to be safe, okay? That’s all this is about. Mom left so that we could have a normal life because dad’s not well. Now that she has a place arranged, you can get away from him.”

She tried to lay her hand against mine, but I brushed it off. Betrayal took on a whole new meaning as I realized my sisters had left me too. I could see it in Elain’s guilty expression because she knew full well this was a secret her and Nesta had purposefully hidden from me. Why on earth they thought it mattered now to take me away was beyond me.

“Dad’s fine,” I said. “And anywhere with mom could never be a home. Not for me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nesta snapped. She shot out of her seat, ignoring Elain’s strangled gasp and disappeared, coming back a moment later with the kitchen trash can in her hand. It was empty save for at least half a dozen empty alcohol bottles.

Whiskey, bourbon, vodka… whatever dad could get his hands on so long as it took the pain away each night. I hadn’t realized he’d been going through so many bottles after I went to bed.

“You think dad’s okay?” Nesta shouted. “Look at this and tell me this is okay Feyre. Tell me!”

“Shh, he’ll hear you!” Elain said, standing up to put herself on Nesta’s level. Good luck to her. No one could ever pull even with Nesta. She was a tower of fire and venom hell itself could not have forged.

Elain pointed upstairs to where dad’s bedroom was. I prayed he was sleeping deeply by this point, even if that only further proved Nesta’s point…

“I don’t care if he hears me. Let him! He’s an ass for doing this to us and he’s out of his fucking mind.”

She threw the trash can on the floor and the bottles rattled inside causing me to jump. “For fuck’s sake, Nesta - he’s sick. That’s why he needs our help!”

“Get a grip, Feyre. He’s a drunk, and a lazy, depressed one at that. You can’t help him. You can hardly help yourself! Look at you running around with that loser thinking you have a life. You’re just as miserable and pitiful as dad is.”

“Which is why you have to come with us,” Elain said and then froze, realizing how she’d just sounded. “I mean - no, Feyre, I only meant that it’s not good for you to be around dad so much when-”

“I know exactly what you meant, Elain,” I interjected entirely stone faced. “I get it. I’m worthless. Mom said the same thing - right before she walked out. So save it. I’m not going with her. I needed her - I needed all of you - and you all left. Now dad needs me and I’m sure as shit not ditching out on him like the pair of you.”

“Such bullshit, Feyre,” Nesta said, but I cut her off with a shout so shrill, I hardly recognized my own voice.

“That’s enough! For years you have treated me like shit, Nesta and I don’t know why. I’m sorry your perfect sisterhood got interrupted ten years down the road, but you can blame mom and dad for that. So just go back to school. You can pretend like I don’t exist. It’s what you normally do anyway, right? Feyre doesn’t have a life. Feyre doesn’t have friends. Feyre’s not important. Well guess what - you were right. I don’t know why you even bothered coming.”

I stormed past them and managed to wait until I hit the stairs before I let the tears fall. Elain tried to call after me, but I listened as Nesta cut her off and made some excuse about it getting late and early morning classes or some other.

When I heard the car start, I dared peak out the window to make sure they were really leaving and then I went back downstairs to check on dad. The door was shut, but not locked. When I opened it, the room was pitch dark.

Dad was a collapsed heap in the middle of his bed. He was lying on his stomach so I couldn’t see his face, but a second later his body gave a great heave and a heavy snore erupted out of him.

He was okay.

I went downstairs and fetched a broom to clean up the broken beer bottle that had fallen on the floor beside his bed and cracked open, adding it to the trash can Nesta had shoved in my face before taking it all outside.

And then I went to bed wondering if I’d ever have a day that didn’t fill me with some kind of darkness again.

That was the worst part, I decided. Never feeling completely whole. Some days I woke up and watched the world around me burn. Other days I woke up and felt almost normal, but never entirely so.

For some reason, the universe insisted that something had to be off at all times. There were struggles that were easier to pinpoint and understand - problems like the trash can or the unanswered text messages or the unfilled applications, all of which were symbols of a lot more than what they were as simple objects orbiting in and out of my life.

But the days where I couldn’t figure it out, where everything was seemingly fine - those were the days that nearly killed me. I could wake up, pick out an outfit that made me feel good about myself and still feel like dirt.

I could sit at lunch and joke with Tamlin and sometimes even Lucien and hardly touch my food.

I could get an A on every test, come home to find dad stone cold sober, watch my favorite tv show, and get all of my homework done on time and it didn’t matter because I felt miserable. Something was missing. I had people in my life at every turn and I felt disconnected to all of them. I would say things I didn’t mean, ignore the people and ideas that mattered, and let the anger take over while Feyre coasted on autopilot.

The only time I didn’t feel like a complete zombie faking it just to get from one day to the next was my time spent with Rhys and Mor, but I kept those interactions as brief as possible. I sensed Tamlin didn’t like me being around them even though he wouldn’t tell me why, and most days I was too tired to argue. So the guilt clipped my smiles and every time I hung around Rhys for SBC meetings, a little hole in my heart opened up as soon as another closed.

And I was so sick of it. Sick of never knowing what normal felt like anymore. I missed it horribly. Missed understanding what it was like to live life without knowing with any certainty what kind of day I was going to have, what my body was going to dictate I felt regardless of what I wanted. Never had I felt so empty and full to bursting at the same time. It dragged me down and down and down.

Tamlin finally cornered me Monday to talk about the time I’d been spending on student council. He hadn’t spoken to me all day for never calling him back after my first day at work even though I apologized profusely for it all through lunch.

I was just about to open the door to the administration building when I found Tamlin pushing in front of me to slam it shut so hard the window pane vibrated.

“Are you shitting me right now, Feyre?” He kept a hand firmly on the door so that there was no chance of me getting past him.

“What the hell are you doing? Tamlin - shit!”

He stepped in front me, his face only inches from mine. I’d never seen him explode with so much anger before. It made me nervous. Where was Lucien?

“I thought I told you to stay away from Rhys? And now I find out you’re on student council with him? Shit, Fey - is this where you’ve been going every Monday when you ditch on me?”

“Oh because you don’t ditch out on me all the damn time for Newspaper?”

“That’s because Newspaper is actually important!”

All the fire went out of me as that single word Nesta had thrown at me reverberated in my head.

Important.

As in - I was not important.

“I’m getting somewhere with this and you’re wasting your time when I need you most. I tried to call you a million times yesterday and you wouldn’t pick up.”

“I was working. I was…”

With Rhys.

“You were working, huh. At eleven o’clock at night?”

The trash can falling to the floor.

Nesta hollering.

Elain’s milky doe-eyes cringing at me.

And mom, mom was…

“There’s a party tonight at Ianthe’s. She’s announcing co-editors finally. I was going to ask you to go with me, but obviously,” he turned and gestured roughly at the concrete walls I wanted desperately to crawl into, “you have other commitments, so I won’t bother.”

Won’t bother with you is what he’s really saying, my mind registered. When did I get so jacked up?

“If you’re smart - if I matter at all to you, you’ll stay the fuck away from him.”

“What exactly is your problem with him?”

“Should it really matter? Honestly, Feyre. I’m your boyfriend and you should trust me, which is a heck of a lot more than I can say for you right now. He’s not good to be around and he used me and his sister horribly a few years back. Set us both on the wrong path. That’s all you need to know.”

Tamlin left and I hardly took notice of anything as my feet led me mindlessly inside, past the reception desk, and into the meeting room where our SBC sessions took place. I prayed this wouldn’t be one of the days where the principal joined us.

Cassian was the only one there yet and when he saw me, his eyebrows went through the roof.

“What the hell happened to you?”

I sat down and replied with the only two words I knew anymore. “I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you look like crap and that’s putting it mildly.”

Heat flooded my face as a wave of embarrassment crept over me. His expression softened, but he still looked… confused.

“Hey,” he said much more gently. “You know you can talk about it if you need to. I can take the punches if there’s something you need to get off your chest.”

And he meant it. I could tell. Cassian stared at me and he understood something - maybe everything, I wasn’t sure.

I took a good look at Cassian right then, perhaps my first real look at him ever. It was hard to see past the hulkish figure, but for once I managed it. His football jersey hung out of his backpack with dried mud and grass stains worn into the seams. That meant practice almost every day after school. And he wasn’t stupid - not by a long shot. Cassian was taking just as many AP classes this year as Az was. Not to mention Student Council duties which Cassian was very attentive to underneath the pseudo-mockery he made of it.

He’d grown up on the move. Military family, dad probably never home. Was that what drove him? Was that why he gave so much? Because no one gave him anything?

Was that what he was seeing and assessing right now as he stared back at me?

I didn’t have a chance to find out. Mor breezed into the room and plopped down in the seat next to me. I took one look at Cassian and just barely shook my head in the negative.

“Well I’m pooped,” she said throwing her arms down beside her. She had her cheer uniform on so she must have just gotten out of practice. Cheer was an entire period unto itself just like a regular class. “Rhys better keep this meeting short. I’m tired of talking about pep rallies. They get exhausting when you have to perform at every one of ‘em instead of just kicking back in the stands like you lazy lot do.”

She was making a joke, that much was clear. Her smile was bright and clear as always, but when Cassian didn’t say anything and she took in my sullen mood, the redness of my eyes, her curiosity spiked. “Am I missing something, or-”

“Everything’s fine,” I said totally on autopilot. “How was cheer?”

She was still skeptical, but with a fake smile plastered all over my face and an encouraging nod, she was forced to answer my question.

The meeting itself passed in a blur. Rhys really did keep it short and I took the first opportunity to leave when it was over and bolted. He’d been eyeing me worriedly too many times and I kept thinking about what Tamlin had mentioned - how Rhys had somehow hurt him and his sister. I didn’t even know he had a sister.

I’d hardly looked at Rhys or said more than was absolutely necessary. Mor was asking if she could have a word with him when I was halfway out the door.

I stewed for the remainder of the afternoon unable to shake off the memory of Tamlin slamming the door shut in front of me. Tamlin getting in my face and yelling so harshly at me. Tamlin losing his temper so much that it frightened me what he might do standing so close.

Homework went forgotten. I ignored dad when he called up the stairs to my room in the attic that he’d made dinner. I wasn’t hungry. Food just didn’t seem… important.

I nestled in the corner of my room hugging my knees to my chest. The walls were still blank and the thought of painting them as I’d wanted to was now unbearable.

This wasn’t right. I wasn’t right.

I was breaking - maybe even already broken beyond repair.

But I had to try.

By the time I got to Ianthe’s, I could barely drive. I probably should have called someone. Her front yard was a mess of parked cars. The entire Newspaper staff was likely invited and from the sounds of celebration going on inside, it seemed she had already announced her co-editors.

No one answered my knock on the door, so I let myself in. People milled about everywhere and while it wasn’t a booming sound, music played distantly in the background.

Lucien sat on one of the couches with a cup in his hand. He was laughing - the happiest I’d seen him in weeks - chatting amiably with a brunette when he looked over and spotted me. His face went still as death and I recognized the look. I’d worn it too many times myself.

Fear.

I scanned the room and reached the conclusion at the same time Lucien saw it dawn on my face. He shot up in a hurry, but I moved down the hall.

There were too many doors. Ianthe’s house wasn’t multi-storied like most of the upper class mansions in this ridiculous city, but the layout of her lone floor stretched on forever. I could hear Lucien shouting after me.

The first two rooms were empty and the third was a bathroom, but on the fourth I struck gold.

“Feyre, don’t!”

I swung the door open into the dimly lit room. It was too dark for me to see properly, but my other senses took over. I could smell them together - scented the sweat collecting between them. I could feel it too. That tension between them as they moved? It was palpable.

Worst of all perhaps, I could hear it. The sound of skin on skin. The smack of lips sucking and nipping to tease and delight. The crinkle of sheets tangling between their legs.

The groan emanating from Ianthe’s lips as he pressed into her…

My body started shaking. I fumbled against the wall looking for the switch. Lucien collided into me with a whispered admonishment, but the force of him knocked me further and I found the light.

Tamlin and Ianthe were nothing like I’d imagined in the five seconds I’d stood in the dark. They were a million times worse. In the moments between the lights coming on and the realization dawning on Tamlin as Ianthe writhed beneath him, I saw her face - saw how her mouth parted and her eyes squeezed shut with delight and it wrecked me.

Rage replaced the guilt and grief that had ushered me over.

“Feyre,” Tamlin said, all movement ceasing. We stared at each other and I was vaguely aware of the party coming to a standstill behind me. The world was so silent when it came to a standstill. Tamlin’s lips trembled, his chest heaved. He looked down at Ianthe who was clutching the muscles of his arms.

He moved to get off the bed and I stepped back. “Fey?”

My blood boiled. I never wanted to hear my name like that from him again. “Congratulations,” I said keeping a tight leash on my self-control. “I see you got the job. I’m glad all the hours were worth it.”

“Feyre, please.”

“No.” My muscles shook, but I wouldn’t give myself away - not yet. “We’re through.”

“Feyre.”

The sheets pooled at his feet as he stepped off the bed. “We’re through.” I slammed the door in his face - an eye for an eye.

I’d forgotten about Lucien, didn’t even hear him running after me until he had to physically stop me and turn me around outside my car and I shoved him roughly. He looked horrible and I didn’t care.

“Did you know?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from him. “Did you know?” I asked a second time. Lucien closed his mouth and I could see his throat clench as he swallowed his anxiety.

“Yes, Feyre. I knew.”

And it all made sense. All those weeks over summer of fighting and biting comments building between the two of them, Lucien’s warning me about Tamlin after Rhys offered me a spot on SBC, the way he and Tamlin barely seemed like friends anymore. Shit, even the night I went to Lucien’s party and he insisted on finding Tamlin himself. Was that because he’d been with her even then?

Tamlin was never obsessed with making co-editor or maybe he was, but it was only one small part of it. He’d been sleeping with her all along.

Was I to assume every late night he blew me off was so he could go and see her instead? Was every staff meeting just an excuse to cozy up to her more? Did he love her?

I decided I didn’t want to know. Lucien froze my car door as I opened it and I snapped at him, “Don’t you dare!” He stumbled back. I’d never yelled at him before. Not once.

“Feyre,” he pleaded, his voice dry. “What did you expect?”

“I expected you to tell me, Lucien! And if you think shooting him dirty glares and giving me cryptic messages about talking to him counts, you’re insane. I mean, for goodness sake, I knew you didn’t particularly care for me, but I thought we were better friends than this.”

“We were - we are. I only-”

“Don’t. Don’t even try to justify it. We’re done. I just want to go home.”

But as I drove away trying not to look at Lucien’s miserable face, I realized this was an outright lie. The further I got from Ianthe’s house, the more the picture of her naked pressed up against Tamlin burned into my mind. The more the tears came fast and hot on my cheeks, burning my eyes as they went.

I felt everything.

I felt the way Tamlin had looked at me like he knew he should be sorry, but he wasn’t.

I felt the way Lucien had startled off the couch, panicked I would discover the truth the I deserved to know.

I felt the way Nesta had thrown the horrible reality of my dad’s situation in my face.

I felt the way every bottle he drank drained me of a little more light.

I felt the way mom yelled at me to get out of her way as she closed the door - said the sight of me with dad made her sick.

I felt how truly alone I’d been for months turning away the only good company offered and clinging to all the bad.

I was in a hole hanging on to the last roots of the earth dug into the sides, dirt caking underneath my fingernails and making me feel dirty for clinging on. If I stepped down any further, there would be no climbing out. I would disappear forever and it terrified me.

The only thing that terrified me more was the idea that I wanted to disappear and never return. That epiphany of understanding just how insignificant I was in the universe threatened to crush me. As I drove, I wondered what it would be like if I took my hands off the wheel and just drifted on, let come what may.

Only important people with purpose in their lives were meant to stay, right?

Somehow, I made it to his house in one piece. I rang the doorbell and waited.

Rhys opened the door and his face shattered.

“I need help,” I said.

And then the dam inside me broke open wide and unabated.

#myfic #beneath the stars #beneath the stars: a feysand fic #bts #feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre #rhysand #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction

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yourfaveswouldloveyou · 6 years

Text

Fourth Wheel

“What do we need another human for, I ask?” Alis muttered.

I didn’t have time to argue. Tamlin had already left to investigate the trespasser who had been found wandering his lands—a mortal trespasser. Even if it was only one of the deranged Children of the Blessed, I needed to see another human face. Not the silent illusion of the puca this time, but a real person. I ignored Alis’s complaints and treaded toward the dining room—quietly, in case Tamlin was moving slower than I had guessed.

My instincts served me well, and by the time I came into the main hall, the door was just closing. I padded as quickly as I dared down the staircase and came just close enough to the door to hear the conversation inside. If nothing else, my time here had polished my eavesdropping skills.

“Now,” Lucien drawled. He had been on patrol today—I remembered that fact just in time to feel a sort of pity for whoever he had found. "Please tell Tamlin exactly what you told me.“

There was a hum too high to be either Tamlin or Lucien. Then the wayward human said, "I’m looking for a big wolf guy.”

I froze. Don’t trust your senses. But even if there were a faerie that could mimic voices, it wouldn’t be able to fool a High Lord. Which meant… I knew that voice.

“You can’t miss him,” the voice continued. "He would have passed through here… two months ago.“

"A little far-fetched, isn’t it?” Lucien’s voice sparkled with barely contained laughter. "What makes you think we’ve seen him?“

"You were on border patrol, weren’t you?” she retorted coolly.

“Lucien,” Tamlin cut in firmly. I could see every curve of his impatient frown in my mind, pulling tight beneath the mask. Lucien’s quiet laughter fizzled out. "What would you want with him?“

I held my breath. After a moment, she admitted, "He had someone with him.”

She knew. Somehow she knew. Even more unbelievable was the fact that despite having never been any kind of hunter or tracker, she had found a way through the wall and come looking for me. I had seen the things that wandered the edges of Tamlin’s lands, the consequences of the blight. She should never have made it.

The uncertain silence shattered when Lucien began, “And I so wish we could help you, but—”

I wrenched open the door and burst inside.

Lucien’s jaw tightened at the sight of me, and my entrance startled Tamlin half out of his chair, but it was Elizabeth I was focused on.

She looked the same as I remembered, aside from being a worse for wear. Her hair was a little darker than mine, her complexion a little ruddier, her frame worlds thicker, but overall the resemblance was close enough that many people in our village had assumed that she was part of our family—a cousin, or perhaps the oldest of the sisters. She had never discouraged that impression, not the way she looked after us and somehow managed to show equal fondness to Nesta, Elain, and me despite our differences. And while I didn’t believe my father would have ever made the perilous journey to come to my rescue, here she was.

Elizabeth gaped at me. "Feyre,“ she said, breath going out in a single rush, and she pulled me into a tight hug. "Are you okay?”

There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask her. How had she known to come after me? How had she gotten here? I had seen a travel sack, but nothing else—why wasn’t she armed?

She stopped squeezing me long enough to peer at me, concern narrowing her eyes. "Feyre?“

"I’m fine,” I replied automatically. I didn’t complain when she kept a hand on my shoulder, as if to reassure herself I was still there.

Lucien cleared his throat delicately, his attention on Tamlin. "You did remember to glamour them, didn’t you?“

Tamlin snorted violently, and his friend spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "She wasn’t there,” he said shortly. He fixed his green gaze on Elizabeth, a dangerous intensity in his eyes.

“I was close enough,” she told him. "I saw the end result, anyway. What did you do to the others? What happened to them?“

Lucien folded his arms. "Don’t worry; you won’t have to wonder for long.”

Tamlin’s glare didn’t waver. The line of his shoulders made me want to pull Elizabeth back. "First, I want to know how you got this far into my lands.“

She glanced at me, and I nodded once. With a shrug, she answered, "The Children of the Blessed know a way through. It took a long time to get it from them, though.”

“I think he’s asking how you got through miles of forest without being unceremoniously eaten,” Lucien pointed out wryly.

“I minded my own business and spoke politely to anything strange.”

“You were civil when I found you, too.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose in her terrible attempt at a straight face. "That’s what I just said.“

The corner of Lucien’s mouth twitched.

"It seems like we could work something out,” she put in, her grip on my shoulder tightening.

Tamlin straightened slowly. "No,“ he said gruffly—but not, as I knew from months of listening to his voice, unkindly.

Elizabeth released me and shifted to stand solidly between me and both high fae. "I came for Feyre,” she explained, shoulders squaring. "Since there’s a giant wolf thing somewhere in the mix, I really don’t want to fight you over it. But I will.“ She took a deep breath. "But surely we can work something out.”

Even if it was boldness born of ignorance—she hadn’t faced death the way I had, and she had never seen how easily the fae dealt it out—it sounded impressive.

Tamlin shook his head. "It can’t be done. This is the best I could do given the terms of the Treaty. Feyre is safest here.“

"I’d like to read this treaty, please,” Elizabeth shot back.

I put a hand on her arm. "It’s fine,“ I said quietly. I wanted to explain, but there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t sound insane to her—and nothing I was ready to say aloud in front of Tamlin. "It’s…” The words refused to come together.

She turned to watch me carefully. "Do you want to stay here?“ she asked me. There was no reproach in her tone; she was looking to me for her cue. Defensive angles lingered in her stance.

I hesitated, glancing at Tamlin.

She took that as answer enough. *

In the end, Elizabeth remained because she was unconvinced—just as I had been in my first several weeks here. Before Tamlin saved my life. Watching her, I saw our differences stand out starkly, opposing colors. Where I had roamed the halls and grounds to determine my escape plan, she holed up in a study and devoured every book she could find, scanning easily over the words in a way I would never manage. I had found my sanctuary in the gallery; she walked the gardens to relax. I had eavesdropped and insinuated to dig out information—and still did. She spoke pleasantly to whoever she came across and asked them outright whatever she wanted to know.

After so much time in a strange world, it was unsettling to encounter a familiar face. For the first two days, seeing her was a shock, the kind that normally woke me in the middle of a dream. Tamlin was a curt but tolerant host. I was ashamed at the relief I felt when I realized how much he preferred my company to hers. Elizabeth came with fewer thorns.

That didn’t stop Lucien from being prickly about her presence. He sighed testily one evening when he came into the dining room and there were four places set. "When did we start running a boarding house?” he grumbled as he landed haphazardly in his chair.

“She’s Feyre’s friend,” Tamlin reminded him shortly. Usually Lucien was the one using that vaguely reprimanding tone on Tamlin, not the other way around.

“You can’t just send her home after everything she went through to get here,” I told Lucien hotly.

“It’s hardly our fault she’s not a strategist.” He flipped a butter knife between his thumb and forefinger. "No horse, no ash—and then, of course, she was going to fight us empty-handed. That would have been a short and useless show of heroism.“

"She’s not the only one to have done something brash for a friend,” Tamlin said softly into his goblet.

Lucien’s jaw clamped shut. He jammed the knife into his roast chicken and began eating with dogged intent.

Elizabeth came in a few minutes later, pink with exertion and smelling of the spring air. She plopped down gratefully in front of her full plate of food. "Feyre,“ she began, and hesitated, glancing at Tamlin. "Same question as usual.”

For the three days she had been here, Elizabeth had been asking me one question. The answer—once I finally gave it—was always the same. I nodded yes resolutely.

She nodded back and mulled that over along with a huge mouthful of potatoes. “So?” I prompted.

Her smile told me her answer. When she finally spoke, she addressed the two high fae. "I’ve been searching high and low for any evidence that you’re actually human-snatching fiends who can’t be trusted, but I can’t find any,“ she announced. "So as long as Feyre’s all right…” She shot me an encouraging smile. "I can’t complain.“

Tamlin gave Lucien a meaningful look. Lucien shrugged minutely. "We’re so grateful we have your blessing,” he said with sardonic diplomacy.

“You are welcome,” she returned graciously.

It was good news. But still I picked at the edge of the table. I felt Tamlin’s gaze on me but refused to meet it. "What now?“ I asked her.

Elizabeth set down her fork and shook her head. "You’ll be all right here. And your sisters will definitely be all right.” She offered a tired but teasing smile. "It seems I’m all out of people to take care of. So I have no idea.“

I felt a painful echo of the exact same feeling.

"For now,” she decided brightly, “I’m going to eat this delicious chicken.”

I tapped my fork against my plate, brow furrowing. My eyes slid to Tamlin. He watched me seriously, green eyes swirling with thoughts I wished I could read. His gaze flickered toward Elizabeth and he inclined his head.

I recalled something Alis had said once and bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile. "You know,“ I murmured, stirring my potatoes around, "someone needs to keep an eye on Lucien.”

When I looked over to gauge her reaction, Elizabeth’s eyes were gleaming playfully. "Do they, now?“

Lucien pulled such an affronted face that I had to stifle another smile. Tamlin’s smirk said plainly that it was no use appealing to him. Elizabeth was the first to start laughing, and once she started it was hard to stop.

I felt down to my bones the truth of what I’d told her—of the answer I’d given her over and over again until she was satisfied.

Are you happy here?

Yes.

#otp: Elucien #fandom: ACoTaR #Elizabeth

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