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#high lords of prythian
illyrian-dreamer · 5 months
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Our girl – Part 6
Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst
Word count: 5k
Warnings: Violence, character death
<<< Part 5
“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile. 
You swallowed as you entered the decadent marble room, the binder under your arm almost bursting with hundreds of papers of research you collated.
Several powerful sets of eyes fell on you, and you forced your own forward, fighting the instinct to cast them low in respect. You were doing this for Prythian, for all fae – they should feel honoured for the opportunity, not you.
With smiles from Tarquin and Tamlin, you took the seat Thesan withdrew for you – the tall, regal shape foreign as it pressed to your back.
Rhysand and Feyre sat opposite, their eyes warm beneath their gaze. But you were too preoccupied to meet it.
“And since when are we in the business of inviting commoners to these meetings? I won't share my table with court-crossing whores.”
You let out a tired breath, your patience for the male ego completely diminished over the past years. 
“I suppose you’ve excused that every time one of your sons has sat for these meetings, Beron?” 
The words had left your mouth before you could stop them. 
Beron’s eyes widened, his face flushing red, and a few snorts and stifled laughs could be heard across the table. 
Fuck – you could kiss Autumn’s allegiance goodbye. You would have to be a lot less impulsive if you were to make it out of this meeting alive.
"I will not–" Beron began, his hands curling into fists.
“Oh calm yourself Beron, you had no right to insult her in the first place.” Tarquin was grinning at you – ever the loyal friend. You gave him a tight smile to say thanks. 
“And if you’re wondering who invited her here, you can steer your anger towards me,” Tamlin spoke smoothly, intertwining his fingers as he placed his solid arms on the table, meeting Beron’s glare with confidence.
“I for one, would like to hear what Y/N has to say,” Feyre added, with a confident nod to you.
It seemed you had an alliance at play all along.  
With clear of your throat, you opened your binder, rolling out a detailed map of Prythian and with it months of research on each of the courts. You took a breath, and began the proposal you and your team had spent weeks perfecting. 
“You may have heard of aid work spreading across Spring in light of the aftermath of the war. My team and I have worked tirelessly to support vulnerable communities across the court, providing food, medicine and shelter for those devastated by Hybern.”
“Spring Court only suffered devastation because of its alliance with Hybern in the first place,” Kallias interrupted, followed by a murmur of agreements.
Tamlin straightened. “I acknowledge my court was left at Hybern's mercy due to my decisions. But Y/N has worked despite of that – and it’s what makes her work so important.”
“In what way?” Thesan asked. 
“A courtless ambition,” you affirmed. “A team of volunteers – made from all courts, for all courts. Resources provided from across Prythian, shared equally to help those in need despite what throne they serve.”
There was a moment of silence, before Beron sounded a loud snort. 
“Don't trust her for one second,” he scoffed, pointing a finger at you. “She’s been hauled up in Spring Court for over a year now. No doubt this is a ruse to have us open our borders. She’ll be free to rob our people and lands, all the while fucking her handsome High Lord.”
“Watch how you speak of her,” Rhysand growled, night crawling across the table, the purple in his eyes all but gone. 
You had to interject before this meeting finished as quickly as it started. “I assure you, this mission has no binding to Spring Court. It is to exist without borders so we may help anyone in need, and travel with ease to provide urgent care.”
Beron ignored Rhysand and instead cold eyes to you, his lips curling with distaste. “And you believe we need your help?” he spat. “The fae of Spring are weak. My subjects are well cared for, and my court is thriving.”
Gods, you could see where Eris got it from.
“According to my research, inflation in your court is a second close to Spring, and displacement is rising with little access to healers after you centralised them during the war.”
Beron’s face flushed an even deeper red than before, his eyes turning to a murderous cold and your stomach twisted with both fear and delight. 
“There is not one court here that is in a position to refuse this kind of offer,” Tarquin said with sweeping calm, silencing Beron before he could bubble over. “We would do well to not let our pride stop an ambition of this size.”
“Y/N,” he added, turning to you. “I admire the work you have done in Spring, Tamlin has testified and frankly sung much high praise. If you might show me your plans of what role Summer Court could play in your mission, I would be happy to come to an agreement to provide volunteers and resources.”
You swallowed, your heart swelling. You had no doubt Tarquin would offer his allegiance, but it was a milestone all the same. “Thank you, Tarquin.”
“My mate and I would like to offer the allegiance of the Night Court. We would be honoured for your help,” Feyre’s face strong and stern, but you knew them well enough to feel the waves of pride from both her and Rhys. 
“Consider Day Court an ally too,” Hellion beamed, trusting of Feyre’s alliance to now make his own. “We have some of the oldest practicing healers – if you can help spread their knowledge across our lands, it will help us to grow stronger as a continent, and perhaps more resistant should we face another invasion in future.” 
“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head gratefully to the High Lords and Lady around you. 
“You’re all fools,” Beron spat, pushing up from his chair. “And I won't stand to watch you place the fate of our lands in the hands of a traitor, let alone a woman.”
A series of snarls sounded as claws of all kinds shot out. Tamlin’s hands shook as he gripped the tables edge, Tarquin’s scraped at his chair, and Rhys’s tapped with threatening impatience. 
“Your mind betrays you, Beron,” Feyre spoke coldly, a cruel smile at play on her lips. “Because despite countless centuries in this world, you and your seven sons couldn't hope to accomplish as much as this female has in just a few years. You’re embarrassed. You feel she emasculates you.”
You didn't have a moment to gawk before Beron launched at you, his fist in your hair as he ripped you backwards in your chair. Droplets of his disgusting spit landing their mark as he snarled down at you. “You mark my words you sly bitch. You may have everyone wrapped around you finger, but step one foot in my court and I’ll–”
Guards had pulled Beron from you before he could finish his sentence. They hardly had to escort him as he shook their grip, storming from the room and slamming the doors behind him. 
With red cheeks and a slight shake of your hands, you took Tarquins offer to help you stand.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
You offered a single nod, too stunned to know truly. Was this how the High Lords settled business?
You straightened your skirts and took your seat once again.
“I do hate it when he gets like that,” Tarquin said more loudly, feigning a bored sigh and hiding a comforting hand on your thigh beneath the table.
“For your knowledge Y/N, there are rules that we must not to lay hands on another High Lord or Lady, not without consequence. I suppose that’s why he launched at you,” Thesan explained, willing a glass of water in front of you and giving you a sorry smile.
You took a shaky sip, barely having a moment to register the silent exchange between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhys. Whatever their stern expressions meant, you knew Beron was in deep, deep shit. 
The rest of the meeting went smoothly – you convinced Thesan and Kallias to consider your proposal, and agreed to meet with them in future after they took some time to study your plans in more detail. In total you had four courts agree, two remained uncertain, and one definite no. It was overwhelming result, and you were riddled with both excitement and anxiousness at the thought of expanding your mission to not just one, but three new courts.
As the meeting adjourned, you found yourself thinking of Eris, and couldn't help but feel empathetic. You may have an unwelcome bond binding you to the two males who broke your heart, but at least your future wasn't dictated by someone as hideous as Beron. Eris would never be that free.
You spent your evening writing to the other volunteers and your uncle, and preparing plans and strategies to begin work in Summer. It would be beneficial to start there, to have more experienced healers on board. 
There was a soft rap at your door, and Feyre’s blossom-like scent floated through the gaps. 
Quill now mid-air, your heart fastened with momentary worry. But you took a breath - it was just a conversation, you could grant her that. After all, there were many more meetings with her and Rhys to come if you hoped to expand to the Nigh Court successfully. You'd also likely need to return to the Night Court yourself…
Stopping your spiral of thoughts, you cleared your throat. “Come in,” you called, placing your quill down and turning in your seat. 
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No no. Please, come in,” you gestured.
She strode with confidence, dark drapes of her dress flowing behind as they sparkled like the Velarian sky you hadn't realised you longed for. “I won't stay long, I just wanted to tell you that you were incredible today.” Those grey eyes pinned you with sincerity, before fluttering with a sideways glance.  “And perhaps I’m also here to see how you’re fairing after the meeting. I’m sorry, I didn't think Beron…"
You huffed humorously, your head cocking down as you let out sound of exasperation. “Gods, he truly is as awful as they say.”
“Yes,” Feyre said with a stifled grin, her head shaking. “He really is.”
“Thank you, for defending me. Your response to him… it was–"
“Too much, probably.”
“Insidiously epic.” You were grinning.
Feyre laughed now, swinging one leg over the other before fingering a nearby trinket. “You know I can't resist the opportunity to toy with a male like that.”
You matched her smile, warmed by the mischievous look. The exchange was genuine and comfortable, fun even – exactly how your friendship had been for so many years.
“Thank you for coming to see me, Feyre.”
Feyre’s eyes softened, a small but sad smile finding her lips. “Of course.”
You looked at your hands then, fidgeting with them in your lap. You had to ask, you just had to. 
“How are they?”
Feyre didn't falter. “Well enough. Cassian has been training a new generation of Illyrians to regrow our army, and Azriel has been busy with his work in Hybern.”
Your eyes were distant as you thought about them, separated by work. Azriel was still undertaking missions in Hybern? Was there truly more secrets to unravel there? Gods, the thought alone made you wince in pain, that whole damned continent a waking reminder of Meryl and everything you had lost. You knew Azriel would be tortured by the same cycle of thoughts on those lands.
“They work hard,” you offered with pulled brows, not really knowing what else to say. 
“Just like someone else I know.” Feyre’s pained smile soft yet full of suggestion. She might as well have said it – they’re not the only ones burying their pain in work. You supposed she was right, you had set a stellar example at that.
“But they’re doing better, really,” she added, resuming natural movement and surrendering you from her gaze. “They’re healthier, and they look after one another.” 
Your lips pulled into a small smile. “I’m glad.” And you meant it. 
Feyre had matured over the past year – you could see it in her poise, hear it in her voice. It was a nice thing to see, to watch a fellow immortal grow in such ways.
“I will leave you to your planning.” She stood then, her incredible dress sweeping the floor once more.
Pausing by the doorway, Feyre turned to you. “Rhys and I are so honoured to have your work come to our court, even with the challenges to be faced with the Council. You should be proud, Y/N. We certainly are.”
You nodded, your lips pulling in a smile that twitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. I’ll send a letter to meet soon, and we can discuss plans then.”
“We look forward to it.” Feyre’s smile was warm and true.
“As do I.” And so was your own.
————
“Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait a few more days? We could journey back together.”
You rolled your eyes, securing your bag to Podie as Tamlin fussed behind you, tightening the knots. 
“I must get back and help the team start the expansion. I don't have a few days to spare.”
“I know, I just… worry for you.”
You snorted then, hauling yourself to your horse. “I journeyed here myself, you know.”
Tamlin sighed, reaching to stroke Podie’s mane. “I know. I just, I’m not sure, I have a feeling–“
“You’re fussing.”
“No, I have a feeling.”
“A feeling of fussing?”
Tamlin pinched his nose then. “I don't know why I try,” he muttered. 
You grinned. “I’ll see you in two weeks time, Tam.” With a gentle nudge to Podie’s sides, you started the long journey home.
Never mind that Tamlin had found you shortly after Feyre left your room last night. Never mind that he searched you over for any signs of injury that Beron might have left, or that he distracted you jokes and conversation and stiff drink on your balcony that lead to welcomed sleep. You would certainly not think about the way his deep hushed voice soothed you until your eyes closed, or that he knew exactly how to stroke your hair as he comforted you after the things Beron had said, long after you had stopped responding. 
When you had woken he was gone, so this time apart would serve you well to clear your head and re-establish those murky lines of love and friendship, desire and lust. 
“Take safe routes,” he called out, waving you off as the castle of Dawn Court disappeared behind the trees.
You forced yourself not to look back. 
————
The journey from Dawn to Spring would take six days of travel. With no ability to winnow or fly, it was a pace you were not accustomed to. 
But you would bare it with higher spirits than ever, because you got what you came for, what you’d wanted your entire life. You were making the world a better place, and only just getting started. 
Forgoing the coastal scenery you had indulged in on your journey up, you chose a route close to the inner border with Autumn, avoiding the congestion of the capital and heading through the most direct route. By your third morning you had already reached Summer, forgoing rest and carving your journey time to start your eager plans once home.
As the sun began to set that evening, Podie began fussing with fatigue. 
“I know boy, I know,” you soothed, patting at his neck. “We’re almost there.” 
And sure enough, the bustle of the town you had marked on your map sounded in the distance, smoke trails rising above the tree tops as signs of life revealed themselves. You had marked this town for its inn, where both you and Podie could rest properly for the night.
But rest would have to wait, as your ears pricked at a young voice. Turning, you saw wild auburn hair on a thin and ashy body, large eyes pleading to whoever walked past. 
“Please, ma’am, sir, someone help!”
But the other fae continued to look past her, offering mumbled apologies and averting their gaze. Disheartened, you tutted under your breath. The child was from Autumn, that much was clear, and you knew the other fae ignored her for it. This was exactly the kind of mentality you were trying to amend.
Having just secured Podie’s reigns at the stables next to the inn, you wiped your hands on your pants, approaching the girl. “What’s wrong youngling?”
The little girl all but crumpled. “Please, my mother, she-she can’t, I don’t-"
Crouching down, you soothed the young girl with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Is she unwell?”
Dirty hands rubbed the tears spilling from her eyes, and a nod was all she could offer. 
Your eyes flicked to your satchel still strung on Podie. There were vessels of Geranium in there, samples you had shown to the High Lords. 
“Can she walk?”
The little girl trembled, locks bouncing as she shook her head. Gods, those locks, so similar to Meryl's…
A fresh batch of tears poured from her eyes then, as she pointed behind her. “There are no healers in our town. I didn't know where to go!”
“It’ll be alright, I have some medicine in my bag. Can you take me to her?”
She girl’s lip quivered. “But it’s over the border,” she whispered.
You gave her a sorry smile. “I thought as much. Never mind, let me grab my bag, and you lead the way.”
Fuck Beron – fuck his senseless borders and militant court. Someone was in need of healing, so you would help them, plain and simple.
The girl was still thanking you by the time you returned with your satchel. You hoped you had enough Geranium to heal her mother to to a capacity until a trained healer could see to her. 
The young thing all but sprinted, and you maintained a steady jog to the Autumn border. Green blended with red here, the breeze already cooler as dried leaves danced with live ones. 
“My town is down this trail,” she pointed to a winding path. “It’s not far.”
You nodded, taking your first step in Autumn without a second thought. And when you reached the winding path, where the trees now hid the backs of Summer Court and the life that called there, the girl stopped in her path, turning with an eery slowness. 
You jumped back at the white film that now filled her eyes, her mouth downturned and sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head lolling sideways. 
You hadn’t a moment to process the horror of it before hands pinned your arms and smothered your mouth. 
Fumes swarmed your senses, burning your nose and throat before you were overcome with poisonous haze, your cry swallowed in cloth as the world turned black. 
————
Rhysand handed the last of his bags to the door man, giving his guest room at Dawn one final sweep. 
Feyre had left a few days earlier to be with Nyx, but many of the High Lords had stayed to use the mutual meeting grounds and have much needed discussions after the war. But his business was done and he would finally return home, his heart aching for Velaris. 
Even his brothers would be there this time, having returned from their own missions. He was eager to unwind and be surrounded by the laughter and company of his family together again. Well, almost all of them. 
Tamlin’s scent pricked his nose, and Rhys resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the complicated and bloody history they shared, forcing himself to be civil with Tamlin would always draining, and right now he just wanted to get home. 
Night magic flung the doors open, revealing the distraught High Lord, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a letter. 
“Whatever can I do you for, Tamlin?” Rhys mused, before finally turning to face him. With one look at his expression, he flicked his eyes to the letter in Tamlin's hand, his stomach sinking immediately.
“What’s happened?” Rhys asked quickly. 
“Y/N – she was due back in Spring three days ago. Her uncle has written to say she hasn't come home.”
Rhys could feel the violet draining from his eyes. “Perhaps she took a few more days to herself?”
“She wouldn't do that.” Tamlin said firmly. 
Rhys nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line as worry brewed even further. He was right.
“There’s more.” 
Rhys quirked his brow. 
“Podie was found stranded at an inn in Summer, east of the capital.” 
“Podie? Who-"
“Her horse Rhysand! They found her damned horse, left there for days!”
Rhys swallowed, his mind narrowing to a steely focus – the way it did before battle. 
“You said east?”
Tamlin swallowed thickly, a knowing worry pulling at his features as he nodded. “Just shy of the border.”
Black flooded the little violet left in Rhys’s eyes. “Fuck.”
Tamlin stalked towards Rhys, forcing the letter into his hand. “Call for her mates, immediately.” 
But Rhys already was, his mind screaming out to his brothers, to Feyre, to anyone who could find her first. 
“Is it done?” Tamlin asked, green eyes desperately scanning the lucid male in front of him. 
Rhys was quiet for a moment, before sucking in a sharp sudden breath. He faltered then, grasping the bed post with a wince as his magic recoiled within. 
Because somewhere in Velaris, across the mountains and seas and stretch of land the separated y/n from her mates, a panic so deep and rage so violent consumed any magic in reach, even the most powerful High Lords. 
Rhys wasn't there to witness Cassian and Azriel’s siphons shattering, to see the way red and blue power - now freed from their bounds - instead consumed them, filling their veins and pulsing against muscle. 
Rhys nodded once at Tamlin, confirming what they both knew.
There would be a war to retrieve Y/N alive. And Beron was as good as dead.  
————
Beron took a leather parcel from the last of his guards, before ushering him from your cell. 
You had been here for days – or so you thought. Time was a difficult thing to grasp in your haze, and there was no light here. It was quite too, the only sound of dripping dampness, and the occasional screams and pleas from a women. That voice was so far away, you weren’t certain it was real, or that it wasn't your own. 
Beron had visited you the day you were taken, his dark eyes glowing with hideous intent at the sight of you bound in his dungeon. He hadn’t said much, only promising with sickening glee that he’d be back soon. 
You half expected him to beat you, to hurt and punish you for humiliating him at the High lords meeting. Gods, you even anticipated death. But the High Lord kept you hydrated and healthy enough, all be it drugged and weak. Which meant a different fate awaited you, perhaps one worse than you could imagine.
You cursed at the sight of the weapon he unfurled from the leather pouch. It was a rapier of kinds – too large to be a knife, too small to be an ordinary sword. But it was the ungodly glow of the thing - the churning ribbons of deadly silver turning in on itself - that terrified you most. 
“What is that?” you panted, your eyes wide as Beron’s grin grew. 
“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to find such a tool, Y/N.” He angled it this way and that, eyes glowing with admiration as silver danced in them. “The terrible things I had to do to have this made, to even hold it in my bare hands.”
It was pointless to press further into the metal slab you were bound to, cuffs digging at your ankles and wrists as you reopened the same wounds you had fought against for days.
Beron was drawing closer, the rest of the room darkening as the rapier glowed so bright, commanding your attention. The air grew colder, as if those lethal ribbons were consuming the warmth for itself.
“I think we’re alike, you and I.” Beron eyed you with a sickly smile before he began to pace, moving his sword with him.
Your chest heaved with panic, your eyes trailing him as you begged for anyone to find you. Your mates, that tether, perhaps they would hear you? But the bond had weakened since left unacknowledged, and as you fished for it within you could feel how it had thinned.  
“I don't like having my things taken from me, Y/N. And I’m certain you don't either. That’s why you were alone, wasn’t it? Without your mates, hm? They took something of yours, and you didn't like it one bit.”
Your eyes snapped to Beron the moment he mentioned them. Fuck. Fuck. Eris, that kniving worm, had told him exactly what he needed to know.
“I’ve had something of mine taken from me over and over again for almost a century. The one thing that was promised to me – sworn to me by oath, bound to me by a ring.”
What nonsense was he spitting? Unless… oh gods.
“You see there’s a particular High Lord who seems to think he can help himself to what is mine. And apparently, my whore of a wife agrees.”
The Lady of Autumn. What Feyre had shared with you about Lucien, about his mother and Helion – it was all true. And Beron knew.
You gulped, your stomach churning as you forced your voice past the strain in your throat. “What in gods name does that have to do with me, you twisted senseless fuck.”
Fear seeped from you, and you knew he could scent it. 
Beron chuckled, shaking his head before crazed eyes found yours. “Do you know what my wife said to me when I confronted her, Y/N? Do you know what she claimed, what she threw in my face, after centuries of marriage, of sharing my home and my court and six fucking sons?”
You were wise enough not to answer. 
Beron shifted, easing back into lethal calm. “She tells me of a bond. Bound by the cauldron, she claims. She says that she’s sorry, to please not hurt her, to please not hurt him. And then she begs me to let her go.”
Bile rose to your throat. “What have you done to her?” you gritted, fighting against your cuffs once more. “Have you- did you-”
“Kill her?” Beron finished, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Of course not. I am no monster.” He paused then, halting his pace. “I love her.”
It was almost convincing. 
“But so began my journey, sweet Y/N, to help my dear wife from her delusions. I keep her here, a few cells over. She’s very eager to receive her treatment and rejoin the throne again as my loyal wife.”
You had to blink through your nausea. The begging, those screams – they were real. It was her.
“By no means was it an easy task to find a tool like this – something so magnificent, crafted straight from death itself. But I do it for her.”
Your stomach dropped. He had harnessed death itself? This was beyond insidious - Beron had been driven insane by his jealousy.
Beron’s eyes flicked from the weapon to you, noting the way you stiffened.
“Ah yes, death. Not an easy thing to befriend, certainly not an easy thing to yield. It took a life to harness it’s power, life from my very own family.” 
Beron’s words were becoming harder to hear as your heart pounded in your ears. And then it clicked, and you could have sworn that time stood still as his words played in your head. He had mentioned six sons, not seven.
You had not known a fear like the one you felt now, a sickening tremble overtaking as you knew what he would say next.
“Please,” you begged, twisting in your restraints. “Please! Don't say it!”
“Although I suppose Lucien wasn't truly my family, not really.”
A scream ripped from you, your eyes clenched shut as your mind reeled at the horror. Lucien – Tamlin’s friend, Feyre’s friend, your friend too. Killed as a sacrifice for this insidious narcissist he had thought was his father. 
“Oh none of that, Y/N. You act as if I enjoyed it. Lucien was my son in many ways. But a power this great,” he said, casting the sword before his eyes. “Well, it demands an equally great sacrifice.”
Anguished sobs escaped you, tear tracks gleaming from the glow of death before you.
“How could you?” you screamed, writhing against your chains. “He trusted you!”
Beron’s eyes darkened. “It’s as I said,” he growled. “I will not have my things taken from me. For decades I was humiliated and lied to while she slinked from MY COURT to have an affair with another High Lord. Years spent playing me a fool, lying to my face and CLAIMING a SON as my OWN!”
You trembled at the hate in Beron’s voice, walls rumbling as he beheld other-worldly power from the weapon in his hand. You knew his words had hit their mark, and faint wails could be heard outside your cell. The Lady of Autumn could hear it all – Beron was punishing her, forcing her to listen.
He was quiet then, watching you fail to stifle your own sobs.
He moved closer, raising a hand to stroke at your hair. “Shh, shh. Now now, dear Y/N. I may hate you, but I’m a man of reason. I don't believe in spilt blood.”
You jerked under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut and begging to the Mother to not let you die at the hands of this deranged murderer.
“I haven't bought you here to kill you. You’re valuable to me, you see.”
You forced your eyes open. 
“I merely want to break your bond.” 
There was a ringing in your ears as a panic burst through your veins so quickly you felt you would simply combust. 
“And I suppose I don't care should you survive this or not.” Beron said with a shrug, before pointing that ungodly sword at your heart, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped from your chest.
--------
Part 7>>>
A/N: Hi. Hiiiii. Are you... are you ok? Hoping Lucien's death didn't hurt too bad. ❤️  Thank you always for your patience on this chapter, I so hope you liked it (or at least made you feel the feels). I cannot wait to explore feral Cass and Az, and probably Rhys and Feyre and Tamlin too lol Drop a comment or an ask any time, I looooooove hearing your thoughts on the fic, it makes my day each and every time <3 Thank you, and I love you. MWA! ❤️ 
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taylrartz · 1 year
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Felt lonely so here’s a messy little Helion + Lady of Autumn practice🫶
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Rhysand: *pretends to team up with Amarantha, who enslaved all of Prythian and regularly tortures and kills people according to her whims, in order to keep the secret subgroup of his citizens safe that nobody knows about. And later reveals that he was good all along*
Prythian: Wooo! Rhysand rocks!!
Tamlin: *fights against Amarantha and for Prythian for 50 years straight, even lets people that he cares dearly for sacrifice themselves for the cause, which eventually leads to the curse being broken, saving everyone in Prythian from Amarantha. Then he momentarily pretends to team up with Hybern, but reveals that it was a ploy to get intel on Hybern and all of it also served the purpose of keeping all of Prythian safe*
Prythian: Booo!! How are we supposed to trust you now? You seem evil and we believe Rhysand over you!
I’ve got to ask: Why do people think this mess of a plotline makes sense? 😀
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chapter xviii - gust & flame
Eris Vanserra x Reader
Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.
Word Count: 5,000+
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The next week consisted of a new routine. 
Y/N would wake up to breakfast being politely brought into her room – despite insisting she could make her own way into the kitchens and save the servants the hassle.
When she emerged from her chambers, there was always at least two hounds waiting outside for Y/N. They followed her around the property, acting as both her companions and guard dogs. The servants and guards around the Forest House seemed shocked to find their High Lord’s blood hounds being pleasant and loyal to someone other than Eris. But Y/N ignored their stares. 
After breakfast, Y/N would train with the Weapons Master of Autumn Court, who did not take it easy on her just because she was his High Lord’s mate.
Though he did manage to compliment Y/N on the first day for the previous training she clearly had been given. But for some reason, Y/N stopped herself from saying she was a Valkyrie. 
The blood hounds would sit and watch Y/N train. And if she ever got knocked off her feet, they would growl warningly at her assailant. She tried to tell them it was OK, earning her a sad whine from them.
After training, Y/N would go to the main library of the Forest House – because apparently there were nearly a dozen. And there Y/N would research mating bonds, as well as the histories of Autumn Court. 
Y/N had asked Lucien to show the library to her. He had quirked an eyebrow at the question, but asked for no further information. And Y/N made sure to memorize the route so she wouldn’t be forced to expose her new habit to any of the servants. Though Y/N doubted that there were many secrets about her in a royal household. 
It had been just over a week of this routine when breakfast wasn’t delivered to her room.
Y/N was relieved, thinking that the servants had finally listened to her request and realized that she could find her own breakfast in the kitchens. 
But as Y/N opened the room to her bedchambers, she jumped when there was a small female standing in front of her, looking up with an innocent gaze. 
She bowed to Y/N, which felt entirely unnecessary. “Pardon the surprise, Lady Y/N. But Lady Leonora hoped you would join her for breakfast this morning.” Then the servant looked over Y/N's shoulder right before a loud thunder struck. “Since the rain will mean you have no training for today.” 
Y/N blinked. She had been so delighted with the servants not waiting on her hand-and-foot that she hadn’t even noticed it was raining when she woke up. 
Was it really a request from Lady of Autumn? Or was it simply the polite way to tell Y/N to do as she said?
“Right. Yes,” Y/N finally sighed. “You will show me the way?”
“Of course, Lady Y/N.” 
She had to stop herself from wincing at the second use of the incorrect title. 
“You needn’t call me 'Lady',” Y/N told her softly as they walked through the winding halls of the Forest House. “I am of no noble blood. Just Y/N is fine.” 
The servant somehow seemed to expect such a comment and smiled up at her. “But you are the High Lord’s mate. It does not matter where you come from. Even without your connection to our High Lord, you are a hero to most here. Calling you Lady Y/N is the least we could do in return for what you have done for Autumn Court.” 
Y/N was taken aback by her words.
Most run from her when they see or hear of her witchcraft. It made them fear and distrust her. But fae were strange beings; they only ever seem enamored with her gifts. 
They reached the chambers of Lady Autumn much quicker than Y/N would’ve expected. With how close her own rooms were to hers, she was surprised she hadn’t run into her yet. 
The servant gestured to the door, making it clear that she was going to remain in the hall. “She is expecting your arrival. Please.” 
Y/N didn’t understand why she suddenly felt so nervous. 
It was obvious both Eris and Lucien loved their mother dearly – and were utterly protective of her. But that didn’t prepare Y/N for the type of female Leonora actually was.
Perhaps the centuries of being forced into a marriage with Beron had made her cold and brutal. 
But how could such a thing be when Eris and Lucien had both been nothing but kind to her? Surely that kindness came from her. 
When Y/N walked in, Leonora immediately rushed to her with a warm smile. 
“Y/N, thank you for joining me. I am grateful of the rain, otherwise I would never be able to steal you away from your training. Eris says its quite important to you.” 
“T-Thank you for inviting me,” Y/N managed to say. Though it came out almost like a question she was so out of her element. 
“I have wanted to come see you and ask how you were acclimating…but Eris is so worried about you being overwhelmed here. I did not want to add to it.” 
“Oh,” Y/N blurted out. “I mean, you are not overwhelming me at all, Lady Autumn.” 
Leonora tried not to laugh at the title. “Please, none of that. I am Leonora. In fact, I am no longer the Lady of Autumn.” 
“Aren’t you still the dowager Lady of Autumn?” 
Y/N truly didn’t know. If it was the mortal realm and Leonora had once been Queen, she would’ve become the Dowager Queen.
But everything was a bit different in the fae realm. 
Leonora smirked. “If I’m being honest, I don’t really care for titles. I never did. Now, I am simply the mother of the new High Lord.” 
Y/N kept waiting to offend, but Leonora seemed to not take anything too seriously. At least not in this moment. 
Leonora guided Y/N to what appeared to be her own small living room. “Now, Eris said you prefer coffee in the morning, saving tea for nighttime.”
Y/N had to hide her smirk at the idea that Eris talked about her so much to his mother that such a little detail of her personality would get passed to Leonora. 
Then Y/N took in Leonora’s dress. There were no greens or reds or rich browns of the Autumn Court to be seen in her clothes.
No, instead she wore mostly black.
Was she in mourning? Or had this place been her prison for so long that she felt sickened by its uniform? 
Servants came out with a silver trey filled with teacups, a kettle, milk, and sugar. But once they set it down on the coffee table before the two ladies, they disappeared entirely. 
Leonora gave Y/N a sad but considerate look. “Is there something I can do to make you more comfortable, Y/N?”
Her face got hot with embarrassment. “No! No, sorry! I mean, you must e-excuse me. I…I get very…umm…overwhelmed in such settings. I was never taught any sort of…e-etiquette.” 
Leonora immediately knew what Y/N was trying to say and gave her a warm smile before she reached over to place on a hand on hers. “If you ask me, such decorum is a waste of time and effort. Coffee still goes to the same place, no matter how you drink it.” 
As if proving her point, Leonora quickly poured herself her own coffee, purposely making it louder and ruder than a polite Lady would. 
“Y/N, I didn’t bring you here as some test or to interrogate you. I was just…Well, I was only hoping I could get to know you.” 
Suddenly a window flew open, and the wind rushed into the room. It was gentle, not disrupting anything in the room. It simply blew around Y/N’s face, fluttering her hair. 
Y/N finally seemed to relax and allowed herself to believe Leonora’s claims. 
Leonora slowly started to ask her personal questions – nothing controversial, and absolutely nothing even so much has hinting at her mating bond with Eris.
Leonora seemed fascinated by Y/N being a witch and asked many things about her craft and abilities. Not once did she make Y/N feel like some sort of freak or monster. 
It became easier and easier to talk to her. 
Now Y/N didn’t know why she expected Leonora to be so stiff and cold. She was the opposite: welcoming, warm, and understanding. 
A couple hours had gone by of them just chatting, getting to know one another. 
And it had made Y/N feel brave. 
“Why do you stay here?” She whispered softly when they found a moment of silence, watching Leonora’s face carefully. 
Leonora’s brow furrowed with confusion. 
Y/N continued, “Why do you not go to him?”
Leonora nodded slowly, somehow knowing exactly who ‘him’ was. “Eris told me you had a way of knowing things…”
Then she gave her a sad grin. “I fear it is much more complicated than that.” 
“Do you no longer love him?” Y/N’s eyes widened, realizing what she blurted out. “I apologize. I am…not good at keeping to my own business.” 
“I do,” Leonora surprisingly answered. “Love him still, that is.” She frowned and her eyes stared into nothingness as she got lost in her own mind and heart. “But much has happened. There is so much between us. Beron’s death did not just suddenly rid of us of the centuries we spent apart.” 
Y/N gave her a sympathetic look. “He loves you still. It’s so strong that it’s all they tell me about him.” She grasped Leonora’s hand. “He’s waited for you all this time…what’s a little bit more? But you should only go to him when you are ready.” 
Suddenly, there was a knock at the entrance of the chambers. 
A servant came out of nowhere to answer it and immediately stepped aside to let them in. 
A male servant entered and bowed to them. 
“Pardon the intrusion. The High Lord wishes to see you.” 
“Of course,” Leonora nodded and stood. 
The servant cleared his throat awkwardly. “The High Lord has actually requested both of you, Lady of Autumn. Lady Y/N is to join us, as well.”
The two females shared a look. 
“It will be quite alright, dear.” Leonora told Y/N with a reassuring smile. 
––
Y/N and Leonora were escorted to the great hall, where Eris stood around a giant round table with his advisors. 
The High Lord did a double take as soon as he spotted Y/N’s entrance. 
The servant bowed his head to Eris. “Lady of Autumn and Lady Y/N, High Lord. As requested.” 
Eris nodded his thanks. 
All of his advisors stared at Y/N. Apparently they were used to Leonora, and almost ignored her presence entirely after bowing their greetings. 
Y/N shifted her weight nervously, but kept her head high.
Was she finally being punished for helping usurp Beron Vanserra? Despite helping crown Eris, was there consequences for her to face?
She didn't know the laws of the fae realm.
An advisor cleared his throat and looked to Eris calmly. “I believe it would be best for you to explain, High Lord.”
Eris glared at his table. “Would it? Because I have made it clear what my position is on the matter.”
That was when Y/N noticed Eris was clutching a letter in his hand – quite violently by the look of his white knuckled grip. 
Eris sighed and looked at only Y/N, stepping away from the table to get closer to her. 
“The other High Lords of Prythian have finally decided to acknowledge Beron’s demise. When word reached that two Night Court Illyrians and Lady Death had come to our aid, it has made them…concerned.” 
Y/N narrowed her gaze. “It was Rhysand who sent them…why does he not answer for their involvement?”
“He will be questioned, as well. There will be a meeting of the High Lords in two day’s time. But they have…requested that you also attend.”
Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly. “Me?” She looked around at the advisors. “But how…how do they even know of my existence?” 
Eris frowned. “Those still loyal to Beron made sure to spread the news of the witch who cursed Autumn Court.” Then he hesitated before adding, “But the news of my mate has also become…known.” 
Of course it has. That was why she was stuck here, wasn’t it? 
Eris stepped closer to Y/N with a look of determination. “You do not have to go.” 
But Y/N swallowed and glanced at his advisors. Clearly they didn’t agree with that option. 
“I-I have a choice?” She asked so only he and Leonora could hear. 
“Of course you do,” Eris answered, as if it were obvious.
“But…I don’t understand what they want from me.” 
Eris frowned. “They wish to question you about the night of the usurping. The other High Lords are weary about Rhysand’s aid. They see it as a move for him to take over other courts – or at least an effort to force other High Lords to give him something in return.” 
Y/N’s eyes darkened. “You mean they wish to interrogate me. They don’t trust my role in all this.” 
“I will not allow it. I will be there the entire time, as will my mother.” Then he snapped a warning glare at his advisors before once again adding, “But the choice remains your own.” 
Y/N took in a deep breath. “I will attend the meeting.” 
—🍁—🍁—🍁—
The meeting of the High Lords took place in Summer Court, which Y/N learned still had somewhat of a contentious relationship with Night Court after they stole a forbidden book. 
Y/N had asked the wind to tell her everything it could to prepare for her for this meeting. If she was going to be interrogated – even if Eris promised to prevent such a thing – she wanted to know any secret she could about these High Lords. 
Leonora’s handmaidens had woken Y/N up, insisting on helping her get ready. They did her hair and makeup. Then they put her into a dress that was the colors of Autumn Court, but clearly a lighter fabric to deal with the warm and beachy climate of Summer Court. 
But when Y/N met Leonora in the hallway, she was surprised to find the former High Lady in a gold and white gown. She'd been expecting another conservative black dress. But now it was clear that Leonora was sending a message to her past lover. 
Leonora smirked, knowing exactly what Y/N had figured out. “I think there is no longer a reason for subtly, do you not agree?”
Y/N gave a shy smile and nodded in agreement. 
“Come. Eris is waiting for us in the great hall.”
When the two females arrived, Eris did a double take at Y/N’s appearance. 
“Did we do well, my son?” Leonora asked him teasingly. 
Eris tried to glare at his mother, but it mostly looked like amusement. 
He cleared his throat and stepped towards them, offering his hands to winnow them. “Let us get this over with, shall we?” 
Y/N couldn’t decide which she hated more: winnowing or flying. But the winnowing left her feeling rather disoriented. 
They had arrived at an entryway of a palace. Y/N assumed it was the home of High Lord Tarquin – or one of his homes.
But then she heard the waves and the squeaks of seagulls. And she turned to see one of the most beautiful views she’d ever laid eyes on. 
Immediately she felt a sheen of sweat cover her skin. Yes, the views of the ocean were beautiful. But Y/N was not meant for such a warm climate. Already, she wished to return to the brisk air of Autumn.
“High Lord Eris, Consort Leonora, and Lady Y/N,” the servant greeted them with a bow. “The other High Lords have just arrived. Please, follow me.” 
Y/N was surprised to find Eris’ arm extended for her to take. Leonora walked behind them, clearly trying to show that she was no longer the Lady of Autumn. 
There were seats set in a circle in what appeared to be an open room to the elements, surrounded by high, white arches that offered a perfect view of the ocean. Y/N could still perfectly hear the soft crashing of the waves. 
Y/N hated that they were the last to arrive. She was sure Eris did it as some sort of power move. But it meant that everyone stared at their arrival. 
She knew that Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta would all be here. But Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to even so much as look at them. 
Tarquin stood at their approach and gestured to the only empty seat left in the circle. “Thank you for coming, Eris.” 
With a snap of his finger, Eris magically placed an identical chair next to his own and gestured for Y/N to sit in it. Leonora seemed to have no intention of sitting and stood behind them, gently propping her hand on the edge of her sons chair. 
To Y/N, it was a polite gesture for Eris. But really it was a show of irritation that Y/N was not important enough to receive her own place in the circle – despite being a High Lord’s mate. 
Y/N noticed that Tamlin – Feyre’s ex-lover – had even managed to show up. Apparently he had failed over and over again to tend to his duties as High Lord of Spring. 
“Let us not waste time,” Tarquin began, eyeing Eris closely. “You can understand how the recent events in Autumn have made the rest of us weary.” 
“I am not the first High Lord to usurp the throne,” Eris answered boredly. “I was not aware all of you were so allegiant to Beron.” 
“It is not your usurping. It is how you involved the Night Court in your attack against your own father,” Thesan commented. 
“I did not ask for their aid,” Eris answered instantly. “They came to save Y/N, not help with my effort to take the throne.” 
“Ahh, yes. The witch,” Helion hummed with amusement.
The High Lord of Day Court looked Y/N up and down, as if it would solve her mystery for him. 
“We came to Y/N’s aid because she is our friend and a fellow Valkyrie,” Nesta chimed in coldly. “Her gifts sent us a warning that she was in danger, that Beron had captured her.” 
“To cross Court lines to aid in foreign affairs is a risky one at best,” Tarquin answered. 
“Perhaps we should ask the witch of what happened to her that night,” Helion pushed with subtle amusement. 
“The witch has a name,” Eris hissed. “And it would be wise of you to use it.”
Helion’s gaze snapped to Leonora, only for a second. Then he nodded his head. “My apologies. Y/N, would you step forward please?" 
Y/N’s teeth ground together as she stood from her chair and stepped into the circle. 
“Why don’t you tell us about your journey?” Helion requested gently. 
“I lived on my own in the Mortal Realm…until I was captured by fae – amongst other women and children. It had become clear that we were being traded to wealthy fae, who wished to use humans as they pleased. I will let all of your imaginations come up with what exactly that meant. I attacked my captors as we passed through Autumn Court, and told the others to run for their lives. That is when…when Eris found me.” 
With the wave of his hand, Eris magically dropped a pile of papers beside Y/N. 
“What is this?” Rhysand spoke for the first time. 
Eris tilted his head. “Documents, proving that Beron was aiding wealthy merchants from the Continent in trading mortals as slaves. They were being brought to the Middle to be sold to the highest bidder and transported across the sea. Y/N was not the first to be taken – but she was the first to escape and save the rest of the victims in her party.” 
“Everyone here knows this is not the only evil Beron has released onto Prythian,” Eris added for good measure. 
Helion's gaze darkened as it once again flickered to Leonora. Surely he was imagining all the abuse his past lover had endured by the hands of Beron Vanserra.
He was the first to break the tense silence. “No one here believes that Beron was a just and rightful ruler.”
Once again, his gaze snapped momentarily to Leonora. 
“Rhysand aided my cause because I asked him to protect my mate with his life," Eris announced. "Night Court was the safest place for her."
“Why not go to another Court?” Kallias, the High Lord of Winter, asked. 
“The Archeron sisters were once mortals. My brother is an emissary there. The Night Court was well aware of my plans to usurp Beron. They understood more than anyone why I could not leave my mate just anywhere to be protected from my father.” 
“And what did you promise Rhysand in return?” Kallias urged. 
“Autumn’s loyalty and aid – when it would be mine to give,” Eris announced. “But Night Court did not request this of me, I offered it freely.” Eris shifted in his seat awkwardly. “I was a male…desperate to protect my mate.” 
It took all of Y/N’s strength not to turn around to see Eris’ face as he spoke of what he did to protect her. She could only stare at the ground, her hands clasped behind her back. 
“Y/N became one of us,” Feyre spoke for the first time. “We would have protected any innocent with or without the promise of Autumn’s loyalty.”
“And are you innocent?” Tamlin also broke his silence, glaring at Y/N as if she had personality offended him. “You are a witch, after all.” 
But Y/N would not take it. “Careful how you speak to me, High Lord Tamlin.” Her eyes darkened. “Or you risk exposing secrets you wish to keep locked away. I know more of you than you could ever know of me.” 
She couldn’t see it, but Eris grinned at his mate with pride. 
“Y/N is not like the witches we have heard about,” Rhysand chimed in. “She comes from a coven who wished to keep to themselves, only revealing themselves to aid others. That was proven when she risked her life to save our son.” 
“Which was also an attack set by Beron,” Eris noted darkly. 
Feyre and Rhysand sat up straighter.
Azriel and Cassian’s fists tightened at their sides.
Nesta looked…murderous. 
If Beron still lived, Y/N was sure that Nesta would have singlehandedly killed him after hearing such news.
“The slave trade was not Beron’s only evil dealings. He planned on kidnapping Nyx, fearful of the power the child would grow to have. Whether he planned on keeping the child hostage for his own use or selling him to the Continent, I do not know. The assailants were no soldiers of mine, but they were of the Autumn Court.” 
“It would appear it was time for Beron Vanserra’s demise,” Helion declared darkly. 
“It should have happened long ago,” Eris answered back. 
“What power do you possess, Y/N?” Thesan asked with curiosity. “Your coven has hidden themselves rather well. 
Tamlin leaned forward in his seat, eyeing Y/N with suspicion. “The only witches I know of are desperate for power. They will kill whatever innocents they can find, and consume their blood.” 
Y/N had been waiting for such a question – dreading it, actually.
The thing was, she did not even know what she was capable of any longer. A new power had been unleashed inside her. Whether it was during life or death situations only, she did not know. But she feared losing control of it. 
“She is not a subject to be studied!” Eris snapped before Y/N could even think of a response to the question that felt more like an accusation. “Y/N has been through enough, and I will not allow her to be poked and prodded for your own curiosities.” 
Helion also came to her defense and claimed, “She is not the first of her kind. I have met other witches like her in my life. Their hearts are true and they hold no evil.” Then he smirked. “But none were as powerful as it seems you are, Y/N. Curious that the Cauldron chose a mortal witch for a High Lord’s mate.” 
“That is enough discussion of our bond,” Eris interrupted, leaving no room for argument. Then he addressed the circle of High Lords and Ladies. “Are you all content now?” 
“It is clear Night Court has no ploys to take over other courts,” Kallias nodded. “And I for one think Prythian is better off with Beron dead. Leave Eris to handle his court. He has a long journey ahead of him, gaining the favor of his fae.” 
Everyone else nodded in agreement. 
As everyone rose, some started quietly talking amongst themselves. 
Y/N watched as Helion locked eyes with Leonora. It was clear that he wanted to go to to her. He took half a step in her direction, but something made him hesitate. 
She was so distracted with the interaction, that she hadn’t seen her friends of the Night Court – if that’s even what they were to her anymore. Y/N still hadn’t figured it out. 
After Eris insisted he’d promised something in return for them all looking after her, Y/N felt like perhaps she’d been too harsh with assuming they had been using her for their own gain. 
Feyre stepped forward first, with a cautious warmth. “I am glad to see you well after the attack, Y/N.”
Then Y/N suddenly felt a warmth behind her. Eris was right behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body at her back.
He wasn’t going to interrupt or cease the conversation, but he wanted her to know he was there for her. 
“Y/N, you must understand, we never wanted to keep any secrets from you,” Feyre continued. 
“For what it’s worth,” Eris muttered quietly to her. “I forbid them from telling you the truth. I thought things would be easier that way.” 
Y/N nodded slowly. 
Nesta and Cassian looked desperate for her forgiveness. Azriel watched her with a sadness in his gaze that he hid from everyone else quite well. 
“Everyone misses your store,” Cassian chimed in with a gentle smile. “Velaris’ isn’t the same without your witchcraft and medicine.” 
“Velaris isn’t the same without you,” Nesta corrected. 
Y/N took in a deep and shaky breath. “T-T-Thank you for taking me in,” she looked into all their eyes as she said it. “Deep down, I always knew even if Eris hadn’t promised you what he did, you still would have treated me as one of your own.” 
A wave of relief seemed to wash over the five of them. 
“But I wish to stay in Autumn Court,” she continued. “Until it’s safe for me to return to the Mortal Realm, that is.” 
Y/N tried to pretend that she couldn’t feel Eris’ entire body tense at the second part. 
“I hope we can continue to be friends,” she ended softly. 
“Of course, Y/N.” Rhysand answered immediately. “And you are always welcome in Night Court, whenever you wish to visit.” 
Nesta stepped forward. “And perhaps we could…visit you in Autumn.” 
Y/N nodded. But then quickly looked back at Eris for confirmation, as if he would take away such a privilege. 
He simply nodded, as well. 
Nesta hurriedly added. “Gwyn and Emerie said they wish to write to you, as well.”
Y/N grinned. “I would like that very much.”
“Are you keeping up your training?” Cassian asked with a smirk. 
“Of course,” Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully. “Eris has his Weapon’s Master training me every morning. Soon I’ll have mastered the fight strategies of Illyrians, Valkyries, and Autumn Court.” She quirked an eyebrow for good measure. 
“She will be a fearsome thing,” Eris muttered. 
Y/N didn’t expect such a compliment – especially from him and especially in front of such an audience.
Her face got hot from it. 
But when she looked up, Feyre and Cassian all seemed to be trying to hide their amusement. 
“We will send you the rest of your things by the end of the night,” Rhysand told her. 
“Oh, there’s no need. Eris has given me more than enough clothing.”
For some reason, it seemed wrong to take all those fanciful gifts Rhysand had insisted on gifting her after the attack on Nyx. It felt even more wrong to wear such things in a foreign court – and in front of her mate. 
But Eris didn’t seem to think so. “My servants will be waiting for their arrival.” 
Y/N’s brows raised in surprise. “But…if it’s not too much trouble to ask, I’d like my supplies and merchandise from my store.”
“Of course,” Rhysand said with a slight bow of his head. 
Leonora finally stepped toward the group. “Time to go?” She asked her son. 
He nodded. 
When Y/N turned back to her friends, they gave her an encouraging look. 
“We will see you soon,” Feyre insisted.
With that, Eris winnowed the three of them back to Autumn Court. 
Leonora already started to make her way to the dining room, leaving the two of them alone. 
“I really don’t need all those gifts Rhysand gave me,” Y/N insisted hurriedly. “They were beautiful, but they weren’t very…me.”
Eris shrugged. “You can sell them all before returning to the Mortal Realm. Open a new shop without trouble.” 
Y/N couldn’t understand why her heart sunk at his suggestion. Was he really so on board with her leaving and returning to the Mortal Realm? Did he not want her here at all? But that’s what she wanted, right? To be left alone and back in her old life of solitude and secrecy? 
-----
OK. This is quite long. Don't really know how that happened. But let me know what you thought! Everyone be like @pancakefancake
Chapter XIX
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bxriles · 7 months
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Sooo I’m considering writing a fic about two Hewn City siblings where the sister entered into a political marriage with Rhysand (pre ACOTAR of course) and where the brother starts a rebellion after his sister mysteriously dies once Rhysand makes it known that he has a mate…
Thoughts?? Would anyone even read that? I really just want an excuse to practice my writing skills tbh and I think it would be fun to write Rhys as a true villain from another perspective.
Plus I want to explore the concept of how the dreamers in the Court of Nightmares felt being abandoned by their High Lord.
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queercontrarian · 2 years
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my favourite prythian headcanon is all the older high lords being fiercely protective of tarquin because in their eyes he's basically still a kid?
like tarquin is hanging out with helion, trying to figure something out at the libraries with the day court's scholars' help (and helion would definitely see a bit of himself in the younger lord, with how idealistic he is and how passionate about his people, like the son he never had - lucien in the distance doing,, nothing actually, because he doesn't know either rip) and he mentions off-hand how feysand stole the book and broke into his mind "but i guess that's normal when dealing with daemati" - cue ten minutes later helion on the front lawn of feysand's mansion (just because you don't want to call it a mansion doesn't mean it's not a mansion, feyre) ripping them a new one for taking advantage of tarquin's kindness like that
or tarquin being invited to brunch with thesan and his husband and they both try to give him advice on how to push the integration of "lesser" fae in government and society in general because they've been through it before
or kallias going easy on him for trade negotiations (before realizing that tarquin is actually a very competent and capable high lord and a skilled negotiator and does not need any help on his part and to think that is kinda ignorant and demeaning). viviane and him would invite tarquin for game nights.
or tarquin being the only high lord tamlin actually talks to - and even almost enjoys it - because 1. a lot of his people are still in the summer court so he kinda has to and 2. they bond over what a shitty neighbour beron is. also tarquin would always bring food, especially fruit and candy from the summer court. and when tarquin shows up at your door with peaches and sweet wine and dried fruit and nuts you just don't turn him away
and ig the closest thing to eris being nice would be turning beron's eye to the spring court instead of summer, which is almost as much in shambles as spring, and sending his most agreeable brother to treat with tarquin. plus he would sorta kinda be on board with tarquin's dream of a seasonal courts alliance
no note for the night court because we already know how they treated tarquin for his kindness. and idc that they "felt bad about it", they still did it. tarquin is way too nice in forgiving them, and i hope cressida is holding that grudge until the day she gets to take her revenge on them
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jmoonjones · 1 year
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How many years need to go by before someone in Prythian dares to throw a masquerade ball?
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mid-nightsky · 1 year
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A Court of Thorns and Roses
The night court
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shallyne · 1 year
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chunkypossum · 6 months
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This is for @erisweek2023 Day 2: high lord/heir.
It’s a scent guide to our boy in Kerosene on AO3
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My little head cannon of Eris’ scents in Kerosene… Eris is destined to be the most powerful High Lord of Autumn (imo overall). Like the kind that prophecies are written about lol
I really wanted his scent to reflect that in this fic. So instead of smelling like wood smoke and cinnamon all the time (or whatever his scent might end up being. I don’t think we know yet in cannon(?)) I wanted him to reflect his court entirely.
Well… I confused myself so I had to write it all down and thought some of y'all might appreciate a guide too. I like to think since he is made from Autumn that his scent would reflect the layered tapestry of the season itself and every one of his emotions changes his scent. The only one to pick up on it in its full complexity of course would be his mate. To everyone else his scent would probably be largely the same with little hints of something else here and there noticeably different but not as radically changing as what his mate can detect…
All the time there is an underlying scent of crisp, cool air sweetened by freshly fallen leaves being crushed underfoot
Adding cinnamon, leather, oak, moss, tobacco, whiskey (earthy smells) for anything warm and content but also to enhance any of his feelings.
Happy: Vanilla - simple, classic
Joy: happy + extra sweet and earthy; Vanilla + Cinnamon or leather + Maple or butterscotch; the happier the sweeter and more rich
Anxiety - patchouli, wet and earthy with a sharp citrus note like grapefruit
Sad - His crunchy leaf smell becomes damp and smells more like organic decay, not cool and crisp but frosty.
Arousal is clove based, with saffron for pure lust. Almost like the mixed scents of mulled cider especially when he is playfully aroused
Angry - charred wood from an old, dead campfire. The more furious he is the more damp leaf decay and rotten apples. Everything is laced with a rotten sweet smell with an underlying current of old smoke and tobacco. Sharp and jarring
Scared - is sometimes confused with arousal because of the clove smell but it's more sour like spoiled pumpkin
Disgusted/shocked/Depressed - His scent grows cold and dull. Smells almost like frost in the air with an undercurrent of rotten pumpkin and enhanced with something earthy like moss the stronger the emotion is
I tried to group some stuff together and overlap some of the scents so it didn’t get overly complicated 😅
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moonys-library · 9 months
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“But looking in those star flecked violet eyes no one would ever mistake him for anything but extraordinary.”
the way this is my favorite rhysand's description. 😭😭😭😭💞
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taylrartz · 1 year
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Feyre and Rhys in the Court of Nightmares😈✨😘
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Can be found with all my other drawings on insta as well @taylrartz 🫶🥰
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olegleus · 2 years
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Tamlin and Feyre 💚🍀🍃🌹
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velidewrites · 1 year
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ACOTAR CHARACTERS || THESAN
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bxriles · 6 months
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Y'all convinced me
It's official. I'm doing it. I'm writing a fic about the rebellion in the Court of Nightmares against Rhysand and the IC. If you didn't see my last post, here's the premise:
There's a set of siblings in the Hewn City, dreamers who have been abandoned by their High Lord. One of the sisters enters into a political marriage with Rhysand (pre-ACOTAR) and mysteriously ends up dead after discovering that he's found his mate. After the people learn of her death, a rebellion led by the two remaining siblings ensues in the Court of Nightmares and goes all the way up to Illyria.
Feel free to message me ideas or thoughts on this if you have any! I'm excited for this one!
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pearlsofme · 1 year
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This AI created by @ Aslan Pahari is how I imagine Helion (with longer hair of course)
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A dark-skinned South Asian man. I’ve since read that SJM views him akin to Middle Eastern, but I think that’s part of the jarring experience of being a Black reader. “Dark Brown” skin to me is Dark Brown—Black people, South Asian people, Aboriginal people. Simply “Brown” is what I would’ve thought of as Middle Eastern, Indigenous, mixed race and some South Asian as well. How I imagine Cassian, Az, Emerie and the Illyrians. Even Rhys. I know they’re all white washed in so many the fan arts, but I’m really curious about the differences in how BIPOC imagined these characters compared to white readers.
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