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chernabogs · 7 months

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Monody

Inc: Malleus x Reader, with special inclusion of Malleus' grandmother, Lilia, and Sebek's mother. Warnings: Existential crisis, brief allusion to death WC: 2k+ Summary: Fae loved rarely, but when they did, it was an all or nothing event—there was no hesitation when it came to that plunge. And this scared him.

She never remarried. When he was younger, his mind didn’t quite wrap around it as he would look up at her portrait in the palace halls. Her, and his mother—a mere child at the time—with her sombre gaze and blank expression, ungiving of any thoughts she had as the portrait was made. She was youthful herself, enough so that surely any Fae in the Valley would have sought her hand, and yet she never replaced the ring his grandfather gave her, nor did she take it off.

What a silly move, he may have once thought. Are you not lonely? Are the ghosts not driving you away?

Ghosts can do little to provide warmth at night, and ghosts are all that Black Scale Palace had. A skeleton court with spectres in the rafters. Once there may have been merriment and joy, but that was well before his hatching. His childhood consisted of hushed conversations in dark palace halls, faces that aged well before their time, and a heavy silence that lingered in the air.

There’s a mausoleum for his family near the palace grounds, and it’s in this place of death that he first discovered the horrors of love. In the stagnant interior, where stone tombs with his family members' faces carved on them rest, he would hide as a child from tutors and guardians alike. The flickering of eternal flames on the wall provided enough light to see the features of those he would never meet. On newfound legs with newfound hands he would touch the face of his mother, of his grandfather, and of all those who came before, mapping them onto his own like he was trying to find a part of them in him somewhere.

His grandmother found him there once. He expected a scolding, but instead she stood in silence, letting him explore until she finally cleared her throat to alert him of her presence.

"This is grandfather?", he would ask her, in the innocent manner that children often do when topics of death arise. And she would nod, as he moved to the next tomb. "And this is mother?", he asked, and she would nod again, her gaze once more ungiving to the thoughts in her mind.

"Do you miss them?"

He didn’t know loss the way she did at the time. He didn’t know the pain from losing your love, from losing your daughter, from not knowing if the last member of your family will live or not.

"I do." He remembers her answering. She stood by the door as she spoke, as though afraid to enter further, afraid to approach the faces that she once saw with life and now only knew in dreams. "I miss them greatly."

"Why?" He had turned to look at her. Her face was washed in shadows, but her eyes—he would always remember her eyes. They were blank as she looked at him.

"Everyone misses the ones they love when they leave us. You cannot speak with them, or hold them, or tell them how much they mean to you. All you can do is stand here—and stare."

He had turned back to the tomb of his mother, with her sombre gaze and blank expression. With features of stone she felt cold to touch, and Malleus suspected the shiver that ran up his spine was not simply because of the mausoleum's temperature. He looked back at his grandmother again, at the way she stared at the tombs that surrounded them, before he hurried to her side.

He did not want to love, he decided then, in a rash thought fuelled by a child's fear. He did not want to be like her one day, at the entrance of a tomb alone, with only the option to stand—and stare.

Love is for the lonely.

_______________________________________________

He knew the Zigvolt girl from the scarce Court events that he was allowed to attend. She was much like her father—loud, with electric green hair and scales adorning her cheeks. She towered over the others with a presence that commanded attention and a laugh that drew all eyes to her when she let it free. As a child, he had found her noisy and irritating, a feeling he had commented to Lilia on more than one occasion.

Then one day she was not there. The absence of sound, of that loud laugh and commanding tone, jarred him briefly and he had ventured to Lilia to question where the young socialite had gone.

"Do you miss her already?" Lilia had chuckled, causing Malleus’ brow to furrow in response.

"Is she ill?"

Illness was the only explanation he could fathom, despite never experiencing it himself. Then he saw Lilia’s expression—a brief flash of sympathy—before it fell back to benign amusement.

"No, not ill. But I dare say we will be seeing less of her at events of the nobility from here on out." Was all he had offered back, as frustratingly cryptic as always.

It was through Malleus’ unspoken-of (yet highly developed) talent for eavesdropping that he gradually began to piece together the scandalous tale of the young socialite and the dental assistant she had found herself enamoured with.

When Malleus learned the man was a human, he had decided that the Zigvolt girl was as foolish as he had suspected. Tensions still lingered with human-kind, and every Fae knew that the shortness of a human's lifespan compared to their own made relationships a ridiculous idea to pursue. Why would one wish to intentionally hurt themself by loving something that would leave them so soon? Surely the brief halcyon days that such a romance would bring would not be worth the bleakness that follows when the coffin is set in the earth?

"She’s happy," Lilia had mused as Malleus pried into the relationship even further. "Baul, less so, but I think even he is gradually warming up to the idea."

"But why?" Malleus had asked, scowling as he did. "Why choose him when she knows he’ll die soon?"

Lilia had fixed Malleus with an unusually stern look at that. The two stood in Lilia’s cottage, facing off against each other with Malleus—in the typical teenage temperament—looking frustrated in turn. "She’s foolish."

"Love makes fools of us all." Lilia had countered then. "When you know you have found the right person, you care little for the obstacles that stand in your way. You would tear the world asunder for them. Death may end it physically, but the feeling will always remain."

"Foolish." He repeated, shaking his head and turning away. "What is the point of being so vulnerable when you know it will only last a moment?"

He had been invited to the wedding. Although he did not go, he had been told the Zigvolt girl had radiated a joy so great that it put even the brightest of the sun's rays to shame.

Love is for the fools.

_______________________________________________

Ramshackle was a dorm of ruins. Even from beyond the gates, he could hear the sound of the floorboards rotting and the cement cracking under the weight of time. It was a soothing melody of decay that seemed to lighten his heart significantly whenever he passed by at night. There was something so lovely about seeing places of life now stand as monoliths in the night.

Which is why, when he saw a light on in the window, it had irritated him deeply. At first he believed that students had crept in for a fright—something he would be more than happy to give them—until a figure had stepped out and stood on the porch, watching him.

He stood by the iron gate, and stared right back.

They faced off against each other for a long moment before the figure trekked down the pathway—he could hear that gaudy shuffling—and came to a stop before him.

A human.

A plain, rather forgetful human, who looked up at him like a child with an expression of both confusion and concern.

The encounter had been brief, enough so that he figured he would forget about it as soon as he returned back to Diasomnia. And yet, it still lingered in his mind in the coming nights, accompanied by an odd spark of eagerness for what would happen next.

What name shall you give me? What role shall I play?

The gifting of a name was an intimate act often reserved for those closest to one another. He had never been close to anyone beyond family and those affiliated with them. This stranger in the night, one of curiosity and caution, would be the first he would forge this connection with.

The name you had granted had been laughable, and it took all of his self-control not to crack a grin when you announced it with such pride at the next encounter. Your naivety was charming in a quaint, adoring manner. That was not the only aspect that drew his interest. Your resilience, your ambition, your compassion to the students around you that so greatly contrasted what he had grown up witnessing in his years at Black Scale Palace. You were refreshing.

There was a feeling there. It unsettled him. He didn’t tell Lilia about it; rather, he secured it in a locked box in his chest, pushing it away and dismissing it as a mere interest over your willingness to be so at ease with him. Sometimes that feeling rattled around and made him feel nauseous, both with himself and with you. Other times, it was though it never existed at all.

Things changed when he over-blotted.

Perhaps it was a cruelty on his part to let you be exposed to the horrors and the tragedies that had plagued his homeland for so long. Perhaps a part of him craved you to know it, to know him, so you would realize that he was not the kind of person you had built up in your mind. He gave you death, and loss, and sorrow—

And in the end, you gave him forgiveness.

He tore the world asunder like Lilia had once alluded to and you had stood through it all, your gaze never wavering, your heart never shaken. He hated it. He hated you (what a lie). He wanted to force you out of existence so that the locked box in his chest could finally be put in the ground like it deserved. He wanted to force Silver, to force Sebek, to force Lilia. The loss of control sent him spiralling because he had always, always, had that at least.

The aftermath of it all was humbling.

Broken words and broken apologies had poured from his lips to those who he held dear. He had met the eyes of the boys he helped raise and the man who had raised him. He had looked to you, his friend, his confidant, and perhaps something more—though the thought of that terrified him more than anything else. Black blot was soon washed away and the world began to push forward despite the rotting briar thorns that covered the land, a mausoleum of its own to the actions that occurred that night.

He had never been to a medical ward, but he was there now, and so were you—sitting by his side, yammering on about some mundane thing that was glossing over his mind. It was on that cot that he had finally forced himself to turn and really look at you.

A human.

A plain, rather forgetful human. Nothing about you should have stood out for him, and yet when he looked your way, it was as though the entire world faded out except for your voice. The locked box in his chest felt heavy. He wanted to rip it out and toss it aside.

You cannot speak with them, or hold them, or tell them how much they mean to you. All you can do is stand here—and stare.

His grandmother’s words replayed in his mind like a broken record. Fae loved rarely, but when they did, it was an all or nothing event—there was no hesitation when it came to that plunge.

And this scared him.

A human. You were a human.

How long did that give you? 60 years, maybe. 70 if you were fortunate enough. 178 years already felt like a blink of an eye for him, so surely 70 would be just as quick?

He thought about the Zigvolt girl again as he continued to listen to you talk. He had considered her foolish once, but now he realized perhaps it had been envy that he felt, rather than disdain. She had the courage to grasp on to an opportunity despite knowing that it would last only moments in her lifetime. Meanwhile here he was, silently watching you with valuable words unable to leave his throat.

He looked away to the white ceiling above. A plain, empty space that one could lose themselves in quite easily.

He wanted to be like the Zigvolt girl. He wanted to be like his grandmother. He wanted to be like Lilia. He wanted to tear the world asunder once more, to shield you away from death as it crept closer and closer with each night that passed. He wanted you. He wanted you, so much so that it ached in his body.

But he couldn’t do it. Not to you, not to himself. He loved slowly, and someone like you deserved a more fulfilling experience than what he could provide in your lifetime.

So he simply lay there, and continued to listen to you speak.

Love is for the lonely.

Love is for the fools.

Loving you is for someone much bolder than he.

#twst x reader #malleus draconia #twst malleus #someone hold me at gunpoint and make me write another dorm plz #anyway that's all she wrote folks

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illiicits · 8 months

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Everything will be okay

Hi everyone!

I would like to start by saying this was very quickly read through and I wrote this while I was at work lol. So I’m sorry if it makes no sense or there are really bad mistakes. I’ll try to come back and fix them. Thank you for reading it and I hope you like it!

Warnings: Azriel x Female reader, some slight dirty talk (not that much), sexual scenes 18+, some cuteness between Az and reader, use of Y/N.

Word count: 5060

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You couldn’t help but envy the beautiful Acheron sister’s. In your opinion Feyre was enough. The Acheron female had infested your beautiful home with something you couldn’t quite understand. You got along just fine with the women, Often hanging out and lending your time to entertain her when she calls. Close friends is what you’d say you are with feyre though mostly one sided at times, on your part.

When the inner circle went to hybron everything went down hill. Chaos was the only word you could describe the event with.

Utter chaos.

Nothing went the way anyone thought it would; especially when evil human queens decided to play with life all for nothing. When two more Acheron sisters showed up out of nowhere you didn’t think much of the effect either of the two newly added children would bring to the inner circle.

When Hybren pulled his stupid little cauldron stunt you were at a disbelief that two arguably already pretty girls turn into stunning gorgeous women.

Watching both the girls stand soaking wet amazed you. The whole experience was a sight to see.

You didn’t not envy the two newly fae women. While beautiful and elegant looking none of the fae could come close to comparing to your kind.

You, yourself, are of rare beauty and pure power. Something the creatures of the world wouldn’t understand if you explained in detail.

You watched sweet little Elain find her mate right away. You watched the fire, hatred filled Acheron sister find her lover too. You couldn’t help the displeased look cross your face at that time. You couldn’t help but to slightly hate the two young sisters who suddenly became so in your face, much like Feyre. You had set aside and locked away your possessive side for Feyre regarding Rhys.

You never had any romantic relationship or feelings towards the high lord. He simply became family after he saved you years ago. You were possessive of all the inner circle, Rhys, Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel. They all were Your family. People you loved and people who returned the love back.

You got along with all of them. Bickering with Cassian, and Mor. Shopping with Amren at times when she could handle socializing with the group, and bringing her food supply when needed.

Azriel though, was a whole other level. We sat in silence in the library, we bickered , we fought and argued. We dance in Rita's, something the shadow singer is not fond of doing and he’d sing with me, though very rarely during the dead of night. When we both happened to meet on a balcony or rooftop of the home.

We’d sneak glances and run off to hide away from the world for a little when things got boring or too intense at times.

His shadows grew fond of you, often eloping you in them and seeking you out when you’re close enough to the shadowsinger. Sometimes, you swear you could hear them whispering the faintest of words to you. Nothing you can fully make out but by the way they were acting you could guess good things.

During Ameranthas rule Az’s demeanor changed. Always brooding, always grumpy, always looking for work; for ways to rescue Rhys. Trying to find a way to sneak in and get him out, maybe even burn the whole damn mountain too. It had killed him during the first couple years the high lord was gone. It took little piece from Azriel.

But somewhere in the last 50 years your relationship flipped. Not somewhere, you remember the night you had crossed the border of friendship into something more. When your whole life changed.

It started in the first few years Rhys was under the mountain. During Starfall.

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“Azriel! Azriel!” You shouted down the hall trying to keep up the pace of one foot in front of the other. It was proving difficult to do in your lilac floral covered gown. One you had gotten just to impress the damn man, one you had gotten just for this star fall.

“Azriel, you big Illyrian baby! Stop running away.” You called to the shadowsinger, a tall frame descending down the hall. A door joining the hallway had slammed shut, you knew it was his bedroom. The only time you went in it was when he had invited you, so you both could share the silence. When he did invite you into his room you’d both more times than not just sit reading out on his balcony or watch the stars shine over the city.

Coming to a halt at the dark wooden door, you stood there hand on the handle catching your breath. You damned your shoes in your head reaching down your leg to your ankle where the straps of your heels sat. Unbuckling them you gathered the pair in your hands and swung open the door.

Az hadn’t turned the lights on yet leaving you slightly blinded by the darkness that engulfed his living quarters. You knew the layout well enough and with the faint glow of the stars leaving traces of light flowing through the arches dividing the bedroom and the balcony, you made your way towards the handsome man.

You sucked in a little breath of cold air, cooling the slight burning sensation you had endure running to catch up. Stopping for a second to take the sight in, you watched Azriel wings flutter with irritation, watched how his back rose and fell with each heavy huff of cold air he let through to his lungs. His back was facing you, top half of his body leaning over the railing his forearm most definitely crossed. He lifted his head and stared at the sky for a couple moments.

He looked transcendent under the starlight. His shadows circling around his shoulders, across his wings, his back, sneaking around his ankles and legs.

Your Eyes narrowed in on the winged Illyrian. You stomped your way over to the tall form. Halfway there you threw one shoe at his back. “What the hell was that Azriel?” You question throwing the next shoe right after. They hit him with a thump and then fall to the ground with a clack.

“I can’t believe you did that!” You yelled in disbelief. “On all the nights, you decided to get moody and be a jerk, you had to pick His favorite holiday, you had to pick the one night we celebrate regardless of him being gone” your frustration rang out into the night stars.

You stopped behind him. Expecting him to hold out longer, but his voice filled the air. “Go away.” Az’s voice felt like it fluttered out into the night air. “No, I’m not leaving, you’re acting like a brat!” You voiced. “ a- a dick! You could easily have ruined the entire night for everyone.” You argued back letting a huff of air leave your lips at the end.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N” he spat out turning around qucikly to face you. “Learn to quit, learn- learn to stop being so goddamn stubborn and pushy!” He yelled back frustrated, running his hand through his hair.

You stood there searching his anger filled eyes. Looking at a man so clearly broken, looking at someone who his whole life hid his pain and suffering from the rest of the world, the rest of the inner circle.

You watched him suck in air and blow it out quickly. His chest rising and falling each time he took a deep breath. Your eyes softened at the sight.

You reached out slowly grabbing a scared hand in yours, “Az, I know it's hard. I know you wish you could do something, anything at all to save him, to - to bring him home.” You spoke softly, barely a whisper afraid the shadowsinger would bolt if you decided to speak full volume again.

“You-” a sigh left your glossed lips. “You need to let go sometimes Az”.

“I don’t.” He replied harshly. “It’s my JOB to be aware, to- to protect everyone.” He ripped his hand from yours stalking towards a lounger.

“I have to keep searching for a way. It shouldn’t be taking me this long to find a way to save him Y/N.” Azriel plopped down on the edge of the lounger. "I'm trying and I’m failing.” He admitted placing his arms on his knees and his head between them.

Your heart ached seeing this warrior so wounded. After fighting battles and doing some of the hardest spying, seeing some of the worst things, hell experiencing the worst. He still feels that everyone else’s trauma is bigger than his.

Walking towards the warrior you reached out and grabbed his hands again. Holding both of them to your chest. “Azriel listen to me.” You spoke trying to comfort your favorite shadowsinger. “You need to let go, you need to learn to live your life sometimes.” You pleaded softly. “I know, trust me, I know that it’s killing you not being able to save him, we all feel like that Az.” You admitted squeezing his hands a little. “We just- we just, I don’t know, we still live. It’s hard and we all are still trying to figure out a way, but azriel you’re not doing anything to help yourself. You stress and stress with no way of lightening the load, or- or even to just relax for a little bit.” You claimed staring down at the beautiful man.

Azriel looked up at you staring into your eyes. He searched your beautiful face. Debating on if he should continue with his delightful thoughts that somehow snuck into his mind. Even though just moments ago he was upset and angry with himself. When you bent down to meet his eyes he caught a glimpse of your cleavage being shown off, more so tonight in the dress you wore than other outfits.

You wanted him to let go and to relax for tonight he could do that. He already knew what he wanted, and has wanted for a little while. He just never wanted to cross that boundary with you. He never wanted to keep something so safe yet completely corrupt in his life. And maybe it was the way you cared for him or maybe it was finally the realization that Rhys may never come home and he should just go for it because he no longer knows if you could disappear next, Or maybe, just maybe it was the tasty fairie wine he consumed earlier that he finally let go of his worries.

“Ok” Azirel's deep voice reached your ears.

“Okay what?” You questioned back. Running your fingers over is his hands you hold in yours. Small delicate fingers tracing rough scarred skin. Azriel even in your heels, that lay by the fence where he stood before, towered over you. The man very much was a giant which worked well for his job for the night court.

Anyone in their right mind should be scared in general of the warrior that sat before you, but you never once had experienced that terrifying feeling people claim they give him. You’ve never once felt like azriel would hurt you. You knew no matter what that him and his shadows would do everything in their power to keep you safe. You don’t know why you felt like that with him. More so than anyone else. You always passed it off as a gut feeling, or being extremely well in tune and good friends.

His voice cut through the small gap of silence that fell between you two. “Ok” he’s hands pulled out of yours.

His hands he had just removed from yours slowly moved to grab the sides of your hips. Bunching the lilac covered dress. You sucked a sharp breath in, air filling your lungs as you looked down at the godlike man with a questionable look casted in your eyes. Hazel eyes filled with lust looked over your face glancing down to your chest that looked bustier than you normally do, then they trailed back up to meet yours.

Heat quickly traveled across your body and up to your cheeks tainting them a light pink. Az hummed, a deep dark sound of approval when he looked at you.

“Will you help me relax tonight Y/N?” He questioned pulling on your hips; bringing you between his knees. His scarred hands lowered to rub the sides of your thighs. Heat began to pull between your thighs as you breathlessly responded to him. “Az? What are you- what are you doing?” Your hands moved to sit on his shoulder bracing yourself from the tug.

“You’ve taken up more of my thoughts than you should Y/N, more than any other woman has before.” His deep voice spoke. “You frustrate me to no end. I watch you smile and laugh and it makes my day so much better. You ease my worries and to help dim the pain and stress I have.” Az stated. “You make me happy and I have fought and fought and fought myself over and over again. Because I’m scared that I’ll end up ruining you with my issues. That you’ll end up being burned and scared.” He continued. “I’ll chase you away.” He choked back a noise in his throat threatening to escape.

Silence filled the air as you tried to understand what he said. Finally you said “you’d never be able to scare me off.” You confirmed. “Nothing would ever force me to stop being here for you, nothing ever.” You exclaimed. “You worry over silly things sometimes.” You remarked with a light smile on your lips.

He leaned forward and kissed your hip over the fabric of your dress. “You don’t know how many dirty thoughts have crossed my mind tonight”. “Watching your lips wrap around the rim of a glass, watching your tongue darting out to lick the frosting left over on your lips.” He looked up. “I’d love to have that pretty mouth wrapped around me.” Azriel said, a smirk starting to make an appearance on his face. His admission sent a shiver through your body and heat building between your thighs under your gown.

You’ve thought about the shadow singer on nights where it was hard to fall asleep. Other times when you’ve had too much to drink at Rita’s, you’ve always been a shamelessly flirty drinker. Often during those nights you’d be dancing with the spymaster after you begged and begged for him to dance with you, something he never usually indulged in, but he could never bring himself to refuse you especially when once he said yes you’d grab his hand with a giggle and the biggest smile would be plastered on your face for the rest of the night.

Most times, you’d end up going home leaning on the tall muscled man talking his ear off as his shadows danced around you. Azriel would drop you off at your bedroom door and bid you a goodnight. Those nights you’d always end up tossing and turning in your sleep so you’d always end up in the dead of night with your hand between your thighs whispering his name.

You breathlessly let his name fall from your lips.

“Yes Y/N?” He questioned back.

His hands slowly lifted the sides of the dress up the pads of his fingers dragging across your smooth skin. Goosebumps raised across your arms and legs. Something so delicious about his scarred hands against the silk of your leg made a small sound escape from your throat. Azriel cupped the back of your knees dragging you forward guiding each leg to sit on the sides of his pure muscle thighs.

You sat on Azirels lap. Breathing heavy and clenching your thighs. Not believing that this situation was in fact real. You begged yourself to wake up from this dream.

Scarred hands stayed under your dress slowly moving them from behind your knees to the sides of your thighs. You felt like you were burning from his touch. That if you looked down under your pretty lilac dress you wore just for this man, the one you're sitting on top of thighs on either side of, that you’d find your flesh melted away, right there where his hands gripped your thighs so tightly it stung.

His hands traveled up higher to your hips. Placing both hands in a tight grip and slowly moving you; once, twice, three times. He slowly guided you to roll your hips with his hands.

Your eyes slowly fluttered shut at the euphoric sensation that started thrumming in your body. Radiating from his hands to your hips then through your body, down your legs, up the sides of your torso to your heart.

“Did you wear this just for me Y/N?” He questioned.

“Did you wear this lilac flower dress that fits you so well to show off those perfect round tits and your silky legs just for me?” He questioned with a deep growl while he fingered the slit open exposing my skin to the cool air.

“Hm, Y/N? Did you dress up just for the terrifying shadowsinger? To get his attention, to please him?” He spoke again.

Not liking that you weren’t looking at him,or replying to him when he questioned you he roughly grabbed your throat, fingers splayed around your neck and on top of your jaw. You not responding irked the spy. He would never let his questions go unanswered in such a serious situation, this was a very very serious situation, so he’d get the answer out of you.

His eyes narrowed on your face watching the pure bliss and lust fall over your pretty features as you rolled your hips on your own. He jerked your jaw down using the fingers that stayed slightly over your jaw.

“Open your eyes Y/N. Open those pretty sparkly eyes for me and you are to not close them again.” He commanded. “You hear me Y/N?” Azriel’s firm voice shook slightly, something you definitely didn’t notice yourself but he felt it. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, you stared down at Az with sparkling lust filled eyes. A small sound emitted from your throat when he squeezed it slightly, trying to get you to answer his questions, to follow his commands.

“Yes, I did.” You gasp out while you slowly roll your hips every so often, begging and commanding for something more. “I wore it just for you, I wanted you to look at me; see that I dressed up for you, I got dolled up for you.” You confirmed. You gasped out when you rolled your hood just right hitting a sweet spot ober and over again. “Hoping, no- no praying you’d notice how I wore one of your favorite colors. Just for you, Az.” You continued staring into his eyes watching them deepen with want and some sort of dark twisted need.

You swing your arms over his shoulders, one hand going into his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly at the silky back hair. Az let go of your throat moving his hand to cup one of your breasts over the sweetheart neckline of the dress.

He moved closer to your body. Scarred hands squeezing your hip in one and your breast in the other. He leans forward his lips making contact with the top of your smooth mound. You sucked in a sharp breath, your body is in overdrive. You felt his mouth kissing over your mounds giving each one the same amount of attention. Licking, and kissing, sucking the top each sending heat waves everytime he did. He finally let up his assault on your chest with a quick pop and a slight jiggle of your breast.

Azriel moved to fully sit back in the lounge. His movement fixed the location of how high you sat on top of him. You felt his warmth beneath you; right under your own. You bucked your hips once, twice enjoying the feeling of him pressed into you. Azriel watched as you slowly built your arousal, his rough skin rested on the silky thighs rubbing them- squeezing them. He reached behind you tugging on the lace of the corset that held your dress up.

“Az” you moaned out so softly; barely audible his eyes snapped back up to yours as the top of the dress fell down exposing two very nicely rounded breast. Your Nipples harded from the cold chilly air hitting the warm sensitive beads. Azriel’s eyes darkened watching your chest rise and fall, he swallowed, enchanted at your beautiful body. He always knew you were wonderful. He knew something delicious always sat under your clothes.

He breathed out a breath just anticipating see you all fully under him one day. Cause after he’s had you once there’s no way in hell he’d let another touch you how he will tonight. No one else will ever again get to hear your soft moans and gasp.

Grabbing the sides of his face making him look up into your eyes. You spoke softly “kiss me Azriel. I need- I need you to kiss me.” Az didn’t bother responding to the request verbally as he felt the uncontrollable urge to just have you and need to consume your breath. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you. Lips wrapping together, tugging and nipping each other. His tongue graced your bottom lip and you instantly opened slightly to allow his tongue to dart into your mouth to dance with your own. Kissing for minutes only taking breaks to catch your breath then you got right back into it.

Az’s hands went down to your ass gripping it to guide you to rock back and forth on his clothed cock. Tired of not having enough to feel, you reached down between your thighs to the buckles that kept Azriel tucked away. Pulling at them you finally got them free. Azriel helped you out by pulling his hardened cock out the confinement of his pants.

You looked down between the two of you. Watching as Azriel’s hand that’s wrapped around his length moves up and down. Watching as his head slightly starts glistening with pre cum.

“Such a dirty girl.” Az’s voice cut through the air. Azriel was watching you as you stared at what his hand was doing. “You like watching me touch myself princess?” Az questioned you. You hummed in response, briefly looking up to meet his eyes before they returned back to the show.

Azriel was a big man who was very cocky in his fitness and abilities. You’ve heard the rumors and giggles of the girls talking about the three winged men and their size correspondence of wings. You couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the thought that all the girls were in fact telling the truth when they’d whisper to each other about what possibly hid underneath these warriors' leathers.

“Be a good girl and touch yourself for me” Az stated. You didn’t listen as you moved your hips instead. Back and forth trying to get some sort of friction to help soothe the growing heat and need that was building even faster now.

Azriel let out a lightly growl of frustration when he suddenly took hold of your wrist. “Be a good girl y/n and touch yourself, like I asked.” He angrily said, taking the wrist he was holding with a firm grip as he moved it to the spot between your legs.

Your delicate fingers met with the heat and wetness that had been building that had soaked into your lacy fabric. You slowly took your fingers and ran them over your heat quickly before settling your middle finger over your clit. Light and airy moans escaped you as rubbed clockwise circle movements on the small sensitive bud.

“Just like that baby, you’re doing so good for me” his gruff voice praised. Your eyes fluttered shut as you worked yourself up to a blissful state. You completely disregarded his earlier command of keep your eyes open and he didn’t seem to mind either. “Az!” You moaned out breathlessly going faster.

“Fuck Azriel, oh Az” you cried out throwing your head back.

Azriel aggressively removed your hand from yourself taking quick actions to quickly remove your lace thong. As soon as it was off he quickly continued your earlier actions with his own. Scarred rough fingers met smooth delicate skin as he used his thumb to continue the torture on your sensitive clit. “So fucking pretty, you’re so pretty gods.” Azriel praised. Causing you to grab his wrist between your thighs as your hips started following the movement. Trying to build the sensation of flutters and bliss more.

“ I need mo- more” you whined out in the night air. Bringing your eyes to look at the shadowsinger below you. “You need more, what babygirl?” He questioned eyes darting between his hand touching your wetness then back to your eyes. “Come on love, use those words otherwise I won’t know what you want.” He teased.

“I need you.” You whispered out.

“What’s the magic word princess?” He taunted. “You know I’m not giving you it until you say it, so what do we say love”

“Please Az, I need more” you spoke looking into his eyes. “I need you, please, I want you, oh gods please Az please. You begged breathlessly pushing his hand down and away from you as you lifted your hips up.

“Fuck baby girl, you sound so fucking desperate for me.” He moaned.

Azriel moved to wrap his arm around your middle pulling your bodies closer. He used his other hand to pump himself a few times before running the tip of his cock through your wetness back and forth. Holding you tightly to him, azirel turned his head to kiss from your shoulder to the dip in your neck, up to your jaw and to your plump lips. He claimed your mouth with his as your arms came to rest on his muscled shoulders.

Azriel pulled away, breaking your intense kiss. He rested his forehead against yours as he softly spoke “ if it hurts, or if you want to stop at any time tell me.” He kissed the side of your cheek. “Okay? y/n” he questioned.

You smiled at the man before you “okay Az”. You gave him the green light. He gave you one last kiss before pulling back resting on a hand on your hip while the other held him at your entrance. He slowly helped you sink down onto him.

“Fuck!” He cussed. “You’re so fucking wet for me” he hummed. Moving his other hand that had helped guided him into you, to your sides. He gripped the flesh tightly causing you to cry out.

You felt yourself stretching around his cock as you slowly guided yourself further down until you had his whole length filling you up. You looked down between your bodies catching a glance at his cock disappearing into you as you slowly started bouncing up and down. Your walls gripping him tightly.

“Oh gods Az. Fuck, baby” you moaned to him.

The sound of the two of you filled the air around you. Deep grunts and breathless Moans circled into the night. The cool crisp air helped cool the both of you as sweat started building across your skins.

You kissed Az as you picked up the pace. Bring the both of you closer to your ecstasy. He wrapped both of his arms around your torso giving him leverage to relentlessly meet each one of your downwards movements with a forceful thrust of his own causing him to hit that little sweet spot inside of you.

“Cum for me.” He commanded between his moans and cussing.

And you did.

You cried out in pleasure as he finally pushed you over the edge. A blissful and content feeling finally settling over you as you road out your high waiting for the shadowsinger to find his release too.

When he did he pulled your body closer to him wrapping his muscled arms around your body. Hugging you close, with his head in your neck. He kissed your neck a few times as his pace started to slow. You listened to his ragged breathing that was fanning over your skin causing goosebumps to raise across the entirety of your body.

Azriel kissed up your neck and finally claimed your soft lips with his. Kissing you sweetly and passionately, he slowly brought both of his rough scarred hands to rest on your sides. His thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your soft skin. You both didn’t say anything, too high from the release you both very much needed.

Suddenly the sky lit up bright and you looked up. Azriel stayed staring at his beautiful lover. Watching as the bright spirits reflected a soft glow off her eyes. A smile graced his lips as he watched her own grin start taking over her face. He felt something tug deep within him. Some undeniable force connecting the two of you together.

Suddenly something smacked the side of her cheek. There sat upon her rose tinted skin sat the spirit’s glow. when her eyes met hazel ones she giggled. A wondrous sound Azriel deemed to hear for the rest of his life. More spirits passed them, some flying past without a care for the two, while others when they passed by showered the two with their glowing light.

Soon the two lovers were covered with a star-like glow. Staring into eachother eyes they laughed, with bright big smiles.

You leaned forward lining your face to meet Az’s. “Everything will be okay.” You whispered softly to him.

“Everything will be just fine” Az replied as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly.

┆.➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ . ➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ . ➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ ┆ ┆.➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ . ➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ . ➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ ┆ ┆.➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ . ➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ . ➶ ˚ ˚ · • . ° . ˚✧ ┆

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel x reader #shadowsinger x reader #azriel #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #azriel spymaster #spymaster #spymaster x reader #y/n x azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #rhysand #night court

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starlightandsouls · 1 year

Text

Hand In Hand, We Live

A/N: I cannot seem to get off the fluff train you guys, all the sweetness is rotting my brain. I hope you like this small thing. Do let me know what you think of my writing. Please please comment, it keeps me going

Takes place in the 1+1=4 universe but can be read as a standalone

..............................................................................................

Azriel POV...

There had been few things in his long, long life that had been able to bring Velaris’s infamous Shadowsinger to tears. His ruthless attitude and stoicism was what made Azriel so good at his job. There were few people who saw through that mask of his; his brothers, his mother. But even they were always kept at a distance. Then, you came into his life. And oh so slowly you began to chip away that cold exterior of his until he surrendered his heart to you completely.

And just when he had thought his life couldn’t possibly get any better, the Mother had blessed the two of them with twin children, Mikhail and Annalise, their little miracles. Not only because of how rare it was for Fae to conceive, but also because of the hardships they had faced afterwards, mainly Beron and his plotting, miserable ass. Thankfully, that pig had been disposed off soon after. With Eris as High Lord and his alliance with Rhysand, Azriel was assured that their children would grow up in a somewhat safer world.

Their little blessings were almost two years old now, the darlings of not only their parents but also of the entire Inner Circle. Therefore, they were no less spoilt. Like today, Mikhail has been whisked off with Cassian and Rhysand. The two of them often kidnapped their children to buy them more toys than they had space to keep. Anna, however, had been a little moody today, unwilling to go with the uncles she usually doted on. Like her father, she was often overwhelmed with people and needed time to recharge. Since he had nothing to do for the day, he had stayed home with his daughter, even sending you off for some shopping with Feyre and Nesta, knowing you also deserved some time to relax.

Now, as we return to the matter at hand, Azriel rarely cried. The last time he remembered crying was at his mating ceremony and then when his precious children were born. The most recent case of tears, it seemed, would take place today.

After bathing her and feeding her, he had taken her to his room to try and get her to sleep. His little angel seemed particularly restless today. So now Azriel was sitting against the headboard in bed, with his knees pulled up and Anna's back resting against them. No matter, how much time passed he was still amazed by his children, unable to believe that someone like him would be blessed by such perfect miracles. Every time he held Mikhail or looked into Anna’s eyes he teared up.

As he cooed at Anna’s babbles, he tickled her tummy which caused her to erupt into a fit of giggles, the sound more beautiful to him than any symphony ever could be. As he laughed along her, Anna grabbed his hand in hers. The sight made his breath catch. Anytime he saw his marred hands against her smooth, soft skin, he felt like collapsing. The memory of what he had done his entire life resurfaced as he held such innocent children in his arms.

He’s pulled back from his memories as Anna ran her hand across the scars and ridges that riddled his hands; the hideous sight not deterring her one bit. She pulled his hand up with both of hers, turning it over as if seeing it for the first time. Completing her inspection, she put his hand up against her face and rested her hand against his palm, all the time smiling up at him.

Her glistening hazel eyes, mirroring his own, gazing up at him with that gorgeous smile of hers, was enough to bring Azriel to tears. His heart had never felt as full as it did now. He had hated his hands his entire life, finding them too ugly, too sinful to ever accept. Regardless of what his family and his mate had worked to reassure him over the long time he had known them, Azriel still harboured some resentment for his burnt hands. But in this moment, he could swear he had never loved them more than he did now, with his daughter resting against them.

Seeing her father’s tears rolling freely down his face, Anna flicked her head to the side, trying to figure out what was ailing her dad. Being unable to understand, she took matters into her own hands, and crawled over on her father’s chest. Reaching him, she wiped her tiny hands on his face, rubbing away any tears left. Anna then once again smiled up at him, feeling proud of her work. Azriel only shook his head, and pulled her against his chest.

You had come home to find both father and daughter snuggled up together, fast asleep. And when Mikhail returned, the two of you joined them as well. With his family in his arms, what more could Azriel want.

.................................................................................

The next time little Anna made her father cry was when she had turned eight. Even still so young, both his children were exceptionally bright, a fact he took much pride in. Both had their own hobbies that they loved partaking in.

They were currently at the House of Wind, visiting Nesta and Cassian. Mikhail was off play wrestling with Cass while Anna was busy being doted on by her Aunts. Just as he was about to go find Rhysand, Anna ran over to where he was sitting and jumped to his lap.

“Dada I made you something,” Annalise said, gazing up at him with her big, doe eyes, her sweet smile adorning her face.

“Did you, my little star?” he offered in return. Anna nodded her head as she went on,

“I made them with Auntie Gwyn.”

From the pocket of her jacket, she then procures two friendship bracelets. Both of them were identical, consisting of blue (presumably for his siphons) and pink, which was Annalise’s favourite colour. She took his hand in his and tied it around his wrist, putting her own on as well.

Anna then took his hand and put it side by side with hers, admiring her work.

“See, Dada. Now we’re the same,” his little angel said, as if the most obvious thing in the world.

Azriel only wiped away his tears and gave his Anna a reassuring smile,

And the simple statement from his innocent, brilliant daughter was enough to bring tears to his eyes. It was shocking to Azriel how his children found his scars to be as much a part of him as anything else, never finding them hideous or scary. It was true as well. Little Anna had never found them ugly at all. And there was a simple reason for it as well; to her they were just her father’s hands. The same hands which would comfort her during a thunderstorm, the same hands which taught her how to walk and then fly, the same hands that helped her tickle her brother whenever they all sat together. Deep down she knew, even then, that those hands would be the first to catch her whenever she would stumble in life.

“Yes, darling. We’re the same.”

From that day onwards, Azriel wore that bracelet that his daughter made for him every single day. To trainings to meetings to dinners to missions. It was a reminder of his family that waited for him at home, of his daughter who he loved more than his own life. It was a rather disconcerting sight; seeing the feared Shadowsinger wear around a pink bracelet. But the few idiots who had ever questioned him about it, now warned everyone else. Because no one made fun of his daughter’s work and got away with it.

So Azriel continued wearing it, often taking it to Gwyn for repairs when the threads started to fray, because he trusted no one but the expert with this precious item. Seeing it on his wrist everyday would remind him of the unconditional love his children had for him, and the eternal devotion he had to them. Anna and Mikhail taking his hand in theirs for comfort made him slowly let go of his resentment of his scars. Hand in hand, he learned to love and accept them, forever grateful for you and their children for teaching him that everyone deserved to be loved; even the scarred and broken.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #acotar hc #acotar headcanon #azriel headcanon #azriel headcanons #azriel x reader #1+1=4 fic #azriel x you #azriel fluff

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helionmylove · 2 years

Text

Our Future

Fenrys Moonbeam x Reader

Word Count: 2209

Not beta read, we die fae

WARNINGS: Sm*t, br**ding k!nk, fluffy ending, bad writing lol

Summary: my first attempt at writing sm*t, only half of it is sm*t, Fenrys thinks about the future and you two decide it’s time to grow your family.

Fenrys Moonbeam was many things: a fearsome fae warrior, the white wolf of Doranelle, ambassador to Terrasen. But most recently his favorite title is loving mate. Your loving and devoted mate.

Moments like this had quickly become his favorite; you curled up beside him laughing at his dramatic retellings of his day, your warm fingertips dancing up his sculpted chest. He loved hearing your heartbeat, your voice, your breathing. Those onyx eyes watch you intently. Everything about you has captured his heart and his soul. Right now he has everything he could ever want. Well almost everything.

A thought kept creeping into his mind. A thought of you and him raising a child together. He could picture you with a hand on your belly, round with his child, as he teaches your eldest child how to properly hold a knife, while your soon-to-be-middle child bounced on his knee. He wanted a big family. He knew it was rare for fae, and hated how dangerous it was, but he couldn’t help but want it.

“Where’s your mind at?” You pinched his side to get his attention. “Are you even listening to anything I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, my love.” He kisses your pout. “Just thinking about the future.”

“Our future?” You propped yourself up on your elbow. “What does it entail?”

“Have you ever thought about children?” His golden brown fingers twirling around your hair.

“I have. Have you?”

“I have.” He hummed his response, his thumb trailing over your lower lip.

“And where do you stand on the topic?” You place a gentle kiss to the pad of his thumb.

“It’s something I want. Not immediately, of course.”

“Oh of course.”

“What is with the sarcasm, sweet girl?” He pouts.

“You say it with such certainty, I just think it’s funny.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to rush anything if you are content with how we are now.”

“Fenrys, I am content.” You gently brush his hair from his face. “But, I’m also ready to take this next step.”

Something sparked in Fenrys’ chest. An amused growl fell from his lips and he took hold of your hips, pinning you beneath him. “Shall we get started then?”

“Gladly,” you lean up, catching his lips in yours.

Fenrys kisses the way he lives: wildly and passionately. You swore you could get drunk on kissing him, the softness of his lips combined with his scent flooding your senses was entirely intoxicating. Your hands travel up his shirtless back to tangle in his long golden hair. He releases a satisfied groan, his own large hands creeping up your sides.

He pushes a powerful thigh between your own, pressing it right against the apex of your thighs. A soft whimper slips from your mouth into his. Fenrys grinds his thigh into that oh so sensitive spot, swallowing the moans that flow from your lips as he teases you.

“Fenrys,” you whine, grinding your hips against his leg. “Please.”

“What do you want, sweet girl? Hm?” You can tell by how tight his voice is he’s having difficulty restraining himself. “Tell me what you want and I’ll happily give it to you.”

“You. Your cock. Please Fenrys I need it.”

“Good girl,” he growls, making quick work of your nightgown.

Fenrys felt feral. Within seconds his lips were on your collarbone, nipping and sucking dark bruises. One hand snakes down your body, gently settling between your legs, teasing your covered clit. His lips travel between your breasts as you grip his hair with one hand and the sheets with the other. Your hips buck and you can feel him smirking against your skin.

“Relax, Darling. Let me take care of you.” His skillful fingers pushed your panties aside, the calloused tip of his finger rubbing gentle circles on your most sensitive area. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

Your moans were like music to his ears, and he was determined to make it louder. Nothing spurs him on quite like the way you beg for him. Slowly he moved his finger away from your clit, pushing it into your tight pussy. He bit his lip at the feeling of your soft, wet walls clenching around his finger.

“Always so tight, my darling.” He added another finger, relishing in the way your hand tightened in his hair. His lips trailed back up your chest, dancing over your neck, settling against your jaw just below your ear. He continued his two-fingered assault on your cunt. “Such a good girl for me, always so wet.”

“Fenrys, please.” You whine loudly, legs clenching around his hand. “Need more.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” His fingers slipped from your hole. The way he chuckled when you whined at the loss made you want to slap him.

But the way he slid down your body and rested your thighs on his shoulders made up for it.

Only to be ruined again by him ripping your panties.

“Fenrys Moonbeam-” You started, cut off by a bruising grip on your hips.

“Y/N Moonbeam,” he teased. “I will buy you all the pretty little underthings you want, but there is really no need for you to wear them. They only slow me down.”

Before you could object his tongue was lapping at the wetness between your folds. Your back arched off the bed as he feasted like a male starved. His nose nudged at your clit as he curled his tongue. Your fingers gripped his hair harshly, as he moved on to suck on your clit. Fenrys growled in satisfaction as your legs tightened around his head. He slipped his fingers back into you, thrusting them quickly as he continued sucking. Back arching, legs shaking, you were so damn close. You just needed a little more. And he knew, this bastard knew but he was having so much fun watching you whimper and squirm.

“Fenrys, please.” You were on the verge of tears now as he dragged a fang along your clit. “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.”

He moved his fingers to massage that spot inside you that made you see stars. Finally, your release hit you. He continued sucking your sensitive little nub even as you tried to pull away, forcing you to ride out your orgasm, only stopping once your breathing evened out.

Fenrys gripped your hips harshly before flipping you onto your stomach. His touch turned gentle as he ran his hand over your ass, soon followed by a harsh smack. Always wickedly playful. Gentle kisses trailed up your spine, spreading your legs with his own. He grabbed a pillow, lifting your hips and sliding it beneath you. He leaned back on his knees, taking in the sight before him. You waited, listening to how ragged his breathing had become.

Without warning, that bruising grip was back on your hips, pulling you to him. He removed a hand, using it to guide himself into you. A single powerful thrust and he was sheathed inside you. You both moaned together, savoring the moment. He thought he might finish right then and there from the way you were squeezing his cock. You thought you might faint from the sheer size of him - it never failed to catch you off guard. You rock your hips back into his, signaling him to start.

Using his grip on your hips for leverage, he began pounding into you. He slowly lost his composure with every thrust. Each movement was rougher than the last. Fenrys kissed up your spine again before burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath on your neck, his groans in your ear, his weight pushing you into the bed, his cock buried deep inside you; he took over every single one of your senses. Each powerful thrust had you seeing stars.

“You take me so well,” He ground out, his pace picking up. “That’s my good girl. Always so good for me.”

“Like being good for you,” you moaned. “Feel so good, so full.”

“You’re gonna be all full, baby girl. Gonna fuck you full of my cum.”

He shifted your hips for a deeper angle. Your scream of pleasure spurred him on. His fangs pierced your neck, tying you to him. His fingers slipped to your clit, toying with that little bundle of nerves. Your second orgasm of the night overtook you and that was all he needed, his own release crashing into him. His thrusts grew sloppy as you both rode out your orgasm.

He stilled for a moment, breathing heavily in your ear.

“Fen?” You whisper through your pants.

He moved his hips slowly. “Not done, not yet. Not stopping until you're knocked up.”

“Fen,” You let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” He growls, rolling his hips. “Say the word and I stop. Otherwise, we’re going all night.”

You didn’t object.

——————

Two and a half months had passed. You and Fenrys had been invited to dinner with Aelin, Rowan, Elide, Lorcan, Aedion, and Lysandra. It was something Aelin wanted to start doing more often, calling it a “family dinner”. To her dismay, Elide and Lorcan were tied up in Perranth, and Aedion and Lysandra were just finishing up an argument and weren’t inclined to leave their home. Meaning it would just be you and Fenrys joining them tonight. Fenrys, of course, wasn’t thrilled as it got in the way of his nightly routine of fucking you into the mattress.

You did the last button on his jacket, dodging his lips as he leaned in to kiss you.

“We are not going to be late just because you’re sex obsessed.”

“I cannot believe my dear mate is so cruel.” He threw his head back in exasperation.

“Fenrys, need I remind you we went five rounds last night?” You teased, straightening his collar.

“So, we should beat that by going ten tonight.” His hands held your hips as he turned you to face the mirror, bending to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Would be fun.”

“I’m sure it would be, but I want to see our friends. You and your cock aren’t getting in the way of that.”

“You wound me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him from the room. He followed quickly, draping his arm around your shoulders.

“You should have worn your other cloak, you’re going to freeze.” He scolded as you stepped into the bitter cold outside your small warm home, rubbing your shoulder to make you warmer.

“It’s a short walk, are you going to fuss the whole way?” You laughed, cuddling into his side as you walked.

And sure enough, he did. First it was your cloak, then it was your boots, then your nose was getting red. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he kept worrying over you even as you entered the dining room where Aelin and Rowan were waiting.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Rowan swore the second you two walked in. Aelin only laughed.

“Well, hello to you too, Brother.” Fenrys took your cloak and pulled out a chair for you. “What’s crawled up your ass?”

“Something to tell us?” Aelin asked, sharing a knowing look with her mate.

“No?” Fenrys’ face contorted adorably in confusion.

“Do you not know?” Rowan’s shit-eating grin told you everything you needed to know.

“No, he doesn’t. He hasn’t given me a chance to tell him yet.” You hummed, taking Fenrys’ hand in your own to play with his fingers.

Fenrys turned to you so fast you thought he'd get whiplash, “what are you not telling me?”

“You really don’t smell it, Pup?” Rowan was really enjoying this.

You could see the puzzle pieces clicking together in Fenrys’ mind. He gripped your hand tighter, eyes darting from your face to your belly as if he was expecting something to be there.

“Are you…?” Your responding nod was all he needed.

Fenrys started tearing up. He shot from his chair, kneeling before you and smiling up at you. You leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before whispering, “you’re going to be a father.”

The sweet moment was interrupted by Aelin’s teasing, “You two better make us the godparents.”

Fenrys wiped his eyes and retook his seat, grinning like a mad man. He pulled your chair closer to his, draping an arm around the back of it.

“You’re going to become unbearable aren’t you?” You poked him in the ribs.

“Darling, is that even a question? Aelin, do you think Yrene will be available?”

“It’s a bit soon for that, my love.”

“Nonsense.”

“I hate to say it, Fenrys is right.” Rowan commented, watching intently as Fenrys shoveled food on your plate. “She needs more protein.”

Fenrys nodded, adding more fish and lentils to your plate.

“Oh don’t you start,” you scolded Rowan.

“Fae pregnancies are dangerous.” He shot back.

“You have your own mate to worry about,” you gestured to Aelin who shook her head.

“Leave me out of this. I’m not the pregnant one and I’m glad these two are focusing on someone else.” The queen teased as she picked at the food on her plate. You two shared a look, overprotective fae bastards.

It was going to be a long pregnancy, that’s for sure.

#fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #throne of glass #tog x reader #throne of glass x reader #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #fenrys moonbeam smut

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hanafubukki · 9 months

Text

Random thoughts:

Ever think how fae children might be rare so when malleus, silver, and sebek was born…

The fae had no idea what to do and how to raise them?? Because it’s been such a long time since children were taken care of??

Mama Zigvolt had her husband to help her raise the kids.

But then you have malleus and silver…who were raised by Lilia…

And can you imagine the chaos??

Malleus is sturdy because fae and dragon but imagine what that means?? And the horrors he could have seen?? While he was under Lilia’s care??

Then you have Silver who is soft and squishy and easily hurt, so you can tell alarm bells went off in Malleus’ and Mama Zigvolt’s head.

I don’t know why but just…the thought of how rare children are to the fae race has been in loop in my head recently. The fact they are rare and thus treated preciously even more so.

…then you give them to Lilia Vanrouge and I wonder who thought that was a good idea…

Though it was probably as a way to ground him, keep him in the now, so he doesn’t get lost in his thoughts and grief….aaannnds Ill stop there before I go into that spiral 😅

#hanas thoughts #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twst silver

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squidwen · 2 years

Text

💖Make it Pink, Make it Blue💙

(Ft: Platonic Lilia Vanrouge (and briefly Malleus, Sebek, and Silver.) )

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Inspired by this Vine at 3:39

Summary: After your sleep-deprived bad attitude seems to offend the legendary Lilia Vanrouge, you are challenged to the classic fae game of ‘Make it Pink, Make it Blue’.

The only condition is that Lilia cannot use his fae powers to gain an advantage. With the playing field levelled, what are the chances you’ll actually vanquish the ex-warrior?

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The cafeteria was a soup of sounds and smells as you heaped sugar onto your cereal in a bid to wake yourself up. Grim had tossed and turned all night long, kicking you so many times from his spot on the mattress that you only got about four hours of proper rest…and it showed.

Fatigue throbbed from behind your eyes. Suddenly, a cascade of breadcrumbs fell onto your tray. You thought you were hallucinating until a dollop of jam landed in your coffee cup. Sighing, you craned your neck up.

“Fufufu~” mused Lilia, scarfing his last bite of toast. His oversized coat draped about his head as he dangled upside down, forming a funnel where only his sharp red eyes, and mischievous smile, were visible. Eyes, and teeth, and darkness. You briefly wondered if those were the last things his old enemies saw…

“With respect, Lilia…do you mind?” That coffee had been your only hope for a decent morning. Now strawberry jam – with what looked like pieces of chilli peppers and olives – was marinading in it.

“Sorry about that, dear. But you can still drink it. I made the jam myself and – not to sing my own praises – it’s probably my best batch yet.”

A slow blink was all you could muster.

Sensing something was amiss, Lilia unhooked his legs from the ceiling beam and free-fell towards you, flipping himself upright before landing elegantly. His heels clacked against the graffitied dining table in punctuation.

“You look like my Silver with a face like that,” he said, leaning down to pinch your cheek through his massive coat cuff. You winced and shirked him away. “But at least he’s mastered the art of sleeping when he needs to. What time did you go to bed?”

“Stupid O’clock.”

Lilia sprang back up and laughed. “Oh, come now. Human children your age should be able to handle that every now and again. You’re in your prime after all.”

You grit your teeth. “But we’re not blessed with eternal youth like some people.”

Lilia stopped giggling. Sly as a lynx, the old fae took a step towards you. His shoe knocked against your tray, making the crockery clatter like clashing swords. “We are cranky this morning, aren’t we.” You gulped. Around you, the breakfast hubbub drained away; colours and shapes lost their clarity as those piercing eyes dug into your skin, investigated your soul.

“When I was in my prime I spoke the same way to a commanding officer once. I still have the scars.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Oh, don’t be.” Lilia stooped, inches from your face. “We aren’t living in those times anymore, but such insolence cannot go unaddressed. So how about you atone by entertaining me with a game, and a wager?”

Alarm bells went off inside your head. A fae was offering to play a game with you? You knew from Magical History not to take him up on it. While not all fae were tricksy and cruel, they loved bargains and games and rarely played fair with each other, let alone with humans that were naïve and weaker.

“Have you ever played ‘Make it Pink, Make it Blue?’” Lilia pressed.

You shook your head.

Lilia’s delicate fingers slid inside his waistcoat pocket and drew out two felt-tip pens. “It’s a game inspired by the enchanted colour-changing dress of Princess Aurora. Each player has to mark their opponent as many times as they can throughout the day while saying ‘make it pink’ or ‘make it blue’ depending on what colour they’re using. The winner is the one with the least amount of marks at the end of the day.”

You stared at the pens, then raised your eyebrow at your upperclassman. “And as for the wager?”

“I usually breakfast in Diasomnia, but the ceiling beams are coated in so much dust at the moment. Not ideal for dangling in a black uniform, hmm?” You hummed back in agreement. “And judging by those bags under your eyes, you’ve got a lot of sleep debt to catch up on. So, if you win, I can procure you a potion that ensures you get ten hours of sleep per night for a month, no matter how noisy, cold, or uncomfortable the space around you is. But if you lose…”

“I…dust the Diasomnia ceiling beams.”

Lilia clapped his hands mockingly.

It was risky, but did you really want one of the most ruthless and wise fairies in the world holding a grudge against you? You could tough-out Sebek’s wrath, but Lilia was a whole different ball game - one that had no rules, and no victors except himself.

“On one condition,” you said, reaching for the pink pen.

“Name it.”

“You cannot use your superior fae abilities to win. No flying, glamour, super speed, super sense, or bat henchmen.”

Lilia uncapped the blue pen and stuck it behind his furred ear. “Agreed. The game starts at nine and ends at three. En guard, Prefect.”

•~•~•~•

Your paranoia had you checking under every table and behind every door. You were predator and prey, hunter and hunted, instinctive and calculating. Adrenaline surged through you, fuelling you enough to keep you focused despite your lack of sleep.

Despite seeing Lilia a few times during the first hour, you hadn’t plucked up the courage to make a move. As you observed him, it was pleasing to see his feet always planted firmly on the ground – as per the terms of your agreement. You checked yourself over in windows and mirrors to see if he’d marked you without you noticing, but to your surprise you’d managed to stay clean as a whistle all morning.

It was only at lunch that you got your first opportunity…

The Diasomnias preferred to dine at the table closest to the fireplace in the cafeteria. You had gotten there early and squeezed yourself underneath, hugging your knees into your chest to make yourself as small as possible.

Before long you were sounded by a forest of pressed trouser legs. Lilia’s weren’t hard to distinguish with the shorter hems. Like a viper, you coiled back and struck. “Make it pink!” you cried. The students jerked back, their surprise a perfect cover for you to slip away.

Sebek screamed after you, but Lilia laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair. The thick strip of pink ink coating his ankle transfixed him. Malleus’s fork hovered just shy of his lips, piqued in an amused smirk. His Child of Man was so full of surprises.

Lilia pushed himself up off the bench and took off after you. His legs twitched with the urge to levitate, but a deal was a deal.

And now that you’d gotten the ball rolling your fate was sealed.

•~•~•~•

Throughout the day, Lilia sprang out of lockers, jumped down from shelves, and even vaulted over people you were chatting with to land a blow. But he was slow, bordering on clumsy from never having trained in such a weakened state. With your pen already uncapped, you dodged and swiped, managing to nick his clothes and skin most of the time.

The corridors were alive with your cacophony – “Make it pink – Make it blue,” back and forth, back and forth.

Malleus chuckled at the spectacle. His fae senses were still in tune, so when he felt you coming he started talking to Lilia as a distraction. His help was cancelled out by Sebek constantly warning his vice dorm leader to your presence, but sometimes Malleus sent him off on an errand to lend you a hand.

Three o’clock came around faster than you’d expected. Passing Scarabia students said you looked like the Genie at the sight of your blue skin. Lilia only got more respectful treatment thanks to his status around school, but everyone thought he looked like a piglet.

It all ended where it began. You rendezvoused with the fae in the dining room, and the first thing he did once the hour struck was jump ten feet in the air, backflip, and land on one finger like he’d recovered from a long injury.

Show-off, you thought. Silver had tagged along to count your marks. He’d gotten the gist of what was going on from Sebek’s rants and looked ready to drop at any moment.

“I’ve counted and recounted,” he said sleepily.

“The marks or sheep?” you quipped.

Silver deadpanned. “And…(Y/N), you scored fifteen points, and father- Lilia, you scored…thirteen.”

A moment of stale silence passed.

Lilia dropped his pen, and his jaw. He turned. Slow. Painfully slow.

Your heart was in your throat as he stalked forward, dainty fingers suddenly tangling with yours and squeezing them tightly. You tensed. Was he going to be a sore loser and break your hand? Or enchant you like the legends warned? No. Lilia’s face was a masterpiece of elation, executed perfectly by his innocent features. You allowed yourself breath.

“For the first time in centuries…I am vanquished!”

Silver scooted off before he could get swept up in any of this. Lilia didn’t care that he hadn’t dismissed him. He only had eyes for you, his worthy adversary.

“You’re not upset?” you asked cautiously.

“Upset? My dear (Y/N) I never was!”

“But, this morning-“

“It takes more than a bit of cheek to rile me. No, you see, I had to find some excuse to test your mettle. Malleus has been spending so much time with you that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And history was made today! Never before has a human from another world played a fae child game, and never before has one beaten me at anything…if I didn’t let them.”

Relief bulldozed through your veins, expelling all your adrenaline. The tiredness came back. Heavier than before. Lilia’s face softened at your drooping eyelids and he clicked his fingers. A glass flask filled with a lavender liquid appeared in your free hand. “As promised.”

Part of you still couldn’t believe you’d won. Here it was, your reward!

“Bottom’s up. It should kick in when you fall asleep naturally tonight.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Popping the cork, you glugged the whole potion in one breath. It was sweet and spicy, like strawberry milk seasoned with peppercorns.

You were about to pass the flask back when your vision switched off and your legs turned to jelly.

Lilia’s restored reflexes made him catch you before you hit the flagstones. “Or…it’ll take effect immediately. I do apologise. I still get confused to this day with finer details of certain potions.”

You head lolled to the side, sending a few droplets of the potion dribbling down from the side of your mouth like milk. So much for the fae-vanquisher you’d been moments prior. You were no different to a baby now!

All the years spent raising Silver had taught Lilia to be silent in the presence of a sleeping human, but he couldn’t keep it in. The irony was too much! Cackles, and giggles, and tears of hysteria burst out of him as he teleported you back to your bedroom.

Peeling back the bed covers, Lilia slid your serene form into bed. But before he bid you adieu he had a wicked idea. The game may have been over, but fae will be fae and he couldn’t pass this opportunity up. Snapping his fingers, his pen reappeared in his pocket as he cupped your face, wondering if he should draw glasses or a moustache on it.

Or both.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Author’s note:

This scenario has been on my mind for months. Dang it Thomas Sanders and your Disney Pranks! 😂😂😂

I hope you enjoyed the fic. As always, drop an ask if you have a specific scenario you want written, and comments, reblogs, and follows are always appreciated!

- Squidwen xx

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #squidwen #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #reader x twisted wonderland #twst lilia #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x mc

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rentenesen · 5 months

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Woven - Chapter 1

Gale x Astarion BG3 fanfiction

This is one my first times dabbling in fanfiction and my first time posting anything like this. Was inspired by the Profession Dekarios comics posted by @ssalballoon

Summary: Set in alternate universe, modern day, exploring a world where fae exist (non-dnd). Gale, once a very special child with the ability to see fae, is now a regular almost middle aged man, working as a professor. Bored by his life and unable to let go of the life he once had, Gale struggles with the guilt of how he got here. That is until a strange, pale man appears at his doorstep and Gale is once again pulled back into the world of magick, unaware of what dangers lay ahead.

Word Count: 1.7k This chapter is mostly just set up! Astarion does not appear but is mentioned briefly. I welcome any tips on posting/corrections for how I'm formatting things. Hope you enjoy! ______________________________________________________________

Many children dream of being something greater than they are. How could they not, growing up getting lost in movies and books of fantastical worlds; little boys and girls setting off on journeys through otherworldly realms, adventuring towards their calling, towards their destiny, the chosen ones. Gale Dekarios was that child.

Before he even knew what was happening or how to vocalize it Gale knew that magick was real and alive; even in the city where nature was sometimes rare. He remembered being maybe four years old walking down the street holding hands with his mother, the trees bending in their little cages along the sidewalk, facing forming and melting into the bark, whispers layered in the noise and bustle of the afternoon. Looking back he could see how someone not accustomed to such oddities might see it as twisted and nightmarish but children have no context for the world. To Gale this has always been the way of things. The faces in the trees were like little friends popping out to greet him. The people he would see on the street, impossibly tall, green skin, long fingers, eyes alight they were simply, strangers, out and about, going through their own mundane lives.

Sometimes he would point out these strange happenings to his mother with a giggle or or a question, asking her why that man had spikes down his back or laughing at the silly blue hair floating around the woman on the train, like a jelly fish. His mother would smile down at him, eyebrow raised, and tell him what a creative little boy he was; seldom answering his questions. Sometimes though she would and she would huddle close to him and they would talk about all the wonderful things Gale had seen that day. He now knows she was just playing along, encouraging his "stories" blind to the world around them that was so open and inviting to him.

He remembered his father was a bit less indulgent when Gale would speak of such things. Often eyeing him with a soft stoic look and letting out a little sigh in response. Gale wondered if his father thought of his child as simply being a little "out there" for his own tastes or if he was genuinely concerned. Had his parents ever talked about taking Gale to a doctor? Maybe they should have, but he's glad they never followed through if they did. Gale was not sure how we would have navigated trying to prove he wasn't loosing his mind, especially being the only one who could see what he could.. perhaps they would have convinced him it was all in his mind. How different his life might have turned out then. Either way, he quickly caught on as he got older and started going to school that something about him, about the way he saw the world, was not "normal" and he wised up and stopped talking about it.

He would still write about it though, late at night, exploring his theories, pouring over books in the school libraries feverishly, anything he could get his hands on to learn more about this strange world he seemed to be a part of in some way. He soon learned that the creatures he saw were called fae and he fell deeper and deeper into the study of them. And not just that. There was a time where he had been accepted by them. There was a time when he would dance in the middle of the forrest at night, lavish parties, tender friends, secrets of magick revealed, and even gifted. Gale Dekarius was once a very special boy who lived an impossibly exciting and charmed life. And now he stood in front of his bathroom cabinet mirror, groggy with bags accentuating his eyes, even through he had been dead asleep for the past nine hours. He was pushing forty, his messy beard and unkempt hair making him look even older. He was washed up, he was exhausted.

Regardless, he still had responsibilities so Gale splashed some water on his face and got to trimming his facial hair. His life was not horrible by any means. Gale was a home owner, a rarity more and more these days, of a charming two-story house, with a little back garden and a gate that lead out to a walking trail. and he had a very secure job, an esteemed one even. The title of professor did come with some respect and gave him plenty of time to indulge in how own studies. His parent lived close by and he could often stop in for an afternoon lunch or have them over, not that they stayed too long these days. His father's health had been getting worse and it was a bit more comfortable for them in their own home. Still, his mother would try to come visit regularly, even if it was only her, making occasional use of his spare room, which had become a guest room since his roommate had moved out. Gale wondered when she would be back, his best friend, his confidant, she had left almost a year ago now. He had seen her occasionally since then when she popped back into town, but missed her presence and company around the house. It felt a little too quiet these days, and nights he stayed up reading in the library a little too lonely, without her chastising him for not being in bed or forgetting to eat again. Now he had to keep his life together on his own and felt like he was failing miserably. ___

After fixing up his face Gale threw on a button up from his clean laundry pile, noticed it was a little too wrinkled to look professional, and swapped it for a turtle neck. He'd have to throw it back in the dryer for a bit before wearing it. Maybe he'd actually hang it up in time too, instead of leaving it for days to get wrinkled again. He really should invest in more of those wrinkle-proof shirts, he thought, throwing a blazer on over his sweater.

He stumbled downstairs, his briefcase where he had left it the night before, sitting in on the bench of his dining nook. He popped a piece of bread in the toaster, flicked on the kettle and checked the clock. On time, he sighed in relief, looks like today will go smoothly, he thought.

His phone rang, startling him a little bit and he looked at the caller id. His mother, they talked often but it was unusual for her to call him this early on a school day.

"Hey, Mom" he said, only having to fake his cheery demeanour a little. "How are you this morning?"

"Oh, I'm just wonderful, dear, did you sleep alright" Gale held his tongue, he had always been a night owl and even as an adult it seemed he would never live it down.

"Yes, I did, I slept a lot actually, must of needed it. To what do I own the pleasure of your call mom, is everything okay with dad?"

"Ah yes, it is, didn't mean to concern you, we're both just fine, I'm actually calling because I just wanted to let you know, I've been watching the news this morning and it seems there's something going on in your neighbourhood."

"Oh?" Gale replied, only half listening as he tucked his phone against his shoulder so he could get good grip to butter his toast "What's this?"

"Well your neighbour, Mrs. Wilson, mentioned last time I was over, that something had been rummaging around in her yard" His mother, while a lovely woman, could be quiet the talker, just like Gale himself. He moved on to preparing his tea in a to-go cup, eyeing the clock, hoping she would reach the point soon.

"I see"

"Well and now, I'm seeing on the news more people are noticing it seems like an animal has been prowling around. I just thought I should warn you. Have you seen anything like that?"

Gale thought about it for a moment, but he knew he was not always the most perceptive about those things, "I don't think I have Mom, but I will keep an eye out."

"I trust you will, I just worry about you, you know, want to make sure you're keeping safe"

Gale smiled, softly a little sadly "I am Mom, I love you. Wish we could talk longer but I have to get to school"

"Okay, love you too sweetheart, give me a call back this week"

"I will"

Gale grabbed a paper towel to put his toast on, scooped up his tea and his briefcase, then headed out the door to his car. Before he got in, fumbling with his keys he took a quick look around his street. Had he seen anything? Was there anything amiss? He couldn't tell. He had left the garbage bins out too long, he would have to bring them in tonight but they were upright, undisturbed by prying paws. He shrugged and got into his car, heading off for work.

Curious he turned on the radio, seeing if his local channel had anything to say. It took a few minutes but sure enough, they mentioned it. An animal, they presumed, had wandered into town from the woods. They said residents in the area should be alert and keep all pets indoors. Gale wasn't too worried. He was sure he had seen a lot worse in his lifetime after all, and he knew all he had to do to scare away a lost little creature was to make himself look big and shout loudly. They're more scared of you than you are of them, he thought; he wondered what kind of beast they had strolling the streets, looking for a snack.

No one had caught a good sight of it so far, just the messes it had left behind. The only mention someone made of actually seeing something was in the bushes of their back yard. They had heard a noise, noticed a rustling when they went to investigate and quickly, shown a light on it they had seen a quick flash of red, animal eyes staring back at them; most likely a trick of the light. The thing darted off before the neighbour could get better look at it.

Chucking to himself about how worked up everyone was getting about the situation, Gale hoped at least this might be something interesting. Maybe if he was lucky he himself could see the little fox, or whatever it was, running through his own back yard.

#astarion #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bloodweave #gale x astarion #astarion x gale #astarion ancunin #fanfic #fantasy #alternate universe #slow burn #fae #enemies to friends to lovers #faerie

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tiredflowercrown · 4 months

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it's delicate but i will do my best (to seem bulletproof)

My dearest darlingest boy must finally see the world. And so he shall.

People think being dumb is easy. That you can just breeze through life without any worries. Oh you would never be moving up but you also wouldn’t move down. Not when you are at Chad’s station. That assumption isn’t correct. Not when you are Heir Apparent of the Kingdom of Sardinia.

His entire life had been training for the throne, for being the sole ruler of one of the most powerful kingdoms in Auradon. It wasn’t until he was twelve and little miracle baby Chole was born, that there was any doubt about his future. Now, even as he was eighteen and she was six, there were rumors of the crown going to her instead.

Chad wasn’t entirely stupid, he knew that he would never be the best. Never have the best grades or be the most popular. He knew that most people thought of him as some sort of dumb dolt who only did Audrey’s bidding. And perhaps he was. But it still didn’t change the fact that Sardinia, his kingdom and his people, were his number one priority. If it had to make the choice between his longest oldest friend and his people, there would be no question. No hesitation.

Everyone just looked at him and saw nothing. Lights on but no one’s home they would say. They didn’t see the mountains of paperwork he sorted though weekly, or all the proposals that he had helped his parents send to King Adam. He had sat by his parents side, forever waiting for a budge, for the sliver of hope to be given breath. His dear mother had always been too kind, and the high king too harsh. So when news came of others, they took the small fracture, the small what if, and rejoiced.

His pushback against the initial villain kids had been purely selfish. Why them? Why the ones that no one had asked for? No Tremaines or the Gothel girl? No one who any kingdom had wanted off had gotten off of the Isle, Queen Snow had warmed up and began to love Evie but that didn’t negate that she had never wanted her off the Isle beforehand.

It wasn’t til afterwards that Chad found out that Ben had never known about any of the motions to get children off the Isle before his proclamation. That Ben thought he was alone in his wishes. Chad had sealed his fate due to his pettiness, until Dizzy got off he would never get a chance to get close or apologize or explain that they did have allies. Just another thing that silly stupid Chad Charming had screwed up. Another reason to give the crown elsewhere.

People rarely looked at him and saw his parents. They saw the spoiled greedy prince, a harold of the old times. Someone who didn’t care who he hurt as long as he was on top. Someone who’s wealth and position mattered more than the people they were supposed to serve. They often forget that kind does not mean nice.

All he would ever be to the general public, to high society at large would be Chad Charming, the pretty boy with much to him.

But to his kingdom, his people, his Sardinia. He was Crown Prince Chadwick Geoffrey Theodore Nikolai Denzil Anastasius William François Reginald Leopold Hamnet James, heir to the throne of Sardinia, the kingdom of kindness, of the wish fae. That’s what mattered most to him. To carry on his parents legacy in the best way that he could, even with the bridges he’s burned, Chad will do his best to continue further into a golden age.

#disney descendants #sals isle lore #chad charming

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 22 hours

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Lich-Queen pt 2

Read pt 1 here

At the ground floor, the guests were already thronging. Vampire nobles sipped goblets of blood, chatting idly with the few fae that deigned to grace my crowning with their presence. Shapeshifters mingled with the Chosen emissaries of the gods. Even a small contingent of elves lurked mistrustfully in a corner, though there was not a human in sight.

I approached the elves, casting a slight glamour to obscure my fiendish appearance. It would not do to frighten them off, after all. “Hello, distinguished guests,” I said in Syvniqian, their native tongue. I had brushed up on my linguistics during those long, lonely nights whilst my sister flirted in court, and it finally paid off.

The lead elf, resplendent in a museli veil and robe-dress, long braid trailing the floor, said, “We appreciate the invitation, Lich-Queen. It is a rare honour to witness the rising of a new star. We are Saivere, Vice-Councilman of Sylvandor.”

My smile must have slipped when I heard that they only bothered to send the Vice-Councilman, for Saivere quickly added, “We mean no offense, Lich-Queen. Head-Councilwoman Naibara is currently with child, and she cannot undertake the journey to these lands.”

I forced a smile back onto my face. This was not the Ceredellian court, I reminded myself sternly. These people did not shun me for being low-born, for having not-quite-human features or a far more beautiful sister. When they said they meant no offense, they did not lie.

Nodding, I exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the delegation, before extricating myself. I could not show favouritism as a host, naturally.

Oh, by Astril, I was a host at a court party! It gave me a thrill, and I wanted to giggle like a little girl, which was a most undignified look on a powerful Lich-Queen.

I had to quickly cover it when a shapeshifter approached me. The shifter wore the body of an angel, wings the colour of salmon, hair twisted into a bun, and seemed vaguely masculine. He smiled and bobbed his head in a small bow. “Our leader politely requests your attention. She would like to speak to you regarding some international matters,” he said.

I nodded. “Thank you,” I told the shifter, turning to follow him through the hall. “Might you tell me what I may call you?”

Names were a touchy business, I had found, especially amongst inhumans. Elves, by and large, tolerated the use of their name by an equal or superior, but shifters and spirits were extremely prickly about the matter, often insisting on going by titles and nicknames instead.

The shifter paused and titled his head to a side. “Ya know, I haven't quite thought about it,” he said, a hint of an accent creeping into his voice. “I was thinking Hashbrown, perhaps. Or Chocolate-cookie. Or maybe Cake. I do love human foodstuffs.”

I barely hid my wince. It was hard to tell a shifter's age, what with the whole shapeshifting, but this one? Yeah, he was a kid. And nobody, not even a kid, deserved to be saddled with a name like Cookie. At the same time… It was hilarious.

Amusement won over kindness, and I said, “Why, I am certain a powerful shifter warrior named Cake would shake fear into the hearts of any human who heard it,” I said wryly. “By the time you are fully grown, the mere mention of chocolate will frighten children into silence.”

“Ya really think so?!” He beamed at me. “My sis’ always tol' me I'd be a fool to call myself that. I'm so glad she was just teasin' me. Oh, thank you so much!” He briefly moved to embrace me, then remembered who I was and backed off, hand kept by his sides, though his wings were all aflutter.

The sudden breach of decorum should have irritated me, but it didn't. It made me feel slightly bad about messing with this overly-earnest kid. “I advise something like Brown, or Cho, however. Just to keep things subtle,” I suggested, trying to minimise the damage I was doing to this kid's credibility.

The shifter considered my words. Then a smile lit up his face. I meant that quite literally. In fact, he rather glowed, attracting curious glances. “Hash,” he announced. “You can call me Hash.”

“Sure, Hash,” I replied, smiling slightly. “Please, lead the way.”

He marched off towards the back of the hall, and I followed, appreciating how my guests moved aside to let me pass. I had always been the one doing the moving, in the past. They bowed and scuttled, my ghouls mingling amongst them, holding trays of hor d'oeuvres. Idly, I plucked one and put it in my mouth, savouring the explosion of salty roe.

The shifters were lounging in a corner, their leader a tall woman with the claws of a Lich and the greying skin of a ghoul. She rose when I approached, her mouth spreading into a sepulchral grin. “It is an honour to witness your coronation, Lich-Queen. Such an honour, that I have taken a Lich-form to honour your people,” she explained. “I hope I have done it justice.”

Looking at the gems encrusted on her high cheekbones and those eyes like shards of diamond, I could only say, “You have.”

She was beautiful, with her long limbs and elegant toga. Suddenly, I felt like an awkward girl-child, struggling to stitch cloth whilst my sister was given lessons by the High Magician. Useless. Ugly. Unwanted.

I shook my head and dropped my human guise. “I appreciate the effort,” I said, taking control of my tongue. “Now, what was the matter you wished to speak with me about?”

The shifter spread her hands and smiled. “This is the first gathering of inhumans in millennia. I hoped to ask you to call a meeting of us immortals. I have a… Proposal, of sorts. One that might be impolite to be mentioned in the presence of our elven siblings.”

I nodded, and tapped the sides of my face in the shifter gesture of agreement. “Certainly. If I may know what the matter is first, of course.” It would not do for them to surprise me before my new allies.

The shifter reciprocated my movements, and said, “We would like to suggest an alliance of all the immortals — to band together and reclai-”

The doors slammed open. I startled, missing the rest of the shifter's words. “Welcome Her Majesty, the Third Spirit Empress! The great Sucsu'anane No-clan has arrived,” Blood-toil, my doorman, announced, halting all conversation within the room.

Empress Sucsu'anane stood in to the fore, and… Well, I hated to say it, but she looked like a little girl playing at Queen. Her crown barely reached Blood-toil's elbow, and he was not a tall ghoul. Her eyes were wide and doll-like, their effect only exacerbated by her oversized dress, which spilled onto the floor. “Hello, sisters,” she said with an atrocious accent, pronouncing her ‘r’s like ‘e’s. “It is I.”

#writeblr #writing #my writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writing community #spilled ink #fantasy #short story

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lorcandidlucienwill · 4 months

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The Bastard of Doranelle: Lorcan's origin story @alice-bad-thoughts @yoddhasblog you two got me thinking so ofc i started writing shit lol. ima write more tmrw but this is the first part.

Over 500 years ago There was an infant dropped on the streets. Unfortunately, it was far from an unusual circumstance. Whores often gave birth to children they could not afford to have removed and did not want. Babies were abandoned in this area all the time, so often that people had started calling the place the Baby Tomb. The babies dropped there typically suffered one of three fates: either they died of starvation within a day or two, they were taken and eaten by desperately starving Fae, or a rare third option: they were picked up by somebody to take care of. A girl was watching the Baby Tomb as a young woman in a shawl deposited an infant at the Baby Tomb. A human: those were rare here in Doranelle, and often considered lower-class. It would make sense if she was a whore. It didn’t make the girl any less angry. That was a helpless infant. How could these people just leave them to die? Maria clenched her hands into fists. Her story was a little bit different. She’d had loving parents until last year when they’d both been executed for treason. They had worked for the Queen of the Fae and had apparently turned their back on her. So, the bitch had had them put down and all of their wealth stripped. That had left Maria an orphan just past her 14th birthday. Gone was the lavish lifestyle she had been gifted by her wealthy family. Gone were the parents who had showered her with love and affection. Most people expected that given her privileged birth, Maria would wither on the streets. But those people who believed that failed to consider several important factors: 1. Maria’s noble birth meant that she had strong Fae lineage built for surviving tough conditions.

2. Maria had played rough with males long before she had been forced onto the streets.

3. Her family had kept a small amount of money safe from the queen of the Fae’s clutches. Which meant that her parents had anticipated something like this happening. It wasn’t enough to buy a house or anything, but it would keep her alive for a few years before she figured out how to get a job while avoiding the tag of the “daughter of the traitor.” As soon as the woman left, Maria approached the infant. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her before she scooped the baby up into her arms and peered at his face. The baby was very skinny; most likely he was born prematurely, and the mother was probably not very healthy either. But his night-black eyes were bright and he already had a dusting of dark hair on his head. After a brief visit to the Black Market to acquire baby food, Maria carried the baby over to her little den, where she knew her friends would be waiting for her. As close to friends as you could get when you were all fighting for your survival, anyway. Symphony rolled her eyes as Maria approached. “What a surprise. Maria has picked up another stray.”

“Lay off her, Symph,” Neeraj said. Maria had a surge of gratefulness for Neeraj’s interference. Symphony was an acquired taste, very prickly and irritating at times, and she and Maria often clashed. Maria knew Symphony found Maria’s soft heart insufferable, and Maria felt the same about Symphony’s cold heart. “Really, you’re defending her, Neeraj? Remember that wild dog Maria tried to feed? And now she’s brought home an infant? How long will we survive, do you reckon? A few days?” “I’m not asking you to do shit, Phony,” Maria snapped, her nickname for her whenever Maria thought she was being rude. “I’ll take care of him myself.” “And waste our resources-“ “I’ll remind you, Phony, that most of it is either my inheritance money or money I earned through hard work-” “You mean stealing?” Symphony sneered. Maria ignored her, going on, “So you should be grateful I’m helping you guys out. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.” She saluted Symphony and Neeraj, walking past Vlain and Petro’s sleeping bodies as she passed. She found her blanket and nestled into it, peering at the child again. She lifted the baby bottle she had gotten along with the food and placed it in the cherub’s mouth. Within a couple of minutes, the baby had consumed the entire bottle of food. Stunned, Maria placed the empty baby bottle on her other side, fully prepared to fall asleep. The baby reached forward with a tiny hand and grabbed one of her fingers. Maria gently tried to slide away, but found that the child had an almighty grip. Laughing, Maria pried the fingers off, staring at the child. “You’re a little fierce one, aren’t you? I think I’ll name you Lorcan,” Maria cooed at the infant. She could’ve sworn the little face smiled at her words. “You’re going to be like the little brother I never had, once you’re a little older. I always wanted siblings, you know,” Maria said. She was fully aware that she probably looked crazy talking to a baby, but she didn’t care. “We’re going to be the best sibling duo ever. You can even take my last name. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? The troublemakers, Maria and Lorcan Salvaterre.”

#lorcan salvaterre #fanfic #origin story #cadre

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the-ravens-requiem · 7 months

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Plague-Tober 2023 #3 - Honey

The beekeeper was somewhat of an enigma.

They'd been settled in Darkwood for several years, setting up their apiaries in the rolling fields of the northwestern corner of town, where many of the farmers tended to their crops and lived. A welcomed neighbor.

They were tall and thin, always covered by their garb, like Doctor, though they rarely revealed their face. Once, they confided in Doctor, they felt comforted that there was someone else like them, who always wore the marker of their chosen path. They explained that they liked the enclosed nature of their garb; It was like a soothing weight on their shoulders, the woven basket-like mask a shield from the glare of the sun and prying eyes. It reminded them of home, of the broadleaf shrubs that protected them from the withering heat without completely denying them the satisfaction of the view.

To say the Doctor and the beekeeper were friends was easy. Few had seen their face, and even fewer had been invited to their home, unlike Doctor. It was not that the beekeeper -- named Ambrose -- was inhospitable, it was more of the fact that Ambrose liked to keep to themself.

"Lovely rain we had yesterday." Doctor mumbled, settling down into the chair Ambrose had invited them to sit at. The beekeeper bustled around their kitchen, preparing tea for the two to share. When they placed the tea and sweets onto the table-- what appeared to be honeyed shortbread decorated with dried rose petals and a pinkish tea made with a blend of flowers -- Doctor held up their hand as if to deny them.

"You never share tea with me." Ambrose admonished, clearly hurt but in a playful way. Their voice was mellow and rich, the vowels and consenants precise. "You must, at the very least, take some to eat later."

"Of course, my friend. Sorry, I always have lunch just before visiting and my appetite is quite small."

"Like a bird." They chuckled, sitting across the way from Doctor. Their hand reached out to swat gently at the 'beak' of Doctor's mask. "I swear, it seems as if you could simply look at food and become full."

"It appears that way, doesn't it?" Doctor replied, voice light and joyous.

Ambrose poured fragrant tea from their porcelain pot decorated with hand-painted flowers. A betrayal of their riches, but the only splurge they had allowed themself in their otherwise humble abode. "Anyways, I know this is a business call and not a personal one, so what can I do for you?"

"A simple transaction. I feel autumn's chill slowly arriving, and I must resupply. Has your harvest been plentiful?"

"It has. And…Summer wanes, yes. I too can feel it in the wind. Many of my flowers have gone dormant." The beekeeper glanced out the window momentarily, their masked face turning away. "…I always feel so sad to see one less bloom in my garden. They are like children to me, and I miss them when they sleep."

"Seasons come and go, my dear. It will be summer again before you know it."

The beekeeper leaned back in their chair, drawing their full attention back to Doctor. "I know you love the autumn, preparing your winter crop, but I grow restless. I feel the ache of losing hours of the sun." They drew a delicate gloved finger over the rim of their tea cup, contemplating it. The mask was then removed with little fanfare, set aside without much thought.

Revealed to Doctor was a plant-kin lesser fae, 'skin' a greenish, golden hue. Their laughing eyes iridescent like a prism. They had a nubian nose, wide and somewhat flat, and thick beautiful lips that looked much like rose petals. They brought the steaming tea cup to their aformentioned lips absently, then set it down onto its saucer.

"How much honey do you need?" Ambrose pulled down the white hood of their garb and shook free their 'hair,' a mass of flowers in the style of goldenrod blooms. Doctor knew it was not polite to stare, but they were pleasantly captivated by their passive beauty.

"Oh, a case of jars would be fine. And a few bundles of the glass sticks would be lovely. My customers love when I include them for their tea. Speaking of, do you have any need of seeds? I have plenty to spare. As a gift, between friends -- not my attempt at receiving a discount."

Ambrose laughed at that, but recovered quickly. "I have plenty as well, but thank you for asking." The plantkin rose up from their chair, then. "I'll go pack the case and grab the bundles for you, and we can settle the cost afterwards when I fetch my ledger. Feel free to entertain yourself."

"At your pleasure, friend."

#plaguetober #plaguetober2023 #filled

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starfall-spirit · 1 year

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Heavy Rests The Crown

HRTC Masterlist

Summary: Respectively ruling land and sea, the newly appointed High Lord and young merqueen find themselves pressured to marry. Their solution-a union their advisors would never approve of. Not that they can do a thing about it now.

Word Count: 1, 760

Chapter I: A Queen's Duty

Feyre

Feyre knew her tension was obvious as she stepped into the council chamber where her head advisor waited for her. “Your Majesty.” Though she no longer wanted to flinch at the title—though the crown she wore felt marginally lighter—she despised the title her oldest sister was meant to inherit.

While faerie monarchs passed their title to their most powerful heir, as long as anyone could remember the power of the merking or queen had always passed to the eldest child. And Feyre was the youngest. Untrained, compared to Nesta. Even compared to Elain.

No, Feyre hadn’t so much as thought of the queenship. Not when she was the graceless wild child. No one could tell her why she had been selected as the next monarch when Nesta was the oldest—the one prepared to do this.

So the queenly crash course began.

She met the eyes of the male who had verbally addressed her entrance. “You called for me.”

“Yes. There was a matter that we failed to address when we gathered this morning.”

This morning had covered everything from food sources, to sending a representative to the surface to discuss the route of shipments into Velaris, to rebuilding where a recent hurricane had damaged the reefs and housing. Being so inexperienced, these past few weeks had felt rather daunting. Whatever they were about to bring up, she was in no mood to hear about it. Pushing that down, she smiled.

“And what matter would that be?”

“Your marriage.”

She stiffened. “Pardon me?”

“You'll need to marry by your next birthday. You are the queen. You have no children—”

“I have no intention of marrying for some time.”

Not for decades if she could help it. Not for centuries if it took her that long to find her mate. “I realize you may have been permitted notions of mating when your sister was the presumed successor.”

Nesta never held romantic fantasies. She’d always told Feyre and Elain their fantasizing would only get them hurt in the end. She was bound for a political match and it wasn’t an unlikely outcome for the younger sisters, had their father lived long enough to push them into society for an advantageous match.

Feyre could only begin to imagine what “ideal” suitors the male before her had in mind.

“Unfortunately, that opportunity can no longer be considered. I have a few potential matches prepared, all of whom I hope you’ll agree to attempt courtship with. I—”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d prefer we finish this discussion another day.” She was gone before he could answer. She didn’t particularly care if he knew exactly where she was headed.

Feyre knew it pissed her advisors off when she swam to the surface. It was bad enough she did so as a princess, but since her fathers power transferred to her rather than one of her elder sisters the offense became a thousand times worse. The fae of Prythian and the merfolk occupying their waters had been at peace for decades now, both parties permitted above and below the waves. But she was the queen. As long as she remained unmarried and heirless, it would a concern for them. Even one she could understand. But she wasn’t getting married.

She sighed as she emerged from the Sidra River, where her territory and the Night Lord's connected. She was hardly a rare visitor, but she had been on a tight leash since the shift of power and hadn’t set foot on land in almost three months. Her queenship was a mere rumor, just as the death of their High Lord was a rumor to the mer. The staring of those who weren’t too busy to notice her were understandable.

“Feyre!”

The stunned crowd dispersed as one of her favorite Illyrians approached where the land and water met. Cassian’s grin was infectious and had her sour mood left to the sea as he pulled her from the river, watching her silvery-blue scales and torso wrap turn to skin and a simple dress, only the more permanent scales framing her face remaining to mark her as a creature belonging below.

“We’ve only had a couple of mer surface lately. What’s been—” She watched as he noted the diadem nestled in her hair. She’d been in such a hurry to flee her council and their lineup of suitors she hadn’t thought to take the thing off. “So its true. The title didn’t go to your sister.”

She pulled the crown free and dropped it into the dress’ skirt pocket before wringing the water out of her braid and tossing it over her shoulder. “Don’t make a big deal of it. I’m still just Feyre. I needed a quick escape from my advisors, is all.”

“Alright.”

“Speaking of power shifts, what happened to the High Lord. We heard…”

His expression was pained. “As normal as everything down here seems, with the trade ships and all…” She followed his gaze to the city proper. Dark mourning banners covered the shops, housing, and what laid beyond, sobering the hustle and bustle of the docks they were leaving. “The High Lord wasn’t exactly beloved, but Victorie and Avyanna were.”

With the constant disagreements and the late High Lord’s fear of Rhysand’s rising power, the heir was more often present in the Illyrian camps than in Velaris. Feyre didn’t even know his birthday or favorite color, but the lady and princess… Feyre had known them well. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

“I’m sure your father—”

“My father only thought to care for Nesta and me on his deathbed. It isn’t the same,” she all but snapped. Then practically whispered, “How did they die?”

His jaw clenched. Feyre knew Victorie had taken him and Az in as sons to her. The rage coming off of him… Whoever had hurt them deserved his wrath. And that of his brothers. The general’s voice was low as he eyed the surrounding citizens, distracted once again. “Two months ago, they were traveling to meet Rhys. They were murdered by the Spring royals. Rhys and his father returned the favor.”

Horror swept in. Not only at what brutality her mind conjured of the dead royals, but the political ramifications of it all. With the entire Spring family wiped out where did the power go? She’d educated herself on Prythian’s government as well as she could, spending so much time on the surface. But how did the power transfer? “The entire family?”

“Tamlin claimed the title of High Lord. Rhys couldn’t bring himself to kill him, but there’s no repairing their friendship. He was the only one who knew when and where they’d travel.” It was clear he was done with the topic. She reached to squeeze his hand—one last act of condolence. “Where are we headed?” she asked instead.

“With Rhys and Az home we have more family dinners now. Care to join us? You might actually get to share a conversation.”

“Dinner sounds great.”

“Alright. To the House of Wind, then.” Chuckling as Feyre grumbled about merfolk belonging on the ground or below, he swept her into his arms and shot into the sky, perhaps going slightly faster than he knew she was comfortable with.

“Ass,” she grumbled as he set her down in the foyer, instantly tugging her deeper into the house.

“Is that Feyre?” An unmistakable squeal met her ears and she held back a grunt as Mor flew into her arms. Amren didn’t move from her seat in the large living space. “Cauldron, Feyre, it’s been months! Where the hell have you been?”

She snorted, freeing herself enough to fish the diadem out of her dress’ pocket. “Dealing with years worth of training our officials assumed only Nesta would need. And overprotective advisors who won’t let me above the surface without an armada. I humored my main advisor until he started going on about marriage and heirs, told me mating was a luxury for anyone but a queen.

"I know that, of course. Nesta always accepted such things. Cauldron, she would have made a perfect queen--and convince them to push off the marriage for a few years, I'm sure."

“And what's your deadline?” Mor ventured.

“They want me married before my next birthday. I’m an immortal. Why would I need to get married at twenty-two? I’ll be utterly miserable for centuries if I pick one of their snobby lords.”

“I feel you there,” she muttered, reminding Feyre she had barely escaped such an arrangement herself, and paid a steep price for it. Feyre had yet to meet the Autumn heir and had no desire to.

“Moving on, Feyre insisted. I hear you have your own rising royal?”

“Indeed,” an unfamiliar male behind her confirmed. Rhysand, then. Turning, she met his eyes, slowly taking in the rest of him while simultaneously checking her mental shields. She had forgotten how attractive he was. She hadn’t forgotten his daemati gift and had no interest in sharing her thoughts with him. He inclined his head.

“Welcome to my home,” he said as if she hadn’t seen the place dozens of times. “Feyre, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

Tucking away her crown again, she aimed to shake his hand. The shadowsinger behind him snorted as his High Lord tilted her offered hand inwards, leaning down to brush his lips against her knuckles. The proper means of greeting a queen, and yet she hadn’t expected Rhysand to partake in such formalities, especially as he had acknowledged her by her name a moment ago.

“Cassian invited me for dinner when I surfaced,” she explained, freeing the hand he held as she mastered her slight breathlessness at the touch of the male before her. After just rambling about being unwilling to marry, she refused to fawn over a fairie royal who upheld a reputation for his arrogance and unabashed womanizing. Whatever that little tug in her chest meant, there was no sense in trying to acknowledge it.

“Of course. It seems the ladies have already broken into the good wine.” Mor swatted his shoulder before pointedly downing what was left of her glass and flouncing towards the dining room. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

The stiffness of the conversation was nearly unbearable, leading Mor to break the following silence with a loud clap, her wine presumably set over her plate in the dining room as Feyre trusted hers would be. “I’m starving. Let’s have at it.”

And as the group fell into an easy banter over their meal, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder why the High Lord’s tension remained.

~~~~~

AN: This is set in a different timeline, just a few months after Rhys' family dies. We're gonna say he became High Lord at like 75.

Tagging my usual Feysand list plus the excited rebloggers on the HC post. As usual, tell me if you want to be added or removed, guys.

@shallyne // @faeriequeensuriel // @s-uppertime // @reverie-tales // @goddess-aelin // @pandavelaris //@acourtofwips //@the-lonelybarricade

#Heavy Rests The Crown #feysand #acotar #fanfiction #feysand fic #read on ao3 #gift fic #prompt fic #mermaid!feyre

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not-poignant · 5 months

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Hello Pia

Hope you don't mind answering but how does the pide piper of Hameln treat his humans? I've read the ice plague trilogy but I can't remember specifics.

Does he see them as pets or prisoners? Is he cruel to them?

I think i remember Gwyn saying something like the piper doesn't allow them to have a language so does that mean he uses magic to take away their ability to speak or learn/develop a communication system?

Would any of them ever be able to escape him or would any fae that knows about them want to rescue them the way some humans want to rescue animals in factory farms or laboratories?

And how did the piper choose which of his humans to feed Augus and Ash? Was it a random choice or did he pick a certain pair? And was magic used to make them more compliant? Are the piper's humans even capable of putting up resistance, or have they simply been too brainwashed?

Sorry for the slew of questions but my brain just has so many and I'd really appreciate if you told me. No pressure tho. Thanks for take the time

Hi hi anon,

So a lot of this is covered in The Ice Plague and is really only in like one or two chapters, so is pretty easy to find comparatively (vs. other lore that is sprinkled all over across many books). The chapter titled 'The Ratcatcher of Hameln' is a good place to start. Though it's discussed a little before and after as well.

But the Ratcatcher of Hameln doesn't treat his humans well. It's established in The Ice Plague that they are basically entertaining livestock to him, not even really pets. They don't wear clothes and they no longer have speech likely because he forbade it at first (they were after all only children, and many completely forgot their life in the human realm by the time they were adults), and then they just further lost it over time because no one was talking to them to teach them.

The humans with the Ratcatcher aren't the original humans anymore from the folklore, they're several generations deep. They have no memory of living in any other way except as cattle in a garden. Ash and Augus could have picked whoever they wanted, none mattered in any particular way to the Ratcatcher, except as evidence of his continued vengeance against the human town he got vengeance on. I'm sure some have attempted resistance, but humans are easy to kill and torture, and he's an immortal being who is one of the most magically powerful fae in that universe. I think he'd find it cute. He did literally destroy a town by stealing all of the town's children to make a point, after all (like, in the actual folklore).

(Also, I don't see any fae as wanting to rescue them, tbh. For a start, the Ratcatcher himself is Seelie and not eating them, they're not overcrowded, and no other fae would consider that a 'cruel existence' particularly because they think the most cruel existence is the one humans inflict on themselves - all Fae (with only a few exceptions) have a very poor view on humans, humanity, and the idea of humans having control over their own lives. The Ratcatcher calls them animals and that's how many Fae see them, except they have a higher opinion of other animals. The Ratcatcher's humans are free range, fed, not fed on except in extremely rare circumstances - like it literally being the end of the world - can breed however they choose and have access to shelter. Gwyn, Augus, Ash, Mosk, Eran etc. never think to even consider this as a thought exercise.)

#asks and answers #fae tales worldbuilding #the ratcatcher of hameln #the ice plague #this is a world where veganism as a choice makes sense to no one #and it's very 'nature is as nature does'#i do think the Ratcatcher can be cruel and he's probably feared by the humans #but he thinks he treats them very well #i mean he doesn't really #but no one's going to stand against him #eventually genetic inbreeding will mean they all die out anyway #at some point or other #administrator gwyn wants this in the queue

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bloodofthefates · 6 months

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x. the thing no one asked for // inspired by @ircnwrought/@starseternelle & @nightstriumph

Though the summer equinox was the pride of Summer Court celebrations, all parts of Prythian took part in the dawning of the new season even if on a much smaller scale and the Night Court was no exception. Velaris itself was a living pulse at the center of it all, laughter and music as contagious as the company filling the winding streets of open shop and tavern doors. Various stalls had been set up and entire roadways closed down to allow for the installation of large gathering tables, food and drink flowing as freely as the friendly conversation that left no heart untouched. Nesta was not impervious to the magic of the city, having been dragged by a near begging Cassian who she was fairly certain had already made plans with Azriel and Mor before ever asking her to join along with them. She’d already made excuses to part ways, claiming to be off in search of Emerie and Gwyn but instead finding herself outside of the market square where gaggles of young fae ran the entire perimeter of the fountain in some make believe game and unhindered by any watchful parents’ eyes. Keeping her distance, Nesta watched from afar with some amusement until one tiny blurred projectile nearly ran right into her. Quick reflexes had her hands shooting out to catch and steady what she discovered was a little girl. A little girl with a crown of twisted wire and hand polished stones. So much care and detail had been crafted into the piece, a labor of true love and painstakingly placed between braided and curled strands of deep auburn hair piled high atop her head. Her dress was equally envious, jewel-toned layers of fabric expertly sewn to form fit the child’s smaller frame accentuated by a beadwork bodice of flowers and belt made of linked silver that alternated star and moon shapes clanging together musically every time she took off running after the other children. Feyre. The tiny spitting image of her younger sister came to a screeching halt in front of Nesta, huffing, puffing and armed with a paintbrush in hand and wielded it with all the ferocity of a weapon of the highest caliber. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy hue, bright blue eyes the color of the stones adorning her head lit up from equal exertion and excitement but widened when she realized who she’d nearly barreled into. Jaw dropping, the young girl sputtered for words as she tried to piece together coherent thought, soon flanked by two other members of her posse.

The raven-haired girl to the other’s left wore a long draping gown of pastel pink with white tulle overlay adorned with fresh florals of the summer blooms in every bright color. Atop her head was another equally beautiful crown, this one instead forged of yellow golden wire and more of the same flowers covering the skirts of her dress. Elain. The immediate recognition burgeoned warmth from within her chest, expanding beyond the capacity of her ribcage and causing something to catch in the back of her throat. They were perfect in every way, neither of them looked anything like her sisters from when they were younger and yet theirs were the only faces she could see staring back up at her and utterly awestruck.

“High Lady…Lady Elain.” Nesta greeted formally, dipping her head and offering an exaggerated bow of pure elegance to the leader of the little pack of Archerons in acknowledgment while attempting to hide her smile of pure mirth at the sight of the tiny versions of Elain and Feyre. “Your costumes are most fitting, I half expected the High Lord Rhysand to be trailing soon after.” Nesta laughed softly, a rare gift and true delight that had the children beaming up at her and hanging onto her every word that much more. She half hoped Rhys was somewhere near enough to hear her, never taking any chance to use him as her own personal punchline for granted even if in this particular circumstance, it was for a good cause.

Only then did Nesta turn her head to notice the nearly white-haired girl flanking tiny Feyre’s right and catching her dead in her tracks. Her smile disappeared altogether, stunned into silence by the lack of elegant dress or fitted tiara nestled into perfectly styled hair. In place of tulle or chiffon there was only leather and steel, a smaller version of the exact fighting leathers she now wore accented by a toy stand-in for Ataraxia holstered at the younger girl’s side. A single plaited braid draped over one shoulder, more for practicality than aesthetic and there was no crown atop her head. Instead, there was a beautifully crafted mask covering the upper half of her face, enough to conceal her eyes and dip down over the bridge of her nose and tied at the back of her head with a single white ribbon that suddenly had her heart aching for Emerie or Gwyn to miraculously appear.

It was the smaller version of herself looking back to her, weighted with the highest expectation of seeking her approval but for once Nesta found herself at a complete loss for words. It took her a moment, the tension stretching on for too long as the girls began to shift on their toes with uneasiness before she moved to kneel down in front of the girl finding her courage to swallow back the tears she hadn’t been expecting. “Lady Nesta… it is an honor to serve you.” She greeted the younger spitting image of herself as she was now, not the ghost of the little girl she’d once been under her mother’s heavy thumb. Pulling the real Ataraxia from its sheath at her back, Nesta maneuvered the blade carefully in front of the girls with extra caution to keep them from being afraid as she turned the grip toward the tiny Nesta and offered it to her.

“Lady Death, a true Valkyrie warrior should have a go at a real sword, wouldn’t you say?” Nesta prodded gently, uncharacteristically soft as the younger girl’s trembling fingers reached out to trace along the hilt of the blade. “You can hold it.” She nodded her permission, watching the girl’s eyes light up as she took hold of the sword. She was barely able to lift it, but Nesta handled the brunt of the weight in the blade making it appear as if the little girl was the one doing the hard work all along. The moment was fleeting, but one Nesta knew she would treasure for years to come. Almost as quickly as she’d grabbed hold, the tiny Nesta had let go and earned a fit of giggles amongst her comrades as they thanked Nesta and took off running through the square, squealing their delight and telling anyone they came across that they were real Archeron sisters now.

Sucking in a deep breath as she stood, Nesta gave her sword a good practice swing earning several worried glances from those around her before she sheathed it at her back once more. “An honor to serve you indeed..” She whispered to herself, eyes darting around to ensure no one else had witnessed her moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability as she straightened her shoulders, happy to tuck away the memory of the little girls as younger versions of Feyre and Elain happier than they had been allowed in their childhood, the better versions of themselves now just as she had seen herself in the younger Nesta.

#ircnwrought #nightstriumph #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ musings ]#✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] FEYRE ARCHERON #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] CASSIAN #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] RHYSAND #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] ELAIN ARCHERON

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