#its been a long time since ive cared at all about lucien but this...

[missarcheron]

A Tale of Nymphs IV

Summary: Elain is a nymph of spring, spreading beauty and happiness wherever she goes. Lucien is the Lord of Death, whose realm is, well- dying. When he meets Elain, he knows he will need her to save his court- and perhaps for some other things as well…

Links: Chapter One, my writing

Note: Wow, this update took too long. I hope you still enjoy the next chapter! The title already says it all, actually :D

Chapter Four: Claiming

 “What was he thinking? What was he thinking?” Elain’s mother paces up and down in her library, rubbing her forehead. Elain has never seen her as unsettled. “Lucien knows the rules. He knows! I made sure his own mother was well aware of who she was dealing with! I can’t believe he would go that far- I can’t believe he would take you by force”-

“He was not about to take me by force”, Elain says for what feels like the twentieth time in the span of this conversation. She’s tired. Everyone is yelling (especially Nesta and her mother), everyone is angry at her, everyone apparently knows Lucien and nobody has told her anything.

“How would you know that?”, her mother asks. “Oh, he is his mother’s son, her very spitting image- and she would have simply taken you away to do only the cauldron knows what!”

Elain presses her lips together. She doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. Everything seems different out of the sudden. The only thing that she’s certain of is that Lucien would never, ever hurt her. She feels it in her heart.

“You know Lucien’s mother?”, Feyre asks, surprise in her voice. “You never talked about her before!”

“Just like you never said that you knew Lucien!”, Elain throws in. “Why would you not tell us that our border touches his realm? Why would you pretend that those were simply dead woods?”

Her mother buries her face in her hands. “They are dead woods, Elain”, she says. “And I never told you about them because I wanted to protect you.”

Nesta raises her brows. “Well. That worked out well.” She’s lounged on the couch at the very back of the small library, playing with her dagger. A faint flame dances around her fingertip.

“So, let me get this straight.” Elain turns to look at both her sisters. “You didn’t know about Lucien either?”

But even as she is asking the question, she sees the answer in their eyes: they know him. They know Lucien. They know that he is the Lord of Death. And nobody has told her. Elain feels the heat rise inside her. She’s so angry she wants to explode. “I’m High Lady of the Night Court”, Feyre explains quickly and has at least the decency to look guilty. “I am bound to know. Rhysand showed me all the courts and the human lands.”

Elain glares at Nesta, who swallows. “Mother told me about the realm of the dead years ago”, she says. “Because she knows I want to protect you as much as she does.”

“You all knew?” Elain throws her hands in the air. “Who do you think I am? Some small flower that needs to be protected from being stepped on? Some little girl that can’t handle the idea of a court that is dead? You!” She points at Feyre. “Who do you think you are? Something special, just because you’re mated to the Lord of Night? I was born to be the Lady of Spring one day! I was born to rule this court! How should I have done so without knowing about our neighbors? Without knowing that there are fairies of death?” Her voice is so loud now that they must hear it outside. “I am a grown woman! I have lived over two centuries, and you still keep me like locked up- like I am in a cage!”

“That’s never what I wanted, Elain”, her mother pleads. “All I wanted for you was to stay clear of that one court.”

“But why?”

“Because they are dangerous. They are vicious. They do not care about others, they only think of themselves.” Her mother has tears in her eyes. “They would take you, Elain, and do whatever they wanted with you!”

Elain stares at her mother. “How do you know that?”

Her mother turns away from her, towards the window behind which the gardens of their court are in full bloom. “I have already lost my best friend to that court”, she says, so quietly Elain barely hears her. “And they turned her into a monster. I will not lose a daughter as well.”

“Which friend?”, Nesta asks.

But their mother does not turn around. Roots are shooting out from under her dress; leaves suddenly weave themselves into her hair. Branches grow from her fingertips.

Feyre sighs. “She’s turning into a tree again. Very good conflict solving, mother.” That’s that, then. Not soon, and their mother will be a small oak. She does this from time to time, turning into plants or animals. She says it helps her connect to her center, to nature. She says it’s a natural thing for all spring fae. So why does Elain never feel the urge to do stuff like that? Why is her mother unable to answer the simplest questions?

Nesta jumps up, still juggling her dagger. “I can’t believe there’s a whole backstory to Lucien and his court. And about that friend of hers that went to the Court of the Dead. She could have told us.”

“Elain”, Feyre begins, but Elain brushes past her. “I don’t think I want to talk to you much more”, she says and pushes open the doors that lead to the corridor. “Since you never saw it necessary to talk to me about anything.” Nesta calls something after her, but Elain slams the door to the library shut.

-

Lucien wanders the human realms today, disguised as a beggar, as the Lord of Death often likes to do. He needs to do something, anything, to forget yesterday. But even when he walks among one of these busy cities, watching the humans go along their business, a small pulsing headache reminds him of what he’s held in his arms, and what he’s lost. His mate.

Elain.

He wants to shout her name out into the world. Elain, Elain. Lucien didn’t even know such a miracle was possible, didn’t know the Lord of Death could experience such a wonderful thing: his parents were not mated, as his mother has told him over and over again. His father was mated to some human woman who died long before he met Lucien’s mother. Lucien wonders sometimes if that is why their marriage was such an unhappy one. But then again- is that not a depressing thought? It is so rare to find a mate- what about all those poor souls that do not have one? Are they all doomed to live unhappy lives?

It does not matter, anyways- both his parents are dead, and there is nobody left to ask about their story.

Death calls to him, here in the human world. He can smell it in every corner, in every face: and like a moth to the light, he is drawn away from the busy street and into a small courtyard where a small girl-child lies in the arms of her mother. A crowd has gathered around them, and Lucien soon sees the reason for that: the girl is dying. A horse must have run her down, or she has fallen down a set of stairs: her back is bent in an unnatural way and she is coughing blood. Lucien steps closer. The mother is yelling frantically, “A doctor! Someone! Please, help me, help my little baby”-

She will soon die. Lucien can still see the flame of life dancing in her eyes, but it is a desperate dance, one last effort before it will extinguish. The little girl is lucky, still. When the Lord of Death is present in your last hour, he will be able to take away your fear. Sure enough, the child meets his eye- and Lucien tells her what he tells all the humans. Do not be afraid. Death is but another passage. You will go on in peace.

“NO!”, the girl screams suddenly, a high-pitched, gruesome sound. “NO! Mama! He is here to take me! Make him go away! He is here to take me with him!”

The mother blindly looks up, tears streaming over her face. “HIM!”, the girl cries out and points at Lucien. “It’s him! It’s him! He’s here to take me!”

Lucien freezes. Such a thing has never happened before. He is there to give peace to the dying; here to take away their pain. But his presence seems to have the opposite effect.

Before anything else happens, he disappears into the shadows, flees back into the street. A small ping in the back of his mind tells him the girl has just died. And she’s died in fear of death, the worst way to go.

Lucien rushes back to his own realm, winnowing just to the border of his lands and then continues on foot from there, until he finds the long line of mortals dragging themselves through the snow towards the Lake of Dûren. They look as ghost-like and depressed as ever. And there, at the very end, the newest addition: the little girl, barely able to hold herself up, blood streaming out of her broken ribs and staining the snow.

“Girl”, Lucien says gently when he reaches her. “Do not tremble. Death is nothing to fear. It is a natural as life.”

The girl raises her face up to look at him. Her eyes are two dark holes of blackness. “Can you take away the pain?”, she croaks. “I am so cold…”

Lucien puts his hand on her shoulder, tries to push his magic into her small body as he has seen his mother do when she took away the pain of the Dead; but nothing happens. It is as it ever was. He has no powers anymore.

“Please!”, the little girl wails. “I cannot go on like this! You must help me!”

But Lucien is useless. He sinks into the snow, watches her disappear until she’s far gone. All the while, he hears her screaming in pain. He knows what will happen to her now: she will enter the Lake Dûren with fear in her heart, and her soul will never know peace. She’ll be screaming for all eternity.

Lucien lowers his head, presses his fists into the snow. He must do something. All those souls that die every day, all those humans that will never know peace- he must heal help them. Heal his own realm. What could have caused its demise? Why was everything fine when his mother and father ruled?

You need to find the Bride of Death.

Those last words, uttered by his mother, still haunt his memory. He was informed of her sudden, mysterious illness too late; when he rushed back to the palace to see her, she had almost been gone. Only these words could she rasp before her heart stopped. You need to find the Bride of Death.

The Bride of Death. It is the only clue Lucien has. The only thing that might help him now.

And it can’t be a coincidence that he has found his mate just yesterday…his true mate, a nymph of Spring. It must mean something. Could Elain be that bride? Could she be the thing that’s missing from his lands?

Lucien hardens his jaw. This is not about him anymore. This is about helping all those human souls; helping Tamlin, who’s wasting away each day; helping his realm and his people. He needs Elain here. He needs to test if she is that bride his mother told him to find.

And he will not stop at anything to get her.

He will travel to Spring. He’ll claim her. Whether her family wants it or not.

-

Alone in the rose-covered meadows of the Spring Palace, Elain sits down on the soft ground and lets her fingers wander over the grass. Everything is confusing. Those dead lands that somehow called out to her- her mother, keeping truths from her for whatever reason- and then that strange man, Lucien, the one she thinks she’s known since the beginning of time…

Elide sighs and falls back into the grass. The sky above her is ever-blue, only interrupted by a few puffy clouds. Spring Court is, as it has always been, a paradise.

But why do these lands not speak to her the same way? Why does she feel drawn to the land of the Dead, that foreign, frozen court? If she is to be the High Lady of Spring one day, should she not feel appalled and disgusted by the absence of little birds, flowers and blooming trees? And what about Lucien? Her mother made it out to be as if he was a horrible person…but Elain remembers how he caught her in his arms. How gentle his touch has been.

Perhaps Elain doesn’t want to live in eternal spring. Perhaps she is tired of pretty dresses, and pretty flowers, and pretty rooms. Perhaps she is tired of this court.

Something is missing from her.

She raises herself up again and looks down at her dress, as bright and beautiful as ever. Could she not change it, at least once, into something that actually mirrors her mood? Not that helpless, little nymph of spring, but something else. Her true self. Not spring. But…something else. Something alive.

Alive.

The word sweeps over her, removing an iron barrier in her mind. As if melting away, her dress sinks into the ground around her- a hundred pink petals spring from the grass where is had touched the earth- but Elain is not naked underneath it.

She’s grown a second skin instead. Not a skin, but rather a suit- black, made of little metal pieces, almost like the skin of a snake. She’s even wearing boots. Has she even ever worn shoes before? All nymphs of spring run barefoot through the trees.

Elain hastily stands up and looks down at herself. She’s wearing a warrior’s armor. As black as the night. And there- around her hips, a golden thread is spun. Elain gingerly touches the rope. It’s warm, pulsing with- life? It may sound crazy, but that is just what she is feeling under her fingertips: life in its purest form, life, tingling, growing, evolving. It’s the same sensation she feels when she calls flowers or animals into existence, when she heals the sick and wounded, the same feeling she had when she pushed her magic into the soil of Lucien’s court.

Life.

She has to tell her mother about this. Something is different. These are no spring powers and she’s never seen a suit like this.

Elain needs answers, and she needs them now.

-

Lucien breaks every rule by entering the Spring Court. He goes there alone: nobody else would be strong enough to endure the pain that comes with crossing the border.

But pain is nothing to Lucien right now. He’s here to claim his mate.

Winnowing is possible here, but it almost tears him apart, and when he finds himself standing in front of the Spring Palace, he has to catch his breath first. Then he sets out to find Elain. She is close; he can sense her. Somewhere inside the palace.

“Hey! You!” Two guards have noticed him. “Who are you? Nobody enters the realm of Spring without our High Lady’s permission”-

Lucien blasts his dark magic against them, twisting their hearts just the slightest bit- killing is easy, even here in Spring. It’s always easy to him.

But he lets them live. Why bother with their death? These guards are just a nuisance on his way to a much more important thing. Lucien enters the palace through a great silver door adorned with petals and flowers and renders all those useless guards that throw themselves into his way incapable of walking by twisting their heart and minds and bones.

After ten minutes of hunting her down, he feels that Elain is close now. Behind that great wooden door at the end of the hallway, perhaps? Library, a golden sign above the entrance says. And true enough: Lucien sees her directly when he opens the door to the room. She is sitting on the floor and talking to a-

Talking to a tree?

Lucien rubs his eyes. But he is not dreaming. Elain kneels in front of a white oak that grows for some reason inside this library, one hand placed on its roots and speaks with the tree as if it were a living being.

“Mother, please”, she says. “I need to talk to you. I want to understand so many things and I have the feeling that you are telling me nothing. I just wish to know about Lucien, about his court, and there is no one but you that I could ask”-

Lucien clicks his tongue. “That’s not true, love. I’m always here to answer whatever you want to know.”

Elain whirls around.

So does the tree. The roots shrink into themselves and two hands suddenly tear open the tree’s stump from the inside- tearing it apart to create a hole. The High Lady of Spring steps out, naked, covered in dirt. She snaps her fingers and a dress appears out of nowhere to cling itself around her body; another snap, and she looks as beautiful and radiant as when Lucien last saw her.

Elain sits by her feet, entirely frozen.

“Lucien!”, the High Lady cries. “Now it is open war! There are too many lines you have crossed- and I will not rest until I have your body broken and burnt before me”-

“I’m not here for you”, Lucien answers. “I’m here for Elain.”

“Never!” The High Lady’s eyes are burning with hatred. “Spring has tethered its ties with Death for now and all eternity. I will punish you for this insolence in ways you can’t imagine- Spring has rules that have been in place for hundreds of years, and you won’t be the one to break them”-

“Mother!” Elain stands up. “Don’t talk to him like that!” She turns to Lucien. “Why are you here?”

Before he can think of anything else- an elaborate proposal, some great speech about bonds and love and the color of Elain’s eyes- Lucien growls: “I’m here to claim you as my mate. No treaty can trump that bond. No ancient rule is stronger than it. There is no possibility of revoking this.”

It’s suddenly so quiet in the room that Lucien hears the winds outside.

“Mate?”, Elain breathes. “You’re my mate?”

“Yes.” Lucien steps towards her. “And I’m here to bring you to my court and make you mine.”

#a tale of nymphs #tog #lucien #elain #nesta #feyre #elucien #otp #honestly #mate #claiming #shit is finally about to happen you guys #acotar #acomaf #acowar #sjm

[pterodactylichexameter]

BECAUSE THIS IS ALL IVE BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST FEW MONTHS, have a catering au~ 

Rhys is the owner and he’s pretty much the best boss anyone could ever have. Quality pay.  Good manners. Everything runs smoothly under him. 

Amren is the manager under him, but no one ever sees her do anything. She shows up to events and probably orders linen or something and she always has an opaque starbucks cup in hand that never has coffee in it. No one’s sure what she drinks but they just know that you don’t mess with Amren’s stuff. Always well dressed, usually black slacks and a pristine, pressed shirt with a statement necklace every time.  Never eats any of the food despite being around it 24/7.

Mor manages the staff and is ON HER GAME. She sends out a prompt, color coordinated schedule every week and everyone’s times are always perfect. She knows what she’s about. She’s pretty hands on with running everything, and always makes an effort to check in on every event and help run them. She’s also the only one to show up at a 6 am shift on a saturday morning still in her club dress from the night before with heels in hand (she always keeps a change of clothes in her office for nights like those). Always keeps things fun, especially on long days and always brings in snacks for everyone in the mornings and organizes a work party for every excuse she can. (They definitely have monthly parties to celebrate everyone’s birthday in that month)

Cassian, oh Cassian... is the chef. The kitchen is loud and he’s usually laughing and he always, always keeps his hair in a bun and fills out his jacket very nicely (Nesta approves). His food is to die for and he’s always throwing in a few extra things he whips up for the staff. He comes with them to events to help plate food and will check up on the crowd to make sure they like everything. Could probably take a rack out of an oven and not feel a thing. Fingertips are probably burned off at this point, it’s a running joke that if anything is too hot to carry, Cass can just handle it for you. (he always jokes that he can carry all the burning hot things because he’s equally as hot and Nesta is just -_- even though she’s basically in agreement)  

Azriel is the baker, and he makes all the breads and desserts they serve. He and Cass work hand in hand a lot to get everything done and they’re always asking each other to try their thing to make sure it tastes good. Az prefers being in the back of house because he doesn’t particularly enjoy the interacting part of the job and it’s usually chaotic in front of everyone. And every once in a while, when Mor is having a bad day, he makes sure there are “extra” slices of her favorite triple chocolate cake on her desk that he definitely didn’t make just for her, not at all. 

Nesta is a server who’s relatively new, but still gets it done. She sets tables like a beast and everything she does is precise, clean, and even if she’s just pushed that one disturbingly massive hotbox half a mile to a venue, she’s never sweaty or has a hair out of place, it’s truly astonishing. She also definitely doesn’t have a thing for the chef. Not at all. It’s not like she stares at his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his white uniform or always casually suggests that she can be the one to go pick up the food from the kitchen. 

Elain is another server who pretty much always ends up working the bars. She can be a little slow setting things up sometimes, but she’s still a hard worker and everyone loves her enough that she could take fifty years to set a beverage station and everyone would still smile at her. She enjoys the jobs that involve interacting with people and can somehow magically pour red wine over a white tablecloth and keep them absolutely pristine.

Feyre is a server too, so she does everything, but they usually leave the design elements up to her. She’ll help Cass plate the food sometimes, or arrange a board of fruit into cool shapes.  She and Rhys are shamelessly dating even though everyone is ??? “wait ur dating ur boss?” No one cares though, and its usually never a problem except that one time Mor walked into Rhys’s office without knocking and found them making out with her sitting in his lap. 

Lucien (you can thank @highfaelucien​ for this idea) runs the flower shop that supplies centerpieces/decorations, and he always hangs around after a delivery to talk with everyone... aka flirt with the pretty server who blushes when he hands her a flower. He has his usual beautifully long hair and will mostly keep it up for work so it doesn’t get in the way. He’s always casually, immaculately dressed and smells ridiculously good (not that Elain has noticed). He has his cartilage pierced too, and Elain definitely doesn’t drool over his earrings when he has his hair pulled back out of the way. Their interactions are mainly Lucien being >:) and ;) while Elain blushes beet red.

Other assorted pieces:  

Sometimes when they’re just finishing cleaning up, Mor and Cass will have a drink after (no one knows how they aren’t tired). Mor supplies the alcohol. Cassian supplies the dessert. They’ll sit in the empty kitchen and share a slice of cake and trade stories about all the weird stuff that happened that day. 

Nesta and Mor definitely make out at the Christmas party one year. Mor is in this little red dress with black tights and heels and they end up with red lipstick smeared all over their faces, stumbling out of the linen closet.

Cass tries to woo Nesta with food and it works better than he thought it might. At first he thinks he’ll make some big, fancy dessert, but then he’s like... nah STEAK.  Az walks by Cassian’s station and is confused at first because there’s nothing they need that for that night? But he turns it over in the pan and casually says that Nesta is hungry.... “You’re trying to romance her.... with meat???” “Steaks are sexy Azriel.” Luckily though, Cass is very :))) when he brings Nesta’s plate to her and her eyes go a little wide because he really didn’t have to do that, really he didn’t. But since its there.... She digs into it and probably lets out this moan that has Cass grinning wider and he goes down to brag to Az about her liking it. 

Az feeds the cats behind the building every night and Mor thinks its adorable. One is looking particularly worse for wear, though, and he ends up taking it home and basically adopting it. Mor proudly calls herself the kitty’s “co parent” and goes around bragging about their child to everyone while Az blushes in the background.

Nesta has been forever banned from driving the truck because her road rage + a giant truck is really not a good idea. She’s thiiiiis close to being banned from the truck whenever Cassian is in it too because they inevitably end up fucking in the back of it while he lifts her onto a cart. 

Smut bonus: 

when Nessian are finally together, he brings back homemade whipped cream and chocolate sauce for them to use ~that night~ but it just devolves into Nesta laughing so hard she’s crying because she can’t take Cassian seriously when he’s spraying whipped cream onto her boobs. 

#nessian #u dont understand how much weird shit I have to deal with at work #I was thinking about this all morning #Also people have legit fucked in the catering truck I KID U NOT #A dude gave his bf a bj while they were parked AT THE PRESIDENT OF MY UNI'S HOUSE #I couldn't make that up if I tried #catering au #my headcanons #is it obvious feyrhys doesn't interest me at all lol

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Chapter 12

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Morrigan takes Feyre out dress shopping for the dance where the girls have a little heart to heart about the men in their lives. The conversation leaves Feyre wondering about Rhys, but when she takes things a tad too far at the school Karaoke night, things between them do not go well.

Chapter 12

I stared at the pasty creams and pinks and wanted to gag. The desire increased when I flipped the price tags over and nearly fainted from the sticker shock.

“You don’t have to look like a pastry, you know.” Mor grabbed my shoulders and steered me away from the racks I’d been stuck in front of staring off into miles of crinoline and lace for far too long. “You can try something a little sexier. No one expects you turn up looking like a wedding cake. Makes it very difficult to dance.”

“Morrigan,” I said between my teeth as we stopped before a rack of silks and satins that looked like pillowcases made to dress a pencil.

“Oh stop. This should be fun!” She settled down for a moment, giving me her sympathetic puppy eyes. “You are having fun, right?”

Goodness I felt awful.

“Yes, this is just a little out of my element. Fashion was always more Nesta and Elain’s thing. I mostly live in… paint.”

“Well don’t worry. I’ll have you fixed up in no time for the dance. My cousin won’t know what hit him.” She bit her lip and made suggestive faces at me. Morrigan could be a real fox when she wanted to, which was half the time anyway.

“Your - wait, what?”

She had disappeared into the dressing room with a mountain of options piled onto the crook of her arm before I could catch her. “Tell me which ones look good, okay!”

“You know you’re going to look good in everything, right?” I said standing outside the stall while the dressing room attendant, clearly bored with the slow day, tried not to look like she was eavesdropping.

Mor peeked her head out from behind the door and grinned. “Well alright then, help me figure out which one is gonna get me the hottest date!”

“No one’s asked you yet?”

“Well, there have been a few inquiries. Just a couple of guys on the football team trailing me and some of the other girls on cheer after the games, but…”

But not the right football player.

“You ever think of asking someone out? Someone you feel more suited to saying yes to.”

Mor snorted and I faintly heard her whisper, “As if he’d say yes…” I didn’t think I was meant to hear it. “I’m coming out now. Guard your eyes lest you decide to ask me!”

She was a vision in red. Her hair and makeup weren’t even done. The dress clung effortlessly to her curves and wound its way up her chest and neck like a snake caressing its prey before stealing the final few breaths. How on earth could anyone be so effortlessly flawless?

The dressing room attendant whistled and Mor scrunched her nose up playfully at her. “Thanks.” She asked already beaming at me as she did a little spin and I caught the back view. “Well?”

“I think it’s safe to say you could land any guy you wanted in a dress like that.”

She popped off the little pedestal and thrust a dress from her changing room at me. “Try one on, just for me. Please?”

The dress was midnight blue and felt like water over my hands. It was sure to be horrifying on me as I was nowhere near as well endowed as Mor, but it was so supple and if anyone could make me feel like gold in a dress like this it’d be Mor.

“Fine, just one.”

Mor clapped her hands together briskly and I grabbed a room.

“What about you? Any suitors?” she called one stall over. “You’re bound to be Miss Popular now that you’re on the ballot for court.”

“Ha, fat chance.”

I took my oversized sweater and leggings off, cringing at the paint stains sat next to the elegant garment I was meant to put on.

“Really, no one’s asked you yet?”

“No, why?”

“Hmpf,” was my only reply.

“Mor?”

“Yeah?”

“What is it?”

I heard her door click open. Nervously, I opened my own and stepped out into the light where I was met with a squeal. “OOH! It’s perfect!”

“Hardly,” I said, glancing over my shoulder into the mirror where my butt was practically visible via the deep drop of the open back. This was never making it past dress code. The chaperones at the dance would have my neck. “And don’t distract. Answer my question.”

She crossed her arms looking positively exquisite in dress number two, a strappy white little number that was sure to have a certain running back’s blood running. I hoped she’d pick that one regardless of what else she might try on.

“It’s just, I was so sure Rhys was going to ask you.”

“Rhys - oh.”

“Come on, you may yell at him half the time for being an awful little flirt, but you flirt right back.”

I scowled, but I couldn’t exactly deny it. The attraction was there right between the violet eyes, the cat-like smirks, and the way he moved so fluidly as he walked, the lean muscles of his body working with every step.

But most of all, Rhys was kind. He pushed, but never overstepped. He laughed, but never destroyed. He listened. He was everything I wasn’t, which was one heaping big mess still, all because of Tamlin.

“Rhys wouldn’t be interested.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Trust me, he wouldn’t. He’s like Cassian. All flirtation, no actual intention for anything serious.” She rolled her eyes not believing a word out of my mouth. “And besides, Tamlin-”

“Is ancient history,” Mor cut in very flat. This wasn’t her opinion - it was cold hard fact. “You haven’t even talked to him since you broke up, which you did - I’ll remind you - because he was a lying sack of scum who was cheating on you. Something Rhys would never do.”

“You date him if you’re so sold on him. Or if you won’t give poor Az a break, at least give Cass a chance.”

The fit of giggles that erupted out of her was worse than a Caribbean hurricane mid-summer. “Me and Cassian - please!” I swiveled around and made back for my room when Mor calmed herself down and went on. “He and I are a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Why’s that?” I asked changing back into my clothes. I’d only promised one dress. Mor had plenty more scratching along the rack in her stall.

“He and I slept together once. It didn’t end well.”

“You what?”

“Yeah, yeah, shut your face woman. I know all about what you’re thinking. But he and I are history. I was so excited when my uncle convinced my parents to let me stay out here with him and Rhys that I jumped on the first guy I could find to celebrate.” There was a pause and she was suddenly much less flippant about it all. “It was awkward afterwards and I felt like I’d made things unnecessarily weird between Rhys and I, not that he cared if his friends dated, but… I’d only just arrived and it was better not getting too involved.”

I laced up my shoes and strode back out to wait outside her door. “But it’s been two years now. Surely enough time has passed.”

“Yeah and surely Cassian has well and truly moved on. Besides, you don’t actually want him and I together, do you? Golly, it’d be miserable for everyone. We’d never stop fighting!”

“Yeah, well, Cass isn’t exactly who I’d been talking about.”

Silence. Then, a cleared throat.

“I’m coming back out now,” Mor called and the door clicked open. Dress number three was a canary yellow cocktail number that should have clashed horribly with her hair, but naturally it complimented her in every way. “Well? How’s this one?”

“Perfect on you, of course.” I forced myself to barely look at her and she took the bait.

Mor groaned. At her sides, her fingers fidgeted uncomfortably with the sides of her dress. “What, Feyre?”

“I’ll make you a deal. You think about what I said, asking someone - anyone,” I added at the redness I saw turning over her cheeks, “and I’ll consider the possibility of going with, um, Rhys.”

“Oh, would you?!”

“I’m not making any promises! I just said I’ll think about it, which is all I’m asking of you. I’m telling you, he won’t want to go with me.”

“I highly doubt that, Feyre. I highly doubt that.” It was funny how much she looked like Rhys herself in that moment. It wasn’t in the physicality of their bodies so much as the way they moved. They carried the same glow about themselves, the same happy energy that was contagious if you got too close.

“Yeah, well, just don’t forget to keep up your end of the deal.”

Mor darted forward and pecked a quick kiss on my cheek. “I won’t - promise!”

She tried on no less than twenty dresses that day.

Tamlin.

Rhysand.

Tamlin.

Rhysand.

Was I even interested in Rhys? I didn’t think I’d be thinking about him so much if Mor hadn’t insisted on beating the idea into me.

I hadn’t spoken to Tamlin for weeks since the breakup. I occasionally still saw him at school. It was inevitable that we would run into each other and every time it was a horrible dagger straight to my chest.

He had tried the first day to talk to me, but only after a chance encounter at lunch. He didn’t seek me out. He didn’t try to call. But the moment I magically got in his way in a chance encounter while changing classes, he was a slew of words and apologies I didn’t have time to hear.

And that was simply that.

Lucien had avoided me too. The few times we saw each other across the cafeteria for lunch we sent a slew of icy glares back and forth, and that was pretty much it. Each time one of us broke eye contact, a horrible knot would ache in my side, my body trying to get me to acknowledge Lucien and the fights between him and Tamlin before the breakup. But I didn’t want to see it. Not yet.

Rhys never mentioned Tamlin and I had a feeling it wasn’t just for my benefit. But I liked that he didn’t pressure me about him or tear him apart for what he’d done. It was nice to feel respected and leave it at that.

Going out with Rhys was another matter entirely - a laughing one. I hated to admit even to myself how huge a hole Tamlin left inside my heart. It wasn’t exactly him that was the issue, just the fact that there used to be someone there for the longest time by my side and now there wasn’t and suddenly my mess of a life was an even bigger mess.

With Rhys, I could pretend it wasn’t. He made me feel somewhat normal again, if normal was even an obtainable thing. But that only worked while we were friends. I knew that under the surface, I was still cracking barely holding on. If he dug a little deeper, got his long delicate fingers underneath my skin, he would unhinge me completely and that was something I really, really didn’t want him to see again.

Better to keep my distance from him in the daylight so I could go on pretending all was well, rather than continue throwing my family and demons at him in the night, especially when he had chased enough of them away already. The guilt of burdening him further even as I lied about how I was doing could destroy what tenuous friendship we already had.

Not that that stopped me from noticing him from time to time…

Like now as we drove to the Karaoke Night at the cafe a few blocks down the road from school.

Rhys had picked me up. It was the first time outside of school that I’d seen him since my dress shopping extravaganza with Mor and he looked, ah, handsome.

He had on a solid black shirt that was pressed and crisp as was his usual standard, but the lack of buttons and tailor made cuffs he had swapped out for 100% cotton fabric was heart-palpitating to say the least. There was less gel than usual in his hair so that the ends stuck out a smidge from where he’d placed it. One little tendril curled just over the top of his right ear looking very much like it might tickle him. My hand flinched on impulse to touch it.

“You know, if you wanted to sit and undress me all day long with your eyes, you need only have asked. I would have gotten to your house much sooner.”

Rhysand tilted his head back, an exaggerated way of knowingly looking at me as he drove. It caused the muscles in his neck to stretch and strain and - oh boil and bake me, Morrigan, you wicked witch. This was all her fault.

He laughed as I stammered and continued to gawk awkwardly at him, and resumed his driving. I sat in my seat glad that he only thought the flirtation a mere joke. It was just a joke, to me at least. I didn’t actually like Rhys, he was just attractive.

That was all.

I was nervous about this Karaoke Night. Cassian had threatened to make me sing and I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to acquiesce to that demand. Especially when he suggested that I sing my heart out to some Backstreet Boys hit I’d forgotten had existed. (Cassian knew every word.)

Morrigan was even more insistent that I choose something, but Az was the one who whispered in my ear that with a senior class of over one thousand students, even if only a small fraction of them showed up for this, I could easily get away with not singing.

“Iced tea for the lady,” Rhys said coming over from the cafe counter and handing me a clear plastic cup full of ice and heaven.

“I like other drinks too, you know,” I said before amending to, “and that you don’t have to get me anything.”

Rhys gave a shrug contained entirely to the downward slope of his lips and sat down silently next to me. Instantly, I wanted to take back what I’d said so I could earn his smile instead - the same one he’d flashed me in the car.

Cassian, ever the showoff, took over MC duties with gusto. I chewed on my straw as the first person went up to sing some cheesy version of My Heart Will Go On. Typical karaoke fodder.

“You seem tense,” Mor said on my right. With Rhys close on my other side, I couldn’t exactly answer her honestly. He was so close and I felt… a little hot in the face.

Did I like him? Was this all because Mor said something or was there… was there something there?

I tried to shrug it off like it was nothing, but my body cut it off halfway with a shudder I didn’t quite understand, sort of like when you want to say one word but accidentally start to say another at the last second and get them jumbled.

This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t going to let this happen. I couldn’t like him. I would not like him. He was my friend and he was helping me work through enough already without adding feelings to the mix that he wouldn’t return.

Well, probably almost most definitely maybe wouldn’t return.

Depending on how much I trusted Mor.

And Tamlin. Goodness Tamlin was -

Here.

My stomach clenched uncomfortably as I scanned the cafe trying to look anywhere but Rhys or Mor, who still hadn’t stopped smirking at me even as Az sat next to her trying to keep from looking at the free hand she held open in her lap - filthy hypocrite.

And then there was Tamlin walking in with Lucien and… and…

Her.

Rhys noticed the shift in me right away and looked up, exchanging a look of annoyance with Cassian up on the mock stage when he realized who I was watching. Cassian kept the line of karaoke go-ers moving while Tamlin kept his distance at the cafe bar.

He gave me one single look, his mouth opening a fraction of an inch as if he might say something to me across the room, and then Lucien was stepping in front of him blocking his view with his back to me.

“Feyre, hey,” Rhys said softly next to me. His knuckles brushed over my thigh and I withdrew into myself, mesmerized by the touch. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at Tamlin anymore either.

“Feyre, you’re shaking.”

“What?” I hadn’t even noticed.

“Do you want me to go tell him to leave?”

“No,” I shook my head quickly. Interfering with Tamlin was the last thing I wanted. “No, just… stay with me, please. Distract me.”

His knuckles moved a little higher on my thigh in a way that was supposed to be reassuring, comforting, but… “What do you want me to-” he started to say at the same time my chest hitched from the contact on my leg.

Rhys’s hand froze. And Tamlin started to disappear as I thought more and more about that hand on me.

“Feyre…” Rhys rasped. Just that sound. That simple change in his voice. It did something to me I couldn’t quite explain. A small little window inside of me cracked open the tiniest bit.

Time to test Mor’s theory.

Nervous to the point of shaking, I slid the hand closest to Rhys down my thigh to meet his letting my fingers brush over his palm. His fingers curled and I could practically feel the goosebumps rising on his skin as if they were my own.

I dragged ever so slightly higher towards his wrist and his hand snapped mine down in a jerk he made sure no one else could see, but I certainly felt. Had he shivered? I think he might have shivered. My heart pounded out of my chest as he snaked his far hand over him to run up my arm, tickling in the crook of my elbow so that my body felt alive with the electricity of the touch.

Let’s see how you like it, his fingers said.

A small gasping breath rattled out of me. And I wanted more.

Below our chairs, I slipped my foot out of my sandal and wrapped it around his leg. I pushed the hem of his pants up with my toes and gently rubbed over his ankle. When my foot got past his sock and met his bare skin, I felt his calf clench where my leg was twisted around him.

But his fingers - damn his long delicate fingers kept stroking up and down my arm and it was all I could do not to squirm in my seat and draw the attention of the entire room.

Oh shit - the room. I’d forgotten where we even were in less than a minute of Rhys distracting me, exactly as I’d asked him to. But all I felt was him. And all I heard was this pounding of music as someone sang on the microphone some heady love ballad with a building melody…

Rhys’s knuckles ran a new pilgrimage from my wrist up my arm, but did not stop this time until they met my shoulder and then up, up, up my neck to where my ear was and - ugh… My head rolled onto his shoulder to cut the touch off and save myself from whimpering aloud. Rhys’s only response was to lean down, his nose brushing over my hair, and I felt a hot breath on me as he murmured one word.

Just one word.

One name.

My name.

“Feyre…”

“Ah,” Mor’s sharp voice remarked quietly next to me. My head snapped up and she cleared her throat, inclining her head in the direction of the bar. Tamlin was glaring at me - at Rhys - as he pounded a drink far too hot to be gulped down the way he was. Ianthe did not seem too bothered to notice or else she didn’t care.

Whether he meant to or not, Rhys’s arm went around the back of my chair refraining from touching me, but the message was clear. Mor crossed her arms and legs with a look to kill and Azriel - Azriel stared outright, his scarred hands running over one another as if he were sharpening a sword. I’d never seen him so open about this part of himself he normally tucked away so carefully.

I looked at my friends - my little inner circle and it gave me the confidence I needed to look Tamlin in the eye and I glared with every ounce of self-respect I had in me. Fearless as the wolves, I wasn’t going to let him take anything else from me. Not ever again.

Lucien said something to Tamlin. Ianthe looked bored. Five seconds later, they had all left. And I felt smug and satisfied.

Until I looked at Rhys.

His face was clenched tightly. I realized he was no longer touching any part of me. He looked… he looked dejected.

“Rhys-”

“I’ll be back,” he said and shot out of his seat. Cassian stumbled with the transitions between songs and cracked a random bawdy joke to cover it up, but I knew he’d seen the whole exchange.

Azriel politely averted his attention from me. And Mor, well, she was about to say something, but stopped short. Because there was nothing to say. I’d blown it.

With Tamlin in the clear, I followed after Rhys. He pushed outside the cafe and I momentarily held my breath waiting to see if Tamlin would still be lingering outside, but there was no trace of him.

Rhys leaned against the window of the building, his hands in his pockets. He took one look at me and I watched the corners of his eyes tighten miserably as he shirked himself from me.

“Hey,” I said gently, trying to figure out how to fix this. “What’s wrong? What did I-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, interrupting me. I gaped at him confused.

“Sorry? What the hell for?”

“What for? What for?” He pushed off the window, but maintained a careful distance from me. “Shit, Feyre.”

“What? What is it?” I tried to step closer, but he recoiled and that hurt worst of all. “What did I do?”

Instantly, he moved and within seconds he was cradling my face in his hands. “Stop it,” he choked. “Stop comparing.” He stared right into me with those violet eyes of his and the world started slipping away again.

“I don’t understa-”

“Damnit, Feyre - I’m not Tamlin! This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just because I’m… it doesn’t mean that you’re… that you did something...”

His eyes circled around mine resting momentarily on my lips and I thought he might lean down and kiss me, but I was so distracted by what had just happened, what he was saying, that I asked, “Just because you’re what?”

His fingers brushed further back across my face, clenching into my hair before he dropped them and released me entirely.

“What I did back there-”

“What we did, you mean. Don’t think I’m not a part of this.”

“Stop. Please stop. Will you listen to yourself for two seconds?” He ran a hand through his hair. Without it being styled nicely like he normally did, the gesture ruffled it out of place completely. “Feyre, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. It was inappropriate and spiteful and you deserve better than that.”

I opened my mouth to argue and then promptly closed it again as I glared at him. He seriously was going to do this to me? Now?

My heart fluttered uncomfortably. Was it all a joke to him then? The flirting. The witty retorts. The bedroom eyes he was constantly sending. Or had I just gotten too high on Mor’s insistent chatter in my ears and overlooked the obvious fact that Rhys was just as big a flirt with everyone as Cassian was?

I wasn’t sure where the anger was suddenly coming from, but it was there, hot underneath my skin. “I don’t get it. I asked for you to help me. What you did - Rhys. Fuck, I needed your help. And you think you let me down?”

“Of course I did,” he snapped. “I let you down. I let myself down.”

There it was. The simple truth.

I took a risk. I put myself out there. He gave himself a taste of what it might be like and realized I wasn’t what he wanted after all. A letdown.

And I’d fallen for it. Those horrible few seconds where I’d let myself dare think maybe he might feel something for me were a huge, nasty mistake.

“Feyre, I-”

“Don’t,” I said. And the scene felt all too familiar to another guy I’d had to cut off from defending himself for his actions. All too painfully familiar. “You know what, Rhys. Forget it. I don’t know what your problem is. You shove yourself into my life and you say and you do all of these things and you make me think that, that… I don’t even know what I think anymore. But we can just pretend none of this ever happened because clearly, you’re too big of a mess yourself to deal with any of my shit.”

Rhys flinched. My anger dissipated on the spot. The full weight of what I’d just told him hitting me as I watched his face, his spirit - that beautiful lively spirit that was animating me back to life more and more each day - sink lower, lower, and lower.

Tentatively, I reached out my hand, but he backed away.

“I’m driving you home.”

“No, please - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” The words turned to ash in my mouth. I hadn’t let him apologize. Why would he let me?

“In the car now, or you can ride with Mor.”

He waited only long enough for me to realize that the offer wouldn’t last forever. Though I was scared out of my mind that I’d just made a horrible mistake, I chose to go with Rhys. I would choose to go with him every time, I vaguely thought. I was in way deeper than I realized.

And it would give me a chance to apologize on the ride home, but Rhys never quite let me get there. Every time I tried to say something, one look from him and the words died in my throat.

So there we were. I’d ruined it all between us maybe not just romantically, but as friends too. He’d taken care of me when I needed someone and I threw it back in his face.

He dropped me off at home and left without another word. I trudged up to my room glad that it was Thanksgiving break and I didn’t have to think about school in the morning. I didn’t even have work at the gallery this week.

Dad wasn’t around anywhere that I could tell, though I noticed his bedroom door was closed again. Accepting my solitary confinement for the remainder of the evening, I dug out my phone and texted Mor to let her know we’d left.

Oh my gosh, Feyre - what the hell happened??

I sighed staring up at the still blank ceiling of my bedroom. The skylight wouldn’t even show me the stars when night fell later on - not with all the clouds covering the expanse up.

Where did I even begin to explain?

You were wrong Mor. Wrong about everything.

xx

#myfic #beneath the stars #beneath the stars: a feysand fic #bts #feysand #feyre #rhysand #feysand fanfiction #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction