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kristeristerin · 1 year

Note

There’s not enough Tarquin content here so I was wondering if I could send in Tarquin x reader to Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) by Taylor Swift as a prompt for the drabbles you’re planning on writing? Thanks!

AN: Thank you so much for the ask! Tarquin is a character that I may not have chosen to do on my own, but after writing him I feel like I need to explore more with him! I hope you feel like I did him justice!

As Always my asks are open for more Taylor Swift song and ACOTAR pairings! (I'll take other requests too of course!)

Song: Mary’s Song (Oh My My My)

Pairing: Reader X Tarquin

Content Warning: None

Words: 860

Your hands were shaking as you looked around the Summer Palace. This was your first time returning to Adriata in over 50 years and while coming back home should feel like a happy occurrence, you can’t help but worry about seeing him again.

When you last saw Tarquin he’d just been the prince of Udrin, and the man you’d loved since you were children. Now though, you supposed, things would be different. While you could convince yourself that love would have been enough for the two of you when he was a prince, High Lords have a duty to uphold and marriage to a lesser fae was not part of that.

Varian gave you a tight smile as he held out an arm to you, “He’s been asking for you. Are you ready?”

“I’m not certain I’ll ever be ready to face him if I’m being honest,” you looked away from the Prince’s eyes as he led you through the palace hallways. Your eyebrows draw together when Varian turns not toward the High Lord’s study, but instead toward the doors leading to the back garden.

“He’s out there waiting for you,” Varian drops your arm and gives you a gentle push toward the doors.

When you step outside he’s facing away from you, instead choosing to look out at the ocean beyond the city. You are several feet away from him when you stop and drop into a low curtsy. “You wanted to see me, High Lord?”

You hear him turn, but you don’t dare look up.

“Y/N,” Tarquin laughs, “Surely you know we are far past these formalities. We’ve known each other since childhood after all.”

You rise but still don’t look him in the eyes. “I’ve never known you as High Lord, though.”

He steps forward and runs his hand through your hair, using it to gently raise your gaze to his, “I’d like you to.” He whispers before his lips brush yours in a gentle kiss. He steps away but grabs your hand before you can mourn the loss of his touch. “Come with me, I wish to show you something.”

He led you further into the garden to the all too familiar tree.

“Do you remember when we first met?” He asked as he pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around you.

You laugh at the memory. “I wanted Cressida and Varian to like me so bad. I followed them out here to meet their cousin, and you hated me. I believe you even threatened to throw me into the ocean that day.”

He looked away, biting his lip to contain his own laughter. “To be fair that wasn’t until after you had threatened to tell my mother that I wouldn’t be the Prince in your game of make-believe.”

“Mmm, yes, and fitting punishment for my crime,” you pull away from his grip and approach the largest tree in the corner of the garden. You touch the small carving in the tree and turn to him. “Do you remember this?” you ask in a small voice.

When he approaches you, Tarquin turns you toward the tree and wraps both of his arms around you. “Of course, I do,” his breath tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks. “This was the carving I made into the tree 9 years later when I finally agreed to be your prince. Nostrus was very cross with me for carving our initials into the tree.”

Smiling at the memory you turn in his arms so you’re face to face. “I always hoped I’d be your princess.” You murmur looking at him through your lashes.

Tarquin cupped your jaw and returned your smile, “Now I’m hoping you’ll agree to be the High Lord’s Lady. Perhaps not right away, but if you’ll let me court you again I know I can prove to you that we can have everything we once had, and so much more.”

His smile falters as you begin to cry, “Have I said something wrong, my love?”

“No,” you sniffle and then laugh at the horrid sound you made, “this is just unexpected. I thought you had asked me to join you here so you could tell me that we were through because a High Lord could never spend his life with a lesser fae.”

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he looked into your eyes, “There is nothing lesser about you. It’s the thought of you and the life that we could have together that got me through every day under that mountain. I’d be honored to be able to one day call you my wife, and our people would be better off with you at my side. Please, don’t think for a moment you're unworthy of anything, least of all me. I have loved you with all that I am since I was 18 years old, Y/N, and I will continue to do so for centuries more.”

You lift a hand to his cheek and lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Tarquin, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #tarquin #tarquin x reader #tarquin acotar #Tarquin fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship · 10 months

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Men pay a lot of money to get their name into Gwyn's exclusive black book - enough that, with careful planning, she's putting herself through law school debt-free. Once she's graduated, she can retire the high heels and little black dresses and get to work in the pursuit of justice that she and her sister never received.

Azriel Singer's profile intrigues her, with a smile that never shines in his eyes and a delectable body. But will his attitude get in the way of any future potential?

I am so fortunate to be chosen to write Ch.2 of this fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle 3 that has been coordinated by the amazing @azrielshadowssing

Part 1 was written by the incredible @hlizr50 and I hope I did this work justice!

Here is the link to Part 2, or read below!

TW: mentions of SA

ONE MONTH LATER

This had been a month from Hell. Gwyn was all but dying as she turned in her final assignment of the semester, thankful that she had somehow found the time to study and work a few extra nights of the week.

Gwyn had met with Tarquin the day after the disastrous meeting with Azriel. He was sweet and her saving grace over the last month. He didn’t want anything more than what she was used to offering - just a few weekends of fun. She made her rent with some cash to spare just from him alone.

It was all fine, but Gwyn couldn’t stop herself from venturing to Azriel’s profile, perplexed at what kind of bullshit someone had to go through in order to be such a massive asshole. He was hot, sure, and the kind of rich that would make paying off her college tuition look like a drop in the bucket. Had he been even a little less of dick, she might have milked him for all he was worth.

So fuck him.

But still… she couldn’t delete his profile off of her contact list. Couldn’t break that single connection to the man who equally perplexed and infuriated her.

Gwyn’s phone pinged, bringing her out of her stupor and back to reality. Her group chat with Nesta and Emerie consisted of funny memes, gossip, and the only source of true fun Gwyn had had in ages.

Nesta:

Let's go out tonight to celebrate!

Gwyn:

I am exhausted, Nesta. Maybe next time?

Gwyn entered her apartment and collapsed on the couch, ready to pass out and allow herself the bliss of sleep. Her phone went off again, and she silently cursed as she read the next message.

Emerie:

Take a nap and then join us! It isn’t everyday that you finish your second year of Law School, let alone in the top five of your class. You are a shoe in for any internship in the country. Take the evening off and just live a little!

Gwyn thought about it. When was the last time she really spent time with her best friends? Her weekends were filled with being whisked away on private jets to sunny beaches with Tarquin and her week days were jammed with studying and writing paper after paper. She had some money left over, and with this break coming up she could take on more clients than usual to get ahead of her bills.

Gwyn:

Fine, you win. Now you guys leave me be for the next 6 hours and then we can meet at Rita’s at 9pm?

Nesta:

YES! Finally!!!! First shot’s on me ;)

Emerie:

WOOOOOOO!

Emerie:

Ok, love. Get some sleep, because tonight we PARTY!

Gwyn chuckled at their enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before she set her alarm and passed out- content and excited for the night to come.

----

Gwyn, Nesta and Emerie strode into the club and headed straight for the bar opposite the dancefloor.

“Three tequila shots and lime, thanks.” Nesta said, gesturing to the male bartender, Balthazar. She had taken a martial arts class with him when they all attended Velaris University and he always hooked the girls up when they came in. He just smiled and brought them right over, ignoring the guys who seemed to be attempting to flag him down to bring them some beers. Nesta just gave them one of her cold smiles and they shut right up.

“Here you go ladies.” Balthazar crooned as he dropped 4 shots of tequila and a small bowl of limes down in front of them. He smiled at Gwyn kindly and she was alway happy to see a friendly, male face whenever she was here. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Gwyn. Finally crawling out of your den to join us in the land of the drunk and living?”

“If only you knew the half of it. I’m literally bending over backwards to finish this degree. You try finding the time to make the dean’s honors list in Law School, work your ass off, and still look this good in heels after a final’s week from hell.” Gwyn retorted back.

His gaze dropped to said heels appreciatively. Perhaps it took a moment longer than necessary for his eyes to crawl back up her legs to her smirking features, but Gwyn wasn’t complaining. He just put his hands up in silent surrender and passed out the shots to all of us.

Nesta held her glass out in a toast. “To the shit we have seen, and the shit to come. At least the booze and company are worth it all.” They all grabbed a lime slice, clinked their shots together, and knocked them back. Gwyn savored the heat of the tequila running down her throat.

As she slammed her glass down on the bar victoriously, Gwyn could feel someone watching her. Her neck tingled as a gaze- hard and determined- bore into her back. Turning towards the dancefloor, she scanned the room until her eyes landed on a pair of familiar hazel ones. Ones that she had ogled in fascination all month behind the comfort of her phone screen.

Azriel was standing there and staring directly at her. No trepidation. No hint of shyness about him all.

She couldn’t read his expression from so far away, but she could feel his eyes raking down her body - noticing her tight cobalt outfit. The skirt barely covered her most intimate areas and her crop top wrapped around the curve of her body as though it were tailored just for her. The fabric shimmered under the club lights, giving the illusion of moonlight on an ocean wave.

His gaze sent electricity sparking up Gwyn’s spine. For the first time in a long time, she felt exposed under his attention. Once Azriel’s eyes met hers again, she remembered the reason they were in this predicament and turned her back to him - deciding to ignore the source of her current vexation for the rest of the night.

Despite her best efforts to ignore him, Gwyn couldn’t help but feel Azriel’s piercing gaze on her back the entire time.

She just ordered another round of shots from Balthazar, whose doting attention was not unnoticed. When the shot glasses of vodka arrived, she turned around to see Azriel sitting in a booth on the other side of the club with two people she hadn’t taken notice of before. The man was as large as a tank. His long hair was tied up in a messy bun and Gwyn could spot some black swirling tattoos peeking out from the open buttons of his black dress shirt.

The woman, sitting on the other side of the long-haired man, was one of the most stunning women Gwyn had ever seen. Surely a model, her golden blonde hair fell in waves around her face and down her back. She was wearing a deep gold top that just barely covered her chest, with chains at the neck and back leaving her tanned skin utterly exposed. Her matching skirt had her shining like a gilded sunset.

“Looks like you have a secret admirer, Gwyn.” Nesta teased from beside her.

Gwyn scowled in reply, content to follow out her plans to have fun and not think about work for a night. Or for that matter, a pair of hazel eyes that saw entirely too much and a broad muscular form that appeared as though it were carved by a Renaissance artist. Why did he have to be such an asshole? Gwyn hated him for it.

“His friends aren’t so bad to look at, either,” Emerie said. I turned to look at her and found her eying Azriel’s blonde friend with predatory intent. She smiled a little to herself. Although Gwyn was determined not to get any tonight, she wouldn’t stop her friends if they wished to partake in a one-night stand.

Perhaps it was reckless, but Gwyn couldn’t help but stare Azriel in the eye as she took her shot, not bothering with a chaser. He leaned forward in his seat - his eyes tracking the small drop that seemed to escape Gwyn’s lips and ran down the side of her mouth. She wiped it with her thumb and sucked it off- refusing to let her gaze fall from his. Gwyn just winked at him and turned back to her friends.

She hoped he felt the same lick of fire creep up her depths and ricochet through her spine. She wondered if the air had gone thick with heat and tension for him as well. But Gwyn didn’t chance another glance over to him.

This was war, and she was determined to win.

“Let's go dance.” Was all she said, and her friends followed in tow.

-----

The dance floor was packed tonight. Rita’s was only a few blocks away from the university, so everyone was trying to make the most of their end of semester celebrations. The girls found their way to the middle of the dance floor and started jumping and swaying with the music. For a while, Gwyn forgot about the pair of hazel eyes that had been watching her all night.

At some point, Nesta had spotted the man who had come with Azriel, and she left without a further glance at them.

He was exactly her type: bold, dominant, and from the way he laughed, he was definitely a teddy bear at heart. Gwyn and Emerie started laughing to themselves at how the man’s jaw seemed to drop when he saw Nesta approaching him. When they approached each other, drifting as though attached to some magnetic force, the gaze they shared was so intimate, Gwyn almost looked away - but the liquor in her system had robbed her of that courtesy.

“How much do you want to bet that Nesta will be waking up in his bed in the morning?” Emerie joked, yelling slightly over the loud music.

“They are either going to hate each other or be inseparable. Time to start writing the wedding invitations now.” Gwyn yelled back. Both girls fell into a fit of giggles as they casually watched Nesta and man start dancing with each other at the edge of the dancefloor.

A few more songs passed by, and Gwyn was fully entranced by the music and tequila. She hadn’t had enough to be drunk, but she did have just enough to loosen her inhibitions. Maybe that was why she had teased Azriel relentlessly at the bar. Gwyn looked over to Emerie who seemed to be distracted, continuously staring at the blonde woman who had come with Azriel. It seemed the woman was staring at her right back.

“Go shoot your shot, Em. I will be fine. I was hoping to leave in a few songs anyways.” Gwyn said with teasing encouragement.

Emerie looked nervous, chewing on her lip as her eyes scanned Gwyn. “Are you sure? What if she isn’t into girls?”

Gwyn just squeezed her arm in gentle encouragement, “You will never know unless you go up to her and ask.”

Emerie stayed until the end of the song, trying to dance away her nerves. When one song flowed into another, she said, “Ok. I’m going. Are you sure you are gonna get home safe?” Gwyn knew Emerie was just trying to stall the inevitable, so she just laughed in return. “I’ll be fine, Em. Go. I will text you and Nesta when I get home.” It was always their unspoken rule. Every time they went out, they would text the group where they were headed after the club. It also helped that the girls shared their phone locations with each other - just in case.

Emerie took a deep breath and turned towards the booth where the blonde was sitting, only to find it empty now. Looking around confused, Gwyn couldn’t help but feel bad for Emerie when all of a sudden her friend turned behind her to find the blonde tapping her shoulder.

“Want to dance?” The blonde said, a warm smile washing over her face as she held out her hand.

Emerie took it without hesitation, “I would like that.”

Gwyn waved them off as she continued to dance by herself, just enjoying the flow of the music through her veins.

She told herself she would stay for two more songs, make sure her friends were ok, and then head home to change into sweats, eat ice cream, and stream Grey’s on Netflix thanks to Nesta sharing her account with Gwyn.

Midway through the penultimate song, a pair of hands gripped onto Gwyn’s waist. They were rough and felt wrong. The man pulled himself close, trying to dance with Gwyn but she was not in the mood to be manhandled today.

She tried to turn out of the man’s grip, to shuffle away with a swift turn to the beat, but the guy just squeezed her waist tighter and tighter until she was being pulled against her will.

Memories flashed through Gwyn’s mind.

Dancing at a freshman year frat party. Another man’s hands on her waist. Her saying no as he brought her into a spare bedroom and took what he wanted from her.

Gwyn stood frozen in fear, unable to say anything. She knew self-defense, of course. She had met Nesta and Emerie at a self defense course for women who had been through trauma. But there were too many people around her and she didn’t want to risk hurting anyone else.

She tried to pry the dude’s fingers off of her waist, but he just leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Want to go home with me tonight, princess? That pretty outfit would look even better on the floor of my bedroom.”

Gwyn shuddered in absolute disgust. What kind of douche just asks if you want to sleep with him without even introducing himself?

“I’m good, thanks. I was actually just heading out. Have a good night.” Gwyn tried to escape his grasp again, but he just held tighter and started roaming his hands down her sides.

“Come on, Princess. It will be fun. What do you say?” he said in her other ear. His beer breath bombarded her nose and all but made her gag. Gwyn just about had it with him and was about to damn the consequences, but suddenly those hands were jerked off of her.

In a startled haze, Gwyn turned only to find Azriel pulling the man off of her by the collar of his shirt. “The lady said she isn’t interested.” Azriel all but growled at the guy.

The guy stared up at Azriel and balked. Azriel stood a whole head taller than him, and the look on his face would send most people running in the opposite direction.

Gwyn couldn’t help but think that that look was kinda hot. Couldn’t help but bite her lip as heat swam through her depths, replacing the icy nausea that had made a home there just moments ago.

The guy just stared between Azriel and Gwyn in shock. He didn’t wait around, sparing her a scoff and leaving. Azriel turned to Gwyn, his dark gaze roaming over her. Looking to see if she was hurt, she realized.

“Are you ok?” He asked, taking a step towards her.

That set Gwyn into motion. She took a step back, flicked her hair over her shoulder in fake bravado, and said cooly, “I’m fine. Thanks for the help.”

She turned over her shoulder and walked right out of the club and into the cool summer breeze.

----

She was in the middle of texting the girls and calling an uber when the club doors swung open beside her. Azriel walked out the doors in a frantic huff. He turned frantically in place until he noticed her leaning against the brick storefront, then all but ran towards her in a frenzy.

“What the hell!?” He said in a panicked voice. “Why did you leave? I was looking everywhere for you.”

Something tickled Gwyn’s nerves. On the one hand, it was sweet that he was looking for her. So at odds with the asshole she had interviewed with last month. On the other hand… “Why? Just cause I am an escort doesn’t mean that you are entitled to my time.”

“I know, but-”

She cut him off before he could give some bullshit excuse. “You made it perfectly clear the last time we met that you wanted nothing to do with me. So what the fuck was all that inside?” She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration.

Azriel cringed at her comment. He loosed a sigh and looked down. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took in a shaky breath before he opened them to meet hers. “I’m sorry for how I treated you that day. I’ve been going through a rough time. My friends set me up and although their intentions are good, I wasn’t in the right headspace. Would you let me take you somewhere so I can explain?” His eyes were pleading. He actually looked sincere.

This emotional rollercoaster was taking Gwyn for a loop. She shook her head and scoffed. “I was just groped by a random dude in the club. What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you right now?”

Azriel’s eyes darkened with rage. He kept it bottled in as he said, “At least let me take you home. Maybe grab some food on the way? I just want to explain. Start over.”

Gwyn didn’t want to deal with this right now. She was at her wits end and just wanted to go home. “Why do you even care, Azriel? We met once, you were an ass, and life moved on. Just leave me be.”

Gwyn was done.

She was done with men who thought they were entitled to her because she sold her time and body. But there were still hers.

Hers to choose who to spend her time with.

Hers to choose when to give it.

But always her choice.

Gwyn started to turn to walk down the street and put some distance between her and Azriel, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. His grip was light and she could easily shake him off if she wanted to but something inside her was telling her to stay. To listen.

“Please, Gwyn. Just give me a chance to explain. If I can’t convince you to give me a second chance by the time I drop you off at home, you will never hear from me again. You can have anything you want, just- please.”

Gwyn stared at his eyes, and whatever she saw there made her sigh in resignation. She could ask for anything. A lot of her problems could be fixed with that kind of offer. She pulled out her phone and texted Nesta and Emerie.

Gwyn:

Taking a detour on my way home. Be safe!

She clicked off her phone and looked Azriel in the eyes, “Lead the way then, Singer.”

#gwynriel #acotar #gwynriel supremacy #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #azriel #nessian #emorie #gwyn is making azriel crawl for her #he will eat out of the palm of her hand #Gwyn is so hot and azriel is so hot #acotar writing circle 3 #acotar writing circle #this was so fun to write

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likecanyoujustnot · 4 months

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ACOSF- Feysand’s pov

Part 2: The reveal

A/n: do they have stoves in prythian? Idk. I’m saying they do. Also. Grovelling Rhys, I haven’t read a lot of things where they’ve had to grovel, so I hope it’s good. And nesta (😒). This is a very critical moment in the book, and in Feysand’s relationship. And I hope I did it justice.

Feyre

I was here far too late, spent too much time on this painting. Adriata, what it would look like once it was repaired. Rhys had shown me what it used to look like in his memories, the streets without rubble, with whole buildings, and happy people. Before Amarantha.

It was a small canvas to go in the baby’s- Nyx’s- nursery. A larger version leaned against the wall- a birthday gift for Tarquin.

I was finishing up the clouds in the sky when a frantic knocking sounded.

“Feyre?” It was… Varian.

Why was Varian knocking at this time of night?

I walked over to the door and opened it. He was shirtless and panting.

“What is it?” Something had happened. Fear shot through me. “Is it Rhys?”

He shook his head arm braced against the doorframe. “Nesta. She’s in Amren’s apartment. Pissed.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, I came to get you as soon as Nesta told me to get out, but she’s pissed- is that Adriata?” He looked behind me at the artwork. “It’s magnificent.”

I ignored the compliment, beckoning him to step out of the door so I could lock up.

“Come on.”

I couldn’t run, not without fearing I would hurt the baby. It was a delicate time, Madja had informed us less than two weeks ago, our most recent visit. When she had revealed the baby had wings. That it would make the labour more risky, which had caused Rhys to go pale. He’d been distant ever since.

“How did she even get down here? It’s ten thousand steps, that’s no easy feat.” We speed walked through the streets on our way to the apartment, I was grateful for Varian keeping pace with me, even though he probably wanted nothing more to run back there and protect Amren.

“I don’t know, she didn’t even seem winded.”

I reached out in my mind for Cassian.

Feyre. She’s in the city.

I know, she’s at Amren’s. Varian said she’s pissed.

Shit.

We got to the apartment and rushed up the stairs, there were shouts coming from inside.

“Stop this.” I was out of breath from running up all those stairs, but they both turned to me, Varian close behind. “Nesta, it should not have come out as it did.”

“Did Cassian tell you that?”

“No, but I can guess as much. He didn’t want to keep anything from you.” Cassian and my sister had a strange relationship, it was no secret they’d been sleeping together.

“My issue isn’t with Cassian.” She turned and glared at Amren “I trusted you to have my back”

The female glared right back, “I stopped having your back the moment you decided to use that loyalty as a shield against everyone else.”

“This conversation ends now. Nesta go back to the House. Amren you…” this was her house, and I knew better than to try and order her around “you stay here.”

Nesta let out a low laugh, “You are her high lady. You don’t have to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.”

She was beginning to piss of Amren, which was dangerous territory. “Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.”

“Is it respect she offers you? Is it respect that your mate offers you?” Nesta spat.

Amren hissed at her “Don’t you say one more fucking word, Nesta Archeron.”

“What do you mean?” Rhys-.

“Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?” There was nothing in her voice but cold, no feelings. And my heart stopped.

“Shut your mouth!”

It… couldn’t be true… Rhys- he would’ve told me. “What do you mean?”

“The wings, the boy’s Illyrian wings will get stuck in your fae body during labour, and it will kill you both.”

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Madja just said the labour would be risky. But the Bone Carver… the son he showed me didn’t have wings.” No no no. “Did he only show me what I wanted to see?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.” Nesta turned to Amren. “Did you all vote on that too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance?” I could hardly hear her over the pounding of my heart. “Didn’t you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn’t tell you.” Rhys. He- wouldn’t’ve. But clearly he had

I was shaking. I looked at the tattoo on my left arm, the death bargain. “If I die…” he dies too. No. “You… all of you knew this?” I looked at Amren, she was blurry through the tears.

“We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.”

“Rhys knew?” I was full-on crying now. It wasn’t possible. “About the threat to our lives?” Not just mine and Nyx’s, but to his as well. I looked down at the arm cradling my stomach. At our son. Who maybe I would never meet.

Amren said, her voice uncharacteristically soft, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Yes. Rhys. Fuck. He kept this from me, he knew I would die, and he didn’t tell me.

“I hope you’re content now.” Amren was talking, in the background, I didn’t hear it, didn’t see Nesta storm out the apartment, past Varian, standing there awkwardly.

Instead I covered my face with my hands and cried, sinking to the ground.

Rhysand

I hated meeting with the palace governors. It was boring, the same old stuff. Pointless, compared to the raging in my mind.

Feyre would die. Nyx would die. And I would die.

And I could do nothing to stop it.

All my life I’d had answers to any problem that faced me. And yet now when it came to saving the most important thing in my life, I was powerless.

I knew it was wrong to keep it from her. But I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her, to take away this thing that had brought us so much joy. And it was as Amren had told me “the fear could very well harm the baby”.

I was pathetic. And a coward.

I’d known for almost two weeks now. Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Mor, Nesta, Helion, Miryam, Drakon. They all knew

They all knew before Feyre.

I walked along the Rainbow. The rainbow Feyre had so bravely defended those years ago. I walked up to one of the railings on the edge of the bridge and looked at the water.

Sunday. Sunday. I would give Helion until Sunday to get back to me with anything. Or I would tell her regardless. Yeah. I could make us dinner, we could sit on the roof. And then I would break her heart.

Two days.

I’d done all I could think of, I’d gone and visited Miryam and Drakon on Cretea, and had left defeated. I asked Mor to make discreet enquires on the continent. I’d begged Helion to help us. On my knees. On the tattoos of the mountains and stars. I would kneel for no one. No one but my mate. And for the male I hoped could save her.

It was late. Feyre was probably at the studio. I smiled. I was so happy she’d found something, something that brought her joy. She would tell me stories of the children at her studio, at what that made her laugh, made her cry, made her excited to have our own child.

At the end of each week she would come home with the painting she’d been working on, pride on her face. And the paintings themselves incredible. It was pure talent.

She’d tried to teach me how to paint . I did not have the same natural ability she did. Private lessons usually ended with me taking her on whatever surface I could, ending up covered in paint.

I smiled at the memory. Turning to the road that would take me to the studio.

Rhysand.

Amren.

Come here, now. It’s Feyre

Fear shot through me and I reached across the bond for Feyre. Being met with nothing but her shields. I pressed against her consciousness, she usually let me in. I felt myself practically thrown from her mind, and I knew something was seriously wrong.

I winnowed to the entrance of Amren’s building, barging through the doors and running up the stairs.

I heard Feyre inside.

“You called for him.” She hissed.

“Yes I did, and I do not regret it.”

I through open the door and stopped. Feyre was lying on the floor glaring at Amren before turning to me.

“You.” She hissed. I flinched.

“You knew. You knew and you didn’t tell me.” Her voice broke, my heart with it.

Fuck. I understood, she knew about the wings.

“Feyre darling.”

“No.” She stood up, taking deep breaths. “Don’t do that.”

“Feyr-”

“How could you not tell me?! And to hear it from Nesta, of all people.”

I was missing a very big part of the story. But rage overtook my rational thought. Nesta. Fucking Nesta. She had done this.

Cassian.

Yes? He sounded grim.

Get Nesta out of the city before I kill her.

I didn’t wait for his response.

I approached Feyre, slowly, carefully, this stress would not be good for the baby.

“I’m so sorry, really I am, I know there’s no excuse, but I was afraid. And I’m so so sorry-” I tried to keep my voice calm, I took her face in my hands and wiping away at the tears on her cheeks, feeling them running down my own. Amren and Varian walked out into the hall, closing the door behind them.

She took a step back and my stomach dropped.

“Feyre-”

“Not right now Rhys.” She took a deep breath. “I need to calm down, if I don’t the baby could be hurt.”

Of course. Of course she’s just been told she’ll die and she’s thinking about the baby. My heart ached.

“I’m going to the cabin.” With that she winnowed away.

I fell to my knees. Sobbing.

I didn’t hear Amren open the door. Or poke me with her foot. I didn’t hear Azriel come into the apartment. I don’t know how he knew what happened. And I didn’t care as he hauled me up, throw my arm over his shoulder and winnowed us to the river house. As he half dragged me through the hallway and put me on the couch in the office.

My eyes were open, unseeing as he peered at me, shadows darting out, brushing my face, as if to confirm I was ok.

“You fucked up man.”

“I know.” My voice was hoarse.

“Get some sleep. Figure it out in the morning. Don’t do anything irrational.”

He walked over to the door.

“Good night brother.” His voice was soft as he left.

I woke up. Head pounding. Arms, back and neck stiff. I opened my eyes and saw I was in the office. On the couch. Feyre was always telling me I shouldn’t be sle-

Feyre.

The baby’s wings.

Nesta.

I wasn’t going to kill her. As much as I hated her, I hated myself more. And killing Nesta would only serve to piss off Cassian, and deeply upset Feyre and Elain.

So I would have to deal with the consequences.

I groaned and stood up. I was grateful for Az for bringing me here and not to our room. Probably would’ve upset me more. It was bad enough, the paintings hanging on the walls she had so carefully painted, her lingering sent.

It was like I had heartburn.

The door opened and I turned. Feyre-

No. Azriel.

“You needn’t look so disappointed.” There was a slight smile on his face.

“Cassian back?”

“I don’t think he’ll be back for a few days.”

I sat back down on the couch. My brother taking the spot across from me.

“So…” he began. “You fucked up.”

“You said as much last night.” I dropped my head into my hands. Fuck. “I- I thought I could find an answer. That I could tell her once I knew how to stop her dying. I could stop her hurting the baby from stress. That I could keep that joy in her eyes. Not replacing it with fear.” I looked up at Az.

“You should tell her that.”

“I don’t think she wants to talk to me at the moment.”

“You could try. Maybe she’ll hear you out.”

We were silent for a while. Az and I were like that. We didn’t need to fill the comfortable silence with unnecessary conversation.

“I’m no better than that asshole who looked her in his house.”

“Rhys.” There was a harshness in his words. “Don’t say that. You’re so much more, better, you’re selfless and courageous. Unlike him, you didn’t do it to control Feyre.”

“But I did it out of fear.”

“He did it out of fear he could not save Feyre when it was shown she could save herself. You did it to prevent her from feeling fear. To keep her as happy as you could, Rhys, even though it ate you up inside.”

I sighed. “It’s still no excuse.”

“What matters is not what you’ve done, it’s how you move on from it. You’ve made the mistake, you’ve shown regret for your actions. All you can do is beg and pray to the mother she will forgive you, and never do anything like it again.” Azriel’s face was calm, collected. He smiled a bit, “and pray she doesn’t chop off your dick.”

He was quiet most of the time, but Az had a sense of humour.

“I’ll go to the cabin after breakfast.”

Az stood up, and I clapped him on the shoulder, and hugged him. He thumped my back. And we walked down to the kitchen. On the way he filled me in that Cassian had told Nesta about the weapons, that we’d voted on it, and in a fit of rage, she’d descended the ten thousand steps and had gone to Amren’s.

Az left halfway through breakfast, saying he would otherwise have to deal with a few annoyed priestesses. I was glad he and Cassian were training them. Glad at the glimmer in Az’s eyes.

I would pay a visit to them one day. See their training.

“If I’m not back in two days, come look for me.”

He grinned as he winnowed out.

Feyre.

I had a plan in my mind. And hope in my heart. A foolish, childish hope, but hope nonetheless.

I had fucked up. And I would have to live with it.

Mother help me.

Feyre

That asshole. He knew. He knew. And I heard from Nesta. Said in the most condescending way, she hadn’t done it out of the goodness of her heart, she did it to hurt me.

I walked up to the cabin and threw the door open.

Maybe I would paint the whole thing black. Burn down the house.

No.

I would not let this anger, this pain, consume me. I would be strong. I would not let my child feel this.

I sat on the couch and looked around the house. It was the same as it was the last time we were here. When I had convinced Rhys to step away from the work for a few days. Safe to say work was the last thing on his mind.

I got up and looked in the cupboards, surely there would be some food. Yes. Soup and bread.

As the soup heated up I nibbled at pieces of the bread and contemplated what I would say to Rhys the next time I saw him.

He has this problem where felt he had to take the burden of all his problems himself. Cassian had said he’d been like that for as long as he could remember. Rhys felt that he could solve any difficulty that crossed him. And I knew that that’s what caused this. He couldn’t fix this problem. And it was killing him. I’d seen it in his haunted expression when he’d seen me on the floor in front of Amren.

Made worse because it was his genes that caused the wings.

But just because he had a reason didn’t make it right.

He’d show up in the morning, I knew that.

I put the soup in a bowl and sat at the table.

“Why’d you have to have wings, mmh?” I frowned at my stomach. “Couldn’t’ve just been born like your daddy, could you?”

I washed up the dishes and headed to the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, still covered in paint from the studio, pale, scared.

I washed the paint off my arms and face and got changed into a spare change of clothes.

The bed smelt like Rhys. I stared at the ceiling, I’d painted stars on it not that long ago, Rhys watching me with adoration on his face.

I fell asleep to that memory, hands on my stomach.

The sun was blaring through the window, I’d forgotten to close the blinds. My head pounded as I groaned and rolled out of bed. I wasn’t that far along but things had gotten harder.

I walked out of the bedroom and froze at the scene I saw.

Rhys.

Standing in the kitchen, wings out, wearing a tight black shirt, grey sweatpants and making, eggs?

The male knew I didn’t stand a chance against his cooking.

“What are you doing?”

“Omelette.” He turned to me and smiled.

So that’s how we were doing it then.

“I don’t want you here.” I crossed my arms.

“I know. That’s why I’m making you breakfast.” He flipped the omelette onto the plate and took it over to the table. “Eat.”

I remembered when I’d accepted the mating bond, put food in front of him and said that same word. Last time I’d been pissed at him too.

I slipped into the seat furthest from him and used my magic to bring the food to me. My hands were shaking as I brought the fork to my mouth.

He watched me intently. “How are you doing?”

Setting the cutlery down I replied, “Considering I’ve just been told the child I’m carrying will kill me, I’m okay.” He flinched. But I went on. “And having to hear it from my sister who probably would be happy if I did die, and only told me because she’s upset and unstable. Oh and that my mate has known for close to two weeks and not fucking told me.” My voice broke on the last word.

The chair screeched as Rhys got up and knelt in front of me.

He tucked my hair begin my ear. “I’m so fucking sorry.” I held his gaze as his hands came around mine in my lap. “Nothing I can say, nothing I can do will change what I did, and I will have to live with that. I fucked up. I thought that Miryam and Drakon would have a way.” So that’s why he’d been so haunted when he’d come back from Cretea. “Or that Helion would have something in his libraries.”

“You asked him to look the other day.”

There was pure agony in his expression as he said. “I begged him. I fell on my knees and pleaded with him to help me find a way to save you.” His gaze went to my stomach. “To save both of you.”

On his knees. On those tattoos that meant he wouldn’t kneel for anyone.

“Does he know how to save us?” My voice was barely there.

“I don’t know. I was going to give him till Sunday to get back to me. Or I was going to tell you anyway.” He looked defeated. “I’d wanted to, sweetheart, I really did. But I couldn’t take that happiness out of your eyes. I couldn’t replace it with fear, apprehension.”

We were both crying now.

“You hurt me, Rhys. You broke my trust.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I know, Feyre darling. And I swear I won’t do it ever again.”

“You better not.”

He smiled and kissed my forehead. “I’m so sorry. And I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. However long it takes.” His hands went to the sides of my face, wiping away my tears. “You are the best fucking thing in my life, Feyre, my mate, my wife, my love, my best friend, the mother of my child, my high lady, and I love you, so so much.”

A choked sob escaped my mouth. “I’m still pissed at you.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

My arms went around his neck and I burried my face in his neck. “I love you.”

And as he kissed me, and I almost forgot that we would have to go back to reality, to a world in which we would both die unless we could do something.

We lay in bed, arms and legs entangled, hair mussed and bodies sore.

“Rhys.” My voice was hoarse from screaming.

“Yes?” He smoothed back my hair.

“If… we die… who will be high lord?” The question had been on my mind since the truth had been revealed.

“Since I don’t have any children, brothers or uncles, probably a distant cousin in the Hewn City.” He paused. “We’ll have to write a few things, make sure Mor, Cass, Az and Amren are protected by the law, ensure Velaris passes into good hands and remains safe.”

“It… couldn’t be Keir could it?”

Rhys pressed a kiss to my temple. “Highly unlikely. He already has a high up position, and is very old.” He sighed. “Don’t worry about what will happen. Helion might still find something.”

“You don’t look so sure.”

He laid his head on me, right above my stomach, one hand resting on it. He remained quiet

“I don’t need you to worry about scaring me.”

There was a poignant silence and he started tracing patterns on my bare abdomen. “I’ve been around Illyrians my entire life. And I’ve never heard of there being a way to bypass the issue of a High Fae female’s pelvis not being able to pass a winged baby.”

“What does Madja think?”

He looked up at me. “She thinks that shifting… might be the best course of action.”

“But we don’t know how shifting will affect the baby.”

“Yes, but it could save you.”

“Rhys.”

He sat up. “Shifting would make sure you survive the labour.”

I sat up. “I won’t shift and doom Nyx.”

“Feyre, if there’s any way to save you, I will do it, I will put your life first. I would rather suffer the loss of our son than lose you.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “I won’t lose you, Feyre. I can’t lose you.”

I thought over it, it could save me and Rhys, and as he said, the loss of the baby would be devastating, but nothing if we died too. “As a last resort Rhys, only then will I shift.”

I knew that the pain in his eyes was reflected in mine. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

We wrapped our arms around each other. Whatever happened, we would face it together, as we always had.

A/n: again, it’s a very temperamental scene. And hopefully I did it well. (Though I probably made feyre a bit quick to forgive, but like Ive never really read anything with an extreme amount of grovelling so…)

Feedback appreciated

#acosf feysand pov #sarah j maas #acotar #feyre archeron #feysand #rhysand #acosf #acotar fanfiction

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achaotichuman · 5 months

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Chapter 23 of A Court of Song and Desolation is out now! Summary- She had eyes like starlight and a grin that could outshine the moon, "We'll rule the world."

"What if we fail?"

"Then we'll burn it all down."

In hindsight maybe it could only have ever ended like this. Making a man who was never made to rule, High lord. This was all inevitable.

With his Court in ruins and everyone gone, Tamlin lives amongst the broken pieces of his Court and has no intentions of changing that. Lucien, however, will not stand to leave his oldest friend alone.

When Lucien takes Tamlin back to the human lands, they discover a darkness coming for Prythian. If something does not stop it, it will completely rewrite the way Faeries and humans alike live as they know it

*Previously titled Get out while you still can! (Please don't leave me)*

*Alternative Summary- Magic dumbasses obliviously pining for each other try to save the world.

Fandom- A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J.Maas

Chapters- 22/71

Rating- Explicit

Archive Warnings- Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Categories- M/M, F/M, Multi, F/F

Relationships- Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra, Past Tamlin/Feyre Archeron, Past Lucien Vanserra/Jesminda, Azriel/Eris Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Tamlin & Lucien Vanserra, Tamlin & Eris Vanserra

Characters- Tamlin (A Court of Thorns and Roses, Lucien Vanserra, Original Female Characters, Jurian (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Vassa (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Andras (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Original Male Characters, Elain Archeron, Eris Vanserra, Azriel (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Death-God Kosechi, Morrigan (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Cassian (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Nesta Archeron, Tarquin (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Tamlin's Brothers (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Amren (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Additional Tags- Tamlin Redemption (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Depression, Eating Disorders, Slow Burn, Justice for the Hewn City, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Secret Relationships, Mating Bonds, shape-shifting magic, Flashbacks, Self-Harm, Found Family, Abandonment Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Grief/Mourning, Day Court magic, Bisexual Elain Archeron, bisexual Tamlin, Forced Marriage, Welcome to Tamlin's Bisexual Panic, Exploration of Spring Court Magic, anger issues, repressed trauma, Panic Attacks, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pining, Mutual Pining, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Demisexuality, Overthinking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Eventual Smut, Torture, More Hurt before Healing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Elain Archeron being the best, Blood and Gore, Horror, Rebellion, Body Horror

Series- Part One of A Court of Outcasts, Thieves and Assassins

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stargirlie25 · 3 months

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Astronomy xSJM (Just call me delusional)

Mars-The red planet. This planet was named After Ares who was the god of bloodlust and violet warfare in Greek mythology. Mars is considered in Roman mythology the ´´God of war´´.

I feel like this might Resemble Cassian. Cassian is the general of the illyrian army and is their leader. He is a powerful warrior. Also his siphons are red.

Venus. This planet was named after the roman goddess of Love and beauty. This planet makes connections with Gwyneth Berdara. The feeling/image of Gwyn is, A thing of secret lovely beauty. If you search up a picture of the goddess it is a red haired female.

There is a white ribbon in her hair.....

This is Eris. One of the largest dwarf planets in our solar system. I don´t really know, its orange and its name is Eris soooo Eris vanserra.

Earth. In ancient Roman religion and mythology, Tellus Mater or Terra Mater ("Mother Earth") is the personification of the Earth. She is also known for being the Goddess of Nature.

Terra symbolizes the profound connection between humanity and the natural world

This could resemble Elain Archeron. Elain loves to garden and grow flowers which is an example of the natural world.

Not to make these about ships (i totally am) but luciens last name means ´´Ḿan of the Mountains¨

This is one of the pictures that appear while searching ¨Éarth roman mythology´´

There is a fawn,flowers and brown haired female which can all be related to Elain Archeron.

Neptune-named after the God of the sea. This could resemble Tarquin because duh them water powers.

Then there is obviously ´´Nyx´´ which we all know it means ´´he goddess of night but its also a proposed stellar stream that wraps around the Milky Way galaxy, relatively close to the sun.

The sun. We know in Greek mythology there is a Sun Named Helios which is sooo close to Helion. Then there is Apollo, God of light and Justice. That COULD be Lucien. I could research more about this but here are some pictures i found in regarding the suns mythology.

This is one of the pictures that show up for ´´The sun goddess´´

Gives me Elain vibes and her seer powers.....or light yk

Anyways dont come for me if this isnt 100% accurate (its not) This is all for funsies!

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shi-daisy · 10 months

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Clare Beddor bansee...Girl you are galaxy brained omg!!! Please tell me we're getting Clare and Nesta friendship and Feysand dunking!

I love how you didn't have the others hide the fact that Feyre was the one to give Clare's name but they didn't vilify her either even if they could've and all hate what she's done. Same thing with Rhysand. They tell Clare everything and she's the one who's allowed to be angry or grateful, and she's very angry! Love it so much and I can't wait to see her confront them.

Also Azalea x Tarquin is new otp those two would look soooo good 👀 I need more

Thank you anon! I'm so happy everyone is loving banshee Clare. Justice for my baby girl she literally did nothing wrong!

Yeah I've already had Feysand creepers arguing everyone is taking the Night Court in bad fate which like...They're allowed to?! Feyre destroyed Spring, indirectly caused Daphne's death and didn't stand up for Nesta, then Rhysand wants to be High King (hahahahahahahaha no), almost causes Tamlin to kill himself and locked Nesta up and forced her to help with his bullshit schemes. They're allowed to hate them and worst. But ya know if this was Sarah's book she'd say Spring are the villains for being mad. Though luck dudes my name ain't Sarah and I'm not excusing them.

I had the squad tell her everything upfront not only because she deserves to know but so that the Feysand crowd can't say they didn't tell her the truth that Rhysand 'helped' (would've helped more if you didn't tell Amarantha anything but you stupid fuck) and that Feyre didn't she would die. Clare gets the whole truth but she's still allowed to be mad and say 'Nah fuck them, their little oops cost me my human life and my entire family. They going down'

Confrontation will take a while but we shall get more Clare, both her being besties with Nesta learning about fae life and coming to terms with everything.

Oh glad to hear you like Azalea and Tarquin. It's one of my fave plot threads and I'm looking forward to writing them more. Sarah really made this gorgeous yet shy dude and did nothing with him because she was busy thirsting over Rhys *gag* I wanna change that, plus I feel he'd vibe with a smart yet flirty wife.

#ask #anon #acotar ask #clare beddor #nesta acheron #pro nesta #anti feyre #anti rhysand #anti feysand #tarquin #azalea ambrose #tarquin x oc

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sideralwriting · 1 year

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Merry Christmas to you @reverie-tales! I’m glad I was your Secret Santa and I’m sorry if this fanfiction reaches you on Christmas day already. I didn’t like how the old fic was turning out so I decided for another twist. Tarquin had to go XD I hope it isn’t too heavy to read, I never wrote this many words ahaha.

Merry Christmas again and thanks to @acotargiftexchange for planning the event!!

Feysand fanfic, modern AU. Word count: 4115. TW: Tamlin & Ianthe (aka the manipulation squad), NSFW (my giftee likes a lil angst and good spices atm eheh).

Edit: Summary: Every aspect of Feyre’s life as fiancée of Tamlin is carefully approached by her future father-in-law but everything changes the day she runs into Morrigan.

What a treasure you are

Feyre got out of the SUV in front of her favorite museum on a sunny June afternoon. That was her favorite place and spent most of her free time there, which amounted to basically half a day.

Tamlin had sent Ianthe later that morning to escort her to her outings and she was trying to enjoy every bit of it. Not that her routine was any different since she finished college last year: wake up, have breakfast — her new obsession was avocado toast with only avocados and sesame seeds on an almost burnt bread slice— clean the house and get out of it before 1 PM.

Feyre saw Tamlin only when he came home later into the night and before he went to work, right before she was fully awake. She was grateful to him for working enough to allow them to have a life together, but she missed doing something, anything, even if it was in order to ease his stress. Tamlin's rage grew by the day. Out of frustration for his job as his father's and Amaratha's assistant, for sure, nonetheless she was afraid. Feyre didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even herself, nor she wanted to admit that Ianthe was more the controlling kind of person than actually a family friend.

So she escaped her reality with a year-long membership to her favorite of the Prythian’s Spring Court Museums.

Feyre’s pale green dress with ridiculously big puffy sleeves had been Ianthe's "gift", accurately chosen to show off her fair skin and "bring justice to Tamlin's family name". Obviously Feyre hated it with burning passion. That day she didn't put any sunscreen on because she didn't think it would be necessary. She wasn’t Tamlin’s or his father’s creature to manipulate as they pleased. She wanted freedom to do as she pleased, without it to be judged and reported back to them. Feyre wanted to paint and paint, she wanted to be someone on her own, wanted to sell her paintings to sustain her family and travel to the mountain at least once. So she strolled through the art gallery, Ianthe a few steps behind her, waiting for her opportunity to start living again. She applied for every exhibition but her soon to be father-in-law had connections everywhere in the city and made sure she couldn’t take part in it even changing the dates of a few major events.

Feyre sat on a cream divan in front of the painting of a pink cherry tree, leaning against the highest part of the divan at her right.

Father-in-law. Husband. Tamlin’s wife. That’s what her life was bound to be the moment her father asked for a loan to the man. Feyre’s father was called the Prince of Trading before he lost everything because of a hurricane. He then asked Tamlin’s father, a collegue of his, some financiary help to pay off a couple of major debts… Creating a bigger one. Feyre’s wedding was to be an alliance between the traders. An alliance she loved at first, to help her family and being loved by a caring man. Everything started to change as Tamlin had more pressure, his temper started rising, they started arguing. What she hated more was that she couldn’t reply, nor help. Feyre had just to suppress her own frustration and avoid him as much as she could, bonus if she managed to endure Ianthe’s meddling. “Are you going to stare at that particular thing for long, Miss?” Mother above, the woman truly brought the worse out of her. Feyre turned her head slowly toward the guard and glued a dumb smile on her face.

“I’m sorry, Ianthe, what were you saying? This art piece is magnificent, isn’t it? The colors are so pale that you can feel the sadness-"

“I’m regretful to remind you of this in such a nice place, Miss Feyre,” the woman sure enough of her position that she interrupted her boss’ fiancée, “but Mr. Tamlin didn’t send me only for company. I’m here to accompany you to buy the new dress for Mrs. Amarantha’s charity party”. Right. Because why else would anyone approach her? Feyre sighed and got up from the divan. “You’re right, Ianthe”, she agreed, “you are not here for company.” The guard flinched and her cheeks reddened in anger. “Lead the way, now”.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

The little bell on the boutique’s door jingled as Feyre and Ianthe entered the place. They were greeted by a dark-haired woman with chocolate eyes. “Welcome to Windheaven, ladies. I’m Mrs. Hilda, the seamstress. How can I help you?”

Feyre explained to Mrs. Hilda what the occasion was and most of all who the host was. After the tailor asked her to undress and step on the platform at the center of a private room, the woman took her mesurements and started sketching, draping fabrics over Feyre’s waist and shoulders. Feyre took her time enjoying the fabrics and trying to remember as many details as she could for her next painting: lilac walls, dark brown partitions, a big fuzzy white carpet. Ianthe kept nugging at the tailor’s sketches and Feyre was glad that no one ever tried to do the same thing with her paintings… for now. How would things change after she got married? After she had to give Tamlin an heir?

She turned to avoid panicking in front of a stranger and most of all in front of her guard when she lifted her gaze and saw it.

Her first painting, her first sale. A lake of starlight with weeping willows caressing the white waters. How had it ended up there? Her dorm roommate bought it, did she sell it in turn? Did someone steal it? “How-” she starded, but right at that moment the door slammed wide open and a lean figure entered the room submerged in fabric rolls

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Ianthe yelled, “Have you no decency for customers? Ask for forgiveness and get out right now!” but neither the newcomer nor Feyre were listening to her since the first one put down the fabric rolls near Hilda and turned. Feyre had recognised those footsteps as soon as she heard them. They jumped as her heart did. Because in front of her, in a wonderful red dress and blonde ponytail stands her best friend. The moment their eyes met, tears started flowing down her cheeks, warm, big tears that mirrored the ones on her friend’s cheeks.

“Miss Feyre Archeron! It’s been a year since I last saw you.” The chestnut eyes of the blonde woman brightened as she hugged Feyre as thight as she could. “Mor…” She smelled of citrus as always and Feyre would be forever grateful for even that didn’t change in her friend. In Feyre’s own life. So she hugged her tighter because words failed her. “I know”, the first one said, “I missed you too, my dear friend”.

“This is outrageous! Get out or I’ll-“ Feyre glared at the stupidity of her guard and debated how to get rid of her once and for all. “You will do what exactly, Ianthe? I know this woman-“

“But she isn’t approved-“ “Silence, Ianthe. Last time I checked it was thanks to me you still had your job, so go breathing some fresh air.” Her heart kept thundering and her hands trembled, “And next time you interrupt me, you’ll be done for.”

“How did my painting get up there?” Feyre asked, sitting on the plushy carpet. Ianthe stormed out of the room and she got dressed in the frilly green dress. “Mrs. Hilda is my aunt,” answered Morrigan over a cup of tea. The seamstress saluted with a pencil in hand and a mischievious grin before returning to her sketches. Then, “Morrigan always told me about her ‘super-talented best friend forever’ and the day she bought it she gifted it to me so that it could bring me joy everyday. And it did.”

New tears thretened her eyes whe she turned from the middle aged woman. Obviously her old friend didn’t miss a thing, though. Mor gripped her hands together, “What happens, Fey? Tell me all about it”. Probably it was her memories or her friend’s presence or the tea, anyway she crumbled. She told her about her father’s debts, how she will have to marry Tamlin, how she had no control over her life, Tamlin’s behaviour. Even Feyre’s phone was closely examined by Ianthe everyday so it was better for Morrigan not to have it. The eyes of her best friend blackened as she told her about her life, stroking Feyre’s head in confort.

That day, Feyre left the boutique with more hope than she had in a while. She had to know that it couldn’t last long, though. As soon as her SUV reached the manor's parking lot, she knew something was up. First of all, Tamlin's own car was there too and it was only six in the afternoon. Second thing was Ianthe's smirk since she saw the other car too.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

December has always been Rhysand's favorite month. Lights everywhere glittering like stars, laughing people, warm beverages and snowball wars. He strolled through the city aiming for his favorite jeweler. Amren needed a new pair of earrings more than her life and Rhys was determined to buy his old friend the best pair Velaris had to offer. He was almost done with everyone's gifts, the pile of them from his family growing under his own tree. They got so excited that most of them tried to shake and even sniff the packaging to understand what the hell was inside of it. Somehow his Inner Circle has found him trustworthy enough to place everything at his home. Sometimes he regretted giving them the keys, but he loved them a lot. There was only one gift he still had to buy.

Morrigan's friend, Feyre, had lived with his cousin since September. They met a few times and even though her expression looked haunted most of the time, her witty replies made him loudly laugh. Pair that with how she called him a prick on different occasions and he had fallen in love. Hard and sudden. He wanted Feyre to start smiling again and wanted her to feel safe around him. He wanted to make her feel the most loved person on this planet. Mor and Feyre left for a three week holiday in Italy getting themselves drunk on shopping and nice food almost every day.

After purchasing Amren's earrings and a brooch, he found himself in front of his mother's boutique.

"My, what have I done for my son to come visit me at work?" his mother greeted him. "As if I don't come in here every other week, mother," Rhys replied, kissing the woman's cheek.

Hilda was finishing putting together a sleeve for the soft white dress on a stand behind her. "It's Morrigan's. I thought she would love a dress for Solstice day. Do you like it?"

"It will be perfect on her, your skills amaze me every time," he confessed, "what about that one, though? What is it made of?" A fine dress of the palest blue caught his eyes, shining in the low light from the ceiling, the trail pooled as a lake of stars. What kind of fabric was even that? "Feyre's dress. Oh, don't be so surprised, honey. She needed it after all she went through."

He sighed. "What happened to her, exactly? Morrigan threatened to kill me when I mentioned I wanted to ask Feyre about it." "Well…," Hilda hesitated. It wasn't like her and an angry calm set over him. What happened to the young woman? "Back in June she came in here looking for a dress. She and Mor recognized each other and an argument started between Feyre and the Miss who accompanied her. Someone sent word that a dress was no more needed and your cousin didn't see her again since Feyre showed up at her apartment and asked if she could move in. She was engaged, you see, had some arguments with her betrothed because of the other woman and called off the engagement."

Why wasn't Rhys aware of any of this? He picked out the phone but a gentle hand caressed his shoulder, the other taking away the phone. "You are trembling, Rhysand. Sit here. Sit."

"How can I help her, mom?"

"Be there for her. Support her but don't bring it up if she doesn't. " He sat there in silence for long enough that he was startled when Hilda sent him home. "Is this the only way?" he asked, getting up from the stool and pressing the second gift —a brooch of a Solstice flower made of rubies and diamonds— into her hand.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Feyre was glad that Azriel and Cassian drived Mor and her back to Mor's apartment. What she didn't expect was for Tamlin to stand in front of it. Arguing with Rhysand.

“Give her back now, Rhysand. You won’t be enough for her anyway.” yelled Tamlin. “Oh really?” he turned towards the group, “And here I thought that she ran away to me because of my beautiful face and because she’s not an object.” The smirk he gave Feyre turned her from white pale to tomato red in less than a second. How could Tamlin still try to take her back? She broke every tie she had to her family, her father’s debt aside. He should respect her decision and yet he didn’t. It was at that moment that she noticed the open door between the two men and the chaos inside.

She felt her anger rise. Did Tamlin look for her inside? “Why are you here, Tamlin? I’m not coming back.” Anger and frustration filled her head as she walked toward the males. “I won’t be your wife. Go marry Ianthe instead, after all she has warmed your bed since we got engaged.” She sided with Rhysand, his steady warmth and scent anchored her. She looked toward Rhys’ face. “He actually has a beautiful face.”

Tamlin launched himself toward Feyre to grab her but Rhysand was faster. He circled her shoulders and pulled her away, while Azriel and Cassian pulled a yelling Tamlin toward the exit of the building. Her heart thundered. What had just happened?

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Rhys was calling her but she couldn’t look at him. Tamlin had just- “Look at me, Feyre darling. Good girl, like that. We’ll go for another trip just the two of us, okay?” Rhysand’s blue eyes were almost violet with the Solstice lights in the hallway. She fell in love all those months ago with how they seemed to shine just for her. She fell in love with how caring he was even without knowing what happened. Feyre nodded and Rhysand escorted her to his car.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Four days later they reached the destination. The log cabin Rhysand drove her to was in the middle of the highest mountains in Prythian. It faced a wide lake with a few other houses here and there, a thick layer of snow covering everything in sight, brightly lit by the sun. Peace and quiet reached her ears.. together with Rhys’ pants and grunts. Why was he even doing those sounds? They make her feel so tense and weak at the same time. She turned from the landscape to find Rhys pushing her luggage inside. A huff escaped from her lips as she walked to him, helping with pulling their luggages over the wooden porch.

“And this is why Mor was expelled from the common room the third year of college” finished Feyre drinking some wine in front of the fire. The rooms were full of wood and light colors, with a big hearth in the living room. She had propped her legs up on the sofa, a soft blanket over her, while Rhysand was in front of her on the same sofa. He was laughing at the stories she shared with his cousin, only once they talked about Tamlin and decided he wasn’t worth the thoughts. His brothers were already taking care of his charges anyway, so all she had to do at the moment was relax. And wine always made her relax.

“You know,” she braved to tell him, “I actually like you, Rhysand.”

He swung his wine once, twice. “It's Rhys. And do you, now?”

“I do.” She gulped. “I started liking you the day you brought me to a dance lesson instead of Mor,” Feyre laughed. “I didn’t know I danced so badly with Tamlin.”

Rhys was silent for a second. “He knew that you are a treasure, Feyre darling. Every man you will choose to settle down with has better to acknowledge it, or I’ll be the one to teach him.”

The blush on her cheek wasn’t from her drink. “Well, you already know it”. Rhysand sat up and leaned over her. Then he started brushing her hair. It was so normal but she felt like a starving woman anyway. She'd been since that day in September. “What is it that you want, darling?” she got up on her elbows. She could feel his warm breath against her lips, mere inches apart. She met his gaze and raised a hand against his face. She felt alive again as they danced like the first time. “You.”

The kiss was hungry and sweet, soft but demanding. Their lips tasted like the finest wine they were drinking. Rhysand felt Feyre melt under his love and he couldn't believe that he would find someone who loved him this much. He had lovers but he never felt like changing into a better person with them. Feyre moaned in his mouth and it was his undoing. Rhys got up and scooped her up in his arms. In what seemed to be a second, he was at the top of the stairs with Feyre on his lips. In his room there were already dim lights on. Feyre broke the kiss long enough to examine the bedroom and laughed.

"What? Not in a Solstice mood?"

"Oh no, who wouldn't love to have sex on a four-poster bed covered in cotton balls and yellow Solstice lights?"

He grinned, "That's the spirit, darling". Rhysand put her down and slowly, oh so slowly, proceeded to undress her from the pullover, then her shirt. The leggings were the last he pulled away. Feyre was left with her little red lacy underwear in front of Rhysand, who knelt before her. Feyre averted her eyes. How was it possible that she loved the man like this? How was it possible that he loved her enough to kneel at the sight of her? It was in that moment that he entangled fingers with hers. "Are you sure of this, love?"

"I am. Only, how can you love me when I called you a prick? What if you leave me, too?" "I'm not him, Feyre. I won't leave you" confirmed Rhysand. "And I've been called worse, don't worry. Let me show you how much I love you." She smiled laying on the bed: of course he had to be right every time. Rhys undressed quickly, coming on top of her. He kissed her lips, sucked her neck. His hands roamed from her fingers to her peaked breasts, circling around the top of one to the top of the other. Feyre arched her back and Rhysand sneaked a hand beneath it to unclasp the lacy bra. He kissed his way to the peaks and Feyre felt her belly melting and tightening at the same time.

"What is it that you want, love? Do you want me to kiss every inch of you?" He showed her how under her breast. "Do you want me to suck? Or maybe you just want me to touch you." A whisper with no sound left her lips. He kept licking and massaging down, down, all the way down to her core where he didn’t stop once. He enjoyed what he was doing but looking at him worshipping her center with his tongue was a sight she knew she wanted to paint. A warm sensation started to build in her head and she couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Rhysand…”

“Don’t call me like that”, his teeth scraped the interior of her thigh. “Try again, sweetheart.” This man. She was going to let him pay. Later.

“Rhys, please”. His tongue came back against her folds and she arched as he murmured praises for her bedroom manners. He was building Feyre up so much that she was almost at the end as Rhysand withdrew from her sight. “What. What are. You doing, Rhys?” She couldn’t think, could breath fast enough. “I’m getting ready for you, my love” and as soon as he said this, Feyre found him next to her on the bed, a condom on his dick. Between the soft mattres, the cotton balls and the strings of fairy lights, Rhysand looked like a fairy king out of her favorite stories. “Come up here”, Rhys ordered patting his thigh. Feyre did as he wanted, sitting right upon his member. But she had never been good at following orders without a little ‘Feyre-twist’ and that day it wasn’t any different.

She shifted, starting to kiss and suck Rhysand’s neck as he first did, her heands learning about tatoos and muscles she didn’t even know existed. She reached between his legs and began pumping. “Fuck, Fey. There, like this. You’re wonderful” He praised her again, his hands on her hips and trying to thrust into her. “Not like that, dear,” she purred into his ear, “let me show you how to do it properly.” With a grin on her face she moved him to her folds where Feyre created a new rhythm before getting down on his member. She felt her body stretch and adapt as soon as his head entered, a new rush of hot temperature creating again a fog in Feyre’s head. She took it all in before she began moving again. “You fill me perfectly, Rhys. Can you feel how much I want you?” He merely nodded, eyes heavy with pleasure. “Then don’t stop. You’re so good, please don’t stop. I-I love you too, Rhys”. They kept moving and praising each other until they broke at last.

Both panting, they hugged each other for a few minutes before taking a quick shower -it may or may not have included more kissing and asks about being a couple- and falling asleep hugging each other.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Rhysand woke up before dawn between the arms of the most beautiful woman he ever saw. He traced her face with a light finger before casting a chaste kiss on her lips and leaving the bed.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Feyre woke up in an empty bed and felt as if everything had been only a dream. She put up the clothes Rhys had brought in the morning before and headed downstairs. She expected a few scenarios but not her new boyfriend mumbling Solstice songs under his breath while being submerged in coffee and biscuits and pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup. With his good trousers on. Only with the good trousers on. “Happy Solstice, Feyre darling!” He told her with the widest smile ever before twirling her around and kissing her. They were both laughing at the end of it.

“Happy Solstice, dear! Tell me now: did you cook all this?”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t let my girlfriend starve on the longest night of the year, could I? Now then, grab that bag and go change.”

The dress was stunning. It looked like it was crafted out of snow and light. “Where did you buy this dress?”

“That? Oh, my mother did it,” he answered before turning. His jaw dropped in a perfect O as soon as she saw her. Hair braided and barefoot in a dress of small pale gems, she felt crafted for it. “My-my mother has a boutique, the one where you met Mor back in June. This cabin is also hers.” He put a few plates on a table in front of the biggest window. The view showed the rising sun in a clear sky, over the frozen lake in a snowy landscape. Feyre made a mental note to recreate the landscape as soon as she was back, together with the previous night’s image.

She sat at the table. “You know Rhys, I wouldn’t mind being reintroduced to your mother and thank her for the dress.” Rhysand laughed “She already loves you, darling.”

#acotar gift exchange 2022 #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #feysand #feyre x rhysand #pro feysand #acotar morrigan #modern au

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euphorial-docx · 9 months

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an updated breakdown of the social groups (aka affiliations) in my jegulily/dorlene/wolfstar deadly class au wip!

*and i know a lot of these groups from the most popular/stereotypical cities in the countries they are from, but i only chose those cities based on where organized crime is most concentrated. i looked at organized crime from the 1970s-1990s from all over the world as references for these fictional groups.*

*and x2, all these groups will be written as complex. this is not supposed to be something that tries to say people from these countries are all criminals or evil or anything— far from that. this fic, like the source material it was inspired by (deadly class), will have a lot of nuance and social commentaries.*

*although there is one group that is evil and i hate them but which group that is will be very obvious lol*

THE PREPS

The Preps are a very broad group to be affiliated with, as it encompasses many countries— although most prominently the united states.

instead of being a set criminal syndicate, The Preps are legacy students (meaning their parents went to the school) of government officials, military leaders, and intelligence agencies.

all of them come from wealth, and many of them stick together tightly despite not being an actual organization. they have no leaders set at the school of godric’s atelier of the deadly arts.

members: james potter, peter pettigrew, dirk cresswell, kingsley shacklebolt, dolores umbridge, rita skeeter, and gilderoy lockhart

DEAMHAIN AN TUAISCIRT (AKA NORTHERN DEMONS)

irish organized crime unit based in dublin, ireland. it’s run by the mckinnon family, and recently (when the fic takes place) because the most prominent crime organization in ireland after their rival gang fell apart.

they are a primarily leftist and anti-imperialist group, and at the school they are the smallest affiliation, but they make up for it in strength. their leader at godric’s is marlene.

members: marlene mckinnon, fabian prewett, gideon prewett, tarquin mctavish, and sturgis podmore.

SYNDICAT DU SERPENT (AKA SERPENT SYNDICATE)

the largest organized crime unit in france, with reach in countries like england, italy, and the united states. they are run by the black family.

members are known to be elusive and deadly, preferring to keep to themselves whenever possible. most of the time they don’t take well to strangers. their leader at godric’s is regulus.

members: regulus black, evan rosier, mulciber, avery, wilkes, amycus carrow, and alecto carrow.

LAS BRUJAS

a women-only movement, and organized crime unit, based in juárez, mexico. they are run by selene meadowes, and their aim is to not only protect the women and girls of their communities, but teach them to protect themselves too.

they operate mainly through vigilante justice, but are known to take out some hits here and there and influence politics. their leader at godric’s is dorcas.

members: dorcas meadowes, pandora (i’m still deciding on a last name for her! suggestions are welcome!), emma vanity, sybil trelawney.)

TOKORO NORIKUMI (AKA TOKORO CREW)

the largest crime syndicate in japan, based in tokyo. they primarily serve the tokoro family and their wishes. they control many businesses and subsidiary crime groups , and also do activities such as drug trafficking, real estate, assassinations, and extortion.

they are the most prominent affiliation at godric’s, both through size and skill. their leader at godric’s is emmeline vance (also called eme tokoro, in this fic. she’s go many names ok.) the other affiliations know better than to mess with them.

members: emmeline vance, kazuhiro shiratori, keiko takahashi, and minaka hirakata.

ZABINI MAFIA

italian mafia that is based in rome, but has reach in nearly all the major cities of italy. they have a death grip on politics and the police force. they are run by the zabini family.

the zabini mafia are more outgoing than most of the other affiliations, but they’re ultimately loyal to themselves. it’s good to be on their good side, and very bad to be on their bad side.

members: ornella zabini, barty crouch jr, florence, ludo bagman, amelia bones, and edgar bones.

KOLDOVSTVORETZ MAFIYA (AKA THE KOLDS)

essentially the russian mafia. they are one of the minor groups in the fic in terms of relevance. no main characters are apart of this affiliation.

members: igor karkaroff, antonin dolohov, gruffyd wellnelly, and baglan wellnelly.

FLAG MOB (AKA THE NATIONAL HAND & DIXIE RULE)

this is a unique affiliation, as it combines two separate organizations from different countries: the dixie rule of the american south, and the national hand of england.

they are the most undoubtedly cut and dry bad guys in this story, as they are inspired by racist groups like the national front and the dixie mob.

i hate them as the writer. you are meant to hate them too as a reader. they do serve a purpose and are not just here to be Edgy or something weird like that.

dixie rule members: jugson and gibbon.

national hand members: walden macnair, thorfinn rowle, and corban yaxley.

THE SQUIBS

the squibs are students with no affiliations at all. they are the outcasts of the school, essentially. a lot of them don’t come from organized crime backgrounds at all and have no formal training, but a few of them are those that were disowned from their affiliations! no leaders for obvious reasons.

members: lily evans, remus lupin, mary macdonald, xenophilius lovegood, and severus snape.

#fic: academic weapons

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roseslaces · 8 months

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19. Of Lucretia, who put an end to her life because of the outrage done her.

This, then, is our position, and it seems sufficiently lucid. We maintain that when a woman is violated while her soul admits no consent to the iniquity, but remains inviolably chaste, the sin is not hers, but his who violates her. But do they against whom we have to defend not only the souls, but the sacred bodies too of these outraged Christian captives,—do they, perhaps, dare to dispute our position? But all know how loudly they extol the purity of Lucretia, that noble matron of ancient Rome. When King Tarquin's son had violated her body, she made known the wickedness of this young profligate to her husband Collatinus, and to Brutus her kinsman, men of high rank and full of courage, and bound them by an oath to avenge it. Then, heart-sick, and unable to bear the shame, she put an end to her life. What shall we call her? An adulteress, or chaste? There is no question which she was. Not more happily than truly did a declaimer say of this sad occurrence: "Here was a marvel: there were two, and only one committed adultery." Most forcibly and truly spoken. For this declaimer, seeing in the union of the two bodies the foul lust of the one, and the chaste will of the other, and giving heed not to the contact of the bodily members, but to the wide diversity of their souls, says: "There were two, but the adultery was committed only by one."

But how is it, that she who was no partner to the crime bears the heavier punishment of the two? For the adulterer was only banished along with his father; she suffered the extreme penalty. If that was not impurity by which she was unwillingly ravished, then this is not justice by which she, being chaste, is punished. To you I appeal, ye laws and judges of Rome. Even after the perpetration of great enormities, you do not suffer the criminal to be slain untried. If, then, one were to bring to your bar this case, and were to prove to you that a woman not only untried, but chaste and innocent, had been killed, would you not visit the murderer with punishment proportionably severe? This crime was committed by Lucretia; that Lucretia so celebrated and lauded slew the innocent, chaste, outraged Lucretia. Pronounce sentence. But if you cannot, because there does not compear any one whom you can punish, why do you extol with such unmeasured laudation her who slew an innocent and chaste woman? Assuredly you will find it impossible to defend her before the judges of the realms below, if they be such as your poets are fond of representing them; for she is among those

"Who guiltless sent themselves to doom,And all for loathing of the day,In madness threw their lives away."

And if she with the others wishes to return,

"Fate bars the way: around their keepThe slow unlovely waters creep,And bind with ninefold chain."

Or perhaps she is not there, because she slew herself conscious of guilt, not of innocence? She herself alone knows her reason; but what if she was betrayed by the pleasure of the act, and gave some consent to Sextus, though so violently abusing her, and then was so affected with remorse, that she thought death alone could expiate her sin? Even though this were the case, she ought still to have held her hand from suicide, if she could with her false gods have accomplished a fruitful repentance. However, if such were the state of the case, and if it were false that there were two, but one only committed adultery; if the truth were that both were involved in it, one by open assault, the other by secret consent, then she did not kill an innocent woman; and therefore her erudite defenders may maintain that she is not among that class of the dwellers below "who guiltless sent themselves to doom." But this case of Lucretia is in such a dilemma, that if you extenuate the homicide, you confirm the adultery: if you acquit her of adultery, you make the charge of homicide heavier; and there is no way out of the dilemma, when one asks, If she was adulterous, why praise her? if chaste, why slay her?

Nevertheless, for our purpose of refuting those who are unable to comprehend what true sanctity is, and who therefore insult over our outraged Christian women, it is enough that in the instance of this noble Roman matron it was said in her praise, "There were two, but the adultery was the crime of only one." For Lucretia was confidently believed to be superior to the contamination of any consenting thought to the adultery. And accordingly, since she killed herself for being subjected to an outrage in which she had no guilty part, it is obvious that this act of hers was prompted not by the love of purity, but by the overwhelming burden of her shame. She was ashamed that so foul a crime had been perpetrated upon her, though without her abetting; and this matron, with the Roman love of glory in her veins, was seized with a proud dread that, if she continued to live, it would be supposed she willingly did not resent the wrong that had been done her. She could not exhibit to men her conscience, but she judged that her self-inflicted punishment would testify her state of mind; and she burned with shame at the thought that her patient endurance of the foul affront that another had done her, should be construed into complicity with him. Not such was the decision of the Christian women who suffered as she did, and yet survive. They declined to avenge upon themselves the guilt of others, and so add crimes of their own to those crimes in which they had no share. For this they would have done had their shame driven them to homicide, as the lust of their enemies had driven them to adultery. Within their own souls, in the witness of their own conscience, they enjoy the glory of chastity. In the sight of God, too, they are esteemed pure, and this contents them; they ask no more: it suffices them to have opportunity of doing good, and they decline to evade the distress of human suspicion, lest they thereby deviate from the divine law.

#St Augustine #The City of God #Christianity #paganism #Rome

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