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illyrian-dreamer · 6 months

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Our girl – Part 6

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, character death

<<< Part 5

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile.

You swallowed as you entered the decadent marble room, the binder under your arm almost bursting with hundreds of papers of research you collated.

Several powerful sets of eyes fell on you, and you forced your own forward, fighting the instinct to cast them low in respect. You were doing this for Prythian, for all fae – they should feel honoured for the opportunity, not you.

With smiles from Tarquin and Tamlin, you took the seat Thesan withdrew for you – the tall, regal shape foreign as it pressed to your back.

Rhysand and Feyre sat opposite, their eyes warm beneath their gaze. But you were too preoccupied to meet it.

“And since when are we in the business of inviting commoners to these meetings? I won't share my table with court-crossing whores.”

You let out a tired breath, your patience for the male ego completely diminished over the past years.

“I suppose you’ve excused that every time one of your sons has sat for these meetings, Beron?”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them.

Beron’s eyes widened, his face flushing red, and a few snorts and stifled laughs could be heard across the table.

Fuck – you could kiss Autumn’s allegiance goodbye. You would have to be a lot less impulsive if you were to make it out of this meeting alive.

"I will not–" Beron began, his hands curling into fists.

“Oh calm yourself Beron, you had no right to insult her in the first place.” Tarquin was grinning at you – ever the loyal friend. You gave him a tight smile to say thanks.

“And if you’re wondering who invited her here, you can steer your anger towards me,” Tamlin spoke smoothly, intertwining his fingers as he placed his solid arms on the table, meeting Beron’s glare with confidence.

“I for one, would like to hear what Y/N has to say,” Feyre added, with a confident nod to you.

It seemed you had an alliance at play all along.

With clear of your throat, you opened your binder, rolling out a detailed map of Prythian and with it months of research on each of the courts. You took a breath, and began the proposal you and your team had spent weeks perfecting.

“You may have heard of aid work spreading across Spring in light of the aftermath of the war. My team and I have worked tirelessly to support vulnerable communities across the court, providing food, medicine and shelter for those devastated by Hybern.”

“Spring Court only suffered devastation because of its alliance with Hybern in the first place,” Kallias interrupted, followed by a murmur of agreements.

Tamlin straightened. “I acknowledge my court was left at Hybern's mercy due to my decisions. But Y/N has worked despite of that – and it’s what makes her work so important.”

“In what way?” Thesan asked.

“A courtless ambition,” you affirmed. “A team of volunteers – made from all courts, for all courts. Resources provided from across Prythian, shared equally to help those in need despite what throne they serve.”

There was a moment of silence, before Beron sounded a loud snort.

“Don't trust her for one second,” he scoffed, pointing a finger at you. “She’s been hauled up in Spring Court for over a year now. No doubt this is a ruse to have us open our borders. She’ll be free to rob our people and lands, all the while fucking her handsome High Lord.”

“Watch how you speak of her,” Rhysand growled, night crawling across the table, the purple in his eyes all but gone.

You had to interject before this meeting finished as quickly as it started. “I assure you, this mission has no binding to Spring Court. It is to exist without borders so we may help anyone in need, and travel with ease to provide urgent care.”

Beron ignored Rhysand and instead cold eyes to you, his lips curling with distaste. “And you believe we need your help?” he spat. “The fae of Spring are weak. My subjects are well cared for, and my court is thriving.”

Gods, you could see where Eris got it from.

“According to my research, inflation in your court is a second close to Spring, and displacement is rising with little access to healers after you centralised them during the war.”

Beron’s face flushed an even deeper red than before, his eyes turning to a murderous cold and your stomach twisted with both fear and delight.

“There is not one court here that is in a position to refuse this kind of offer,” Tarquin said with sweeping calm, silencing Beron before he could bubble over. “We would do well to not let our pride stop an ambition of this size.”

“Y/N,” he added, turning to you. “I admire the work you have done in Spring, Tamlin has testified and frankly sung much high praise. If you might show me your plans of what role Summer Court could play in your mission, I would be happy to come to an agreement to provide volunteers and resources.”

You swallowed, your heart swelling. You had no doubt Tarquin would offer his allegiance, but it was a milestone all the same. “Thank you, Tarquin.”

“My mate and I would like to offer the allegiance of the Night Court. We would be honoured for your help,” Feyre’s face strong and stern, but you knew them well enough to feel the waves of pride from both her and Rhys.

“Consider Day Court an ally too,” Hellion beamed, trusting of Feyre’s alliance to now make his own. “We have some of the oldest practicing healers – if you can help spread their knowledge across our lands, it will help us to grow stronger as a continent, and perhaps more resistant should we face another invasion in future.”

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head gratefully to the High Lords and Lady around you.

“You’re all fools,” Beron spat, pushing up from his chair. “And I won't stand to watch you place the fate of our lands in the hands of a traitor, let alone a woman.”

A series of snarls sounded as claws of all kinds shot out. Tamlin’s hands shook as he gripped the tables edge, Tarquin’s scraped at his chair, and Rhys’s tapped with threatening impatience.

“Your mind betrays you, Beron,” Feyre spoke coldly, a cruel smile at play on her lips. “Because despite countless centuries in this world, you and your seven sons couldn't hope to accomplish as much as this female has in just a few years. You’re embarrassed. You feel she emasculates you.”

You didn't have a moment to gawk before Beron launched at you, his fist in your hair as he ripped you backwards in your chair. Droplets of his disgusting spit landing their mark as he snarled down at you. “You mark my words you sly bitch. You may have everyone wrapped around you finger, but step one foot in my court and I’ll–”

Guards had pulled Beron from you before he could finish his sentence. They hardly had to escort him as he shook their grip, storming from the room and slamming the doors behind him.

With red cheeks and a slight shake of your hands, you took Tarquins offer to help you stand.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

You offered a single nod, too stunned to know truly. Was this how the High Lords settled business?

You straightened your skirts and took your seat once again.

“I do hate it when he gets like that,” Tarquin said more loudly, feigning a bored sigh and hiding a comforting hand on your thigh beneath the table.

“For your knowledge Y/N, there are rules that we must not to lay hands on another High Lord or Lady, not without consequence. I suppose that’s why he launched at you,” Thesan explained, willing a glass of water in front of you and giving you a sorry smile.

You took a shaky sip, barely having a moment to register the silent exchange between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhys. Whatever their stern expressions meant, you knew Beron was in deep, deep shit.

The rest of the meeting went smoothly – you convinced Thesan and Kallias to consider your proposal, and agreed to meet with them in future after they took some time to study your plans in more detail. In total you had four courts agree, two remained uncertain, and one definite no. It was overwhelming result, and you were riddled with both excitement and anxiousness at the thought of expanding your mission to not just one, but three new courts.

As the meeting adjourned, you found yourself thinking of Eris, and couldn't help but feel empathetic. You may have an unwelcome bond binding you to the two males who broke your heart, but at least your future wasn't dictated by someone as hideous as Beron. Eris would never be that free.

You spent your evening writing to the other volunteers and your uncle, and preparing plans and strategies to begin work in Summer. It would be beneficial to start there, to have more experienced healers on board.

There was a soft rap at your door, and Feyre’s blossom-like scent floated through the gaps.

Quill now mid-air, your heart fastened with momentary worry. But you took a breath - it was just a conversation, you could grant her that. After all, there were many more meetings with her and Rhys to come if you hoped to expand to the Nigh Court successfully. You'd also likely need to return to the Night Court yourself…

Stopping your spiral of thoughts, you cleared your throat. “Come in,” you called, placing your quill down and turning in your seat.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No no. Please, come in,” you gestured.

She strode with confidence, dark drapes of her dress flowing behind as they sparkled like the Velarian sky you hadn't realised you longed for. “I won't stay long, I just wanted to tell you that you were incredible today.” Those grey eyes pinned you with sincerity, before fluttering with a sideways glance. “And perhaps I’m also here to see how you’re fairing after the meeting. I’m sorry, I didn't think Beron…"

You huffed humorously, your head cocking down as you let out sound of exasperation. “Gods, he truly is as awful as they say.”

“Yes,” Feyre said with a stifled grin, her head shaking. “He really is.”

“Thank you, for defending me. Your response to him… it was–"

“Too much, probably.”

“Insidiously epic.” You were grinning.

Feyre laughed now, swinging one leg over the other before fingering a nearby trinket. “You know I can't resist the opportunity to toy with a male like that.”

You matched her smile, warmed by the mischievous look. The exchange was genuine and comfortable, fun even – exactly how your friendship had been for so many years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Feyre.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, a small but sad smile finding her lips. “Of course.”

You looked at your hands then, fidgeting with them in your lap. You had to ask, you just had to.

“How are they?”

Feyre didn't falter. “Well enough. Cassian has been training a new generation of Illyrians to regrow our army, and Azriel has been busy with his work in Hybern.”

Your eyes were distant as you thought about them, separated by work. Azriel was still undertaking missions in Hybern? Was there truly more secrets to unravel there? Gods, the thought alone made you wince in pain, that whole damned continent a waking reminder of Meryl and everything you had lost. You knew Azriel would be tortured by the same cycle of thoughts on those lands.

“They work hard,” you offered with pulled brows, not really knowing what else to say.

“Just like someone else I know.” Feyre’s pained smile soft yet full of suggestion. She might as well have said it – they’re not the only ones burying their pain in work. You supposed she was right, you had set a stellar example at that.

“But they’re doing better, really,” she added, resuming natural movement and surrendering you from her gaze. “They’re healthier, and they look after one another.”

Your lips pulled into a small smile. “I’m glad.” And you meant it.

Feyre had matured over the past year – you could see it in her poise, hear it in her voice. It was a nice thing to see, to watch a fellow immortal grow in such ways.

“I will leave you to your planning.” She stood then, her incredible dress sweeping the floor once more.

Pausing by the doorway, Feyre turned to you. “Rhys and I are so honoured to have your work come to our court, even with the challenges to be faced with the Council. You should be proud, Y/N. We certainly are.”

You nodded, your lips pulling in a smile that twitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. I’ll send a letter to meet soon, and we can discuss plans then.”

“We look forward to it.” Feyre’s smile was warm and true.

“As do I.” And so was your own.

————

“Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait a few more days? We could journey back together.”

You rolled your eyes, securing your bag to Podie as Tamlin fussed behind you, tightening the knots.

“I must get back and help the team start the expansion. I don't have a few days to spare.”

“I know, I just… worry for you.”

You snorted then, hauling yourself to your horse. “I journeyed here myself, you know.”

Tamlin sighed, reaching to stroke Podie’s mane. “I know. I just, I’m not sure, I have a feeling–“

“You’re fussing.”

“No, I have a feeling.”

“A feeling of fussing?”

Tamlin pinched his nose then. “I don't know why I try,” he muttered.

You grinned. “I’ll see you in two weeks time, Tam.” With a gentle nudge to Podie’s sides, you started the long journey home.

Never mind that Tamlin had found you shortly after Feyre left your room last night. Never mind that he searched you over for any signs of injury that Beron might have left, or that he distracted you jokes and conversation and stiff drink on your balcony that lead to welcomed sleep. You would certainly not think about the way his deep hushed voice soothed you until your eyes closed, or that he knew exactly how to stroke your hair as he comforted you after the things Beron had said, long after you had stopped responding.

When you had woken he was gone, so this time apart would serve you well to clear your head and re-establish those murky lines of love and friendship, desire and lust.

“Take safe routes,” he called out, waving you off as the castle of Dawn Court disappeared behind the trees.

You forced yourself not to look back.

————

The journey from Dawn to Spring would take six days of travel. With no ability to winnow or fly, it was a pace you were not accustomed to.

But you would bare it with higher spirits than ever, because you got what you came for, what you’d wanted your entire life. You were making the world a better place, and only just getting started.

Forgoing the coastal scenery you had indulged in on your journey up, you chose a route close to the inner border with Autumn, avoiding the congestion of the capital and heading through the most direct route. By your third morning you had already reached Summer, forgoing rest and carving your journey time to start your eager plans once home.

As the sun began to set that evening, Podie began fussing with fatigue.

“I know boy, I know,” you soothed, patting at his neck. “We’re almost there.”

And sure enough, the bustle of the town you had marked on your map sounded in the distance, smoke trails rising above the tree tops as signs of life revealed themselves. You had marked this town for its inn, where both you and Podie could rest properly for the night.

But rest would have to wait, as your ears pricked at a young voice. Turning, you saw wild auburn hair on a thin and ashy body, large eyes pleading to whoever walked past.

“Please, ma’am, sir, someone help!”

But the other fae continued to look past her, offering mumbled apologies and averting their gaze. Disheartened, you tutted under your breath. The child was from Autumn, that much was clear, and you knew the other fae ignored her for it. This was exactly the kind of mentality you were trying to amend.

Having just secured Podie’s reigns at the stables next to the inn, you wiped your hands on your pants, approaching the girl. “What’s wrong youngling?”

The little girl all but crumpled. “Please, my mother, she-she can’t, I don’t-"

Crouching down, you soothed the young girl with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Is she unwell?”

Dirty hands rubbed the tears spilling from her eyes, and a nod was all she could offer.

Your eyes flicked to your satchel still strung on Podie. There were vessels of Geranium in there, samples you had shown to the High Lords.

“Can she walk?”

The little girl trembled, locks bouncing as she shook her head. Gods, those locks, so similar to Meryl's…

A fresh batch of tears poured from her eyes then, as she pointed behind her. “There are no healers in our town. I didn't know where to go!”

“It’ll be alright, I have some medicine in my bag. Can you take me to her?”

She girl’s lip quivered. “But it’s over the border,” she whispered.

You gave her a sorry smile. “I thought as much. Never mind, let me grab my bag, and you lead the way.”

Fuck Beron – fuck his senseless borders and militant court. Someone was in need of healing, so you would help them, plain and simple.

The girl was still thanking you by the time you returned with your satchel. You hoped you had enough Geranium to heal her mother to to a capacity until a trained healer could see to her.

The young thing all but sprinted, and you maintained a steady jog to the Autumn border. Green blended with red here, the breeze already cooler as dried leaves danced with live ones.

“My town is down this trail,” she pointed to a winding path. “It’s not far.”

You nodded, taking your first step in Autumn without a second thought. And when you reached the winding path, where the trees now hid the backs of Summer Court and the life that called there, the girl stopped in her path, turning with an eery slowness.

You jumped back at the white film that now filled her eyes, her mouth downturned and sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head lolling sideways.

You hadn’t a moment to process the horror of it before hands pinned your arms and smothered your mouth.

Fumes swarmed your senses, burning your nose and throat before you were overcome with poisonous haze, your cry swallowed in cloth as the world turned black.

————

Rhysand handed the last of his bags to the door man, giving his guest room at Dawn one final sweep.

Feyre had left a few days earlier to be with Nyx, but many of the High Lords had stayed to use the mutual meeting grounds and have much needed discussions after the war. But his business was done and he would finally return home, his heart aching for Velaris.

Even his brothers would be there this time, having returned from their own missions. He was eager to unwind and be surrounded by the laughter and company of his family together again. Well, almost all of them.

Tamlin’s scent pricked his nose, and Rhys resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the complicated and bloody history they shared, forcing himself to be civil with Tamlin would always draining, and right now he just wanted to get home.

Night magic flung the doors open, revealing the distraught High Lord, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a letter.

“Whatever can I do you for, Tamlin?” Rhys mused, before finally turning to face him. With one look at his expression, he flicked his eyes to the letter in Tamlin's hand, his stomach sinking immediately.

“What’s happened?” Rhys asked quickly.

“Y/N – she was due back in Spring three days ago. Her uncle has written to say she hasn't come home.”

Rhys could feel the violet draining from his eyes. “Perhaps she took a few more days to herself?”

“She wouldn't do that.” Tamlin said firmly.

Rhys nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line as worry brewed even further. He was right.

“There’s more.”

Rhys quirked his brow.

“Podie was found stranded at an inn in Summer, east of the capital.”

“Podie? Who-"

“Her horse Rhysand! They found her damned horse, left there for days!”

Rhys swallowed, his mind narrowing to a steely focus – the way it did before battle.

“You said east?”

Tamlin swallowed thickly, a knowing worry pulling at his features as he nodded. “Just shy of the border.”

Black flooded the little violet left in Rhys’s eyes. “Fuck.”

Tamlin stalked towards Rhys, forcing the letter into his hand. “Call for her mates, immediately.”

But Rhys already was, his mind screaming out to his brothers, to Feyre, to anyone who could find her first.

“Is it done?” Tamlin asked, green eyes desperately scanning the lucid male in front of him.

Rhys was quiet for a moment, before sucking in a sharp sudden breath. He faltered then, grasping the bed post with a wince as his magic recoiled within.

Because somewhere in Velaris, across the mountains and seas and stretch of land the separated y/n from her mates, a panic so deep and rage so violent consumed any magic in reach, even the most powerful High Lords.

Rhys wasn't there to witness Cassian and Azriel’s siphons shattering, to see the way red and blue power - now freed from their bounds - instead consumed them, filling their veins and pulsing against muscle.

Rhys nodded once at Tamlin, confirming what they both knew.

There would be a war to retrieve Y/N alive. And Beron was as good as dead.

————

Beron took a leather parcel from the last of his guards, before ushering him from your cell.

You had been here for days – or so you thought. Time was a difficult thing to grasp in your haze, and there was no light here. It was quite too, the only sound of dripping dampness, and the occasional screams and pleas from a women. That voice was so far away, you weren’t certain it was real, or that it wasn't your own.

Beron had visited you the day you were taken, his dark eyes glowing with hideous intent at the sight of you bound in his dungeon. He hadn’t said much, only promising with sickening glee that he’d be back soon.

You half expected him to beat you, to hurt and punish you for humiliating him at the High lords meeting. Gods, you even anticipated death. But the High Lord kept you hydrated and healthy enough, all be it drugged and weak. Which meant a different fate awaited you, perhaps one worse than you could imagine.

You cursed at the sight of the weapon he unfurled from the leather pouch. It was a rapier of kinds – too large to be a knife, too small to be an ordinary sword. But it was the ungodly glow of the thing - the churning ribbons of deadly silver turning in on itself - that terrified you most.

“What is that?” you panted, your eyes wide as Beron’s grin grew.

“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to find such a tool, Y/N.” He angled it this way and that, eyes glowing with admiration as silver danced in them. “The terrible things I had to do to have this made, to even hold it in my bare hands.”

It was pointless to press further into the metal slab you were bound to, cuffs digging at your ankles and wrists as you reopened the same wounds you had fought against for days.

Beron was drawing closer, the rest of the room darkening as the rapier glowed so bright, commanding your attention. The air grew colder, as if those lethal ribbons were consuming the warmth for itself.

“I think we’re alike, you and I.” Beron eyed you with a sickly smile before he began to pace, moving his sword with him.

Your chest heaved with panic, your eyes trailing him as you begged for anyone to find you. Your mates, that tether, perhaps they would hear you? But the bond had weakened since left unacknowledged, and as you fished for it within you could feel how it had thinned.

“I don't like having my things taken from me, Y/N. And I’m certain you don't either. That’s why you were alone, wasn’t it? Without your mates, hm? They took something of yours, and you didn't like it one bit.”

Your eyes snapped to Beron the moment he mentioned them. Fuck. Fuck. Eris, that kniving worm, had told him exactly what he needed to know.

“I’ve had something of mine taken from me over and over again for almost a century. The one thing that was promised to me – sworn to me by oath, bound to me by a ring.”

What nonsense was he spitting? Unless… oh gods.

“You see there’s a particular High Lord who seems to think he can help himself to what is mine. And apparently, my whore of a wife agrees.”

The Lady of Autumn. What Feyre had shared with you about Lucien, about his mother and Helion – it was all true. And Beron knew.

You gulped, your stomach churning as you forced your voice past the strain in your throat. “What in gods name does that have to do with me, you twisted senseless fuck.”

Fear seeped from you, and you knew he could scent it.

Beron chuckled, shaking his head before crazed eyes found yours. “Do you know what my wife said to me when I confronted her, Y/N? Do you know what she claimed, what she threw in my face, after centuries of marriage, of sharing my home and my court and six fucking sons?”

You were wise enough not to answer.

Beron shifted, easing back into lethal calm. “She tells me of a bond. Bound by the cauldron, she claims. She says that she’s sorry, to please not hurt her, to please not hurt him. And then she begs me to let her go.”

Bile rose to your throat. “What have you done to her?” you gritted, fighting against your cuffs once more. “Have you- did you-”

“Kill her?” Beron finished, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Of course not. I am no monster.” He paused then, halting his pace. “I love her.”

It was almost convincing.

“But so began my journey, sweet Y/N, to help my dear wife from her delusions. I keep her here, a few cells over. She’s very eager to receive her treatment and rejoin the throne again as my loyal wife.”

You had to blink through your nausea. The begging, those screams – they were real. It was her.

“By no means was it an easy task to find a tool like this – something so magnificent, crafted straight from death itself. But I do it for her.”

Your stomach dropped. He had harnessed death itself? This was beyond insidious - Beron had been driven insane by his jealousy.

Beron’s eyes flicked from the weapon to you, noting the way you stiffened.

“Ah yes, death. Not an easy thing to befriend, certainly not an easy thing to yield. It took a life to harness it’s power, life from my very own family.”

Beron’s words were becoming harder to hear as your heart pounded in your ears. And then it clicked, and you could have sworn that time stood still as his words played in your head. He had mentioned six sons, not seven.

You had not known a fear like the one you felt now, a sickening tremble overtaking as you knew what he would say next.

“Please,” you begged, twisting in your restraints. “Please! Don't say it!”

“Although I suppose Lucien wasn't truly my family, not really.”

A scream ripped from you, your eyes clenched shut as your mind reeled at the horror. Lucien – Tamlin’s friend, Feyre’s friend, your friend too. Killed as a sacrifice for this insidious narcissist he had thought was his father.

“Oh none of that, Y/N. You act as if I enjoyed it. Lucien was my son in many ways. But a power this great,” he said, casting the sword before his eyes. “Well, it demands an equally great sacrifice.”

Anguished sobs escaped you, tear tracks gleaming from the glow of death before you.

“How could you?” you screamed, writhing against your chains. “He trusted you!”

Beron’s eyes darkened. “It’s as I said,” he growled. “I will not have my things taken from me. For decades I was humiliated and lied to while she slinked from MY COURT to have an affair with another High Lord. Years spent playing me a fool, lying to my face and CLAIMING a SON as my OWN!”

You trembled at the hate in Beron’s voice, walls rumbling as he beheld other-worldly power from the weapon in his hand. You knew his words had hit their mark, and faint wails could be heard outside your cell. The Lady of Autumn could hear it all – Beron was punishing her, forcing her to listen.

He was quiet then, watching you fail to stifle your own sobs.

He moved closer, raising a hand to stroke at your hair. “Shh, shh. Now now, dear Y/N. I may hate you, but I’m a man of reason. I don't believe in spilt blood.”

You jerked under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut and begging to the Mother to not let you die at the hands of this deranged murderer.

“I haven't bought you here to kill you. You’re valuable to me, you see.”

You forced your eyes open.

“I merely want to break your bond.”

There was a ringing in your ears as a panic burst through your veins so quickly you felt you would simply combust.

“And I suppose I don't care should you survive this or not.” Beron said with a shrug, before pointing that ungodly sword at your heart, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped from your chest.

--------

Part 7>>>

A/N: Hi. Hiiiii. Are you... are you ok? Hoping Lucien's death didn't hurt too bad. ❤️ Thank you always for your patience on this chapter, I so hope you liked it (or at least made you feel the feels). I cannot wait to explore feral Cass and Az, and probably Rhys and Feyre and Tamlin too lol Drop a comment or an ask any time, I looooooove hearing your thoughts on the fic, it makes my day each and every time <3 Thank you, and I love you. MWA! ❤️

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scorpioriesling · 14 days

Text

Casual (pt. 1)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Azriel x reader, light Cassian x reader

Warnings: drinking, smut allusions, light foul language

Summary: Usually not one to go out, you decide to try it out one night, knowing the Inner Circle comes to the bar you work at. You’re hoping to maybe see them during the hours you work… what happens if you see them when you’re off the clock?

SR’s Note: This one will most certainly have multiple parts as I tend to get carried away I’m SORRY <3 Heavily inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan… I listened while thinking this one up and writing it, if you wanted to listen while reading along!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your weekly routine was generally the same; you worked behind the bar at Rita’s full-time, and spent most of your afternoons in the library— preferably, the wing that held the maps. Over the last few years, you’d taken an interest in Prythian’s history, and chose to spend extra time studying the geographical documents that had you’d become to intrigued by. Maybe, if you’d be able to learn enough and teach yourself sufficiently, you could get yourself a better job than mixing drinks from 9-5 each day at Rita’s.

It wasn’t all bad; for one, you really liked your coworkers. Your manager was cool, and the security of the bar left you feeling safe, even on the bad nights and weekends when you were asked to work a double or come in for extra hours. It wasn’t necessarily in the “bad part” of Velaris, if you could consider the lovely hidden city to have any “bad parts”— it was just an area that potbelly’s and drunkards liked to hang out until the wee hours of the morning.

Aside from the people you worked with, the customers were generally a good group too. A mixture of all kinds from the Night Court would come in, but what was most exciting was when the Inner Circle would visit — which happened more often than not, you had noticed. They started coming around more on Thursdays and Fridays, so you would casually hang around and chat with coworkers in hopes of possibly seeing the rulers of the court you called home a time or two.

Well, at least it started with that.

Then, you started picking up a couple extra hours on Thursdays. Maybe one or two, here and there. Just to cover rent and have extra spending money.

“How else am I paying for rounds later?” You teased, your closest coworker, Clayre, noticing the uptake in hours you’d started working. She’d only shrugged and shook her head at you.

“Just wondering. It’s unlike you; I figured you’d rather spend your weekends poring over those dusty pages in the library.”

A few extra hours wouldn’t matter, you still had the whole weekend off to yourself to spend studying those maps and working on bettering your knowledge. What would matter was when you changed not only the extra hours, but the lifestyle; not a party girl at heart, you finally started taking your coworkers up on their offers to hang out after hours, thus spending more time at your job and less in the library. This was a surprise to the people you shared eight hours of your every day with, but they were excited to finally get to hang out with you. Clayre seemed to think maybe something else was at play though.

“I’m just surprised you’re sacrificing any time you could have to be looking at those same old maps is all I’m saying,” she says, wiping down the bar one afternoon during a shift she shared with you. It was around 4:30 pm on a Friday, and you had plans to meet up with everyone here later tonight. She wasn’t wrong, by now she knew you well enough and knew you wanted a better life for yourself in your career; but she what she hadn’t caught onto yet was the master plan at play in other aspects of your life, which would involve getting out there more and meeting people. Rita’s was the place to be, the place to meet anyone and everyone, and seeing as it was a summer Friday night, it was a perfect opportunity.

“You’ve only got 30 minutes left; do you want to head out early and start getting ready?” She asks you kindly. Your eyes dart to the ticking clock hanging above the front door, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. She tosses the rag she’d been using into the sink behind the counter, and you glance behind her and see a few mixers that are looking a little low. The evening shift will have your asses if they aren’t full when they get there.

You smile at her. “Nah, I’m okay. It’s only 30 minutes. I’ve got a few things to finish up anyways. Do you want to go early today? Maybe pick up some food and meet over at my place?” You ask. She beams, happy that the kind gesture to leave early was returned to her.

“Absolutely!” She pulled the quill from the ink pot behind the bar, noting the time on the timesheet next to her name for the day. “Would you like anything in particular?”

“Surprise me.”

✧･ﾟ: *

“Y/N… that one is the one and you know it!” Clayre squeals and kicks her feet like a schoolgirl on your bed, staring at you from across your room. You stand in front of your closet, a short beige and brown dress hugging your curvy figure in all the places you’d liked. You’ll admit it; you bought this one on purpose, and dipped into your savings a little bit knowing this was the style of clothing that went along with the ambience that Rita’s offered during the summer months. Not quite a sundress, but not a gown either; not leather, but not too tight fitting that you couldn’t move. It was just… perfect. The colors looked gorgeous on you too and it didn’t scream for attention; and you had seen some questionable fashion choices in the past as a bartender. You’d taken a mental note to stay away from those.

“Well… I think you’re right.” You say, turning from side to side in front of your floor length mirror, admiring how the dress clings to the curve of your ass and shows off the body you’re blessed with. Clayre hops off the bed, skipping over to you and fluffing out your hair with her fingers. She drapes a few of your loose curls in front of your shoulders, the tendrils reaching just past the curve of your breast and framing the curve of your face the way you like. She grins.

“You’re getting laid tonight, that’s for sure,” she winks at you through the mirror. You laugh, your shoulders knocking against her as she begins giggling along with you. She steps over to your vanity and pops another sugared strawberry in her mouth, and then tosses the container in the trash.

“I wouldn’t look like this if it wasn’t for your help,” you start, glancing once more in the mirror. You usually opt for light makeup, but Clayre is so good at the dramatic stuff and she really helped you transform tonight. She swatted a hand in your direction, beginning to pick up loose clothing and makeup items from the floor.

“No, seriously. It takes me forever to curl my hair and I can’t do my makeup like this; you’re so good at it.” She smiles to herself and shoves her work uniform in her satchel, and you begin reorganizing your vanity. Peeking outside, you notice the sun setting.

“Hey, I can clean all this up later — we don’t have to do it now,” you say. Clayre props herself on the edge of your bed, pulling on a pair of pointed black heels. She narrows her brows at you.

“Y/N… you don’t want to bring a male back here later and the first thing he sees is your dirty clothes all over the floor, do you?”

✧･ﾟ: *

Rita’s was packed.

Like, line out the door, wrapped around the building, packed.

“Cauldron sacrifice me,” Clayre mutters as you approach the bar. You can hear the music coming from inside, neon lights flashing beyond the glass front door and illuminating the street in front of the entrance. Fae of all kind were in line ahead of you; from what you could see, some bore iridescent skin, some had wings, some with more elegant wear and some wearing plainclothes. That was the beauty of Rita’s; anyone was welcome.

Clayre stood on her tippy toes and peered around the line, trying to see around heads and bodies. You cast her a questioning look.

“I’m trying to see who’s on duty tonight for the front entrance,” she explained. “Maybe we can just walk to the front and walk in, you know, since we’re employees?” she says. You contemplate her words for a moment, and the line moves up by a few feet.

“I mean… ugh I don’t know. People will be mad if we cut right?” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m already hot and there’s like, 50 people ahead of us.” A group gets in line behind you, and you are unsure what to do. You don’t really get time to decide because Clayre is grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of line. You gasp at her.

“Clayre! We’re going to lose our spot-“ You say. As you pass person by person, you’re met with stares and given quizzical looks all the same. Clayre keeps marching ahead, drawing nearer to the entrance.

“Lionel!” She beams when we’re close enough to the security guard for him to register us butting in line instead of not actually being in it. He’s pulled from his 1000 yard stare at the sound of Clayre’s voice and he smiles bright when he sees her, a dramatic gasp coming out when he sees you. You roll your eyes at him and laugh.

“Y/N? Do my eyes beseech me?!” He raises the back of his hand to his head and pretends to faint, causing you and Clayre to chuckle. The group of fae females at the front of the line are staring burning holes into you, and you glance at one in particular, earning a scowl from her. Your cheeks heat a little bit, but you turn your attention back to your coworkers.

“I’ve finally pulled the moth from the depths of the dark library; she’s seen the LIGHT!” Clayre booms dramatically, and you swat her arm. It’s Lionel’s turn to let out a hearty laugh, and you can’t help but giggle. Once he’s taking big dramatic breaths, and calming down, you glance beyond the glass and notice your manager making his way toward the door. Hopefully he will allow someone in soon; you want the eyes still glaring at you to find different prey.

“Well, either way I’m glad you guys came out tonight. You ladies look great!” He says kindly. Clayre curtsys, and he shakes his head at her. Just then, the door swings open and your favorite manager Jeremiah opens the door. He had a clipboard and paper in one hand, not so much as looking up at Lionel as he holds up two fingers. Lionel stares at the two of you.

“I swear on the Cauldron, if you two get me fired-“

Clayre squeals and gives Lionel a quick side hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She says before rushing inside. You stand on the balls of your feet and press a kiss to his cheek before rushing in after her, throwing him one last tiny wave and disappearing inside.

If Clayre thought it was hot outside, the air inside is sweltering. It’s warm and humid, feeling like the air in the jungle after a tropical storm.

That is, if the air also had laser beams shining through it and tendrils of smoke giving it a less than pleasant scent.

Clayre has clearly come here after hours before, as she’s bee-lining for the bar like she’s on a mission. You pass table after table, ones you’re accustomed to wiping down and serving day after day. The dance floor was already growing with bodies, jiving and thrumming with the bass-boosted music blaring from the speakers. One of the booths you pass has a “reserved” sign; which stinks. That one is your favorite, it’s the largest and in the corner, providing a little bit of quiet from the rest of the room. You thought you might snag it, if it was open.

Approaching the bar, you lean over to ask Clayre what she wants when the bartender Aleks saunters over to you both. The sleeves of his button down are rolled up, and you had to admit he was one of the more attractive males you worked with. He offered you a broad smile.

“Y/N! Wow, you look great — hey Clayre, a pleasure as always,” she smiles back at him, and it feels a bit awkward because usually she has some quip and you’re the one not speaking first. You take this time as your opportunity to start the conversation.

“Thank you Aleks,” you begin. He pours the green margarita mix into a glass with a perfectly sugary rum, and Clayre just stares at him while he does it. He takes note of it and smirks, glancing to you. “Be right back.” He says, walking to the other end of the bar to hand the drink to female in waiting. He makes his way back to you, and you look to Clayre. She swallows hard.

“Sorry I can’t chat with you ladies much tonight,” he says. “Unfortunately, I’m the only one on the schedule anddddd…” he gestures to the crowded room behind you. Your eyes widen.

“Damn,” you say. “I didn’t realize. Night are a lot different than days…” He shrugs.

“I mean, once they let everyone in for the night, Jeremiah said he’d be over here to help, but I mean, it’s whatever.” Clayre chews on her lip.

“Can I get a Blueberry Buzz?” she says. Aleks flicks his gaze to her and chuckles. Her cheeks redden, and I honestly don’t know what to think, I’ve never seen her like this.

“Make that two! I’ll have one too.” I say. He smiles and shrugs, the crowd around the bar only growing by the minute.

“Two Blueberry Buzzes,” he says, adding ice to two glasses he holds in one hand. “Do you want anything else while you’re up here? It might be a minute before I can talk to you ladies again.” He’s lightly shouting now, the chatter around us growing louder. Clayre shakes her head, but I decide not to agree with her on this one. I don’t need a slow burn tonight. I need to get fucked up.

“Can we also get two Lemon Wave shots and two shots of Whiskey Tango?” I ask. Clayre side eyes me, and I shrug at her. Alex sets down the glasses filled with the purple drinks, sprinkling edible glitter on top. I watch it swirl into the cocktail, and he slides the glasses across the bar to us.

“Two Blueberry Buzzes — had to make them pretty, for the prettiest girls in here, of course.” Your hand flies to your heart in fake admiration, though you do find the gesture sweet.

“Awwww!” You croon, earning a laugh from Aleks. “You shouldn’t have!” He grabs four shot glasses, working quickly with the two alcohols youd requested.

“And here…” he finishes the shots. “Are two Lemon Wave shots and two Whiskey Tangos.” He carefully hands two to you and two to Clayre, and she smiles shyly at him. He winks at her, and looks at you one final time.

“I can start a tab for you guys?” You nod, and take your beverages from the bar. You’d definitely be back later for more, but for now you needed to find a table.

✧･ﾟ: *

“All I’m saying is that if you just sit your lil butt on top of the bar and,” you can’t help but giggle. “…and tell him to pour it straight into your mouth, he might just bend you over right there, okay! I mean that’s all I’m saying!” You laugh, sending Clayre into a fit of laughter. She covers her mouth with her hands in embarrassment.

“He would literally never do that.” She finishes with a laugh. You’d been hanging out for thirty or forty five minutes, but the effects of the alcohol were already beginning to pulse through your veins. The warm feeling it was giving you was nice; you wondered why you didn’t come do this more often with your friends. This was quite fun; you can see why Clayre liked it so much.

Unfortunately, all the tables had been taken by the time you’d left the bar, so you opted to take the shots first and leave the glasses by the bar, now nursing the last remnants of your cocktail near the outskirts of the dance floor. Clayre tips her head back, draining hers entirely and wiggles the glass in front of you, rattling the ice.

“Catch up, sweets.” You roll your eyes, having mostly glitter water left in your glass. You finish it in one swallow, and you hold out your hand for Clayre to take your glass. She scoffs.

“Why me?” She asks. You grin.

“Because.” You give her a knowing look. You don’t even need to explain before she groans and takes it from you, trudging over to the bar and elbowing her way through people to get to the front. You see her small green dress disappear for only a moment before she’s back, and you’re shaking your head with crossed arms as she approaches. She throws her arms up in the air as she walks towards you.

“Whaaat!” She drawls. “I can’t talk to him now anyways, he’s busy.” She excuses.

“Tsk tsk.” You say, grabbing her hand. You look toward the dance floor, a small patch of flooring clear in your line of sight. “Come on — I wanna go dance.”

It’s not long before you’re back at the bar. And again. And again. To be fair, one of those times, you made Clayre go, but it “didn’t count” because Jeremiah was over there and took her order instead.

The effects of all the drinks you’ve had are in full swing as you’re thriving on the dance floor, arms in the air and swinging your hips. You’ve never felt so confident, never done anything so fun. Your bones feel like they’re made of air, and you’re on cloud nine. You feel light, airy, sexy, and just… good.

You’re feel so good, and so smart for coming up with a brilliant idea when the song you and Clayre are dancing to ends and you shout to her over the people around you. “My mouth is real dry Clayre!” She nods and sticks her tongue out. You laugh at her.

“Nooo Clayre — my mouth.” She’s giggling too, and pulls you close by the wrist.

“IM GONNA NEED MAYBE A DRINK.” She shouts. You smile.

“I need water!” You say back. She nods, then frowns. Then she shakes her head.

“Yeah I want some water but maybe another drink too. I don’t know. Let’s just go together.” She grabs onto your wrist and pulls you toward the bar. You thank the mother that it’s a little less busy now, and notice the clock on the wall reads 11:48. Aleks notices you, and Clayre drops your arm.

“Actually I’m gonna go pee real quick…” she says. You roll your eyes at her, just as Aleks appears in front of you.

“Hey stranger! How’s it going?” He asks. You lean on the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. He grabs a glass, filling it with ice and dispensing clear water into it. You sigh as he slides it to you.

“Cauldron…” you practically moan and bring it to your lips, chugging half of it and setting it down. He’s chuckling at you, arms crossed over his torso. “Thank you.” He grins.

“You looked like maybe you needed it.” He rests his hands on the lip of the bar, staring at you as his smile grows. You can’t help but smile back and huff a laugh.

“What!” You say. He chuckles again.

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N,” he says, still grinning at you. You’re trying really, really hard to remember what he asked.

“Aleks… I’m going to be so honest with you right now, I do not even remember what you asked me.” He shakes his head, smiling at the ground. You catch sight of Clayre rounding the opposite corner of the bar from the bathroom, and you get yet another brilliant idea.

“Hey um you have to go over there to Clayre because she wanted to get a drink,” you say quickly. Aleks looks at you confused.

“Okay… isn’t she coming over here?”

Yes, Aleks. But if she’s over here with me, I’ll have to do all the talking and she won’t be forced to do any of it.

“No uhhhh….” You’re struggling to come up with an excuse. “She said she wants one at that end of the bar… like all the way down there so you gotta go over there.” You shoo him away, before Clayre draws any closer. Thank the Mother he actually catches her before she gets more than a few inches down the length of the bar, and he begins talking to her. You decide you’re not going to look — she can thank you later.

You’re sipping your water, the effect of all those drinks not lessening with the effort when a large, tan male takes a seat beside you. You’re quick to take him in; well, first of all, he’s huge. Even sitting, he towers over the bar. His shoulder length brown hair is halfway tied back, and he has a light brown stubble on the lower half of his face. His tight black pants are lined with a multitude of emptied bands pockets, for weapons that he must have unsheathed for his night out. He must be Illyrian.

Finally he clears his throat and turns to you, sparing you the action of speaking first. Although it is itching you why he’s sitting so close to you, considering all the other empty barstools up here.

“I don’t really know how to start these kind of things…” his voice comes out rough and gravelly. He keeps looking at the brick wall behind the bar, a hand scratching at his chin. You continue to give him a once over.

“Well. Uh, I guess I should probably introduce myself first, right? I’m Cassian.” He says, finally turning to face you. His soft brown eyes meet yours, and he truly is handsome. You give him a small smile, shifting on the stool so you’re knee-to-knee with the stranger.

“Y/N.” You say. He smiles back.

“Y/N. Alrighty… uh.” He clasps his hands together and you glance behind him. Clayre is finally talking with Aleks. Thank the Cauldron.

Your newfound handsome man seems to be stumbling with his words, so you decide to play it up a little bit. You lean over, bending at the waist and place both of your hands on his knees. In doing this, your elbows push together, exposing yourself in your already semi-revealing dress. Is it a little much? Yes. Is it something you’d ever normally do? No. Are we throwing morals out the window tonight? Absolutely.

You stare up at him innocently as his eyes widen, and you see him fighting to look anywhere but your face. He doesn’t have to; his pants are constricting enough that the bulge under his zipper is already beginning to grow. He swallows thickly, clearing his throat. He almost looks like he’s sweating a little.

“Ohh um… so I’m actually not over here for um. Myself, uh…” he chuckles, and you notice he sneaks a glance. Poor guy. His eyes wander right down the valley you’ve created, which doesn’t help his situation. Both pairs of eyes drift there next, and then you make eye contact again. You smirk.

“Hmm… are you… sure? About that? Because it seems like-“ You begin to draw circles with your pointer finger on his knee, and he’s near panting as he grabs both of your hands in his, cutting you off.

“No. I’m…” He takes a breath. “Really. I came over here just to ask if you have a mate or anything.” You smirk.

“Or… anything.” You drawl. He closes his eyes, almost willing his erection to go away. Touching you was a bad idea, even if it was in an attempt to make his situation better. He sets your hands gently back in your lap, and you continue to stare at him innocently. You lift yourself off the barstool, the back of your thighs starting to stick to the leather. Once you’ve peeled them off, you set yourself back down with a slight bounce, allowing Cassian to notice. You swear you can hear a tiny groan come from him at the sight.

“I will take that as a no.” He runs a hand down his face. “Listen Y/N, really, I started this whole thing off so wrong, okay,” he fumbles. You nod, smirking at him.

“It’s my friend that I’m asking for. He’s been kind of, well… he’s been attracted to you all night,” he finishes with a little laugh. You can’t help but laugh with him.

“Mhm, and this, friend,” you say. “Why hasn’t he just come talk to me himself?” Cassian shrugs, looking out at the dance floor, then back to you.

“Honestly, I don’t know why Azriel does half the things he does. But, what I do know is, he’s probably watching us right now and he’s going to kill me when I walk away from you.” He lets out an exasperated groan, and you raise an eyebrow.

Azriel.

Hmm.

“Sounds… charming.” You taunt. Cassian chuckles, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the action. He shakes his head and moves to stand readjusting slightly as he does.

“Just take my word for it, I suppose.” He says, looking down at you one last time with a grin. “I think you two will get along juuuust fine.” You roll your eyes and he stalks off. Whatever that means. You would’ve been fine going home with Cassian.

Clayre meets your eyes, hers filled with so many expressions. Aleks is nowhere to be found, and she mouths from one end of the bar from another.

“IM GOING HOME WITH ALEKS” she points to herself and the swinging door connecting the bar to the kitchen, presumably where Alex’s disappeared to. You give her a thumbs up and smile, silent clapping.

She makes a motion, outlining a huge mass with her hands and then shrugging and pointing to the barstool next to me.

“HE WAS CUTE” She nods her head slowly, eyes wide. I shake my head no.

“WHY?” She mouths back, just as the door swings open, Aleks walking through with his keys in his hand. The clock above the bar now reads 12:35, and Jeremiah follows him out, speaking happily to him and waving him off. He rounds the bar and offers an arm to Clayre, and she looks at you one last time over her shoulder excitedly before exciting out the back door with him. You look toward the dance floor, hoping to spot Cassian but unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be found. There’s no real point in waiting around without a friend, and you’d be damned waiting for a guy who hadn’t talked to you all night to come talk to you now.

You drain the last few sips of water you had left from the slowly melting ice, making to stand and head out when two large hands appear on either side of you, arms boxing you in. Your eyes widen, a cool presence behind you; shadows tickling your jaw and trailing over your collarbone. The scents of cool mint, sage, and sea salt invade your senses; clean, but dangerous. Soft strands of hair brush against the top of your ear as a low, seductive voice, cool as the ice left in your glass rasps:

“I don’t believe we’ve properly met.”

✧･ﾟ: *

Part 2

#azriel smut #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acofas #acotar smut #acotar #acotar fandom #acomaf #rhys acotar #lucien acotar #acowar #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #cassian #azriel #azriel fanfic

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sidthedollface2 · 2 months

Text

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

Azriel sat at his desk, reports and sightings of a hooded being trespassing multiple courts, leaving behind scorched farm lands and destroyed buildings scattered across the table. “Any luck?” Elain questioned, running her gentle hands over Azriel's shoulders, loosening his tense muscles. “I’ve been searching for over 500 years, but I think I'm getting close. Most recent sightings have been by women and children. Day or night it does not matter, they've seen IT and their bodies remain still, unable to move or scream until their work is done.” Azriel stared at the map of Prythian. “I think it’s finally here,” he met Elains worried eyes, “in the Night Court.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel 8 yrs old

Azriel stopped sobbing once he knew no one would come for him. The foul smell of char and burnt flesh still lingered in his cell. His small hands trembled and shook from the intense pain, bubbles full of fluid and blackened skin covered both hands. Fingers locked and unable to move, not even to wipe at his heavy tears. The four walls to his cell provided nothing but cold nights and loneliness. With nothing to soothe the heat from his hands Azriel pressed his blistered palms flat to the cold floors. Hissing through clenched teeth as the coldness relieved some of the ache and heat within. Azriel hummed to a song inside his head, anything to pull his tired mind away from the pain and hopelessness he felt. With his eyes squeezed shut he tried to will the tears away, humming louder and louder to drown out his thoughts. His mind circled to a happier time.

Small feet padding through fields of tall grass as he raced to his favorite spot; under a weeping willow. Perched against the tall tree the scent of fresh apples and citrus filled his nose as the wind carried the delicious scent towards him. His ears caught the melodious song of birds high above him. His gaze tracked up the tree to spot the feathered songbird but as soon as he craned his neck towards the sky time froze. A beautiful luna moth with large iridescent wings took flight, landing on the soft skin of Azriel’s cheek, tickling the small boy awake.

Azriel quickly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the darkness. The scent of citrus still lingered and time was eerily still. His pupils widened, adjusting to focus on what he was seeing. In the corner of his cell a shadowed figure stood still. Scrambling to his feet Azriel backed himself into the wall behind him. The dark figure inched closer, slowly, step by step. The hooded figure reached for Azriel's small hand. He told his mind to pull away, and to resist. But he was frozen against the cold wall, unable to move or cry out for help; not that anyone would help him. He tried to scream but the air left his lungs. Peeking beneath a hood Azriel saw the most stunning and captivating eyes he’d ever seen. Neither of the same color, yet bright and brilliant. One holds the color of the night sky, dark with swirls of violet and starlight. The other is pale and cloudy like the surface of the moon from Prythian. Your long shiny hair framed your youthful face and pouty lips perfectly. You don’t look much older than him yet you have this ancient presence he can't put his finger on.

You're cool fingertips brush his knuckles, testing for his reaction. A small smile graces your lips as you remember that he’s unable to move. At least unable to move his outer extremities and vocal chords. Yet the windows to his soul tell you he's frightened. His wide hazel eyes are glassy, tears slowly filling his waterline. The rapid rise and fall in his chest is another clue to his distress. You let out a soft sigh as a single tear runs down his dirty cheek. Taking a step back you lay your palm flat against your chest, hoping he’ll understand what you intend to convey. Again, you pat your chest and azriel blinks in response. Bringing your hands in front of you, you tuck your fingers in creating a fist and curl both your forefingers and hook them together, with one wrist facing down and the other up you sign the word ‘Friend.’

You wait for his breaths to slow before you gather his burned hand within yours. His knuckles are angry and reddened from the lack of healthy skin. Moderate pieces are blackened and multiple blisters are threatening to burst. Carefully, you examine the extensive damage that was done, and begin to call upon your magic. Azriel's eyes widen to the size of saucers when your fingertips spark with what looks like stardust and your hand turns completely black from your fingertips down to your wrist. You gently run your star glittered forefinger down his. Starting at the base of his knuckle to the tip of his finger, healing all the delicate tissue and epidermis just like it was before. You release the magic holding him still, allowing him to relax his shoulders and curl the finger you healed. “How did-” the words die in his mouth as you continue to work on the next finger. Tracing once again from the base of his knuckle, down his slender finger to his nail. Revealing smooth and supple skin, no longer burned and charred.

The loud sound of a door opening startled both of you apart. Stopping your healing magic at only two fingers, Azriels paniced eyes met yours. You knew what he was asking. But you couldn't grant him more time, at least not yet. Quickly, you pulled your hood up over your head. Closing your hand in a fist you brought it to your chest, moving it in a circular motion; signing the word ‘sorry.’

“Wait!” Azriel’s arms dart out grasping onto the sleeve of your cloak only for the garment to fall at a pile to his feet. “Mother!” he gasped, shocked at your sudden disappearance, leaving behind your cloak that still had warmth and your scent.

He’d kept your cloak all these years, the only cloth in his cell that kept him warm on those freezing nights.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Az, something is breaching the wards, get down here.

Rhys panicked words pierced through Azriel's mind as he abruptly sat up from the bed, the bed he shared with Elain. He quickly pulled his pants on, followed by his shirt and protective leathers. Placing a kiss to Elain's forehead, he winnowed to the location Rhys mentioned.

An invisible force separated the three males from the dark figure that threatened Velaris.

“Is It alone?” Cassian questioned, glancing behind and around the figure, assessing the intruder. His fingers itched at his sides, waiting for the slightest movement to unleash his blade.

“She’s alone.” Rhys confirmed, gaze narrowed and unwavering at the dark figure.

“She?” Both Cassian and Azriel said in unison, a look of shock on both their faces. It wasn’t that they doubted a female's ability. They knew the power that simmered beneath the skin. The unending strength, if provoked enough. The females in the inner circle, if combined, could take on males twice their size and fight wars alongside the bravest of warriors, but not alone. You’d have to be extremely powerful or extremely stupid to dare face the night court’s high lord alone.

Her gaze lifted above to the bright blue sky as if the power holding Velaris safe was visible to the eye. Her head swiveled left, noting how large the protection ran. Then to her right, gauging the amount of magic needed to breach the wards. At the moment, no army trailed behind her. No warrior or protector was by her side. She was simply there to send a message.

“She’s unarmed.” Azriel's shadows slithered back to him, informing him of the lack of weapons and armor. She was defenseless and although a powerful barrier kept her out of Velaris, the two most violent and skilled warriors along with the most powerful highlord stood before her; she remained fearless. Her strong legs planted firm in the soil. It was difficult to determine what was under her dark cloak. His shadows stilled as her gaze met those of the shadowsinger. He knew those eyes. Azriel had searched for those beautiful eyes in every court, in every crowd, in every female. He’d dreamed of the day he’d see them again. His attention was directed to Rhys as he spoke in a firm demanding tone.

“I will say this once, and only once-”

Rhys' voice caught in his throat as the female's palms met the protective barrier. Electric current coursed through her veins, the power of lightning flickered from her fingers creating an orb of pure energy. Her foot dug into the soil behind her as she braced herself pushing through the wards, creating a space for her body to pass. All three males rushed towards her, charging at the enemy with bared teeth and blades ready to attack. Their large bulking frames and violence in their eyes was enough to bring grown men to their feet.

Cassian sent a blast of red power straight towards her, expecting it to hit its target. Although stronger than most fae, his blast passed through her like a strong gust of wind. Whipping her head to its side, causing her long hair to flow out from under her hood. Her feet stayed planted, unwavering.

“Mother above.” Cassian breathed before he held his sword up high, slicing through the air as he brought it down over her head. Rhys' eyes widened for a fraction as Azriel’s truth teller clashed with Cassian, blocking his effort to harm her. Azriel’s shoulder roughly dug into Cassian's chest as he shoved his brother back with force. Betrayal laced in Cassian's eyes as he gaped at his brother. Out of all their arguments and bickering not once has Azriel disagreed with a common enemy.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian sneered, meeting Azriels force with his own. Never one to back down at defending his court or his high lord.

“You foolish boy!” Amren called from a distance, closing the space between them, “you cannot kill a God.”

“Took you long enough,” Rhys tisked, plucking an invisible lint from his dark shirt.

The hooded figure narrowed her eyes at the approaching Amren and scowled at the title that she clearly did not like. Azriel and Cassian ceased their bickering as Rhys' power shook the very ground they stood on, a wave of darkness ready to protect his city.

“No one has breached these wards in 5,000 years.” Rhys declared with all the confidence of a high lord. Stepping forward, commanding the eyes of the hooded figure in a challenge, “what business does a God have in Velaris, surely you have better things to do.”

“Do not mock her, she can kill you where you stand.” Amren whispered. “As can I.” Rhys challenged.

Her face remained unseen under the protection of her hood. Slowly her fingers came up beside her face, grasping the edges of the hood, she pushed the dark fabric over her head, revealing herself.

Amrens words ring true when the goddess reveals herself. Her beauty is unique and divine, flawless in the way that makes males fall to their knees.

All the air from Azriels lungs vanished as he stared into those eyes. Years he’d been searching every court, reading countless books on healers and where they originated. Shamelessly making eye contact with each female he met hoping to one day find the mute girl who gave him purpose. To hope one day he could thank her for her kindness to a boy who had nothing.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Azriel exhaled, holding a palm out to Rhys and his brother letting them know ‘he’s got this.’

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes trailed down Azriels body. Trying your hardest to put a face or name to the male in front of you. After years of imagining how seeing you again would be, he didn't put into account the possibility of you not recognizing him. While Azriel admired how much you've grown since he first saw you. Your gaze seemed to pass right through him. And his worst fears were confirmed with a tilt of your head.

You didn’t remember him.

You couldn't recall any detail or encounter that would cause you to remember the male. Instead you focused your gaze on the High Lord. you were here to deliver a message after all.

“High Lord of Night, ready your soldiers, a war is among you.”

Surprise passed through Azriels eyes as he heard you speak. The day he met you your only form of communication was through hand signs. And now your voice is laced with threat, nothing like the gentle girl he met hundreds of years ago. He wonders what had changed.

“And what do you bring to this war?” Rhys expression hardened. He tried to enter your mind to see for himself the truth of your words. Surprised to see your mind vulnerable for all, yet within the space were no visions or memories of your past, but rings of blazing fire encircled a black hole with unknown knowledge within. Rhys had read about minds with black holes. It was a mystery as to what one would find within the hole. Some say time freezes for the observer, how long till it resumes has never been answered. Others say that if you fall into the black hole your mind fails the body and a blazing fire consumes you from the inside out, leaving behind ashes to be carried by the wind.

“I bring Chaos and unrest, Lord of Night it be wise of you to heed my warning because your life will be in my hands.”

Within seconds the afternoon sky turned dark and gray, the loud crack of thunder boomed in the distance and before either of them could reach you, you summoned a strike of lightning; hitting the ground like a whip. The flash was bright as it hit and Rhys witnessed the wards he placed on Velaris crumble. A loud roar was heard throughout Velaris, a deadly creature answering your call. It was then he realized, struggling to push through a small door to get within the protection wards was just for show. And whatever message you needed to deliver, something frightening answered.

Between the flashes of lightning and the echoes of thunder, just beyond the way they saw hundreds and hundreds of waiting soldiers. Looking at your retreating form, Azriel, Cassian and Amren rubbed at their eyes.

Once you reached the front line of fighters you looked over your shoulder, meeting Rhys powerful gaze and with a slight smirk you replaced his wards and removed the illusioned warriors. Leaving Velaris protected as it once was but now the threat of death and destruction looms near, not only to Rhys but everything and everyone he holds dear in Velaris.

Part 2

~ thank you for reading

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #acotar azriel #azriel imagine #acotar fic #azriel fluff

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emilystheories · 1 year

Text

The Throne of Glass world no longer exists.

It was destroyed by the Asteri to create Midgard.

[Spoilers for Throne of Glass, ACOTAR, and Crescent City]

Many thousands of years ago, and prior to the Asteri's invasion of Midgard, there existed another civilisation. Part of this civilisation lived in a place called Parthos.

More specifically, when asked what the Crescent City world was before the Asteri's reign, Tharion noted that "ancient humans and their gods dwelled here."

An exact description of the Throne of Glass world.

Interestingly, despite the Crescent City books mentioning other continents (such as Pangera), readers are only given a map of Lunathion.

This is particularly strange, as all other SJM books have provided a full world map.

So, why would this be hidden for Crescent City...?

As such, I theorise that Midgard is actually the Throne of Glass world; hence why a full map has not yet been revealed.

Thus, I believe that following the events of Kingdom of Ash, some years later, the Asteri showed up and destroyed their world. The result of this was the creation of Midgard, and subsequently Lunathion - the world Bryce inhabits today.

The Timeline.

Evidently, this theory suggests that the timeline between the ACOTAR, CC and TOG worlds are not simultaneous, but rather that Throne of Glass occurred in the past - many thousands of years ago.

When considering this possibility, some rebut that this cannot be possible, as Aelin fell through worlds - right past Velaris and Lunathion. However, there is nothing to suggest that Aelin didn't also fall through time.

In fact, there are a multitude of hints throughout the various SJM books to suggest that time travel, or time manipulation, is indeed possible:

When the Asteri lured people into Midgard, it is said they offered a hand through "space and time."

The Harp, when used, can transport people through "space and eons." In fact, the 26th string is time itself - but what happens when a full melody is played?

Merrill straight up suggests that all of the worlds overlap - sharing the same space, but are separated by time. Almost as if it suggests that ACOTAR, CC and TOG are in the same 'world,' but manifestations of differing time periods; the past (TOG), the present (ACOTAR), and the future (CC).

Most importantly, when Bryce lands in Prythian, she starts to wonder if she had travelled in time; or, if this new world occupies a different time period (the exact concept that Merrill just suggested...)

Further, in her most recent interview, SJM was asked whether time travel would play a part in future books. SJM mysteriously replied, "no spoilers."

Thus, if this theory is correct, and Throne of Glass is indeed set in the past, then it is perhaps no coincidence that "Midgard" is the Norse name for "Earth."

And that "Terrasen" means "Old Earth."

Parthos.

As previously mentioned, a portion of the civilisation that used to inhabit Midgard (and as this theory suggests, the TOG characters) resided in an ancient city called Parthos.

As readers, we are first offered a glimpse of Parthos when Apollion takes Bryce to a "dream world" - a landscape in which the Great Library of Parthos used to be.

When in this dream world, Bryce notes that what remains of Parthos is a "DUSTY plain."

Interestingly, in the ACOTAR world, the Bone Carver mentioned that the world he (and his siblings) came from is now nothing more than "DUST drifting across a plain."

As the Bone Carver mentions this, Feyre notes that he draws three interlocking circles into the ground.

This is the exact symbol of Bryce's Archesian necklace - which is also the symbol of Parthos.

If this theory is correct, then the Bone Carver originated from Parthos - from the Throne of Glass world.

Considering the similarities between the Bone Carver and the Sin Eater (the absent God-like being in the TOG world who quite literally carved bones, and was known as the 'God of Truth')... it makes perfect sense.

However, the most telling clue of all, that connects everything together, is this;

Knowing that Parthos is referred to as a "dusty" plain, consider Rowan's words to Aelin:

"I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a FORGOTTEN WHISPER OF DUST between the stars, I will love you."

Why would the world Aelin and Rowan inhabit ever turn into a "forgotten whisper of dust"? Just like Parthos?

Because IT IS Parthos.

It is the world the Asteri destroyed to create Midgard.

Asteri Archives.

As even further proof, recall that when Bryce entered the Asteri's archive rooms at the end of CC2, she found notes on how Midgard came to be.

These notes stated that the "indigenous life was not sustainable" for the Asteri.

If this theory is correct, this suggests that the "indigenous" lives were the Throne of Glass humans, and that they did not possess enough magic (or first-light) to feed the Asteri.

We already know this is true, as it was a similar problem that the Valg previously faced.

Additionally, on the exact same page of the notes that detail the Asteri's invasion of Midgard, there is a sketch of both a wolf shifter, and a mer.

The wolf shifters and the mer are the two species confirmed to be the Throne of Glass fae.

So, it begs the question; why were the Throne of Glass fae explicitly mentioned on the Asteri's Midgard (pre-colonisation) notes...?

The Southern Continent.

If Midgard is built on the ruins of the Throne of Glass world, then I believe that Lunathion is situated on the Southern Continent (the setting of the TOG book, Tower of Dawn).

More specifically, as Lunathion is said to be modelled after an "ancient city," I believe it is modelled after the famed Southern Continent City - Antica.

In Tower of Dawn, Antica is described as a city surrounded by a wall, lined with "olive groves" and "wheat farms" bordering the city.

Lunathion is described in the exact same way:

Further, both Lunathion and Antica have "arid" climates:

Lunathion:

Antica:

And, most notably, both are surrounded by deserts; a unique geographical feature that is not prominently featured in other SJM settings.

As such, this suggests that the lost library of Parthos, is the Torre Cesme.

Perhaps the most sacred building in the entirety of the Throne of Glass world, the Torre Cesme is home to a huge library - one that is said to be the oldest.

In the present day, Jesiba Roga guards the remaining books that were once held in the library of Parthos (or, in the Torre Cesme library).

Prior to the end of CC1, Jesiba kept these books locked away in her store, Griffin Antiquities. Interestingly, a set of "glaring owl eyes" had been placed on the store to Jesiba's shop.

Owl's are the symbol of Silba, and the healers of the Torre Cesme.

Further, considering that Yrene's healing abilities are the exact same as Bryce's Starborn powers - could this explain why Jesiba looked like she had "seen a ghost" when she first beheld Bryce's Starborn light?

Such a notion makes even more sense when you consider that Hypaxia's tutor was brought back to life using necromancy, and was originally an inhabitant of Parthos.

Hypaxia states that this tutor specifically trained her in healing magic; just like the healers of the Torre Cesme.

In fact, the scene of Hypaxia removing the Kristallos venom is near identical to Yrene removing the Valg parasite from Chaol:

Lidia Cervos.

Speaking of necromancy, knowing that Hypaxia's family dabbles in such magic calls into question the identify of Lidia, Hypaxia's half-sister.

Is she Aelin Galathynius, brought back to life?

Or, perhaps she is a child of Aelin and Rowan, brought back to life?

Not only do Lidia and Aelin look near identical,

Not only is Lidia represented by flame (Aelin's power),

But her shifted form is that of a deer; that sacred animal of Terrasen. Even her last name "Cervos" is a type of female deer.

Lidia is also seen wearing a "gold ring, crowned with a square, clean-cut ruby." This is the exact description of the ring Aelin have to Rowan when they married.

Further, Ruhn also suggests that Lidia must be an Asteri, or as old as one, given the way she uses language. However, as Lidia is only 47, this makes no sense.

However, it makes perfect sense if Ruhn is actually talking to Aelin, or Aelin's child; someone who, according to this theory, existed many thousands of years ago.

(And, as a side note - given that Lidia looks like the "spitting image" of Luna, and that Luna's sacred animal is the Stag... could it be that Luna is Aelin? And that Lunathion was named after her?)

Connections.

Is it then perhaps no coincidence that one of the houses of Lunathion is the "House of Flame and Shadow." Aelin was known as the "Queen of Flame and Shadow."

In fact, Throne of Glass being the past world of Crescent City explains a plethora of connections:

The "Stag King" of Avallen.

Ruhn being named after the Ruhnn mountains.

Why so many CC places sound like TOG places (Morrah = Morath, Korinth = Orynth).

The witches worshipping the same "three-faced goddess."

Why wyrdmarks can be found everywhere (especially underwater, where some of the ruins of the "ancient civilisation" are said to lie).

It also explains the "World of Throne of Glass" book, which to this day, mysteriously remains unpublished.

According to SJM, the World of Throne of Glass is an "encyclopedia" that documents the full history of the Throne of Glass world. Written by a "grumpy librarian," SJM stated that it will "feel like a book you can pull off the shelves of an ancient library."

It's almost as if the World of Throne of Glass is a Parthos book in itself...

Is that why it remains unreleased?

Future books.

If this theory is correct, some may wonder how SJM could possibly include TOG characters if they are indeed dead.

I believe there are two viable options:

The "rewrite history" route:

In a future multiverse book series, the main characters of CC and ACOTAR would team up, and using the Harp/Horn (or perhaps the full power of the Dread Trove), they would go back in time. In doing so, they would join forces with the TOG characters, and stop the Asteri from ever overthrowing their world.

If successful, it would mean that the Dusk Court was never destroyed. At present, Bryce is hinted to be the ruler of this court... but it doesn't exist (and there isn't a lot of time to rebuild an entire city). However, if time manipulation was used... no rebuilding would be necessary.

It would also explain why the Oracle told Ruhn that the "royal bloodline will end" with him - as Midgard would never be created, the same applies for the Autumn King's reign.

The "escape" route:

Alternatively, perhaps when the Asteri arrived in the TOG world, some of the main characters were able to escape into other worlds - such as Prythian.

This would explain why so many of the characters in the ACOTAR and TOG worlds share many similarities (for example, Tamlin as the ancestor of Aedion and Lysandra...)

This would also explain why so many of the ACOTAR character's last names have been hidden from the reader.

Some characters may have escaped elsewhere too, such as Hel...

(^ This is more of a crack theory, but there's only two characters in the SJM universe who have "freakishly" blue eyes, can shape shift into any form they choose, and have powers that manifest as cold...)

However, no matter the method of saving the world, or storyline adopted, Aelin said it best herself:

"This world will be saved and remade by the dreamers."

#sjm theory #sjm crossover #sjm multiverse #acotar #acotar theory #crescent city theory #throne of glass #aelin galythinius #feyre #rhysand #bryce quinlan #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #azriel #sarah j maas #crescent city

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fanttasttica · 6 months

Text

Shy priestess

Rhysand x reader

You were shy priestess working in the Library in Velaris who became friends with Morrigan. One day, she decided to became matchmaker and you became her first client.

warnings: smut (only indicated)

words: 3456

You loved working in the library. Maybe a story about why you got this job and how you got to Velaris isn't that nice at all, working here bringed you peace you never thought you wanted in the first place. You were growing up in one of the Illyrian camps and all you knew your whole life was work. Now you also had plenty of things you had to do, but you still had some time you could spend by doing something you enjoy, like reading and painting, chatting with some other Priestess. For the first time in your life, you had someone you could call your friends. Most of them were quite shy at first, but you couldn't blame them, since you were practically the same. But after you warmed up to each other, becoming friends was easy with them. And that's how it exactly was with Morrigan. You knew who she was, a rather important person for your court. One time, she visited the Library looking for some old books and maps she promised to bring to the High lord and she met you, asking for help. She was very friendly and very talkative, so it was easy to spend time in her presence. She was asking you questions but wasn't pushing you to talk, she herself managed to ensure that there was no awkward silence.

One day Morrigan once again visited you, only for a chat, when she dropped a bomb “I almost forgot! Rhysand will come tomorrow. He is again looking for some old books about Prythian, I don't honestly know why, nor that I care“ she shrugged. “But last time, he was very happy with the books you helped find me. So I told him your name and he will come to you, so you can help him” you were just sorting books on the shelves, and after this information, you nearly dropped them all. Turning at her with a nervous expression on your face. “High lord? High lord is going to come tomorrow expecting me to help him? Are you kidding?” As much as you loved her, you wanted to punch her right now. “Oh don't worry, Rhys is maybe a pain in my ass, but he is a really nice gentleman to ladies. He will be happy with any advice you will give him” it was easy for her to say that and you knew that she didn't mean any harm, but you were scared. He was the most powerful High lord in Prythian and a man you have never met before, this didn't help your shyness and nervousness. “If you say so..” you mumbled to yourself, turned back at her and continued to stock books on the shelves. “Hey.. don't worry. I already told him about your shyness, he will not push you into talking much.” your cheeks were red as tomatoes, not liking that Mor was telling High lord about how much shy you are. It was a pure fact, but you still weren't comfortable with it. “I am not here for that long.. I am sure there is someone better than me, who would be happy to help him.” You argued with her, knowing in advance, that this was a lost fight. Morrigan grinned at you. “Don't be so insecure. You are working really hard and know probably more things about this Library than other Priestesses, which are here for many years.” this was complimenting you, you couldn't lie. “And beside that.. They are not as beautiful as you..” she winked at you and you laughed, thinking that she was flirting with you for a joke. “Oh Mor, thank you, but I am not interested..” She shakes her head. “I am serious. You are very clever and beautiful, give yourself a little credit. And I would love to have you in my family.” After this sentence, it finally hit you. “You cannot possibly be serious! Don't even try to say that the reason why you are sending the High Lord to me is in hope that you will get us together!” Once again, you wanted to punch her and then run into your room and cry. This was a nightmare. “No! I really think you are very clever and will help him.. Possibility of matching you two together is just another dream of mine. You know, I love Rhys, but he needs someone who will put him in his place and also help him with his responsibilities. And if it helps with your nerves, you are not the first, I am trying to set up with him. I have been doing this for a few years now.” She smiled at you innocently and You rolled your eyes at her in response, not believing this audacity of hers. “Yeah.. that's definitely something you should be proud of..”

The next day came too quickly. In the morning, you were deciding if you should get up or fake some terrible illness to avoid meeting with the High lord. You would be probably the first woman ever, who would do something like that. And it would not help anything.. Morrigan was way too stubborn for that. She would drag you to the House of wind, where she, High lord and other members of Inner circle live, only to introduce you two. Or she would drag High lord here another time, this time not giving you warning before head. Both scenarios seemed more embarrassing than meeting the High lord today, so you forced yourself to get up and get ready.

You weren't sure when the High lord would make his appearance. Secretly you were still hoping that Morrigan was maybe just joking with you and he wasn't coming. Your hopes were getting bigger and bigger with the evening coming. You were finishing your work, only being maybe half an hour to retiring to your room, so you could have a free evening, when you suddenly heard steps coming your way. Sounds of confident footsteps were echoing loudly, since no one but you was in this part of the Library. The voice in the back of your head was already telling who it is. Maybe it was because of how powerful his aura was, but you knew, felt, that it was no other than the High lord himself. Once the footsteps stopped, you turned to look at him and oh boy.. You were stunned. It was the first time you saw him. Of course you heard that he was supposed to be incredibly handsome, but this? He was big, obviously very strong, his hair was perfect, eyes were addictive to look at and his smirk.. He made your legs weak. For the first few seconds you were looking at him quietly and he was doing the same. The look in his eyes with which his eyes were scanning made your cheeks red. “It's nice to meet you, High lord.” You bowed lightly, finally remembering some manners. He nodded, “The pleasure is all mine.” Shit, even his voice was sexy. How can you survive this without embarrassing yourself? “As you know, I am looking for something about Prythian, the earlier history, the better.” His kind eyes were smiling at you, as you nodded and gestured behind him. “The oldest books we have on this topic are right behind you.” You said and walked past him to the shelves, picking up some books and turning to face him. “There is something about the foundation of Prythian and the next book is about the first High lords.” You said and gave them to him, his fingers brushed softly yours, which made your heart beat faster. “Thank you, Y/N.” You looked down on your dress. “You are welcome, High lord.” You said respectfully and you two fell into silence. He cleared his throat. “Mor told me a lot of things about you.” He continued this awkward conversation, you wanted to end this, it was weird. “Yes, I believe in that. She can be very.. sharing.” He chuckled at these words. “Well, I would use other words, but yes.. She is very sharing. I don't want to know anything she said about me, but be sure that she speaks very highly about you.” You knew Morrigan wasn't telling anything bad about you, she wasn't like that, but you still planned on cursing her the next time she will come to visit you. “I have no doubts about it.” Single sentence as response, but it still took a lot from you. “Well.. I should probably take my leave now. Thank you for your time.” He smiled at you and you did the same. “It was no trouble, don't worry.” After that, he left you all alone. You were looking at the place where he was standing only a few seconds ago, not looking away for several minutes, as you were in trance. This was the most embarrassing and awkward conversation you ever had. And yet.. you somehow still enjoyed it? High lord seemed really nice and was trying to start a small conversation with you, it was a shame that you didn't make it easier for him. Shaking head, you returned to your work, but you couldn't focus on it anymore.

And you couldn't focus for many days after the meeting with the High lord. Still thinking about it, daydreaming about him. You didn't know what he had done to you and you felt stupid. You spent hardly five minutes and you developed a crush on him. What was maybe even worse is that you knew you were not the only one who had a crush on him and you knew that you weren't any more special than the other girls he had met. Nothing, this was nothing, it couldn't be. You were being stupid. “Y/N? Helooo?” You heard Morrigan behind you, you turned, so you were now facing her. “Yes?” Morrigan put her hands or her hips, shaking her head at you. “What's wrong with you girl? I was shouting at you like crazy for a while now. Are you okay?” You inhaled deeply, blinking fast. “I am okay, don't worry. I was just.. thinking, lost in my thoughts.” You admitted, praying that she will not ask anything more, but it seemed that she didn't have to. Her lips turned into a smirk. “I wonder who you were thinking about..” She grabbed your arms and led you to the chairs, which were in the middle of the room, next to a table. “So, tell me everything about your meeting with Rhysand. I already heard his point of view, but I want to hear yours.” You placed your head into your hands. “Mor.. Please.. This is just.. weird. I don't like this.” She pursed her lips, not taking this as an answer. “Oh please! Don't tell me he isn't your type. I am not judging his appearance, because it would be awkward, but I know that many girls are throwing themselves on him. So, talk.” You groaned and tried to sort your thoughts. What should you tell her? “It wasn't a long conversation. He came, I gave him books, he told me that you are talking about me often and in a good way. And that's practically everything. Nothing more, nothing less.” You shrugged and stood up from your chair, walking back to the table where you were working before. She was still sitting in the same spot, watching you. “My dear Y/N.. I already knew that. And I also know that you know that this isn't the answer I was looking for.” You rolled your eyes at her, nor that she could see you. “Okay.. Okay.. He is handsome. And he was also very nice, I suppose. Are you satisfied now?” She squealed and pulled you into a hug. She was happy, at first you weren't sure if she heard you right and didn't imagine something else. “Calm down.. I only like him. It's not like I am telling you that we are dating. There is.. nothing. Nothing, you understand? Maybe he is nice, but that doesnt mean I will do anything about it.” She was clearly disappointed in your words and was going to take this. Not giving up, she winked at you. “Maybe you won't, but I will.”

Morrigan fulfilled her promise. The very next day, she came again and she was not the only one, she dragged Rhysand with her. The same scenario repeated the next day, the day after and after.. This meetings were embarrassing at first, but after some time, you warmed up to the High Lord, talking with him more comfortably, asking him questions and at one point you start forgetting Morrigan was here too. Of course she didn't mind. She was sitting quietly as a mouse and listening to you, most of the time smiling happily as she watched you two together. And one day? Rhysand came again, but this time without Morrigan. At first, you thought that she had more important work than being a matchmaker, but the next day, Rhysand came again, without her. “Is Morrigan ill or does she have so much work?” You asked him. Rhysand was sitting at the table with you, doing some paperwork, while you were looking at one book Clotho had given you, so that you can find some important information for her there. “She is perfectly well, why are you asking?” Rhysand looked up at you from his paper. “ You shrugged “Everytime you came, she was with you. I was just wondering if she is alright. It's a little bit weird that you are here without her.” You admitted to him. It was still unusual for you to talk with Rhysand as if he was a friend. Well.. in your mind, you were wishing that he could be something more than a friend, but you kept that to yourself, still thinking it was stupid from you. “Perhaps that's true.. But you know that I am not here because she forced me, right?” You raised your eyebrow. “You are not?” He once again managed to make your heart beat faster. The feeling as if you have butterflies in your stomach has also been added recently. “No, I am not. I.. to be honest, for the first time, I was here because of her. The next time, I took her with me for support and for you.” You didn't understand this right away. “For me?” He sighed and leaned back comfortably in the chair. “Yes. She told me that you were really shy and I saw that too. I wanted you to be more comfortable and well I thought that maybe with Mor, it would be easier for you.” Your cheeks were red, but you smiled at him. “That is so thoughtful and nice of you. Thank you.” He waved his hand, not wanting to take extra credits for what he did. “It was the smallest thing I could do. Nothing special, really.. But.. When we are already talking about this.. We both know why I was here for the first time. She tried to set us up. And I don't know how about you, but it worked for me..” He winked at you, a devilish smirk was on his lips, which you wanted to kiss so desperately. “So I would like to invite you on a date. As you know, Starfall is coming and I was wondering if you would like to join me and my family. It's probably also time for you to meet them. Cassian is already very impatient and so is Azriel.” You were thinking for a while, before you finally nodded lightly, not knowing what did get yourself into.

“What I am saying is that you picked the wrong one for us. Little Rhysie is maybe a High lord, but I would be better. Just look at me!” You were after dinner in the house of Wind, on the night of Starfall, currently sitting on the couch with Cassian, who was already a little bit drunk. It was clear that he was saying those things to piss off Rhysand. And it was working. The male appeared next to you in a few seconds. “Cassian, can you go bother someone else? Azriel is having a calm evening, you can ruin his mood and not Y/N´s.” Rhysand was smirking at his brother, then he turned at you and his smile turned into a more honest one. “Who said that he was ruining my mood? And beside that, I think Cassian is a really good companion.” You decided to have a little fun with the High Lord. It worked, you saw change in his eyes, now they were challenging. “Oh my darling, I can show you that I am way better companion than he is. I only need to be one minute alone with you.” You pressed your legs together, as you felt your core throbbing. It was only one sentence, but it had a big impact. High Lord took your hand and helped you to stand up. “Come with me.” You followed him obediently, ignoring Cassian, when he was shouting at you to at least try to be quiet. You were glad that Mor wasn't here so she didn't see that, she would laugh at you and then she would celebrate more than when she found out you were coming to the Starfall as Rhysand´s date. Rhysand led you to the small balcony on the other side of the house, so you could have some privacy, for the first time in this night. “You look breathtaking tonight.” Rhysand complimented you, still holding your hand, as you stood at the edge of the balcony, where there was a wonderful view of the city. “Thank you, you don't look bad yourself.” Every time you saw him, you thought the same thing, that he can possibly look better than before and yet.. It was true. You fell into comfortable silence, during which many stars appeared and started falling across the sky. It was amazing, you felt like you were dreaming. Feeling like a princess in this dress, standing next to your prince, who has now hugging you tightly. You weren't sure when he pulled you into his embrace, but you weren't protesting. You leaned your back against his strong chest and felt a little kiss on your exposed shoulder. You turned your head, so now you were facing him. His face was only centimeters from yours. You looked into his eyes and then on his lips. He understood what you were thinking of and leaned closer to you. He brushed his lips softly against yours, tasting you for the first time, but it wasn't enough for either of you. Your lips finally met, kissing properly this time, suddenly lost in each other. There wasn't anything but you two. Two souls, which had finally found each other. Two halves that came together.

“So.. I am waiting for your thanks.” Being woken up by Morrigan saying these words wasn't something you needed to experience, since you were in Rhysand ́s, your mates, bedroom and covered in nothing else but his white sheets. You groaned at her, burying your head in Rhysands chest, still half asleep.You had to catch up on your sleep, since Rhys decided to keep you awake for most of the night, pleasuring you, making you his. “We are grateful for your matchmaking skills, dear cousin, but I believe that this conversation can wait till later after we put some clothes on us.” She giggled happily, told you to take as much time as you need and left the room. “I'm wondering what clothes I am supposed to wear when you tore the only dress I have here last night.” You mumbled softly and sat up, while his sheets fell from your body, which was now exposed to him. Maybe you should cover up, but he already saw everything, so why bother. “Hmm.. “ Rhysands hand traveled from your bare back to your breast, finding one nipple and squeezed it. You bit your lips. “Today? You aren't going to put anything on yourself, because I am not going to let you get up from this bed, my darling. And tomorrow? I will buy you every dress in Velaris, if you wish.” You giggled “I think there is no need for that. I only need one.” Rhysand pushed you into the mattress and leaned over you. “If you think that I will allow you to leave the store with only one dress, you are pretty naive.” He started planting wet kisses on your neck, which already bore his marks from last night. “I am planning on spoiling you and there is no point arguing. I can be very convincing..” He licked his lips and let's say that you were convinced by him many times that day.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfic #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand #morrigan #cassian

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lanitalay · 3 months

Text

At sea

Rhysand x reader

a/n: Hi my loves!!!! I wrote this to break the ice after winter break. It will likely have one or two more parts. Wanted to write some Rhysand fluff after destroying his character in Before I say goodnight lol.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Summary: reader returns home after months at sea.

Part 2

Salt coated the railings you clung to while walking down the stairs to the main deck. The summer sun had dried up the water that had crashed against the ship all night long. Now small crystals blanket every surface on board. You make it down the wonky steps, map rolled and tucked under your arm. It had been a rough passage last night, the shaking had kept most of the crew on board hugging buckets, unable to control the bile. It was the most dangerous part of the voyage, the captain had to watch out for jagged rocks that were mostly covered by water or mist, towering waves and fog overhead that prevented the guiding stars to be visible.

It would be a matter of days now. If you squinted you could swear the shoreline of Velaris was on the horizon. This time it had been an entire season. The trek had started the day after the last of the snow melted and you would be back just shy of the summer solstice. You had never been gone this long from your home. The salt air was starting to stink, you yearned for green fields and pine scented breezes.

You had collected more samples than ever before. The botany in the foreign lands you visited was truly magnificent and different to what you were accustomed to in the Night Court. In your private quarter you had managed to fit around one thousand dried samples of leaves, roots, flowers and a few insects along with some living plants, placed carefully near the port hole and a plethora of seeds. Your favorite treasure was an exceptional plant that you had meticulously looked after because the bright violet color of the flowers reminded you of a pair of matching eyes back home. Rhysand. You tried not to think of him. You really really did. But in the flowers you saw his eyes. In the stars you saw his smile. In dark waters you saw his fury. In the sea shanties you heard his drunken laugh. A sigh escapes your frowning mouth.

He might have married or mated by the time you return. Not that anything romantic existed outside of your wildest dreams. But he was your friend. You had known him since the head researcher of the priestesses had sent for a field researcher, since she did not feel ready to be outside of the sacred library walls. You had been recruited because your father was a renowned explorer and you had grown up by his side. Every shore in Prythian and the Continent was familiar to your family. Every shore unknown called your name.

Rhysand was the one who brought you to the library the first time. He had wanted to be present and even gave you a tour himself of the massive sanctuary. Since then, each time you return he flies you to the library and you tell him an abridged version of what you saw on your travels. Sometimes you think that he holds you a little tighter than the last time he saw you and you stop yourself before even thinking that there is a glint in his eyes that indicates something more than polite interest.

The days pass slowly. Eventually, the familiar cliff sides and hilly landscape come into view. Relief floods your chest. You would be staying a while this time. Cataloging all of the new materials would take at least until the end of summer. Flapping sounds from above and you look up expecting to see the mast ripped but instead a gliding shadow figure high above. An inevitable smile forms on your face.

It feels like docking the boat took forever. But once all the ropes are tied and the masts lowered, the bridge gets lowered and you all but leap to the wooden platform and to the young High Lord that’s waiting for you. Sprinting you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and relishing the feeling of being on solid ground. “Welcome home, explorer” his smooth voice soothes your racing heart. Seconds pass before you let go and look at him. He’s beaming, his hair has gotten longer since you’d gone, his face is clean shaven and he smells of home. You open your mouth to speak but his smile- his smile is making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than his mouth. So you stall. Your hands ruffle his hair in the way you knew would annoy him and he laughs.

“I’m so glad to be back” you finally say.

Flying to the House of Wind was routine at this point in your career. You would land and immediately go debrief with your head researcher. But today Rhys had asked you if you were hungry. The grumble in your stomach told him you were. So now you were eating a lovely lunch prepared by the house. It felt decadent to eat anything other than fish and potatoes. You moan as you bite and the High Lord in front of you chuckles.

“What else did you find?”

“Besides the plants there were incredible creatures there. Some had fur and some had scales. I drew them in my books” you point towards the bag you had brought with you most precious items. He reaches for it and begins to flip through the pages of your findings.

“This is fascinating” he breathes.

“What about you? Is there anything new in the Court?” You notice his jaw clench for a fraction of a second. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head and closes the book “there are whispers of war”. Your blood drains from your face. “What do you mean?”

His face is now the face of a High Lord, relaying important information to a court member “Hybern has been making some advances, Prythian is too fragmented to stand a chance”. The war that had put the wall between the human realm and the seven courts had ended not one hundred years ago. Villages were still recovering. The Courts were still shifting in new power dynamics.

“What can I do?” You were no warrior. The amount of times you’d trained with the Inner Circle you could count on one hand and it had always been to appease Cassian. Rhys looks away “nothing, we are trying our best to unify and organize our armies”. Something akin to a thorn nestles itself in your heart “and how are you going to do that?”

He swallows and looks straight through your eyes “I’m marrying the Princess of Autumn”.

#acosf #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acofas #acomaf #rhysand #lucien vanserra #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #fluff #light angst #angst #angst with a happy ending

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shadowdaddies · 3 months

Note

Could I request an angst and fluff/comfort fic where the reader is the long lost half-sister of both Azriel and Cassian. (She shares a father with Cassian and a mother with Azriel.) She’s super shy and they are protective of her. Maybe they find her in a dangerous situation and save her. Thank you and I love your writing ☺️

hi my love! thank you for the kind words and for the request. I love this idea, I hope you like it💜 (omg I wrote and posted this whole thing before I noticed the “long lost” part I’m sorry)

A New Illyria

Cassian x Azriel x Valkyrie sister!Reader

Warnings: mentions of injury, violence, mentions of torture

Cold snow seeped through your combat boots, the familiar cold air of Windhaven bringing a pink tinge to your nose and cheeks. Teeth chattered next to you, a smirk on your face as you turned to see Nesta rubbing her arms as she fought the cold.

“How do you stand this?” she gritted through her teeth, eyes focused on the Valkyries sparring on the training mats ahead of you.

“I was born here. Velaris is almost too warm for me,” you joked, pausing the conversation to call out a correction to a young warrior’s form.

Nesta made a gagging sound at the mention of your childhood. “I will never understand how you turned out even relatively normal growing up here, and with Cassian and Azriel as brothers?” She rolled her eyes in jest, a small laugh escaping her at the thought.

“I wouldn’t have survived without them, really. Azriel protected me from our father, kept my wings from being clipped. And without Cassian, I never would have met Rhys and his mother either. They’re a better family, and brothers, than I could have dreamed of.”

Willing back the tears that lined your eyes at the thought of your family, you stepped assertively into the ring. Turning over your shoulder, you winked at Nesta, adding, “and best of all, they trained me.”

“Alright Valkyries, listen up,” you called, Nesta stepping up to stand along side you as you addressed your warriors. “You are dismissed from training for today. I suggest you get some good rest tonight, because we’ll being sparring with the Illyrian males tomorrow as we prepare to combine forces against Koschei.”

With a nod of dismissal, you and Nesta left the training center, heading back to the strategy tent where your brothers stood with Rhys and Feyre, all focused on a map of Prythian. Cassian wrapped Nesta in a hug, her attitude instantly improving at his warm arms wrapped around her. Azriel came over to you, your brother pulling you in for a hug as he brought you over to the strategy board.

“How did training go?” He asked, hazel eyes watching carefully as he brought his arm around your shoulder.

You glanced at Nesta, the two of you sharing a tired look as you let out a wry laugh. “It was fine. The Valkyries are more than prepared, but I can’t say the same for the Illyrians. I saw Devlon and some others watching our training. They’re still furious about our being welcome to train here.”

Rhys’s violet eyes pierced you, the raw power of a High Lord shining through. “They will follow the orders given to them, or face the consequences.” You nodded to him, his promise doing little to settle the unease that filled you as you recalled the looks you’d received since your arrival.

You ate dinner quickly at the Valkyries’ food hall before heading to your private tent on the females’ side of the camp. As feelings of restlessness and nausea roiled through your body, you tossed and turned in your cot for what felt like hours - until you heard a crack in the distance, followed by a shout.

Drawing your dagger, you crept through the flaps of your tent, vision struggling to focus in the dark night as you left to investigate. A rustling sound came from the edge of the camp, your instincts on alert as you prepared to face your attacker.

You released a deep breath as Nesta revealed herself as the cause of the noise, peering out of her shared tent with Cassian as her silvery eyes locked with yours. She strode towards you, looking around warily when she reached your tent.

“Did you hear that shout?” she whispered, a white-knuckle grip on Ataraxia as she examined the surrounding tents for any sign of disturbance.

You nodded, gesturing towards the other edge of camp where a light flickered behind a tent. “It sounded like it came from that direction. Might just be nothing,” you breathed, that nausea creeping in your gut from earlier.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you looked to Nesta, who seemed as unsteady as you felt. “Let’s just go check it out. Make sure everything is okay,” she whispered, not waiting before stalking towards the light.

As you neared the tent, you heard muffled sounds, a clatter of metal before glass shattered to the ground. The tent caught fire, flames quickly spreading across the structure. Opening your mouth to let out a call for help, a hand wrapped around you, dagger piercing your wing as your vision grew blurry. You saw the glint of Ataraxia in the moonlight as it clattered to the ground from Nesta’s hand before the world faded to black.

The first thing you noticed when you awoke was the pounding against your skull, your vision fading in and out of focus. Your tried to bring your hands to rub your eyes, instead feeling cold iron shackled around your wrists. Alertness came to you at the realization, suddenly more aware of your arms stretched high above your head, the sharp pain through your wings, spread out and nailed to the wall.

Your voice echoed faintly through your mind, heavy head craning to see Nesta, Gwyn, and other shackled to the walls on either side of you. “Faebane,” you uttered out, recognizing the feeling from what you’d heard of the drug.

Gwyn nodded, her eyes heavy as she leaned against the cold stone. “They laced our food with it. All of the Valkyries.”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, searing pain cutting through as your wings twitched against their restraints. You had failed these females, your soldiers. You bit your lip to hold back the tears that threatened to fall when a heavy door swung open.

Devlon strode into the room, the smug grin on his face mirrored by the number of Illyrian males flanking him on each side. “Your halfbreed High Lord is a fool to believe he has control over these camps. Much less your bastard brother,” he clicked his tongue, glancing toward where Nesta glared at him from the other side of the room.

“We will not allow our resources and weapons to be sullied by females any longer. You are a waste of space, hindering real warriors’ abilities to prepare for the upcoming war.” Devlon pulled a dagger - your dagger - from his holster, a wicked gleam in his eye as he held it to the light.

“Despite our attempts at discussion as to why you are a plague on this camp, our message seems to have fallen on deaf ears. Unsurprising when halfbred bastards are in charge.”

Refusing to show your fear, you maintained eye contact with Devlon as he slammed your dagger into the stone just above your wing, grazing the blade against the sensitive membrane. “I think that your wings on display at camp would be a fitting memo, don’t you?”

Gathering what little moisture remained in your weakened body, you spat in Devlon’s eye, the warlord rearing back in anger as he delivered a slap to your face. You smiled through bloody teeth at him, the Illyrian visibly shaken by your reaction. Curling his lip in disgust, Devlon pulled your wing taut as he twirled the dagger in his other hand - only to be interrupted by the door bursting open, blue and red light flashing throughout the room as male warriors dropped dead.

Heads turned, a bright smile lighting your features as you finally let the tears fall at the sight of your brothers. Rage filled their eyes, Cassian cutting down any male who stood between himself and Nesta as he sought his mate. Azriel ripped Devlon off of you, flinging the male to the ground as his head hit stone with a sickening crunch.

Rhys followed behind, waving away your shackles with a flick of his hand. Azriel caught you, holding you close to his chest as your brother apologized profusely. You shook your head, holding him as close as your sore muscles would allow.

Cassian pulled Nesta along with him, the three of you embracing while Azriel went to help Gwyn and the rest. When you returned to the camps, they were noticeably more empty than usual, and one look at the dark swirls of anger in Rhys’s eyes told you all that you needed to know.

Your army would be down in numbers, but stronger in alliance as you prepared to defend your home. All of you slept in the cabin that night, finding comfort in being with your brothers, and planning for tomorrow when you would rebuild the Night Court - forming an army that defended and valued all of its citizens.

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elriel4 · 7 days

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Okey so it’s literally 2am here and i couldn’t sleep after seeing this so we know that there is some similarities between the UK map and the map of prythian right? and from the moment i finished acotar i wondered where does rosehall locate in, i did my researches about if there is any part of the world is named after rosehall and guess what ? There is !! And guess where ? In the UK i was shocked so lemme show you where it’s actually located in the UK first and then i will show where it can be possibly located in prythian

In the UK:

And this is where i think it will be in prythian:

Shocking right ? And i made it on purpose near the prison where most of the fandom think it’s where the dusk court is located and where we know that azriel have a lot of ties with that we might see in the next book

I just found this very interesting and i would like to search more about the actual real rosehall cause we might find something who knows !!

I feel insane after all this digging tbh

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #prythian #night court #rose hall #elain and azriel #rhysand #illyrian #ramiel #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #pro elain #elain x azriel #elriel

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danikamariewrites · 7 months

Text

Turning

Vampire!Eris x reader

Summary: Eris Vanserra, King of vampires in Prythian, and his bride-to-be celebrate her decision to truly spend forever together. @erisweek2023

A/n: I give you king vampire Eris and his very devoted queen! Eris week has been so much fun, I’ve loved reading everyone’s fics/hc/posts/blurbs, edits, and art! This fandom is so freakin talented and I’m so happy to be on here with you guys❤️ I decided to add links to pictures from Pinterest that I pictured while writing this so don’t forget to click on those besties

Warnings: blood, drinking blood, murder, and I wanna say suggestive

Walking through the garden the skirts of my night black gown dragged over the gravel, my hand outstretched to graze over the soft leaves of the maze of rose bushes I'm following. Reaching the center of the garden I take in the vivid colors of the flowers in the sun.

Closing my eyes I lift my head to take in the comforting embrace of the sun one last time. Tonight is my Turning Ceremony. When Eris proposed last month he gave me the choice of joining him for true eternity as a Vampire, or staying as just Fae until I faded into the After World.

I didn’t think Eris would be able to handle my passing after only a thousand years together. And I couldn’t let my love be heartbroken forever.

Deciding to take a reprieve from the sun I head further into the garden where the roses reside. The white roses are my favorite. Along with the white marble and stone gazebo Eris had built for me when I first moved to the castle.

He took me in when my village kicked me out after accusing me of my fathers murder. I wanted to go somewhere that no one would follow. There had been rumors about the castle on the edge of the dark wood. People were terrified of the place, not even looking in its direction if they could help it. But not me. I had come up with my own stories about the dark castle as a girl. So that’s where I went.

Mine and Eris’s relationship took time. But it was well worth the wait. The King shows me nothing but love and kindness.

I stop and smell the roses. They look so lovely, reflecting the sun's bright rays. I suppose the next time I see them they will look more gray. I have no problem giving up the day time. I was always more of a night owl anyways. My parents constantly struggled to get me to go to sleep at a proper time.

Sitting, I close my eyes again and listen to the creatures of the day. I smile to myself at the buzz of the bees, the rabbits rushing through the brush, and the birds calling to each other. Letting my unbound hair rest behind my shoulders, letting the warm breeze wash over me. Days feel busy but peaceful. It’ll be nice to sit out here at night with Eris. In a quieter peace.

A male behind me clears his throat, one of the Fae day servants. I turn to look at the male over my shoulder with a small smile, “Francis, how are you?” He returns your smile, “Well my lady. And you? Your big evening is coming up.”

“Excited. I just want it to go well. For Eris’s sake.” Francis nods in agreement. “Speaking of the King, he requests your presence in his study.” I stand and let Francis lead me back through the garden and through the iron gate back to the castle grounds.

—

When we reach the doors to Eris’s study Francis stands to the side, letting me take it from here. Knocking on the door I hear Eris’s gruff voice tell me to come in. He must be concentrating on something.

I gently swing the door open and close it quickly. The grand chandelier and candles are the only light source in the room. I notice Eris has the heavy, dark velvet curtains pulled tight against the windows, not wanting to let a sliver of daylight in.

Eris’s study is one of my favorite rooms in the whole castle. It just feels so…him. He has items from things he is interested in scattered amongst the shelves, maps from ages ago, books that look like they would turn to dust if you held them.

The sofas were quite comfortable as well. When I first started getting to know Eris, and was comfortable being around him alone, we spent many nights here just talking. Enjoying a drink or two until one of us would call it a night. Or a day in his case. Mine soon.

I step up the raised platform where his desk sits and stand next to him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Eris perks up and smiles at me. He takes my hand from its resting place and places soft kisses all over the back of it. “My sweet, how are you feeling today?”

“Happy, my love.” Eris’s smile widens at my words. He was overjoyed when I told him I would turn for him. I don’t think I had seen that much emotion from him. Eris hadn’t stopped showing me that joy.

Eris pushed his chair back, patting one of his muscular thighs for me to sit on. I drape my arms around his shoulders and sit, resting my head on his chest. “Are you nervous at all?” I adjust my neck to look up at him and start to play with the ends of his long auburn hair that’s tied back today. “A little. I just want everything to be perfect is all.”

Eris hums. “It will be my sweet. I will be there with you every step of the way.” Eris brings his hand to cup the back of my neck. His thumb brushed over the small puncture scars from his fangs when he marked me as his. I shiver at the touch.

“Thank you, Eris.” He kisses the top of my head and stands, placing me on the ground as well.

Cupping my face with both hands he stares deeply into my eyes. “I love you so much, y/n. I don’t say this enough, but you have made me the happiest male in the whole world. And I’m so happy it is you who will be by my side forever.”

I feel tears prick at my eyes as Eris rests his forehead against mine. “Oh Eris, you make me so happy too.” I rise up on my toes and connect my lips to his in a short but passionate kiss. It pained me to pull apart from him but I must get ready for tonight. The party will start immediately after sundown and the other lords are already on their way.

“I have to go, my love. I’ll see you later.” Eris gives me one last parting kiss after walking me to the doors. As I walk down the hall towards my chambers I wring my hands to get out my nerves. Tonight would be perfect. And everything will be fine.

—

Ophelia finished pinning my hair up in a soft, romantic bun with a few strands of hair left loose in my face. When she moved away I turned to check my dress one last time. Staring straight at my reflection I smooth down my red silky dress.

“It’s time my lady.” Ophelia said in a sing-song voice. She holds my door open for me and I float out into the hall.

As I get closer to the ballroom the chattering of our guests gets louder and louder. I stop behind the closed double doors and wait to announced.

I take one last deep breath before putting a stoic look on my face. To show that I’m ready and willing to take this next step.

Eris’s lead advisor announces my arrival and the doors open. Revealing the crowd parted down the middle of the room. Eris’s throne has been moved in here for the occasion. He sits at the end of the makeshift aisle. A long blood-red carpet separating us.

He looks otherworldly in his white suit. The gold embellishments glinting in the candle light that surrounds him. Eris smiles at me, beckoning me forward. Giving me a look that says, you don’t need to worry my sweet it’s just you and me.

I take a step, then another and another. Remembering to pace myself. To not look too eager or too hesitant.

I finally reach Eris with a stupid grin plastered on my face. All stoicism melting away. Before I could kneel at his feet and expose my neck to him he stood.

There were scattered murmurs among the crowd. I couldn’t be bothered to worry about what anyone was saying. Not when Eris is holding my chin between his fingers and looking at me like I’m the only person in the room. “Remember,” he whispers, “I’m here every step of the way.”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Ready?” “Ready.”

Eris turns me to the crowd. As he gives his speech about this being the first Turning Ceremony in two hundred years and he’s glad to give the lords and his subjects to celebrate, I look around the room. I take in the vampire lords for the first time. They’re all so different. I’ll have to ask Eris more about the different courts if I’m to be his queen soon.

As Eris finishes his speech and my attention is brought back to him. He leans down to whisper in my ear. “You smell divine, my sweet. Sinking my fangs into you this evening will be even better than before.” Eris noses down my neck, taking in my scent.

He stops right at my puncture scar and licks. I start getting impatient and push my neck subtly at his mouth. He lets out a breathy chuckle that tickles my skin. “Someone’s eager.” You tsk at him. “Close your eyes and breathe.”

I do as he says in anticipation of the feeling of his fangs sinking into me. After a few more seconds that euphoric pain spreads through me. The intimate scene taking place in front of everyone causing my cheeks to have a pink tint. I bite my lip to hold my moans back.

Eris sucks and sucks and I feel something else. This pain is different than when Eris usually feeds on me. This was the venom Eris prepared me for. It was excruciating. My skin feels tight and clammy. My brain going fuzzy. I feel my canines expand and become sharper.

Eris releases me, wiping at the blood still trickling from my neck.

I can already feel the venom affecting me. Changing my needs and instincts. My mouth feels dry and my tongue heavy. Like a lump of sand I can’t swallow in the middle of my mouth. The mingling of different scents overwhelms me.

Before I know it Eris is sitting me on his throne and snapping at two guards off to the side of the room.

They bring in a Fae female dressed in simple dark robes and force her to her knees at my feet. She looks up at me, closes her eyes, and tilts her neck for me. She must be one of the many Children of the Blessed who sacrifice themselves for these rare rituals.

“For you, my sweet.” Eris says, his voice echoing around the still silent room. I can practically hear everyone holding their breath in anticipation. “Drain her and complete your Turning.” Eris backs away to stand with the court Lords.

I don’t need to be told twice. I grab the female on both sides of her face. I yank her towards me with my new found strength and lean down to sniff her neck. Just like Eris did to me. Her blood is the best thing I’ve smelt in my whole life. Better than any dessert or meal. Better than my favorite white roses.

Without a second thought I bite down into her supple skin and drink like I’m new to the world. The nameless female I drink from occasionally screams from the pain I’m inflicting on her. In the haze of my feeding I’m sure I tried to tell her to be quiet.

Once I feel her go limp I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until she’s dry. Not until I’m satisfied.

I can taste the last of her blood coming up. It reminds me of the last of the liquid left in a teapot. I detach myself from her, letting her body fall to the floor. Blood dribbles down my chin and onto my exposed chest. Looking up I search for Eris.

Eris was staring at me with piercing, wild eyes. The corners of his pale lips upturned in a wicked grin. He was looking at me like he had never seen something so beautiful. The sight of me covered in blood, committing myself even further to him brought him joy.

I started to wipe the female's blood from my chin, smearing it on my hands. Eris was before me in an instant. His pale slender hand wrapped around my wrist bringing my hand to his mouth to lick. To taste what my first drink tasted like.

A low growl came from his chest as his eyes closed. I fell forward, still a little weak from the venom and feeding for the first time. My bloody hands leave marks on his crisp white jacket.

Cheers erupt around us. Our guests ecstatic to have a new vampire in their midst. I smile up at my stunning fiancé. The love of my life. My King. I feel like I’m seeing him in a whole new light. Like he’s brighter, more clear.

My smile shows off my fangs and the blood coating my teeth. “Hi.” I whisper at him. The party was in full swing now. Our guests back to chatting and enjoying the music.

“Hello, my sweet.” Eris thumbs at the sharpness of one of my fangs. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice smooth and deep.

“Shall we join the party?” He shakes his head a little, “Not yet. I want to admire you like this for a bit longer.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #erisweek2023 #eris vanserra fic #eris acotar #acotar eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar x reader

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wingedblooms · 3 months

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Bright as the dawn

This meta is a continuation of Forbidden secrets and Blooming dreams, as it explores how Elain—glowing with the dawn—might restore the land and Cauldron, and has major spoilers for hofas. Please avoid if needed.

Long ago, Wyrd (Mother/Cauldron/Fate/Chaos) was once bound to the soul of Prythian’s world. She was pure, undiluted life until she was warped into a tool of destruction by the Asteri, imbued with their magic through, theoretically, the Void in the Book of Breathings. They claimed the magic of the land (most likely using ley lines, which seem to be the threads or veins of the land’s soul) to hide magic that would sustain them, much like how the Starborn daughters hid pieces of magic in the land where the ley lines—the fabric of the world—wove together, overlapping like a braid in a larger tapestry.

As we saw in the prophetic weaver scene with Feyre and Elain in acofas, iridescent light—embodying Hope—is the only light that can pierce the Void. We may see Elain and Azriel wield these elements through Truth-Teller and Gwydion to unmake the Asteri’s magical chains on the land and/or Wyrd, but I have also wondered if Elain herself, or in combination with someone else’s raw magic as @offtorivendell so beautifully wrote in her Dusk meta, could heal and unheal, make and unmake.

If Elain and Azriel address the land and Wyrd plot Sarah has set up, then I could see them mapping the secrets of the land and releasing the sacred peaks first, which might affect what many of us suspect is Elain’s pure, natural magic that mirrors the Wyrd and her land: Life itself. These challenges may help her level up as @willowmeres has suggested, and will teach her what she needs to know to unbind and restore Wyrd, which is likely to be more complex.

Wyrd was imbued with the Asteri’s magic, which in discussion with @silverlinedeyes, @psychee92, @cassianfanclub, @offtorivendell, and @psychologynerd at different points, reminded me of how the Valg imbued objects with their essence, and their essence was often described as a void.

It was a void. It was a new, dark hell.

Her magic had been a pulsing star that flared against the wall that the darkness had crafted between the top of his spine and the rest of it. She knew—knew without testing—that if she bypassed it, jumped right to the base of his spine … it would find her there, too. (tod)

The Asteri, like the Valg, devour light (life) like the Void in that weaver’s tapestry. It’s probably no coincidence that the Book of Breathings is made of two halves: Chaos and Void. Void may have very well been added by the Asteri to control the magic they imbued in Urd, and what was left behind might even be feeding off of the living half, Chaos (Wyrd). It may not be a matter of solely unbinding the two halves of the book.

Some wounds—like those inflicted by creatures of the Void—require the healer to walk the road with the patient.

If she could even find a way to help him. She’d promised to heal him, and though some injuries required the healer to walk the road with their patient, this injury of his— (tod)

Yrene learns how to destroy the Void by walking this road with Chaol, and I imagine something similar will be required of Elain. Yrene must tread where she fears to go most. In each big healing scene, she travels to the very core—or root—of the wound and uses her pure, undiluted powers of life to unbind her patient from the Valg and unmake the rotting void within them. She connects with them in body and soul, just like Elain might with Wyrd through her sight. Elain will also likely need to tread where she fears most to go, descending into Wyrd (magically and/or physically) to where the dark void festers.

And since this is no small feat, I imagine it rivaling the unmaking of Erawan:

Erawan panted as he approached. “Healer,” he breathed, his unholy power emanating from him like a black aura.

She backed away a step, closer to the balcony rail.

The dark king followed her, a predator closing in on long-awaited prey. “Do you know how long I have looked for you?” The wind tossed his golden hair.

“Do you even know what you can do?”

She hesitated, slamming into the balcony rail behind her, the drop so hideously endless.

“How do you think we took the keys in the first place?” A hateful, horrible smile. “In my world, your kind exists, too. Not healers to us, but executioners. Death-maidens. Capable of healing—but also unhealing. Unbinding the very fabric of life. Of worlds.” Erawan smirked. “So we took your kind. Used them to unbind the Wyrdgate. To rip the three pieces of it from its very essence. Maeve never learned it—and never shall.” His jagged breathing deepened as he savored each word, each step closer. “It took all of them to hew the keys from the gate—every one of the healers amongst my kind. But you, with your gifts—it would only take you to do it again. And with the keys now returned to the gate …” Another smile. “Maeve thinks I left to kill you, destroy you. Your little fire-queen thought so, too. She could not conceive that I wanted to find you. Before Maeve. Before any harm could come to you. And now that I have … What fun you and I shall have, Yrene Towers.”

Erawan reveals that Yrene, as a healer with raw magic, can unbind the very fabric of life, of worlds. If Elain was given the vision and gifts (such powers) to restore the land and Wyrd, as many of us suspect, she is going to need to unmake the magic of the parasite Asteri and unbind Urd from the soul, or fabric, of the world.

[…] Erawan’s power swelled, but Yrene was already glowing, bright as the far-off dawn.

Lysandra opened her talons, delicately dropping Yrene to the balcony stones, light streaming off her as she sprinted headfirst to Erawan.

[…]

Erawan screamed. But the sound was nothing compared to what came out of him as Yrene reached him, hands like burning stars, and slammed them upon his chest.

The world slowed and warped.

Yet Yrene was not afraid.

Not afraid at all of the blinding white light that erupted from her, searing into Erawan.

He arched, shrieking, but Damaris held him down, that ancient blade unwavering.

His dark power rose, a wave to devour the world.

[…]

Yrene did not let it touch her. Touch any of them.

Hope.

It was hope that Chaol had said she carried with her. Hope that now grew in her womb.

For a better future. For a free world.

[…]

The gods might have been gone, Silba with them, but Yrene could have sworn she felt those warm, gentle hands guiding her. Pushing upon Erawan’s chest as he thrashed, the force of a thousand dark suns trying to rip her apart.

Her power tore through them all.

Tore and shredded and ripped into him, into the writhing worm that lay inside.

The parasite. The infection that fed on life, on strength, on joy.

Distantly, far away, Yrene knew she was incandescent with light, brighter than a noontime sun. Knew that the dark king beneath her was nothing more than a writhing pit of snakes, biting at her, trying to poison her light.

You have no power over me, Yrene said to him. Into the body that housed that parasite of parasites.

I shall rip you apart, he hissed. Starting with that babe in your—

A thought and Yrene’s power flared brighter. Erawan screamed.

The power of creation and destruction. That’s what lay within her.

Life-Giver. World-Maker.

Bit by bit, she burned him up. Starting at his limbs, working inward.

Yrene glows bright as the far-off dawn, which reminded me of Elain glowing like the sun at dawn when her hair is unbound. This very subtle detail is one of many that might make Elain’s journey unique—her gifts seem to be deeply connected, or bound if you will, to both the land and Wyrd. I believe her journey might mirror the unbinding of the land and Wyrd: her powers fully blooming as the land does around her, and a bond she does not want unmade by the end. She is bound to Lucien against her will, just as he is to her, so will she unbind them by unraveling Urd’s unnatural chains? Will she feel a bond that is true in spirit at her core, or will she need to make her own with Azriel? A maker of her own fate. There are so many interesting possibilities that could be explored in their book.

And like the near-twin to her sister, Elain might possess pure, undiluted life like Yrene, allowing her to tear out void like the invasive presence it is.

And when her magic began to slow, Yrene held out a hand.

She didn’t feel the sting of her palm cutting open. Barely felt the pressure of the callused hand that linked with hers.

But when Dorian Havilliard’s raw magic barreled into her, Yrene gasped.

Gasped and turned into starlight, into warmth and strength and joy.

[…]

Yrene’s power was life itself. Pure, undiluted life. It nearly brought Dorian to his knees as it met with his own. As he handed over his power to her, willingly and gladly, Erawan prostrate before them. Impaled.

The demon king screamed.

[…]

Erawan could do nothing. Nothing against that raw magic, joining with Yrene’s, weaving into that world-making power.

The entire city, the plain, became blindingly bright. So bright that Elide and Lysandra shielded their eyes. Even Dorian shut his.

But Yrene saw it then. What lay at Erawan’s core.

The twisted, hateful creature inside. Old and seething, pale as death. Pale, from an eternity in darkness so complete it had never seen sunlight.

Had never seen her light, which now scalded his moon-white, ancient flesh.

Erawan writhed, contorting on the ground of whatever this place was inside him.

Pathetic, Yrene simply said.

[…]

And it was with the image of her mother still shining before him, showing him that mistake he’d never known he made, that Yrene clenched her fingers into a fist.

Erawan screamed.

Yrene’s fingers clenched tighter, and distantly, she felt her physical hand doing the same. Felt the sting of her nails cutting into her palms.

She did not listen to Erawan’s pleas. His threats.

She only tightened her fist. More and more.

Until he was nothing but a dark flame within it.

Until she squeezed her fist, one final time, and that dark flame snuffed out.

Yrene had the feeling of falling, of tumbling back into herself. And she was indeed falling, rocking back into Lysandra’s furry body, her hand slipping from Dorian’s. (koa)

When she is done, Yrene falls, tumbles back into herself like someone with the gift of sight. Elain’s sight is probably more extensive, but I think it’ll look very similar—part of her there, part of her deep within Wyrd (the Cauldron). And even with the vision and gifts Urd gave her, Elain will probably need help. Will she combine her raw magic with Azriel, like Yrene does with Dorian? Or her sisters like @silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I (as well as others I’m sure) have discussed? Or even in some kind of dawn ritual where priestesses, like healers, create a living chain of blooming life to ground and amplify her magic? I don’t know what I would love more, honestly.

Once the magic of the Asteri is unmade and Wyrd is unbound, I hope there is a scene where we finally see the goddess through Elain’s eyes, and Elain—like the calm and loving and resilient stag in this Fantasia sequence—reaches out her hand, lifts her up and out of the place that once chained her to the Void, and lets her power, pure and natural, flow through her before it rushes into the soul of the land, which can now rejoice with her freely.

#hofas spoilers #elain archeron #healer of the land and urd #mother cauldron fate #stone mother #bright as the dawn #her journey mirrors the land and goddess #mother incarnate #elriel #elain x azriel #archeron sisters #prythian priestesses #living chain of life

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redbleedingrose · 5 months

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i think eris collects fancy wine and lucien has a lot of old maps what do u think

Oh, I have been waiting all DAY for someone to send me an ask about my favorite Vanserra bro’s! I am so excited tehehhe!!

Hobbies for the Vanserra Bro’s

Eris Vanserra

Okay, starting with the love of my LIFE!!!

He is a master of all trades tbh. He has so many hobbies, especially once Beron goes bye bye LMAO. He has so much more free time, he was already practically running the Autumn Court, even when Beron was alive. But now, without the added stress of his father, he is trying to explore all different avenues for hobbies, especially when you can join him.

He absolutely collects fancy wines. I think Er is a collector in general. He likes collecting wines that you both can share after a long day of hard work, he likes to collect unique and rare editions of his favorite books that he can display in the library he built for you, he likes collecting rocks and geodes and seashells that he will use as decorations in Marwa and Twila’s nursery. When they are born, Eris becomes a collector of all things for his favorite babes. He collects dresses and jewelry that they will use when they are older, he loves collecting shoes and handbags for them. Eventually, a new wing to your home is added just so he can store all of things he has collected over the years for them that they have unlimited access to. I also think Er would collect children’s stories and books for them, he loves encouraging them to learn and grow into smart, young ladies. He absolutely expands the library for them, creating a little play space for them along with hundreds, if not thousands of books that all belong to them.

I also think Eris would become involved with creating DV shelters. He would absolutely love being involved in foundations and charities that specialize in helping women get away from their ab*sers, and building a new life for themselves. He has created a whole new job sector for these women, and often finds himself visiting these shelters so that he can help the older ladies running the home cook and clean. You can picture him in his apron, scrubbing away at the tile with furrowed brows trying to get the grout out. He would also bring his pups to the shelters so that they can play with the ladies and the children.

While Beron was alive, he did have a secret hobby that only you know of. One that you and him will take to the grave. One that was the reason for your first oathe to him, the reason that you have a tattoo that matches his on your left forearm.

Tehe.

You know those smutty books that Nesta reads?

Yeah…… He ghost wrote those.

Don’t ask questions, but he did.

The poor male had to express himself and his desire for you somehow.

Anyway, only you and him know that he is Prythian’s best selling romance author. And thats the way its going to stay.

That secret follows you both to the grave.

Oh and Eris is for sure an animals rights activist. He loves his horses and his pups so much, even though he will never admit it, but he has spent a lot of time creating laws that provide protections for endangered species and animal rights in general. He has limited hunting grounds in Autumn Court to allow for safe areas for animas to roam and exist freely. He absolutely tries to convince you to move onto a farm with him. He wants so many animals on that farm, he wants pigs and goats, dogs and cats, horses and cows. He also really loves the idea of having chickens.

One day you will give in from his incessant begging.

Not today, but one day.

Lucien Vanserra

Lucien is also a collector, just like his older brother. He absolutely collects old maps. He also collects coins that he finds on the ground, claiming they are lucky, and he also collects stamps from different courts, using them to depict his travels and act as an homage to his journey through life that lead to finding you. I think Loosh also collects art and pottery, and I know he himself, has dipped into the talent of pottery as a hobby. Even if all of his vases are a little crooked and his mugs are kinda cracked and a janky orange color.

He tries his very best, and thats all that matters to you.

So you will absolutely display his crooked vases in your home, and use his janky orange mugs, even if he glares at you while your coffee leaks in dribbles onto the floor and you smirk at him over the rim of the mug and you wiggle your eyebrows as you “cheers” him. Because you are a loving, good mate who displays your mates talent of course.

Even if it is just to make fun of him

But I also think he is a nature freak. He loves cultivating and collecting rare herbs and plants that he can grow in Day Court. He loves using those herbs and plants to create herbal remedies. He is a big naturalist. I think before you accepted him as your mate, he spent a lot of time in the Day Court libraries trying to get his mind off of you and he did that by studying old medicine. He studied different healing techniques and herbs that he could use to create medicinal potions. Over time, it grew into collecting these herbs and creating these potions for those who are sick, especially the elderly where he ended up donating a lot of his creations.

He also loves going fishing, he could spend hours in the ocean or in a lake or river swimming and fishing. He always releases them back into the wild, but I think there is something he finds peaceful about being in nature and being able to use nature in different ways. He loves going on hikes with you, and he absolutely is a camping nerd. His first holiday with you included going no-contact with every other person he knows for a week and spending that week in nature with you. He taught you different ways to find fresh water, and he would catch fish and cook them for you over the fire he stoked. At some point, he became really really good at cooking outdoors and was creating meals that are almost impossible for the most experienced chefs to make out door using nature.

Anyway, it was fun, and while it may not be your cup of tea for every vacation you take, you will go with him on this camping trip at least once a year to get away from society and spend time with your favorite male.

But!!! This does spark an idea for Lucien.

He loves to take young children out into nature to teach them about it, teaching them how to fish and how to survive in the outdoors just for fun. So he creates a little group of 5-10 year old children similar to Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, encouraging all children to join him as he takes them out into nature. He teaches them how to swim, and how to tie sailors knots, and how to safely make s’mores. The children of Day Court look forward to it all year, excited to spend one on one time with their high lord who teaches them so many things, who is so kind to them, who is so funny and cool to hang out with. Story time in front of a campfire slaps for those kids. Eventually, when your children grow of age, he brings them with him, giving you a whole week for yourself to rejuvenate and vacation in peace.

With that being said, Lucien does take action similar to his brother. He creates national parks and conservation areas to protect nature. It is something that he finds incredibly important and he knows that one day, his children and grandchildren, and future generations as well, will appreciate his efforts to protect the world. He goes as far as convincing other courts to join his efforts as well, expanding protected areas.

Masterlist

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velidewrites · 4 months

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Don’t Look Back

Five hundred years ago, the humans fought hard for their freedom in the Great War and won. Now, their former masters seek retribution in a rebellion that grows stronger year by year. When Elain Archeron finds out marrying Greysen Nolan might be the only solution to keep her family safe from the ancient, cruel Fae, she doesn't hesitate to fulfil her duty. What Elain doesn't know, though, is that the man with the fiery hair and russet eyes is not her fiancé, but his killer—and when she finally finds out, well…it will be far too late to turn back.

Rating: Explicit

Notes: Happy Holidays @rainbowdolphinrealm! I absolutely loved being your Secret Santa for the @acotargiftexchange and getting to know you over the past few weeks! My little elf has told me there may be some Azris angst in the background, and a surprise Azris treat is also sleighing your way soon 👀

Read on AO3 or continue for Chapter 1 below!

*Please note that for reasons beyond my control (insanity) I have given this fic way too much lore. Here is a map I've drawn!

Chapter 1: The Visitor

Elain had never thought she would be dreading the spring. It was the season her gardens bloomed, the season that melted the lakes around the manor to reflect the fluffy clouds dotting the sky above. The flowers she’d planted over the harvest would sprout to life, their sleepy buds erupting into colours Elain would dream of all winter. Two years ago, her father had gifted her the most extraordinary tulips for her birthday, the intricate paintings over the pack of seeds promising shades of violet she’d never seen in New Prythian. He’d brought them right from the fields of the Montesere province far on the Continent with a vow to bring her along on his travels next year—so that she could see their beauty for herself.

Her mother died the spring after.

Father had gone anyway, but Elain—Elain stayed. She had lost all desire to travel, anyway, especially when the circumstances of the death had hardly been expected. The Continent had assured them the Fae rebellion was not a threat to be taken seriously, and that the Governor had everything under control. Out of the eight human clans looking after their world, Lord Nolan had perhaps been the only one Elain would put her trust in. If he claimed the scattered remains of the faeries of old were entirely harmless, then it must have been the truth.

Until a small group of them had broken into the Merchant’s manor and killed his wife in her sleep, with magic so corrupted and vile that not even a speck of blood had left a stain on her sheets. One moment, she was deep in a peaceful slumber, and the next, she was simply…gone.

Everything had happened very quickly after that. Orders had come in from wherever Father had sailed off to, and the manor had been fortified with ash-dipped iron from Vallahan—made by the Forge himself—and spells Father had acquired from his trades with the North. All entirely legal and ratified by the Governor—according to Father, at least. Elain knew better than to ever question the Merchant.

The manor, though fortified to the teeth, had not been enough to keep Elain or either of her sisters safe. The very last order came in with the Merchant himself, a rare smile on their father’s deep-creased face as he announced it to his daughters. Elain had never seen Nesta so horrified as her older sister had been in that moment—pale as the moon, whiter than the sheets their mother had died in. For Nesta Archeron, the eldest daughter of the feared Merchant of New Prythian, was to marry.

Somewhere along his usual search for old faerie artifacts, abandoned over the centuries after the Great War, Father had found his way into an alliance that would secure his territory’s position on the island. With Nesta’s marriage, there would be no Fae slipping past his borders, no other clan opposing him—no human ruler to ever deny him whatever faerie secrets they’d been holding in their keep. It was an alliance that rattled the seas all the way to the Governor’s seat in Rask—perhaps even crooked the crown on his greying head an inch.

Nesta, after all, had been promised to none other than Tomas Mandray. To the son of the Harvester.

Every human territory had a role to play in the new world order—after the Great War, order seemed to be exactly what the humans needed. Their freedom, won by bloodshed and sacrifice, broke them free as slaves of the Fae. Elain still dreamed of the horrid images her governess’s books taught her—of humans in chains, gleaming with white-hot magic, burning spells into their skin that made any chance of escape nearly impossible. Had it not been for the courage of the six ruling queens, all hope would have been lost. Five hundred years later, it would have been Elain in those chains, her sisters, her Father, even the all-powerful Governor. Even the Harvester.

His territory—the dark, somber island of Hybern—was one Elain would never so much as think of travelling to. Pretending the work the Harvester did there did not exist made everyone’s lives a lot easier. While the Merchant dealt with old Fae artifacts and traded them across borders, the Harvester’s work involved a lot more of getting one’s hands dirty. Enchanted faerie objects, after all, were not the only things believed to have valuable properties. High Fae hearts, for example, promised a long life, untainted by illness.

And the Harvester…well, the Harvester delivered them. Amongst many others.

The marriage had taken place shortly after the summer, and neither Elain nor her father had been invited to witness the nuptials. She had simply watched the ship sail off West as she lost yet another sister.

She would not think about that right now—not when spring had finally arrived again. Soon, her tulips would bloom again, flecks of pinks and violets shining softly under the young, shy rays of sunlight. Elain would not be there to witness it—right after Nesta’s marriage, Father had left for the Continent again, and this time, Elain expected the order.

She was to be married next.

My dearest Elain,

It is with a full heart that I bring you the joyous news of our latest triumph. I have successfully docked in Saetre, and the Governor has received me warmly—as expected. As I’m sure you have already guessed, he was most pleased with the offerings I have bestowed him. You’ve seen them yourself—the old Illyrian dagger seems to be his favourite as of right now, though I have not yet even shown him the rest of the treasure I have acquired from the Wildlands. I can already imagine his eyes light up as I hand him the pair of wings your sister had sent in from Hybern. I shall convince him to display it right above his throne, I think—a testament to Nesta’s success.

Our deliberations commenced shortly after dinner—a roast turkey and the most exquisite stew, if you’re interested. I have already sent a footman along with a separate letter containing the recipe—so that you may have the maid try it out in the weeks before my return. Winters in Rask are quite unforgivable, and I must admit a hearty meal like this was exactly what I needed. Rask rears its own livestock, you know—an impressive one, too, if I do say so myself. To not be dependent on Braemar for your dinner plans—imagine that! I am growing quite tired of the Huntsman raising his prices every harvest. Ridiculous.

Anyway, I digress. Rask has consumed my attention entirely, as I’m sure you can tell. I am confident you would enjoy it here, too. Winters are rough, yes—but I remember how much you’ve always wanted to visit the provinces in the West. Just imagine your beloved tulip fields, illuminated by golden sunlight—imagine being able to see them at your whim. What a life that would be, would it not?

My sweet Elain, I am writing to tell you that it could be. You know how dear our family has always been to me—but you, my beautiful daughter, have always been closest to my ageing heart. It is precisely why I had devoted all my efforts, all my resources, into this agreement. Elain, it is one for the pages of history. A union like no other.

You see, the Governor—Lord Nolan, our very ruler himself—was so impressed with your dowry, and concerned with the fate of our family in the past year—that he had offered his son, nay, his heir, as a candidate worthy of your hand. Your hand in marriage, Elain.

Indeed, the past year has brought our family hardship unlike ever before. I do mourn your mother still, and the loss of our young Feyre continues to be a fresh wound in my heart. It is only fair we honour them, would you not agree? Your sister, your brave, headstrong sister, has already taken that first step—and look how happy she is with the Harvester’s son. She holds power like no other human in our family ever had—right now, she is perhaps the most powerful woman in Prythian. Perhaps even more than the Siren herself. Elain, with your beauty, your grace, your heart—you could outshine them both.

I am sure you were too young to remember meeting Greysen Nolan—you were only five, after all, and he only twelve—but he has grown into a fine young man, and as heir to the Governor, he is the most eligible bachelor our world has to offer. A fine marriage like this would give us the protection we need—New Prythian would never have to deal with faerie filth again. Our people would be safe, Elain—and all because of you. My beautiful Princess.

I do hope this news brings some comfort to your healing heart. Lord Nolan has bestowed his son with a title prior to your official engagement. The Visitor, as your fiancé is now called, has taken on the role of supervising all clans and their work—of ensuring their role in our world guarantees our continued survival amid the growing rebellions in Old Prythian and Vallahan. Elain, as wife to the Visitor, your dream will finally come true—you shall accompany him on all his travels, see the world as you’ve always wished! It brings me joy to know I have assured you that fate.

I am to remain in Rask until the snow melts. The Visitor and I shall set sail for home with the coming of spring, and we shall host a celebration in your honour. An engagement ball envied in the eyes of any other young lady in Prythian, New and Old!

I am told Greysen (is it too soon to address him as such, do you think? He is to be my son-in-law) enjoys roses the most. Perhaps you could show some thought and consideration and embroider a pattern on your ball gown? I trust that this letter gives you enough time in advance. You’ve always been so skilled at crafts and other projects of creative character.

Be safe, my sweet Elain. Better times are coming—and sooner than you think!

With love,

The Merchant

Elain discarded the letter on her nightstand, thinking she might puke if she so much as tried glancing upon it again. From the neat, elegant cursive to the tone of the very words, the message reeked of her Father—of the Merchant . There were so many things wrong with its contents that the anger she’d been stifling in the pit of her stomach for the past few weeks had bubbled all over again, threatening to burn its way up her throat. Elain had never been any good at art—that was Feyre, the Merchant’s other daughter the Fae had only taken a few months ago. Taken and never returned. She was likely dead, her body discarded somewhere in the Wildlands. And Father didn’t even care.

He didn’t care that it was him Elain had always wanted to travel with, not Greysen Nolan, not anyone else. He’d promised to bring her along, at least once. Now, it was too late. He would lose his final daughter—for the safety of New Prythian. Naturally.

A new wave of guilt crashed into her with a sudden force, killing the fire inside her with little effort. She didn’t want the marriage, that much was true—but, her father’s personal agenda or not, the Fae rebellion was as real as the Visitor, no doubt already sailing her way. The Fae, though very few in number thanks to the work of the human clans, still posed a very real threat—her mother and sister were the prime example of how dangerous those creatures were. Five hundred years ago, they’d nearly won the War—had nearly rid the world of all humans and enslaved whoever remained. Until the humans turned their own magic against them—and took their freedom back. They have continued to preserve it ever since.

The clans of Old Prythian had always been successful in dwindling the numbers of whoever remained—the Fae, in all their mighty immortality, could hold out for centuries, using their magic to roam the lands in secret. Three hundred years ago, most of them had been pushed far north to the Wildlands, old faerie territories Elain had read about in her studies. There was little information on the former Solar Courts and their rulers—other than that the most powerful of them had a history of cruelty that could make the Harvester himself flinch in horror. Some part of her was glad the territory had been reduced to rubble—that, at the very least, the humans’ ancient killers could no longer rely on their fortresses to lock them all up.

She had seen the Huntsman’s reports on recent rebel activity in Braemar, though. The faeries may have been few, yes, but those foolish enough to crawl out of the Wildlands caused problems that would usually send shivers down Elain’s spine. The Huntsman’s own daughter, stationed in the North under the Guardian’s protection, had been slaughtered no more than six years ago when their outpost was attacked. Father had told her stories of fresh, crimson blood, gleaming on the thick, white coat of snow.

For what had to have been the hundredth time in the past few weeks, Elain debated that perhaps, an alliance with the Governor’s son would not be such a terrible thing. She may not have known him—let alone harboured any affection for him—but their marriage would strengthen the clans. If she married Greysen, perhaps no one else’s daughters would be slaughtered, no one else’s mothers killed in their sleep or sisters hunted in the forests surrounding their own homes. Elain could protect them—in whatever way she could.

Either way, she had no choice.

***

The forest rippled with the sound of teeth tearing into flesh. Over the centuries, they had grown longer— sharper , which was just as well. He needed as much protection as he could get these days, especially with weapons so difficult to come by. The camp was already growing unsettled, and he could feel the tension weighing on the air whenever he returned. The past few winters had been difficult enough.

The coming of spring was a welcome change. Spring meant they could hunt—the new year brought on as many animals as it had opportunities. The prey in his arms, grasped by the claws he’d sunk deep into its skin, just so happened to be both.

And what an opportunity it was. They’d been wishing for it for decades—centuries, even, or perhaps even more. Like many others, he found himself losing count of the passing years. They all seemed the same—eat, sleep, move, hide. Kill had only recently started to disrupt his routine. Yet another change he welcomed.

He spat out the blood, nose wrinkling with distaste as if on instinct, and watched as the liquid settled into the mossy earth. The body fell to the ground a moment after, leaving a heavy thud in its wake, heavy enough that he could have sworn it echoed between the trees. He would get an earful for not being careful later. The thought made his eyes roll as he wiped his nails clean on his crumpled shirt.

He pulled it over his arms, then, letting the fabric float away with the gentle spring breeze, and took a deep, steadying breath. The small, golden rays of sunlight peering through the budding leaves warmed his bare chest, and he tilted his head up to the sky, soaking up the sensation until the quiet gurgle at his feet inevitably commanded the return of his attention.

He sighed, kicking away the arm resting on his boot. The body rolled to the side, baring the unpleasant face to his sight yet again. For what must have been the fourth time in the past two minutes, he felt himself grimace. Something so ugly should not have been this finely dressed.

This, however, was a problem he could easily take care of. Holding his breath to avoid the stench of his prey’s spilling guts, he kneeled to free it from the immaculate, navy-blue jacket, dark, charcoal trousers and boots before its blood managed to stain them. The formerly pristine shirt was unfortunately already lost to him, though he supposed his own would do just fine.

For a split second, he wondered if the body should be buried. It would take little effort on his part, and he knew it had been travelling with a party before trailing off the carriage path to piss. It would be best to not leave any evidence behind, lest any of the man’s companions decided to follow their master and look for relief in the forest as well.

He sighed again, a sound he feared was starting to become a signature of his lately. With a flick of his hand, the dirt rustled quietly, and the ground parted, swallowing the body entirely.

Good. This was good. He only wished he’d taken a good look at the man’s face before letting the worms dig into the body he’d so benevolently left open for them. He needed the memory unscathed for the spell, and right now, he could not for the life of him remember the colour of his prey’s eyes. Oh, well.

He got dressed quickly, finding the fabric a little too tight in the shoulders. Come to think of it, the trousers also seemed to be a tight fit, his thighs unusually restrained by the silken threads. He would have to walk more slowly, he supposed. Ripping his seams open in front of dozens of humans was hardly the surprise he’d spent the past two months carefully devising.

Rising to his full height, he closed his eyes then as though for concentration. The tingling on his skin was hardly pleasant, but he endured it all the same until the memory in his mind finally faded away. There was no stream nearby to look over his reflection, but he knew the glamour had worked, anyway. It always did.

To those who knew the man he’d just murdered, he would appear as Greysen Nolan—the newly titled Visitor, hell, the Governor’s own firstborn son. He couldn’t help but smirk.

It seemed that Daddy was in for one hell of a disappointment.

***

Elain could not breathe in her gown.

“Just a few more minutes, Princess,” the seamstress repeated, the sound muffled through the needle she’d clenched between her teeth.

The nickname did little to ease her nerves. The Princess was hardly her official title, but her father insisted the staff—that everyone in New Prythian called his one remaining daughter as such. She used to adore it as a little girl, though upon further reflection, she had no doubt she’d earned a few spoiled brat ’s in those years. Still, the name seemed to have stuck, and, as she always did, Elain felt her cheeks flush furiously in response.

“I’m not a princess, Lavinia,” she reminded the seamstress, trying her best not to make her tone sound too pointed.

The woman scoffed. “You might as well be, Lady Archeron. The Visitor is a titled man, and if that wasn’t enough, he is the Governor’s heir.” She adjusted the ribbons adorning Elain’s sleeve. “Our royalty may be long gone, but everyone knows the throne resides at Rask.”

Elain hummed. “There is a reason we are no longer ruled by six queens. To anoint a new monarchy would be to dishonour their sacrifice.”

The seamstress scrambled quickly, “Of course, Lady Archeron. I only meant—the Governor holds a lot of power in the realm.”

Elain sighed and looked into the mirror. “I suppose that much is true.”

“You don’t seem very excited,” Lavinia remarked, meeting Elain’s gaze in her reflection. “Surely the Visitor is an excellent match?”

“Certainly,” Elain nodded. But excellent was not someone Elain was looking for. She wasn’t looking for anyone, truthfully, and yet here she stood, watching Lavinia touch up her gown for the final time before her engagement ball was to commence. “This is good, I think. You’ve done a wonderful job—as always.”

The seamstress offered her a smile. “Try to be happy, Princess.”

“Of course,” Elain lied.

It was clear enough that Lavinia had left her alone, quietly excusing herself out of the room. Elain could hear her mutter instructions to the guards at her door—she was to be escorted downstairs, whenever she was ready. Apparently, guests had already begun pouring in, and the Visitor was to make his grand entrance shortly.

Elain hadn’t even seen Father yet. Wherever he was, he clearly would make his appearance once the public had gathered in full.

It was to be expected, but Elain felt her heart sink nonetheless. She could use a few words of encouragement right now. Usually, it had been Feyre offering them without Elain even having to ask. But Feyre was gone. Had been gone for a while.

And she wasn’t coming back.

Exhaling shakily, Elain looked into her own eyes in the mirror, ignoring the tear welling up in one corner, her expression stern.

“You’re doing this for them ,” she told herself. “For Feyre, and for Mother, and for Nesta, so that no one else has to suffer like they had.”

Her reflection nodded, the pearls in her ears sparkling with the movement. She breathed out again, one last time, and braced herself for the three quiet knocks on her door.

“It’s time, Princess,” the order sounded shortly after. Elain, of course, obeyed.

The gown was a pain to walk in. It was beautiful, to be sure—she hadn’t lied when she’d complimented Lavinia’s work—though that hardly made it a comfortable garment to wear. Elain appreciated the way the corset hugged her curves, or the way it perked up her breasts, but she also appreciated being able to take a breath without immediately choking on it. She had never squeezed into a dress so impossibly tight. The flowers—roses—crafted by the ruffles of tulle rested attached at her hips, the ribbons of her sleeves caressing them as Elain made her way down the hall. The gown spilled down her body in petals of ivory and a dusty pink, making Elain herself look like a blossoming rose, floating with every step.

She almost enjoyed the thought until she remembered Father’s letter once again—until she remembered Greysen Nolan’s favourite flowers were, in fact, roses, and the gown’s very design served to appeal to his tastes instead of her own.

Had it not been for the guard’s heavy boots sounding behind her, Elain would have entertained the idea of turning back. Would Father drag her downstairs himself? Would he lock her up in Greysen’s carriage and ship her off without second thought? Elain had never once thought her own engagement ceremony would ever feel like an execution. And yet, here she was, followed closely by the Merchant’s personal guard, dressed up like a doll for a man she didn’t even know.

The somber thought accompanied her down the marble steps spiralling down to the ballroom, consuming her so thoroughly she could hardly feel the countless stares watching her every more. Father must have invited more people than she’d thought—dignitaries from all over the island, perhaps even the Continent itself.

Perhaps her seamstress was right—perhaps Rask was the closest they could get to royalty, and Elain truly could not have found a more advantageous match. She also could not have married at all.

But then she met her father’s gaze, and the guilt hit her with a familiarity that nearly swayed her off the stairs.

His eyes—brown, exactly the shade of her own—were shining with pride so unabashed she could not help but smile in his direction. She was doing all of this for him, too was she not? For her family—so that they may never see misfortune again. Nesta had been strong enough to proceed with her own match. Why should Elain be any different? She could do this—otherwise, watching that pride dim from her father’s gaze might just be the thing that killed her.

Slowly, she made her way up the dais to meet his extended hand. Behind them, two high chairs she supposed had been made to resemble thrones sat waiting for the Lord and Lady to be. Elain’s heart quickened in the constraints of her corset.

“This is real, Elain,” Father murmured over her shoulder, as though he could hear how loudly her heart thumped in her chest. If he did, he’d grossly misinterpreted the reason behind it. “This is truly happening.”

Elain swallowed something thick in her throat, and forced another smile as she turned to face him at last. “I know, Father.”

The white of his teeth nearly outmatched the chandeliers above. “You look absolutely spectacular,” he complimented, his smile wider as he noted the tulle roses. “Are you ready to meet your husband?”

She supposed there was no turning back now.

Father nodded to the guards. “Invite the Visitor in.”

Every single head in the ballroom turned as two, white-gloved hands turned the golden, ornate knobs and swung the doors open.

Elain held her breath—then counted to three. Four. Five.

On seven, he entered.

She’d spotted his jacket first—a deep navy-blue adorned with fine, silken thread. Fitted, charcoal trousers and boots, echoing quietly off the marble floor as the Visitor finally stepped into the light.

Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

His long hair was like molten fire, a stark contrast against the depth of his jacket. Shades of red, auburn and orange, falling down his back in waves as the firelight danced on his golden brown skin—almost like greeting an old friend. There was something raw about his beauty—he was hardly one of the perfect, polished aristocrats she’d danced with at other balls. No, there was a cruelty about him—as if he’d been crafted by the same flame that gleamed playfully atop the chandeliers warming her skin, melting every guard she’d ensured to build up, every reason she could think of that made him the worst fate the world had in store for her.

Elain could have sworn that fire sizzled in his russet eyes as he reached the dais—as he stopped before her and bowed at the waist.

When he looked up again, their gazes locked and held. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Lady Archeron,” he greeted, his voice smooth and deep. “My name is Greysen Nolan.”

#this looks like a cover of a reverse harem novel I PROMISE YOU IT IS NOT #there is a perfectly acceptable amount of smut in this fic #we're just going purely off vibes #and the map LOL #acotar gift exchange #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fic #elucien fanfiction #acotar #my writing

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