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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 9 months

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WOMANIZER

Pairing: Mor x Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: girls just being horny for one another, consider reader kinda like Satine from Moulin Rouge, or even like the mata hari

Words:2767

Summary: For shits and giggles, Mor accompanies the Shadowsinger and General to see one of the Day Court’s famous showhouses. It’s said that the most beautiful temptress with Illyrian wings dances for the wealthy.

*I know in SJM's universe the words 'man' and 'woman' aren't used to describe fae genders but for the sake of this story, I'm going to push that fact aside since I really like the title name :)

*doesn't really follow any canonical timeline

*This is my first time writing for ACOTAR so please be kind

Mor stares at the finely painted poster depicting a curvaceous female with bat-like wings trailing behind her. She wonders if the painter exaggerated her beauty or if it how the female truly was.

Either way she thought it would be amusing to go along with Cassian’s suggestion.

He’d heard talk all over the Day Courts of the performer known as the Temptress with Wings. Illyrians weren’t necessarily big celebrities in Prythian. They chose to stay in their mountains and commit themselves to savagery. The Temptress was different. Or so that’s what Cassian heard.

Unfortunately Azriel wasn’t as willing as a companion. He put up with his brother dragging him by the shirtsleeve and the stares that were being shot their way.

Chuckling to herself, Mor shakes her head. Those two could act like petulant children sometimes.

She picks up her pace to catch up with them and holds up three tickets. “They’ll turn the two of you away if you go in there looking like you kidnapped Az. Plus you need your tickets.”

Outside stained glass doors, decorated with warm oranges and reds to imitate the nature of the night’s performance. While Mor had been doubtful about this adventure, all was swept under the rug when the trio steps through the grand entrance of the showhouse the Den.

A wave of anticipation starts to thrum against her pulse. Her brown eyes round in awe.

Every sense is held captive, a mesmerizing fusion of opulence and seduction is rolled out in front of her. Of course, only in Helion's domain would there be such splendor; a haven where temptation was shamelessly displayed for all to see. Bathed in a soft, golden glow, the walls are adorned with tapestries depicting other performers that had resided there at one point in time. They were stitched in poses of passion and desire.

Cassian and Azriel too are captivated by all around them yet the other attendees go about their business, waiting for the show to begin so that they may entertain the main hall.

Mor picked up on the heavy scent in the air of exotic perfumes mingling with a small instrumental band that played on a smaller dais. Their intoxicating melody floated through the air to mingle with the perfume.

"Every corner of this place is a masterpiece." Azriel murmurs, the first thing any of them has said since entering. Az cranes his neck up to check out the ceiling. Crystal chandeliers cascade from the top, multi colored lights cast a dazzling stained glass affect on the marble floor beneath them (much like the front windows).

Releasing a low whistle, Cassian puts his hands in his pockets. He looked and felt a little out of place. His frame was already large without his wings carefully tucked in. Even the rugged charm of his face couldn't compare to the polished beauty of the other guests. This didn't stop him from shooting Mor an excited smile.

As the doors to the show hall were still closed, they wade through others to get to the bar that was filled to the brim of every alcoholic drink Prythian had to offer.

Subtly, Mor listens in on a few conversations going around her.

"I didn't think an Illyrian could be graceful. (y/n) is really something else." A well dressed male comments with a toothy grin. "It's near impossible to book a private meeting with her though."

His companion groans. "I know. You'd have to be as wealthy as the high lord to get into contact with her."

Off to her other side, a woman complains to her friend "Such a backwards people shouldn't be let into our society." She scoffs and uses her fan to cool herself off as the room was growing warm with so many bodies pressed together.

Her friend disagreed. "Now I don't know about other Illyrians, but she doesn't seem to be like them. I hear her father was a high fae and once he heard about the wing clipping he took his daughter out of there and raised her among us."

That knowledge didn't make (y/n) anymore endearing to the first female. "So she's a mongrel then."

Mor keeps her face smooth, concealing the nasty look she wanted to shoot toward the cynical female. But many would think the same.

Azriel, as was his job, had been absentmindedly listening as well to the flow of different conversations. His own brow twitched at catching the mongrel remark. "Yet here she is paying good money to watch a mongrel perform." He grits out under his breath.

Tossing his drink back, Cass keeps the mood light by saying "Hey it's (y/n) whose having the last laugh. With this crowd, she'll be raking in all that gold by the end of the night."

True.

The reception room, while large, was bursting at the seams with males and females alike. There would be quite a lot of money to count come closing. Wealth was something this (y/n) was not lacking in.

Finally, several sets of double doors swing open, welcoming everyone into the actual show room that was no less elegant. The flow of the crowd is calm like a river as people spill into the show room, going to their respective seats and tables. Balcony seating had dining tables available for those who wanted to eat and watch the performance without disturbing the audience.

They take their respective seats, eyes falling upon the empty stage with titillation.

Once everyone is seated, a hush descends as the lights of the stage are lit and a symphony of sound, color and movements dazzles them. Out steps the most beautiful creature Mor had ever laid eyes on. (y/n) is adorned in an elaborate costume (much like the one she wears on the poster) that leaves little to the imagination. Gold adorned her wrists and ankles as well as the delicate structure of her neck. Her wings trail behind her and move in a perfect, fluid harmony as her hands flutter; inviting the crowd to the forbidden pleasures that would unravel on stage. The skirt she wore was of the faintest lavender hue and dangled with tinkling bells as she danced.

Everyone held their breath.

The way she moved with her wings, unperturbed by their existence and even utilizing them in her act.

And then she sang.

The audience had already been a sea of enraptured faces, but the moment she parted her lips, no one stood a chance at concentrating on anything else but her. The most heavenly voice she had ever heard resonated through the showhouse, filling every empty corner with its ethereal beauty. Divinity was woven into the fabric of her vocal cords as (y/n) crooned. It wrapped around the hearts of not just Mor, but also her companions who sat dumbstruck.

(y/n)'s voice was magic itself. Lyrics that spill from her paint vivid images and evoked emotions she had never experienced before. Something like this, Mor was sure, could heal wounds, mend broken hearts and ignite hope within the darkest of souls.

Every cruel memory that made up Mor's past vanished. Meaningless.

Her wings, which she spread out to fan behind her, shimmer against the multicolored lights of the stage. Fluttering gently along with her swaying body.

There was a moment where she could have sworn she caught (y/n)'s teasing eyes. That a fleeting smile graced (y/n)'s lips when she spotted Mor. But the moment vanished just as soon as it had happened making Mor doubtful about the exchange. Still, even that bit of attention from her had Mor drawn in deeper.

How long had they all been held captive by (y/n)? Mor wasn't sure.

Only when the music ended at (y/n) walked off stage did people leap to their feet in thunderous applause and roars for an encore.

Mor, Az and Cass simply sit there in awe.

It had taken a lot of strength for the trio to peel themselves out of their seats and go back out into reality. They felt dazzed and lost but grateful for experiencing such a show.

"Aren't you glad I dragged you here?" Cassian jokes as they go back out into the reception hall to grab one more drink before leaving.

Azriel shakes his head but he had a smile on his face. "Don't push it."

Mor chuckles but a tap on her shoulder as her straightening her back to address whoever had tapped her.

"You've been requested an audience by (y/n)."

Cassian and Azriel gawk, a little jealous that Mor had been chosen specifically.

Hesitantly she follows the usher before telling the boys she would catch up with them later.

Down one corridor were secret alcoves, covered by velvet curtains. An incredibly intimate warmth runs up Mor's neck as the usher pulls back one curtain to reveal (y/n) among dozens of bouquets and boxes with glittering jewels. She'd looked bored before Mor was introduced. Her (e/c) eyes came to life and she beckons Mor to come in.

The usher leaves the two alone as Mor makes her way through the throng of strong smelling flowers.

"I must admit, it's quite the honor to have the Night Court's most trusted advisors watching me perform." Her voice is of the finest skill as she purrs, patting the spot next to her on the love seat. She no longer wore her costume, but a lightweight robe that still revealed every curve of her body.

Mor smiles, forcing her heart to get a grip. "The honor was our's. I've. . . We've never seen an Illyrian like you before. Not one that can move or sing like that. You were magnificent." She watches intently as (y/n) grabs a bottle from a tub of ice and hands Mor a long stemmed glass.

"I doubt Illyrians would ever even entertain the idea of performing for high fae." (y/n) rolls her eyes. "My father took me back once to the mountains where my mother's people live. That much was enough for me."

Pursing her lips, Mor nods. The words of the woman in the reception hall are repeated in her head.

Mor could see the pointed tips of (y/n)'s ears, the only sign that she was only half-Illyrian. Much like Rhysand's. Up close, Mor could even see a spattering of freckles on the bridge of (y/n)'s nose. Mor was distracted by the halflings beauty as (y/n) chattered away.

"-and when I saw you. Mother above." (y/n) laughed out. "I'm sure everyone tells you that you have to be the most beautiful female in the entire known world. I almost forgot the words of the song and my footing."

Cheeks flushing, Mor smiles for she was thinking the same about (y/n). "It means a lot more coming from you. We heard your praises while waiting for the show to start." Alcohol is definitely warming her up and making her tongue loose. This wouldn't be the first time Mor had courted a female, but this would be the first time she has met her match in a potential partner.

"Yes, I'm sure you heard more than praises out there." Unconsciously, (y/n)'s shoulder leans against Mor's arm as both get comfortable with one another. This is not an unwelcome contact for Mor as the mere touch has a blaze engulfing the Morrigan. "No doubt you heard how I entertain rich males and bleed them dry."

"Have you ever invited Helion back here?" Mor takes a sip. Certainly the high lord with a high libido would not have let this treat go unsavored. Helion didn't seem like one put off by Illyrian wings considering he has asked for a four way that including Az and Cassian.

She nods. "Oh of course. He is the most generous of my patrons. But you can imagine he doesn't stop by often. What with being the high lord, he has more things on his mind than a pretty singer."

But (y/n) wasn't just a singer. That much Mor was sure about. If (y/n) had it in mind, she could be a sorceress and wield the most powerful magic. Her voice had influenced all in the room. Imagine that kind of power on the battlefield.

One could view Mor's that's as her trying to come up with a reason for the Illyrian singer to stay with her when she'd inevitably go back to Velaris. (y/n) could be useful to Rhysand but Helion would loathe to have such a renowned performer leave his court.

As bottles were emptied, Mor and (y/n) grew more comfortable around one another to where Mor had her legs drapped over (y/n)'s thighs while she ran a perfectly manicured hand along the length. This send shivers through Mor.

They spoke about everything under the sun from war to art to even Mor's upbringing in the Court of Nightmares. She couldn't bring herself to mention everything that transpired with her family and Eris. Maybe. . . Maybe some other time. But the mood was light and Mor didn't want to ruin it. Not when (y/n) was tracing intricate designs on Mor's thigh. Damn was it waking up every nerve on her skin and even more so it lit a needy sensation between her legs.

In the back of her mind, Mor reminds herself that this is what (y/n) did for a living. Of course not even Mor could refuse such seduction.

(Y/n) had not mentioned anything along the lines of payment as she genuinely seemed to want to be in Mor’s presence. At such ease with Mor’s shapely legs draped over her. Electric tingles sent chills up her arms when a finely shaped nail ever so gently scrapes along her skin. Her huge bat wings didn’t even appear to be in the way, the hung off over the back of the loveseat.

Illyrian wings were so sensitive. That was what the male part of the inner circle said. If Mor were to ghost her fingers along the leathery skin of (y/n)’s wings she wondered if the singer would mind. She’d never touched Cassian’s or Azriel’s and definitely not Rhysand’s.

So mesmerized, she missed the way a pair of dark eyes admiring the contours of her face, the pair of full lips painted in a alluring poppy red.

She likes the blonde’s appreciative gaze on her wings. They had escaped the plague of scars and deformity like many Illyrian women had due to the grotesque tradition of wing clipping. It wasn’t flattery that made (y/n) praise Mor’s beauty. When she saw Mor in the crowd, well, she knew she wouldn’t be having any other visitors that night. Perhaps not for a while depending how long Mor planned to stay in the court. Growing weary of the groveling of men, not even their money made up for what (y/n) had to put up with. They always wanted more than what she would give them. All the males (maybe except for Helion) were greedy. The few women she'd had in the past were more agreeable lovers. But females were often intimidated by (y/n) and tend to lean on being resentful toward her for her charms.

Not Mor though. She knew Rhysand's trusted advisor would not see her as a threat but a companion.

A heady fragrance of perfume and with the taste of intoxicating drinks in their system heightened their senses and emboldened there desires.

Before Mor could come to a conclusion on if she would brush her fingertips against (y/n)'s wings, the singer coaxed Mor's face to turn to face her with gentle fingers. She leaned closer and brushed her lips against Mor's. From that simple contact, a jolt went through the blonde. Tender and passionate became the exchange. Sound coming from outside of their intimate cocoon faded away leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

Countless kisses were shared that Mor began to lose track of the count and time for that matter. Hands flutter and grope at anything they could get ahold of. Never had Mor felt so complete before and so lost.

Her heart burned with the knowledge that their paths would cross again. How, she didn't know. But she'd be damned if this would be their one and only night together. If required, she would go to Rhys and tell him of her desire to have (y/n) by her side and perhaps he could come to an agreement with Helion to relinquish the beloved singer.

Finally pulling away with bruised and swollen lips, (y/n) smiled at her as if having the same thoughts.

They would meet again. Both females would make sure of that.

#acotar #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #a court of thorns and roses #mor x reader #mor acotar #morrigan #acotar morrigan #morrigan acotar #acotar the morrigan #morrigan x reader #acotar mor #acotar series #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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bright-side20 · 6 months

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Elain's Spy Role 🌹

Again, when the author mention something more than once, it means he's hinting, he's foreshadowing for an upcoming development.

SJM in acosf :

_Cassian shifted in his seat. “So we track down the Dread Trove—how?” Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.”

:The entire IC didn't hear her coming

_Feyre smiled. “Elain was the only one who guessed. She caught me vomiting two mornings in a row.” She nodded toward Azriel. “I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

:Do you know what the most important thing for spies is? It's secret-keeping. In every article you might read about spies, you'll find a mention of secret-keeping. Sarah didn't write about this and compared her ability to the spymaster's in keeping secrets for no apparent reason.

_“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.

:Another mention of Elain walking in stealth, and Nesta suspects she's getting lessons from Azriel or her spy friends. Again, Sarah didn't mention this for no reason; it's called foreshadowing

I know the argument of the antis, which is that the previous passages are silly and nothing compared to Gwyn hiding in the tree during the rite. However, women's espionage isn't about hiding; it's about blending in, building relationships, and using their charm to gather information... Additionally, when Nesta told Gwyn about the dead troves and asked her not to tell anyone, Gwyn later shared it with Merrill. As I mentioned before, spies must be good at secret keeping. So, this argument is essentially an opinion rooted in not wanting Elriel to happen. Analytically speaking, there is canon foreshadowing of Elain's future spy role, and thinking it's silly doesn't make it disappear.

I know that there is more evidence of Elain's setup as a spy, but I wanted to mention just the very obvious ones.

Recently, I was researching about Virginia Hall, the American spy and I read that during her early life "she was constantly just being dismissed as someone not very important or of no importance" and that "she was born to a wealthy family, and she was raised to marry into her own privileged circle." "But she wanted adventure"

It made me immediately think of:

_Elain's mother :"Elain is pleasant to look, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day"

Elain: “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?”When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater."

Elain will be a spy and I'm so Excited 😄

#elriel #elain archeron #pro elain #sarahjmaas #pro elriel #azriel acotar #elriel supremacy #acotar thoughts #sjm #elain x azriel #elainarcheron #elain acotar #acotar theory #acosf

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starsreminisce · 2 months

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SJM Romance Week Day Seven Free Day: Angst

Lucien's gaze bore into Nuan's, a well of despair pooling in his eyes as he extended the faebane towards her, a silent plea etched in every line of his face. But Nuan met his desperate look with a disapproving frown, her reluctance evident as she hesitated to accept the offering.

"Please," he implored, his voice a fragile whisper, pushing the faebane into her hand with trembling fingers. "I just need something. Anything."

"Loosh," Nuan began, her tone heavy with concern. "I just don't think dulling it is the solution."

Desperation laced his words as he pleaded, "Please... I just want it to stop hurting. I want it to stop. Please. It’s not forever."

He watched as Nuan's expression shifted, her features tightening with a mixture of empathy and caution. "Does she know?" she inquired, her voice soft yet probing.

His response came in a defeated murmur, "She doesn't care."

Nuan's scrutiny deepened, her eyes reflecting a guarded understanding. "She hasn't given you an answer for years, Loosh. I think it's the opposite."

"It's not forever," he reiterated, his voice barely above a whisper, clinging to a thread of hope amidst the turmoil.

Nuan pursed her lips, contemplating his plea with a weighty silence before finally relenting. "Okay," she conceded, her voice resigned yet determined. "Let me see if I can isolate it so that it can just affect the bond."

“Thank you,” Lucien breathed, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes as he clung to the possibility of respite from his torment.

***

Lucien sat at the dinner table, his wine glass swirling idly in his hand, his attention drifting away from the lively chatter around him. Across from him, Elain wore her usual charismatic smile, effortlessly charming everyone present. He couldn't help but wonder why he had agreed to Feyre's invitation to this so-called family dinner, and even more so, why Elain had chosen to grace them with her presence.

Ignoring the distance she maintained from him, Lucien couldn't help but notice how she positioned herself closer to Azriel. It stung, especially considering the coldness with which she had regarded him just a few weeks prior, as if he were somehow at fault for something beyond his control. He hummed to himself, recalling the panic Feyre had experienced when she couldn't feel her mate's presence after weeks of faebane poisoning.

Lucien's hopes hinged on Nuan's ingenuity in isolating the effects of the herb, ensuring that he could alleviate his pain without sacrificing his abilities entirely. Not that he relied on them heavily to begin with. So when Nuan finally reached out with a potential solution, he couldn't help but feel a surge of hope and gratitude.

However, Nuan's offer came with a condition: Elain would need to be made aware of the remedy and consume the other half of the potion. It wasn't strictly necessary, but Nuan believed it would be beneficial. Lucien made no promises or bargains; he simply stated that if Elain showed him attention, he would share the information with her. But if she remained indifferent, he would inform her after the week had passed.

With his decision made, Lucien wasted no time in informing Rhys and Feyre of his intentions. He believed he had earned this respite, and he was determined to take full advantage of it.

"So, where again are you headed?" Feyre inquired, leaning forward with curiosity.

Lucien took a sip of his wine before replying, "Montesere. It's a beautiful country, a playground for the wealthy."

Rhysand's jaw tensed at the mention of the place. "They're planning to march on us. Not exactly an ideal vacation spot."

Lucien knew that all too well. He had no intention of actually going there; he just needed to create the illusion that he was far from the reach of their daemati abilities.

"Worst case, I can provide a report on the climate," he offered with a casual shrug.

"Well, I hope you have a wonderful break," Feyre said warmly, reaching for his hand. "You've certainly earned it."

As the conversation lulled and the guests began to drift towards the living room, Lucien positioned himself by the door, waiting for an opportunity to speak to Elain. He had promised himself he would try.

"Lady," he called out as she made to walk past him, her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

She seemed intent on ignoring him, but he reached out and gently grasped her wrist, prompting her to stop abruptly, her expression alarmed as she glanced down at his hand, which he quickly withdrew.

"I need to tell you something," Lucien said quietly, his voice tinged with urgency. "I'm going to—"

"Montesere," Elain interjected, her tone icy. "Have fun."

Without another word, she turned and made her way upstairs, leaving Lucien feeling defeated.

Well, he had tried.

***

Elain sighed deeply, her wrist still tingling from the warmth of his touch, a sensation that sent a flurry of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. It took every ounce of her willpower to resist the urge to throw herself at him, to press her lips against his and drown in the longing that flickered in his gaze.

The mere sound of her title on his lips had sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a fierce longing within her that she struggled to contain. She was furious with him for choosing Montesere, for opting to escape to a place where tulip fields bloomed, rather than staying in Velaris where she had hoped they could spend time together. She had planned to follow his every move, to linger in his favorite spots, in the hopes of engaging in genuine conversation away from the prying eyes of her sisters and their mates and the disapproving scowl of Azriel, who seemed to view their interactions as nothing more than a spectacle.

Montesere. The mere mention of the place felt like a betrayal, separating them by an entire ocean.

But she steeled her resolve, pushing aside the ache in her heart as she attempted to quell the turmoil within her. How could she possibly bring herself to speak to him when there are seemingly better uses for that mouth of his?

Yet, a small voice within her whispered, urging her to wait, to bide her time. Perhaps one more week would grant her the courage she needed to finally confront him, to lay bare her feelings and let him know just how deeply she cared for him. Until then, she would have to endure the ache of longing and the torment of unspoken words, hoping that when the time came, he would be ready to listen.

She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

***

Alone in the secluded cottage, Lucien allowed himself a moment of bitter reflection. No one knew of this place except for him, a small haven tucked away close to a tranquil lake on the border between Autumn and Spring. If Feyre hadn't been so deceitful towards him, he might have brought her here instead of the cave where he had camped. They could have waited out the faebane poisoning together, but he couldn't bring himself to trust her with the knowledge of this sanctuary. He didn't want Rhys to know about it either.

Lucien had meticulously warded the cottage, drawing on what he had learned from Helion's public spellbooks. Even if someone stumbled upon this hidden retreat, they would find it registered under the name of Jesminda Berdara—a combination of his first love's hilariously common first name and his mother's surname. With his mother's family being so extensive, no one would question his connection to the property.

As he stepped inside, the lights flickered to life, and the fire in the hearth crackled warmly. Lucien carefully unpacked his provisions for the week, ensuring the icebox was filled with enough food to sustain him.

With a sense of trepidation, he retrieved one of the four vials from Nuan, the solution to his torment. Taking a deep breath, he downed the contents in one gulp, feeling the effects wash over him like a gentle wave. His vision blurred slightly, and he stumbled towards the bed, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh.

As sleep enveloped him, Lucien hoped that the next week would bring him respite from the pain and turmoil that had consumed him for far too long.

***

Elain's scream echoed through the stillness of the night, jolting her awake from a restless slumber. Panic gripped her chest as she frantically looked down to the thread that bound her to Lucien, the lifeline that had always connected them.

But to her horror, it was dull and lifeless, a mere shadow of its former vibrant self. With trembling hands, she reached out and yanked at the thread with all her strength, desperation fueling her actions. Yet, there was no response, no flicker of pain or protest from Lucien.

She pulled harder, her heart pounding in her chest, her breaths coming in short gasps as she fought against the suffocating grip of fear. Still, the thread remained unchanged, refusing to yield to her desperate pleas.

In a last-ditch effort, she tried to reach out to him through their bond, searching for the familiar warmth and comfort that had always flowed between them. But there was nothing. Just an empty void.

No sunshine coursing through her veins. No fire enveloping her soul. Just an increasingly overwhelming void where his presence should have been

Tears welled up in her eyes as she kept pulling and pulling and pulling through the bond they shared, but there was nothing. No presence of Lucien's essence intertwining with hers. Only an eerie silence where his presence once thrived.

For the first time since she had turned fae, Elain felt truly alone. The absence of Lucien's presence left her feeling adrift, as if a vital part of her had been torn away. In that moment, she realized just how deeply intertwined their souls had become, and the emptiness that now consumed her was almost unbearable.

***

As Lucien slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, he was met with an unfamiliar sensation, an eerie silence that permeated the air around him. His consciousness struggled to fully awaken as he reached out for the bond that connected him to Elain, only to find it lying dull and lifeless, like a faded thread lost in the shadows.

But it wasn't just the bond that felt muted; everything around him seemed cloaked in a strange, suffocating quietude.

Attempting to summon his powers, Lucien felt a feeble spark flicker within him, barely managing to conjure even the smallest flame. Yet, despite his initial frustration, he couldn't deny the curious absence of the usual tumultuous thoughts and emotions that typically swirled within him.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was no incessant chant in his mind, no overwhelming urge to claim his mate, no irrational devotion clouding his judgment. It was as if a veil had been lifted, granting him a rare moment of clarity and tranquility.

A smile tugged at the corners of Lucien's lips as he embraced the newfound serenity that enveloped him. Perhaps this unexpected reprieve from the chaos of his emotions was exactly what he needed to truly enjoy his vacation. With a sense of calm settling over him, Lucien felt ready to embrace the quietude and explore the depths of this newfound peace.

***

Elain remained seated by the window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, longing for the warmth of the sun to return to her life. Despite the voices of concern that surrounded her, she remained lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to the inquiries directed her way.

"Elain," Nesta's gentle voice broke through the haze of her reverie. "Is there something we can get for you?"

"Sunshine," Elain replied softly, her voice tinged with longing as she tugged on her bond.

She could hear Feyre's suggestion of fetching Lucien, followed by Rhys's response that they couldn't reach him—he was too far away. And just like that, Elain knew. She couldn't reach him either. He was too far away, lost in a distance that felt insurmountable, leaving her to yearn for his presence as she sat alone by the window, waiting for the sunshine to return to her life once more.

***

Lucien immersed himself in the simple pleasures of solitude, filling his days with activities that allowed him to escape the turmoil of his thoughts. He fished in the tranquil waters, the rhythmic motion of casting and reeling in the line soothing his restless mind. He swam in the cool embrace of the lake, the water washing away the weight of his worries with each stroke. He hunted in the dense forest surrounding the cottage, finding solace in the primal rhythm of the hunt.

Between these moments of activity, Lucien found refuge in the pages of books, losing himself in tales of adventure and romance. And when exhaustion inevitably crept in, he allowed himself the luxury of napping in the warm embrace of his bed, drifting into dreams that offered fleeting respite from the ache in his heart.

Occasionally, he sought solace in the hot springs nearby, the steam rising around him like a comforting blanket, easing the tension from his weary muscles. But even amidst these moments of tranquility, the absence of Elain lingered like a shadow, a constant reminder of the void that had formed between them.

Yes, he missed her—tremendously. But the memory of her cold gaze, her distant demeanor, served as a bitter reminder of the chasm that now separated them. He couldn't help but recoil from the imagined touch of her hand, the memory of her indifference cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Yet, despite the ache of longing that gnawed at his soul, Lucien harbored a flicker of hope that she was happy, wherever she may be. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he clung to the possibility that she had found peace in their newfound separation.

As the days passed, Lucien came to a quiet realization: perhaps one more week was needed for both of them to adjust to their newfound independence, to learn how to navigate a world where they were no longer bound by the threads of fate.

With that thought in mind, Lucien penned a letter to Feyre and Rhys, requesting an extension of his vacation. And then, with a heavy heart and a weary soul, he returned to the familiar routine of fishing, hunting, reading, napping, swimming, and soaking in the hot springs nearby.

And all the while, he missed Elain.

***

Feyre's brow furrowed in concern as she absorbed the contents of Lucien's letter, her mind racing with worry. "Well, that's not good," she murmured, her voice laced with apprehension. "Lucien just said he's staying one more week. We need to get him back."

Rhys's expression grew irate as he processed the information, his gaze distant as he growled, "Lucien isn't in Montesere. I sent someone to retrieve him. He isn't there."

Confusion and frustration welled up within Elain, igniting a fierce anger that burned like a raging inferno. She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she glared down at the thread that bound her to Lucien, her thoughts swirling with bitterness and resentment.

Prick. Prick. Prick. How dare he think he can hide from her? How dare he believe he can escape her reach?

Her eyes widened in astonishment when she noticed a faint glimmer of life flicker within the thread, a fleeting sign of his presence that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. With a desperate surge of determination, Elain reached out, attempting to grasp the elusive connection before it slipped away, leaving her once again enveloped in the oppressive emptiness of their bond.

"Where are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty and fear. "Where are you?"

"I need to talk to Helion," Elain declared abruptly, her tone commanding and resolute. "Now."

Rhys's expression softened with understanding, but he shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Helion can't find him," he explained wearily. "We've already asked."

But Elain's resolve remained unshaken. "Now," she repeated firmly, her gaze burning with determination as she refused to accept defeat. Whatever it took, she would find him. She would bring him back, no matter the cost.

***

Lucien sighed, gently swaying in the hammock as he contemplated what to make for dinner. Salmon and rice seemed like a comforting choice, a simple yet satisfying meal to ease the hunger pangs that gnawed at his stomach. As he pondered the menu, his thoughts drifted back to Elain and the inexplicable anger he had sensed from her earlier. He couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at his conscience, concerned for whoever might have been the unfortunate recipient of her rare wrath.

Furrowing his brow, Lucien glanced around the serene surroundings, a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, even though he had taken every precaution to ensure his solitude remained undisturbed. But then, he realized with a start that there was only one person who could possibly find him here, hidden away from the rest of the world.

His breath caught in his throat as he sensed a presence nearby, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. And then, as if materializing out of thin air, a pair of chocolate-colored eyes met his gaze, shimmering with intensity and emotion. Elain's eyes.

They lingered for a moment, sweeping over the tranquil scenery before settling on him with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. There was a hint of anger in their depths as they narrowed ever so slightly, a silent accusation that made him swallow hard against the lump in his throat. And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished into thin air, leaving Lucien to grapple with the unsettling feeling of being observed from afar.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Elain was trying to tell him something, a message conveyed through the silent language of her eyes. But what that message might be, he could only guess. And as he continued to swing in the hammock, the weight of her gaze lingering in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what lay behind the anger that burned within her heart.

***

Elain let out a heavy breath, her mind swirling with determination as she confirmed Lucien's whereabouts in the Autumn Court. It was a risky move, one that Nesta vehemently opposed, warning her that she would meet her demise if she dared to venture into that treacherous realm.

Cassian offered no assistance, Feyre could only promise aid if Elain could scry Lucien's location, and Azriel remained frustratingly unhelpful despite her attempts to sway him with her charms. Even Mor refused to get involved, citing her reluctance to meddle in the affairs of mates for a third time, and Amren offered no solutions either.

But Elain refused to be deterred. She would find a way into the Autumn Court, by any means necessary. And so, she turned to the next logical course of action: reaching out to Eris.

In a calculated move, Elain penned a letter to Eris, requesting a meeting to discuss a matter of utmost importance. To her surprise, Eris agreed to meet with her at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, where they could walk and talk discreetly under the guise of shopping alone.

As they strolled through the stalls, Eris wasted no time in addressing the elephant in the room. "I know why you're coming to me," he stated bluntly. "He's not there."

Elain's response was equally pointed, her tone icy with disdain. "I didn't realize I was speaking to Beron," she retorted, refusing to be intimidated by his veiled threats.

Eris chuckled at her retort. "I cannot be seen with you there, knowing who you are," he explained. "You're risking even suggesting that Lucien is hiding in the Autumn Court."

Elain met his gaze unflinchingly. "Would I if I were to go to Beron and plead for his help, knowing how motivated he is to find his wayward son?"

"You wouldn't dare," Eris countered.

Elain's lips curved into a cold smile. "I don't think you're much of a gambling male."

After a brief exchange, Eris agreed to her request, offering to assist her in locating Lucien in exchange for a favor. With the terms set, Elain wasted no time in presenting him with Feyre's painting, a clue to Lucien's whereabouts.

Eris examined the painting with interest, but admitted his unfamiliarity with the location depicted. Nevertheless, he agreed to take Elain to the Autumn Court's gates by the Spring Court and adjust the guards' schedule to give her a day to search for Lucien.

With the deal struck, Eris wasted no time in leading Elain to the designated location. As they approached the cave, Elain's heart pounded with anticipation. She glanced down at the dull thread that still connected her to Lucien, a silent reminder of their bond.

With determination in her eyes, Elain followed the thread into the darkness of the cave, knowing that even though it may be dulled, it still led her home—to him.

***

As Lucien ventured out to hunt for ducks, he found himself unable to shake the persistent ache of longing that seemed to pulse incessantly in his groin, a physical manifestation of his yearning for Elain. He tried to dispel the distraction by conjuring images of her icy glare, but his mind wandered to more explicit fantasies, fueled by the primal urges that surged within him.

With determination, he lined up his bow and arrow, intending to focus. Yet, despite his efforts, his aim faltered, the arrows missing their mark time and time again. Frustration gnawed at him, exacerbating the tension that coiled within him.

Desperate for relief, Lucien pressed his hand against his throbbing cock, hoping to ease the pressure. But the sensation only served to fuel his desires further, igniting a primal urge that demanded gratification.

As he finally managed to make a successful shot, bringing down two ducks, Lucien's excitement was palpable. Returning home, he cleaned the ducks in preparation for a roast, setting one aside for the following day and preparing the other for his dinner.

With a cheeky thought, Lucien decided to fully indulge himself, reasoning that no one was around to witness his actions. Stripping off his clothes, he ventured outside, the cool breeze caressing his skin as he settled into a chair overlooking the serene expanse of the lake.

With a hand wrapped around his hardened length, Lucien surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure that enveloped him, groaning softly as he stroked himself with increasing fervor. His mind filled with thoughts of Elain, her name escaping his lips in a whispered mantra as he neared the peak of ecstasy.

As the tension built to its crescendo, Lucien felt the wave of release crash over him, pleasure washing over every fiber of his being in an electrifying surge of bliss. With a ragged gasp of her name, he succumbed to the ecstasy, his body trembling with the intensity of his climax.

But before he could fully savor the moment, a sharp voice shattered the stillness of the air, jolting Lucien from his reverie. His eyes snapped open in disbelief as he beheld the sight of Elain standing before him, her arms crossed and her expression a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

"Nice to know that it's still me you think of, even when you try to reject the bond by your own doing," she retorted, her words laced with accusation as she took in the scene before her.

Caught in a moment of vulnerability, Lucien's cheeks burned with shame as he scrambled to compose himself, his mind racing for an explanation to appease her wrath. Yet, as he searched for the right words, he found himself at a loss, the weight of her gaze bearing down on him with unwavering scrutiny.

***

Elain's voice pierced the tranquil air like a thunderclap, causing birds to flutter away in alarm. She fixed her gaze on Lucien's sheepish expression, her heart pounding erratically in her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure. Cauldron boil her, he was huge, and the memory of his release, the evidence glistening on his stomach, sent a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Fate seemed to conspire against her as the breeze wafted his scent to her, enough to make her knees weak.

"Montesere?" she repeated, her voice trembling with disbelief as she struggled to process the surreal encounter before her.

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, his sheepish demeanor betraying his guilt. "Can I clean up?" he asked tentatively, his gaze flickering with uncertainty.

"Montesere?" Elain persisted, her voice growing more insistent with each repetition.

"This conversation would be better in pants," Lucien admitted with a sigh, his tone resigned as he acknowledged the gravity of the situation. "Go inside, and we can talk."

Elain remained rooted to the spot as Lucien made his way to the lakeshore to clean up. Despite her inner turmoil, she couldn't tear her gaze away as the drops of water trailed off every contour of his body, a sight that stirred a familiar ache within her.

As Lucien approached her, Elain couldn't help but notice the way his cock swayed freely, a tantalizing temptation that she dared not indulge in. With a silent gesture, Lucien held the door open for her, motioning for her to enter. Elain stepped inside, her eyes darting around the simple abode as she tried to regain her composure. The rustling of fabric signaled Lucien's return, and she braced herself for the difficult conversation that lay ahead.

Futile. It would be futile. All she wanted to do was pace and process. Sit and process. Why, just why. Lucien said nothing, offered nothing. She could see he was restless for any sort of action, but the reunion she had planted in her head was different from the actuality.

Never mind she had done the impossible and found him with a close-to-dead bond between them in enemy territory. Never mind that she felt like she was losing her mind the moment he was lost to her and she found out that it was because he had lied. Never mind that the only thing she could do, still could only do, was to climb him and demand that he never leave her.

"Tea?" Lucien offered, breaking the heavy silence that hung between them.

She turned to him, her expression demanding an explanation. "Explain."

***

Lucien remained quiet as Elain absorbed the weight of his words, her silence echoing through the room like a deafening roar. He had laid bare his soul to her, revealing the truth behind his actions and the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he watched her withdraw into herself, a sense of panic gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole.

But it wasn't just her silence that unsettled him. It was the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way the silver began to line her eyes, a telltale sign of her growing turmoil. His heart clenched with dread as he sensed her impending departure.

He surged forward, desperation lacing his voice. "Where are you going?"

Elain's response was simple, yet it struck him like a blow to the chest. "Velaris."

The words hung heavy in the air, the finality of her decision crashing over him like a tidal wave. He reached out to stop her, his hands trembling with urgency. "Stay. For dinner. For the night."

But Elain's resolve remained unyielding. "I was just told that my own mate would rather poison himself, and he expects me to stay?"

His heart thundered in his chest at her acknowledgment of their bond, the realization hitting him like a bolt of lightning. In a desperate bid to convey the depth of his emotions, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice cracking with emotion. He had never intended to cause her pain, yet here they were, caught in the aftermath of his actions.

"Lady, please," Lucien sighed, his voice pleading as he held her tightly in his embrace. "I messed up, okay? I messed up."

But Elain remained limp in his arms, her body rigid with tension as she struggled to process everything that had transpired between them.

"Talk to me," he implored, his voice filled with desperation. "Yell, talk, do something, please."

Slowly, Elain pulled away from him, her expression unreadable as she averted her gaze. "I can't."

"Then you don't have to right now," Lucien murmured, his tone gentle as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'll cook, and as the duck is roasting, you can shower, nap, I don't know... come with me to the hot springs, take whatever you need. But we are going to talk about this."

"Hot springs?" Elain's voice carried a hint of girlish surprise, her cheeks flushing pink as she looked away from him.

Realizing his oversight, Lucien quickly amended his suggestion. "Yes, I had plans to go while the duck was roasting. Or I can take you there while I stay here." He offered, hoping to alleviate some of the tension between them.

She looked up at him with a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity, her eyes searching his face for answers as she pulled away from his embrace and made her way to the couch. Lucien sighed heavily, feeling a weight settle in the pit of his stomach as he forced himself to focus.

Making his way to the kitchen, he began to prepare the duck for roasting, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to quell the tumult of emotions swirling within him. Yet, his concentration faltered when Elain appeared beside him, her presence a silent reminder of the unresolved tension between them.

"I've never made duck before," she remarked softly, her voice breaking the silence that hung between them.

"Feyre never hunted for one?" Lucien replied, his tone equally subdued as he continued with his preparations.

Elain shook her head, her gaze fixed on his hands as they deftly worked the ingredients. She remained silent for a moment before speaking again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you like it?"

"I do," Lucien responded, his own voice tinged with quiet contemplation. "Just wanted something other than fish for a change."

"Which fish is your favorite?" Elain inquired, her curiosity evident in her tone.

"Walleye," Lucien answered, a faint smile gracing his lips as he glanced at her. "I might try to get some tomorrow."

With the duck now in the oven, Lucien turned his attention back to Elain, his smile widening at the sight of her stone-faced expression. "Have you decided what to do while we wait?"

"I can take a nap," Elain replied, her voice soft yet resolute as she retreated into herself once more.

"Would you like me to show you to the room, Lady?" Lucien offered, hoping to make her feel more comfortable.

Elain blinked in surprise, her cheeks tinted with a slight blush as she turned away. "I think we are beyond you calling me Lady. Elain is fine."

"As you wish, Elain," Lucien replied with a warm smile, grateful for the chance to address her by name.

***

Elain sat on Lucien's bed, the soft mattress enveloping her in comfort as she bounced gently on it. The scent of him lingered in the air, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She hugged herself tightly, reminiscing about the desperation in his eyes as he pleaded with her to stay and talk, and the understanding he showed when she confessed that she couldn't. She couldn't shake the memory of his warm embrace, the ease of his smile, and the way he looked at her with longing. She filed away the information that he considered walleye his favorite fish, but he also enjoyed duck.

Her thoughts drifted to more intimate moments, moments that made her heart race and her cheeks flush with heat. The sheer size of him, the way he gasped her name repeatedly, the intensity of his desire for her... She couldn't deny the effect it had on her, the way her own desires mirrored his.

She blushed at the sound of her own name on his lips, tinged with longing and desire. He couldn't revert to calling her "Lady" now, not when her own name sounded so intimate and enchanting from him. She couldn't help but scoff inwardly. What was next? Would she tease him with her ankle? Although she knew that if she did, that would be as far as he'd go, never pushing for more or begging for further intimacy.

She glanced down at the dull thread that bound them together, a tangible reminder of their connection. Lucien had promised that it would wear off, but the thought of him poisoning himself just to alleviate pain weighed heavily on her heart. He was willing to endure his own suffering if it meant she could find happiness, all while allowing the bond to remain intact.

Her mind raced as she searched through the wardrobes, finding no trace of another woman's clothing. It was just him—his presence permeated every corner of the room. Her thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of possibilities, imagining scenarios where he slept in the nude, perhaps even sharing his bed with her in such a state.

She covered her face with her hands, a squeal escaping her lips as she grappled with the overwhelming rush of emotions coursing through her. This was only the third time they had been alone together, and it was the longest they had ever spoken. All she wanted was more, more of him, more of this connection that seemed to pull them inexorably closer.

But she knew that he would offer her the bed while he slept on the couch or the hammock outside. It was the kind of selflessness she had come to expect from him, and it only served to deepen her feelings for him.

She hadn't truly wanted a nap; every nerve in her body was on fire, and she couldn't blame the bond this time. All she wanted was to be near him, to talk to him, to explore the depths of their connection without the weight of the world bearing down on them.

***

Lucien frowned at his hardening cock through the murky water of the hot spring, cursing its untimely arousal as he tried to relax. With his hands stretched behind him, he attempted to let the warmth of the water ease the tension that seemed to coil within him, but it was a futile effort. The presence of his mate only seemed to exacerbate his inner turmoil.

He could feel her eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move, and he couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were racing through her mind. Despite the hurt he saw in her eyes, he noticed a hint of curiosity soften her gaze as he went about preparing their dinner. He debated internally whether he should offer her company or give her space, uncertain of what she truly wanted.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to let the tranquility of the moment wash over him, grateful for the absence of the usual primal urges that came with the mating bond. Yet, even without the overwhelming need to claim her, he couldn't deny the desires and yearnings that still lingered within him, independent of the bond.

His breath hitched sharply when he heard Elain's quiet footsteps approaching, her presence stirring something within him. Dressed in his shirt—the sight of which sent a jolt of desire coursing through him—she hesitantly made her way to the edge of the hot spring.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the gentle splashing of the water.

Lucien compiled without hesitation, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited her next move. He listened intently as she entered the water, the sound of her movements mingling with the soothing bubbling of the hot spring. Though he couldn’t see her, he could feel her presence, a tangible warmth against the comforting heat of the water.

What felt like an eternity stretched on until she broke the silence with a “this is nice.” The sound of her voice, soft and melodious, sent a shiver down Lucien's spine, and he swallowed a huge lump in his throat.

“I was angry when I found out that you weren’t staying in Velaris instead, opting to go to Montesere,” Elain's words flowed gently, filling the space between them with warmth. “Truth was that when I first heard that you would be returning to Velaris, I was weary and scared because I knew the inner circle would try to force us together but you staying in Velaris is different than you visiting Velaris.”

Lucien listened intently, his heart aching with understanding.

“I can’t talk to you,” Elain murmured softly, her vulnerability palpable in the air between them.

Lucien furrowed his brows, his mind racing with possibilities. “We have to start somewhere, Elain. I wouldn't know that I am hurting you if I don't know that I am.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Is there something I can do? Something to help? Letters or …”

“There is,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

With closed eyes, Lucien turned his head towards where he hoped she was, anticipating her next move. He felt her presence drawing nearer, her breath ghosting over his skin as her lips brushed against his, startling him into wide-eyed alertness.

His heart pounded erratically as he stared into her equally startled face, a mix of confusion and longing swirling in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Elain stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she attempted to retreat from the unexpected intimacy.

But before she could escape, Lucien reached out and gently grasped her hand, anchoring her in place. His eyes softened as he looked at her, a silent plea for her to stay. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her bare skin. He felt her tense initially, her body stiffening in response. But instead of pulling away, she surprised him by leaning into his embrace, her own arms enveloping him in return.

Her touch sent a wave of warmth coursing through him, easing the tension in his muscles and soothing the ache in his heart. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and reveling in the closeness they shared. The scent of her hair, a delicate floral fragrance mixed with the natural aroma of the hot spring, enveloped him like a comforting embrace.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured softly against her skin, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should apologize to you for doing something you weren’t expecting.”

He felt her relax more in his arms, her breaths coming slower and more steady. The tension seemed to dissipate with each passing moment, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection that he had longed for.

Elain looked nervous, her gaze flickering with uncertainty, but the nerves weren't directed at him. He could sense her inner turmoil, the conflict raging within her as she struggled to navigate her emotions. Lucien leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above hers, his heart pounding with anticipation.

With a surge of desire and longing, his hands began to caress her skin, his touch gentle yet possessive. His fingers traced the curves of her body, memorizing every contour, every dip and curve. He felt her respond in kind, her own hands exploring his form with a hesitant but eager touch.

“Kiss me how you want to,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and anticipation. He waited, breathless, for her response, his heart pounding in his chest as he yearned for the connection that only she could provide.

Elain's breath caught in her throat as she raked her hands through his hair, her touch sending electric pulses through his body. Her fingers trembled slightly with anticipation, the warmth of her touch searing his skin. Lucien couldn't help but throw her a grin, his heart soaring with hope.

"You already know how I feel about you," he whispered.

"Fuck, Lucien," she finally sighed, her voice husky with emotion.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise at her choice of word, but before he could say anything else, she took the initiative. With a surge of longing and pent-up desire, Elain closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a fierce and passionate kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she tasted him.

He responded eagerly, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her even closer as he deepened the kiss. Their bodies pressed together, heat building between them as they lost themselves in each other's embrace.

As Elain's lips trailed along his neck, Lucien couldn't help the gasp that escaped him, his body responding eagerly to her touch. He felt a surge of heat coursing through him, his senses overwhelmed by the sensation of her soft lips against his skin.

With each kiss, he felt himself growing more and more lost in the moment, his hands moving instinctively to pull her closer. He could feel the rhythm of her movements, the way she rocked her hips against him, igniting a fire within him.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he surrendered to the pleasure, his mind clouded with desire. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her, to give in to the overwhelming need that pulsed through him with every beat of his heart.

With a soft moan, he leaned into her touch, his body trembling with anticipation. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer, couldn't deny the longing that burned within him.

"Show me, Lucien," she whispered huskily, her words sending a shiver down his spine. "Show me how much you want me."

And with that, he let himself be consumed by the passion, surrendering to the irresistible pull of desire as he showed her just how much he wanted her.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfiction #sjmromanceweek2024

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gwyns · 2 months

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“that's why i think the "you're the new ribbon, az" line is so important. it's straight up telling us that gwyn is determined and she has her sights set on az.”

Thank you for responding to my ask! Can you go more into detail what you mean by that ^ please? Do you think by the end of Silver Flames Gwyn has a crush on Azriel (at times it seemed like (to me at least) she was teasing/flirting with him)? I think when Gwyn does want something or when she develops a crush/romantic feelings for Azriel, she’s not going to beat around the bush. She might be a little nervous (because of her trauma which is very understandable) but she knows what she wants. Does that make sense?😂 the dynamic between Gwyn and Azriel is something I’m very excited & curious to see!

no problem at all, i love talking with you guys!

honestly it's a bit tricky for me to truly explain what i feel that quote is implying but let me try. i don't think gwyn or az have any strong feelings towards each other by the end of acosf, i do think there's a mutual respect and trust there. i think gwyn may be curious about him, probably thinks he's hot and since she's been reading smutty books, she might want to explore that in the future with him since it's clear she trusts him. she was comfortable with him alone at night and comfortable enough to ask him for private dagger lessons. i feel she might see him as a "safe" option to explore her sexuality, if she chooses

basically, i don't think they have crushes or are even fully friends yet. i think gwyn finds him attractive and az finds her charming, i think they like each other, and at least on gwyn's end, are interested in something more at a certain point. what that more is, i'm not entirely sure, but i tried my best to explain how i saw their interactions above. i also like the theory that gwyn knows they're mates already, or at least will know first so it could be a lot of things, really. but this whole thing was just my personal interpretation of their characters and banter lol

and don't worry, you make perfect sense! in my ideal gwynriel novel their relationship would go something like friends with flirty banter > best friends who are even more competitive with more flirty banter that borders on sexual innuendos > one of them finds out they're mates, preferably gwyn > lovers > fully accepted mates and deeply in love with each other

but i also know and understand i am completely at sjm's mercy, so i'm just along for the ride

#acotar #gwyneth berdara #azriel #gwynriel #asks #anonymous

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meldarkthrop · 17 days

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I've seen many crack theories.. but here's one that always makes me laugh:

"Oh Elain and Lucien will be good friends but that's all, strictly platonic that's what SJM meant by telling that they'll have tension, healing and growth together...haha!"

A vast majority of the fandom is still surprised that Feyre didn't fall for Lucien in book 1. That's how magnetic, charming and fascinating his character is. So you think, Elain Archeron, would get to know Lucien Vanserra, her MATE, and then decide to... just be friends?

Elain will certainly not make a decision without spending time with Lucien. SJM would not do a disservice to two characters like that, no matter how much some people manifest a "mate reject, sorry bye" situation. So, the 'getting to know each other' part is a must, and I firmly believe it will lead to love. As it did for every SJM mate pairing. Therefore, Elucien endgame is inevitable.

Be serious, because once Elain likes Lucien enough to be 'friends' with him, what would stop her from falling for Lucien? Hmm, let's see.

His kindness and patience? His bravery and loyalty? His care and protectiveness? His snark, witty humour and charisma? How supportive and respectful he is? How well dressed, elegant and stunning he looks? The 'fire in his blood'? 🥵 How resilient and selfless he is, no matter how much trauma life throws at him? (I could keep going but I'll stop for now)

Antis: No way, Elain would not fall for a man with all this.. j-just platonic..haha–* Coping intensifies *

Ah yes, because it totally makes sense for Elain and Lucien to 'platonically' have 'tension, healing, and growth together' while somehow simultaneously having a foRbIdDeN romance between Azriel and Elain. Totally believable! /s

#lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron

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princessofmerchants · 23 days

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Hey ! first of all: I recently discovered you blog & totally fell in love with it🥺, especially after my "Nessian Hangover".

I know this might be a bit off-topic from your usual content, but there's something about Cassian's relationship with Mor that really irks me...and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

His actions, like pulling away from Nesta's hand in ACOWAR, left me feeling frustrated and sympathetic towards Nesta. And then there's that whole thing in Wings and Embers where he's all secretive about Nesta with Mor and doesn't wanna tell her about Nesta, which gave off major mixed signals?? I mean, describing Mor as something between a lover and a friend, while also being like family? That was so confusing, how can she be all three to him? it just felt so ... inappropriate and I felt so bad for Nesta bc obviously she deserves someone who has only eyes for her.

But then in SF he says all romantic feelings turned into familial bonds after the incident so what was that about then in WaE and pulling his hand away in ACOWAR?

Also in WaE it sounded like he primarily slept with Mor out of jealouy but in SF it does seem like he did had romantic feelings towards her ? :/ ...

And when he thought in SF about how hauntingly beautiful Mor is and how it takes his breath away and that she is lovely and perfect .... it just drove me mad tbh because this sounded very romantic coded to me which made me feel so bad for Nesta.

it has been all so confusing and inconsistent to me and also just frustrating how he talked so poetic about a woman he slept with (or did he also call Nesta also hauntingly beautiful or lovely or perfect and I'm not remembering it?), or how he didn't wanted to show Mor that he has feelings for Nesta?? :/ - so I just wondered what you thought about all of that, in hopes to calm me down or clarify bc it really almost ruined him for me (maybe I was misinterpreting stuff?).

hope that's not a weird question bc of how spesific it is haha

BTW I love your love for Nesta bc same🖤.

I love this ask, Anon, and how detailed and specific it is. It is a question after my own heart! My response is long so it's after the break.

Thank you for saying you love my love for Nesta - that means the world to me. What I especially like about your ask is, it is about canon Nesta, who is the Nesta I most treasure, and by extension about canon Nessian. I sometimes feel like a lone voice in the drafty moors of Tumblr with my deep and abiding love for canon Nessian, so the fact that this ask lets me talk about them in canon makes me happy!

I have given this a lot of thought since receiving your question, and I'm not sure how satisfying parts of my answer will be, so my apologies in advance for the fact that I am not actually going to offer an explanation for how and why all the details you listed can co-exist in a single, utterly comprehensive whole for the Cassian-Mor relationship when Cass is unquestioningly Nesta's by the end of ACOSF.

Instead, here's why the lack of things utterly lining up for these three doesn't bother me in the long run, and only slightly bothered me during the pre-ACOSF / post-ACOFAS era.

It is clear to me as a reader that SJM pivoted in a significant way between ACOMAF and ACOWAR when it comes to Mor.

I came across a post recently that explains exactly my thoughts on this. The post focuses on the current ship war but the evidence in it describes how during ACOMAF it was clear Moriel (Mor and Azriel) was likely to be endgame, but then SJM shifted Mor's arc to where she was more attracted to women, which meant needing to retcon a lot (and unfortunately a lot of Mor's charm and nuance was collateral damage that I am still hoping SJM repairs).

I think Cassian in ACOMAF needs to be read in the context of a planned future love triangle of sorts between Azriel-Mor-Cassian, into which I do think SJM planned to throw Nesta as a big bomb that beautifully blows up Cass's corner of the triangle. But the parts in "Wings and Embers" where Cass says to the reader he is worried about what Mor will think about his fixation on this human woman, I think were meant to preserve some kind of angsty triangle for the next book, which SJM (thankfully) jettisoned. I hate love triangles so I honestly would not have been a fan if that had been where SJM landed.

Now, in ACOWAR and ACOFAS, I think the Mor stuff with Cassian gets a bit more confusing, so I agree with you there. Cassian doesn't know for sure Nesta is his mate until she screams for him during the Battle of Hybern at the end of ACOWAR, so the stuff before that - e.g., him removing his hand from hers - I read in a few ways. I think being buffer to Mor with Azriel all those years messed with his head a lot, and in a way, Mor finally coming to terms with her sexuality is a really solid catalyst for her beginning to distance herself from the triangle dynamic she was a part of for 500 years, which I think was more healthy for everyone involved.

But remember, Nesta is still proud and surly in ACOWAR, not in any inherently bad way but in a way that probably didn't signal to Cassian she was particularly interested in him, even as he was drawn to her like a magnet and couldn't keep away because part of him loves her claws so much. Cass rightly protects his own heart when he has the foresight to do so in ACOWAR and ACOFAS. I always knew they would work their shit out eventually, but during the messy process of doing so I don't begrudge him a little distance when Nesta, in her trauma response to what was happening to her and around her, sometimes lashed out at the strongest individual in her vicinity who she knew could take it like a boulder weathers the storm - that person was always Cassian for her.

When I first read ACOSF, I absolutely assumed going in that Mor was going to be catty about Nessian finally starting to get together. When she wasn't, it was jarring to me. But once I finished my first reading of ACOSF, I came to a striking conclusion about Mor, ACOSF, and SJM:

The story SJM needed to tell in ACOSF would not have been aided or forwarded by Mor intervening in the Nessian dynamic in a catty way, or being a foil to anything about Nesta in that story's arc.

In other words, SJM could have written a version of Nesta and Cassian's book that included Mor challenging Nesta's right to be with Cassian, but that was unequivocally NOT the book SJM wanted or needed to write (hopefully my double negative landed correctly here, lol).

So, SJM pivoted, and sent Mor to Vallahan, so SJM could write the story she needed to write. As a writerly choice, I adore everything about it - Nesta didn't need to be fighting with another woman over rights to her mate, she needed women friendships that were pure and gloriously blank slates upon which and with whom to write and tell her and their collective story - so SJM introduced Emerie and Gwyn. SJM even brought in Mor later to teach Nesta the waltzes, and their brief exchange in which Nesta called her Morrigan and Mor invited her to call her Mor, and Nesta accepted the invitation to do so, is another breathtakingly vulnerable moment for Nesta that fills my heart right up. To this end, the promise that Mor will begin to train with the Valkyries in the next book has me so excited.

Now, there are two lines in ACOSF I still want to comment on (then I'll reign in this very long post, lol). First, I agree that Cassian's observation in his pov of how breathtakingly beautiful Mor is at the cafe toward the start of the book can come off romantic coded, though for him at this point I don't think it is. But whether it is or not, we need to remember he and Nesta still have a whole book's worth of stuff to work through with their romantic relationship.

I suspect SJM included that moment in part to set up some stakes for the Nessian arc - that, although Cassian hasn't had sex since he met Nesta, he is still a man who is drawn to admiring a beautiful woman inside and out. If Nesta had already won his exclusive attention in this regard before any of their arc began in that book, what would be the point of the book? (By the end, I do think Cassian only has eyes for Nesta, and it is absolutely because they claim each other - I don't think in the long run he would have been able to settle for less, and nor should he have.)

And, since Nessian aren't in a relationship at that point in the cafe at the beginning of the book, I'm not mad at him for admiring Mor's beauty per say. I think if Nesta invited it then, he would admire hers a lot more, and with a much more deep seated attraction. ACOSF is about them both letting their inner barriers down to allow the other to love them, so that kind of attraction still needs to be earned between them at that point in their story. His observation about Mor's beauty is in a different category entirely from where Cassian eventually lands with Nesta, so there is nothing threatening about it for me.

The other line that feels weird to me most times I read it, is when Mor baldly tells Nesta early in ACOSF that she would have sent Nesta to live in the Court of Nightmares. The only explanation I have for this moment and exchange is that for SJM it was more in service of Nesta's arc, and less about making sense coming from Mor. What I mean here is, at that moment Nesta feels wretched and all things terrible about herself, and it's a feature of that kind of disordered thinking that others around you either seem to echo what you're thinking about yourself, or sometimes do echo it in reality, if through a trauma response you've hurt those around you (*she says from personal experience*), or if through their own trauma response those around you respond in kind (as I think may have been happening with Mor in this scene).

Do I love that Mor says something so cruel to Nesta in that moment early in Nesta's healing journey? No, I do not. Do I see why it helps to heavily charge these early scenes for Nesta as she truly hits rock bottom regarding her feelings about herself? Yes, I do.

Which leads me to how I'll conclude this. I hope SJM intentionally develops Mor's story so she isn't just a device in the story arcs of others. For better or worse, some kind of reckoning between her and Az needs to happen, likely in the next book, for either to truly move on. But I hope Mor gets the attention a character like her deserves in future books.

I am A-OK with her mostly-absence from ACOSF because I don't think she would have been a productive part of Nesta's healing arc, and at the end of the day that is the heart and soul of ACOSF for me - Nesta healing.

The reason ACOSF-Nessian has my whole heart is because, it's so clear to me the ways Cassian supports Nesta's healing and is the catalyst for a lot of her growth into a person who loves herself and sees herself as worthy and deserving of love and happiness.

If he was a bit of a hot mess in the period between first meeting Nesta and getting to finally be with her as accepted mates, I don't begrudge him that.

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