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historiaxvanserra · 2 months

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These Violent Delights | Chapter Two

Summary: A High Lords meeting goes awry and you find yourself thrust into the foxes den.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (brief mentions of Azriel x reader)

Word Count: 6.4k

Chapter 1 of These Violent Delights on my Masterlist

The Hewn City’s state rooms are ugly, you think as you stalk the emissary of the Night Court through the winding, narrow corridors of Hewn City. The palatial chambers had been carved into the dark stone of the mountain by the Gods of old; and the high, domed ceilings are held in place by onyx pillars decorated with twisted carvings of beasts and fornicating demi-gods that line the Gothic archways.

Lurid, ill-fated omens, you think.

Harbingers of your undoing.

The emissary appointed with escorting you is adorned in ceremonial robes; a fine damask tunic in a deep indigo silk that is almost iridescent in the artificial light. You fall into step with him as he approaches a set of gilded iron gates. Two armored sentries fall into rank as you cross the threshold of the council chambers and you offer a courteous nod to the sentry as he meets your eye.

The antechamber of The Moonstone Palace is plunged in a suffocating blue-darkness with only the silvers of silver faelight, like artificial stars, to light the faces of the High Lords. The atmosphere is oppressive and the smell of hemlock and moonflowers stain the stagnant air. For a few moments, while you’re lost in thought, the world is silent and still. Feigning peace. But there is no peace. Not here, where the eyes of every High Lord in Prythian are upon you.

Hewn City is a dark mirage. A metropolis of hedonistic desire and vulgar frivolity

It is here in the dark that you find yourself adrift; lost somewhere to the sea of time. You abandon yourself to the tide of memory. The happy recollections of your childhood; to the thought of home. Someplace far from here, where the sunlight touches your skin and the smell of salt from the coast becomes tangled in your unbound hair. Somewhere, in the recesses of your mind, where you know your mothers love and your fathers face is something more than a mere memory.

It occurs to you that this is a home that never existed.

Home had always been burning; the acrid smell of woodsmoke beckons you like a funeral pyre and your salt-cracked lips chafe and bleed in the wake of blistering winds from the violent sea. And that’s the thing about mothers, you and she exist as some wretched mirror or one another; as hatred and guilt.

You’ve been thinking of your mother a lot as of late; something in your dreams, the echoing of a coming storm. A fine line between love and hate. It is something strange and prophetic that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably from your body.

In a flurry of movement against the black you are brought back to the present as you take your place amongst the ranks of the Inner Circle.

The silhouettes of the other High Lords, that had been flickering wildly against the dark stone of the mountain, cease to move. Cease to be, as shadows envelop the room, melting into the darkness as Rhysand glides into the room his violet eyes glinting in the dark. His eyes shine with a cold violence that draws you from thought and the visions of a home long forgotten turn to ashes in your trembling hands. He’s dressed all in black and violet, his tan skin looks pallid in the low light. By his side Feyre’s skin looks as though it is wreathed in starlight against the backdrop of the twilight-- you catch the scent of chamomile and moondust in the air.

It smells like Nyx you think, smiling lightly to yourself at the thought of your nephew.

A tremor of dark power ripples through the air and you feel the shift in the atmosphere when shield after shield locks into place around each High Lord and his retinue of courtiers. The shield that Rhysand had already placed around the Inner Circle; made stronger in response. Night magic glitters in the air like stardust and you swear you can taste it on your tongue. That same cold rage and an essence of icy violence fortifies you against the hostility in the room and you school your expression to remain neutral when you seek out a pair of strange amber eyes in the crowd.

A gentle warmth burns though your chest and your eyes scan the crowd.

Eris Vanserra moves like a predator; resolute and obstinate. Amber eyes burn like fire glow in the dim light and each of his long strides are punctuated by the echo of boot clad feet on the marble. In this light, his face is almost ethereal. Unearthly even. Set in a painfully neutral expression as he slinks through the halls of the city below the mountains of Velaris. Eris Vanserra burns bright against the other Lords of Pryhtian; his copper hair, like burnished gold in the dim lights, and his eyes. Those fucking eyes. Haunting and evocative as he meets your gaze with a feline smirk.

It is a wicked, false thing, that glitters with malice.

He watches you with a wrathful sort of reverence. He is so very lovely, even in the pallid light. Even as his father and brothers flank his sides like a pack of hungry foxes; hungry and baying for blood.

You watch him carefully as Eris takes his seat at the foot of the large black table, he’s careful to make a show of the way he languidly reclines in his chair, rolling his shoulders back and angling his hips in such a way that the whole room is displayed to him at once.

It’s almost voyeuristic in nature.

That summons a storm within you; a violent, lonely, sort of thing, that washes over him with the force of a raging tempest down the scarcely accepted bond and his eyes, glittering and amber in the dying light, finding yours again. For a moment, Eris Vanserra sees himself through your eyes; for the first time in centuries he doesn’t hate the man staring back at him.

By his side Eris’ mother’s skin looks as though it is wreathed in fireglow against the backdrop of the twilight-- you catch her dark glassy eyes and she smiles softly at you. There is a deep sorrow there, in the depths of The Lady of Autumn's eyes, that feel kindred to you.

A shared pain, perhaps.

Turning as Rhysand and Feyre push further into the darkness of the antechamber, you are drawn from thought once more.

The rest of The Night Court look like some savage celestial army as they enter on a night-kissed breeze. Cassian and Nesta look like warriors hardened by war and ruin, all dressed in black and faces coloured with cold caution. They’re followed by the Shadowsinger, who is shrouded in dark wisps of shadow and his skin glows golden against the dark. His face is set in an unreadable expression, though, when your eyes meet a flash of recognition flashes in those hazel eyes.

Rhysand stops dead in his tracks when he regards the High Lord of Autumn.

Beron Vanserra; cruel and tyrannical, keens when he notes the flash of surprise in Rhysand’s violet gaze. His eyes simmer with a dim fire as his eyes land on you. Beron’s teeth are like crow-picked bones as he offers you a feral smile.

“We weren’t expecting you, Beron.” Feyre’s voice is distant and cold as she speaks to the High Lord and his sons.

Rhysand rises to his feet from his throne, waving his hand to the attendants, “Fetch the High Lord and his Lady a seat.”

The attendant presents Beron with a chair and he settles between Helion and the Lady of Autumn, neither Helion nor the lady seem to acknowledge each other but you can feel the shift in their demeanors as Beron’s ire sparks in his eyes. He doesn’t even spare The Lady of Autumn a glance before he moves on to inspecting his fellow High Lords.

You pay Beron no heed and instead your eyes find the Lady of Autumn as she settles into her seat beside her husband and eldest son. The Lady of Autumn is like one of Feyre’s paintings; arresting and darkly beautiful. Her romantic eyes are shaded in the colors of sunset; a warm amber that looks almost golden in the low light and her dark auburn hair glitters in the dying fireglow and her eyes-- so rich that you get lost in their glassy depths. Those haunting eyes. They’re Eris’ eyes you realize as they meet yours. Though she doesn’t linger long she gives you a soft smile before returning her gaze to her long slender fingers that twitch in her lap. They’re adorned with many gold rings and crystals that she wears like armor to fortify her against the hostile atmosphere.

You see something of yourself in her you think, looking down to your own attire. An opulent and finely boned corset, cinched so tight, that even breathing feels like a luxury and the heavy black damask that covers you in swathes of pleated fabric acts as barrier between yourself and the many eyes in the room that trail over you without care or warning.

“Nor was I expecting to be here,” Beron drawls, “But alas, it seems we have business to discuss.” Beron’s fire rages dangerously against the black. Torrid and angry, his face unflinching and cruel as he turns his gaze upon Rhysand. Something treacherous passes between the two High Lords at that moment and something in your chest begins to stir like a storm inside of you.

A warning of a coming storm.

“Rumor claims that your allegiances are elsewhere, these days.” It is your voice that counters and Beron croons. The High Lord of Autumn assesses you keenly, his gaze shifting-- from the darkness of your eyes-- down. To the sulk of your lips. Further still to the exposed slope of your shoulders and coming to rest on your chest, where the swell of your breasts spills over the corseted bodice of your gown. His eyes darken luridly as his eyes meet yours again. Beron Vanserra scrutinizes every minute detail of your dark armor; every errant hair, every nervous twitch of your jaw, every flutter of your dark lashes.

It’s disarming the smile that spreads across his handsome face and his eyes shine with a maniacal sort of joy that sparks a wave of fury that runs through you like water-- and you swear you can feel Eris’ own fiery rage in answer.

“And what would you know of my allegiances, girl?” The false smile he offered is soon replaced with a deep loathing in Beron’s eyes that practically burns through you.

In a way, it feels strangely comforting to feel his ire.

To feel anything at all that isn’t paralyzing dread or hirearth for a home to which you will never return.

Helion waves a scar-flecked hand in front of him, “Let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

The High Lord of Day glows with the radiance of the golden sun and he looks at you with such a strange mixture of boredom and curiosity that almost seems like reverence. He doesn’t dare look at The Autumn Lady in her seat though you notice the careful glances she makes towards him in those spaces between the seconds when no one is paying much heed.

“I know you met with rhe Prince of Rask.” you say and all the idle chatter in the room dies at once. “And he’s working with the Koschei, isn’t he?”

Beron opens his mouth and you brace yourself for the torrid flames of his wrath. You see the violent delight dance across Beron’s eyes and Rhysand just holds his stare. Hold it with a face like icy death. And beneath the surface you see untempered wrath as it ripples beneath his carefully curated mask. A sharp pain in your chest has you seeking out Eris at his father’s side. His face is the picture of cataclysmic rage; writhing and burning in those eyes.

To anyone else Eris Vanserra is the image of infernal rage. A righteous son to a wronged father. But to you-- all his fear comes home to you.

A warning fire.

“Never mind, we can discuss the happy news of your heir’s birth another time,” Beron smiles again at Rhysand and Feyre. It is Feyre who regards him with a snarling fury at the mention of the son she had almost died to bring into the world.

She would give her life again if only to protect him from the clutches of a tyrant like Beron. Of that you were certain.

“I believe we have business to discuss?” Beron questions again when no one responds to his taunt.

All the eyes in the room turn to you when you loose a laugh, “I didn’t realize we were in the business of discussing plans with our enemies.”

Eris Vanserra looks as though he might just vault over the table and silence you himself. His eyes smoulder in the dark and the scathing look he sends your way is enough to make you weak in the knees.

“Make no mistake girl,” Beron muses, his eyes sparking with feral delight, “I am not your enemy,”

“You are advised to keep it that way.”

In that moment you are bereft of every thought and sound in your mind as the room stills.

Rhysand and Feyre falter and look between you and The High Lord of Autumn-- and his heir.

Your mate.

Eris himself remains poised, his fingers wrapped around the arm of the chair, the wood straining under his cruel grip until his knuckles turn as pale as the sea foam that swirls atop the Sidra.

It is the Shadowsinger who rises from his seat in response, “Threaten her again, old man-- I dare you.” Azriel’s voice wraps round you like cold death and you can’t help but stare impassively as he places his body between yours and Beron. The flicker of flame is smothered by Azriel’s darkness.

Beron sits in his chair without so much as a word. Though you see the taunt in his eyes as he looks at you again. Azriel’s imposing figure still stands over you, a scarred hand that strokes languid circles into the skin of your shoulder. The bond in your chest hums violently.

“Call off your dog, Rhysand.” Eris’ voice is dangerously low as he eyes Azriel.

Rhys shrugs, smiling faintly “Very well,” he muses.

Azriel takes his seat beside you, though his scarred fingers remain fixed on the arm of your chair.

“Tell me, Azriel?” Eris laughs coldly, his voice devoid of any humor and he opens his mouth to speak, “Does it pain you knowing that both of your brothers have been given a sister as a mate?”

“And yet the Mother still deems you unworthy of a Mate -- desitined to pity fuck the spare sister.” Eris muses with a lilt of his voice when he realizes he has the upperhand.

A twinge of heat in your chest from the bond makes your scowl deepen.

Azriel blinks at first, his face twisting in rage before rising to his feet once more, barrelling over the table with an inhuman growl. Azriel grips Eris by the lapels of his emerald tunic. Coming together in flashes of flame and smoke as they struggle against one another. Eris swings a leg over Azriel’s thigh bringing them both tumbling to the floor, while the other High Lords watch on with varying degrees of amusement and frustration on their faces.

Your face heats under the scrutiny. Unable to move or speak-- your stormy facade rendered useless as the tears begin to well in your eyes.

You are a storm-- but in the face of their wrath there is naught you can do but watch and abide.

Rhysands commanding voice cuts through Azriel’s cursing and Eris’ insults. The room falls silent as the males pull away from one another. Azriel’s nose is bloodied and his hair falls around his face in messy strands. Eris’ lip is split, spilling crimson along the column of his throat. You trace the line of scarlet as the droplets stain the neckline of his white shirt. You can hear his heartbeat as it flutters wildly. His eyes meet yours and a look of resignation and shame crosses them for a moment; obscuring the perfect amber of his gaze.

Azriel wipes his blood on his leathers; wears it like armor as he turns to Eris “Something to remember me by.”

Azriel spits the words like venom at Eris whose face radiates with a dark and fiery wrath.

Feyre looks between the two males and then to you; her face softens then as she regards you. Your hands shaking wildly, and a heartbeat like an echoing war drum, the bond in your chest singing a mournful song as it rages inside you.

You look utterly devastated.

She’s not used to seeing that kind of defeat on the face of her elder sister; the sister who had weathered so much, always headstrong and ardent, who had suffered every injustice with a straight face-- she hadn’t quite prepared herself for the type of sorrow that realization would bring with it.

Taking in the scene unfolding before you-- the descent into violence and the blood that pools like rubies at Eris Vanserra’s feet you loose a shaky breath. “Enough--enough” You wave your hands between Azriel and Eris.

The males both take a tentative step away from one another and further from you.

“Who shares my bed is of little concern, I assure you, My Lord,” You insist firstly, setting your shoulders straight and facing them now with all the stormy determination you can feign in that moment, “from what I’ve heard you yourself have quite curious bedfellows.”

Beron sneers and scoffs from his seat at the foot of the table at the insult. A lie, at that. If anyone does share Eris Vanserra’s bed they are a mystery to you.

“Preferring the company of hounds - or so I am told.” Azriel adds.

And in truth you and Azriel haven’t so much as locked eyes since that night in Hewn City. After the mating bond between you and Eris had made its home in your chest you hadn’t been able to think about anyone or anything else.

Just him. And those amber eyes.

“We are here because once more someone is threatening the tenuous peace we have established here,” Helion nods his head thoughtfully and Thesan, who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal looks at you with genuine encouragement and utters his agreement. Kallias and Vivianne remain silent and imposing on the other side of the table.

“It is our duty-- our privilege-- to ensure Prythian and its people are not ravaged by war again.” You look to Kallias then, unimpressed by the needless violence that had passed but somehow enamored by your words.

“Hyburn took so much from us-- from all of us.” You say, gesturing around the table and the High Lord’s faces are all shaded in sympathy and regret for all they had lost, “and Amarantha made slaves of you all.”

You cast a glance to your sister; who had fought and died for these great men and their courts. And to Rhysand who had subjected himself to being her plaything. Something like grief flashes in those violet eyes that sparks a storm in you.

“I will not be a slave again,” You vow and you notice then how all the High Lords seem rapt withal as you speak to them, and the storm inside you rages on, “to anyone.”

The tensions around the table seem to dissipate when Helion raises a chalice and smirks fondly at you and it seems that they see you as more than a bed warmer to a dark God or the mate of some High Lord’s heir. Talons scrape menacingly along your mental shields and Rhysand’s dark presence makes itself known to you. Bed warmer? Darling you are a storm-- everyone here knows it.

A force to be reckoned with.

The rest of the meeting seems to come to pass as intended, laborious hours of negotiating and political games as you come to terms with each High Lord in turn. By the time the moon hangs in the sky like cut quartz, almost all of the High Lords have already departed, leaving only The High Lord of Spring and The Autumn Court’s entourage.

“Where did you find this one, Rhysand?” Tamlin asks, his tone measured and light.

Rhysand looks between Feyre and you smiling lightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he opens his mouth to speak.

“I heard they found her in a Hyburn cell, after the war was over.” It is Beron Vanserra’s voice that cuts in, “what was left of her anyway.”

“Perhaps we should be asking where your loyalties lie?” It’s the middle Vanserra brother that speaks. His russet curls glow warm in the dim lights and his stare is cruel and malignant as he hones in on you.

“Hyburn whore” It’s whispered, accusatory, on an inhale of breath.

They way it is uttered with an air of repulsion and venom reminds you of those stories told in human villages; of woods women named ‘witch’ by those who do not understand.

People fear what they do not understand.

It seems that Fae are no different than mere mortals in that respect.

“You’d be wise to bite your tongue, brother.” Eris’s voice is a cold echo as all thought and sound eddies out of your mind. Flashes of black and gold as the visions come back to you; those days spent cowering in the darkness of your cell, your feral anger directed at any man who came too close-- all biting fury, canines and claws, and the screams they tore from your like the howling wind over a violent sea.

A fury spreads through you, taking root in the dark caverns of your chest, slowing your heartbeat to a dull aching thud as you lose yourself to it; give yourself over to the tempest of emotion that courses through you. You try to fight it as the first ebbs of that dangerous storm embrace you. Lest you surrender yourself to the tempest; let it open you up and pour out into the world in floods of ravaging power.

It brings forth a storm the likes of which the world has never seen; a thing of ugly rage.

You were born angry, your mother had told you once.

But rage is a learned thing. Your rage. It had been your mother’s first, before that it had her mothers, and her mother before her.

It is an inherited curse; a wicked and wretched thing.

It is a storm enough to drown in.

A howling wind whips around you and for a moment you are standing at a great precipice. From the cliff’s edge, peering down at a violent sea as it coils and breaks against the jagged cliff face of some distant shore, where the world looks as though it is dappled in fireglow, the smell of woodsmoke and bonfires wafts from inland. The sea-soaked wind is so palpable that you taste its salt-kiss on your lips with the ardent fervor of the most savage lover.

There is something sacred in salt, you think.

For a moment you consider what it would feel like; to plummet into the watery abyss. How the sunlight would look as it fractures and splinters on the water's violent surface.

How it might cascade into the murky green depths. A secret held between you and the sea.

“My Lady,” It is Eris’ voice, practically feral and dripping with an aching desperation as he all but vaults around the corner of the dark wood table, parting his brothers with a rehearsed type of brutality as he claws his way to you. His commanding aura draws you closer to him and his pale hand offers a strong and comforting weight on your arm as he takes your trembling palm in his rough hold.

“You’re bleeding,” Eris says, cupping your palm into a fist with his own, applying light pressure to the wound while he assesses it. Turning it over in his tentative grasp. Through your lashes you take a moment to assess him as he towers over you. He’s tall and much broader than you remember but he moves with an inhuman grace. His nose is long and straight and his jaw strong and regal. His amber eyes linger dangerously over the hand cupped in his own. You hadn’t even realized you had stood up. Nor had you registered the blood you had drawn from your own palms until you see the crescent moons, indented in the tender flesh, like a taunt as they stain Eris’ fingertips scarlet as he presses the fabric of his handkerchief to your grazed hand.

“It’s nothing, My Lord,” You say softly, your voice low and you feel his eyes burning into yours; it is a slow, searing ache that almost feels like a kiss. A fragile thing, full of reverence and a strange tenderness. A vein of hurt throbs through you, quickly soothed by the press of his palm to yours.

Eris Vanserra holds a power over you; commands you in a way that should feel unpleasant. The knowledge that you would give yourself over to him if only he asked.

“It is only a little blood.” The words live and die on tongue, they fizzle out just as soon as they are uttered before he is calling for Rhysand -- his voice is swallowed by the din and your heartbeat echoes like a wardrum in your ears and the sound of the violet sea breaks against you and you feel your body go lax.

You wait for the dull ache as your body meets the cool marble of the floor only it never comes; instead your weight is suspended in the embrace of Eris Vanserra’s arms, you vaguely hear your name from his lips before the world turns to darkness.

You feel like lull of his heartbeat as he brings you closer against his chest.

The smell of cedar and smoked bergamot follows you into the abyss.

The room seems to come back to you like the tide; swiftly and cruelly as it materializes before you. It comes back in flashes of the dark; the oppressive pillars of dark marble that hold the domed, onyx ceiling in place, the silver fae lights like pallid stars and the visage of contorting demons and chimera’s like half formed ghosts.

“What happened?” You ask looking around the darkened council chambers; once filled with the idle chatter of courtiers and High Lord’s and their entourage now only the Inner Circle is gathered in the darkness contained between these walls.

And Eris.

He burns golden against the black.

“Well one thing is for certain,” It is Morrigan who stands over you, her shoes shine like rubies in the low light, “You know how to make a scene.” Her voice is light and jovial, laced with concern.

“You fainted,” Feyre says plainly as she sinks to her knees before you. It is then you feel Eris’ solid frame as he radiates warmth behind you, where you are propped against his chest. Your body feels foreign and unlike your own as you move, transferring your weight from his arms and into the arms of Feyre who helps you stand on uncertain feet.

“I’m sorry,” You say earnestly to both Rhysand and Feyre and turning to Eris again to mutter your thanks. He looks displeased at that. The distance between your body in his, the unfamiliarity you regard him with as if you hadn’t just allowed yourself to revel in the feel of his arms wrapped securely around you. “I’m sorry.”

“You should return to your father, My Lord.” You laugh humorlessly, using the hand that isn’t wrapped tightly around the lip of the chair to smooth a hand down the pleats of your gown reflexively.

A knock, resounding and resolute echoes through the chamber and the Inner Circle seem to bristle at the intrusion. Through the blanket of the dark a figure emerges; Keir stands tall with an air of arrogance about him as he steps into the antechamber. His hair is dark and graying and his face, though handsome, has begun to show signs of age. His eyes glitter menacingly as he finds you amongst the inner circle.

“My apologies for the intrusion, High Lord.” Keir says, his voice full of dark promise as a second figure steps from the shadow, “but it appears there is a rather urgent matter that has come to our attention.”

The rooms seems steeped in solemn silence as Beron Vanserra reveals himself through the din; dressed in fine merlot robes and embroidered with gold threads and leaves. He looks like Autumn personified. All fire and wrath as he stalks into the room.

“It appears you have been keeping secrets from me, Rhysand.” Rhys takes a step forward approaching Beron with little regard for the fury that burns behind his hazel eyes. The High Lord of Night laughs cruelly as Beron advances further into the room, seeking out his son, who reaches for you almost without thinking. His fingers flex around your forearm and push you further into Feyre as he steps in front of you both subtly.

Beron looks suspiciously between the three of you.

Beron smiles.

It is not a thing of fondness or affection-- It is dark and laden with malevolence. A whisper of amusement lights in his golden irises and Eris feels like a boy again; alone and afraid as the shadows of his fathers wrath descend upon him.

“You knew,” The High Lord of Autumn charges forward, tearing through Azriel and Cassian, as he raves. His voice is dangerously low and full of malice as he advances towards Eris. His eyes blaze against the dark as he casts his wicked gaze upon his eldest son.

“You knew,” He repeats frantically, “That whore is your mate, and you lied to me.”

Accusatory.

Without thought or care, Eris lunges forward and takes one long stride so that his body shields yours from Beron’s grasp as his fire burns vengeful and angry as it bands around Eris’s arms. The putrid smell of burned flesh brings bile rising in your throat and you feel Rhysand’s shields fortify around you and the rest of the Inner Circle in response.

You wait for someone to do something, but as is the nature of these things Rhysand is not permitted to interfere in the affairs of other courts. And whether he likes it or not, Eris is subject to his High Lord and father.

And as it stands he is a traitor to both.

Eris falls to his knees before you and you feel the bond die in your chest; his scream is something akin to dying. It sears through you, burning like fire until you feel like a phoenix rising from its own ashes as your body moves of its own volition.

“Stop, stop!” You plead with Beron advancing a pace towards him as you pull away from Feyre’s secure hold. Not even Cassian dares hold you back when you claw your way from the safety of his arms, “Please, he didn’t know.”

Beron pays you no heed as his wrath brings Eris to his knees.

“Please.” you beg, your voice aching and angry as you address the High Lord, ignoring the warnings of Azriel and Cassian, “He didn’t know.”

“W-we hid it from him.” Your lie desperately, your voice though strained comes out in violent waves of anger as Beron continues to inflict his fire upon Eris.

Your mate.

In a desperate bid to spare him you beg once more.

“Please, whatever you want, you can have it, I swear it.” And all the fire ceases.

Eris heaves a heavy breath and he collapses in a swath of burnished gold and emerald, strewn lazily against the marble. You sink to your knees beside him, his hands, though shaking, are firm against you as they grasp at the many layers of your skirts as he hoists himself up. Even on his knees he towers over you. His hair drapes like spidersilk over one side of his sculpted face as he peers down at you with dark amber eyes. Despite all the eyes in the room Eris brings a tentative hand to cup your cheek and all his remorse and grief flood down the bond that runs golden and brilliant from your body to his; as if to say no use hiding now, little fox.

Eris rises to his feet before his father who looks on with a mixture of feral delight and complete apathy as Eris’ pain subsides.

Keir retreats into the shadows and with him the air shifts; the room, once shaded in the smell of hemlock and moonflowers, is tainted with something more. Something darker. Earthy.

The smell of wildflowers; smoke-kissed juniper and foxglove, all undercut with the smell of salt and iron.

It occurs to you then that it is the smell of your mating bond.

Beron loses a dark laugh and approaches you slowly, like a predator circles its prey. Deliberate and calculating as he takes your chin in his bony fingers and commands you to look at him. His eyes are much darker than Eris’, so dark that they almost look black in this light and even in his age you admire their depths, haunting and arresting. Beron cuts an intimidating figure, you think as he flashes you a smile that is all Eris.

You sometimes forget how alike father and son are; though Eris is undoubtedly more striking; with his strange amber eyes and baring a broader physique than his father, with strong arms and shoulders and that beautiful copper hair which he had inherited from his mother.

“Anything I want?” Beron muses deathly quiet as he brings you closer to him, so close that the heat of his breath against your face causes chills to rise along the skin of your arms and neck.

“Anything, that is within my power to give.” You clarify, unwilling to be tricked into a more heinous bargain than you had prepared yourself for. Feyre protests loudly, calling your name, begging you to see reason though her pleas are useless against the thunder of your heart in your chest; like the sound of a storm rolling in from the sea.

Rhysand holds his wife by her forearms as she attempts to fight her way to your side.

A bargain offered of your own volition cannot be undone or unmade.

All that’s left to do is come to terms.

Beron smiles again, a saccharine smile that turns your stomach as his free hand cups your hip harshly, his brows rise in question and you realize how he’s looking right through you to his son who stands defeated behind you.

“And if I want you?” You swallow hard as his hand on your hip tightens to a bruising grip.

The High Lord of Night protests and a dark ripple of power separates you and Beron, you stumble backwards until you’re pressed up against the dark wood table as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Beron laughs playfully and raises his hands in mock surrender to Rhysand. Keir smiles with a sense of sick satisfaction as Beron nods for Eris to join him.

Eris joins his father on the side of the room and Beron inspects him in carefully; scrutinizes every furrow of his brow or the tick of his jaw as charred flesh gives way to pale unblemished skin.

Beron claps a hand over his son's shoulder and offers his half-hearted explanation.

Filling his ear with poison.

“Your mate has deceived you, my son; she is yours by right,” Beron preens like an over-satisfied cat, offering a wave of his hand as he gestures to you, “Is she not?”

Eris swallows thickly and through the bond you can feel his wrath as it burns silent and deadly through you. His fire burns ferocious and wild. Dark and untamed. It ignites a similar storm in the pit of your stomach as Eris regards you with feigned malice much to the appeasement of his father.

His gaze, once soft and vulnerable, is cold and predatory as he takes his time to trail over the swell of your chest and the curve of your hips like a hungry animal.

“She is,” His voice is sharp-edged as he nods impassively to his father, the glimpses of his true self now little more than a trick in the light as he adorns his facade like a suit or armor to spare him his father’s fire.

“You mean to claim her?” Eris questions pointedly. Eris’ eyes move around the room with a careful, almost pensive, precision.

He can’t pretend that he doesn’t want it. Some primal, territorial part of him wants it more than anything. It’s animalistic and carnal.

Wholly perverse.

He wants you, terribly; he aches for you in a way that he has never ached for anything.

And you want him.

But not like this.

Not as a pretty pawn to bring him to heel.

“She will do well in Autumn,” Beron says in lieu of an answer.

Rhysand and Feyre stand firm against the hostility in the room even as Beron approaches them once more. “An alliance between our two most ancient and noble courts,” Beron says in a celebratory manner, his arms outstretched in a show of arrogance, “made strong by the oaths that you will swear to my son and my court.”

“Very well, High Lord.” You acquiesce and Beron smiles as his words hit their mark

You swear that Eris could burn the city to ash then and something in him cools then under your watchful gaze; it burns blue under the surface and you can see it tempering to a cold unmoving stare cast in his father’s direction.

It’s grotesque, the anger that runs hot in his veins that sears its kiss into the place where your body and his are joined.

You seethe. A raging tempest that comes off of you in violent waves of temper that threaten to swallow the room whole. And Beron Vanserra with it. It is almost enough to bring you to your knees before him as your skin burns under his rising fury.

Your eyes meet the strange amber eyes of Eris Vanserra at his father’s side and you think then, that you will happily suffer his fire if burning always feels so profound.

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #pro eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fic #eris headcanons #eris vandaddy

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prythianpages · 4 months

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Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.

The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.

It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.

As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.

A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.

“Breathe, darling.”

His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart.

Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.

“y/n!”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.

“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”

All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.

“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”

Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.

“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”

“Where are you from?”

Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.

“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”

You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.

“And what of her skill?”

“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low.

“You’re coming with me.”

You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses.

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe.

But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.

It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness.

You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion.

There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.

Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.

A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.

“–was ambushed by dark forces–”

“–never seen so much blood–”

“–I should make haste then–”

“–he only wants y/n–”

Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.

"The High Lord requests your presence.”

Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.

There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.

His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.

“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.

The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.

Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.

Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”

“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”

You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.

“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.

“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs.

“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”

“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”

“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.

"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”

"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”

Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.

The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.

"I think I might be in love with you."

The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.

The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was.

To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.

A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse.

Rhysand's POV

Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.

There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.

A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.

“Breathe, darling.”

His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.

He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.

He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.

a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #acotar rhysand #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff

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purple-writer8 · 14 days

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Closure - ACOTAR

Rhysand x Dawn Court Reader (past relationship), Azriel x Dawn Court Reader?

“I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life, staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

warnings: past relationships, toxic dynamics, a bit of angst, not much tbh

1,176 words

Masterlist :)

He had a mate. A mate.

What were you supposed to do? You had gone back to Velaris as soon as Amarantha’s reign ended, you were so excited to see your lover again— your Rhysand. You greeted your older brother, Thesan, with a huge hug when he came back to the Dawn Court. Then you winnowed away, back to Velaris, to the place you hadn’t seen in fifty long years.

You were not Under The Mountain. You had been visiting your brother at his palace when everything went south, and he used his last shred of power to command you to guard the small village near the palace, and that you did. Furthermore, you lost your friends, lost your brother, and lost your lover.

You had been in a rather weird situationship with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, for ninety years prior to his imprisonment. You loved him. The Cauldron knew that you loved Rhysand, that he was your everything. He was not your mate, but what you felt for him was strong.

It was never healthy, you knew, and he knew. You two met in a ball thrown by Thesan for your birthday a century ago. You were smitten with the fearsome High Lord, and he was instantly attracted to your golden skin and chocolaty brown hair. A decade passed, and he invited you to Velaris, his guarded and secret city— you swore to keep it from Thesan, and the rest was history.

You forged a life in the Night Court, barely ever visiting your home court and your brother. You adored Rhysand with your entire being. Not only that, but you wanted to marry him, wanted to be his lady— but Rhysand could never commit to that.

He let you move into his home, let you meet those who he called family, let you do what you pleased in his city— but never truly let you in. When you pushed for his commitment, everything always blew up. You two would fight endlessly, then make up.

And you stayed. You loved him, worshiped the ground he walked on. So when he was taken Under the Mountain, it broke you.

When he was released, your heart was instantly fixed again. You winnowed straight to his home, and everything was fine. He seemed happy to see you, until a woman started showing up. A human, beautiful, made into a new fae— the cursebreaker.

It took little for you to notice that Rhysand no longer felt anything for you. No, because he had found his mate. After hearing him call her exquisite at Starfall, you left back to your home court. He didn’t even care, he had already pushed a sea between the two of you.

You heard many things about the two of them, the latest being told to you by your brother. “She is his High Lady,” he would tell you after coming back from the High Lord’s meeting— a meeting held at your own home, though you did not attend.

Now you sat on your balcony, holding a letter written to you by the very High Lord that broke your heart. A tear slipped down your cheek as you saw the shape of his name, your heart still aching for him— only ever him.

It was a stupid letter, inviting you back to the Night Court to ‘mend relationships’, claiming his Inner Circle missed you. You knew the truth, though, he did not want to mend anything with you. No, he was smoothing you over.

After you moved back home, you told Thesan everything— and as your protective older brother, he was not pleased with how Rhysand had handled you. After disagreements with the Dawn Court, you knew that Rhysand only wanted to be in your good graces again just so Thesan would lay off him.

You clenched your fist around the parchment angrily when a gust of power hit your balcony. A scowl crawled into your face when you took in the Night Court’s Spymaster standing there, intruding into your palace uninvited.

“Yes, I got his letter,” you said in a disdainful manner. You knew that he only came to push you, sent by Rhysand.

Azriel eyed you, his hazel eyes skimming over your frame quickly. “How did you know that is what I came for?”

“I know Rhysand, and I know he is scrambling to get back on Thesan’s good side,” you reply in a simple manner. Azriel pressed his lips together and leans on the balcony’s railing, staring off into the sky.

His shadows are gentle but present, they reach for you because they know you— but he reels them back in, “you know he never meant to hurt you. He feels bad for everything.”

“He feels guilty, he is reaching out across the sea that he himself put between us,” you say in a snarky manner. You do not care about making amends, do not care for Rhysand and Thesan’s relationship. “It’s fucking fake, Azriel, and unnecessary.”

“Come on, he means well,” he says, turning back to you with sorrowful eyes. It almost is like he really cares about you.

“He does?” You gasp in a sarcastic manner.

“Did he mean well when he made me believe we were fine after he came back Under the Mountain? Did he mean well when he laid with me every time he knew that Feyre was laying with Tamlin? He could have let me know right away that he had a mate, but he didn’t. He used me to soothe his pain, then dropped me as soon as she gave him the time of day.” Azriel stilled as you ranted.

His shadows had told him you were still hurting, his shadows cared— for reasons unbeknownst to him— they cared for you deeply.

You and Azriel got along just fine. You guys were not close by any means, but he liked you— he thought you were kind and caring. You always used to massage his hand’s scars when the cold weather made them crack to the point they hurt. You treated him with kindness for all the years you knew him.

You never really thought much about the shadowsinger. He was a friend, an acquaintance in the court you used to thrive in. “Are you doing better?” Azriel asked, his voice a soft caress as his hazel eyes burned into hers.

A cold draft of wind blew through the balcony, your hair wildly covering your face. You groaned, trying to tame your unruly strands. Azriel could not hold back the shadow that lunged forward, the shadow that tucked your hair behind your ear in a swift and gentle motion.

A smile graced your lips, his shadows were always so kind to you. And that is when he knew.

His shadow coiled around your neck, you laughed and looked back at Azriel. You frowned, as his face was one of pure shock. He stumbled backwards, slinking his shadow back to his body. “Az-”

He was gone before you could even utter out his name.

Part 2

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littlestarlightseverywhere · 5 months

Text

Sunkissed

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The inner circle goes on holiday and Azzie is just allllll over his girl <3

Warnings: None

Notes: Thank you so much for all the love on my last story!

Image Credit: Pinterest

“It’s my pleasure,” Helion smirked, addressing the crowd with his words yet focusing his eyes on her. His brown skin reflected golden in the sun, the white cloth of his draped garment seeming to glow with it.

“Ever the generous host you are, Helion,” She played along for fun, the nature– and limits– of their flirty yet friendly relationship barely a secret.

“I wouldn’t dare displease you,” Helion purred. “You shouldn’t want for anything here. Just say the words, darling, and I’ll personally take care of it.”

Azriel was not the jealous type. He knew the effect he had on her, even all this time, and knew even better the effect she still had on him. It was like no time had passed since they’d been newly mated. His skin flushed as he recalled that initial period, how love-drunk he’d been, truly sated for the first time in his life by her burning affection, having his fill of her taste, and touch, and beautiful mind yet never getting enough of it at the same time.

He was a fool when it came to her, his brothers knew it, she knew it, and Azriel himself would not deny it either.

Yet his skin tightened over his bones and his shirt collar constricted the base of his thick neck ever so slightly as he walked behind her, watching Helion’s eyes trace her form, catching at her collarbones. The thought of him, another male, trying to provide for her, meet her every need, giving her anything… Azriel’s blood boiled. That was his place. He watched as his mate laughed dismissively, unobservant of Helion’s intense gaze.

She was beautiful, charming, and witty. No one could deny it. Rhys did not make her his foreign advisor for no reason. Azriel was quite used to people staring and trying to win her affections, but usually it never bothered him. Because at the end of the day, it was his ears that heard her thoughts and secrets, his eyes that watched her take on the world with grace and strength, and it was his bed they shared every night. He felt secure in their bond and she only had eyes for him, despite the entire world trying to court her at any given moment.

Mor and Feyre shared an amused, knowing glance at each other, studying the three as Rhys took over the conversation.

Helion led the group to his private lake just behind his palace. He was gracious in allowing the Inner Circle to have their summer holiday at his place in the Day Court, granting them access to his entire estate and anything on it for as long as they wished. “There are no such things as debts or favors when it comes to friends,” he said when he offered the location to Rhys in the first place.

The lake was downright gorgeous. Velaris was beautiful, but the Sidra could not compare to the Day Court’s waters even on its best day, a truth Azriel had kept to himself and Cassian had no problem voicing to Rhys. Its turquoise waters stretched for miles and miles, the sandy floor, algae, and tiny native fish visible through the watery looking glass. The palace sat behind them, watching protectively over its best-kept secret, and a vast expanse of green mountains rose on either side, their jagged edges softened by the lush native trees and vegetation. They curved around the lake the same way the gold of a crown hugs its jewel, enclosing it tightly in its earthy palm. Flowers trailed from the balcony down to the beach, the mud and sand padding the rock where the water met the earth. Blankets and a large wicker picnic basket lay ready on the beach.

Mor grabbed her and Feyre in her either of hands and dragged them down to the beach in a giddy, childish run. Azriel’s guiding, protective hand that had been poised at the small of her back suddenly felt cold at the fingertips as she was whisked away, her warm skin no longer close enough to soothe his skin like a balm.

He watched as she shed her clothes, throwing them haphazardly across the blankets. She laughed as Mor threw her dress over the picnic basket and picked out the gold pins in her hair, one by one, letting them land where they wanted to.

Azriel’s cheeks burned and his heart hammered with desire as he watched her shimmy out of her clothing, exposing her soft skin to the touch of the sun. The two-piece swimming slip adorned her curves so perfectly, like the garment was in love with its wearer. He’d picked it out for her. Her hair caught the breeze like something out of a novel and he swore he could smell her soap on the breeze even from all the way over where he was. Everytime he looked at her he felt like he was taking her in for the first time all over again. Part of him almost wanted to turn away with how difficult he suddenly found it to breathe, but he reminded himself with giddy disbelief, she’s mine.

“Easy,” Cassian muttered with a smirk, scenting him.

Azriel cleared his throat and Rhys sent him a boyish smile while continuing his conversation with Helion. Nesta and Amren joined the girls getting ready to get into the water while Elain and Varian settled on the blankets, books in each of their laps.

Mor was the first in the water, squealing at the sensation of it, cold at first, but warming to a luxurious temperature almost immediately. She laced her fingers with Feyre’s and they immediately followed Mor, throwing their heads back and laughing.

She savored the feel of the water against her skin, letting herself melt into its grasp and flow, letting it spread her hair behind her back and thread its liquid fingers through her strands. She submerged herself, gliding through the water until she was further out than anyone else. She’d waited for this holiday even before she knew they were going. She adored swimming, but there weren’t too many spots to do so in Velaris. In the water like this, enveloped in the lapping, balmy embrace of its ripples, she was at peace. Squealing, she beckoned the rest of the girls towards her, waving to Azriel from where he stood smiling like an idiot at her on the beach. He was shirtless now, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Azriel thought the sun complemented her skin, but in her eyes, it downright worshiped his. A glow even brighter than Helion’s overly-dramatic gold crown beamed from every inch of his body, tan and beautiful, broad and strong. She needed him in the water now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a splash of water to her face. She gasped and laughed at the unexpected sensation, Mor and Feyre giggling like schoolgirls at their mischief.

Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel settled back into the blankets, supporting themselves with elbows that dug divots in the sand.

“Did you ever imagine this life for us?” Cassian asked his brothers as each of them watched their mates in the water.

They rarely got a holiday, and it was even more rare that they allowed themselves to take one if they had the time. Of course, it was Rhys that encouraged this outing in the first place. When Azriel and Amren refused, he required it, as their High Lord, to take the holiday with everyone else.

That wasn’t what convinced Azriel, though. It was his mate's excited chatter about the prospect of the holiday at Helion’s lake with all of their friends, getting to spend time with each other outside of Velaris, visiting another court without the prospect of war hovering over them, being able to swim for the first time in so long. She could hardly wait to feel the water on her skin, to feel the sun on her face, and to spend time with Azriel, experience a new place together. He couldn’t say no as he sat back on their bed and watched her try on her new swimming slips for him, as she packed their bags so early in advance because she could hardly wait.

No, Azriel would not take this vacation because of Rhys’ orders as High Lord of the Night Court, but because it made his soulmate so unbelievably happy. That was all the reason he needed.

Azriel shook his head. “I never would have expected it to be this good. Every day feels like I’m waking up in a dream when she’s next to me.”

His brothers could not even ridicule him for his uncharacteristic sappiness. None of them expected to have mates, let alone be so loved by them, when they were just three boys in a war camp deep in the Illyrian mountains. They did not dare to imagine anything about their future for fear of never seeing it. An rough-and-ready lordling and two bastards. What odds.

Life wasn’t always perfect– there would always be Hybern and their human sympathizers, and probably a hundred other things, to worry about. But with their loves in their lives and talks of starting families, they supposed it was as close to perfect as the Cauldron would allow.

The women spent some time in the water, swimming, splashing, lounging, and talking with their mates watching them as they talked amongst themselves. When they decided to get out to eat, Feyre challenged them all to a race.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Feyre raised her brows at Azriel’s mate, her closest friend out of them all, with mischief in her eyes. “Just because you’ve bested me in two other races doesn’t mean you’ll have this one too.”

“I think it does,” she smirked devilishly.

Feyre broke into a swim for the shore to the dismay of the other women. Amidst shouts of protest at Feyre’s unfair start, everyone else began their dash to the shore.

She sliced through the water like a knife through butter, already ahead of Mor, Nesta, and Amren, the latter of which refused to participate. Surpassing Feyre like a born nymph, she barely had to try as her body fell into the familiar motion of cutting through the soft waves of the lake until she felt the water shallow beneath her belly and she was able to stand.

The water swished at her ankles as her feet touched land once again, running up the beach. At the sight of Azriel waiting a little ways down with her towel in his hand, she all but forgot about the race. She ran toward him, blushing at his gaze. He immediately rolled the towel open and wrapped it around her as she ran into him, securing the towel with strong arms that wrapped around her body and swayed her gently with the momentum of her sprint. His strong presence was enough to halt her and she savored the feeling of his body at her back, his warmth seeping through he towel and caressing her water-frozen skin.

She was breathing deeply now, chest rising and falling under his arm. Azriel reveled in the thrum of her heart under his hold, willing it to ease.

Azriel nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck and she giggled, ticklish and giddy at his proximity.

“Did you see the race, Az? I wooon,” she sang, reaching an arm out of the towel to hold his face behind her. She leaned back against his chest, craning her neck up to meet his eyes, eyes that were absolutely drunk on watching her high. She was naturally competitive, much like he was during his snowball fights with his brothers. Watching her in her element filled him with pride to an extent she would never fully know.

“I did, I’m so proud of you, honey,” he smiled, sliding one of his arms up until it was slung across her chest, connecting his lips with hers. She tasted like the water, sweet and fresh. Azriel couldn’t help himself as he grabbed her waist. It was like drinking from a fountain with an eternal thirst he couldn’t quench. More, more, more. He didn’t care who was around.

She pulled away, flustered. “You sure don’t mind putting on a show,” she turned around fully in his arms so that she was facing him now. The towel had fallen slightly, now hung loosely around the crooks of her elbows. Her wet hair fell in waves around her face and to him, she looked like a goddess of the water. He was barely religious, the furthest thing from it really, but he’d devote himself to her for nothing in return.

After the food had been brought out, the Inner Circle enjoyed the lunchtime feast of bread, wine, fruit, and meats. After everyone had eaten their fill, namely Cassian who was half passed out on his back, they lounged on the beach. Nesta nestled into Cassian’s broad side with her book, speaking to Elain quietly. Amren and Varian had rattled off somewhere right after they were done eating– insatiable those two were. Mor was laying on her back, facing the sun, catching a tan.

“I’m so happy we did this,” Feyre said softly, addressing the group. “It feels like lately our joy has come from short-lived bursts of happiness or quiet. I can’t tell you all what it means to me that we can have this time without preparing for the worst.”

Rhys rubbed a soothing thumb over her shoulder. Everyone raised their glasses to that.

Azriel leaned back into the sand, one arm folded under his head and the other extended as his mate rested her head on the inside of his bicep. Tired from swimming and full from their meal, she curled into his side, draping a leg across his.

“I’m so happy to be here with you,” She murmured into the side of his chest, peppering kisses there on his warm, tan skin. Azriel brought his arm around her, pulling her closer and resting a hand over her hip, enjoying the heat of her sun-kissed skin beneath it.

He rested his mouth at the top of his forehead as she drifted in and out of sleep. He was like her sleeping drug. Whenever they sat back together to watch a movie, read their books, or on nights in with their friends for some wine and card games, she could hardly stay awake beside him.

His heart swelled. She felt so comfortable around him that her guards collapsed to dust in his presence. She gave herself fully to him, to his care, and he wasn’t sure if he could hold her any tighter at that moment.

Helion came out to check on his guests. “Like a litter of babes, the lot of you,” He chuckled as he took in his friends, exhausted and full, lazing about his private beach. His eyes floated over to her, to her dozing form beside her mate, beautiful and soft. Peaceful. Azriel was aware of his gaze– he always was aware of anyone perceiving his mate. He only opened his book and continued skimming his fingers on her hips above the waistband of her swimsuit. She was blissfully unaware, half awake, half dreaming, lulled into a world of dreams and darkness by the steadiness of Azriel’s breath and light touch.

After the group of friends were well rested, everyone made their way into the water again. Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel raced out to the middle of the lake, Azriel the obvious winner and it wasn’t even close. Cassian batted a wave of water over Az with his wing in tantrum and Rhys only laughed until his stomach throbbed. They played chicken, Nesta on Cassian’s shoulders and she on Azriel’s. Mor wanted to pretend-play mermaids and they dragged the males in on their fun. They begrudgingly played along, yet were silently more than happy to oblige them. Nesta placed a crown of algae on Cassian’s head and he fully committed to his part as King of the Plankton. They floated on their backs, swam in circles, and splashed waves at each other.

Climbing the jagged, rocky cliffs on either side of the lake, they jumped off of their ledges into the water below, in flips and turns, nosedives and backflips. The setting sun cooled the water, a pink and purple sky above their heads melting into an inky blue that lined the horizon.

A perfect day.

Everyone grew tired again. From the beach music began to play. Light and upbeat, but beautiful and soft– distinctly Day Court.

Azriel gently grabbed her hand, leading her behind one of the cliffs they had jumped off of. It was the largest cliff jutting out of the lake and provided complete privacy when they were on the other side of it.

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone all day,” Azriel said, removing a hand from under the surface of the water and moving a lock of her hair behind her shoulder. He took in her tanned skin and sun-blushed shoulders and cheeks.

“All you had to do was ask,” She replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Azriel’s self control snapped like a rubber band and he pushed his body through the water against her, pinning her to the rock behind them. His hand cradled the back of her head against the jagged cuts of the cliff. He needed more, but he paced himself, letting himself savor the feel of her skin under the water. Azriel ran his hand up and down the side of her stomach, his fingertips trailing the skin as he moved. Her skin pebbled in the wake of his touch, sending a shiver down her spine. Even in his frenzy he took his time. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he slanted his lips over hers, water sloshing between their bodies in whatever space was left.

She sighed into his mouth and it drove him crazy. Pressing her chest to his, she needed to be as close as could, within his very being if it was possible.

“If I could just crawl into your skin and live inside your heart I would,” She told him one drunken night when she’d gotten so trashed with Nesta and Mor that he needed to fly her back home rather than walk like they always did after a night out. Azriel never forgot those words, and everytime they kissed or hugged he was reminded of them with an intensity that made his chest squeeze.

“Az,” She whispered into his mouth. His hands lowered from her waist to her hips, thumbs skimming the waistband of her bottoms again.

She couldn’t get enough of him. No matter how much time passed, he drove her absolutely mad. They’d only stopped for air once they absolutely could not breathe anymore, and even then, Azriel didn’t pull too far away, needing to feel her breath on him.

“What has gotten into you today?” She laughed lightly, though definitely not complaining. It was not like him to be so risky, to be so passionate when they weren’t completely alone.

“I just love you,” was all he said.

Night fell over the Day Court slowly but surely. The day had gone on forever. By the time it was dark enough, some of Helion’s housekeepers started a bonfire and replenished the beach with more food and wine.

She laid down on the blankets again with Azriel beside her, propped up on his elbow and leaning on his side so he was looking directly down at her. Their legs were intertwined and they laughed and spoke softly, a bit away from the rest of the group.

Azriel’s free hand rested on the plane of her soft belly, listening more than he spoke. Of course he was a man of few words, but around her, he enjoyed letting her speak. It was one of his favorite things, learning more and more about the way her brilliant mind worked with the things she said.

With her thoughts, ideas, and opinions, he thought she was incredibly intelligent– the smartest person he knew. He learned so much from her eloquent tongue, adoration filling him from head to toe when she went on her tangents.

The first time she even went on one of her rants in front of him, even before the bond had snapped into place, she was flustered and apologized to Azriel. At the time, she didn’t know Azriel liked her back and dread filled her veins at the idea that she possibly scared him away for good. But he simply shook his head and encouraged her, asking questions and helping her carry the conversation when he felt it start to falter with her hesitation.

They rejoined their friends at some point– he couldn’t remember when, or how long they’d been lost in each other. When she said she wanted to go sit with everyone else for a bit, he agreed. He’d always follow her wherever she led, no questions asked. Back up the beach, up to their room, to the ends of the earth, even.

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 month

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 2

Part 1 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 Part 8

AN: My toxic trait is that I'll read Eris fanfic all day and swoon but the second I work on this series I tear him to absolute filth.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, Eris' hounds

Word Count: 3,754

The next few days fly by faster than expected and before I know it, I’m walking from my room to the foyer of The House of Wind. I don’t miss my reflection in the passing windows. Once again I had been poked, prodded and primped to perfection. My dress hugged my every curve, not that Eris needed an excuse to use his imagination more than he already was.

I step into the foyer and find Cassian there with his back turned to me. He hears the clacking of my shoes on the marble floors and turns around, the familiar red glow of his siphons both easing the and aiding my rapid heartbeat.

“What do you think? Do I look ‘wall ornament-y’ enough?” I laugh trying to hide my pain.

“No you don’t, you look like a princess.” Cassian laughs but I can hear the hesitancy in his compliment.

“Thank you,” I smile, ducking my head. “Is it just you and I today?” I ask, looking for a sign of my brother or Azriel.

“Actually it’ll be just us from now on. Rhys has assigned me to take you back and forth from the Autumn Court for the duration of your courtship.” Cassian says with a hint of annoyance.

“Oh I’m sorry, that seems a little below your pay grade.” I mutter as my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Cassian was The Lord of Bloodshed, not some personal bodyguard of mine.

“Don’t be, I could use some easy work,” he assures me. “Ready?”

“I guess so,” I reply, walking over to him so he can pick me up. Within an instant we’re airborne and I try to hold on to the sense of freedom that flying gives me before I feel suffocated under Eris’ gaze.

The first few minutes of flying neither of us speak. I can hardly think of anything besides the way his arms feel around me, and I almost wish he had the power to winnow like Azriel did to keep my mind from wandering towards places it shouldn’t.

“I hope you know I didn’t mean what I said the other day. You know, about you being a wall ornament. I was just trying to see Eris squirm.” Cassian confessed and I can tell by the tone of his voice that the subject had been plaguing him for a while.

“Don’t worry I rather enjoyed his squirming,” I laugh recalling the way Eris’ jaw ticked from Cassian’s sarcasm.

“Then I’ll be sure to do it more often,” he said with that knee weakening smile.

It wasn’t long until we reached the Autumn Court and from where Cassian meant to touch down I could see Eris’ fiery hair waiting for me. The second my feet touched the ground Eris was reaching out for my hand.

“You look ravishing my dear,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of my hand.

“You as well prince Eris,” I smile as he loops his arm through mine, leading me up the front steps of the palace.

“I see you brought your bastard dog with you again,” Eris chided, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Cassian followed us.

“Don’t worry he’s potty trained, I even taught him to sit and stay,” I quip back as Eris leads me through the doors. I glance back at Cassian to give him an apologetic expression.

Eris lets out a hearty chuckle and I think it’s the first time that I’ve heard him laugh, “My dear you do have quite the sharp mind,” he says.

I glance up at the ornate ceilings above the foyer,“This place is huge, how many rooms?” I ask Eris, trying to change the subject.

“More than I’ve ever bothered to try and count, perhaps you can count with me today? I had hoped to take you on a little tour,” Eris answers, leading me down the hall.

Thick, lush garnet colored fabric covers the floors as ornate gold detailing lines the walls. The flames from the many chandeliers cast a warm light through the hall, and the colors of the Autumn trees can be seen through all the multi paned windows. I wanted to love this place, I wanted it to feel like home. Maybe it would have if Eris wasn’t such a viper.

We spent at least an hour wandering the halls of the palace, Cassian never farther than twenty feet from us. I was surprised to see that the place was near empty. My mind began to wander, was the place vacant because few people lived here? Or was it vacant because even the staff fears Eris? I suppressed the shiver that went down my back as I tried to turn my mind to other matters.

“I have something I wish to show you,” Eris says as he leads me outside.

The brisk air fans my face offering a breath of fresh air that I so desperately needed. His grip on me tightened as we approached a familiar looking barn. It didn’t take me long to realize that it was the same barn he had shown me earlier this week, the one where he kept his hounds.

We walk in through the wooden door and I’m greeted with the sight of at least a dozen kennels of dogs, all of them barking so loud my ears nearly rang at the sound. All of them, white, black and brown. As we made our way toward the back of the barn my gaze locked on a much smaller kennel where a litter of puppies played.

“Oh prince Eris! They’re so cute!” I cried watching them wrestle around with one another.

“I thought you might like them,” he smirked, leaning down to pluck one from the litter, placing it into my arms. The little puppy wiggled around licking my face, earning a giggle from me.

“What’s this one's name?” I ask, holding the puppy close.

“That one won’t get a name,” he answers, watching me and the pup intently.

“Why not?” I inquire, puzzled as to why such a sweet thing wouldn’t have a name.

“Because she’s a female and we don’t keep the females. They cost more to feed and keep than their worth.” He explains, like it’s common knowledge.

“But then how do you breed more?” I ask, holding the puppy even closer to my chest upon hearing its fate.

“She’s our breeder, and she has been for a couple of years now,” Eris replies, pointing to a fearful looking dog in the back corner of the kennel. “She always bears the strongest and healthiest pups, and most of them are male which is always advantageous.”

My stomach drops at Eris’ words. “Then why do you keep the female puppies alive for so long?” I ask, not sure I really wanted to know the answer.

Eris takes the puppy from my hands and puts it back in the pen where it begins to play with the others, “Because if we kill them right after their birth the mother gets lethargic and she refuses to nurse the males. We lost a whole litter once doing that.” he says once more, circling a hand around my waist.

My heart shatters at the realization of the poor puppy’s fate. “Oh,” I say in defeat, all thoughts from my head dissipating as I stare at the mother.

“I’m afraid we can’t all be pretty things for future High Lords to enjoy,” Eris smirks, nuzzling my neck. “Come, I have one last thing to show you before you leave.”

I nod, following Eris out of the barn, but I don’t leave without one last look at the mother dog in the back kennel. For a second I swear her eyes meet mine and there’s an understanding that we will both share the same fate, breeding vessels for higher powers.

We walk down along the river until we come across a large weeping willow. It appeared to have been there for years as its branches and yellow leaves cascaded down creating a large curtain around it. We had them all over the Sidra of the Night Court, but I had never seen one bear the colors of fall.

“That’s far enough bastard,” Eris curses at Cassian as he pushes back the leafy curtain to allow me in. I try to throw Cassian a fearful look but Eris closes the foliage curtain behind him before I get the chance.

I look up at the branches of the willow, doing my best to avoid Eris’ hungry gaze. The leaves are beautiful as the light of the setting sun shines through them, the slight breeze and the sound of the river flowing next to us made this place its own world.

“I can see why your family chose to keep you locked up for all those years,” Eris chimes, taking a step towards me.

“And why is that?” I say retreating a step, trying to keep my gaze on my surroundings.

“Because every legend I ever heard about your beauty is true,” he smirks, taking another step towards me.

My heart rate quickens and my palms go clammy as I take another step back, “and what do they say about me?” I ask, as if I don’t already know.

Eris chuckles, seemingly happy to recite the prose to me, “Eyes like a storm,” he starts taking another step closer to me.

I feel my bare back hit the bark of the willow and I realize that he has me pinned. He has been hunting me like prey this whole time and I was stupid enough to fall into the trap.

“Hair like threads of silk,” he continued, brushing a hand through my hair. “And skin as soft as rose petals,” he smiles, caressing my cheek. “The Jewel of Prythian and the weakness of every male.”

Eris’ breath fans my cheek as I feel his body press me into the willow tree, “It seems I have a lot to live up to,” I breathe, trying to keep my voice from quivering.

“Hardly.” he says, brushing a stray hair from my cheek. “You’re already the greatest temptation I’ve ever known and I think I’m tired of restraining myself from you.” he growls.

I don’t have a moment to think before his lips are smashing onto mine. My back scrapes against the bark and I know that there will be an angry red mark there when I free myself from Eris’ grasp. His tongue slides into my mouth and I feel my stomach burn. His lips taste vile, like they weren’t made for me, but he seems to be enjoying himself just fine. His hands wander my waist possessively, like I’m nothing more than an object for him to indulge in, though I suppose that’s exactly how he saw me.

Like a saving grace from above, the large bell atop the castle rang out, signaling that it was 7 o’clock, time for me to leave. I manage to push Eris off of me just enough for me to get a word in.

“Prince Eris, it's 7, my brother wants me home,” I say, placing my hands on his chest. My head casts down to where they spread over the expensive fabric of his shirt, the patterns being the only thing keeping me grounded.

“So punctual,” he tuts. “A frustrating quality now, but if things go well for us you’ll make quite the obedient little wife won’t you?” he smirks forcing my chin up so I can meet his domineering gaze.

“Yes of course my prince,” I say timidly.

“Good girl,” he praised, turning my chin to the side. The second the seventh bell chimes, a hand pushes aside the curtain of leaves and I’m relieved at the sight of Cassian.

“Princess it’s time to go,” he says urgently, the voice of a general making an appearance.

“You’re right,” I nod, trying not to look shell shocked. “Until next time Prince Eris,” I say as Eris kisses my hand.

“Until then my little flame,” he smiles.

I step out of the cover of the willow tree and Cassian wastes no time picking me up and shooting into the sky. I immediately feel better the second the wind whips my hair back and I can let go of the breath that I’m holding.

“Do you want me to take you to Rhys?” Cassian asks.

“No, just take me home please,” I reply, trying to hold back my tears.

As if he can sense my eagerness to feel safe in my own home he flaps his wings harder. We spend the entire flight in silence as I try to forget about the taste of Eris on my tongue but it’s impossible. The entire time we’re in the air I’m unable to think of freedom like I normally do. All I can feel is Eris' brand on me, and the second we touch down on the balcony of the House of Wind I feel every emotion I have come to the surface.

“Thank you for the ride,” I say to Cassian. My voice breaks as I turn from his gaze and make my way inside.

“Princess wait!” Cassian calls for me but I don’t turn around, whatever he has to say can wait.

I make a beeline for the kitchen. My tears are falling faster than ever and all I can think is, get his taste out of my mouth, get his taste out of my mouth, get his taste out of my mouth. I waltz over to the liquor cabinet and pull out the first bottle of whiskey I see. It spills a little as I frantically pour it into a glass and shoot it down my throat, the burn washing away any trace of Eris.

“Hey are you okay?” a voice drawls from behind me and I turn to see Cassian in the doorway.

“I’m practically engaged to a monster of course I’m not okay!” I cry shooting down another gulp of whiskey.

“Hey, hey hey,” Cassian coos, crossing the room to take the glass and the bottle from my hand. “It’s okay just breathe.” he says, pulling me into him.

The gesture makes me let go of all my inhibitions as I sob violently into his chest. I can barely breathe through my shallow breaths. I feel Cassian stroke a hand through my hair.

“H-how could s-someone be so terrible?” I sob through my ragged breaths. “Those poor puppies, and their mother? The way he t-touches me? A-and the way he speaks to you? I hate him.”

“Hey don’t worry about me okay? I can take it.” Cassian assures me. “Just take a deep breath for me alright?”

I listen to him and take a long deep breath, the smell of cedar and leather filling my senses calming me down instantly. He instructs me to take another one and I do, this time the heat of the whiskey warming my stomach helps calm me down.

Once I finally have my breathing under control he bends down to look at me, “Now, if we’re going to be drinking whiskey we might as well drink Rhys’ good stuff,” he smiles and for the first time that day I laugh.

“I suppose so,” I chuckle, wiping my tears away.

“That’s the spirit,” Cassian beams as he reaches for the large bottle at the top of the cabinet. He grabs two more glasses and takes them over to the living room.

I follow him and plunk myself down on the couch across from him. He pours us each a glass and raises his own in a toast.

“To old dogs that can learn new tricks,” he laughs referring to the comments made earlier today about him.

I roll my eyes playfully clinking my glass to his and taking a sip, “I’m sorry about that, Eris really is the worst,” I say.

“Then why are you looking to marry him? You know if you went and talked to Rhys right now that he wouldn’t make you do this.” Cassian asks, taking a sip.

I let out a long sigh while swirling the whiskey around my glass, “Because he sacrificed a lot for me under the mountain, I should repay the favor. Besides, he’s right. War is coming and if this is the only thing I can do to keep Velaris safe, and to keep you and Azriel safe then I want to do it.” I explain to him.

“You don’t have to worry about me and Azriel princess, it’s our job to keep you safe,” Cassian says leaning forward, setting his glass on the coffee table.

“I know, I know. You’re big tough Illyrians.” I roll my eyes. “But this is my duty, it’s what my father and mother wanted, it’s what I was made for. I don’t have earth shattering powers like my brother, or siphons and wings like you and Az. This is what I’m good for, and if it keeps my people safe then I’ll show up to woo Eris every single day with a smile on my face.” I say.

There’s a sadness in Cassian’s eyes and I can tell he wants to argue against me but he doesn’t, “You’re braver than most of the Illyrians I know. I think you could give Devlon a run for his money,” he says with sincerity, taking a swig from his drink.

“That might be a bit of an overstatement, though I bet with the right motives I could take him down,” I jest, sipping my drink.

“Now that’s something I would pay to see,” Cassian laughs. A moment of silence ensues before Cassian takes a gold mark out of his back pocket and twirls it in his fingers, “Have you ever played Marks?” he grins.

About an hour passes by and I’m thoroughly engaged in the game Cassian calls Marks. Apparently it’s a game he had been playing with Rhys and Azriel for years. The concept is simple, we both bounce gold marks off the table and try to land them in the glass in front of us. If I make it in the glass before he does, he has to drink and vice versa.

As simple as the game was, I couldn't lie that I was having fun. More fun than I have had in years. Turns out I was much better at Marks than Cassian had anticipated and throughout the hour I had him drinking like a fish.

That’s how Azriel found us, in a room filled with the sound of metal clattering against wood and laughter ringing out from both Cassian and I.

“Cassian, did you teach her how to play marks?” Azriel mused leaning over the couch next to me to watch.

“I did and it turns out she’s pretty damn good! I think the princess might be able to school you Az.” Cassian taunts.

I hear Azriel scoff beside me, “Oh please, move over and let me show you how it’s done.” he says sitting next to Cassian and picking up a gold mark. I don’t even have a chance to bounce mine before Azirel’s drops into the glass.

“Damn that was good,” I smile downing the last of my drink.

“Don’t worry princess, I'm sure you’ll be as good as me one day,” Azriel boasts proudly leaning back into the couch.

“Whatever Az,” I laugh standing up. “Well I think I’ve had enough to drink for one night. Goodnight you two.” I smile walking down the hall towards my room. I hear Cassian and Azriel bid me goodnight and for the first time in a long time, I go to bed with a smile on my face.

Cassian

A pretty little wall ornament for a future High Lord, just like you are…

You will bear me a son…

You’re already the greatest temptation I’ve ever known and I think I’m tired of restraining myself from you…

You’ll make quite the obedient little wife won’t you?

The things Eris’ said to y/n replay over and over again in my head causing my blood to boil. If it wouldn’t start an all out war I would out his head on a fucking pike and feed the rest of him to his hounds. I can’t stop replaying y/n’s face as she looked at the mother dog. It was clear that she knew that her fate would be the same as the animal. I was so blinded with rage I didn’t dodge Azriel’s punch fast enough feeling his fist connect with the side of my head.

“You’re off your game today brother. Any particular reason why?” Azriel taunts me from across the sparring ring. I didn’t want to admit he was right, but it was obvious my mind was clearly occupied today.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep last night,” I told him, not entirely a lie. Azriel squares up again and I take my stance.

“You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain princess you were sharing drinks with last night?” Azriel teases throwing a punch. I dodge it and throw my whole body into my next punch hating how he teases me about y/n. He dodges it and goes for the low blow knocking me down.

“I can assure you it has nothing to do with her,” I say from where I’m lying on the mat.

Azriel moves to unwrap his hands, seemingly calling it a day for the sparring ring. “Oh c’mon Cass, you’ve been pining for her for years.” he said, reaching out a hand to help me up which I took. “You need to tell her or you’re going to lose her forever.”

“I can’t. I won’t put her in an awkward situation like that, she already has enough on her plate.” I sigh, taking my own wraps off. “Besides she could never love someone like me, she’s a princess and ‘The Jewel of Prythian’ remember? Not to mention Rhys’ little sister. I’m nothing but a bastard born brute.”

“You really think she cares about something like that?” Azriel asks, wiping his face with a towel.

“I don’t have the guts to find out,” I answered sitting down next to him.

“Well if you’re looking for advice-”

“Which I’m not,” I cut Az off.

“But if you were,” he says, clapping a hand on my back. “I would tell her soon. Because if Eris decides that she’s worthy of bearing his sons he’s going to destroy her from the inside out.”

Part 3

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,

#cassian x you #cassian angst #cassian smut #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand acotar #azriel angst #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra

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surielstea · 1 month

Text

Strings Attached

Based on this request.

Pairing: Helion x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has had a crush on Helion for awhile now but feels inadequate when compared to the partners he brings to bed.

Warnings: fluff | Suggestive | Slight angst

3.3k words

The giggling in the room next to mine has me fighting back from hurling my guts out.

Helion was with yet another female tonight— perhaps multiple based on the sound emitting through the walls. Some part of me felt anger, everyone who was interested in the male seemed to get the chance to roll in the sheets with the High Lord while I sat in my room alone, trying to ignore the obnoxious thudding of the headboard against the connecting wall.

I put a sound shield over his room for him, he seemed to forget half the time which left me restless and annoyed.

Finally, at peace with the quiet, I release a soft sigh and my head comes down onto my pillow. The brunette that he led into his room tonight was particularly gorgeous, with long dark locks and beautiful caramel-colored skin. She was from the Summer court, cousin to the Day court. She looked like she'd been bathed in the sun, like not a single cloud had ever settled over her.

I was from the night court.

Born in the hewn city and fleeing the court entirely when Amarantha was defeated after those long years Under the Mountain.

It was noticeable I didn't belong in this court, this palace, the libraries, or the shops. I'd get looks of all sorts from strangers or other court members who thought it best for me to return to where I came from.

Helion made me his second in command after a few years of serving as his emissary. I've been with him for nearly a decade now and my feelings towards the high lord have yet to fizzle away. He's my best friend, yet I couldn't help imagining something more than just being on the sidelines, I wanted to be looked at the way he gazed at potential partners, wanted to be touched, and loved the way the females rave about as they're leaving the palace.

In between thoughts I manage to slip into a gentle sleep, a light slumber that I could easily be startled from. The large bed felt empty like I was drowning in it, like I needed someone next to me to make sure I didn't fall through the mattress.

________

I was standing at my workbench, bright light shining down onto my most recent invention. I peered through my magnifying glass at the inner mechanics, making sure all the gears shifted with each other as they spun. I've been fiddling with the small device for a while now but haven't been able to get it just right. "Let's try this again," I mumble before pressing the button atop the small cube. It makes a quiet beep and my brows shoot up. "Testing," I say into the microphone of the cube.

"You're so smart, starlight." A familiar voice makes me jump and I whirl around to face the High Lord. "You'd make the perfect high lady for this place." He hums and I flush, taking my eyes away from the handsome male and back to my invention. He walks over to me, the warmth of his skin radiating onto me. "What is it?" He tilts his head as he peers over my shoulder.

"A recording device," I say, glancing at him— which I realize was a bad idea because, Cauldron, he was so close. "If it works, we'll be able to start recording audio to put in our libraries for people who can't read," I explain and a soft smile curves his full lips.

"Genius." He hums. "It's not finished yet." I wave him off and press the button atop the recording device and set it down.

"Did you need something?" I turned to him fully, he wasn't wearing his crown or any golden jewelry, just glowing dark skin contrasted with his clean white robe. "I can't pester my favorite emissary?" He arches a brow, and my heartbeat quickens.

"I'm your only emissary." I remind him, cleaning up my workspace as he toys with a pair of miniature tweezers, his calloused hands seemingly too large to even hold the tool. "That doesn't mean you can't be my favorite." He mumbles, concentrating on picking up an even smaller screw from the desk with the tweezers.

"Helion," I pluck the tool from his hands and he pouts dramatically at me. "I was only going to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner, but you seem busy." He knocks on the wood as a farewell and takes a few steps away. "Wait," I look to him. "I could eat." I shrug and a wide smile spreads over his sharp features. "Follow me then."

Helion leads me down the halls of the palace, I still marveled at the beauty of this place despite living here for nearly a decade now. The high ceilings held up by large pillars, the floor-to-ceiling windows putting the Court outside on display in a decoration of its own, the crystal clear lake that spreads on the right side of the residence reflects the moonlight right onto the white palace, making it reflect and shimmer like a sun.

"Amilia?" Helion calls as we enter the long dining hall lit by golden chandeliers and tall, skinny candles. "Yes, my lord?" A kitchen maid scuffs into the room with bright green eyes and large voluminous curls. "I have a guest joining me for dinner, we'll need the table set for three." He informs and the maid bows her head with a soft smile. "Right away Lord Helion." She turns on her heel and shuffles towards the kitchen. "Thank you!" The male hums as she disappears behind the swinging doors.

"Three plates?" I ask curiously, coming up to his side. "Not just us?" I say and he looks at me with raised brows. "I have another courtier coming to meet with me from the Dawn court, but I'd be happy to cancel so it's just us." He offers and I shake my head, hair swishing with the movement. "That's alright, I won't disrupt your schedule." I brushed him off, even if a buried part of me felt disappointed. It's been some time since I had some alone time with Helion, he always seemed to be busy as High Lord— or spell cleaver.

I walked over to the table and took up the seat I always sat in, directly beside the head of the table, where Helion planted himself. A maid came over and poured both of us glasses of white wine. I thank her and she nods before skittering away.

The doors to the dining hall open and both Helion and I look up to spot a butler accompanying a gorgeous female clad in lilac and rose-colored robes that draped over her full frame in long sweeping motions. Her deep brown hair was combed up into an intricate style, and the golden bangles at her wrists clanked against each other as she walked in like she owned the place. "Lady Basu." Helion stands with a polite tone. "Please, my lord; call me Imara." She begs of him in a delicate voice. Is she the courtier from Dawn?

"Then you can call me Helion." The Lord gives her a seductive smile. I was going to need more wine.

Dinner was utterly delicious if it weren't for my need to hold back gags every time the two in front of me obnoxiously flirted, I watched as she noticeably stared at him while wrapping her perfect lips around her fork. They weren't even discussing anything pertaining to the courts, perhaps I was blinded by jealousy but what was the point of this female being here if she wasn't going to mention where her court lies with alliances?

"Amilia?" I call the maid, neither of them notice but the female shuffles over to me with an inquisitive expression. "Can I have some more wine?" I ask her. She nods her head and pours the pitcher until my glass is full again. "You know what, I think I'll just take this." I reach for the decanter and her brows raise slightly but she allows me to have the pitcher before I put it down onto the table. Helion looks at me with creased brows but I don't say anything.

"Are you enjoying the food Imara?" The high lord hums. "I've had better things in my mouth." She teased and I nearly choked. "Is that right?" Helion's reply only makes me drink deeper from the goblet, chugging down the rest of the liquid until I'm refilling the glass again.

The flirting grows so insufferable that I have to take a deep breath to control myself from yelling at them to keep it in their pants or take it to the bedroom. So instead I stand up, grabbing my wine glass, my chair loudly scraping against the floor.

"You okay?" Helion looks to me concerned. "Fine, just tired." I brush him off. "I think I might turn in early," I add and he only nods. "Sweet dreams, starlight." He hums. "Good to meet you Imari," I give her a wave. "You as well." She smiles at me even though she's been glaring at me all meal like I was a threat, as if Helion would ever choose me over some drop-dead gorgeous female offering herself so openly to him.

Helion's fingers intertwined with mine and I look at him curiously, his warm hand somehow heating the entirety of my body right down to my very bones. "Get good rest, alright?" He smiles sadly and I get the feeling that he wasn't originally going to say that, that he’s holding back.

"I should be the one telling you that." I joke as I drop his hand but he doesn't laugh, instead, he looks at me with something tender and wanting, that gaze that makes butterflies awaken in my stomach. I ignore it, giving him a nod before spinning on my heel and walking towards the doors, thanking the cooks and maids on my way out without another word.

______

My hangover was pounding into my skull as I stood at the kitchen counter, peeling an orange as my negligent breakfast. Luckily the morning was quiet, the bird’s song flowing in through the open windows, goldfinches perched on the aspen trees outside.

I hum along to the familiar tune with a gentle smile at the tranquility of it, everything going so smoothly until the smell of ginger and honey floats into the room and I know Helion has entered.

"Starlight," He grins widely as he approaches, his hands behind his back like he's hiding something. I narrow my eyes at him skeptically, wondering what it was he kept tucked away from my vision. "How are you so awake?" I sighed with a slow blink. "It's daytime," He looks to the window. "Should I not be awake?" He arches a brow. I shake my head and return to peeling the rind from my fruit.

"Have a good night?" I tilt my head. "Eh," He shrugs and I scoff, a small smile forming on my lips at his dissatisfaction, something like precedence blooming in my chest.

"I have something for you." He bounces slightly on his heels and I look at him unamused, my migraine slowly fizzling away as he gazes at me. "Do you now?" I tilt my head and he nods, pulling his hands from behind his back and revealing a small black box meant for jewelry. "I felt bad last night, you seemed upset so I got you these at the markets this morning." He explains before cracking open the lid of the velvet box and revealing a stunning pair of earrings. A clear sunstone gem framed by gold plates, the stone dangling from a golden clasp.

My brows raised as I looked between him and the expensive gift. "Helion I can't take this," I shake my head. "Sure you can." He urges me. "You can’t just give me things because I'm the slightest bit upset." I sigh, taking the box from him. "Sure I can." He reiterates and a small smile forms over my features. "Thank you," I say, taking the earrings out of their box right then and there before sliding them into my earlobes.

He smiles and tucks my hair behind my pointed ears. The male grins cheekily and I look at him, with stained cheeks. "What?" I cross my arms over my chest. "You're the most beautiful female I've ever seen." He states proudly. I chuckle and tear my gaze away from him, his expression falls. "I'm serious, you are." He nods his head and I only shake my head and continue to peel the tangerine.

"No, I am not." I toss the rind in the trash, trying to ignore the fact that the air in the room has gotten noticeably thicker. "Do you think I'd lie about such things?" He seems genuine which only makes me want to laugh more.

"You lie to me all the time." I shrug and he looks at me like I've gone crazy. "Nonsense, name a time." He commands and I roll my eyes. "Just yesterday you told me I'd make the perfect high lady for the day court." I remind and he twists his lips to the side. "That doesn't sound like me." He shakes his head. I deadpan at him before removing the small invention I've been working on from the pocket of my dress and pressing the button on the bottom.

"Testing," My voice emits from it, louder than planned and all too close to the microphone. "You're so smart starlight," another voice sounds from the speakers of the cube. "You'd make the perfect high lady for this place." It quoted and I glared at him before turning off the invention and putting it back into my pocket. "It works!" He says excitedly and I glare at him.

"Alright fine, so I did say that but still; I didn't lie." He argues and I huff out a grumble of curses. "I'm a truthful male." He drones as I return to picking the spongey white excess along with the fruit of my orange. "No, you're a flirt," I grumble. "Can't I be both?" He shrugs and I shake my head. "No, not if you're telling me I'm the most beautiful girl you've ever seen whilst bedding females ten times prettier than me." I defend and his jaw falls slack, slightly taken aback at my prepared remark. "But they're not prettier than you." He admits and I avoid his gaze that seemed to be analyzing every move I made.

"Stop lying." I grit out and he releases a sigh, his arms coming to either side of my waist, trapping me between his muscular frame and the counter.

"I'm not. You're out of my league." He says breathlessly as if he couldn't believe it. I turn to look at him, my brows pulled tensely. "Then why can't I be one of them?" I utter and he blinks. "One of what?" He asks, his dark brows quirking together. "One of the females you take to bed, if I'm. So beautiful then why haven't you shown it?"

The look on his face was pure shock, his ears perked up at the sound of vulnerability coming from me. I begin to grow embarrassed at what I just confessed.

"Starlight," He sighs, looking down at me with remorseful eyes. "Those partners mean nothing, there's no emotion. I'm simply admiring an art piece, there's no strings attached." He explains and I wait for him to tell me whatever art I am isn't good enough.

"I don't want that with you." He confesses and I swore my heart stopped.

I look up at him with tears welling in my eyes. I wasn't ready to confess and didn't have the confrontation skills to tell him how I truly felt. I swallow thickly and nod. "I understand," I mutter, dipping my head down. His large hand comes up to cup my cheek, tilting my head back and forcing my gaze back to his. "I want the strings attached, with you, is what I mean." He explains and I blink a few times to make sure the make that stands in front of me is real.

"What are you saying?" I need clarification, what does that make us, what can I bear to him without showing my soul in its entirety?

"I'm saying that I want you, for a lot longer than just a night." His hand slips from my cheek to curl around the back of my neck, his thumb stroking along my jaw. "Helion," I warn and his eyes are soft, this is real, he wants this as much as I do. "I know it's unprofessional but—" He begins to argue and I lunge upward, slinging my arms over his shoulders and planting my lips onto his.

He stumbles back, his other hand coming to my hips as he immediately kisses me back. I smile against the feel of it. Gods, he tasted like honey. I pull him closer, his chest pressing into mine as I balance on my toes just so I can reach up to him. He hums against my lips before pulling back with a knowing smile. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," I admit and his eyes gleam with pure affection.

"I have some idea." He reassured me before dipping down again and this time taking my mouth entirely, my lower back pressed against the counter behind me, his hands dipped down, sliding along every inch of my body until finding purchase at my thighs and hoisting me up onto the counter, my legs immediately wrapping around his torso as he pried my mouth open with his tongue and I allow him to explore every inch, I've dreamed of this, fantasized of this. Every male I've ever been with never amounted to what could've been with Helion, and now I have it and I was never going to give it up.

My hands go into his hair, dragging through the black locks as he presses his wanting hips into mine. I begin to work at the top of his robes, dipping it off his shoulder. He backs away with a restrained movement. "We can wait." He pants out. "We can go slow," he reassured, staring at me with every ounce of self-discipline he possessed. "I don't want to wait," I shake my head. "I need you now," I add and a smile curves his lips— then a soft gasp releases from his lips, looking at the center of my chest with creased brows.

A sudden sort of devotion overwhelms my body and I look down, spotting a golden string, sprouting from my abdomen and tethering directly to his. "Mate," I mumble, the only thought racing through my head. My body heats at the realization and when he pulls me into a kiss this time it's pure adoration, in every movement he holds utmost love and respect.

"You're my mate," I mumble into his mouth and he nods with a smirk on his lips. "Wait—" I say and he immediately rears back. I turn to look beside me, the freshly peeled orange untouched on its plate. I pick the fruit up and split it into two. "Eat." I hold the tangerine out toward him. His expression turns into something tender and he takes the fruit, taking no time to consume the citrusy fruit, handing me the other half and beckoning me to eat too. I smile and peel one slice off and pop it into my mouth.

A sudden smell of arousal takes over the space and as soon as I swallow down the slice his lips are on mine, his hands pulling me closer, kissing me deeper, harder. He tasted of citrus and that fact fueled every nerve in my body. Mates, we're mated. His tongue enters my mouth again and the mating frenzy seems to take him full throttle. He winnows us into his quarters, carrying me towards his bed.

Something told me we wouldn't be leaving this bedroom for weeks.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glam-targaryen @going-through-shit @fauxdette @impossibelle @amara-moonlight @webecheesy-blog @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogersbarnesxx

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #sarah j maas #x reader #request #helion spell cleaver #helion acotar #helion x reader #high lord helion #helion x you #day court #writing #fanfiction #acowar #acosf #suriels tea

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thelov3lybookworm · 4 months

Text

Remember Me? (Part 12)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: heh

thats all i got to say lol

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n rose her eyebrows at Eris, waiting for him to begin speaking.

Sometime ago, a servant working in the Autumn Court's palace had informed Y/n that Eris was looking for her, and Y/n had rushed to meet him. Now she stood facing him, just like that night a month ago, the gentle evening breeze curling in the air, making the leaves outside the large window rustle softly.

It also didn't go unnoticed by Y/n that this was the same window that she and Eris had stood in front of that night Feyre had arrived in autumn court.

"You know how each year we have a high lord's meeting since the war with Hybern?"

Y/n nodded. It had become common knowledge that to prevent any more disputes between the courts, the High lords had decided to meet every year.

"This year Autumn is supposed to host the meeting, and the meeting is in a week's time."

Y/n blinked. "And?"

He rose a brow. "All the court's officials will be present."

Dread spread through Y/n when she realised. "Is Rhys going to be there too?"

His eyes flared with something like rage before his expression smoothed out. "No, because I have barred him from the court, but some of the members of his inner circle will be present."

Y/n heaved a sigh of relief. "And why are you telling me this?"

"So you can warn Feyre of it. The members are going to question if they find Nyx running around the corridors. Tamlin is also going to be present, and I don't know if you know of their history, but it was a messy situation she left him in."

Y/n nodded. "I'll let her know. Anything else?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes travelling leisurely to her feet and back to her eyes, making her heart start racing when he stepped forward

Only when she could feel his breath on her face did he stop advancing and speak, and Y/n ignored the urge to take a step back.

"One thing. Keep that bastard's name out of your mouth."

Y/n suppressed a shiver, instead lifting her chin and meeting his gaze head on.

"And what if I don't?"

"He will find himself incinerated." He murmured, the embers of a fire beginning to form in his eyes.

"Who do you think you are to tell me whose name to keep out of my mouth?" Y/n had no problem in not speaking her former lover's name, but an opportunity to get Eris riled up was too good to pass up.

There was an inferno raging in his eyes as he pushed the words out with gritted teeth.

"No one."

Though Y/n was disappointed, she wondered why she even expected a different answer.

"I will speak whomever's name I wish, then."

He looked away, his jaw clenched.

A muscle began feathering in his jaw, and Y/n blamed what she did next all on her distracted mind, but she reached up, gently running her fingers on that muscle in his jaw.

He stiffened instantly, and despite wanting to pull back her hand, her mind wouldn't let her.

He turned his head to her again, a different type of fire in his eyes now.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and Y/n held still as he leaned closer.

The air between them changed, becoming charged. Y/n waited with baited breath, not daring to take in necessary air in fear it would prompt him to turn away.

His hot breath washed over her face, and her eyes fluttered closed. Anticipation coursing through her very veins alongside her blood, she waited for that first caress of his lips.

Only it never came.

What did come, though, was the sound of screaming children, and Y/n and Eris barely had any time to jump apart before the kids came into view.

Y/n sighed, caressing the wall, pretending that she hadn't been about to kiss the high lord.

When the pattering feet came closer, she turned, flashing the little kids a dazzling smile as they came to a stop next to her feet.

"Auntie Y/n! Do you want to play with us?" Nyx asked, his eyes glittering.

There was obviously nothing else Y/n had to do, she agreed. Especially with what almost happened occupying her mind, she was sure she would not be able to focus on anything.

"Come, we have a few hours before dinner time, so we can play."

The children grabbed her hands, beginning to drag her away.

Y/n felt eyes on her all the way until she turned a corner and disappeared from his view, which did nothing to cool the warmth on her skin.

Feyre spoke up when she caught up to the Fin and Nyx, who were debating on what to play while Y/n watched.

"How about we play hide and seek?"

Y/n knew Feyre had questions, and so she didn't argue when she decided that Y/n and She would seek the kids.

"Y/n?" Feyre said as soon as the kids were out of earshot.

"Yes?"

"We need to talk."

Y/n sighed, nodding.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke@hnyclover@minnieoo@sidrapotter

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #a court of mist and fury #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra

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minicoffee00 · 5 months

Text

The one that got away Part 2 Rhysand x Reader x ?

Plot: you are the closest thing Rhysand has to a mate before he is taken away by Amarantha, what happens when you haven’t seen the man you adore and love in 50 years to come back claiming he has found his mate and he wants nothing more to do with you.

Warnings: Angst

Rhysand had watched as you left, he had stayed silent not prepared to choose. I’m his mind, he tried to convince himself that it was a big decision and he wouldn’t immediately choose Feyre.

But in every dream, in every waking thought it was her. And he could tell himself logically it was an infatuation, and he actually held a live connection to you. However infatuation isn’t as bad as it seems, it’s one for the most passionate and raw connections one can have.

So yeah, it was Feyre, and he tried to convince himself it wouldn’t always be her. But even though the image of you was clearer in his mind than that of Feyre, Feyre was the one breaking through.

You’d left, and Azriel and Cassian had attempted to stop you, but a shake of your head had them regrettably stepping back.

“Why, why did she leave me?” Rhysand asks, as if it wasn’t obvious, leaving both Cassian and Azriel to groan out their annoyances.

“Because you are a prick brother. I get that you want to see where things go with your mate. Any of us would, but you haven’t even thanked her, for everything she has done, you tried kicking her out of her home … you’ve been awful to her. I’m shocked she stayed this long” Cassian admits, feeling rather vocal about this topic.

“Where do you think she’s gone?” Rhysand asks.

“No idea, but she had friends in other courts so it wouldn’t shock me if she’s gone to one of them” Azriel expreses, you were oddly, the lightest aspect of the night court. Eveyone preened in your presence wondering how you’d become tethered to someone as terrible as Rhysand.

And you were slowly were staring to think that it was his kind, polite side of him that was the imposter persona he wore rather than the cruel and cryptic Night Court Highlord. Agreeing with the other courts in their assumptions.

Rhysand had hurt you, and you never imagined he could hurt you as much as he had. Which is why you’d fled straight to your oldest friend, Hellion. He’d always been there for you, whenever you’d felt as if Rhysand was becoming to overbearing and protective and you needed someone to talk to, he was always there.

“Hellion?” You ask as the guard brought you into the palace of the day court.

“My Anima” he sighs looking at you, you’d never know what the little nickname had ment but he called you that before you’d even met Rhysand and it stuck.

“I - everything is so horribly wrong” you say, the tears building up in your waterline.

“Come” he says patting his thigh. You walk over to him and curl into his lap, he only needed one of his large muscular thighs to hole you on his lap, but you used both snuggling further down into him.

“What has occurred” he asks curiously, he didn’t want to admit it but he had a rough idea. He saw the way Rhysand went against Amarantha to protect Feyre and to keep her alive. He knew that something had snapped as she’d been resurrected as High Fae by the vast majority of them.

“Rhysand found his mate under the mountain, he also doesn’t know that he’s been leaving his walls down around me. So I can feel everything and see everything, that he feels now or felt in… in the past” you say remembering how you could feel his guilty self when he did let himself feel some kind of pleasure around Amarantha as it was his body’s natural reaction to being touched so sensually. But you had to see that and feel that without his knowledge. All while feeling these new emotions he held for Feyre.

“Ah yes, I saw them under the mountain. I’m glad you weren’t there and that you were safe in the Night Court” he exclaims knowing you would have suffered a great deal down there as Rhysands wife.

“I - he, I don’t know what to say” you admit, your brain was currently incapable of forming words, it was a void and empty space.

“Hey shush shush, I’m here I’m here. You know, you’ll never loose me. No matter what lifetime we may meet one another in” he smiles, you smile back. And for the first time you actually look at him, taking in his features before meeting his eyes.

His smile was radiant, as light as the rays of sun that shine over his court of day.

He was ethereal.

“Can I please stay with you, even just for a little bit. I can’t face anyone in the night court. Especially if Rhysand is in the process of wooing Feyre” you admit.

“Of course. I’d have it no other way. And who knows maybe I’ll finally woo you after 500 ofd years” he sends a joking wink your way, a light chuckle rumbling through your body.

He always knew how to make you laugh.

“Well maybe we should start to think about long term plans?” You say shyly, his head whipping to you!

“Are you asking for my hand in marriage” he asks eyes wide.

“No, I’m saying that I should get annulled from Rhysand, he’s found his mate so our courtship I guess is void” you admit a thoughtful look on your face.

“This isn’t something you need to think about right now. Shall we take a walk in the daylillies field?” He questions and you smiled. You’d once admitted to him that they were your favourite flower, he had torn down a field that was near the palace of Aster’s just to replace them with daylillies.

He stood up, placing you down gently on the floor.

“Actually first we’ll get you out of this dismal attire and put something lighter on you” he grins pulling you further into the palace reaching a room that was specifically for you when you would stay here with Hellion.

He left you with the made your frowned at your dark attire from the night court, before throwing a white dress your way, that had golden chains and accents on it.

“Why don’t you look like a vision of day” Hellion says leaning with his hands on the doorway leaning slightly through while observing you from head to toe.

“Now, join me for this walk, yes” he asks reaching a hand out to you. And for the first time in weeks, your brain held a good kind of empty feeling, one that was almost freeing from the pain.

A/N: im terribly sorry for how behind I am with the up and coming! I will be able to get lots done tonight and tomorrow! Again I’m so sorry!

Taglist:

@cat-or-kitten

@sstrohma

@horneybeach1

@its-sam-allgood

@starryhiraeth

@xcastawayherosx

@glitterypirateduck

@azriels-mate2

@mavropouloupanagiota

@chasing-autumns-chill

@justdreamstars

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #acowar #acosf #rhysand x reader #high lord rhysand #rhysand x feyre #rhysand

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k-daydreams · 11 months

Text

The pursuit of Feeling Alive: I. Intro

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader, PLATONIC!IC x reader

Synopsis: cousin to Rhysand and Morrigan, y/n was once her family’s golden child. Faced with trials and tribulations her whole life, she needed reprieve— a distraction. Until a surprise homecoming opens Pandora’s box, and gives y/n a reality check. Especially facing her once close friend Azriel. Friends to Enemies to lovers trope.

Warnings: trauma, swearing, pining, angst?

Word Count: 4.8k

Author note: this is my first acotar fic! It was originally going to be a singular self indulgent azriel fic, but I can’t ever get to the point and I got too many ideas. Definitely not very canon with the timeline of series I think lol, just going to throw that out there. I’ve already rough drafted another chapter and thought I’d share the work on here. Feel free to share your thoughts! If you’d like to be added to a tag list let me know!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Internally, you teetered on the edge of a nervous breakdown, ready to tear yourself apart from within. Externally, you wore a mask of cold calculation, hoping no one could detect your distress and near senility. Earlier in the day, your cousin Mor had mentioned that her high lord and your other dear cousin, Rhysand, had matters to discuss with your high lord, Helion. The reason for their meeting was of no concern to Mor to bother filling you in.

Your heart thumped against your chest, unsure of what to expect. It had been over fifty years since the Day Court and Night Court had engaged in official business since the end of Amarantha's reign of terror. You had seen Rhysand during the time under the mountain, where you spent nearly half a century with him until Feyre saved Prythian. Still holding visits with him after to report to him along with Mor, thanks to her frequent visits to Helion. However, the rest of the court, especially those you hadn't met since after Amarantha and Hybern, remained a mystery, with only Mor's updates for context.

Following your time under the mountain, you chose to reside in the Day Court under Helion's rule as an emissary between the two Solar Courts. It served as a means to shield yourself from feeling too deeply, allowing you to focus on healing from the traumatic events you endured during those fifty years. There were other matters you had yet to confront and come to terms with, voluntarily choosing to ignore them. By hiding away and conducting your business mainly with Mor and Rhys, you could maintain a sense of avoidance of your once home.

Now, in the dining hall of the palace where Helion and his inner court resided—including yourself—you found yourself on edge. Regardless of the pressing matters at hand, your high lord insisted on hosting a dinner for his court and other high fae to publicly display the alliance between the Night Court and the Day Court. Standing next to Helion's chair in the center of the room, you observed the lively chatter among the gathered individuals.

Your hands were clasped tightly in front of you, nervously inspecting your gown for nonexistent dirt, attempting to conceal your jitters. The gown itself could remind anyone of the place you resided and wanted to consider your new home. It was an off-the-shoulder nude gown with gossamer sleeves cascading around your arms. The bodice, nearly transparent, accentuated your bust, adorned with soft gold crystals intricately arranged over your body. The long skirts consisted of layers of gossamer, featuring two long slits up the front that revealed your legs. You appeared ethereal and angelic.

"You seem on edge," Helion called out to you, pulling you out of your internal thoughts. Your eyes scanned the room, observing every movement, before turning your attention to the main entrance. He gently traced his finger beneath the dainty black diamond bracelet adorning your wrist, bringing your attention back. This bracelet, along with matching pieces around your neck and ears, showed your affiliation with the visiting court. You wore them out of respect for your older cousins, never daring to show your true affection openly—a facade to conceal your true self. You knew they would appreciate it if they noticed.

"The Night Court was your home, was it not?" He questioned, his tone casual, as he glanced over his shoulder at the other members of the inner court to make sure they weren’t listening. Adjusting his shirt cuffs to his well-matched button-down very similar color to yours, he exuded regality from head to toe.

You mumbled stoically, "Was." Clearing your throat tentatively, your eyes returned to the main doors. "This is my home now, serving under your rule. I can't afford to be anything but cautious when the Night Court wishes to discuss an unknown matter."

You didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled. "Always playing this game, aren't you?" Helion scolded playfully. “There's no need to keep up the act. Rhys's actions beneath the mountain spoke volumes for our court."

You thought to yourself, 'But my actions don't, and I'd rather keep it that way.' Aloud, you replied smoothly, "One can't appear too soft when the Night Court steps through that door." The lie slipped easily from your lips.

"Are we referring to the whole court now or the spymaster we both have eyes for?" Helion hummed, reclining slightly in his chair as he took a sip of fae wine from his chalice-like glass. Damn him.

"I have no eyes for any man, particularly not a brute Illyrian man. And especially not one I've been watching wrestle with my cousin since we were young children," you retorted, feeling a surge of unease and clenching your jaw at the assumption.

"That's a match I would give up all my powers to witness," the handsome, dark-skinned lord purred, his words aimed at you.

You wanted to snap at him, your patience wearing thin at the mere mention of the tall Illyrian warrior. However, you managed to keep your composure in check. "It's hardly a match; Rhys won every time."

As if on cue, you felt the energy of several individuals entering the palace. Rhysand always loved a dramatic entrance. "Excellent, our guests have arrived," you murmured, straightening your shoulders as best as you could.

Helion followed suit, sitting more upright in his chair at the center of the hall. The rest of the inner court took their positions standing.

The sentries opened the doors for the guests. Morrigan was the first to enter, her golden hair elegantly curled, and she delightedly took you in before blinking a few times, returning to her sultry expression. Her red gown fitted her perfectly: a strapless piece that flowed around her as she walked. Following her was a sight you hadn't expected since hearing the gossip from Mor—Lucien Vanserra, adorned in deep autumnal colors that complemented his complexion and long, tidy red hair. He was an old confidant of yours when you had stayed in the spring court. You couldn't help but find it amusing, but you maintained a composed demeanor, concealing your bemusement at how out of place in the night court he seemed.

After Lucien came two beautiful high fae women. The younger one on the left wore a flowing champagne pink gown that accentuated her slim waist and showcased her porcelain fair skin. Her light brown hair was adorned with crystals and flowers, and she wore dainty opal teardrop earrings that complimented her brown eyes. On the right stood another woman in a form-fitting navy dress that subtly shimmered with every movement. The gown highlighted her curves and bust, while a sapphire-like sciphon necklace adorned her neck. Her darker brown hair was elegantly pinned up with a silver circlet. These must have been the High Lady's sisters, Elain and Nesta, whom you had heard so much about. Nesta's eyes had a hint of danger and coldness, while Elain's were filled with awe as they observed the dining hall.

Cassian followed the two women, and you discreetly coughed to suppress a snort. He appeared cleaned up, wearing a navy tunic and dark linen pants, with his hair slicked back and neatly tied. This was a different version of him from the rugged general you were accustomed to, not dressed in his usual fighting leathers to a formal affair. His siphons were cleverly disguised as jewelry pieces, and he had politely tucked back his larger wings. He seemed out of place as much as Lucien, but his mischievous eyes locked with yours, indicating he might have had similar thoughts about you.

Before you could even see her, you sensed Amren's piercing gaze from behind Cassian's towering figure. Her glowing silver eyes held an inscrutable expression, and her lips formed a slight grimace. She wore her usual grey color in a slip gown that elegantly draped down in the front. Though not dressed as extravagantly as the others, her presence demanded attention. A touch of red lipstick and a slightly tousled hairstyle were enough to enhance her beauty. You could see the rest of Helion’s inner court murmur from your peripheral, the usual whispers about the millennia’s old creature stalking towards them.

Rhysand made his entrance with the high lady from beside him, exuding confidence and power. He wore his customary dark attire that accentuated his commanding presence. His violet eyes locked with yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention to Helion. Feyre held her head high, a diadem hanging on the crown of her head, and her hair half up half down in loose waves. Her dress off the shoulder shone in sapphire crystals making it look like stars had been entwined on the gown. She was gorgeous as a mortal even when she was malnourished when you saw her under the mountain, but as a high fae she was even more devastating.

Last of the group, you spotted Azriel, his shadows swirling subtly around him, and your breath caught in your throat. His shadows slinked up his dark tunic clad shoulder seeming to whisper in his ear. He looked over at you making eye contact discreetly. His features were hard but something unreadable in his eyes as he observed you. You didn’t miss the slight bob of his throat as he looked quickly away to a distant corner in the room acting stoic. His hair was pushed back showing his sharp jawline, and you could see his tattoos peeking out his shirt. His silent and brooding presence always managed to unnerve you, unable to get a good read on what could’ve been going through his head. You refused to let your guard down, not wanting to think about the shadowsinger that stood mere feet away. This had been the first time you have seen each other in person since you were able to leave under the mountain.

The Night Court all stood in front of Helion, and he bowed his head in greeting. You did the same along with the rest of the inner court. The introductions began, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Helion gracefully welcomed his guests, exchanging pleasantries and acknowledging the significance of the meeting. You observed the interactions, keeping a blank face despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. It felt like you were looking into your old life from the outside watching the inner circle, and your heart ached for a second.

Eventually, it was time for you to step forward and join the introductions. As you approached Rhysand, his gaze never wavered from yours. His lips curved into a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the past. You stood before him, your heart pounding, but your expression remained composed.

"High Lord Rhysand," you greeted him, keeping your tone neutral and titles formal. "It has been a while."

His voice was smooth as he responded, “Y/n, always a pleasure. Allow me to introduce my wife and High Lady, Feyre.”

You bowed respectfully to the High Lady. “I am in awe, Feyre Cursebreaker. What an honor to have you grace the Day Court with your presence.”

A smile graced her lips in response. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I have heard so much about you, Y/n.” She took your hands in hers, and you were taken aback by the warm informal gesture. Your gaze fell upon the intricate tattoo adorning her hand and forearm, and in that moment, your heart swelled with joy for your cousin, and you dared to steal a glance at Rhys. His eyes were already fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but notice the subtle hints of tenderness and anticipation shining within them. You were so happy for him.

The formalities continued, and you exchanged polite words with Lucien, Elain, and Nesta. You longed for a chance to sit down and talk with them, to hear about their experiences since being freed from the cauldron. Your gaze wandered momentarily to Lucien, who stood near Morrigan, his amber eyes briefly glancing in your direction. A flicker of recognition passed between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of shared history. You had both suffered under the rule of the Spring Court, and it was a trauma you preferred to keep buried for now. But you couldn’t deny that you treasured the moments the young emissary had kept you sane within the trauma.

You stood next to Helion along with another Day Court emissary as Rhys, Amren, and Helion discussed some political topics. Deep down, you yearned for a moment alone with the inner circle, away from the prying eyes and expectations. But for now, you had to focus on the diplomatic matters at hand and navigate the complexities of the gathering. As the conversations flowed around you, you remained attentive, gathering information and assessing the dynamics between the courts.

Throughout the evening, conversations flowed, alliances were strengthened, and unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You played your part, engaging in polite conversation and maintaining the facade of an emissary, all the while battling the internal storm raging within you. It was beginning to wear on you though. Watching from afar at how Mor mingled with Nesta and Cassian. The Illyrian man had his arm around the oldest Archeon sister as they nodded and chuckled at Mor, and you wanted to smile. You had never expected Cassian finding a mate before you, but here you were.

A lot has changed since you had left indeed, and the longing you felt came back.

“You’re not my prisoner, you know. Feel free to mingle,” Helion’s voice chimed from behind, breaking through your thoughts.

“Isn’t that a bit informal?” you responded, sipping your glass of wine.

He arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “To talk at a party?” He snatched your wine from your hand.

You turned to face him, reaching for your half-filled glass that he held teasingly away from you. “Ah, don’t you think it’s a bit informal for an emissary to get drunk?” He added a playful spark in his eyes.

“To drink at a party?” You volleyed back, grinning mischievously as you continued your playful struggle for the glass.

“Why don’t you practice the talking part with Rhysand?” Helion suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It seems like he’s eager to have a word with his dear cousin.” He gestured subtly behind you, and amidst the revelry and banter, Rhysand and Feyre made their way toward you both. However, before you could react, your gaze caught Azriel’s intense hazel eyes from their table behind the approaching couple, where he sat next to Elain. His massive wings appeared tense and uncomfortably confined by the chair. Elain chatted with him, but it seemed his attention was elsewhere, fixated on you. His shadows still whispered in his ear as one crept across the table.You resisted the urge to shudder, maintaining your composure, and quickly turned your attention back to Helion, whose grin remained firmly in place.

“Helion, may we borrow Y/n for a moment?” Rhysand inquired, one eyebrow raised, his gaze flickering between you and Helion.

Helion practically pushed you into Feyre’s arms. “Go ahead, I was just informing her that she’s free from her duties until later!” he announced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as you realized his intent to encourage your mingling.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you replied, bowing your head with a touch of sarcasm. Rhysand extended his arm, and you looped yours through it, allowing him to guide you towards their table. A nervous gulp betrayed your anticipation.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone gentle and caring.

“May we speak on the balcony?” you requested, your voice filled with meekness.

“Of course, it’s getting a bit warm in here,” Rhysand agreed, leading the three of you towards the balcony bathed in soft faelight.

You all leaned casually against the balcony railing, observing the lively feast taking place inside.

"How's the Day Court treating you?" he asked in a relaxed tone, as if to put you at ease. Away from prying eyes, you felt your shoulders relax. It felt good to be with your cousin where you both didn’t have to wear a mask.

"Well," you replied, "the Day Court doesn't quite compare to the beauty of the Night Court, but the days are undeniably bright." You struggled to find a suitable comparison for the Day Court's allure to the Night Court.

Rhys and Feyre almost snorted out their wine, their amusement evident. "I wonder why," Rhys sarcastically murmured.

Choosing to ignore your cousin's comment, you continued, "I've been making progress translating some texts for the court, and delving into a lot of reading.”

It seemed as though the High Lord and Lady expected to hear more and urged you to continue, but they realized you had nothing more to share.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Wow, that sounds like quite a lot," he remarked. You could tell he wanted to throw a snide remark, but a warning look from his mate kept him at bay. Where was Feyre centuries ago when you always found to be the butt of your cousin's jokes?

You shrugged. "Keeps me distracted." From your vantage point, you had a perfect view of the inner circle's table. Mor, Amren, Azriel, Lucien, Nesta, and Cassian were all seated there, drinking and picking at their food. Helion even made sure Amren had a chalice of beast's blood. You missed being a part of that group, laughing and sharing moments with them. The only person in the Day Court you truly felt comfortable with was Helion, and even that remained behind closed doors.

"Come home," the words made your shoulders tense. It wasn't your cousin who had spoken, but Feyre. You looked at her, finding understanding in her eyes, as if she knew what you were going through.

Your gaze wandered back to the inner circle. Your eyes fell on Azriel, who was listening with a ghost of a smile on his lips, as Cassian animatedly spoke, his wings flaring about and nearly knocking over Lucien's wine glass. The group tried to hide their laughter while Amren scolded them. Azriel's shadows discreetly moved the glass out of Cassian's wingspan, hiding his amusement.

"They miss you," Rhys genuinely expressed. "I miss you, and even the House misses you." Tears welled up, tightening your throat. "He won’t say it out loud, but he misses you too."

You didn't need to be told who he was. You knew.

"I didn't even say goodbye," you spoke with a heavy heart, guilt washing over you.

"That was over fifty years ago, Y/n," Rhys reminded you gently.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We have texts for you to translate if it’s a means to keep you busy, we could even have you train with Madja. Want an apartment on the opposite side of town from the House of Wind? Consider it done. Desire a cottage in the middle of nowhere? It's yours. Just please, stop running away," Rhys pleaded.

You felt tears welling up, but you willed them away. "I... I just can't leave," you stammered. You could feel your heart torn.

"You can," Feyre said sympathetically, holding your hands. "Helion asked us to come and talk to you."

"We won't force you, but he mentioned that you've changed in the last few years," Rhys added. Feyre's grip on your hands tightened.

"Please talk to them maybe and think about it?" she requested. You knew she meant the inner circle.

Biting your lip, you contemplated. "I'll find you in a bit. I need some time alone."

With a nod, Rhysand and Feyre understood your need for solitude. They exchanged a brief glance before making their way back inside, leaving you alone on the balcony.

Leaning against the railing, you let the cool evening breeze brush against your skin, smell of wildflower and honey in the air, the quietness of the moment allowing your thoughts to swirl. Images of your past, the friendships you had forged and the bonds you had left behind, filled your mind. The longing in your heart grew stronger with each passing second your family stood in the same room as you. A longing you pushed deep down when you were still under the mountain, uncertain of seeing your loved ones again.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to not let tears slip. It was true that you had changed over the years, that the weight of your experiences had shaped you into someone different. But running away had only prolonged the pain, and you knew it was time to confront it. If your cousins had endured the pain, you were sure you could too.

Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the railing, determination igniting within you. You couldn't stay on the sidelines any longer. The inner circle had always been your family, even if circumstances had driven you apart. And now, as you stood on the cusp of a decision, you realized that it was time to bridge that gap.

Stepping back inside, you navigated through the crowd, searching for the familiar faces you had missed dearly. You found them at their table, still engaged in their playful banter, laughter filling the air. Taking a deep breath, you approached, your footsteps faltering only slightly.

As you reached the table, a hush fell over the group, their gazes turning towards you. Azriel's eyes locked with yours, and the shadows around him seemed to ripple, as though mirroring the tumultuous emotions within you.

"Can I join you?" you asked softly, your voice carrying a blend of trepidation and hope.

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Cassian's boisterous laughter echoed as he clapped you on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of you. Nesta's sharp gaze softened for a brief moment, Elain offered a warm but wary smile, and Lucien's amber eyes held surprise. Morrigan's voice was a welcoming melody as she pulled out a chair for you, and Amren, in her own enigmatic way, nodded approvingly.

Taking your seat among them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of homecoming. And as you settled into the comfort of their presence, you could feel your frozen heart just dethaw slightly.

“Y/n, I knew you were always shy, but around us?” Mor teased you endearingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You look so beautiful tonight!” She gushed, her words filled with genuine admiration as she played with a strand of your hair. “The dress would be better in a darker color though.” She whispered the last part so only you and the inner circle could hear, her voice laced with a conspiratorial tone.

“The gown color does wash you out,” Amren chimed in, her bored expression not fully hiding a hint of amusement.

A laugh bubbled out of your chest, surprising even yourself. "Not the first thing I thought I would hear from you in years," you quipped, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Amren raise her glass to you before taking a sip of the thick liquid in the cup.

“Better than that raggedy spring court piece you came back in, though," Rhysand interjected, his voice filled with playful banter as he and Feyre settled into the extra seats at the table. The original inner circle chuckled at the memory.

Despite that being one of the worst days of your life, you couldn't help but smile too. The shared laughter brought a warmth to the air, softening the edges of past wounds.

“You should’ve seen the dress I came to the Night Court in," Feyre chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Another monstrosity by Ianthe," Lucien muttered into his glass before taking a sip, his voice tinged with a touch of disdain. Your eyes widened at the snide comment, but the group erupted into laughter, momentarily forgetting the weight of your burdens.

As the night wore on, Helion raised his glass, signaling a toast to the alliance between the two courts. The hall fell silent, and you raised your glass as well, a faint smile playing at the corner of your lips. The toast created a joyous noise as everyone in attendance drank, and the music started playing. Mor instantly beamed and grabbed Feyre’s hand, followed by Elain, leading them to the dance floor. Rhysand and Lucien joined them, their steps filled with a carefree grace. Cassian took Nesta’s hand, and they followed suit. Amren excused herself to converse with the emissary from the Day Court with a request of Azriel to accompany her.

You turned to Mor, insisting you would join them shortly, as you wished to find Helion. She nodded understandingly, giving you a knowing smile as she disappeared into the swirling crowd. You made your way toward Helion, feeling the warmth of the night and the drinks starting to loosen your tongue and heart.

“Do you wish to get rid of me so easily?” you feigned offense, walking up to his side. The merriment of the evening had given you a newfound boldness. Your body hadn’t felt this light in ages. Your gaze met his, and a flicker of understanding passed between you.

Helion shook his head, a gentle smile gracing his features. “No, darling, never. I just think your heart belongs somewhere else.” His words were filled with gentle encouragement. He patted the arm of his chair, offering you a seat upon the rest. With an eye roll and a smile, you accepted, settling into the plush chair arm.

"Your presence is lovely, your duty is commendable, but I couldn't sit here watching you turn to stone any longer," Helion continued, his voice filled with genuine concern. His finger absentmindedly found the wrist under your bracelet, his touch a feather-light brush against your skin. A wave of warmth washed over you, and the faint scent of wildflowers drifted through the air.

"Besides, maybe it's time you face a certain Illyrian man," he whispered discreetly, his words carrying a hint of suggestion.

You looked at him, confusion swirling within you. His eyes subtly glanced over to the corner, and you followed his gaze. Azriel stood behind Amren, his intense gaze fixed on Helion and you. His jaw was clenched, and his wings were taut with tension, as if holding back an impending storm. The sight of him sent a jolt of both excitement and apprehension through your veins.

"I can't ignore those ravenous stares, knowing he wants to rip me to shreds, and not in the way I like," he added, teasingly toying with your bracelet as if oblivious to Azriel's presence. The Day Court High Lord knew exactly what he was doing it seemed. Azriel couldn’t have been glaring at Helion; it had to be you. Memories of your past argument with Azriel flashed through your mind, the intensity of the argument still fresh. You had both nearly destroyed each other. You hadn’t ever heard you two speak so many volatile and vulgar things— especially at each other.

"I could never forgive him for what he said," you sighed. "What's even worse is that I can't forgive myself for what I did, not only to him, but to my family. I feel responsible for my ex-husband's actions towards them." You admitted, realizing that you had never spoken those words aloud before.

Beside you, the lord sucked his teeth in retort. "You can't blame yourself for what your father put you through by selling you to that pretty little beast." He sat up straighter and looked at you earnestly. "Nobody blames you, Y/n." You found yourself unabashedly staring back at Azriel as he was still looking at the interaction between you and the high lord.

“We all carry burdens from our past, but we mustn't let them define our future," he said gently. "You were caught in a web spun by others, but you have the strength to break free. It's time to forgive yourself and embrace the healing you deserve."

You nodded nimbly, biting your lip in contemplation. You would always hold gratitude for Helion. His kindness you’ve experienced for the last several years was more than what you deserved and needed, but he still provided it. If you returned to the night court you wouldn’t have known where you stood in the court. What your rank would be, what your friends thought of you, and where to even pick back up in your life. You just knew you haven’t felt this alive in awhile, and you craved the feeling.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

[x] next chapter

Let me know your thoughts, and feel free to like and reblog! I might change the title but that’s tbd.

471 notes · View notes

fanttasttica · 2 months

Text

Family

Helion x reader, Rhysand x daughter reader

You never knew your parents and yourself. One day you decide to leave your home and try to find something about yourself and your family. You come to the Day court, where you meet their cunning High lord, who also happens to be your mate. But your mate isn't the only person you found..

warnings: mentions of nudity

words: 2764

It was a nice summer day. A wind gently caressed your cheeks, as you were looking at your friends, who were enjoying the day with their families. Fathers, mothers.. siblings. That was a luxury you have never known. You never knew your father or mother. The closest thing you had to parents were Christian and Lucille, who found you one day and raised as their own. You actually thought they were your parents, until they came clean when you reached your eighteen birthday. They knew you deserve the truth. Since then, you were jealous and happy at the same time for your friends, who had families on their own. You were watching them from a smaller distance, as they were laughing together wishing you could have something like that too. Not that you were not grateful for Christian and Lucille, you loved them but.. You wanted to find out who your parents were. Whose violet eyes were looking at you in the mirror? Did you have the same black hair as your mom? Was your smile similar to the smile of your father? Those were questions you earned an answer for.

You grew up in the mountains in Night court. Your village was quite small, nothing extraordinary here. It was not far from the borders the Night court shared with the Day court. You could walk there maybe after two or three hours. That means that sometimes you meet people traveling between these two courts. People who were more than willing to share stories. That was how you found out about Amarantha being dead. You knew her, of course you did. Everyone in Prythian did. She trapped all High lords under the mountain, took their powers.. They were helpless until one day a human girl named Feyre freed them. You were fascinated by her story. She was now your High lady, finally being happy with Rhysand, your High lord and you found that really nice. That they found each other after all that. You heard all stories about them and about other High lords and interesting people from travelers, merchants.. You were always listening to them very carefully, until one sunny day, when you decided to stop being the listener and become the traveler, narrator, yourself. It was an opportunity to get to know new places, people.. and maybe find out something about your parents.

“Are you sure you want to go? I mean..it can be really dangerous.” You smiled at your friends. “I am sure. I love you guys, I love this place but.. I just want to try and find out something about my parents, about me. And I think that's the thing I cannot accomplish here.” She sighed and nodded as a sign that she understands you. “Well.. I will not stop you, if that is really what you want. Just.. be careful and don't forget us.” You hugged her tight, trying to find back tears. “How could I ever forget you? You are my best friend, sister, even though we don't have the same parents. I will never forget you, don't worry. And also.. this isn't definitely the last time you see me. I will come back.”

It has been almost two months since you left. After almost a month of traveling, you came to the town which was surrounding the palace of Helion, the Day court´s High lord. Probably the sexiest male alive. You had only seen him once, from afar when he was walking and talking with some of his friends near the shop you worked. You found a job in a smaller café, simply because you needed money and you also quite quickly fell in love with the city and wanted to spend some time here. You weren't sure how long you were going to stay.. A few months? Year? But it didn't really matter. Your job did not only provide you with the money , no. It also helped you meet a few nice people you befriend and could spend time after work. It was nice, the days were not the same as in your old village. Every day brought something new, new skills you learned, new friends.. But the one day that stood out above all the days.. was the one when you met your mate.

It was almost noon when the bell rang and he walked into the café, where you were currently working. Helion stood in the doorway and was looking around the place as if he was searching for something, or rather someone. And then, suddenly, he looked at you, his already big smile grew even bigger. At that same moment, you felt something in your chest, in your heart. Mating bond. It snapped immediately, taking the air from your lungs. You blinked a few times, not daring to move or look away from his gaze as he walked closer to you. “Hello my little sunshine.”

From that moment, you didn't spend a day without a stolen moment with Helion. You found out that he already knew about the mating bond. It snapped for him a few minutes before he came in, as he was casually walking around the café. He saw you and needed only a few minutes before you he plucked up the courage to go talk to you. You decided to take things slowly. He was coming to the café, where you chatted when you were working. After a week he invited you to a date, to a beautiful restaurant, theater, then he took you on the picnic.. And that's basically how you ended up waking up in his large bed, with nothing but sheets on your naked body.

You two were seeing each other for almost three months. It was already winter, but that did not bother you. Helion was hugging you, his big and warm body was better than any blanket in the whole world. You were enjoying this quiet morning in his embrace, when you felt he was already waking up. His breathing changed and grip on you strengthened, as if he also wasn't ready to wake up and leave your bed. You giggled at him, whereupon he grunted. “Is there something funny, sunshine?” You sighed happily. “Just one certain High lord who is behaving like a little child who doesn't want to share his toy with anyone else.” He chuckled, turned you around, so you were now lying on your back on the comfortable mattress and he was towering over you in all his glory. You bit your lips at this sight. “But I don't want to share you with anyone else.” He started placing soft kisses on your neck, which was full of hickeys from the previous night. “I don't think that's possible. My shift is starting in an hour and you also have a lot of work.” You argued, trying to keep your thoughts clear, even though the idea of spending the whole day with your mate in bed was more than tempting. “That's why I want you to quit. You know I can take care of you, I want to take care of everything you need or want” This time it was you who chuckled at his idea. “And what would I do? Spend all my time in your bed, waiting for you to return? It would be boring.” You caressed his beautiful face. Admiring his beauty, before he spoke again. “You could always come with me to the meetings, sit on my lap and warm me.” He winked at you, as you punched him slightly in his biceps. After that his face grew more serious. “I love you Y/N. More than my court, more than the sun, more than everything else.. Just say you want this and I promise I will give you everything in the world. I will make you my High lady. My equal. Just one word is enough.”

It wasn't that hard a decision. You loved Helion with your whole being. You couldn't imagine a day without him. So you finally agreed. You gave him your answer that day, in the evening, when you served him dinner made by you. It was simple, private and even though Helion was known for parties, he really appreciated this. Mainly because after the meal he could immediately take to to the bedroom and fuck you all night without any disturbance. The only thing that was left to declare you his High lady. You urged him to wait a little. When you officially accepted the bond you also moved to his palace the next day and you simply wanted to get used to the new surroundings and to the bond, which was now stronger than before. He of course agreed to your wishes. But you still were slowly making plans for the celebration, because you decided to make this event publicly. Helion thought that it was only fair for his, yours, people to have an opportunity to witness this moment, when the first High lady of the Day court was crowned. And believed him, wanting to also make people happy, to make a good first impression and that was probably not possible if you were hiding in the shadows on that important day. You also decided to invite your and some of Helion's friends, which also included some other High lords and their families. You personally invited Thesan - High lord of the Dawn court, High lord of the Winter court and his wife, Tarquin, who was Hugh lord of the Summer court and lastly.. High lord, High lady of the Night court and their Inner circle.

Before every meeting with other High lords you were incredibly nervous and Helion was trying to calm you down as he could and he was successful, but this time.. It was different and you weren't sure why you felt this way. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, your hands were sweating.. Maybe because you were supposed to meet the only other High lady that existed? Or maybe you were just nervous because you have heard a lot of stories about all of them? Rhysand was the most powerful High lord, his mate had powers of all seven High lords and her sisters were made by the Cauldron.. Not mentioning Cassian and Azriel, who were alive for more than five hundred years and killed more people than you have met in your lifetime. “Don't worry Y/N. They are really nice and don't bite more than me and you are already used to that.” Helion winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. This was something about him that you absolutely loved and at the same time found annoying. He was such a flirt. “I know and I believe you. Honestly.. I am not sure why I am so nervous.” You as and at the same time tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Before your mate could respond to you, you heard the sound of the door opening. You looked behind you and to your surprise you met the same eyes you had and they stared back at you in shock.

There was silence as the others entered the room as well. They were looking at you with shocked expressions and you returned it, mainly to the man that had the same eyes as you. And after a few moments you noticed that the eyes were not the only thing you shared. You also had the same hair, similar features. In the end it was Helion who broke the silence. “I.. I never realized that.” It wasn't surprising he was not very receptive to these things. “That's.. How?” High lady asked, turning to face her mate, who also finally recovered from the shock. “I have no idea, Feyre darling.” He took a few steps towards you. You looked at Helion, not sure what to do. What to say. Was it even possible? Was this really your father or was it some cruel joke made by the Cauldron? How did it happen? “It's her.” You heard a sweet voice from the group. A girl, a woman, in a pink dress came closer. You shared a confused look with your mate. “The girl from my visions. Rhys's daughter.”

To this moment, the only person who almost made you faint was Helion but when that woman said those words.. You had to grab your mate's strong arms, because otherwise you would be laying on the ground. This did not go unnoticed by your father and your mate, who grabbed you by your waist, holding you firmly. It was not only supporting in standing, it was calming you at the same time. Your father looked with worry. “Are you okay?” He asked you, you nodded in response. “I am, it's just.. a shock.” He smiled at you. “That's understandable. It's a shock for both of us. Well.. for all of us. He turned to his mate and Inner circle, as if he was having a quick conversation with them. After that, they came closer, introducing themselves with bright smiles. You have learned that the lady who was obviously a seer was Elaine, sister of your father's mate. It was Feyre who introduced herself to you last. It was a little bit weird for you, since she was a little bit younger than you and practically your step-mother, but she seemed nice. “By the way, what are you doing here? And how did you find my daughter, Helion?” You almost forgot they didn't know. Inviting High lords to your celebration was also a moment when Helion introduced you to them as his mate for the first time. He looked down at you and you gave him a simple nod. “Well.. she is my mate. And also my future High lady. We wanted to invite you to the celebration personally.”

Once again, they were shocked, especially your newly found father, who was looking between you and Helion. You wanted to say something. Something that could make this situation a little bit less weird, but couldn't find the right words. In the end, silence was broken by Cassian's and Morrigan's augh. “Well, I did not see that coming.” Your aunt said with amusement in her voice. You smiled nervously, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the thin air. “Congratulations, it's amazing.” Feyre told you kindly and shook Rhysand's hand, so he would wake up from his trance. “Yeah.. congratulations.”He looked from you to Helion. “You better make her happy.” His words warmed up your heart. It was nice of him to look after you only after knowing you for maybe ten minutes. Maybe you were an adult, but that didn't mean you couldn't create a loving bond with him. After the first shock, you finally felt happiness. You had a parent! A father! And at that moment you realized something. With a hope in your eyes you turned to Elaine. “Do you also know who my mother is?”

The smile on her face and the faces of the others froze. Well, except for you and Helion, since you didn't know anything. Elaine swallowed hard, making eye contact with both your father and Feyre, again having some type of silent conversation. After a while, your father sighed. “Your mother.. Well.. Things get a little bit complicated here.” He breathed out. “Maybe you already heard of her. It is.. Amarantha.” It had to be incredibly hard for him to say that. After he said that, he looked away, hurt from memories that came back only after saying her name out loud.

Of course you were in shock after finding out who your parents were. Being the daughter of the most powerful High lord and also a person who imprisoned not only him, but also your mate and a lot of other people.. Being the daughter of the person who killed and who was the main villain of many people's nightmares wasn't the best thing that could happen to you. But you were lucky to have your mate and also your father on your site. After finding out, you were really sad, angry, ashamed and also worried about what other people would think. What would Helion think? But luckily, he didn't care at all. He supported you, when you were recovering from the news and trying to accept them. He supported you when you tried and later successfully created a bond with your father, but also Feyre and their Inner circle. You were very lucky to have him, to have all of them. You finally had your own happy family.

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marvelmusing · 6 months

Text

Starlight, Star Bright

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Star Summoner!Reader

Summary: The arrival of the sun summoner - your darling Alina - changes everything for you and Aleksander.

Warnings [18+]: canon level violence and death, mentions of death, nightmares, use of sleeping tonics, anxiety, mentions of Luda x Reader x Aleksander, angst, smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mentions of masturbation, smidge of corruption/innocence kink, Alina had a strict and conservative upbringing

My Masterlist

Alina’s concentration face is rather adorable. Dark brows furrowed together, pink lips parted, and a tiny peek of her tongue can be seen at the corner of her mouth. It hadn’t been intentional - watching her like this. But the library at the Little Palace is one of your favourite places to hide from your duties and seeing her here feels like an unexpected treat.

Her concentration dissolves into frustration, plush lips pressing into a firm line, then emotion seems to overwhelm her. A redness has crept over her throat which bobs rapidly and her dark eyes blink in an embarrassed flurry. When you realise she’s holding back tears, you move towards her without thinking.

It’s only once you spot the mountain of books surrounding her, piled up over the desk in heaps, that you begin to suspect what has caused her distress.

“Good evening, Miss Starkov,” you say softly.

She looks up at you hurriedly and the action has tears filling her waterline which she quickly attempts blink away. A piece of your heart snaps away, quivering in your chest, aching at the thought of seeing tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Shu isn’t the easiest language to learn, but once you understand the basics the rest will follow.”

A bright blush spreads over her cheeks and her gaze lowers to the open book in front of her. When you see her chin wobble slightly, your stomach twists, and you add,

“Can I offer you a recommendation?”

She looks up at you again, nodding slowly.

Moving over towards a nearby shelf, you search for a particular book, pulling it carefully from its place and settling it down in Alina’s lap.

“It’s a book of fables,” you explain quietly. She tilts her head, eyeing the cover. “It might seem a little childish, but I find it to be one of the best ways to introduce someone to a new language.”

She begins to turn the pages with infinite care, her delicate fingers tracing over the illustrations inside.

“Would-”

Her words falter.

“Yes?”

She shakes her head, a pretty blush warming her cheeks.

“No. It’s silly.”

“Alina-” Her eyes snap up to yours at the sound of her name from your lips and your own voice falters. “May I call you Alina?” She nods and you smile softly. “I want you to feel at home here, in the Little Palace. There’s nothing you can’t ask of me.”

From what you’ve heard from her tutors, Alina has been struggling with Grisha theory, alongside her physical training. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes and the way she pushes her food around her plate at dinner every night, she hasn’t been able to summon very well either.

Anything you can do to make her feel better, you vow to do it. Particular memories have concerns stirring in your stomach. For centuries, you had been by Aleksander’s side, masquerading as the Darkling’s otkazat’sya wife.

It was only when Aleksander presented his newest alias at court, General Kirigan, that you revealed your power to the world - Ravka’s only star summoner. The sudden pressure you felt to help your country, alongside the expectations of your fellow Grisha, had made you almost ill with worry. Everyone had hoped your light would have been able to destroy the Fold.

Alina squares her shoulders a little, seemingly drawing some confidence from your encouragement.

“Would you read it to me?” she asks.

There’s a small pause as you look at her, your expression softening at the sight of her looking so flustered.

“I’d love to.”

She smiles and the sight has the breath halting in your lungs. She shuffles back slightly as you sit down beside her, your fingers brushing against her clothed knee as you take the book from her lap.

“Each of the stories are only a handful of pages in length. I could read them in Shu first, then again in Ravkan - if you would like that?”

Her eyes widen, something hopeful glimmering in their dark depths.

“You don’t mind?” she asks shyly. You shake your head.

“Not at all.”

»»---------------------►

Reading to Alina soon becomes one of your favourite things in the world - a guilty pleasure of sorts to escape from the stress of helping Aleksander run the Second Army.

One night, she comes to your door with the book of Shu fables in her arms tucked against her chest.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits in a hoarse whisper and you wonder whether she has nightmares too. Instantly you take her hand, pulling her gently into your bedroom.

She settles at the head of your bed, plush pillows and velvet cushions bundled up around the two of you. With a flick of your fingers, you summon enough light to read by. Alina is entranced by your starlight, eyes wide as she stares up at the miniature constellations swirling above your heads.

As you read stories aloud in her mother’s language, Alina slowly inches her head down onto your lap so that she can watch the tiny stars shining down on you both. This provides you with the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers lightly through her hair. At your request, Genya has been taking care of Alina and her hair is much softer and fuller than when she first arrived at the Little Palace.

The darkness of her eyes offers a perfect reflection of your stars and every time you risk a glance at her you’re captivated by the sight. Some of the tension slips away from her body and a low, sleepy sigh falls from her lips. Her eyes flutter closed.

»»---------------------►

It isn’t surprising that the sun summoner loves to sit in the sunlight. After all, even before you could summon, you’ve always adored a starry night sky. But seeing Alina soak up the sun, her head tilted back, eyes closed, has your steps faltering as you watch her. She’s so beautiful like this, waiting for you at the foot of an oak tree in the grounds.

Aleksander is nearby, tending to the horses used by the two of them on their morning ride. Alina is sitting on his kefta, using it as a blanket to shield her legs from the cool dew of the grass beneath her.

When she notices your presence, a luminous smile brightens up her features. It isn’t long before the two of you have settled into your familiar rhythm. Alina lies down with her head in your lap whilst you read to her. The story you’ve selected for today is an unacknowledged favourite of Alina’s.

Once you’ve finished the story, you take a moment to admire Alina. Her eyes remain closed, lashes fanned over her cheekbones. There’s a sun kissed glow over her cheeks, her skin tone revitalised by her time in the sun - and her increase in summoning.

When her eyes open slowly, she blinks up at you, though you don’t shy away from her gaze. She smiles softly, sitting up slowly to face you.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks quietly, tucking a stray hair back from her face as the breeze drags at her dark locks.

Tilting your head aside, you study the nervous press of her lips and the way her eyes shift over the grass, avoiding your gaze. Then you nod slowly.

“In the story,” she begins, head inclined towards the book lying open in your lap. “The princess and the fairy… they get married.”

A subtle frown creases at your brows before you nod again.

“They… I’m not getting the translation wrong, am I? They’re both girls.”

“Yes, Alya. They’re both girls.”

“And that’s allowed?”

“I’m sure a few more conservative members of the nobility might have something to say about it, but yes, it’s allowed.”

Alina seems deep in thought, staring at a particular leaf as it is carried away by the breeze.

“Nadia flirts with girls,” she states.

“She does,” you agree.

“Sometimes, when I was in the First Army, someone would make a joke about two girls tumbling each other…” Her voice trails off slightly, her cheeks glowing a rosy pink with embarrassment as she adds, “But I didn’t know… girls actually do that with each other.”

You nod with a small smile, a knowing glimmer in your eyes.

“They do.”

The pink on her cheeks burns to a deep red, her mouth open with a question poised on her tongue. She’s adorable, innocent and flustered and curious. The sound of long grass rustling draws your attention over to Aleksander, who seems to be making his way towards you and Alina.

“Enjoying yourselves?” he asks with a tender smile, the affection in his gaze is obvious to you after years of learning to decipher his emotions.

When you glance back at Alina, there’s a spark of alarm in her eyes, widened as she looks almost pleadingly at you.

“I was just telling Alina about the trail around the lake,” you inform Aleksander. There’s a questioning tilt to his head, observing your lie instantly. Nevertheless, he nods and turns his attention onto her.

“Perhaps we could take that route on our next ride around the grounds.”

She smiles softly, shooting you a grateful look before she glances at Aleksander. Her smile widens when their eyes meet and she nods bashfully.

“I’d like that.”

»»---------------------►

“Healer! Is there a healer here!?”

Aleksander’s voice is hoarse, a guttural cry for help that has you stumbling to your feet, hurrying through the makeshift rooms of the Grisha sanctuary. Voices and the sound of frantic movement aid you in your search for him, your heart pounding in your chest as fright fills you.

“The best we have is a tailor,” someone says. “We were waiting for Luda.”

At the mention of your other lover’s name, the tidemaker’s words falter and you rush quickly towards them. Luda is lying limply in Aleksander’s arms, blood staining her clothing. He places her on a cot, smoothing her hair back once she’s settled.

“Luda,” you cry. “No.”

At the sound of your voice, Aleksander stands back, attempting to grasp your arm as you approach - to shield you from seeing her state. His hold is weak and you slip by him easily, sinking yourself onto the bed beside her.

Luda’s eyes flutter, the pain limiting her awareness, though she manages to hold your hand weakly. There’s a sickening twist in your stomach when you see the wound, blood flowing at a frightening speed. Tears fill your eyes as you smile softly at her, trying your hardest to be brave for her.

There are no other healers in the sanctuary. Even if you could staunch the bleeding, she has already lost too much blood and the damage looks too deep for a tailor to fix.

“It isn’t bad, milaya,” you assure her. “You just need some rest.”

Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to her forehead, cool to the touch yet damp with perspiration. Hovering over her, you wait for the sound of her next breath. It doesn’t come.

A broken cry catches in your throat, the beginning of a sob, as you sink onto the cold stone floor beside the cot. Hot tears spill over your cheeks, dripping down onto your lap as you curl in on yourself, shoulders shaking with the weight of your anguish.

The two of you had grown up in the same village. She had been the first person to see your starlight. Your first kiss. She’s the one who always soothes your heartbeat when it quickens with anxiety.

Luda had been the one to nudge you towards the mysterious Darkling, stating with flushed cheeks that she would not mind sharing you with such a handsome man. Innocently, you had laughed and shaken your head at her, completely unaware of Aleksander’s eyes on you both.

She had been so determined to gain an amplifier, to stay with you and Aleksander for as long as she could. Deep down, you know some part of her had craved a forever with you both. To see that slip away so quickly has your throat closing up with emotion.

“Just mortal,” Aleksander murmurs quietly.

Lifting your head, you manage to meet his gaze. He looks just as broken as you feel, his eyes filled with a grief so tangible you want to grasp hold of it, take it by the throat and throttle it. A wounded cry escapes you as Aleksander curls his hand around your wrist and you begin to sob in earnest.

Aleksander wakes you, fingers curling firmly around your wrists when you begin to struggle in his arms, still in the throes of your anxious slumber. When you realise where you are, and who is holding you, your body slumps defeatedly against him.

Aleksander lets you cry, allowing your grief to course through your body as you sob. He keeps you close, stroking a hand down your side as he murmurs gentle reminders to you - to continue breathing through your tears and that he’s here for you.

When your sobs relent, you manage to sit up beside him, the two of you leaning against the headboard.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you sniffle. He retrieves a handkerchief for you, smoothing the soft cotton over your damp cheeks.

“Don’t be.” He pauses, eyeing your features with concern before he asks softly, “Luda?”

Closing your eyes, your expression crumples as you nod.

“First love always leaves it’s scars,” he murmurs, tracing his finger over the jagged skin tissue that curls over the slope of your shoulder - from the tip of your shoulder blade through your collarbone. The scar from the volcra, when you had escaped the Fold during its creation.

There’s a small scar at the corner of Aleksander’s eyebrow, one that you reach for now. He had gained it when he was thirteen, and he still rubs at the spot when he’s been working too long. There’s another scar, from the same incident, that runs over the length of his calf.

“Let me fetch you a sleeping draught.”

“Aleksander, I don’t need-”

“You look tired, my love.”

The concern in his voice has your hand lowering to your lap, your gaze following it as you remark quietly,

“You know I don’t like taking tonics.”

He nods. Aleksander rarely suggests such a solution, since the sleeping draughts put you in an immobilised state, where your limbs become too heavy to move. He knows you hate the lack of control, and the alarming decrease in your awareness.

“I know. But your nerves are overwrought, and a deep dreamless sleep will fix that.” He strokes your cheek gently. “I will watch over you, I promise. We’re safe. No one will hurt us here.”

A warm tear spills down your cheek, which he brushes away tenderly with the pad of his thumb. Breathing in shakily, you nod in consent. As Aleksander leaves the bed, the mattress dips and you bite back a whimper at the loss of his warm presence.

Leaning your head back against the headboard, you allow your heavy eyes to flutter closed as the sound of pouring liquid reaches your ears. Metal clinks lightly against porcelain as he stirs the sleeping draught for you.

He stokes the fire, encouraging a little more warmth into the room, before scooping up some burning coals to fill the warming pan.

With a tender smile at you, he lifts the covers at the foot of the bed, slotting the pan between the sheets to keep you cosy. Affection buzzes in your chest, an adoring smile quirking at your lips as you watch him.

He rounds the bed, sitting down by your side with a tea cup in his hands which he holds out for you to drink from.

“A few sips will suffice,” he says in a low voice.

Holding his gaze, you swallow down a small mouthful of the bitter liquid. He smiles softly when he sees your nose wrinkle at the taste. Aleksander hooks a finger under your chin, keeping your mouth close to the lip of the cup.

“Just a little more, my love.”

Somewhat reluctantly, you drink another mouthful and Aleksander casts the cup aside.

He settles you in his lap, tucking you against his chest as the draught begins to take effect. A haze clouds over your thoughts, filling your body with a limp heaviness. When you whimper quietly, Aleksander strokes a hand down your spine, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead as he hushes you. He continues murmuring comforting words to you.

As your eyelids flutter, your breathing shifting into something more heavy and rhythmic, Aleksander pulls the two of you down under the covers.

»»---------------------►

“Aleksander!” you hiss quietly. He slows his pace slightly, turning back to reach for your hand. “I think you’re forgetting I can’t see in the dark as well as you can.”

“Then summon some light.”

“What if someone sees?”

“No one is awake at this hour.”

Sighing, you summon a low twinkle of starlight, faint galaxies billowing like wisps of smoke around your ankles to light your way. Aided by your stars, you follow Aleksander through the darkened corridors of the Little Palace. He stops at a familiar room, releasing your hand as he turns to look at you.

Quietly, you knock against Alina’s door.

There’s a beat of silence and you both strain your ears, listening for any sound of movement from within her room. Slowly, Alina seems to rouse herself from her bed, moving towards the door. Her eyes widen as she looks at you and Aleksander, a frown creasing at the space between her brows.

“Um, hello?”

“I know you were upset that you couldn’t join your friends at the banya,” you say in a low voice.

Her gaze lowers, her feet shifting in her slippers as a subconscious pout puckers at her lips.

“It’s fine,” she says quietly. “I know you were both just concerned about my safety.”

Despite the guilt stirring in your stomach at the thought of Alina missing out on time with her friends, the smile growing on your face is hard to suppress as you consider the idea you’re about to propose to her.

“Well, we were thinking…” you trail off, looking expectantly at Aleksander. He smiles indulgently.

“That there is no one safer for you to be with than us.” Her eyes widen with excitement at Aleksander’s words and you add,

“It’s a warm night and the water at the lake will be the perfect temperature for a swim.”

“You mean…” Her smile is infectious and you’re smiling too as you ask her,

“Where’s your bathing dress?”

She frowns.

“My what?”

“Bathing dress. Genya told me you have one.”

She glances back into her room, eyes darting between her cabinet, vanity table, and her wardrobe.

“Would you like me to help you find it?” you ask. She nods.

It doesn’t take you long to locate the garment, folded carefully in the bottom drawer of the cabinet beside the window. Aleksander sits at her vanity table and you perch yourself on the end of the bed whilst Alina changes behind the folding screen in the corner of her room.

She steps out rather shyly, fidgeting with the hem of the dress while you and Aleksander stare, captivated by her.

The skirt of Alina’s bathing dress stops mid thigh and the neckline dips enough for you to catch a glimpse of her cleavage despite the modest capped sleeves which cover her shoulders. The fabric hugs her body comfortably, though you’re certain once the water has soaked through the material it will cling sinfully to her every curve.

Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze lowered to avoid your gaze as her fingers graze over the hemline of the dress, fingers playing nervously with the fabric. When she finally finds the courage to meet Aleksander’s eyes - then your own - her blush deepens.

Saving her from further embarrassment, you extend a hand out towards her which she takes instantly. A smile spreads over your features as her fingers curl around yours.

“Let’s go for a swim.”

»»---------------------►

Alina’s head lifts the moment she hears her door open. The smile that spreads over her features has your stomach flipping and she lowers her pen to give you her full attention from where she’s sitting at her vanity table.

“Good evening, Alina.”

Her smile brightens as she wraps her bath robe tighter around her body.

“Good evening.”

There’s ink smudges on her fingertips and your eyes peek around her to examine the pieces of parchment strewn over the table. When she catches your gaze, you lift a brow questioningly.

“Drawing?”

She shakes her head.

“I was just writing another letter for Mal.”

Sadness creeps into her expression and guilt stirs in your stomach.

“Alina-”

At the sound of her name on your lips, she lifts her head, eyes scouring over your face and your words fade as you lose your courage. But Alina deserves the truth.

“All letters that leave the Little Palace are read by either myself or Aleksander, to ensure that no important information falls into the wrong hands.”

She stiffens slightly, embarrassment touching her features.

“You mean you’ve read my letters to Mal?”

Guilt settles in your stomach as you shake your head.

“No.” She frowns, then you pull out a bundle of letters from the pocket of your kefta. “They haven’t been sent.”

She remains still, eyes fixed on the stack in your hand.

“I haven’t opened them. I wanted to tell you that Aleksander and I check letters so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. I was going to tell you… but the days went by and I just kept forgetting.”

Every word is the truth. Though it isn’t the whole truth. In all honesty, your reluctance to tell her about the letters is most likely an attempt at keeping her for yourself. Tears glimmer in her eyes and it sickens you that your selfishness is the reason for her distress. She shifts away from you and there’s a physical pain in your chest.

“I told you he hadn’t written back,” she says quietly, a quiver in her voice as she stares down at the envelopes. “You said he would soon. You told me there had been problems with the mail carriers. You lied to me.”

“Alina-”

She shakes her head, stepping away again, and you force your features to harden, shoving the hurt in your chest deep down. It twists inside you, making you step towards her and place the letters down on her table.

“I thought I should give these back to you. I’m certain you will choose your words more carefully, now that you know Aleksander and I will read every word that you write.”

It’s cruel, throwing the feelings you know she has for you and Aleksander in her face. Her cheeks flush red, anger and embarrassment flashing over her features as she looks away from you. The beginning of tears glisten in the corner of her eyes and you turn towards the door before you can see them fall.

»»---------------------►

A familiar presence lingers at the open doorway to your bedroom as you continue folding your trousers up, placing them in your trunk for the third time this morning.

“Sasha, would you pass me the…”

As you turn, your words are halted by the sight of Alina hesitating at the threshold of your room. She hasn’t spoken to you since that night in her rooms, turning away when she sees you in the grounds and keeping her gaze lowered when she passes you in the corridors.

“Alina.”

“You’re leaving.”

You nod.

“I’m going to oversee the new campaign on the Fjerdan frontlines.”

Aleksander had only casually suggested it but you had leapt at the opportunity, believing you need some fresh air and a chance to use your power productively.

There’s a pause as Alina steps towards you, almost cautiously. Her gaze is lowered, searching over your belongings that have been strewn across your bed.

“Can I write to you?” she asks.

There’s a twinge of guilt in your chest at the mention of letters, though the softness of Alina’s features express no ill will in regards to her unsent letters to Mal.

“Of course. I can’t promise my replies will be detailed or lengthy, but I would love to hear from you, Alina.”

She fidgets with her fingers, nails picking at her cuticles.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“I plan to return just before the Winter Fete.”

Her eyes widen.

“That long?”

“It’s only a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

»»---------------------►

The problem with being the person who censors letters within the Second Army is that you find it all too easy to remove what has been written on the page.

»»---------------------►

Alina,

I should have told you about the letters. I know this is a cowardly way to apologise, but seeing so many casualties today - knowing there will be more tomorrow - has made me reflective as it always does.

Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you.

»»---------------------►

Moi Sashenka,

My official report on the front has been sent and hopefully you will have received it by the time this letter reaches you.

Fjerda is as cold as it always is and I hate being so far from you. Too many times I find myself longing for your advice or your embrace. I miss you, Sasha.

I miss Alina too. How is Alina? I hope her lessons have improved and that she’s feeling more settled. Could you remind her that she can write to me? I’m afraid I’ve ruined us.

Take care, as always

Forever yours

»»---------------------►

One particular letter you set alight with your starlight, watching the paper crumble as the flames remove your words from existence. That night you sleep curled in on yourself, old grief burrowing it’s way into your chest as you remember a girl with hopeful eyes the same colour as the sky.

She slips into your dreams, gentle hands holding you. The bed is warm, soft sheets caressing your naked bodies. Aleksander’s touch is familiar, like being welcomed home. He kisses you. She kisses you. A featherlight brush of her lips, before you’re sinking a hand into her hair to deepen the kiss with a fierce longing to keep her like this. It feels so real.

The tears have scarcely dried over your cheeks as you wake. The sounds of your army rousing itself from slumber draws you out of your bittersweet state, grounding you as you stare up at the cloth ceiling of your tent.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander folds his arms over his chest, drawing his bath robe tighter around his body as he looks over the map on his table. A chill brushes over his skin when his eyes land on the collection of figures placed by the Fjerdan border. Immediately his thoughts fall onto you.

The two of you aren’t often parted from each other; you’ve been one another’s constant companion for the last few centuries and he feels the temporary loss of you in his chest.

It appears he isn’t the only one who feels your absence. He turns at the sight of movement in the corner of his eye, shoulders tensing as the shadows stir at his subconscious command. They dissolve the moment his gaze falls onto her face.

“Alina.”

She tucks her hair back shyly.

“Am I disturbing you?”

He shakes his head.

“Not at all. Come in, please.”

He watches Alina’s eyes bounce over the contents of his table and can’t help but notice that she also lingers on the spot where your camp is. As she approaches him, she keeps her gaze lowered, looking over the pages in front of him.

Then she spies your letters.

“Is this from-”

Aleksander says your name softly, nodding as his fingers trace affectionately over the loops of your handwriting. His eyes skim over the words, reading between the lines of your ink in a manner only he can.

“She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” she admits in a whisper.

He gestures for her to sit in the armchair by the fire which she does, quietly tucking her knees beneath herself, bundling the fabric of her night robe closer around her body. Aleksander watches her, leaning back against the war table, his palms splayed over maps and papers.

He looks at her for a long moment, admiring her features as the firelight dances over them. There’s a contemplative furrow to his brows as he thinks of a promise he made to you before you left for the frontlines.

“Alina, I have something to tell you but I want you to make me a promise first.”

She eyes him somewhat warily. In your absence, the two of them have grown considerably closer, but you had been the one to coax Alina out of her shell.

“What’s the promise?” she asks.

“That you won’t leave.”

Her expression softens.

“Aleksander-”

“I want you to give me your word, that you will listen to everything I have to say tonight. Afterwards, if you would like to leave I will provide you with whatever resources I can to ensure you a safe journey.”

She’s frighteningly still, wide eyed like a rabbit weighing up the threat of a potential predator. He watches her swallow, steeling herself before she nods curtly in agreement. The knot in his chest begins to loosen slightly, though he dreads her reaction to what he’s about to tell her. He can only hope that you are right.

»»---------------------►

Dear Alina,

I know winter has already arrived for you in the capital. Whenever I begin to fear that frostbite has taken my toes, I picture you curled up by the fire with Aleksander. Home has never felt further from me, even as the date of my return inches closer.

I hope you will be happy to see me. I long for you. The silence has been torture.

I have enclosed another letter, which I hope you might be able to pass along to Aleksander. There has been little time to write these days and ink is scarce. Give him my love. I hope you have a happy Yuletide.

»»---------------------►

Sasha,

There is a Yuletide gift for you underneath your bed. Alina’s gift is under my bed. Kiss her under the mistletoe for me.

All my love

»»---------------------►

My dearest Alya,

Fjerda is cold and I miss your warmth.

I hope that I reach you before this letter does. We begin our return to Os Alta today. I’m coming home.

»»---------------------►

As soon as you arrive back at the Little Palace, you find yourself drawn to Aleksander’s room, abandoning your trunk in your bedroom and seeking solace in the war room. The moment you set your eyes on him, the months-long tension leaves your shoulders and you stumble into his open arms.

Aleksander doesn’t have an opportunity to speak, as you grasp hold of his hair and drag his mouth down to yours. As soon as your lips meet, the leftover strain in your body and mind melts. The sigh that leaves you is fuelled by relief.

“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, unable to articulate anything else.

His hands cup your face, mouth moving eagerly against your own. After months of not being able to see one another, without touching one another, you’re both desperate.

“I forbid you from leaving the Little Palace for the foreseeable future,” he says, an edge of command in his tone.

“Yes, moi soverenyi,” you breathe against his lips.

A growl catches in the back of his throat and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound as white hot arousal coils in your stomach. He tugs you closer, hooking his hands beneath your legs to hoist you up into his arms. His next words are breathless, interrupted by your hurried kisses as he carries you into the bedroom.

“If it weren’t for the damned fete tomorrow, I would forbid you from leaving this bed.”

His mouth trails down your body, pressing hot kisses over your skin. A simmering tingle of pleasure shudders down your spine with each firm brush of his lips or stroke of his tongue. Heat creeps over your cheeks, as you realise your moans are getting louder and more desperate.

Once his mouth finally reaches your cunt, a sharp yelp falls from your lips. Holding onto his hair always encourages Aleksander, so your attempts to ground yourself only entice him further into your cunt. Slick arousal smears over his lips and chin as he devours you, leaving no inch of you untouched by his tongue.

He holds each of your hands in his as he works your body into a quivering climax that has tears spilling down your cheeks, relief soaking into your skin now that you’re finally home.

Aleksander’s expression softens as he observes your pitiful state. There’s a tremor in your legs that he attempts to coax out of you, smoothing his palms firmly over your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the sore muscle of your calves.

“Oh my love,” he coos. “You didn’t touch yourself at all while you were gone, did you?”

You shake your head.

“Didn’t feel right without you,” you admit, wiping the tears from your cheeks as they continue to pour. “Didn’t feel safe enough.”

A soft sigh heaves at his shoulders as he lowers himself over you, kissing his way up your body. He knows that feeling all too well, something he had hoped you would never experience again.

He sheds the rest of your clothing, tossing his own down onto the floor until your bare skin meets his. Sheer pleasure prickles through your body at the opportunity to feel his body against yours. Smooth skin, both of you marred with callouses and scars. The trail of hair down his stomach. Lean muscle and soft flesh. A soft moan escapes from your lips as his hips grind gently into yours.

“I have you now, my love,” he breathes out against your collarbone, mouthing over your throat. “You’re safe.” He reinforces his words with a firm kiss to the underside of your jaw. “You’re home.” Another kiss, a little higher. “Let me take care of you.”

“How is Alina?” you ask breathlessly.

He smiles down at you.

“She can summon at will now.” His mouth moves along your jawline. “For her Winter Fete display she plans to split sunbeams.”

He parts your thighs, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance before he eases himself forwards. A rough moan tears itself from the back of your throat as the feeling of Aleksander stretching you open floods through your body.

“She sleeps with your letters under her pillow each night.”

His words make your heart ache and your cunt clench around his cock, drawing a small hiss of surprise from him.

“I’ve missed her. I’ve missed you, Sasha.”

“I know, my love. I’ve missed you too,” he breathes out against your neck. “We talk about you all the time.”

He bites down on the juncture of your neck, teeth dragging on your skin before he strokes his tongue over the mark blooming there.

“You do?”

There’s a shy naivety in your voice, as if you can barely believe that the two people you adore most in the world would spend their time talking about you.

“She- she isn’t mad at me… is she?”

He kisses your cheek, his forehead pressing against your temple.

“No, my love. She isn’t mad at you.”

He moans quietly as your nails bite into his hips, clinging to him with an intensity that has you shaking. Aleksander kisses you, his mouth moving leisurely against yours. There is hardly a moment to breathe, with the head of Aleksander’s cock nudging against that sweet, sensitive spot inside you and the way he occupies your mouth.

Pleasure spirals in your stomach, as your cunt clenches tightly around his cock. Aleksander cries out a deep, startled sound. He grits his teeth, pressing his body directly into yours. Arching your back against the mattress, you grip onto Aleksander, writhing as your mind fights tooth and nail to resist the climax that your body is dragging you towards.

“Let go, my love,” he whispers, warm mouth suckling gently on your earlobe. “You’re safe, I have you. I promise.”

The next wave of pleasure that runs through you completely shatters whatever resolve had been subconsciously established in your mind. Another, rather unexpected, bout of tears trace down your cheeks and a small sob catches in the back of your throat as your climax peaks.

Aleksander continues his motions, thrusting into you as he cradles your face between his hands. He kisses your tears away as best he can whilst chasing his own climax. The shaky gasps of his name only entice him further, drawing a wrecked moan from his lips as he pulls out, spilling his sticky spend over your thighs.

The two of you remain in one another’s arms as you catch your breath, trading slow kisses and gentle touches. Aleksander’s fingers dance along the curves and dips of your body, following the path he knows by heart. As your eyes flutter closed, you link your fingers with his, giving them a gentle squeeze which he returns without hesitation.

Aleksander inhales sharply as you press a delicate kiss to his knuckles. In the absence of one another, it has been all too easy to forget the luxury of tender touches. There’s a softness to his features as he looks at you, tilting his head slightly to watch as you continue to kiss over each of his fingers.

“I told Alina about our past,” Aleksander confesses quietly. That has you freezing for a moment, eyes flickering up to study his face.

“How did she take it?”

His gaze lowers, his hand flexing slightly in your hold.

“She looked frightened at first. She had promised to listen to me, but I could see she was waiting to run.”

“What changed her mind?”

“You.”

A frown creases at your brows.

“I told her about you, about everything we’ve been through together. Everything we’ve lost over the years.” Emotion hardens in your throat, though you do your best to swallow it down. His tone grows regretful. “Even after everything I’ve done, you’ve remained by my side.”

“Because I love you,” you say quietly, pressing another kiss to his knuckles, squeezing his digits affectionately. “Because I know that everything you’ve done has been to keep us safe and keep our Grisha safe.” Tears well in Aleksander’s dark eyes. “How could I ever leave you - knowing that?”

He leans forward, cupping the back of your head to kiss you soundly.

»»---------------------►

Alina looks magnificent in black. The colour belongs to you as much as it belongs to Aleksander. To see her wearing your colour, her kefta perfectly moulded to her figure, drives the air from your lungs. She had been pale and gaunt when she first arrived at the Little Palace; it seems that your sun summoner has blossomed in your absence.

Aleksander moves towards her first, the crowd parting instantly for the three of you to meet.

“You were supposed to enter accompanied by palace guards,” he says in a low voice.

She blushes, her eyes bouncing between you and Aleksander.

“I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to see you.”

Her tone is shy, as if she truly hadn’t intended on diverting from Aleksander’s strict schedule for her safety. Aleksander blinks slowly, the corner of his lips twitching into a hint of a smile. His voice softens as he murmurs,

“You look lovely, by the way.”

The blush spreads down her neck and you lick your lips at the sight.

“Beautiful,” you add softly.

Her eyes darken as she meets your gaze and your stomach flips. She inclines her head demurely, a brief curtesy as she stares, seemingly drinking in the sight of you.

“Lieutenant.”

The only response you provide her is a brief tilt of your head.

“Miss Starkov.”

The urge to kiss her claws fiercely inside you, so strong that your lips tingle with a phantom anticipation. Her skin is glowing under the light of the chandeliers, her cheeks flushed prettily. Her lips have been coloured with a dewy layer of gloss that you want to feel smeared over your own mouth. Instead, you say,

“I look forward to your demonstration.”

She worries her lower lip between her teeth, brows furrowed slightly with concern before she manages to smile, somewhat distractedly. Her gaze lowers to the front of her kefta, as she begins to pick at the delicate embroidery there. Instantly, you curl your fingers around hers, halting her nervous fidgeting.

“I am certain it will be wonderful.”

Her inhale is sudden, her lips parted, eyes widened as they flicker rapidly between yours. Taking her hand to your lips, you press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She swallows hard.

Inferni flame illuminates her features as Polina and Pavel begin their demonstration, fire arching over your heads. As the deep orange flickers over her face, you keep your eyes on her, admiring the soft glow of her skin.

There’s a knowing glimmer in Aleksander’s eyes as he looks at you. He smiles, ducking his head down to murmur quietly against Alina’s ear,

“Let’s give them a real show.”

His lips graze her temple and she shivers.

»»---------------------►

“I have something to confess,” Aleksander murmurs quietly against your ear.

With the demonstrations and dinner done, the royals have long since left the party, as have the majority of the nobility. Now, the people surrounding you are Grisha, which means you feel comfortable enough to sit in Aleksander’s lap. His chest is pressed against your back, the heat of his body warming your spine.

A minute frown creases at the space between your brows, though your eyes don’t stray from where Alina is standing, hiding behind a column with Genya, a flute of sparkling wine in her hand. She giggles and you drink in the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

“Confess?”

His hands graze over your sides, his shadows slipping beneath your kefta to caress your body.

“I have been… tutoring Alina. Teaching her how to pleasure herself.”

You blink at him.

“Truly?”

He nods.

“She wants to touch you.”

“She does?”

He nods again, the bulge in his trousers hardening.

“Our darling Alya is rather shy. It took until she was bone limp with pleasure for her to admit it, but yes, she wants you.”

“You’ve touched her?”

“Not intimately.”

His answer has your frown returning.

“The poor girl can’t seem to relax enough without my touch to soothe her. A hand around her wrist, guiding her. Or a gentle pressure against her thighs. It took quite some time to convince her that she was allowed to touch herself.”

“From what she’s told me, the orphanage she grew up in was a conservative household. No doubt she feels embarrassed at the thought of wanting someone.”

From Aleksander’s expression, it’s clear that he is in agreement with you. Then the corner of his mouth lifts, a familiar darkness twinkling in his gaze.

“Now that she is aware of her desires, she is somewhat insatiable.”

The thought of innocent, wide eyed Alina throwing herself at your unflappable Aleksander is equal parts arousing and amusing. Thoughts of Alina touching herself, growing frustrated without him, and seeking out Aleksander to help her has a coil of need curling in your abdomen.

Aleksander smirks, lowering his mouth to graze against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low so that no one but you can hear him.

“I’ve seen her touching herself, and with the pretty shade of crimson her cheeks gain, I’m certain her fantasies verge on obscene.”

“She’s perfect,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“She is.”

His lips lower, trailing down your throat.

“Tonight?” you ask in a soft gasp.

“If you wish so,” he murmurs against your thundering pulse.

“I do. Sasha, I want her so badly.”

“I know.” He kisses your cheek softly. “Would you like her to yourself first?”

“I want her to come undone over my hand, while you watch us.”

He smiles widely.

“One condition.” You nod. “Afterwards, I want to teach Alina how to kiss your cunt.”

At the thought of them both between your thighs, trading slow kisses as they take turns licking and mouthing at your cunt, a small moan catches in the back of your throat. Aleksander curls his hand around your neck.

“She’s watching us.”

The inhale you take is shaky as you flutter your lashes.

“Now?”

He nods, squeezing at your throat gently. His nose brushes against yours delicately as he smiles indulgently at you as he whispers,

“Go to her.”

He releases his hold on you and warmth rushes to your cheeks as you wobble on unsteady feet. There’s a few eyes on you whilst making your way towards Alina, though they look away quickly after one glance in Aleksander’s direction.

Genya’s hazel eyes land on you, pink dusting over the porcelain skin of her cheeks when she sees how your gaze is fixed on Alina. She takes your sun summoner’s empty glass from her, making herself scarce with a knowing smile as you approach.

“Alina.” Her eyes widen, her gaze wandering from your lips downwards, lingering on the loosened neckline of your kefta, and your stomach flips. “I have a gift for you.”

She blinks in surprise.

“You do?”

A smile spreads over your face as you nod.

“Come see me later tonight, in Aleksander’s rooms. I will give it to you then.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander’s footsteps are smooth and confident as he walks through the war room, his boots echoing over the polished wood. It’s only once he reaches the threshold of his bedroom that his gait falters.

“Where in the name of all saints did you get that?”

Turning from your reflection in the mirror above his vanity table, a coy smile curls at your lips as you smooth down the sheer lace of nightgown.

“To your liking, General?”

He breathes out a sharp laugh.

“Poor Alina won’t know where to look.”

“And you know exactly where to look,” you remark teasingly, adjusting the belt so that the length of your bare leg is on display.

His smile is wide and dazzling as he steps purposefully forward towards you.

“I do.”

Lowering himself onto his knees, Aleksander parts your nightgown, ducking his head between your thighs to kiss over your lace clad mound. A sound of surprise catches in the back of your throat, which dissolves into a moan when his tongue traces eagerly over the crease between your thighs and your hips.

He chuckles when you squirm, his warm hands settling over each of your knees to hold you in place as his mouth moves over your skin.

“Sasha,” you gasp. He smirks teasingly, eyes darkened as he looks up from between your thighs.

“My love, we’ve barely begun.”

There’s a tentative knock at the door.

Aleksander releases his hold on you, smoothing his hands over the knees of his trousers as he stands in one fluid motion. He strolls over towards the door, threading a hand through his hair as he does so. Suddenly conscious of your appearance, you brush down the fabric of your night robe to preserve your modesty.

“Alina,” he says softly.

There’s a small pause, and you know the sight in front of Alina will have her blushing already - Aleksander with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair perfectly disheveled from delving between your thighs.

“Hello.”

“Please, come in.”

She’s dressed in her night dress, silk and lace clinging to her curves, with a velvet robe thrown over her shoulders. Her gaze bounces over the entirety of your body, unable to fix on any particular aspect before another steals her attention. She smiles as she approaches you.

“I actually have a gift for you as well.”

Rather shyly, she hands you a painted wooden box, wrapped in a sleek black ribbon. At the edge of the room, Aleksander circles around the two of you, watching silently.

The box is made of a wholesome wood, carved around the edge of the lid and along the sides. On every side, a detailed scene has been depicted in paint. The Little Palace, the True Sea, Morozova’s stag grazing in a sunlit meadow. Each brushstroke has been created with care and a skill you can only marvel at.

“Alina,” you whisper in awe.

She blushes.

“I painted it myself.”

Opening up the box, you stare at the contents for a long moment. Countless papers. Folded with care. Some of them are in envelopes, sealed with a rosy pink wax. Alina’s handwriting is instantly recognisable, looping ink on the creamy parchment.

“Are these-?”

“I didn’t want anyone but you to read them.” There’s a pause which weighs heavy over the room and Alina grows nervous. “If you don’t like it-”

“No. Alya, I love it,” you insist earnestly, tucking your hands around it protectively. Rather bashfully, you look down, tracing your fingers over the delicate brushstrokes. “My gift feels somewhat lacking now.”

“What… what is it?”

There’s a curious gleam in her eyes as she looks around you. Nervously, she tucks a stray hair back behind her ear as she sits tentatively at the foot of Aleksander’s bed. Slowly, you place her gift on the vanity table, your eyes examining her expression when you ask,

“Can I kiss you, Alina?”

Her eyes widen, and she blushes a bright shade of scarlet, then nods.

“I haven’t done this before,” she admits, a touch of worry spilling into her eyes. You smile at her.

“I know.” Inhaling slowly, you stand and walk over towards her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this.”

Taking her chin between your fingers, you guide her mouth to yours for a tender kiss. The soft press of her lips against yours is better than you could have imagined. Gentle and warm and the shimmering gloss tastes sweet like strawberries.

She gasps out a little sound of pleasure as you cradle the back of her head, while your other hand strokes along her jawline, encouraging the steady motion of her lips. Without thinking, your hands wander down her body, grasping at the silky fabric covering her. She’s panting for breath as you cup her breasts, mapping the curves of her waist with each of your palms.

With little effort, you move her backwards and she sinks down onto the mattress with ease. It’s only after several more kisses that she seems to realise she’s lying on her back, in your bed, with your body attempting to nestle between her thighs.

“Would you part your legs for me?” you ask against her mouth.

She complies slowly, a smidge of embarrassed hesitation in her movement. Instantly, you begin to move downwards, pushing the velvet robe aside before you slide the silk of her nightdress up over her waist.

“Good girl.” She whines at your praise, which only encourages you further. “What a good girl you are, Alya.”

Her hands cover her face, as you lick a stripe over her bare thigh, heading towards the apex of her legs. As your nose nudges against her clothed mound, your mouth waters at the heady scent of her arousal.

“Has Aleksander ever touched you here?” She peeks at you from between her fingers and you raise a brow at her, a wicked smile tugging at your lips when she nods. “He has?” She nods again, breathless already as you laugh teasingly. “Does he touch you with or without your underwear in the way?”

Her cheeks are inflamed, you can feel the heat of her body burning with arousal against your lips as you kiss across her hips and thighs.

“W- with my underwear on,” she stammers bashfully. “Always with it on.”

“Would you like me to take it off?” She stares at you wide eyed, as if she hadn’t even imagined you wanting to touch her so intimately. “Would you like me to stroke your bare cunt?”

She whimpers your name, dropping her head back against the pillow and you grin at the sight of her so disheveled already - from a few heated kisses and some dirty words.

“I-” She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you sure you want to?”

That has you growing still.

“Alina. Can I show you something?”

She nods hesitantly. Taking her hand, you entwine her fingers with yours. Slowly, you slide your joined hands down your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your night robe. Her eyes widen, lips parted in shock as her cheeks burn bright, though she doesn’t pull away even when you press her fingertips against your dripping entrance.

“Can you feel how much I want to, sweet girl?”

She nods.

“So soft.”

There’s a slight slur to her words, as if feeling your arousal has pushed her into a daze, and the temptation to push her fingers inside you prickles over your skin in a burning need. Her hand moves curiously, dipping into your centre, and you groan quietly at her hesitant touch.

Her gaze wanders down your body, before she becomes fixated on the spot between your legs.

“Yours is prettier than mine.”

“Alina,” Aleksander says sternly from where he’s seated himself at his vanity table. His tone has you clenching around nothing and a small pout puckers at her lips in response to his admonishment. “What have I told you about comparing yourself to others?”

Her pout deepens.

“Not to.”

“And why is that?”

She mumbles an answer that you can hardly hear, her cheeks inflamed with an embarrassed heat. Aleksander raises a brow, before prompting her to repeat herself, his tone remaining firm.

“Alina.”

“Because I’m beautiful,” she whispers, her voice wavering as she squeezes her eyes shut.

The smile you share with Aleksander, unseen by Alina, is devious. It seems you are no longer alone in your mission to improve Alina’s sense of self-worth.

Unable to stop yourself, you reward her with a kiss. Her robe slips easily from her shoulders, pooling over the mattress as you grasp at her body. She gasps at the feeling of your hands wandering, squirming beneath you with small sounds of pleasure that she breathes against your lips.

“Aleksander tells me he’s been tutoring you.”

The hint of a whine catches in the back of her throat, her cheeks hot with embarrassment at your words. She nods.

“Will you tell me what you’ve learnt? Will you tell me what you like, sweet girl?”

She bites down on her lip, the plush skin breaking between her teeth. Instantly, you lean forwards, suckling her lower lip to soothe the sting of her bite. The coppery taste of her blood touches the tip of your tongue and she moans louder when you lick over the sensitive spot.

“Tell me, Alina. Let me pleasure you.”

She whines again, a sweet noise that you want to tease out of her over and over again. Taking her hand again, you splay it between her breasts, using your own hand to smooth it down her body. Her thighs tremble.

“Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I- I like it gentle at first,” she stammers quietly, which has a smile quirking at the corner of your mouth as you slip your hand beneath the waistband of her panties.

“Hm? Like this?”

Her lips fall open into a perfect circle as you dip your finger between her soaked folds.

“Oh,” she breathes out, dropping her head back onto the pillow. “Yes.”

The base of your finger nudges against her clit and she writhes beneath you. Her hand curls around your wrist, squeezing as she pleads softly,

“Faster, please.”

Her hips jerk as you begin to circle her clit with the pad of your finger, your thumb hooked over her mound, the digit buried amongst the dark curls there. Alina squeezes her eyes shut, brows scrunching adorably as she gasps.

“Can I stretch your little cunt open now, sweet girl?” She whimpers, nodding fervently.

Her eyes meet yours, an endless darkness of desire spiralling in her blown pupils. Ducking your head down, you allow saliva to pool in your mouth before letting it drop down onto where your finger is pressing against her entrance. Her mouth drops open at the vulgar action, red blossoming down her neck and chest as it heaves with a shaky breath.

The mattress dips as Aleksander sits down at the foot of bed, his eyes fixed on where your hands explore Alina’s body. With the mess of her arousal and the added lubrication of your saliva, you slide your finger inside her. The heat of her cunt clings to your digit, dragging you in greedily and the feeling makes you groan against her neck.

“Alya, fuck, you’re so tight. Such a warm, pretty, little cunt.”

She shudders beneath you, whining your name as she grasps at the fabric of your night robe. With a few deft motions, you untie the belt and reveal your bare chest to her. A desperate noise catches in the back of her throat, her eyes wide and round as she stares at your breasts.

Curling your finger, you search for the spot that makes her clench harder than ever, stroking her quivering walls as you begin to speak.

“You can touch, Alya.”

“W-what?”

“You can touch me. Anywhere you want. Everywhere you want.”

Expecting hesitation from her, the feeling of her hands on your breasts, squeezing the flesh and tugging experimentally on your nipples, has you gasping in surprise. A soft groan escapes you, as the repression inside Alina seems to break. She grasps at you eagerly, perfectly trimmed nails digging into your skin.

Tenderly, you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck, kissing over her collarbones.

“Let go, sweet girl. I have you.”

She gasps, her grip on you tightening as she bucks her hips upwards, chasing the motion of your hand. Sweat glosses over her body, her power shimmering beneath her skin. Light dances at the edge of the room, but all you can focus on is Alina as she reaches the peak of her pleasure.

Her back arches away from the mattress, dark eyes widened as she cries out your name, body succumbing to her climax. Her cunt twitches around your finger, pulsing violently around your digit. With her head thrown backwards, you can see each frantic beat of her heart thrumming in the veins across her throat, bared vulnerable to your hungry eyes.

She breathes heavily, pupils wide and sparkling with pleasure as she stares at you, her gaze flickering between your face and your body. Her smile is almost shy now, as she tucks a stray hair behind her ear with a shaky hand.

Aleksander’s hand curls around your throat, squeezing softly as he directs your head backward towards his mouth. It’s easy and well-practised, the way he moves your body so that you’re lying on your back with him nestled perfectly between your thighs.

“Remember what we agreed on, my love?”

“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, imagining Aleksander and Alina kissing between your thighs, their lips smeared with your arousal.

His hands are well acquainted with your body, paying attention to every dip and curve that he knows by heart. He squeezes the softest areas, blunt nails dragging purposefully over the spots that make you shudder as he works his way downwards. He kisses over your hip bones, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there as he traces his way down your thighs.

Aleksander retracts onto the balls of his heels, parting your folds smoothly with his fingers and your body burns at the feeling of being so observed as your arousal sticks to his digits. He leans over to kiss Alina’s flushed cheek, his lips grazing her ear as he speaks in a low voice.

“Kiss her here, just like you’d kiss her mouth,” he instructs Alina.

She takes your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles and a previously unnoticed tension slips from your shoulders, allowing you to settle comfortably on the mattress. There’s a determined set to her jaw, enthusiasm glimmering in her eyes as if she has been wanting for months to taste you. Slowly, she leans forwards.

The soft press of her lips against your cunt has you squirming, a keening whine slipping from your lips as her tongue darts out tentatively to lick up your arousal. She hums and your stomach flips at the thought of her enjoying the feeling of your cunt against her tongue.

Aleksander smiles at you both, squeezing your thigh as he pets the back of her head.

“Very good, Alinochka.”

The praise makes her sigh against your cunt and you clench around nothing, wishing she would slip her tongue inside you. Aleksander traces his fingers over your mound, drawing a shiver from you as he directs Alina’s attention to your clit.

“Watch carefully,” he tells her.

He ducks his head down, taking the swollen nub of your clit into his mouth. Instantly, you cry out, writhing over the mattress as you grasp at his hair, tugging on it with carnal need.

When he releases you, Alina is eager to take his place, mimicking the pressure of his mouth whilst lapping at your clit with her tongue. Breathless, you moan brokenly. The two of them are taking you apart, piece by piece, stealing the fractured shards of you for themselves.

Nerves stir in your stomach as your pleasure begins to sharpen into something tangible, almost within your grasp. Nevertheless, your climax evades you, until you can feel your sweat soaking the sheets and glossing at your forehead.

“Sasha, I can’t,” you whisper weakly.

“You can, my love.” He kisses your temple. “You’re doing so well.”

He strokes your hair back gently, reaching out to cup your breast comfortingly as he lies at your side. His thumb circles over your nipple in a soothing motion and you press your forehead against his shoulder as you whine. Taking your chin between his fingers, he turns you so that you’re looking down at Alina.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful like this? Our darling Alina.” At the sound of her name, her eyes flicker up to meet yours, a lustful sheen in her gaze that fills her features as she looks between you and Aleksander. “Don’t you want to spill yourself over her pretty face?”

She seems captivated by you, an awestruck expression glimmering in her eyes. Innocent little Alina, staring openly at you - as you lie splayed over Aleksander’s bed, almost completely unraveled by her mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- Alina.”

As your climax hits, your curses turn into frantic whines and your hips jerk against Alina’s face. Pleasure blooms beneath your skin, prickling down your spine as your cunt clenches a rapid rhythm that sends you spiralling into bliss.

Eyes fluttering closed, you drop your head back against the pillow, turning to press your forehead onto Aleksander’s shoulder. Each breath you take is a desperate heave of air, your body warm and sated with a blissful satisfaction as your pulse gallops a steady rhythm beneath your skin.

Alina stares at you, pink tongue tracing her lower lip as your eyes lock for a heated moment. Then she scrambles up your body, straddling your waist eagerly as she leans down to kiss you, smearing the remnants of your orgasm from her mouth to yours. Aleksander breathes out a soft groan at the sight of you both as you kiss lazily.

“Sasha,” you murmur against Alina’s lips, reaching downwards with the intention to grasp at his still-clothed cock.

His hand curls around your wrist to stop you.

“I want a clear head tonight,” he says when you meet his gaze.

On occasion, Aleksander denies himself a climax in order to stay fully aware of his surroundings, particularly when he’s feeling anxious about your safety. A rebuke is on the tip of your tongue - after all, the Little Palace is one of the safest places in the world. You and Aleksander ensured it. But with Alina here in your bed for the first time, you can understand why he would be concerned.

Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you whisper,

“Thank you, Sasha.”

He smiles, stroking your cheek affectionately with his knuckles.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Can I wake you with a treat tomorrow morning?”

His smile widens.

“A treat?”

As you settle down by his side, curling up beneath his outstretched arm, you nod.

“Hm. I want to teach Alina how to suck your cock.”

Alina stifles a gasp. The apple of his throat bobs, a muscle in his jaw flaring as his eyes darken.

“My love,” he says warningly. “Your proposition isn’t helping my current issue.”

Biting down on your lip, you feel a touch of guilt as he shifts his hips, breathing deeply through his nose as he attempts to rein in his arousal.

“Sorry, Sasha.”

He hums with a smile, clearly unconvinced by your apology. Then he cups the back of your head, sinking his fingers into your hair as he kisses you.

“Let me clean the two of you up,” he suggests.

He glances at Alina in a silent question, requesting her consent which she gives with a soft smile and a small nod. Leisurely, you stretch out over the mattress as Aleksander stands to retrieve a wash cloth and basin full of water.

Alina breathes out a sigh and your eyes flutter open to admire her form draped beside you. Candlelight flickers over her skin, your fingers following the shadows that dip into the curves of her body as you reach out to trace over her figure with a featherlight touch. She hums quietly, eyes heavy-lidded as she looks at you. When your eyes meet, the smile that spreads across her face is luminous.

She blushes when Aleksander parts her legs, wiping a warm cloth over the space between her thighs. Once he’s done, you kiss her lips as a reward. He tells her that she can wear anything she likes to bed and she immediately moves towards your wardrobe as Aleksander’s attention moves to you.

He kisses you softly, hands cradling your face as you both smile at one another. He cleans you with the same care given to Alina, and once he’s done, you retrieve one of his night shirts to sleep in. As you shrug the garment over your shoulders, you turn your attention back to Alina.

She’s wearing one of your cosiest night robes, the soft fabric bundled around her frame. It drags over the floor as she moves towards you and Aleksander, climbing into bed between you both - where she belongs.

Finally having her in your bed seems to be quite the distraction for you and Aleksander; neither of you can keep your hands off her, taking turns to kiss her lips.

Alina giggles breathlessly.

“Aren’t we going to sleep?” she remarks teasingly, gnawing on her lower lip. The sight of her, dark curls askew and flushed cheeks, makes you and Aleksander both sigh.

“Yes, milaya,” Aleksander says decidedly as he reaches for the lantern on his bedside. “We’re going to sleep.”

He lifts the glass, blowing out the candle, and the room descends into darkness. Slipping your arms around Alina’s waist, you pull her backwards and she slots perfectly against your front. Aleksander drapes his arm over Alina, encaging her between you both as he reaches for you. He strokes a hand over your bicep, languid petting as the three of you fall asleep.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

#aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov #darklina x reader #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #alina starkov x reader

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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On the night of April 30, 1541, the Ming Ancestral Temple in Beijing was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. [...]

[T]he fires forced the Jiajing Emperor to resurrect one of the dynasty’s most expensive, difficult, and destructive projects: the logging of old-growth timber in the far southwest of China. Disaster struck again in 1556, when fires burned the Three Halls that form the central axis of the Forbidden City. The Three Halls burned yet again in 1584. Through the end of the sixteenth century, repeated damage to the imperial palaces forced reconstruction. Yet the lightning strikes in Beijing were also a disaster for the old-growth forests of the southwest, where the logs to build the palaces had first been cut in the early 1400s. As logging supervisors soon learned, ancient trees could not be felled on a regular basis. Officials pressed ever deeper into the gorges of southern Sichuan and northern Guizhou to find them, bringing massive transformations to the environment in the process.

---

The foundations of Beijing were laid between 1406 and 1421 by the Yongle emperor, a junior son of the Ming founder, who moved the court to his personal appanage in north China. [...] Grasping the sinews of power that connected his court to far-flung regions of the empire, Yongle pulled one million laborers to Beijing to build his palaces.

Because the weight of Chinese buildings is carried by their pillar-and-beam frameworks (liangzhu), monumental buildings required monumental trees (Figure 2). So Yongle also dispatched a similarly large labor force to the old-growth forests of the far southwest to cut the fir (Cunninghamia lanceolata) and nanmu (Phoebe zhennan) that grew straight and tall enough to be used for imperial construction.

We cannot be certain just how many logs were cut to build Beijing, but the figure must have been astounding. In 1441, two decades after the completion of the project, 380,000 large timbers were left over from the earlier construction. By 1500, these too were gone, used for repairs or too damaged by rot to be used for construction purposes.

---

In the sixteenth century, logging officials wondered how their predecessors had been able to obtain so many giant timbers. Li Xianqing, who supervised more than 40 logging sites in the 1540s, noted that large trees could still be found, but they could only be transported out with great difficulty and at great expense. The majority had to be discarded as hollow or insect-damaged.

Even when a quality log was found, it took five hundred workers to tow a log over mountain passes.

Skilled craftsmen were on hand to build “flying bridges” (fei qiao), stone-lined slip roads, and enormous capstans (tianche) to tow the logs up slopes (Figures 3 and 4). In the remote forests of the southwest, loggers faced attacks by snakes, tigers, and “barbarians” (manyi); “miasmatic vapors” (yanzhang, probably malaria); storms, forest fires, rockslides, and raging rivers (Figure 5). Labor teams had to carry their own food and often starved. At the rivers, logs were tied into massive rafts bound with bamboo for buoyancy, towed by teams of 40 men, and then launched on the three-year, three-thousand-kilometer journey to Beijing (Figure 6). Only a small fraction of the trees reached the capital in a condition where they could be used for palace building.

---

Expeditions exceeded their budgets up to fiftyfold.

One official remarked, “the labor force numbers in the thousands; the days number in the hundreds; the supply costs number in the tens of thousands each year.” Another saying held that “one thousand enter the mountains, but only five hundred leave” (rushan yiqian chu shan wubai). To make matters worse, logging mostly occurred within territory that was under only loose Ming control [...].

---

The Yongle Palaces were said to replicate the otherworldly atmosphere of the old-growth forests where their pillars originated. The presence of these timbers in Beijing linked the capital, materially and symbolically, to the southwestern landscape of cliffs and gorges where the trees had grown.

But ancient sentinel trees could not be reproduced on demand. The fifteenth-century logging project was a millennial event, removing the growth of hundreds or even thousands of years. Later officials were forced to come to terms with the transformations their predecessors had wrought in the ancient forests. Eventually builders had to switch to smaller, commercially available timber, using ornate artisanship and commercial efficiency to substitute for the austere majesty of the early Ming palaces, and the thousands of years of tree growth on which they rested.

---

All text above by: Ian M. Miller. “The Distant Roots of Beijing’s Palaces.” Rachel Carson Center for Environment and Society, Environment & Society Portal, Arcadia no. 39. Autumn 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#abolition #ecology #colonial #imperial #plantation

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teez-the-time · 2 days

Text

Strawberries and Wine

Pairing: Consort! Seonghwa x Emperor! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, romance, smut

Synopsis: as an Emperor, you liked to indulge in the pleasantries of life. The shiniest jewels, the best wines, the tastiest delicacies. But in the years of your reign, you had never found something as exquisite as the lips of Park Seonghwa.

Warnings: switch! lean dom! reader, switch! sub lean! Seonghwa, masturbation (f and m receiving), oral sex (f), breast play, piv sex, riding, dry humping, grinding, a lil food play, alcohol consumption (no drunk characters), pretty vanilla actually, body wordship, my characters are whipped as usual, pls tell me if I miss something

Wc: 9.1k

Taglist: none

A/N. What's this? Me actually posting a fic? Make a wish, people, cause a miracle has happened. Anyway, I humbly offer you this Hwa x reader fic, I hope you enjoy it. Please pretend that I actually know how to write smut and that I don't suck at it. Also, let's pretend this isn't totally inspired by the Webtoon, "Men of the Harem". Go read it if you haven't. Any like, comment, message, reblog, etc. is highly appreciated. My DMs are open as always. See you later!

XOXO

-May

“I believe that was the last engagement for the day, Your Majesty,” your trustworthy secretary, Marquis Kim Hongjoong, announced.

You rolled back your neck, releasing little pops of accumulated stress from the long day. Your eyes almost cried in relief when you closed them for more than a couple of seconds, having been subjected to the harsh candlelight for hours. “That is good to hear. It’s already very late. You may be excused, Hongjoong, and thank you for today”.

Your secretary stood up beside your desk, slightly bowing his head as he held a thick stack of papers underneath his arm. “If my services aren’t required any longer, then I’ll be on my way, ma’am. Have a pleasant night, Your Majesty”.

For a couple of seconds, only Hongjoong’s steps could be heard in your office room. You were putting away letters, documents and your beloved stationary when a little note tucked away in one of your drawers reminded you of something.

Poor Hongjoong had a hand on the door knob when you called out for him. “Wait, Hongjoong!”

“Yes, ma’am?” he inquired after being stopped seconds away from freedom. He looked worried from your sudden abrasiveness.

“I had almost forgotten to ask,” you explained, “did you inform Lord Park Seonghwa of my visit tonight?”

Hongjoong wanted to sigh from relief, as well as laugh at the mention of your little appointment with the young noble, Lord Park Seonghwa. “Yes, Your Majesty. His Grace and his entourage were made aware of your intentions of passing by tonight”.

“Good, good.” You spaced out and forgot to add something else to that sentence, but was suddenly called back to Earth when you saw your poor Hongjoong still standing by the door like a dog waiting to get out. “Now you are truly dismissed. Sorry to keep you here”.

“No worries, ma’am,” he assured you, finally leaving you alone in your office. Just you and your thoughts of that commitment with none other than your adored Park Seonghwa. At last, something exciting in your day after many hours of meetings with your court, and mountains of papers with budgets, reports, complaints and many more.

God, you thought, it’s depressing to still be thinking about work. I guess it's inevitable if you want to run an empire.

You finished picking up after yourself and blew out what remained of the candles. They had just been replaced that day, but you would need to call for someone to put even more the next day.

I guess I will have to set aside a budget for candles.

The halls of the palace were considerably more empty in the late hours of the night, but that didn’t stop you from running into several maids and guards on their nightly duties. They all bowed to you and waited until you were far enough to continue with their tasks. In those moments, you thought that, no matter how bothersome and grueling your responsibilities could get, at least you didn’t have to stand up for hours on end or wash silverware in the middle of the night.

Near your chambers appeared to be the busiest. You opened the door to find your maids awaiting to assist you in your nightly routine. They curtsied at your arrival, and hastily dragged you to your vanity to begin dressing you down.

“Look at these hours!” one exclaimed while removing the pins of your hair, “Your Majesty must be so tired after such a long day. Should we draw a bath with those special salts for you to relax, ma’am? Then we can serve you some lavender tea for sleep”.

“You are a dear to me,” you thanked her and the others, “I’ll gladly take the offer of the bath, but I’m afraid I won’t be staying the night here. I plan to visit Lord Park, so please draw me that bath and fetch my robe”.

They giggled. “As you wish, Your Majesty”.

The hands were the most delicate when removing your makeup, hair and clothes. They rubbed away the stress of work and replaced it with the most pleasant of oils and perfumes. Indeed, they were masters of the art of polishing the body and the soul. Before you realized, you were already dressed in your nightgown and the robe that you reserved for these occasions.

“Is there anything else we can help Your Majesty with?” another one asked.

“I’m afraid not. Thank you once again. Please retire to your chambers for some sleep. We will have to wake up very early tomorrow!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

They curtsied as they left, and you could hear some of their giddy laughter and hushed voices just before the door closed. They loved gossip, even if it was about the whereabouts of their emperor (which was no secret to anyone). You let them entertain themselves however they wanted, choosing to keep them content as they were the people that spend the most time with you.

You sat in your vanity once more to contemplate their work. There was no sign of fatigue or worry in the face that looked back at you from the mirror. Quite the contrary. You looked more refreshed and rested than you had in weeks, all thanks to the magical wonders of your maids.

There was nothing you could do better in your appearance, so you decided to leave before you could consider staying in your chambers. While that thought seemed pleasant, a more promising option awaited you at one of the wings of the palace.

The wing reserved for the royal consorts was exquisite and lavish. Several rooms expanded around, forming a circle with a marble fountain in the middle depicting two lovers embracing each other with the utmost intensity. A dome was constructed on top of it, so the lovers were perpetually bathed in sunshine or moonlight. The floors were carpeted with the finest rugs imported from exotic lands in faraway continents. No speck of dust could be found on any corner, and all vases were always kept full with your favourite flowers. All the artwork was seasonally changed and handpicked by the emperors themselves according to their consorts' tastes. After all, it was the emperors' duty to pamper them and keep them content.

Having prided enough in your work at the consort wing, you began walking through the left part of the circle. Despite being able to hold many guests, most of the chambers were empty. In your short reign as emperor, you had only taken four consorts, without planning to add more in the foreseeable future. As a female emperor, it wasn’t a good look for your legacy to be remembered for promiscuity rather than your political achievements. Also, you were quite content with whom you had chosen to be your lovers.

Normally, the consort wing was brewing with life, always full of servants and guards waiting on your partners. While it could be refreshing to breathe that atmosphere, it was undeniable that the emperor’s visit was a cause of drama in the palace. Everyone was always eager to learn who were you coming to see, what you talked about and what to expect, and no doubt the speculation resulted in scheming that you weren’t ready to discover just yet. That’s why you tried to keep your appearances late and spaced in between, just to keep gossip at bay.

And, maybe, add some excitement too.

Seonghwa’s room was the farthest away, much to your dislike. Nevertheless, the wait made your little escapade even more thrilling. You reached the door, softly knocking on the sturdy wood. A few seconds passed and no one answered it. You knocked again, and still no answer. By now, one of Seonghwa’s servants would have opened it to let you go in, but tonight didn’t seem to be the case. Starting to get worried, you grabbed the knob and tried to push it open by yourself. Surprisingly, it offered no resistance and you found yourself inside Seonghwa’s chambers. You were preparing to scold him for his imprudence of leaving a door unlocked at night when the most pleasant of smells inundated your nostrils.

At first, it was just the sweet aroma of vanilla and jasmine, but the more you breathed in, the richer the smell got. Soon enough, your mind was floating along with the scent, making you relax into the atmosphere. It reminded you of something hidden in the depths of the soul. Desire. It wasn’t strong nor overpowering, but it lingered there, just barely out of reach .

When you shook out the initial stupor of the aroma, you scanned the room looking for your companion for the night. Normally, he would be waiting for you in one of the exquisite sofas and chairs of the sitting area before the door, but tonight he wasn’t there either.

Apparently, the young lord had made sure that your night was full of oddities.

After a few more seconds of appreciating the neatness and taste of Seonghwa’s bedchambers, your eyes fell into the sleeping area. The furniture around the bed was lit up with soft candles, and a few scenting oil containers laid open, explaining the delicious odor that greeted you. A bottle of wine and two glasses waited for you at the coffee table in front of the chaise lounge that sat in front of the bed. That was, certainly, a direct clue to move there.

As you got closer, you saw that the drapes of the bed were completely closed, but the light from the candles illuminated the silhouette of a man sitting inside. With big strides and a grin, you closed the distance even more.

“My, my, what do we have here?” you asked in a teasing tone, one hand laying on the back of the chaise lounge. You circled it and sat down on the plush cushions, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into one arm. “Looks like someone is hiding from me. Where did my precious Seonghwa go?”.

A deep chuckle came from within the curtains. “Not very far, Your Majesty”.

“My, my, there he is!” you poured yourself a glass of wine from the bottle that awaited you on the coffee table before the chaise lounge. It was yours and Seonghwa’s favourite. “What an odd feeling to not have you welcome me into your chambers. Playing hard to get, aren’t we?”

His rich laugh resonated once again in the room and you could see he shifted his position a little from the candlelight. “Your Majesty should know by now that familiarity breeds contempt”.

“That is very true, darling,” you sipped the wine, “but I will admit that seeing you that eager has always been my favourite part of the day. Perhaps you are right and I’ve spoiled my puppy too much, so now he is bored of me. I guess I’ll have to go to one of the other consorts…”

Slight panic rose to Seonghwa’s voice, but he managed to save face in time. “Quite on the contrary. I thought that Your Majesty might start getting bored of our encounters, so I thought a little change was due”.

Your heart fluttered at Seonghwa’s thoughtfulness, but you weren’t done playing with him. “What a kind puppy I have got here. Thank you for thinking about me, but remember I’m the one who makes the decisions here”.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but you heard a little mischief there.

Still, you decided to let it slide once. “Either way, I’m feeling extra generous tonight, so I’ll follow your little plan for a while. So, tell me, where do we go from here, my darling?”.

Seonghwa shifted once more in his bed. His shadows danced across the fabric of the drapes.

“Well,” he started, “I believe that Your Majesty has already made herself comfortable on my chair, but I’m afraid that none of what I intend on doing tonight makes use of it. So, why don’t you come closer, ma’am?”.

Now, you thought, he is using that charm of his. A little bit longer and I would’ve gone to get him myself.

You stood from your resting position, not leaving behind your glass. Not long after, you stood at the foot of the bed, one hand gripping the opening of the lace drapes, eagerly waiting to reveal your lover’s form.

The sight in front of you left you drunker than the wine on your lips could ever.

In the many years that he had resided in your palace, you had commissioned dozens of artists to portray the beauty of the young lord, Park Seonghwa. But, even after having a room full of just paintings of him in every position imaginable, you still had yet to acquire any piece of art that could rival the one sitting before your very eyes.

Seonghwa sat between the plush pillows and cushions at the head of the bed. His posture was relaxed, with his legs slightly crossed and one arm supporting most of his upper torso. His robe was barely tied, leaving almost the entirety of his torso exposed. Not that it would have been of much help, given the scandalous sheerness of the garment, which left little to the imagination. His neck, ears and fingers were littered with the golden shine of the jewelry you had especially commissioned to compliment his tan complexion. Your eyes found purchase of every inch of his small waist and defined limbs. He was carefully sculpted by the gods, even if he politely declined any comment made towards his appearance.

One trait you loved about Seonghwa was his eyes. They never lied. You could tell what he was feeling from a simple stare. Right now, many things flashed through them

Desire. Lust. Adoration.

You stood there without moving except to sip on your wine once again. As you stared at him, you noticed that one of his hands laid inside a crystal bowl. Never removing his eyes from yours, he raised it to his plump lips and opened his mouth. His tongue darted out to receive whatever it was that his hand carried and, for a moment, you saw a glint. He let you see the ruby-like gem before he closed his mouth and bit down on it slowly. A slight smirk adorned his face.

He knew you. He knew you liked jewelry. And him.

“Oh?” you exclaimed while looking at the bowl once again, seeing it full with more of the gems, “Is that candy?”

His smile grew wider. “Yes, Your Majesty. The finest of your empire.”

“I see, very interesting. Will you tell me which flavor is it?”

He grabbed one more piece of candy and showed it to you. The light from the candles bounced off it, making it look like a real ruby. “That, ma’am, is something you will have to find out”.

You arched your eyebrow at him in a questioning manner. “Is the puppy going to keep me guessing? Well then, bring it here so I can taste it myself”.

With your command, Seonghwa got on his knees and crawled over the bed towards you, bringing one of the damned candies with him. The closer he got, the more breathtaking he looked. Part of you wanted to order him to stop with his act, but the other part loved seeing his sensual side on display for you. Also, deep inside, you were too soft to ruin his fun.

His head towered slightly over yours. From that distance, you could see every detail of his face, including the nonexistent imperfections. Without a word, your hand scanned his jaw, chin and neck until you felt the cold of one of his gold chains, leaving it there. With your other hand, you grabbed the candy gem and brought it closer to both of your heads. You twirled it twice on your fingers before putting it against Seonghwa’s lips. Not wasting a second, he opened his mouth and let the candy fall on it like it had done earlier. Before closing it again, he playfully licked the tip of your index finger.

What a naughty puppy.

You grabbed his chin and put your face even closer to his. “You are playing a dangerous game, my darling”.

He had barely swallowed the candy when you closed the space between you with a kiss. Immediately, Seonghwa reciprocated, closing his eyes and grabbing you by your waist and shoulder.

Strawberry. He tasted like strawberries.

You took advantage of the kiss to let your hands explore even more of the body you saw earlier. His skin was as soft and warm as always, but you never got tired of how it felt against yours. Your fingers slid inside his robe and slowly dragged it down his shoulders, leaving even more skin exposed. You wanted all of it. All of him.

You separated from the kiss to get some air, but apparently it wasn’t enough for Seonghwa. He latched himself on the juncture of your neck and jaw, peppering open-mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin that you could find. You let out a content sigh, and weaved your fingers through his hair, knowing he loved when you did that. His hands held you firmly by your waist, pulling you flush against himself. Bit by bit, his kisses went lower until he reached the neck of your nightgown.

Through the years, you had learnt that Seonghwa was addicting. There was never “just a bit” with him. It was all or nothing. And that’s what you intended tonight. Take all of him.

In more than one way.

“As much as I would love to stay like this all night long,” you said while pushing Seonghwa slightly off of your chest, “I’m afraid my legs will give out at some point. Perhaps we should take this further into the bed”.

Seonghwa said nothing. Still, he got up from his kneeling position and down the bed, grabbed your hand and walked around the furniture and sat on the edge of it near the pillows. While smiling, he placed your hands back on his shoulders and pulled you between his legs. He looked at you from beneath, expecting you to follow along with his plans for you.

“I’m also afraid of tiring Your Majesty’s legs before we have even begun,” he shooted you a smirk. “Why don’t you take a seat so I can take care of you, ma’am?”

He didn’t even wait for your answer before grabbing your behind and pulling you with force to himself. You let out a yelp and fell down on him. While he laughed at you, you tried to pull yourself up by pressing down on his shoulders and putting your legs on each side of his. In any other situation you would’ve also laughed with him, but you wanted to keep control for a little longer.

“What a naughty puppy,” you exclaimed, grabbing Seonghwa by his jaw to shut him up. “Good thing you that I love you a little too much. Otherwise I would have your head on a plate”. You didn’t really mean that, but you noticed that Seonghwa’s eyes lit up a bit when you said love. “You will pay me back another day”.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he replied, “but let me enjoy myself a little longer”.

He captured your lips once more. Somewhere in your conversation he had gained a confidence you had only witnessed a handful of times. He didn’t hesitate to remove your robe from your body, letting it fall to the floor without a care. He didn’t hesitate while pulling you to sit entirely on his lap, making you feel everything underneath. He didn’t hesitate while looking at you in a way no one dared to before.

The adoration you had towards this man felt way too much for a moment, and you got scared. So, you decided to avoid your feelings for a little longer by kissing him again, praying that he wouldn’t notice how different you were acting tonight. And if he did, he didn’t show.

At one point, during your touching, Seonghwa had lost that goddamned robe, leaving the both of you in nothing but your underwear. You could feel the heat radiating from each other, almost too hot to the touch but not enough to make you pull away. As much as you could spend eternity just kissing Seonghwa’s strawberry lips, you were starting to feel impatient and the man could tell.

It started slow, barely enough for you to feel at first. He had broken the kiss to leave more marks on your neck and naked chest. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you to his crotch. The space between you was almost non-existent. Little by little, he started to move your hips along his, igniting sparks of pleasure throughout your body. In no time, he accompanied it with movements of his own pelvis, creating the perfect amount of friction to send you into overdrive.

One particularity of Seonghwa was his ability to make every movement enticing. After all, there was a time he was known as the best dancer and performer in your whole land, seeked and desired by hundreds, and it was that reputation that had drawn you towards him in the first place. Every move of his appeared calculated enough to look tempting yet effortless, and here you were paying the price of that talent by being subjected to one of the most sublime pleasures known to humankind.

At one point, Seonghwa had stilled your hips, opting for grinding his against them. This ensured that you could feel the entirety of his erection pressing against every part of your core, all the way from your entrance to your clit. After a while of receiving this tortuous treatment, you were climbing a peak you weren’t ready yet to reach.

You stilled his movements by pressing your hand against his hard on, which earned you a whine from Seonghwa. You almost went back into a desperate grinding after hearing that delicious noise, but you held back. “I’m afraid that if we continue with this much longer, both you and I won’t last enough to get to whatever you wish to do”.

“You don’t have to worry about me, ma’am” he teased you with a cheeky grin. “I can continue all night long, Your Majesty”.

You grabbed him by the back of his head once again and got your faces close. “Y/N”. He blinked a couple times in confusion, so you repeated yourself once again. “Y/N. It’s Y/N when I’m with you”.

Now it was Seonghwa’s turn to pray that you didn’t notice how fast his heart was beating from your statement. One would think that he had loved you enough time for your name to roll easily from his lips, but it wasn’t the case at all. It was impossible when some days, your sole presence was enough to make him nervous. It was impossible when sometimes he looked at the other consorts and it made his blood boil. It was impossible when he knew that using your name meant owning a part of you, something he would never be able to do given the nature of your relationship.

Nevertheless, he allowed the syllables to run through his tongue, even if they stinged. “Well then, I can continue all night long, Y/N”.

He didn’t give you time to reply, because in one moment he was leaving a peck on your lips, and on the other you were swiftly being turned around and laid against the pillows of the bed. You gasped in surprise at the same time that Seonghwa let out the most beautiful laugh you had ever heard.

And what would you not do to hear it again.

“You little scoundrel!” you exclaimed. “You have absolutely no idea what you are getting yourself into. Next time you’ll see how well it goes for you!”

Seonghwa positioned himself on top of you, his chest almost pressed against yours. He shot you another mischievous grin. “I’ll be waiting eagerly, then”.

He left a kiss on the column of your throat, so soft it was barely there. Then he left another one a little lower. Then another. And another. And another, until he reached your sternum. Your eyes fluttered when he started moving upwards towards one of your breasts. He used one of his hands to trace mindless patterns across your stomach, hips and waist. The tender stimulation was starting to heighten the heat in your core, somewhat lost in the brief moments you had stopped rubbing on Seonghwa. Finally, it reached an all-time peak when his warm tongue enveloped your right nipple.

“Ah!” you let out with a moan. He continued his assault on your breast, sucking and licking on your sensitive mound. After some moments of this treatment, he brought the hand that had been on your hip and used it to massage the forgotten bud. Then, he switched sides, continuing his ministrations on both of your nipples. It felt good. So good that you started rubbing your thighs together, hoping to get some friction and relieve some of that growing heat.

Seonghwa took notice of your impatience and decided to act on it. He unlatched his mouth from your bud, replacing it with his other hand. Meanwhile, he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your stomach. You let out content sighs, using your own hands to rub soothing circles on Seonghwa’s defined back and shoulders. His mouth reached the hem of your panties, and you couldn’t help but hitch a breath in expectation. But that fucker had other plans for you.

He peppered even more kisses along the waistband of your underwear, even going as far as to nip it. But, when he got to where you needed him the most, he ignored the wet patch on your crotch, opting to lick your inner thighs. He left another wet trail on your legs up until your knees, bending them slightly to give him better access. Without missing a beat, he switched from one leg to the other, this time going upwards towards your centre. He rubbed your calves and knees tenderly, relieving the tension in them.

Seonghwa broke away from the task he had been focused on for the last minutes to look back at you, and spoke.

“You know,” he stated, “there was once a time where I could have been considered the most beautiful man of the kingdom”. You stared back at him, curious about what point he was trying to make. “It has been almost five years since then, and I’m sure age has changed that fact”.

You frowned at his words, and you were about to refute that claim when he spoke again. “I am certain that has been the case for me. But for you, Y/N, Your Majesty, it is completely the opposite. Every day that you come visit me, I am more certain that time has only made you even more beautiful”.

You were left speechless in awe, but Seonghwa did not seem to interpret it the same way. “I am most sorry if my words have been bold tonight, but the thought has been wandering on my mind for the entirety of this evening. Let me make it up to you, Y/N”.

With nothing else to add, he brought relief to the ache on your core that had been plaguing you from the moment you stepped on Seonghwa’s chambers. Slowly, he bit down on the waistband of your underwear and began to bring it down with his teeth enough to then remove them with his fingers. When he was sure there was not a single millimeter of fabric separating you from him, he dived head first into your folds, tasting you like you were a meal he had been depriving himself of for weeks.

The expertise of his tongue and the long wait had you moaning immediately. “Oh, fuck!” Your hands grabbed the back of his head and pushed him further into you.

Seonghwa never shied away from giving you the best pleasure he could offer. He continually switched from kitty licks on your clit to long swipes through your whole slit. He ate you out like a starved man, sucking on your nub with enough force to make you almost reach the ceiling of pleasure. Nevertheless, he didn’t want you arriving at your climax just yet. No, he had a lot more to give you. He separated himself from your core slightly, just enough to be able to watch you in all your glory.

The sight of your eyes rolling back into your skull, head hanging weakly over the pillows and your mouth wide open almost made him cum on himself. You looked so fucked out, barely even registering what happened on your surrounds aside from the movement of his tongue and your hand on his hair.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, “you are doing so well for me, Y/N. So, so good”.

You whined at his growl-like tone. “Hwa, I’m close. Don’t stop, please.”

Seonghwa moaned at your whining. It was rare to witness his emperor relinquishing so much of the control you normally had on every aspect of your life, even in bed. He was harder than he remembered ever feeling before, and it drove him crazy. He didn’t want to, he needed to make you cum. So, after looking at you one last time, he went back to his task, now inserting a finger into your hole.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of having his digit inside yourself. His fingers were long and slender, perfect for how you liked it. Little by little, Seonghwa started inserting more and more of it, feeling no resistance from your part. With the same slow pace, he began sliding out, only to go back inside. In no time, he had found a rhythm that matched his licks and slurps on your clit.

This time, you could feel your climax start to unravel once Seonghwa hit the perfect spot. “Oh my god, I’m coming. Shit, shit, I’m coming!”.

The perfect combination of one of his licks with his fingering movements left your vision white. You felt the air being sucked from your lungs as a fiery heat traveled from all your extremities to your core. Your back arched beautifully, almost as if wanting to ascend to the upper plane of pleasure Seonghwa was sending you to. Your fingers clutched anything they could get a hold of; pillows, sheets, and Seonghwa’s dark locks of hair.

The high was dizzying and intoxicating.

Seonghwa continued to shyly lick your cunt while you came back from your orgasm. You felt sensitive to his touch, but your craving for him still wasn’t satisfied. You propped yourself on one elbow to look at him better, moving your other hand from his hair to his cheek. With soft touches, you removed his face from your core to stop him.

The sight before you was erotic in every sense of the word. The lower bottom of his face was drenched in your cum, his tongue darting out from his mouth to lick around it. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, making it seem like it was him who had received one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life. His eyes, still full of love and adoration for you, continued to pierce into yours, feeding into the fire that had slowly been growing since the start of the evening.

“My puppy has done such a good job tonight,” you praised him, running your fingers down his jaw to his neck and chest. In a soft gesture, you put your hand under his armpit, urging him to come up from his lying position to hover over you. With his hands on each side of your face, his legs tangled between yours, and your hands woven over the back of his head, you gazed back at him with a mischievous smile. “I believe a reward is in order”.

You closed the distance between your lips, pressing them into another feverish kiss. Seonghwa let out a content sigh into your mouth, melting until both of your figures became indistinguishable. You ran a hand over his broad back, lightly scratching your nails over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your journey. Then, you dipped it under his waist and over his abdominals, going lower and lower until your hand reached its final destination.

Seonghwa almost collapsed on top of you when he felt you touch his dick. He let out divine sounds when he felt you begin to stroke the base of his member under his underwear, your other hand removing the last piece of clothing for him. For a moment, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the way your hand moved downwards towards the tip, in a movement you had memorized from your countless nights spent with him. To have you touch the most intimate part of his body felt the biggest reward he could receive for his actions, but that wasn’t how he wanted things to go.

You were surprised when you felt his hand grab your wrist to halt your movements. “What is wrong?” you asked, worried about hurting him.

He looked down to where you connected with him and then back at you with his ever-present soft smile. “Nothing is wrong, but I don’t wish to make this night about me”.

You raised your eyebrow at him. “But you deserve it”.

He pecked your nose and gifted you with another smile. “Thank you, Y/N, save it for another time”.

Seonghwa removed your hand from his underwear and intertwined your fingers with his, resting both of your hands besides your head. He left small kisses on your lips, one after another, until you were giggling. The cold metal of his necklaces against your chest gave you small goosebumps, but you still pulled his face against yours, rubbing your noses together.

“I will, Hwa,” you promised him.

Seonghwa let out a chuckle of his own. You looked so cute at that moment. “Thank you, Y/N. Now, if you let me, there’s still one thing on my list for tonight”.

In one swift moment, he sat back on the bed, similar to the position you found him earlier in the night, but this time with you sitting directly on his crotch once more. This time, there was nothing separating your cores. You could feel the entirety of Seonghwa’s length pressed against your slit, warm and slippery with your juices. A small movement of your hips and you would have the head of his cock pressed against your entrance.

Apparently, that same thought crossed Seonghwa. He grabbed your waist to lift you slightly up, leaving you on your knees over him. With one hand he positioned you where he needed you, and with the other he grabbed his cock, stroking himself while aligning it with your entrance. He looked up at you, eyes round and soft.

“May I?” he asked, not needing to say further.

You nodded, and he began your descend towards the climax of tonight’s act.

The first wave came with the first inch. There was always a sense of euphoria when you felt the tip of his length breach your inner walls, slowly dragging upwards to give way to more of it. Your body always responds with a gasp at this initial moment. The second wave is less intense but more prolonged. As he entered deeper and deeper, Seonghwa started losing control of himself. At this stage, he would start touching and grabbing every part of your body he could reach. Hips, thighs, breasts and ass would be covered in small marks the next day from his mindless touch. The last wave was the one that left the both of you with the biggest satisfaction. It was the bliss of being connected in one of the most intimate ways two people could.

“Oh, fuck!” Seonghwa let out, throwing his head back. No matter how many times he had done this, it still felt delicious.

You were also a mess above him. Your back was arched towards him, eyes pressed shut to savour the drag of his dick inside of you, and mouth wide open. Seonghwa felt like cumming from that sight alone. He wanted to devour you whole; crawl beneath your skin and live inside your heart forever.

If only he knew.

Regaining a bit of your senses, you started moving your hips slowly. Up and down, front to back, side to side. You began to find the rhythm that drove the both of you crazy. Wanton moans escaped from your lips as you felt Seonghwa in the deepest parts of your body. You grabbed his shoulders to support yourself better, and his hands found nest on the curve of your hips. In no time, you had picked up the speed, feeling him go in and out harder.

“God, you feel so good,” you moaned. “You are always so good for me. So, so good”.

The praise seemed to get into Seonghwa’s head (and cock). He whined beautifully, his eyes rolling back into his skull. He bit his lower lip to contain the sounds escaping from his throat. You didn’t like that.

You freed his lip with your thumb, once again getting closer to his face. “Don’t you ever try to hold back with me. I want to hear you”.

That set Seonghwa on fire. He planted his feet on the bed, grabbing you firmly by the waist, and started thrusting up into you with force. For a moment, all breath escaped from your lungs, being replaced by the smell of sex and lust. A whiny scream left your lips without meaning to, followed by broken moans and gasps. You hugged your lover by the shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself from falling too hard too fast on the abyss.

Seonghwa’s plump lips now rested against your ear, gifting you with his unrestrained groans and grunts of pleasure. You clenched around his cock deliciously, fitting him like a glove. It felt like a new heaven was opened to him every time he entered you, and your hands roaming across his back and chest felt akin to feather touches of an angel. If he closed his eyes a little longer, then he would be gone for good.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he repeated like a mantra, “I’m so close! God, I can’t wait to come inside of you. I’m going to make you mine”.

Seonghwa was a goner when he felt you clench even harder around him, but he needed you to cum first. It was a rule in his world, a commandment of his, to always satisfy your needs before his, even if it meant never getting back what he had offered you. So, feeling his impending climax approaching, he slid his fingers between your bodies to where your clit rested. His other hand slithered up to your breast, and played with your sensitive peaks.

That was your breaking point. The stimulation of all those points elevated you to your highest peak of the night. Your body shook with electricity that spread through your spine down to every nerve. You back arched against Seonghwa’s chest, pushing your face away from him. Your toes curled and your legs tensed, your inner thighs wet from the mess of cum and saliva.

You were a sight to behold.

Not long after, Seonghwa came. With sloppy thrusts into your core, he tried to prolong his and your orgasms. Overstimulation was becoming overwhelming, but something carnal and animalistic inside of him pushed him to go further. To claim every inch of your body and soul. Make you his in every way imaginable.

He didn’t stop until he felt like he had pushed the last bits of cum into your pussy. He felt the mess you both had created slip between your bodies, letting out a slight smirk at the thought of your cum and his mixing together.

It was him who had you in his bed tonight. Him who had given you the highest form of pleasure. Him who held you as you recovered from having sex with him.

But still, you weren’t his.

Despite Seonghwa facing inner turmoil at the moment, you felt very content at his side. Still feeling him inside, you were full of him, not just in the physical sense. The weight of your actions with him left your heart soaring higher than the sky, almost at peace. There was just a single detail missing in your equation.

With him standing by your side, there was nothing else you needed.

↠↠↠↞↞↞

The moonlight shone through the open balcony, drawing pale and shapeless silhouettes on the floor beneath your feet. You could hear the branches of the trees sway with the wind in the garden below. It was rare for you to have enough time to sit quietly to observe the mundane beauties of the world that surrounded you.

Except on those nights when you laid with Seonghwa.

After a brief clean-up session with him in his bathroom, you went back to his room. It was a comforting routine for both of you. Just being in each other’s company felt more intimate than any sexual activity you could engage in. You sat there in peace, no clothes needed to enjoy the pleasant company. It was symbolic of how you both bared yourselves naked in more than the literal way.

You sat on the edge of the bed, both feet planted on the floor. The long-forgotten wine returned to your hand, swirling slowly inside the glass, guided by the rhythmic movement of your body. Seonghwa laid on the bed behind you, sipping on his wine. You could feel his intense stare on your back, digging holes at it in silence.

Neither of you felt brave enough to break it.

At last, it was Seonghwa who dared to perturb the tranquility of the room.

“You have been behaving oddly tonight,” he declared, speaking into the rim of his glass.

You turned your neck around just enough to see him gulp down the rest of the beverage. For a couple of moments, the only sound in the room was that of liquid pouring before you answered.

“Am I the only one, though?” you questioned back, but not denying his claim.

“Certainly not,” he replied, seemingly submerged in his thoughts. His long fingers tapped against the stem of the glass before settling it down on the nightstand, “but it is unlike you to drain out your concerns in such ways”.

In five years, Seonghwa learnt to read you like a book. He picked on every cue and sign to assess your moods and act according to them. That way he had managed to completely obliterate the walls you had built around yourself, becoming your trusted confidant in record speed. He had not only looks but a bright mind.

But, still, even Seonghwa couldn’t escape the claws of the cold palace politics.

For that reason, you just offered a close-mouthed smile. “I know you have your people in my council, Seonghwa, so you should know what matter plagues me”.

Seonghwa ignored your cold countenance, choosing to gift you a warm smile. “Yes, I do know, but I'd rather hear it from you”.

You looked into his deep, dark eyes and you knew that if you could trust anyone, it would only be Park Seonghwa.

You exhaled some air and sipped on the glass. “The old foxes at the council have been reminding me that it has been five years since I took the throne, and there are no signs of an upcoming wedding, much less an heir. It makes them restless that there is no one they can trust to succeed me if something happens to me, so they have been pressuring me to pick someone at last”.

You turned around your torso to watch him more carefully. Seonghwa appeared as calm as ever, but the firm grip on the stem of the glass betrayed him

“So,” he asked nonchalantly, “will you do it?”

You left your wine on one of the nightstands and slid up further into the bed to sit beside Seonghwa. He looked at you with extreme curiosity while you settled at his side. While it wasn’t the first time you had touched the subject, it had never affected you like this before.

“Yes,” you said, simply.

For the nth time that night, Seonghwa prayed that you couldn’t hear his heart beating erratically inside his chest. That simple word had planted seeds of jealousy and hope, and he feared that more conversation would water them into a horrific ivy that would swallow his spirit whole. Tonight had not been a good night for his heart. Nevertheless, he made his best effort to appear calm amidst his internal storm.

“Oh?” he asked in an almost teasing tone. “Glad to see you finally settling down. Do you have someone in mind already, or should I suggest candidates?”

The green ivy grew bigger on his chest.

“Yes,” you answered, holding his intense gaze, “I have someone in mind already”.

“Oh?” Seonghwa repeated, but this time less sure of himself, “Is it a consort? Or will you bring someone from outside?”

“Oh god, no. In five years as Emperor, the amount of people I trust has reduced significantly. I could never bring myself to find someone outside this palace”.

Seonghwa bit his lip. “So it is a consort”.

You scooted even closer to him. “Yes, he is a consort”.

Seonghwa’s breath hitched. His head was spinning. One in four. He had one in four chances to be the one you picked.

Against his better judgment, he dared to prod the dragon’s belly. “Well then, who is him?”

You grinned at him, teasing him further. “Aren’t you awfully curious tonight?”

Trying to save face, Seonghwa answered. “Can you judge me? I am part of that pool, so I might as well ask before I hear the news from someone else”.

You didn’t reply. Instead, you scooted even closer to his frame, his arm instinctively wrapping around you and resting you on his shoulder. You inhaled his aroma from that distance and hid your face on his neck.

He smelt like home. And strawberries.

You leaned back to watch him, finding he was already looking back at you. Some of his hair fell on his eyes, covering part of his sculpted visage.

“Your hair is getting longer,” you commented, brushing the dark locks behind his ear.

“Should I cut it?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, it looks beautiful on you”.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

For two entire breaths, you stood in silence. “Seonghwa”.

“Yes?”

You wetted your lips. “Seonghwa, for almost five years, you have lived here in the palace as my consort. You were the first one I brought in many years ago when I had recently taken the throne, and you are my closest confidant aside from Hongjoong”.

You felt him gulp nervously, but you continued. “In these years, you have proven yourself to be more than just a consort. You are indeed handsome, but also brilliant, charismatic, strong, brave, and kind. In many instances, you have been my biggest ally and supporter, as well as a voice of reason when circumstances appear grim. You have a talent few men can say they possess, and it gives me pride to have you on my side, whether as your Emperor, your friend, or your lover”.

Seonghwa felt his chest swell with pride and joy while hearing your words. It was a one-in-four chance, but he certainly felt like it had been him all this time.

But you weren’t finished. “You are a man of many talents, Park Seonghwa, and in these five years I have witnessed that potential grow beyond what this restrictive palace can offer.” Seonghwa tensed beside you. “This place is nothing more than a beautiful prison for minds like yours, whose limit cannot be determined. A breeding ground for the greed and ambitions of the worst of mankind”.

You went back to stroking Seonghwa’s head. “You are my most beautiful flower, Seonghwa. I have sinned by ripping off your roots and hiding you here. I have taken you away from everything you loved and knew: your home, your family, your dance… I have been a horrible woman by keeping you tied to me for five years of your precious youth”.

Seonghwa had started to shake and you felt drops falling on top of your head. You pushed yourself away from him, only to see him crying. Your heart shattered in the very instance when he pushed himself away from your embrace. He sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over his knees, hand covering his mouth.

“That’s a terrible way to announce it’s not me,” he stated, briefly uncovering his mouth, but never looking back at you.

You got up from your lying position. On your knees, you crawled behind him, looping your arms underneath his armpits. Without a second thought, Seonghwa rested his hands on yours on top of his chest.

Seonghwa had always been an easy crier.

You rested your forehead on his cervical. “I told you I am a horrible person. I am merciless to my enemies, and awful to my friends. More despicable is the fact that I don’t believe those words”. Seonghwa’s head shot up, listening to what you said. “You are my most beautiful flower, and I don’t plan on letting you go”.

You pressed yourself further into Seonghwa’s broad back. “In five long and short years, you have become indispensable to me. It is you who I come to when I am happy. It is you who I come to when I am in need of comfort. It is to you who I confess my fears and sins, and to whom I share the deepest parts of my soul. Your happiness has become my happiness, your grief my grief, and your pride my pride. You are my better half, and my equal in everything but in body”.

“So do forgive me for being a selfish Emperor and even a worse lover, but I will not release you from my grasp, even if it is against my better judgment. I will do anything and give you anything you desire if it means I will get to keep you by my side for the rest of our lives”.

Seonghwa swallowed once again. “Will you give me anything?”

You grabbed his left hand and brought it to your lips. “Yes, anything. Say the word and it shall be yours”.

“You. I want you. I want (L/N) (Y/N)”.

Your heart exploded in a million fireworks inside your chest. “Then, I shall be yours”.

Suddenly, Seonghwa turned back at you, tackling you into a hug. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, slightly shaking with short sobs. He was crying, but this time they were happy tears. Softly, you removed him from yourself with a smile.

“Lord Park Seonghwa,” you said while looking deep into his eyes, “will you do me the honor of becoming Imperial King and marry me?”.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he shouted. “A hundred times yes!”.

You laughed, and he started peppering kisses all over your face. You both went from hugging to kissing to laughing hysterically every couple of seconds. No joy in life could compare to the state of bliss you were in, knowing you belonged wholeheartedly to each other.

You had said it before. Tonight, you had intended to make Seonghwa yours in more than one way.

“But wait,” Seonghwa stopped the both of you abruptly, “isn’t this done through a formal ceremony?”

“I mean, yes,” you replied, “but I wanted to make sure it is what you wanted before officially proposing to you in front of everyone. I would have felt awful to put you on the spot like that if you didn’t want to actually marry me”.

“Are you kidding me? I’m so in love with you that I would have said yes no matter when and where you had asked me”.

“Good to know my fiancé is in love with me as much as I am in love with him”, you smirked and rubbed your noses together. “Either way, I will have to inform Lord Hongjoong of the changes in our situation. I bet he will be very surprised”.

(Spoiler alert, he was not).

You both laid on your backs, staring at the ceiling of Seonghwa’s room. Hands intertwined like vines. The night continued to be silent, uncaring of the two lovers who had decided to give themselves to each other without the knowledge of the rest of the world. The Earth didn’t stop spinning nor did the Moon stop her beaming, but now your whole galaxy shone with the glint of Park Seonghwa’s eyes.

“I never thought I would say this,” Seonghwa broke the last silence of the night, “but I thank those old geezers at the council for pushing you into my arms. From the moment that I met you, my heart, body, and soul have belonged to you and only you. From the moment I rise in the morning to the closing of my eyes at night, my every thought is dedicated to you. I will do everything in my power to be dutiful as your husband, and you shall never regret having me, my love”.

“There’s nothing in the world that will make me regret having you as my husband,” you kissed both of his hands. “As far as the members of the council, I bet they will be happy knowing that I’m marrying at last, especially if it’s with someone as brilliant as you”.

“We will be the most powerful sovereigns this nation has seen,” Seonghwa sealed his promise with a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll give you all of me if you need it”.

“Then it shall be that way,” you kissed him back.

With the threat of an early morning, you tucked yourselves into bed. Seonghwa attached himself to your back, tangling his arms and legs until you couldn’t tell where began who. He released his soft breaths into your ear, slowly lulling you to your rest. Just as you were about to fall asleep, he muttered to you.

“I bet the council will really be happy with our marriage,” you could hear the grin in his voice, “because, with me, you won’t be having any problem conceiving that heir… Your Majesty”.

It was safe to say, you didn’t wake up early that day.

#teez the time #ateez #ateez fanfic #atiny #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #seonghwa angst

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