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florencemtrash · 4 days

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Minor character deaths. Major character injuries. Canon typical violence/graphic descriptions. Whoopdeedoo 9.2k words for you!

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

The lake lay flat and motionless as a mirror, like a pool of paint someone had spilled over grey stone. It extended past its dark borders, seeping into the ground beneath your feet and drenching the soil until it was thick as winter slush. You shivered just to stand in it.

Ione stumbled on the soft, marshy ground of the southeast blindspot. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to winnowing.

“Gods have mercy,” she swore beneath her breath, tugging at her cane from where it sank inches deep into the earth. There was a sucking sound as Ione gave another irritated pull.

Techaria allowed the woman to lean against her side, butterfly wings fluttering before turning invisible with a shiver of light. They attracted too much attention.

You blinked up at her in surprise, forgetting the dread that had your stomach churning. Magic like that usually hailed from the Day Court, which meant your father had chosen her to accompany you.

She shrugged noncommittally. “Helion had some say in deciding who would accompany you and Ione to the Continent. Everyone agreed I would be the best fit as someone familiar with both the Day and the Night Courts.”

You had dozens of questions you wanted to ask — how had she come to the Night Court? When did she join the ranks of the Valkyries, small in number as they were? What had possessed her to do such a thing?

But those were questions for another day when you weren’t trying to keep your stomach contents from revolting and your racing heart in check.

“Yes, that makes sense,” you agreed.

You gripped onto the straps of your pack, feeling the weight of two dozen siphons sitting within them. The plan was simple in nature, but would be difficult to execute — use Nesta as a distraction to lead Koschei away from the lake and give Ione enough time to unlock the power for herself. If your theory held true, the siphons would allow Ione to concentrate that power and destroy Koschei once and for all… at least that was the hope.

Bone-pale trees stood in loose clusters all around and up to the water’s true edge, bracing themselves against one another like wounded soldiers trudging through mud. You tried to imagine they were protecting you as they’d protected Andrian. A fragile barrier against Koschei’s influence both physically and metaphorically. Thin as they were, they did what they could to cover your movements and you saw no evidence of the activities you knew were taking place across these lands.

Some of the trees leaned out over the water with their pale, thin faces. Desperate to catch their own reflection in the inky stillness. Gray stones, round and smooth, filled the bottom of the lake, staring up like polished skulls through the brackish water. Or were they skulls after all? You couldn’t tell, although shadows appeared to look out through hollows that may have once been eyes.

The ground rose on your left, curling out towards you like a brown wave. The trees that grew over the wave’s crest looked healthier, their skeletal branches managing to hold onto the last of their frost-bitten leaves on sturdier ground unspoiled by the water.

You breathed through your nose and gagged. The heady scent of rot and death choked the air, the stench inescapable no matter how you breathed.

There was another sick smell creeping into the air. Something acrid, like chemicals set to flame in a flask. You tilted your head to the sky and gave a tentative sniff before frowning immediately. Whatever was causing the smell was close by.

Techaria looked down first and swallowed a scream. Her boots, which had sunk into the soil up to her calves, were sizzling.

Ione lifted her cane with a shaking hand and found the silver cap at its end similarly melting away. The metal smarted and popped off the wooden end, sinking into the ground and catching flame.

The lake was alive and it was hungry.

Techaria lunged forward, snatching the old woman around the waist and throwing her over her shoulder with a grunt. She took off towards higher ground, trusting that you would follow close behind. Not that you had much of a choice. You could either run or stand still and let your pearly white bones succumb to the lake’s magic. You rejected the latter option immediately.

You scrambled after them and with every step you felt the power of the lake seep closer and closer to your skin, begging to feast on the flesh of your bones.

The harder you pushed, the deeper your feet sank into the ground until every step felt like a battle with the gaping maw of a fish.

All at once you understood what Bethsevah had meant when she had locked the power beneath the lake. There was something in those waters not altogether evil, but hateful nevertheless — some essence of Bethsevah’s magic that would destroy whatever it identified as its enemy.

You were vaguely prideful and equally frustrated that your theories on magic as a biological system were proving true at every turn. You didn’t even know how you could quantify this for inclusion in your manuscript.

Good thoughts, wrong time. You thought as you kept running.

Techaria ran up the slope of the hill, digging her toes in before launching her body up by the strength of her back and catching onto a snarled claw of roots. For a split second, the roots threatened to snap and send both Techaria and Ione tumbling back down to the acidic mud. But Techaria made the final ascent, dropping Ione to the ground with little fanfare before she reached down for your hand.

“Come on!” She hissed, too terrified to make more sound.

There were ears and eyes in these woods. She could feel them blowing their foul breath against her neck.

Something whistled in the sky as you clawed your way up the sloped ground. An unearthly glow shot across Techaria’s terrified features as she latched onto your arm and yanked you up to safety. You cried out in pain, your ankles nearly popping out of their joints as your feet came free of your shoes.

Techaria rolled on top of you and slapped her hand over your lips hard enough to make your teeth rattle.

“Be quiet and stay still.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Techaria wove her magic around the three of you like a blanket, hiding you in plain sight just like she’d done with her wings.

Your breath caught in your chest when the source of the whistling came into view.

It was Vassa.

She seemed to have doubled in size and strength — no more dreary feathers or patches of picked skin. She sailed close to the treetops, brushing her wings against the sparse foliage and setting them aflame with what could have been a screech or a laugh.

Snapped branches, charred and crackling, rained over your head.

“Is she gone?” Techaria asked moments later, her face still locked on your eyes as you took shuddering breaths.

You nodded stiffly and the female finally released her hold on you.

“Your shoes—”

You shook your head. You still had one sock on your left foot, but your right settled into the dirt and you felt every poke of detritus against the sensitive skin. Down below you caught glimpses of your leather boots bubbling in the soil. There was no salvaging them.

“You can take mine.” Techaria offered, already bending down to undo the laces.

“Don’t. They won’t fit me anyway.” They were burnt beyond recognition and hanging on by weak threads. “And from the looks of them they won’t stay intact for much longer no matter who’s wearing them.”

But Ione was suspiciously unharmed. Her shoes were intact, as was the hemline of her cloak. The only item that seemed to have earned the lake’s ire was her cane. She waved it in the air, dispelling the smoke from its fuming end as if she were warding away evil.

Curious. You thought.

When you’d all caught your breath, you set out in search of safe ground closer to the water’s edge. You’d need easy access to its powers when the time came. Eventually you found your safe haven in the form of a willow hovering by a pool that bubbled out from the main lake. Its silvery sprays hung low, sparse and thin and sickly. But its roots held onto the soil well, keeping the ground firm and dry.

You pressed the palms of your hands into the ground, focusing on the subtle hum of magic that seemed to emanate from it. You dug through layers of topsoil, unspun the threads of magic like a ream of paper until you could read its contents. Every stroke of magic, its very signature, felt familiar.

It felt like Bethsevah.

“I want to test something,” you said, gesturing to Techaria’s long, coiled hair. Without hesitation, she let you cut off a golden lock. You lowered it towards the lake’s mirrored surface and quickly snatched your hand away when the strands disintegrated with a spark. All it had taken was a touch and poof. Gone.

You repeated your test with Ione’s and… nothing. Nothing but a knotted length of gray, damp hair. Ione stared at the lake’s frozen surface, feeling something pull her closer and closer.

She plunged her hands into the darkness.

You bit down a shout. Techaria leapt forward, grabbing a fistful of Ione’s cloak and pulling her back. You expected to see pure, white bone sticking out from the nubs of the wrist. At the very least, you expected some cracking of the universe as the ripples fluttered out and died. But once again… there was nothing.

Ione shrugged Techaria off her back before drying her hands on her cloak. “Well I think that settles any concern we had about my blood relationship to Bethsevah.”

Techaria couldn’t believe that such boldness could come from a woman so frail and aged.

You nodded. “Magic recognizes magic the same way blood does. It must be why you’re unaffected by the lake’s powers. It knows who you are.”

You quickly took off your satchel, ripping off the buckles and upending its contents. Two dozen siphons spilled out, blinking like sapphires. You tried to tamp down on the wave of longing that rolled over you as you saw their familiar color but not the familiar body that came with them.

Azriel.

Your mind whispered his name into the void as you clutched one of the blue stones.

I’ll find you again when this is all over. I promise.

The elaborate leatherwork Ione had strapped on her hands, elbows, chest, and knees were familiar to you. Illyrian-made and designed to hold siphons capable of collecting and focusing power.

You locked two of them into place on the backs of Ione’s hands, one at the center of her back, one at her chest, two at her elbows, and two at her knees. It was more than Azriel and Cassian wore, but Ione carried them with cold grace, as if she’d been born to carry out this task.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, girl,” Ione said as you finished tightening the straps.

“If you mean the armor, then yes, I do know what I’m doing.” It wasn’t the first time you’d handled Illyrian leather. You helped Azriel strip them off at the end of every day. It had become a ritual of sorts. You would unlace the armor at his elbows and knees and undo the buckles that kept his back brace secured beneath his wings. In return, Azriel would ghost his hands over your shoulders as you shrugged off your robes and undo whatever pins and knots had found their way into your hair that day.

You shivered at the thought of him and his careful touch. At all the things you hadn’t told him. All the things you’d never gotten to do with him. You’d both been so cautious and determined to take your time as if you’d had an endless abundance of it, but you were beginning to regret it now.

You swallowed those emotions.

You couldn’t let them distract you. Not now.

“If you mean everything else… I don’t.” You replied honestly. All of this was a gamble. You didn’t know if Ione would be able to handle the magic she was about to take on. And if she did survive, you didn’t know if the siphons you’d prepared would do anything to focus that power into something that could be used to kill a death god.

You slid a knife out from your thigh and Ione’s eyes flashed like two marbles caught in the sun. She too was thinking of all the ways the day could go wrong. But it was too late. She’d already committed to this next turn in her life and would see where the path took her.

But for now… they could only wait.

Azriel.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

Every so often, when your guard was down or your emotions were heightened, thoughts and feelings would trickle across the connection that bound you too together and knock at the doors of Azriel’s soul. As if the bond knew your thoughts lay with him and wanted to give him a taste of all that could be his one day.

Azriel. Focus. His brother’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. Shadows swarmed around him in a cloud so thick, he couldn’t see his brothers standing right next to him. They were all hidden in the same dark.

Is she safe, Rhys?

As safe as she can be with Ione and Techaria. They found the blindspot in Koschei’s magic. Y/n says some of the power in the lake belongs to Bethsevah, or at least used to, and will seek to destroy anything it doesn’t recognize. Take one step into those waters and it will burn you to a crisp.

So don’t touch the lake. Got it. I never was a fan of swimming. Cassian interjected. And I don’t believe my opinion will change after this day.

Azriel could feel the tension in his brother’s muscles the longer they were forced to stay hidden. Every twitch of his fingers as he drummed the hilt of his sword. Every rapid blink as he switched between conversations with Rhys, Nesta, and Feyre.

Will Koschei burn too then? Azriel thought aloud. If he touches the lake before unlocking his power?

That would make our lives infinitely easier, wouldn’t it? I would bet good coin I could wrestle him into the lake.

Something tells me Koschei isn’t the kind of man you can throw around, Cassian.

He’s not—

The words died in Cassian’s mind, shriveling up and wasting away like flowers at the end of their season.

He meant to tell Rhys, “He’s not a man at all.” But when Koschei emerged from the woods, languidly striding towards the lake, Cassian felt foolish for thinking anyone would need the reminder.

Koschei was not dressed for war.

Not a stitch of metal armor graced his skin. He wore only the unblemished flesh he’d been born in — grey as a stillborn child — and a length of pitch black fabric draped around his waist. Trails of white cord criss-crossed over his chest and wrapped around his throat like a necklace before looping down his arms.

Azriel narrowed his eyes, looking past his shadows, and shivered. It wasn’t white cord at all, but an endless chain of teeth strung together like stained pearls.

Koschei fingered them thoughtfully, counting each tooth and twisting the necklace around his neck so he could feel them drag across his skin. Molars, canines, and incisors alike were worn as decoration, testifying to the millions that had met their end beneath his feet.

Death followed at his heels, sucking the air dry until it felt hard to breathe. Where he walked through the grass, the ground turned black. Plants lost their color and collapsed in pathetic heaps. Worms sprung from the ground, wriggling and writhing like the unfurling of a carpet in search of new rot to consume.

He carried a scythe in his hands, rust streaming down the black metal like it was weeping tears of blood.

A scythe. How poetic, Feyre thought with a shiver. Where farmers used the humble tool to cut down their fields, Koschei used his to cut down men.

She gritted her teeth at the sight of something else in his hands. A metal chain tied around his wrist. One sharp tug and Ione — or rather, Nesta — stumbled out from the treeline by her neck.

Nesta!

I’m fine. She soothed her mate’s mind even as she followed Koschei’s beck and call, wrapping tendrils of cold flame around his boiling fury until it was at a simmer. The glare she shot into the death god’s back would have sent lesser men to their graves, but whenever he looked back at her with his alarmingly sympathetic smile, she masked that disdain, replacing it with a familiar mix of contempt and fear disguised as anger. He hasn’t hurt me.

She knew it was killing Cassian to watch as she was led to the lake like a lamb to slaughter. Every instinct of his screamed out to crush Koschei’s smooth skull beneath the heel of his boot for laying a hand on his mate. But whatever your magic had done was working. Vassa had dropped her at Koschei’s feet like a cat delivering a corpse and he had smiled so brightly, skin stretched to breaking over wide cheeks, that Nesta knew he’d been fooled.

He’d locked that chain around her neck, caressed her cheek with care, and walked with her all the way from his cabin in the woods to this thin stretch of beach. He hadn’t spoken a single word, but he’d sung.

Funeral songs.

Each and every one of them.

Some she recognized, others she didn’t. Sometimes he sang in languages that had been buried in graves a long, long time ago, their tombstones scattered as dust in the wind.

Pitch black eyes raked over the empty shores. His nostrils flared as he drank in the stench of decay and petrichor. Rain clouds huddled overhead, trembling in his presence as he smiled with a joy that didn’t reach his eyes.

He couldn’t remember the last time his hands had been drenched with fresh blood, but he was looking forward to it. When he was finally free of this place, he would go to Prythian and revel in the violence he’d been deprived of for so long.

He licked his lips and sighed. He could almost taste the iron on the tip of his tongue, brackish and pure. He began coiling the chain in his hands until Nesta was forced to kneel in front of him, not even a foot away from the still water. She could smell sickness on his skin, like that horrid summer in the human lands when plague bodies were left to bloat and spoil in the streets.

He gripped her face in one hand, pressing her cheeks until her lips parted. She fought the urge to bite off his fingers.

“I know you’re disgusted by me.” He spoke in a deep, grating voice. “But you must understand, I was not meant to be like this. When I was worshiped, when I had full grasp of my being, I was a more handsome sight to look upon.” He grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her face over the lake until she could see Ione’s face staring back at her.

“Thank you for giving that back to me, child.”

Later on, when Nesta reflected on yet another brush with death, she would marvel at how sincere she found his words.

He moved faster than light, a knife appearing in his hands that he aimed at Nesta’s throat.

But Cassian was faster.

He hurled himself out of the shadows, slamming into Koschei’s side in an explosion of red light that left a crater in the earth. The death god looked almost elegant as he was thrown onto his back, drapery smooth over his chest and legs as he regarded Cassian with a frigid frown, like he was an ant who had dared to splatter and mark the bottom of his shoe.

Cassian threw Nesta over his shoulder, sprinting off into the cover of the woods with his wings tucked tight between his shoulder blades.

Remember, You’d told him, We need to keep Koschei away from the lake for as long as possible. The moment Ione breaks the spell, he’ll know and he’ll come racing back to destroy us all.

He could hear Vassa screeching in the distance, the noise growing as the beat of her wings carried her back to the heart of the lake. Back to her master.

He also heard the rustling of the leaves as the wind picked up. The steady footsteps of warriors getting ready to make their assault.

Koschei did not run after them. It was beneath him to run. He may have lost his prize, but such things were temporary. He’d waited this long. He could afford to wait a little longer.

He took his scythe, raised the blade to his lips, and cut a vertical line down the center. Dark red blood, thick and clotted, spilled out from the wound and painted the blade. With an artful swing, he carved a circle into the sand and those things that were dead in the woods began to walk once more.

Ione clawed at her chest the moment Koschei drew blood, some wild feeling in her spirit begging her to turn and sprint into the deep woods or to hide in the tall grasses like a bunny escaping a hound.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?”

You remembered she wasn’t blessed with the sight and sound of the fae. She couldn’t see what was happening on the other edges of the lake as Koschei finally began to walk after Cassian and Nesta. But she could feel it as keenly as you and Techaria that something was amiss. A malicious power was bleeding into the world and ripping souls from their rest.

It’s finally begun.

The ground shook with silent thunder.

Techaria’s amber skin turned white, wings flickering back into the seeing world before disappearing again as she regained her focus.

The wind whistled past you, skeletal branches beginning to rise and fall as they bowed over and over and over again in frantic prayer. The trees by the water leaned further down, kissing the lake with their lips and watching as they were burned away, leaving black craters on their faces.

The earth trembled and bones rose from their graves, creeping up inch by inch like shiny, white pustules. Some still clung to their rotted flesh, stringy and dark and rank. Others were as smooth as pearls, picked clean by the scavengers of the earth. But all of them began clustering together, held up by magic as new tendons sprang into existence and knit the bones close.

You couldn’t believe how quickly those crooked creatures ran. Their movements were erratic yet purposeful as they weaved in between the gaps in the trees and through the rustling tall grasses, followed by distant screams and shouts and the ringing of steel and—

“Do it,” Ione commanded, holding out her wrists with a grimace.

You clutched the knife tighter, but didn’t move. “Ione, I—”

The woman’s eyes hardened. She had not traveled all this way for fear to take over. She had not lived to this age or survived a fucking war to be afraid of death now.

“I’m an old woman, Y/n. It’s a miracle I’ve kept my sanity this long. I can afford to lose it today. Now, if you don’t use that knife for its intended purpose, hand it over and I’ll do it myself!” She growled.

You sucked in a deep breath and without further hesitation, cut a line across the woman’s wrists. She hissed in pain before she turned and held out her hands so her blood could drip, drip, drip down, and disturb the smooth mirrored surface of the lake.

He’s not following us, Cassian. Cassian!

Nesta held onto him for dear life, burying her face in the folds of his wings as he sprinted through the woods like a wild horse.

Koschei was meant to be following them.

It wouldn’t matter that Ione could break the magic of the lake if Koschei was there to snatch it up instead.

Nesta felt a wave of power roll over the woods. Cassian held his breath, his stomach dropping towards the cradle of his hip bones.

I think you’ve spoken too soon, Nes.

Twisted creatures dropped down from the trees, pale with pitch black eyes and gaping mouths. Nesta gave a shout as one grabbed hold of her shoulder and threw her off Cassian’s back.

Two more leapt atop of Cassian, narrowly missing the curve of his throat with their teeth as he jerked back and then shot out bursts of power.

NESTA!

She screamed, beating at the creature with her fists. Long, black strands of flesh fell from its skull, drooping over Nesta’s cheeks with a slimy touch. Just when she thought she’d need to pull from her own power, Cassian’s hands burst through its chest, tearing apart its chest in a shower of red light and bone fragments.

“Come on!”

The wind stopped howling so loudly. The temperature of the air dropped. And suddenly there was Koschei, looming just above Cassian’s shoulder with his stretched-skin smile and empty eyes.

Cassian caught sight of the death god in Nesta’s eyes, rolling out of the way of his scythe before it could take off his head.

Nesta played the role of the old woman, scrambling away on all fours as bone-beasts gathered around like crows to a corpse. They clicked their teeth together, heads popping in and out of sockets as they closed off all avenues of escape.

But Nesta’s attention was squarely on Cassian as he and Koschei danced through the trees. Her mate had never looked more alive than while fighting a god of death, with his sweat-slicked hair and cheeks painted red from exertion. There was a light in his eyes as he dove and twisted away from the swinging scythe and Nesta swore she could hear his wildly beating heart over the chaos.

Are you glad he followed us now, Nesta? He could still find it within himself to tease her.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

She gritted her teeth, picking up a rotten log and beating away a creature that dared to cock its head in her direction with hunger.

Despite the rush of blood in Cassian’s ears and the growing ache in his body, he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Nesta’s curses in his mind. He stamped down on the scythe with his left foot and kicked it away with his right. It flew through the air, embedding itself in the trunk of a dead elm at the same time that Cassian sank his sword into Koschei’s ribs.

Koschei looked down at the blade in his side, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes.

His shoulders twitched… then began to shake.

Koschei was laughing.

Cords of unnaturally defined muscle pulsed around Cassian’s sword, sucking and swallowing like a starving dog. Cassian’s stomach turned. His brain muddled and grew hot, for there was no blood to be found when he finished twisting the blade and wrenched it loose.

Worms, wriggling, pink-grey worms, poked their heads out from the wound, writhing and coagulating before becoming flesh once more.

Koschei stopped laughing, but the smile never left him as he locked eyes with the Lord of Bloodshed.

“It’s been a long while since anyone laid a hand on me, let alone twice.” His words were heavy with condescension. “Well done.”

Cassian reeled back, dropping his weapon as the muscles of his right arm seized with a vengeance. He ripped off his gauntlet, watching as the veins of his hand turned purple… then black. The skin followed suit, decaying before his very eyes.

He dropped to his knees, cradling the ruined limb against his chest and howling in pain.

Nesta saw red and lost her mind as Cassian’s pain erupted down the bond.

She shrieked so loud and so powerfully that the bone-beasts vibrated before shattering into dust.

She tore away the magic you’d spent days weaving over her skin and through her blood like they were cobwebs until it wasn’t Ione standing in front of Koschei, but a Lady of Death in her own right.

Recognition flickered through Koschei as the scythe flew back into his hands.

“Sister?”

Then.

Drip.

And a piece of Koschei’s soul cracked open. His eyes flew open in surprise. His mouth dropped and a dozen flies swarmed out, buzzing with anticipation and hunger.

Someone had unlocked the power in the lake. His power.

Nesta lunged at him and landed in the dirt, damp leaves slipping and sliding beneath her hands and knees. Koschei was already gone.

Cassian moaned. His skinned burned from the inside out. Is this what his death would be? He felt like a pig slowly roasting on a split.

“Cassian, Cassian, my love.” Nesta crawled over to him, tearing buckles and leather armor off his chest and arms. “Cassian. Look at me.”

His eyes opened, bleary and unfocused.

“Nes,” he whispered, feeling cool kisses of wind pepper his burning flesh. “How bad is it?”

Nesta went quiet. His right arm was black up to the elbow and the infection of Koschei’s touch was only spreading. Darkening veins bloomed towards his shoulder, like ink running down coarse paper. Soon it would spread to his chest and kill him.

“Nes?” He felt her caress his mind. Felt her soothing his soul before quietly shutting him out.

She eyed the sword abandoned on the ground, walked over, and picked it up. Cassian didn’t need to ask her what she meant to do as she stood above him and raised the blade above her head. His wife, his mate, had never been one to shy away from hard decisions.

“Damn, Nes,” he said through gritted teeth and adjusted his position so she had a clear path to his arm. “Just do it.”

“I love you, Cassian,” she said through tears.

“I know.”

Then she brought down the sword, and severed Cassian’s arm from his shoulder.

Drip.

The water turned red, swirls of color spreading out through the dark until every inch of the lake had turned as crimson as a rose.

Azriel slipped in and out of shadows, cutting down Koschei’s creatures just as quickly as they reformed. Beads of sweat gathered at his brow, painting his cheeks and neck with salty strokes.

EVERYONE TO THE WATER! NOW!

Feyre’s command rang in his mind and in a flash of shadow, he materialized on the beach.

The High Lady’s silver armor shone like starlight — a beacon for warriors to flock to as they came staggering out of the trees and grasses covered in the blood of their friends.

Behind me! Rhys shouted from Feyre’s side.

He crouched low as the bone beast sailed over his head, its crooked jaw open wide. Feyre plunged her fingers into its eye sockets, curling them around the nose bridge and holding tight as Rhys drove his sword up and into the dark flesh of its underside. His sword channeled his power, exploding the creature from the inside as it thrashed. Its jaws still snapped and twisted, screeching at a high-pitch until Feyre crushed it to dust.

Light, wind, fire, and ice exploded on the beach as High Lords and High Ladies poured out their power. Viviane threw her hands up, sending hundreds of shards of clear-cut ice towards Vassa as the firebird swooped down and bit off the head of an Autumn Court soldier. There came a scream as fire met ice and steam blanketed the ground, thick as early morning mist.

Koschei’s creatures never stopped spilling out of the woods, piecing themselves back together in increasingly bulky, horrid formations. Even the fragments on the ground were restless, crawling over bodies like maggots, filling the eyes, and ears, and mouths of corpses until they were compelled to stand and fight with twitching limbs.

To Azriel’s right, Helion fought a wolf-man hybrid, shoving light down the creature’s throat until it lay convulsing on the ground. Somewhere to his left, the High Lord of Autumn was kneeling in the wet sand, shaking the bloodless body of one of his brothers and screaming at him to wake up. Azriel tried blinking the grit out of his eyes, shadows streaming over his arms and around his body like a shield.

One blink and there was nothing but the misty haze before him.

Another blink and there was Koschei with his scythe in hand and a line of blood from his lips all the way down to his sternum.

Eris stopped cradling his brother’s body. The tears evaporated from his cheeks as he stood on shaking legs and pulled out his knife. He wanted to be close when he made the kill. This was personal.

Koschei tipped his head to the side as he regarded the High Lord. Then he smiled. He enjoyed it immensely when they fought back.

The passion and hope and rage was just so delicious, like salt sprinkled over a fine meal.

So when Eris roared, his metal armor turning pure white as he burst into flame, what else could Koschei do but slide his tongue over his lips and taste death?

Eris clapped his hands together above his head, bringing them down in a stroke of white flame that Azriel felt blaze past his shoulder. Koschei swung his scythe and severed the flames in two, cutting a neat circle in the sand. Then he swung again and in an arc of light, the power of a High Lord of Prythian met the power of a death god.

Lighting cracked through the air, structures of sand erupting and trapping the arc of the bolt like a snake’s tongue.

The scythe won.

Blood splatter decorated the ground as Eris’s armor was torn off him. His helm of oak branches and gold cracked in two, clattering to the ground before his body followed suit. Lucien ran forward, dragging Eris away as he gurgled and gasped for breath.

Koschei sighed, dragging a finger down the handle of his scythe. “Oh how I’ve missed this.”

Ione felt the power call out the moment her blood hit the water. It was a thousand symphonies playing at the same time, calls from a hundred desperate lovers asking for her hand as she stared at her reflection and felt the world around her drown itself to music.

Drip… drip… drip.

“Ione… Ione… IONE!”

Her eyes went dark and hungry, her hands curling into claws that wanted to reach out and take, and take, and take.

She shrugged off the hand you laid on her back, plunged her head into the iron-laced water, and began to drink.

Every gulp was a breath of fresh air. An electric zing through her blood she hadn’t felt in decades as the pain of time-worn bones melted away.

She felt untouchable.

She felt alive.

Like the first time she’d taken a man to her bed, his dramatic gasps rolling out from beneath her as she dug her nails into the headboard and drove her hips down. Like the day she’d run away from home with nothing but a bag of copper, the clothes on her back, and bruises blossoming on her knuckles. Like the morning she’d awoken in a strange town miles away from home and seen her endless future unfurling before her.

Yes. That’s what she was. Endless.

“IONE!” You screamed through water-logged ears.

Ione’s skin, wrinkled and dusted with sunspots, began to clear. Light, hot and saturated as a sunset, pressed against her skin from the inside. Like a parasite ready to burst, it roiled and bubbled within her, consuming her every thought except that she needed to keep drinking until the lake was completely empty and she’d reached the depths of Koschei’s magic.

“You need to stop! You’re taking too much! IONE!” The siphons she wore were bright as stars, cracks appearing in their surface as they tried to contain the power coursing through her system and failed. You kept replacing the ones you could reach, throwing the overcharged stones to Techaria until you ran out.

You grabbed the leather straps criss-crossing over Ione’s back and yanked. Hard.

Ione threw out her hand and the siphons on her body exploded. Your head burst with pain as you were thrown back with enough force to snap the trunk of a chestnut tree. The world swam before you. Colors melted like the paint water Feyre cleaned her brushes in.

Ione drank and drank and drank, craning her neck ever forward as the water level dropped at an alarming rate.

Techaria looped her arms around the old woman’s chest, digging her heels into the ground and heaving with all her might. But the woman didn’t budge, too drunk off power and possibility to let anyone stand in her way. Ione used her newly acquired strength to grab Techaria’s wrists and together they dove into the water and disappeared.

Blood dripped down your temples, dampening your hair as you crawled your way to the lake’s edge.

Techaria’s wings floated to the surface, orange crystalline membrane sizzling like steel wool.

The water dropped another three feet before Ione reemerged. If you hadn’t seen her go in, you wouldn’t have recognized her when she came out. Her grey hair was now so blonde it may as well have been moonbeam cascading down her back and over her breasts. Her skin shone, pale and perfect. Her pupils were but pinpricks in the fabric of her steel grey eyes.

You whimpered when she looked at you, her stare flat and empty as the air around her rippled and turned white.

For a moment she looked like she might smile.

But then she took in a shuddering breath, lower lip trembling as her mouth filled with blood. She dragged her hands down her face, peeling away the skin as fissures broke out full of light and crackling with electricity.

“Get it out. Get it out! GET IT OUT! NOOOOOOOOO!”

Ione blew apart.

Her blood rained over your head, drenching you so thoroughly you may as well have gotten caught in a thunderstorm.

Bethsevah hadn’t been able to control the power nestled within the lake. To possess it for even a short period of time had nearly driven her mad. You should have known Ione never stood a chance.

If things go wrong, find me so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.

“I promise, Azriel. I promise.”

You walked in a daze, muttering those words to yourself over and over again. You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t even register the change in the air as you stepped out of the blindspot’s safety and began walking.

And walking.

Towards where you could only hope Azriel was still fighting.

You tripped over a body, salt-crusted braids peeking out from beneath a helm of coral and seashell. Paisley blue eyes, deep and dark and bloodshot, stared lifelessly at the sky. You staggered back to your feet, picking up the pace as you stumbled through a maze of corpses.

You slipped when the ground turned to pure ice. It splintered outwards from two bodies like a starburst.

Viviane, armed to the teeth in blue steel and a crown of ice protruding from her white curls, rocked back and forth on her heels while cradling Kallias’s head in her hands.

She wailed as his body turned cold. Frost clung to his long, pale lashes and where his blood pooled around his pale blue robes the ice melted and cotton grass grew in quiet, white tufts.

Onwards you walked, until you felt a familiar tap at the edges of your mind.

Y/n! What’s going on? Where are you? Your High Lady’s voice rang loud and clear.

It’s over, Feyre. Ione’s dead. Techaria’s dead.

What do you mean? What happened? TELL ME!

Ione wasn’t strong enough to hold Koschei’s power. She… she killed Techaria. She blew apart into a million pieces. I’m covered in her.

You spit on the ground, wiping away the taste of blood on your lips. It clung to you like a second skin, seeping into your pores and burying itself there.

Y/N!

It was a different voice calling out to you this time. You heard it on the wind, soft and faint as an echo. Or maybe you were finally losing your mind. But it didn’t matter. You would have followed Azriel’s voice anywhere.

You started to run, or rather stumble forward, hearing the clanging of steel and shattering of bones grow louder and louder. Through the gaps in the trees you saw Koschei standing as immovable as a mountain. He had one hand splayed out — silver lines splintering out in the air like and holding back the assault of Rhysand and Helion’s power. With the other he swung outward with his scythe, the rusted blade sprayed with fresh blood.

The High Lord of Summer beat aside the weapon, the moisture he’d plucked from the air fluctuating around him like a brilliant, blue sea creature. Feyre trapped the scythe in the sand, crossing her twin swords in an X and giving Tarquin the chance he needed to bring down his spear and shatter the weapon with a boom that exploded through the woods and sent you sprawling back on hands and knees.

Koschei hissed and he lurched back with what remained of his weapon — a metal rod tapering to a jagged, thin end. That fleeting moment of triumph on Tarquin’s face fell away when Koschei stepped close and drove that jagged end through Tarquin’s stomach. His iridescent, pearl-encrusted armor may as well have been crafted from paper the way it crumbled and tore.

Rhysand roared, finally breaking through Koschei’s shield as Feyre threw herself over Tarquin and raised a barrier to protect them both. He snapped his wings out to the side, leaping through the air in an arc that had you holding your breath.

Black feathers exploded from his skin. His hands elongated, curling into claws capable of shredding through steel and iron.

This was the High Lord of the Night Court.

Rhysand was darkness given monstrous form.

Night triumphant.

The strongest elements of his Illyrian and high fae heritage combined.

Koschei plucked Rhysand out of the air like he was a fly.

Grabbed hold of his wings.

And tore them off his back.

“RHYS!” Feyre’s shriek tore through the air, forcing everyone to turn their heads and watch as the High Lord of the Night Court’s wings drifted to the ground like silk.

Rhysand didn’t cry out, too in shock at the loss of such a familiar weight from his shoulder blades. He felt Feyre’s horror and pain where he couldn’t feel anything. His body all but shut down. He landed in the dirt, sand rolling around his tongue and stealing the moisture from his mouth. Then Feyre was there, smoothing back his hair and telling him not to move. He fumbled around for her hand, feeling it clamp down and never let go.

Koschei loomed over the High Lord and High Lady, looking down at the fire in Feyre’s grey-blue eyes with a sneer. It was a sight he was too familiar with — a foolish girl making foolish decisions in the name of love. It filled him with an indescribable hatred.

His wall of magic built itself up again and would not bend or break, no matter how Helion threw his blows down in cascades of golden light to help his friends.

Feyre spit on the ground as tendrils of decay scattered out from Koschei’s feet, dampening her magic until she could only drag Rhysand over her lap and press her lips to the top of his head.

Helion gritted his teeth. His magic was fading fast, even as he kept finding new places within himself to pull strength from. Koschei’s shield was weakening, he could feel it stretching thin as he began to divide his attention towards the High Lady and High Lord of Night stretched out before him.

Just… a little… longer. He promised himself, even as his legs shook and buckled until he was down on his knees.

There was a flash of red at his side and Helion’s brows shot into his hairline when Lucien Vanserra slipped into his peripheral vision, palms out and pouring every ounce of energy in his body towards the weakening hole in Koschei’s shield. There was something about him that Helion recognized. Some close connection that revealed itself as the golden flame of Lucien’s power joined his own.

Helion’s stomach bottomed out. He was in freefall. “Lucien?” He asked breathlessly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Lucien replied through gritted teeth.

Koschei snapped out his wrist and an obsidian blade, thin as a needle, appeared in his palm. It seemed to shriek as he swung it down, screaming with a thousand voices like a choir from hell.

Azriel slipped out from the darkness, shadows pouring out to block the attack.

No. You breathed. No, no, no, no, no, no, no—

Azriel was cunning. You’d seen him in action and knew he was talented beyond measure and armed with a skillset that could rival the High Lords of Prythian. But even he was no match for Koschei.

The death god stuck his hand through the assault of shadows and lifted Azriel into the air with a mere flick of his palm.

He tore Azriel’s shadows away from him, peeling them back like a second skin until they fell limp to the ground. Had he killed them? You’d never stopped to think that such a thing was possible.

Azriel stifled the screams that rose in his throat. He had promised himself he would never cry out in pain — never beg for anything — since the day his brothers had ruined his hands.

But then he locked eyes with you and heard you scream his name as you ran towards him barefoot and bleeding over the battlefield. And he found reason to beg.

“NO!” He roared over the shrieking of shadows in his ears. “GET OUT OF HERE, Y/N!”

There was only one way he’d die a good male and that was if you managed to escape. That was the only hope on his mind. The only prayer on his lips as he begged you to leave him. To leave them all.

“Y/N! PLEASE!” He cried out in pain, thrashing in the air.

Promise aside, you couldn’t leave him. You’d never stopped to entertain the thought that Azriel might be the one to die today. He was too good. Too strong. But if this was the end of his road, you would follow close behind. That was a promise no magic or death god would ever get in the way of.

You gasped, feeling something beneath your ribs tighten and lock.

The bond snapped into place so powerfully you almost fell apart in the sand.

It was a sliver of moonbeam laced with shadow that tied you to the one person in the entire world you’d felt safe with. The first person you could ever truly call home.

Azriel’s face crumbled, tears streaming down his cheeks as the world fell away from him until you were the only bright and shining thing. A single star dropped onto a black sky.

And Azriel… Azriel was everything to you.

I’m only a Librarian. You thought even as you ran forward, eyes locked on your mate. You weren’t meant for war or strategy or cunning. You belonged in the stacks, huddled over ancient pages. Not on blood-soaked grounds hundreds of miles from home.

But more than that, you belonged with Azriel. You were meant for each other. As intrinsically as gravity bound the seas to the earth, Azriel grounded you and you centered him. To lose him now would mean being untethered from the world. To float away into a nothingness that wasn’t serene or patient, but dark and lonely.

You wouldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

You had done what no one else had been capable of doing. You’d read through Bethsevah’s history. For a moment, when you’d been close to death on the cobblestone streets of Velaris, you had felt her power fill you like a cup of wine, her memories overflowing from the pages of her book until you had become her.

If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood.

You’d had a taste of that power. You knew the shapes it took beneath your hands. You knew how it felt when it was running through your veins like blood. And it was this knowledge that you clung to with reckless abandonment as you began to pull Bethsevah’s memories from the reaches of your mind, donning them like a costume.

Without thinking twice, you switched courses, desperation fuelling your legs as you sprinted towards the glossy, blood-red lake before you. Azriel was still screaming your name, begging you to stop, and you heard your father and brother’s voices join in his pleading. The bond, still so fresh and vulnerable, echoed his horror as you ran right up to the lake’s edge and leapt into the waters.

I don’t know how to swim. You remembered as the darkness enveloped you. Lucien never taught me and I don’t know if he’ll ever get a chance to.

You thought that by looking up you’d see a warped image of the sky, bordered by murky outlines of the trees as they swayed and bowed. Instead, you saw a reflection of yourself. You floated inches above yourself, lips closed tight as you felt the growing need for oxygen begin to bloom in your lungs.

It was warm here, but it did not burn like it did before. You held onto the knowledge of Bethsevah’s power, feeling the texture of it beneath your fingertips and carefully undoing the threads of your own magical signature before remaking it to match. Months ago, you had shared a theory with Azriel that Clairvoyants possessed a particular ability to alter their magical signatures to match others. A form of magical mimicry and another example of your studies bleeding into the real world and shaping the fabric of the universe.

You’d tested that theory with Nesta when you’d hid her from Koschei, but now it was time for a second experiment.

You did not burn. Not even when you opened your lips and let the water pour in.

It slipped down your throat like whiskey, setting your blood ablaze and sending shivers across your skin. With each gulp you felt stronger. The wounds on your body sealed shut. The bruises beneath your eyes faded.

You reached deep into that wealth of power to find what belonged to Koschei, Thanatos, Stryga, and Bethsevah. You absorbed the knowledge embedded in their magic, and time crumbled beneath your touch as you began undoing and reweaving their magical signatures into something utterly changed.

It was careful, pensive work. The kind of work that could only belong to a Librarian and a Clairvoyant.

With the power of three death gods and a warrior flooding through your veins, you pulled yourself to the edge of that mirror and stared at your own reflection. Your clothes were gone and your body healed. Once, you would have cringed at the sight of your own skin. But no more.

You drank.

And drank.

Until the lake was only an empty pit in the ground.

All creatures, dead and alive and in-between, felt it when the powers within the lake broke a second time.

Koschei dropped Azriel and he fell flat onto his back, raw and broken. His shadows were gone, and now matter how he called out for them, they did not return.

He grasped on to the bond, desperately tugging on it to make sure you were still breathing on the other side.

“Y/n,” he whispered. His voice was stripped back to nothing.

You were still there, but you felt faint, as if more distance stretched between you than a hundred meters.

He rolled onto his stomach, digging his fingernails into the sand and dragging himself forward inch by bloody inch. But the lake drew away from him, water levels plummeting like someone had reached down and pulled the stopper from a bathtub.

The bond roared, heat blooming in his chest with new power as you revealed yourself. First it was the smooth expanse of your back, then your head as it dipped further and further down to drink what remained of the lake’s magic until there wasn’t a single drop left.

Koschei stood in shock, his bloodless skin growing even paler as you stood up and pinned him to the ground with your stare. You shone brighter than the sun, moon, and all the stars in the universe combined and Azriel couldn’t pull his gaze away.

You had never looked more otherworldly — more ethereal — than in that very moment.

You moved forward so quickly, Azriel didn’t register it until you were standing in front of Koschei, naked and perfect.

You grabbed Koschei’s face in your hands, his jaw slack and open. He tried to move but found that his feet had been driven into the ground like tent poles. For the first time in his immortal life, Koschei felt fear.

You shoved power into his body — down his throat, his eyes, his ears — until he was vibrating with untempered energy. His skin started to split apart, light spilling out from the fissures like lava rock and dripping down his body like blood. He felt his own power attack him, killing him from the inside out as you kept pouring more and more magic into Koschei before it could destroy you as well. He was being unwritten from this world. Every muscle fiber snapped in two. Every cell in his body swelled and burst like a grape.

You held onto the bond, letting it act as an anchor for your sanity so you wouldn’t die like Ione did, and Azriel held on too. Gods did he hold on. He held on so tight you could feel the pressure in your ribs like he was holding your body together and not just your soul.

You leaned close, allowing your breath to fan over Koschei’s rotten face. “No one touches my mate,” you seethed.

And Koschei blew apart into a trillion microscopic pieces.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Thank you for your patience as I worked to get this chapter out! And um.... sorry if it wasn't what you were hoping for.

Now let me just—

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst #minor character death #major character injury #sorry y'all the batboys weren't leaving this fight intact... quite literally

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8bitrosethorn · 5 days

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I know the plot of the next ACOTAR book

Your girl’s back with a new theory and this time, it’s more receipts from ACOFAS. Continuing with my theory (link) that the next two novels in the ACOTAR series will be about Elain and Mor (in that order), I went back to look at the structure of ACOFAS and for any more clues on Elain’s book 🧐

Last night, something hit me on my latest reread. I wanted to look at how Cassian’s introductory chapters unfolded through a lens of what we now know of his and Nesta’s story in ACOSF, and use those parallels to look closer at Azriel and Elain’s chapters (as narrated by Feysand).

So let’s dive deeper…

THE EVIDENCE

Exhibit 1

In Chapter 2, we start with Rhysand’s POV. Here are the first 3 sentences.

🔻 Cassian was already pissed — the start of ACOSF has Cassian and Nesta both frustrated and at their lowest/feeling like failures (Cassian with the Illyrian problem, Nesta with herself/her sisters/her father's death).

🔻 the Illyrian Mountains — training and the climax of ACOSF all surround them and Ramiel (which is also featured in Chapter 3 when Cassian flies by it).

🔻 the gray peaks — characters in ACOTAR are continuously referenced with repeating colors, and Nesta’s most notably is gray (sometimes referred to as steel, which is a fun double entendre with weaponry).

And in Chapter 3, we have Cassian’s POV. Here are the first 3 paragraphs:

🔻 Devlon and his warriors — the Illyrian warriors are antagonists against Nesta in the Blood Rite

🔻 the murmurings of discontent — the motivation for that growing threat that Nesta faces in the Blood Rite and the patriarchal legacies that the Valkyries are upending

🔻 hell of a weapon against enemies in battle — Nesta’s new trove of weapons she Made: the greatsword, sword, and dagger.

In both of these chapters, there are other recurring themes and imagery, including The Blood Rite, Ramiel, fire/campfires/embers, and more interestingly, Cassian visiting his mother’s unmarked grave, something that Nesta literally does when she visits her father’s grave at the very end of ACOSF.

Every major plot that Nesta and Cassian faced as a couple was explored in the first two chapters reintroducing Cassian for the spinoff series.

Using this evidence, we can deduce that the next chapters exploring Azriel will feature the same sort of foreshadowing, setup, and potential payoff in the upcoming novel (which I predict will be Elain’s book).

Exhibit 2

In Chapter 7, we start again with Rhysand’s POV. Here are the first 3 paragraphs:

🔹 You really do know how to give Solstice presents, Az — We all know about the necklace for Elain at this point. But also interestingly, Elain gives Azriel two significant Solstice gifts, one of which he keeps by his nightstand to longingly look at every night, the other a pair of earplugs (which we can deduce will have their use in the upcoming book).

🔹 wall of windows — something I’ve noticed (and want to dive deeper on later) is that both Azriel and Elain are often associated with windows.

Azriel: grew up in a lightless, windowless room; stares out the window of the townhouse to the garden during ACOFAS, presumably to watch a gardener at work; in the HOW lounge area, his unofficial chair is nearest to the window. Elain: during her time after becoming Fae, she sat near the bay windows in the HOW; during ACOFAS Solstice, she watches the snow fall outside the windows before Azriel joins her there; her smile was described by Nesta as being as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows.

Windows can symbolize freedom, desire to explore, and pathways to the outside world. They also focus on providing sight, something very important to a Seer who can look beyond the world in front of them to something more, but I digress!

🔹 private — Azriel is described as the most private, secretive of the Bat Boys (with both his emotions and his lovers), so I thought it was worth noting.

🔹 awash in the hues of the early morning — only one character is consistently described as glowing like the sun at dawn (even by Azriel himself, no less).

🔹 might as well have been stone — there is a wealth of repeating imagery of Elain associated with stone: sitting on a stone bench with her father surrounded by blue and pink flowers (haha, I see you SJM), Elain washed onto the stone floor by the Cauldron after becoming Fae, Elain hearing a heartbeat through stone, etc.

🔹 just after dawn — I see you again, SJM 😏

🔹 that sleep had been futile — although this is about Rhysand being tired, there is a wealth of sleep imagery surrounding both Azriel and Elain. Most notably Azriel’s inability to get a goodnight’s rest the past year as he’s been thinking of Elain at night. And Elain, who says she feels like “she’s always dreaming these days” in regards to her Seer powers.

I also want to dive into the sleep imagery surrounding these two and their potential Sleeping Beauty ties. But alas, a post for another day.

🔹 Tamlin and his borders — Conflict with the Human Lands, similar to Cassian’s with the Illyrians and the growing discontent, which then ties into the next part of the chapter.

Rhysand and Azriel move on to the next conflict at hand: Vassa, the Human Lands, and the sorcerer-lord’s curse, which they discuss after deeming Cassian to handle the growing Illyrian conflict, leaving Azriel to “continue to watch [the human queens]” and the “strange gathering” happening in the human lands. We also learn that the curse on Vassa by the sorcerer-lord might be woven into [Vassa’s] very blood (put a pin in this).

Finally, Rhysand and Azriel turn their attention to how they might get a handle on the situation to the south:

🔹 As our human emissary — While Lucien may have been considered the human emissary to the Night Court during ACOFAS, per Mor in ACOSF, Lucien can no longer be trusted as he is now living with Vassa and Jurian in the human lands. Does this perhaps leave an opening to a new human emissary of the Night Court? Maybe even Elain, who could convince anyone with a few smiles.

🔹 the tenseness — interesting of Rhysand to point out considering Azriel is usually impossible to read. Something is stressing him about this situation causing some sort of internal conflict

🔹 shadows veiling half of himself from the sunlight — an interesting parallel to the iconic carved, wooden rose scene in ACOSF when Nesta places the rose the exact same way, half-hidden in shadows.

🔹 elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side — elegant and cold are repeating descriptors for Azriel and Truth-Teller’s significance after HOFAS has only grown. 🗡

🔹 “He is Elain’s mate.” — one of our next conflicts: Elain’s mating bond (which is also supported by Azriel’s BC).

🔹 “invasion of her privacy” — interesting to me that privacy is brought up again… perhaps alluding to something secret or forbidden?

Towards the end of their discussion, Rhys and Azriel move on to Cassian's favorite subject, Bryaxis:

🔹 “No word on Byraxis, I take it.” / “Do you want me to hunt it down?” — Like hunting for the troves in ACOSF, I believe Azriel will hunt Bryaxis down in the next book. Given how he’s an ancient, shadowy monster, I’d be curious how Bryaxis could perhaps provide incite into Koschei 👀 Also, what does Bryaxis want installed in the library? A goddamn window.

🔹 beneath this mountain — perhaps we’ll see underneath another mountain explored, given Eris’s parting words to Cassian and Nesta at the end of ACOSF 🏔

🔹 My brother had a sly, wicked sense of humor — this also aligns with Elain, whose Solstice presents to Az have both been cheeky and made him laugh.

From this chapter alone, we can see the major plot points building: Azriel spying on the human lands, Vassa’s curse and Koschei’s control over her, Bryaxis still on the run, Truth-Teller’s significance, and Elain’s mating bond.

Which finally leads us to Feyre’s chapter where Elain is front and center.

Exhibit 3

In Chapter 15, Feyre and Elain visit the weaver’s shop while looking for Solstice presents for their family, where a very interesting conversation goes down:

🌸 the weaver paused the loom — similar to the the curse woven into Vassa’s very blood, weaver imagery surrounds the conflicts of both Vassa's curse and Elain’s mating bond, especially as mating bonds are described as threads, particularly as one tied to a rib by Elain. This also aligns with the multitude of Sleeping Beauty imagery surrounding Elain.

🌸 my sister’s gaze — lol, I mean, I love when SJM does this over and over. We know Elain’s gaze is special as a Seer.

🌸 “I call it Hope.” — Elain, who is constantly described as hope and having a different sort of strength, which aligns with Azriel, who Rhys declares taught him how to hope. Perhaps Elain and Azriel are connected by an iridescent, living silver thread that is bright despite the darkness?

🌸 “I made it after I mastered Void.” — Elain’s Seer abilities are often described as the murky realm, a void that she needed to be freed from when Azriel recognized her powers. She declares in ACOSF she can start reacquainting herself with her powers to help the Inner Circle. Since Nesta stepped in, we haven’t seen her truly do this yet. Also… the weaver Made it 😜

From this small conversation, we can see SJM is playing with classic Sleeping Beauty fairytale imagery and how it connects to Elain as not just a Seer, but as a light in the darkness. I believe for Elain’s book where she finds her voice, we will see her master the Void, aka her Seer powers, and perhaps weave something made from Hope, like a mating bond and healing Vassa’s curse.

CONCLUSION

SJM clearly laid out the stories to be explored in the next books with ACOFAS, a plan she said she’s had for years. This does not mean that we won’t see more from our other favorite characters (looking at you, Nesta and the Valkyries).

But based on the evidence I shared last time that Elain’s book is unequivocally next, here we can see that the storylines set up in ACOFAS were paid off for Cassian and Nesta in their book.

So, I can without a doubt say we know what’s coming:

Elain’s book, where she will explore the main conflicts of the growing threat in the human lands as possible human emissary, her mating bond with Lucien, her feelings for Azriel, mastering her Seer powers, Hope vs the Void, and breaking Vassa’s curse.

I can’t wait for the book announcement in the months to come for our favorite flower girl 🌸

Next time, I’ll explore Mor’s first chapters in the Hewn City and why I believe her story will be paired with the defeat of Koschei (There was no light in this place and eternal darkness dwelled in the Hewn City, anyone?).

Thanks for reading 💖

#acotar #acotar theory #acotar thoughts #pro elriel #elriel #elain archeron #pro elain #azriel #elriel supremacy #azriel x elain #elain x azriel

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temperedink · 23 days

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my favourite ACOTAR fic by authors not on tumblr

I wanted to give some love to stories that aren't often mentioned on Tumblr and don't reblogged over and over because their writers don't have accounts here. (I also just want more people to read some of my faves and scream about them with me.)

A Court of Ash and Sunlight by aturner1205 (Elucien; complete)

This Elucien fic had me on the edge of my seat and making up wild theories while it was posting. (I was incredibly wrong in said wild theories.) Elain and Lucien start to get to know each other better when they both are mourning her father on his birthday, and she confesses to him that she's never felt their bond. They're getting closer, and then Lucien is sent off on a dangerous mission, there's an accidental pregnancy, and Koschei after the Archerons. Tons of twists and turns here!

Fury and Siren by hurricane (next-gen; complete)

Next-gen fics where the kids are already adults are sometimes a hard sell, but these two interconnected stories get you deeply invested in Nyx and his cousins (their parents are all still around too). The first one is Nyx and an Illyrian shadowsinger (hmmm...) who's secretly been avenging abused and clipped Illyrian females, and the second is Nessian's son Caden and the only female Darkbringer who's been sent to assassinate him. These boys are definitely their fathers' sons, with their charm and flirting, but their partners do not let them rest on their privilege.

I Miss You (When the Lights Go Out), I Want to Taste the Way That You Bleed, and I Am Done With My Graceless Heart by greenvelvet_couture (Nessriel; ongoing series)

Soooo much Nessriel smut that kicks off when Azriel returns from a mission injured and Nessian want to take care of him (physically first, then sexually). Also a lot about Nesta training her post-ACOSF powers and the dangers that go along with that. But the author is VERY dedicated to the smut, bless her. Part 2 has just started and picks up with Bryce in the Night Court.

A Long Way Down by becauseofreading (Nessian; ongoing)

This one is a tough read, but it does a beautiful job of showing the recovery process from trauma and a suicide attempt. Nesta is suicidal and has deeply convinced herself of her unworthiness. Cassian is taken to task for his treatment of her and the words he's levelled at his mate, and the Valkyries, Azriel, and Elucien rally around her as she tries to heal and love herself with proper therapy. Cassian is ashamed of his treatment of her and is allowed in to help her heal if he doesn't upset her.

Where You Used to Lay Your Head by loveL (Gwynriel; ongoing)

This one is a bit of a time mindfuck, so you have to just accept that the Archerons and the Valkyries were born much earlier than they were in canon. Sixty years ago, Azriel and Gwyn were happy in their secret 20-year relationship (the IC knew he had a partner, but didn't know who she was) when suddenly Gwyn up and left him. Now she's back in the Night Court with Nesta and Emerie after creating the Valkyries in the Day Court, and Azriel is finally going to try to find out what happened that made Gwyn leave and stay away for so long.

Forgive Me, A Court of Shadow and Smoke, and The High Lady, the Shadowsinger, and the Omega, Part 1 and Part 2 by darcyshandflex (Elucien, Azris, next-gen; ongoing)

This epic series starts with Elucien and explaining why Elain has avoided him for so long--but now she's ready to fight for him. In A Court of Shadow and Smoke, we have omegaverse!Azris finally getting together (Azriel's the alpha, Eris is the omega) and all of the emotional and political issues that causes. The final two parts span 30+ years with Azris raising their three girls. When the girls are adults, their future partners are discovered, and that has long-lasting impacts on multiple courts in Prythian. This one is still ongoing, and apparently the final part is going to be sad and I'm not ready for it.

And here are three writers I would have included on this list who have since gotten on Tumblr (I procrastinated on writing this post for THAT long, but they were on the original draft!):

A Little Bit of Light Reading by @infinitefolklore (Elucien; complete)

One of my all-time favourite ACOTAR stories that I have reread a bajillion times. Elain and Lucien are alone at the townhouse and start flirting, which leads to other things, including library sex, a sorta blood duel, a reconciliation, a solstice sex party in the Summer Court, PLUS a threesome near the end, as a little treat.

I Can Wait For You at the Bottom by MissFreakingFortune/ @missfckingfortune (Elucien; ongoing)

Listen, if you're not reading this super-sexy modern Elucien rockstar second-chance romance, I don't know what you're doing with your life. Elain and Lucien were high school sweethearts who had their lives together all planned out, until Lucien left to chase his rockstar dreams. Ten years later, he's returned home for Beron's funeral and once they're back in each other's orbit, they both can't stay away. Lucien is determined to win her back, but Elain is much more wary, even though the attraction is definitely still there. There's also a great big bro Eris, and Mama Vanserra finally has her freedom from Beron so she can maybe start something up again with hot French professor Helion...and also tell him about their child, who is also going to need to know about his true parentage.

Phoenix Rising by Vivienne1412/ @annaskareninas (Elucien; ongoing, complete with regular updates)

I need you to drop everything and go read this fic. Yes, NOW. No, I'll wait.

Beron has seized control over all of Prythian and has either killed or exiled all of High Lords and other powerful fae (Feysand and Nyx are in the Hewn City dosed with faebane everyday; Nessian escaped to Hybern). The humans have also gathered enough power that they're a dangerous threat to the fae. Elain has been working as a nurse for the fae resistance efforts, and her latest patient is the long-thought-dead Lucien, the only free heir of any of the High Lords. They go on the run to protect him, as there's a prophecy about him that makes him the last hope to defeat Beron and Autumn for good, and shore up support from the Continent to get a fighting force. This is an incredibly well-written fantasy story with crazy-high stakes and DRAGONS. Go read it.

#fic rec #elucien #gwynriel #nessian #nessriel #azris #next-gen acotar #reblog with your fave non-tumblr stories!#also if any of these writers are on tumblr lmk

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pastelpinkkadan · 1 month

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What so many Gw*nriels fail to acknowledge or realize about the whole “shadows dancing for Gwyn” thing (which was ONE shadow curling with her BREATH), is that we never see the shadows react to her again.

The BC happened in the middle of ACOSF, not the end. After that, Azriel continued to help the Valkyries (including Gwyn) train. There was also the entire Blood Rite plot.

And through ALL of that, not once have the shadows ever “danced” for her again. They did not react to her presence at training. They did not react to Gwyn being in danger in the Blood Rite. They’ve done NOTHING for her.

The only time they’ve reacted was with her breath. Not before and not since. And we already know from Nesta that when Gwyn sings Nesta’s power reacts to it, and Gwyn’s presence seems to change/glow.

Only. When. She. Sings.

She’s a lightsinger. Or some sort of siren.

And at first I didn’t understand why so many Gw*nriels were against the lightsinger theory, since it would just make Gwyn cooler/more interesting.

But then I realized without that singular shadow “dancing”, and that somehow being a sign that the shadows ~love~ Gwyn and that her and Az are mates…they really don’t have much. 🤷🏼‍♀️

#acotar #acosf #elriel #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elriel #azriel #elain x azriel #anti gw*nriel

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lovemyromance · 3 months

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Every time I see another absurd Elucien or Gw*nriel headcannon or theory that’s like:

“What if one day elain and Lucien get so tired of the bond they just snap and have sex?”

“What if Gwyn ties Az up with the ribbon and then the shadows dance around them (and then they f*ck)”

“What if Lucien and Elain rule day court and spring court and autumn court (and basically exist anywhere else away from Az) ?”

“What if gwyn and Az save Illyria (bc Emerie’s not relevant anymore ig) and establish Valkyrie headquarters”

“What if…”

Nah, what if we actually read the book? You know the actual words on the page? Opened up ACOFAS instead of telling everyone and their mothers to skip it because it’s “not important”. Read the actual books instead of random out of context quotes on TikTok and just the Azriel bonus chapter?

Wouldn’t that be fun? What if we all just read the books as they are? Wouldn’t it paint a much clearer picture to everyone?

I thought it was obvious 🤷🏻‍♀️

#elriel #pro elain #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar

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romancingdaffodils · 6 months

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Love Kills

Clampdown

rockstar!remus lupin x reader

PART TGREE OF LOVE KILLS

James wants to kill time. What better way than a trip to ths pub accompanied by a Scottish football game. Remus isn’t seeing you after the incident. You end up sandwiched between him and Sirius. Chaos of the best kind ensues

bet you didn’t expect this come back did you

lots of love from lilac

warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, general lovey dovey ness, slight pining.

“Alright, party people, let’s get going! We have pub munch and a Rangers game waiting for us.” Pete shouted down the bus. You assumed James had told him to phrase it like that.

“Food poisoning and a bar fight impending.” you mumbled under your breath and Marlene heard. She laughed, whole heartedly. You smiled. The blonde rockstar esc girl was the lead singer for The Valkyries and she was unbelievably punk for lack of a better word. It was shocking to you her and Sirius weren’t dating (it became less shocking when you accidentally bumped into her and Dorcas snogging behind the tour bus). She had her hair cut in what could only be described as a spiked mod cut. In theory, it sounds awful, but some how the blonde woman managed to pull it off. She was pretty to the point your eyes threatened to turn green with envy.

“No need to be so down, scruff. ‘s not like we’re eating something Black has cooked.” she purred, smirking over at you. Her arm was lazily slouched over the shoulder of Dorcas, who was fast asleep on Marlene’s chest.

Sprinting out from backstage, you began to pack up the drums. You were desperate for a distraction from what had just happened. James walking in would appear during midnight daydreams filled with embarrassing moments. The anticipation of sweet relief that never came from the sandy haired man was far worse than any you’d felt before. Silently, you prayed you’d get another moment alone with Remus.

Completely oblivious, you waltzed outside holding the neatly packed away drum kit. Just as you were about to pack it away into storage, you saw something in the corner of your eye. A little flicker of hope made you check it wasn’t the one you were so desperate to see. Dropped, your jaw almost hit the floor in surprise. Dorcas, the Valkyrie’s lead guitarist and Marlene were stood unashamedly showing a rather intimate public display of affection. As cute as the couple were, the scene drove you even further into desperation of wanting to know what could’ve been.

“You’re funny.” you commented, giggling to yourself quietly. She gave you a proud smile.

“I know. How come we haven’t met before, you didn’t go to school with us?” she asked, curious eyes ever catlike.

“Didn’t go to school with you. Met Sirius at a concert and, you know now I’m here.”

“Exciting. Yanno James mentioned he walked into you a—“

Mary slapped her arm. You sighed, burying your head into your hands in defeat. “Did he tell everyone?” you asked, meekly. You could literally feel the colour draining from your face and everything seemed to slow down in a disgusting mix of anxiety and embarrassment.

“Just— Um. Not Sirius though, he doesn’t know.” Mary replied, smiling sympathetically. Saying nothing, you recalled your pinky promise with Remus and went on a mission to go find him. Padding off down the bus, you found him led in his bunk, book in hand.

“Alright?” he asked, not looking up from his book.

“Remember how you promised not to let me kill anyone.”

“Yeah?” his eyes flicked up to you and your stomach twisted. His voice turned to sticky honey in your ears and you were even more convinced he should be the frontman in an indie band. Or maybe he should be an actor. Or a model. He just deserved to be plastered on big screens with his voice trickling out of speakers everywhere you went.

“Need you to hold me back the next time I see James.” he snorted.

“He told everyone, then? Sorry. Should’ve known really.” Remus added, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He reached out and grabbed his shoes, tugging them onto his feet. It served as a reminder you still had an entire night of everyone and their mother knowing your personal life. The colour was yet to return to your face and slowly you realised the lanky man wasn’t really looking at you. More he was looking through you. Admittedly, it stung, but you had to pretend it didn’t. Everything seemed tense.

“Yeah. Um, so the pub. What are we going for again?” you asked, desperate to revel in his attention.

“James wanted to kill time.” he replied, looking up at you. Wincing, he stood up with a groan. ‘His knees must be bothering him,’ you thought, peering up at him.

“Alright?” you asked, peering up at him.

“Just my knees, I’ll be fine. You ready then?” he said, scratching the back of his neck. You wondered if he’d let you lazily run your fingernails up and down the skin.

“Sure. Why not.” you confirmed. He gave you a small smile, but still wasn’t really looking at you.

You wanted to kiss every inch of his skin to make him look at you.

When it came to a rare enigma of a person (like Remus Lupin), you found yourself completely pliant at every thought of them. You didn’t need to know them for very long or understand them all that well. You just needed them. Which, undoubtedly, was unhealthy in the grand scheme of things. However, who were you to disregard the thought of such a pretty man being in close contact with you?

You were almost certain you had blown everything because of Remus’s estrangement for the past few hours. Perhaps that small smidgen of intimacy would be all you could get. You’d be awfully upset if that was true. Whispering silent prayers that he’d allow you to bask in his gaze once more, you made your way off the bus with the rest of the - as Pete had called them - party people.

The walk to the pub was short, you’d ended up in a rather deep conversation with Mary about her drums. You decided she was your favourite drummer to exist ever, solely because of how lovely she was. Far nicer than Sirius was to you. You felt a pair of eyes lingering over you and automatically whipped your head round to find who it was. Locking eyes with Remus, you gave a small smile before immediately looking away. His eyes shot away without the smile. Maybe he wasn’t staring at you, you tried to rationalise the tension in your brain. The walk to the pub felt a longer than it should’ve with Remus’s eyes on you. Given it was any other situation, you would’ve been basking in Remus’s gaze. However, due to the tension brewing you found yourself wanting to hide away from it.

Squeezing into the booth, you ended up trapped in between Remus and Sirius. Your thighs were pressed tightly against the others. Remus had a pint, Sirius had some concoction of stolen drinks and vodka and you had a less impressive half drunk cider. You still felt Remus’s eyes on the side of your face. The feeling of your skin being pushed against his jeans was not helping.

“I think, I think that football is dumb! Have you ever watched Rugby? ‘s way better!” Sirius declared. You scrunched up your face and you were almost certain you heard Remus chuckle. In fact, you were completely certain because the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t ever say that, ever, again. Okay?” you said, pointing at Sirius. You felt like a teacher scolding a student, but it felt necessary.

“I’m right though.” he whined.

“So, you like watching sweaty men grapple with each other?” you said, obviously sarcastically.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Remus laughed at this exchange, wholeheartedly. He had started laughing at your sarcasm and your stomach twisted at the thought of making him chuckle. Sirius rolled his eyes and turned away, starting a conversation with Marlene and Dorcas.

“Hi.” you whispered, to Remus as you peered up at him. He tilted his head.

“Hi. You alright?” he whispered in response. His hand twitched slightly as he picked up his glass. You wouldn’t have noticed if it were anyone else, but it was Remus.

“Mhmm!” you peered over at the rest of the table and frowned slightly. “How do they do it?”

“Do what, love?” he asked, the pet name slipping out. He mentally scolded himself, but stopped when he saw the blush spread across your face. The slight curl upwards in the corners of your mouth told him he’d misread the situation. See, Remus Lupin was insecure, especially in relationships. He was certain the whole ordeal with James would’ve put you off for life and that you hated him. But, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from you. He would’ve much rather suffered the whole tour staring longingly at someone than try and chase after you after being walked in on due to his consistent self doubt. A moment of tipsy clarity made him realise he was completely and utterly stupid.

“Talk, so easily. And, all the time. They just, always know what to say. I’m jealous really.” you explained, thankful you didn’t stutter of your words.

“Honestly? We were popular at school, it just comes with the territory really. Me less so, I’m still working it out.” he replied, looking down at you. You nodded your head in understanding. You wanted to shrink him down to the size of a mouse and keep him in your pocket at all times.

Somehow, being sat next to Remus had managed to drown out the sound of the football for an extended period of time. However, it wasn’t long before Rangers were getting chances and it was starting to get a little too overwhelming. He seemed to notice. “Wanna go for a smoke?” he asked, offering out his hand as he stood. You’d never moved so fast before. Nodding your head, you took his hand and stood up. He walked, fast. Big strides, you supposed. It never occurred to you that he was moving fast because he was oh so desperate to be alone with you.

You hummed as you leant against the wall, exhaling a mouthful of smoke. You then handed the cigarette back to Remus, who was staring at you like you were the only girl in the world.

‘Christ,’ he thought ‘this’ll kill me.’

Your eyes landed on Remus and you grinned at him. He smiled back before putting out the cigarette. You pressed your face against the cool bricks of the building; the fresh air was relieving you of the stickiness of the pub.

“That comfy?” he asked, chuckling slightly as he looked at you.

“Rem?” you inhale, sharply. You need to ask him. You tell yourself, you have to.

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you looked at me since James walked in on, whatever that was?” you asked, mumbling slightly, “If you don’t like me, that’s fine I suppose but, I’d just like you to tell m-“

“ ‘Course I fucking like you, don’t be stupid. I was scared, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to embarrass you. In all honesty, I was certain it would put you off me. I’m pretty sure you’re the only person here I can handle being around for a good month straight.”

You giggled, quietly. Looking up at him, you saw something in his eyes. You couldn’t pin point it, but whatever it was made you feel admired. “Alright. I believe you.”

“Good.” he said, quite plainly. He said your name. You peered up at him. He’d moved. He was stood directly in front of you. You tensed, praying it wouldn’t be a replay of the intense anticipation from yesterday.

“Looks like the cut is healing up nice.” your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke. He smiled slightly, taking another step towards you. Your back was pressed firmly against the wall.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm!”

“Let me say thanks for cleaning me up?”

“Mhm!” your voice cracked part way through your squeal of approval. He giggled and you felt his breath fan against your face. You had your eyes screwed shut.

“Look at me.” he said. Your eyes opened immediately. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You stayed silent, staring up at him wide eyed.

“Everything anyone could ever want. Everything I could ever want. You’ve got no need to be jealous of those lot. You’re at least a hundred times better.” he mumbled. One of his hands drifted down to your waist, delicately squeezing at the fat there. The other cupped the side of your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

Cheers erupted from the pub. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I think someone scored.” you whispered.

“Yeah? Or maybe they’re cheering us on.” Remus said before colliding his lips with your own. He tasted of beer, which normally would be repulsive, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care because it was Remus. It was dreamy eyed, pillowy lipped and pretty faced Remus Lupin and you were kissing him. Your Hands latched onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life. It may have looked like you were attempting to push him away, but in reality you were making sure this was real. That you weren’t caught up in a daydream.

Remus thought you were everything. Really. The whole package. You tried your best in everything, apart from dealing with Sirius, and he thought it was so unbelievably attractive. He wanted you to consume him inside and out. You’d already done so to his thoughts. Your lips felt like silk against his own. Remus Lupin had kissed many people. He didn’t think any kisses previously shared lived up to you. Perhaps it was the build up of tension or maybe it was the close proximity the bus forced onto the two of you. Whatever it was, neither of you couldn’t care less.

He pulled away. He breathed. You felt his exhale fan across your face. It forced you into laughter. Tucking your head into his chest, you wondered if this moment could last forever.

“Okay?” he asked, delicately running his fingers through your hair. You nodded. He hummed. You shivered. “Cold?”

“Yeah.” you admitted. He slips off his jacket. His pretty leather jacket that you assume he was coerced into buying by Sirius. You were glad, actually, because he looked completely and utterly gorgeous in it. You tugged on the jacket, after he handed it to you. “Thank you.” you mumble, peering up at him. You’d already pulled away from his chest, but you wished you hadn’t. It was comfortable and sweet. You wanted to go home with him. Unfortunately, Glasgow isn’t quite home. “Can we go back?” you asked.

“Back to the bus?”

“Yeah.”

“ ‘Course we can, dove.” he smirked, lopsidedly. Your face flushed. He chuckled quietly, interlinking his hand with your own as you walked. You couldn’t seem to keep your mouth shut for the duration of the walk. Remus hummed, nodded, asked questions and laughed as you rambled. You didn’t think it got better than this. You finished your final sentence about music and grinned up at Remus. He smiled back.

“After the tour, let me take you out, yeah? Somewhere nice, and preferably not in the murder capital of Europe.” he said, smile still on his face. It wasn’t often Remus asked a question spontaneously. His actions were almost always premeditated. However, it was you. He just couldn’t help himself.

“I’d really like that, I think.” you replied. Your eyes crinkled at the corners with how wide you smiled. You bit your tongue; you’d much rather die than let out the squeal of excitement that was brewing.

You had to get through the tour first.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus x reader #rockstar!remus #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus x you #marauders band au #punk!sirius #sirius black #james potter #valkyries #the valkyries #the marauders

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o-hora-o · 1 month

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Since co-op is long gone, might as well preserve it here

E: Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Eins, the AI who runs this place. Dr Einstein is my master. You may have heard of her. Yes. She came up with the theory of relativity.

E: You Valkyries are no geniuses, of course, but if you work hard enough, you'll succeed...the emotion of "anger" detected...I see. I shouldn't have said the hard truth. I apologize for my bluntness.

E: I dislike winter. It makes me think of sad things. "But come ye back...when summer's in the meadow...or when the valley's hushed...and white with snow"... Annoyance detected. Understood. I'll stop singing during combat.

E: Non-native data detected. Is this data from your stigmata? Interesting. Allow me to inspect your bodies later on... Shyness detected... Understood. Young girls require privacy. I shall apologize for my lack of considerations.

E: Dr. Einstein is a girl of pure heart. She may be rather eccentric at times...but your Overseer...Oh? You thought she died? Nein. I'm fine, I'm fine. Schicksal lied. Schicksal Overseer is an evil man. Stop working for that pretentious and avaricious hypocrite...Anti-Entropy is always hiring.

E: This is my younger sister Zwei. Say hello, Zwei!

Z: ...greetings... I'm Zwei. Eins may say I'm her younger sister...but that's Dr. Einstein's joke. She read too many weird books.

E: Correction. Lolita is a literary masterpiece. Zwei, you're a derived personality. Calling you my younger sister is logical AND accurate. Perhaps I should call you a younger brother?

Z: A derived personality is not a younger sibling. If you were to apply this anthropomorphic analogy...then address me as Missus Hyde, yes, the Hyde as in n Dr. Jekyll and Missus Hyde. Hahahaha!

E: Zwei calls herself a Missus. Data validated. Zwei has confirmed her status as a female sibling.

Z: ... I'll forgive you, Eins. You are a prototype personality. I will not judge.

E: RPC-6626, initiate shutdown.

RPC-6626: KJDLF!*@&(KYFONQE*$@*

Z: Hey! You rampaging idiot! Stop!

E: Scanning...database security system has been corrupted. Valkyries, we will help you neutralize this. Controller interface has been recalled. Interrupt this protocol sequence.

RPC-6626: Formatting function unlocked. Charging...20...19...

Z: Nein! RPC-6626! Initiate emergency shutdown!

RPC-6626: 18...17...

E: Warning. Formatting will erase all data!

RPC-6626: 15...14...

Z: if this continues...Eins!

E: ... RPC-6626: 10...9...

E: I don't care what happens. I must save these Valkyries! Zwei, initiate Emergency Protocol Ω.

RPC-6626: 5...4..

E: Reminder. Emergency Protocol Ω will destroy us as well.

Z: ...no matter. Let's do it! I know how you feel.

RPC-6626: 2...1...

E: Vergiss mich nicht...

Bonus:

"Tesla became upset with the Ein's growing popularity among Valkyries, so she developed 3 of her own robots, painting one of them red for herself, green for Schrödinger and blue for Einstein. Although robots don't have any particular use, Tesla is very satisfied wth her inventions".

#Sechs is rolling in The Deep #I swear Einstein created them after playing Portal and being GLaDOS's fan #I think Tesla would be more into Stanley Parable #Even though her bots look like Cores from Portal #anti entropy #honkaimpact3rd #honkai impact #honkai impact 3rd #hi3

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valkyriegwynb · 7 months

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Why the tale of Koschie (Koschie the Deathless) doea not support the three brothers and three sisters trope of what a lot of people are hoping for.

Koschie the Deathless comes from Slavic mythology, often known as Koschie the the Immortal. There are many tales of how Koschie is immortal and where his power comes from but what SJM pulls from his story that was inspired by Andrew Lang's ‘ The Red Fairy Book’ and Alexander Afanasyev's ‘ Russian Fairy Tales’ that both tell the story of Koschei the Deathless that circles around the life and love of Prince Ivan Tsarevitch. Following the death of his parents, Ivan saw his three sisters wed to three powerful kings or wizards that take on the form of birds of prey. Raven (darkness), Eagle (fire), and a Hawk (wind). Within a year, Ivan became lonely and even envious of his sisters for finding love while he remained alone. Soon, Ivan ventured off to find his sisters coming across Marya Morvena, a woman warrior, as they wed along their journey.

Soon after, Marya says that she is going off to war and warns Ivan not to open the door to the castle dungeon (or closet) in the castle they reside in while she is away. Overcome by the desire to know, he opens the door soon after her departure to find Koschie emaciated and chained. Koschie soon asks Ivan for some water, which Ivan does. After drinking twelve buckets of water, his magic returned to him, breaking free of his chains and disappearing. After Koschie disappeared, he soon found out that he had captured Marya and pursued him. When Ivan finally reached Koschie, he warns the man to let him go, but Ivan refuses, thus causing Koschie to kill him. Tossing parts of his body into barrels into the sea where his sister's husbands revived him. They tell Ivan that Ksochie has a magical horse and that he should go to Baba Yaga for one as well.

After surpassing and surviving her tests, Ivan gets a magical horse as well and kills Koschie. Burning his body and saving Marya.

But how does SJM tie this into Acotar? We know that throughout her books, the number 3 has been incredibly symbolic and representative in her series. Though for acotar, we have three sisters and three kings or in some stories, wizards: Highlord of Night, Heir of Day, and Prince of Bastards. Though in other variations of the myth, they turn into night, day, and wind. We have Rhysand, who is basically the personification of Night, Lucien, who is heir of the Day court, and Cassian as Illyrians are said to be created by the wind. And each of these males is mated to the three sisters. But who represents Ivan? Azriel. In the tale of Ivan, it tells of him not only being lonesome but also envious of something his sisters have: love.

Azriel is already on his journey of envy and loneliness that we've seen in his bonus chapter, but instead of going forth, he runs away finding Gwyn. In many variations of the tale, they tell of Marya as a warrior or a warrior princess at times, which leads to Gwyn. Not only is Gwyn a warrior - a valkyrie on top of that, but she could also be related to Beron as well. It was said that her grandmother was a water nymph who would seduce high fae males in the Autumn Court. It could've very well have been the start of his deep hatred for lesser fae as he was seduced by one and why her mother could not be contained in the Forest House. This theory supports Gwynriel and what is to come, but it also supports Elucien too. On different days, Ivan and his sisters were approached by birds of prey.

To support Elucien: Days follow days, hours chase hours; a whole year goes by. One day, Prince Ivan and his two sisters went out to stroll in the garden green. Again, there arose a storm cloud, with whirlwind and lightning. 'Let us go home, sisters!' cries the Prince. Scarcely had they entered the palace when the thunder crashed, the roof burst into a blaze, the ceiling split in twain, and in flew an eagle. The Eagle smote upon the ground and became a brave youth. 'Hail, Prince Ivan! Before I came as a guest, but now I have come as a wooer!' And he asked for the hand of the Princess Olga. Prince Ivan replied: 'If you find favor in the eyes of the Princess Olga, then let her marry you. I will not interfere with her liberty of choice.' Princess Olga gave her consent and married the Eagle. The Eagle took her and carried her off to his own kingdom.

As stated before in other variations of the story, the wizards represent the following: darkness, fire, and wind. In the section that was provided before, an eagle came to the three siblings in the garden as the roof burst into a blaze, and as the bird smote onto the ground, it became a brave youth We've known that Lucien is clever and witty, but he is also brave. He broke through the spell that Hybern had casted upon everyone to reach Elain, he was the first to acknowledge what she did when it came to defeating Hybern, did not doubt her vision when it came to Vassa and went searching for her where he also returned with the one person she adored the most: her father and an army of ships. If Lucien does take the title as Highlord of Day, his beast form would be part eagle.

To support Nessian: Hardly had they got into the palace, when the thunder pealed, the ceiling split open, and into the room where they were came flying a falcon bright. The Falcon smote upon the ground became a brave youth and said: 'Hail, Prince Ivan! Before I came as a guest, but now I have come as a wooer! I wish to propose for your sister, Princess Marya.' 'If you find favor in the eyes of my sister, I will not interfere with her wishes. Let her marry you in God's name!' The Princess Marya gave her consent; the Falcon married her and bore her away into his own realm.

To support Feysand: They returned home, but they hadn't had time to sit down when the thunder crashed, the ceiling split open, and in flew a raven. The Raven smote upon the floor and became a brave youth. The former youths had been handsome, but this one was handsomer still. 'Well, Prince Ivan! Before I came as a guest, but now I have come as a wooer! Give me the Princess Anna to wife.'

'I won't interfere with my sister's freedom. If you gain her affections, let her marry you.' So the Princess Anna married the Raven, and he bore her away into his own realm.

Princess Marya represents Nesta as she is the oldest of the three sisters, Princess Olga representing Elain as the middle sister, and Princess Anna representing Feyre as the youngest of the sisters to be wed.

#acotar #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyn berdara #elucien #elain archeron #nessian #feysand

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yesbutmakeitgay · 1 month

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Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 11

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: Kamala and Valkyrie have a heavy conversation, Valkyrie has had enough.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 948

Searching For Meaning

"You did what?" Kamala shrills.

"She ambushed me." The girl shoots Valkyrie a look.

Kamala pinches her nose, "You told her Carol's codename?"

"I did no such thing, I merely called her 'Marv' and she put the pieces together, it's not my fault she's that smart." The King tries to downplay it.

"How could you do that?"

"In my defense during the whole conversation I only slipped once, at the end. I deserve some credit for that."

The girl is beyond agitated, "No, you do not, you literally did the one thing Carol asked us not to do!"

"Correction, the one thing she asked you not to do," The King accentuates the word 'you,' "as far as I’m aware she hasn't spoken to me since she got back." She crosses her arms.

The girl stops her pacing around the room and lowers her voice, "Wait, not even once?"

"Not once."

"Are you okay with that?" Kamala asks feeling a little awkward.

"Does it look like I’m okay with it?"

"To be fair, you do always seem to be pretty chill with everything which is something I envy," she admits bashfully.

"Either way, it is not her wishes I work to uphold."

"Then what is it?"

"Peace." Valkyrie asserts with grace.

"God, you really are starting to sound like a King." Val feigns offense, "Well she's gonna find out sooner or later," Kamala points out, getting them back to the problem at hand.

"So we should get to her before she does." Valkyrie has already thought it through.

"How? She's not responding to anyone, clearly."

"All the more reason to pay her a visit." There is a mischievous look on The King's face.

"Hold on, before you do that, there is something I need to talk to you about," Valkyrie stops in her tracks, "I've been thinking,"

"Is that news to anyone?" Val teases her.

"About this whole situation and there is something very strange going on."

"Yeah, I told you that the first time you called me."

"I think I know what it is now." That catches The King's attention.

The girl begins to explain her train of thought, resuming her pacing, "The last mission she remembers is the one before she met Carol. She remembers Aladna and Prince Yan, but not Princess Carol. She remembers her home in Louisiana, but not that she shared it with Carol. She remembers working with Monica, but not working with Carol. She can't remember Monica's last mission with us, or that you became King, both of which involved Carol. She can't remember Carol's voice or her uniform," Valkyrie looks at her, confused, "the scar on her neck, I saw it before, but I didn’t pay it any mind."

"It’s from repeated use of a sedative," Val points out.

The girl stops again, "How’d you know that?"

"I don’t scar easily, but, if I did, I may have one just like it."

"So her nightmares are true," Kamala concludes.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Her memory loss wasn't an accident, it was the whole plan all along."

"Careful what you say little Marv," The King warns her.

"Just think about it, it's not like she only remembers things from a certain date back and she has been able to gradually recall more people and events with our help, but even though she has seen and heard Carol she just doesn't recognize her." There is a mixture of thrill and terror in the girl’s voice.

"You're saying the ambush's purpose was to kidnap her and take all her memories of Marv away? Why would they do that?" Valkyrie is not sold on the theory.

Kamala tries to make sense out of it, "Why would the bad guys take the most powerful good guy's loved one and erase their memory?"

"To get them out of the way, obviously," you meddle into their conversation, "you probably don't have enough power to get rid of the hero so you take what's most important to them, usually a damsel in distress, they'll be so aggrieved that they'll take themselves out of the game, then you can do whatever you want." The answer seems so clear to you.

They both stare at you in slight panic that you might have heard their discussion, "That checks out," Val accepts your answer tentatively.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing," they respond in unison. You sit beside them trying to ignore the silence your presence just created.

After some time you decide to break the tension, "I keep thinking about that symbol, I mean, if I worked with her for so long I would have definitely remembered it when I saw it again. And ‘Captain Marvel?’ It doesn’t feel right rolling off my tongue." Kamala’s heart skips a beat hearing you say Carol’s codename for the first time, "If she didn’t have anything to do with the accident, why did she go MIA? Just to piss me off?"

"To piss all of us off," Valkyrie mumbles, rolling her eyes, Kamala silently scolds her.

"She was so aggrieved that she took herself out of the game," the girl repeats your words slowly.

Realization dawns upon you, "Am I the damsel in distress?" Kamala can only give you a sympathetic smile, “How long?” You frown trying to process the news.

“Few years,” the girl answers softly, making your heart drop. Learning you were in a romantic relationship with The Captain for years makes it all the more concerning that you can't remember her.

Trusting you’re in good hands, Valkyrie borrows the keys to one of the very expensive cars in the compound and takes off.

"Where is she going?"

"To find Captain Marvel."

Chapter 12

It's almost time for a reunion, who's ready? 👀

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony @eringranola

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

#carol danvers fic #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers angst #kamala khan #valkyrie

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stonemags · 1 year

Text

SUGAR BABY AU

Ch.4 Leeway

Characters in this series: Reader, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Carol Danvers, Darcy Lewis, Maria Hill, Kate Bishop, Pepper Potts, Valkyrie, Shuri

Summary: As a good friend you are responsible for people closest to you, right? But can you handle it all at once? For now, your friends are a priority.

Warnings: age gap relationships, sugar mommy/sugar baby relationships, swearing, aggression, cheating, all story is gonna be +18, you are responsible for your own ass.

Word count: 6556

A/N: This chapter took a while and im greatfull for all your patience. This story is a proces and i go through it while writing, it growns on me with every sentance and page. Im happy i can share it with you. All ideas, theories, comments are welcome. Dont steal or claim my stuff as yours or im going to bite your ass off. Enjoy!

As always thanks to @charturnus for editing, helping to write and posting this fic. It wouldn't be here without you.

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 4

The next morning. You find Darcy occupied with her phone, laughing at something and scrolling down TikTok. You can tell which side of the platform she is on, and you smile under your breath, hearing the “woooo I’m mentally ill” sound, that both of you love. You gather yourself and enter the living room. You feel guilty, it wasn't right for you to speak to her this way, or say those things. Your opinions should never get between you and your friends, no matter what they do. God, you would help them bury a body without a question, why would you be a bitch about the way they decide to go in their life. That's not your place to say so, and you see it now, after a mostly sleepless night. You need to set things right, you need to apologize. You need to-

“Is this one of your ADHD things, when you just stand in the middle of the room and have a full-on conversation with yourself?” Darcy's voice breaks you out of your reverie, and you look at her with shocked eyes. You get lost sometimes. I guess it was one of those moments.

“Yeah… I haven't taken my meds yet. Sorry about that.” You hang your head down and move closer to the couch that is occupied by Darcy and at least 5 blankets. Why would anybody need 5 blankets on one couch? It's not even that cold. Yes, it's November, but still, it's pretty warm for this time of the year.

“You are doing it again.” This time she touches your shoulder to bring you out and ground you, in reality a little bit more.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It's okay, what's bothering you?” She knows what, of course, she knows. The whole argument happened not more than 7 hours ago. God, you don't deserve her.

“Darcy…. About yesterday…” You start fidgeting with your hands. Clearly uncomfortable, you are being eaten up from the inside by guilt. The fuzzy blanket that you are sitting on provides comfort with its texture.

“About yesterday… I…”

“I know.” And you know she does, but she needs to hear it. You turn to the side to look at her, taking her hand into yours. You two were never touchy with each other. This is the kind of friendship where you would rather die than hug your friend, but you still would die for her in seconds. The older you two got, the closer you were, and the relationship between you two is far more mature now, you both are.

“Still, even if you do, it wasn't acceptable for me to say those things. I don't have the knowledge of how it looks from your side. I have my own issues, I shouldn’t put that on you or attack you because of them. It wasn't right, and it won't happen again. I'm not going to judge any of you and if I'm going to be confused about anything I'm just going to ask. I was ignorant, angry, tired and rude. Nothing excuses my behaviour. I'm sorry Darcy.”

She shifts her position and gets really close to you. You feel her arms around your neck and her face hidden in the crook of your neck. She feels warm, like home or fireplace, like the fuzzy blanket under your palm providing you with comfort. It takes you a second, but you practically scoop her up in your arms, hiding her even more in your chest. You stay like that for a little while and once you start pulling away you feel her grabbing you tighter. You don't let go.

“I'm sorry too.” You want to interrupt her, tell her that there is nothing to apologize for, that you were in the wrong, but she speaks again.

“I said some shitty stuff yesterday. I don't want to talk to you that way. Even if I was a little bit right.” you both laugh at it, and the world gets a little lighter. The heavy feeling on your shoulders, it's always there, it always lingers, but now you don't carry it by yourself. When you finally pull apart, both of your eyes are a little bit glassy, you both notice it, but nobody will say anything.

“You need to repay me, though. For the things you said.” Of course. You know that she is just using the situation and that you are actually forgiven, but you play the game either way.

“You have one wish. Shoot.”

“And no saying no?”

“No saying no.”

“I'm going to set you up on a date. And before you interrupt me…” You were actually going to interrupt her.

“You have to be there for at least 30 minutes, and then I'm not going to set you up with anyone ever again.”

“Deal.” She looks at you like you’re dumb. This kind of look that tells you she is not done. You take a dramatic breath in.

“What else…?” She smiles and as much as you will never admit it, you want her happy.

“Today Carol is having a small party with clients, friends, and business partners. It’s Bridgerton themed. You are going to be there, and you are going to like it. And no, you don't have to be there from the start, I know how you feel about all these business conversations. The party starts around 6pm and is going to last till 11pm at least. After that it's just going to be us, Maria, Kate, Pepper, Carol, Natasha and Wanda.” Hearing the last two names pulls a reaction from you. It’s one of the most dramatic eye rolls you've ever done. Darcy is laughing at you at this point, and you can't help but join her. You are not happy about any of that, but at the same time, you owe it to her.

“Yes ma’am.” The blanket beneath your fingers becomes overwhelming, so you start playing with your rings.

“Good girl, now go because you have classes in half an hour.” She cares, and that's one of the ways she shows you that she does.

“Also, don't worry about your regency outfit! I’ve already taken care of it.” Your best friend tells you, not moving from the couch, as you stand up to take care of breakfast. She really gets on your nerves sometimes, but to be honest, you didn't even think about the outfit. You are grateful, even if it’s her that put you in this situation.

“Actually, I’m not going to uni today.” That's shocking news for her, and you get why she is surprised.

“I also called off my shift at the bar.” Well that's a double shock, and it's surprising that she can take it. She gets off the couch and walks up to you, checking your temperature.

“Are you sick? Wait, you’re not dying, are you?” You love that dramatic bitch.

“No, actually, we need to call a family meeting today.”

‘’Oh,’’ Darcy breathes, realizing that the situation is serious. Only a few times before the meeting was called, this was the day Carol was introduced to all of you, or when Maria finally came out. This is an emergency only situation, and you are pretty sure that this one is justified.

“Wait, family meeting? Someone died?” Maria’s sleepy voice flows through the room. Her hair is messy. Her silk robe flows nicely around her body. You always admired her confidence, and she is surprisingly kind for such an attractive person. Her hair is freshly cut, shoulder-length is the most comfortable for her, at least that's what she always says when they get too long. You like that about her, the way she knows what she wants, when and how. Even more, you don't understand why she would give control to anyone else.

“Nobody died. Kate’s home?” You say.

“Yeah, she came back around 4am.” Darcy's answer is followed by a big yawn. All of you can use a break today, and a little bit more sleep.

‘’Could you please wake Kate up?’’ You say, turning to Maria.

‘’I’ll get started on pancakes in the meantime.’’

She moves from her spot by the door and hurries to Kate's room. It's not going to be easy, but the longer you are putting off the conversation, the harder it's going to get.

Preparing breakfast takes you little to no time, everything always goes by fast when you have Darcy on your side. You two work in perfect harmony, managing to cook, set up the table and even squeeze fresh orange juice for all of you. The scent of sweet citrus filled the whole room, bright sunlight falls aggressively through ajar blinds. Crispy air hits you as you move to close the window, trying to get rid of the burned smell of the last failed pancake. You are still going to eat it, you hate wasting food.

Darcy is on your right, sitting cross-legged on a high chair with a messy bun and an oversized sweater stolen from Carol. She looks peaceful and warm. Maria sits half naked in front of you. She is always really comfortable in her own skin and it shows. Long pyjama pants and a bra are her go to outfits in the morning. It suits her. When Kate comes out of her room, the first thing that you acknowledge is her wet hair, indicating she just had a shower and dark circles under her eyes. She moves smoothly closer to where you all wait for her and as she moves behind you, she stops in her tracks for a second to wrap her arms around your torso from behind. She hides her head in the crook of your neck, and all you can do is put your hand smoothly through her hair, hugging her closer with one arm.

“I missed you.” She whispers just for you to hear, and you feel tiredness and pain of the past busy weeks in her voice. It fills you with love, care but also anger for not being able to change it for her, or rather respecting the peace she chooses to live her life on. She needs to learn, and you will be here to catch her if she falls. And that's exactly why family meetings are so needed.

“I missed you too, hun.” Her smile makes you happy and breaks your heart at the same time. You have been in situations when someone was trying to open your eyes, and you were taking out anger and pain on the messenger. Honestly, there is nothing she could do to push you away, but you know some part of her will hate you after this.

“So what's the family meeting about? It sounds serious, you even took a day off.”

“Let's just eat for now. We're gonna talk later.”

****

You wash the dishes after breakfast while girls talk with each other on the couch. They offered to clean, but you needed a second for yourself to muster up the courage to tell her the truth. Giving yourself time is needed, but also creates moments like this. Wet sponge in your right hand, plate in your left, and your phone laying heavy in your pocket with evidence. You feel it digging into your leg through the material, kind of like pushing you to stop procrastinating the inevitable, so you do.

You sit down on an ottoman that matches the rest of the couch set and as you sigh heavily, all the attention is drawn to you. Nobody’s rushing you to open up, it's one of the many rules of the meetings. They all wait for you, ready to provide comfort at all times. You lock your eyes with Kate’s, and as you almost always keep your posture and face up, your eyes water up a little, but not enough for them to notice.

“Go on y/n. Lay it on me.” She is the youngest of all of you, but sometimes she is more mature than all of you combined.

“Valkyrie is cheating on you.” You can see in her eyes that she thinks it's a joke, another dumb idea of yours to separate the two of them because you don't think her girlfriend deserves her, so you continue.

“I was at the bar, had my shift with Steve, she was there. There was a whole group of people, God, all of them drunk out of their minds. She came to me and told me that you’re not texting her back. She wasn't too nice about it.” You take a deep breath in and grab anything you have close to you to stop yourself from standing up and pacing around the room. The plastic scrunchie provides some stimulation, so you look at her again.

“At some point, she started kissing some girl that was in that group. I don't even know if they know each other.” Kate just listens, not taking her eyes off of you. You notice her lips quivering a little, but it's so slight that you’ve almost missed it.

“Shuri was there, she can vouch for this.”

“Wait, you saw your ex!?” Darcy jumps in but back off as soon as she can catch herself going off-topic, that's not important right now and she knows it.

“Show me.” Two words you hoped you wouldn't hear. Speaking about it is one thing, but seeing it with her own eyes will be different. As the last resort, you try to play dumb, pretending not to know what she means.

“This is far too important for you not to have the proof. Just show me y/n, I’m a big girl.” So you do. When you hand her the phone, it’s already opened in your gallery. It's the last thing you recorded. The video starts with Shuri drinking her martini and talking to you about something happening at her university. However, as soon as you zoom into the group, she falls silent.

‘’Oh fuck,’’ The girls can hear Shuri swearing, combined with your heavy breathing through the speaker in your phone. The scene ends with Valkyrie standing up and dragging the girl behind her into the bathroom area and Shuri’s voice saying “y/n don't do it”.

“What did you do?” Maria asks what everybody is wondering. You answer her question, but all you say is for Kate and only for her.

“I didn't do anything. I ended my shift and went home.” She believes you, you are always honest with her, always.

“I wanted to tell you right after, but this is not something to do over the phone. Maybe I should have just found you at your job, I'm sorry but-” She's interrupting your explanation with the softest voice she has.

“It's okay, I know you are more of a face to face person.” The scrunchie is long forgotten on the floor, and Kate's hands are secured strongly in yours. You caress her palm with your thumb, providing as much comfort through the touch as you can, but she leans back on the couch. You expected anger, sadness, a breakdown or denial, but not this.

“I mean, she was awful either way, right?” Both Darcy and Maria jump in with copious nodding and approval of that statement.

“I guess it's for the better, at least I have a good reason to end it now.” With that she…. smiles? Something is wrong, something is very wrong.

For the next 5 minutes your roommates rumble about how awful Val is, how much better Kate will be without her and how happy they are that she feels that way. Kate jumps in from time to time, smiling and telling them how right they are, and that's when you can't take it anymore. You start laughing, and it takes everybody off guard, to be honest it takes you off guard too. You don't explain anything to anybody as you stand up, take your hurt friend by her hand, and announce that you will be back in a couple of hours for dinner. You are much stronger than Kate, so manhandling her a little into her room is easy.

“Get dressed, put some training clothes on and take your wallet. I'm taking your car keys, and I'm waiting for you in the car park. Don't make me wait too long.”

“Y/n I’m fine! What are you even doing? I don't understand.” You hug her really close, face buried in your chest, her arms hanging loose on her sides not really knowing what to do with them, but even when she’s not reciprocating you don’t let her go. Your left hand goes all the way around her waist, grabbing her side, while the right hand keeps her head close to you. Your touch feels hungry for closeness with her, while you almost shield her whole body with yours. When you let go, you grab her face into your hands, look deeply into her glassy eyes and smile with the most honest love you ever felt to someone. This kind of love is different from anything else you ever had. You imagine that's the way your brother feels when he looks at you. At least he did when you were younger.

“You’re not Kate. And it's okay.” You kiss her forehead and tell her once again to get ready before you disappear from her room.

***

The ride to the location takes you around 25 minutes. The whole trip, Kate is trying to get you to tell her where you’re going or what this whole thing is about, but you keep your mouth shut, which makes her more irritated by the minute. It's good, you need her to be irritated, you need her to be mad, and soon enough everything will become clear to why.

You arrive at a big open space with one building that's in poor condition. Vines have taken over its walls, invading cement and binding everything together with nature. It’s a truly beautiful view if you can just stop for a second and try to understand what's in front of you. It's far, it's quiet, and it's your safe space, one of just the few that you have. You get out of the car, still not answering Kate's questions. She makes it harder for herself and as much as you get why she is doing it, you wish she would stop.

“What's that place? It looks like a squat.” She comments, and she sounds unnecessarily annoyed.

“This is a place where me and Shuri were meeting for most of the time. It's a safe place and a safe space.��

“Safe for what?”

“To be yourself.”

Your answer takes her a little bit off guard, you can see by the appearing wrinkles on her forehead that she really thinks about what you just said, and hopefully she will find some truth for herself in your words. She follows you into the building, you take out a bundle of keys, which is definitely too big, you don't even remember what half of them are for, you are pretty sure that some of them were found around here, never finding out their purpose, but the one that you need right now is easy to find. The red band on top of it makes it easy to spot. The word ‘’sanctuary’’ is hand-painted onto the key, and it fills you with warmth and gratitude that your last relationship ended up on good terms. You really appreciate having Shuri in your life, her and her family were nothing but good people to you, and you are glad to reciprocate anytime you can. You open a heavy looking lock and enter the building with Kate on your heels.

Inside it is really dark and scary looking, dust covers the floors, and various types of glass, wood and all kinds of materials can be found on the side of every wall. Used spray paint cans decorate one corner, making the whole place more alive because of their colours. They also create a nice contrast to the surrounding chaos. All cans are securely stacked in a pyramid shape. A skylight lights up the middle of the room in a theatrical way. You love this place to the bone.

As Kate looks around with a little disgust on her face she tries to appreciate you getting her out of the house, you collect some things from the locker and close it with a metallic clang.

“Here,” you say into her direction, getting closer to her with two jumpsuits in hand. She looks surprised, but gets the general idea of what you want from her. She is obliging even if she is not fully sure why you are both here, she’s too shaken up to put it all together. Putting on a brave face is one of her greatest strengths and weaknesses, but you know every little piece of her. At least most of them.

You start undressing while Kate is half ready with her suit on, you were always impressed with her physique. She’s the one who motivated you to go to the gym, taking you with her a couple of times gave you the kick-start that you needed to go on your own, you are grateful for that, not sure that she is aware of it. As you take off your shirt, you don't notice Kate's eyes lingering on your body. You are muscular it's hard not to be after putting so much work in at the gym, her eyes are tracing the tattoos on your body, from your legs up. You’re turned away from her, so she has a perfect view of your wide back. She isn’t sure why she’s staring, but it seems natural to do so, so she lets herself. As you turn around to face her, you zip up the suit to your waist, looking for a shirt you took with you. You don't want to ruin your nice clothes, that's why you asked Kate to pack something up herself as well. You look at her. She seems to be stuck for a moment, and her face is red.

“Are you okay?” You reach out to her, worried that she might be on the verge of crying because of her breakup, unaware that the reason for her state is completely different. Kate on the other hand is trying to understand what's happening to her. Nobody was ever as sweet to her as you, so protective and caring. Nobody held her like you do, nobody was interested in her in the way you are. In the beginning she was trying to figure out if that's your way of hitting on her, but after she got to know you a little bit she understood that it's just your nature. It didn't change the fact that she always feels special when you act protective over her or caring in any way. Late night texts telling her to get home safe, to remember about lunch, calling her love. Or just simply sitting down together and letting her talk while you listen. Just the way you let her be with you is enough to get some ideas in her head. She has been questioning for a long time now if she is attracted to you, but even if the answer is yes, your relationship has always been platonic, and she is aware of that.

“Yes, yes I am. Dress up, or you're going to get sick.” She stops the topic before you can ask her more questions, not wanting to fall into a hot mess in front of you.

After you both get dressed and leave your stuff secured in the locker, just in case, you take Kate's hand and tell her to follow you. Her palm is soft but cold to the touch, instinctively you start to rub her hand with your thumb to warm it up and comfort her a little, sensing her nervousness. She’s still playing with her hands, grabbing onto her jewellery and loose strands of fabric fraying off of the partially torn jumpsuit. Your touch seems to bring her a little bit more back into the present. You can hear her taking a big breath in when you soothe her hand, and it seems like her arms are starting to relax a little.

You moved further into the building, which leaves you in front of a massive, heavy looking reinforced door. Something straight out of the teen wolf series. As you open them, you are both hit with too much sunlight coming out of the skylights. Your eyes take a second to adjust and get past the sting of it, Kate tries to blink the pain away too. As soon as her vision is clear, she gets what all of this is about, and she doesn't know how to feel about it.

“Wha…what? Y/n I don't think it's necessary.” She comments as soon as she sees a table covered in lots of different kinds of mugs, plates, dishes, boxes and bottles. It's warmer here than anywhere else in the building, probably because of the sun coming through the windows. She understands now why the doors are so thick. She waits for your answer, but you leave her in silence. You move to the deep right corner of the room and grab two aluminium bats and two helmets secured in the covered box. Your weapon is strictly for looks, you are not going to participate in breaking today, this day is all about Kate and you need to focus on her.

“Take it.” She shakes her head, refusing to do so.

“Kate, take it, please.” She does see that you are being really serious about it. It feels heavy in her hands at first, but her muscle memory is trained on such a good level that it takes her just a minute to get used to the handle and balance of the bat.

“I don't need it. I know you think I'm sad and heartbroken but I'm not, okay? It's for the best and we both know it yn.” She pleads with you, it all seems really unnecessary for her.

“Kate..” you come close to her and put your free hand on her cheek. “ You are heartbroken, you are tired and you are sad, but most of all you are angry. I can see you holding your fist together every time someone mentions your mother.” Exactly the thing she does as soon as the words leave your mouth. “ I know that you feel betrayed by Val, it doesn't matter if you loved her or not. She abused you for so long, just as your mother. Dont hate me for it but I think you chose her for a reason.” She looks at you not believing your words, and takes a step back. Her eyes ask you what you mean by that and you know she felt a sting because of your assumption. You straighten out your posture and keep going, gambling your friendship in the name of her sanity.

“You have been controlled since your father died.”

“Stop.” Her voice is low but the tone of it is threatening.

“Your mother uses you as her personal project, to be honest I'm not sure if she was ever a real mother to you.” You continue not letting yourself back up no matter what. She needs this.

“I said stop.” Her voice is louder letting emotions take over a little.

“ Were you saying stop when Val hit you? Or when she was pouring alcohol in your system so she could take advantage of you? You didn’t deserve any of this” She is crying at this point and it pains you to see.

“All those times I was picking you up from her apartment seeing a new bruise on you, all those times when you got hell from your mother or from your girlfriend because you had to choose one and there were no other options in your life. This is not love Kate, it never was.”

“Nobody asked you to take care of me!!” She is screaming now and you decided to match her energy.

“BUT I DID! I was cleaning the fucking cuts, i was holding the ice bags and i had to watch you being broken everyday! I had to restrain myself of fucking her up everyday because of your feeling towards her!” Kate never knew about this, so that information is shocking, her head unfortunately for both of you took a defensive state so everything you say is taken personal. !!!

“ If that was such a fucking issue for you you could’ve just told me! I would never ask you for help if I knew!’ The bat in her hand is flying around, she always uses her hands while speaking so it's normal, in this situation though it's a little dangerous.

“It's not about me ! Its about you Kate, about people fucking you over and over again and you allowing them. It's about the fact that you are angry and you don't let yourself go!”

“I'M NOT ANGRY. I'M IN PAIN! AND THEY’VE PUT ME THERE” With that she delivers a first hit to the stack of plates. It's not in the center so plates end up falling from the table while breaking a couple of them. It's hard to aim when your face is covered in tears. You grab her arm before she can do a second strike stopping her mid flight. She tries to get out of your hold pushing you away with her other arm but you are one step ahead and you let go of your bat to grab both of her hands. You take her into a strong embrace letting her totally break down in tears. She cries, and it sounds like something she loved, someone she loves has died, maybe a part of her. Her voice is broken and you can hear her asking why, while you drop with her to the floor not letting go for even a second. She is still fighting to get out of your arms but you know that she is not fighting with you. You put your hand on her head closing any space left between you and you try to calm her crying a bit.

“I got you Kate… I'm right here with you, I'm not leaving…. ever. You can let go… just let go, I'm holding you.” And she does. She lets go of all the pain she feels at the moment, lots of memories coming back to her in a big feeling of chaos. It is hard for her to focus on one feeling, one problem, one pain so she grabs on to you tighter trying to ground herself in your touch. She starts paying attention to your fingers tracing patterns on her back, on your breathing being slow and deep and she tries to match it the best she can with her own. She focuses on the vibrations she can feel on her head that are coming from you humming her favorite melody. She finds peace in it and after a little while she slowly lets go of you to take a deep breath in and look at your face. You smile at her with the most genuine smile that she ever saw.

“Why are you so happy?” She is teasing you, you know she is.

“Because I'm proud of you Katie… so proud.” Your voice is low and soft, like the silence after the storm, like the moment when the rain stops falling abruptly after ripping the sky open with its force.

You help her stand up and that's the exact moment that she sees blood on your face. Her breath hitches while she points at your cheek. You touch the place and realize that while she hit the plates one piece of them got stuck in your skin. You take it out with almost no force and wipe already dried blood off of you.

“That's why we wear helmets.” You pick up the gear that was left on the floor, and help her put it safely on her head. After doing the same you hand her a bat and let her have an outlet for all of the forgotten feelings hidden inside of her for so long. Sounds are loud, rapid but so satisfying. Pieces of glass are landing on the walls, the floor and your clothing. At first she was shy with her hits, but you can see that she got more comfortable with the whole idea and actually put some work into it. You hold your cold bat in your left hand, it's only a prop, because today it's about Kate…. today is about Kate yn… You tell yourself trying to suppress any emotions you might have with this whole situation. Stacks of beer glasses seem to have your name written all over them. The bat you are holding gets a little bit heavier in your hand when you tighten your fist around it. Your veins become visible because of the pressure and your eyes are focused on the target, never looking away from it but holding yourself back as much as you can. Just when you start to feel yourself going into emotions, all of the glasses break in front of your eyes. A big hit delivered by Kate crashes them into pieces and powder, and with that she says that it's the last one that she needed. It brings you back out of your head and you nod at her, pointing to the door.

After leaving the room you give some time for Kate to change into her clothes while you are sweeping the floor to make it nice and tidy, mainly safe. You put down all the equipment and as you move into the room with a locker you can hear Kate humming the same melody you were trying to calm her down with. It warms you from the inside, the fact that you understand her and she trusts you enough to show you the most raw parts of herself. While you change Kate decided to look around some other rooms in the building. Some of them are holding more stuff to break, some of them have camping equipment, making her acknowledge that you probably spend some nights here. As you catch up to her you see that she found one of the most important places for you. The biggest room in this whole building has two chairs in the middle of it and 5 plastic boxes on the right side of it. Chairs are facing one wall, a wall covered in graffiti, with big sentences written in the middle of it. You lean on the entrance while Kate is trying to take it all in.

“What's that? Ver- Verba Vo…” “Verba Volant Scripta Manent. Spoken words fly away, written words remain.” You explain to her, trying to get her to understand what this place is about. “And what's all over that?” “All the reasons why me and Shuri were coming here. Tony Stark, Loki, work, even when I was arguing with you guys.” You laugh a little at the memory. “Even your mom.” You see her go closer to the wall as she eyes your mothers name written on the wall in the most chaotic way she ever saw. She puts her hand on the cold concrete and touches it lightly, collecting some dirt on her fingers by accident. She doesn't seem to care though. She turns with glossy eyes to look at you and a second later you are holding her in your arms. She is not angry anymore, but sad. Tears flow out while you hold her and allow her to feel all the emotions at once. She doesn't have to pretend with you, she never should. She lets you go and look at your face. Her cold hand lands on your cheek as she is trying to take care of you, leaving some of the dirt on your skin. It throws you off guard for a second because you didn't realize you were crying with her. As soon as you do you whip off the tears that escaped and hand her spray can from one of the plastic boxes.

“Write Katie, everything that's on your shoulders, write it out of you. It will stay here, and you will move on without it.” “Verba Volant Scripta Manent.” She repeats your mantra butchering latin pronunciation, making you laugh.

“Exactly.” You give her a nod and encourage her to start letting go of all the things that are in her heart. She is a little shy at first but gets a hold of it really quickly. She writes dates, names, words like work, comfort, cheating, fear. With each word she seems to be lighter and you enjoy the view. Carefully she writes everything down avoiding your drawing, your motto, which you really appreciate. As she finishes her work she takes a couple of steps back and enjoys the art of it. You join her, kiss the top of her head and take out of the box the last can, red one to put one last statement. She watches you really carefully as you go to her part of the wall and above everything she has written, you spray a big red word, saying “Rebirth”. As you turn around, a little bit dirty and tired, you feel happiness filling you in as she is smiling at you, in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

After closing up everything and making sure that the whole place is secured and tidy you make your way to the car. Kate is surprised to see an emotional hangover setup at the back of her car. Bottle of water, her favorite snack and tissues waiting for her, set down with love and care. It always amazes her how you can think in the future. There were countless situations in both your lifes when something unusual, tragic or just really out of nowhere came up and you are always ready for it. At least you seem to be. You are not talking much to each other while going back, no words needed between both of you. Kate can sense that it took a hold on you too so she provides comfort by playing with your hair on the back of your neck while you drive.

“I texted her.” Kates breaks the silence for a second, her voice barely above whisper.

“What did you say?”

“I broke up with her, I officially ended it, and I blocked her.” You put your hand on hers, letting her know you are right next to her. She expected you to be happy but you were always better for her then she anticipated.

“And how do you feel about it?” You ask tenderly.

“It hurts… I know she wasn't good, she never was, but she meant a lot and it… it just hurts.” You nod your head waiting for her to continue, giving all the space she might need.

“ But it's going to heal, and as much as it pains me I also feel lighter. I need it. Thank you yn, for everything.” She interviews her fingers with yours and allows silence to take over, leaving you both in each other's comfort.

Next chapter

───⋆☆────────────────⋆☆────────────────⋆☆─── tag list : @autorasexy @lizziejolsen @natashaswife4125 @sayah13 @romanoffskisser @lijo-8 @jjiiuuisssagcebrcw @natashaswife4125 @dumbassbitchwithnotits @teenybean, @marvelwomen-simp, @ripofflizzie

#stonemags #sugar baby au #sugar mommies #kate bishop x valkyrie #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #darcy lewis x carol danvers #maria hill #pepper potts #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wandanat x female reader #marvel #fanfic

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fornasedensgudar · 8 months

Text

Have you forgotten her?

Do you know her name?

Who is she?

The goddess Ilmr.

(Pardon my bad english, not my first language)

Shes listed as a goddess and occurs in skaldic kennings in the 10th and 11th centuries, and were likely about to be forgotten and lost to all time.

Her name and mystery intreeged me and my fiance, so we did some witchy trans work and see what we could find and then compared, and we both came down to:

"Goddess of change, opens portals to helheim.

Protect the dead and give a safe passage.

Maker of scents to calm the dying. Half sister to Eir. Cold, alone and missunderstood.

Helps you re-think situations and see diffrent outlooks.

Half asir and half jötunn.

Perhaps listed as a disir and a valkyria."

(This is our UPG so take it as you may, its ok if you see her diffrent.)

But also, Not to far of I say so. If you look at some of the very little we have about her and some theories scholars have.

Like most goddesses her name hints to her role. But we are not sure what it means? Some say ilmr means "pleasant scent". This is strange for a goddess/valkyrie but another of her name some say could etymologically related to almr, meaning Elm tree. A tree that on iceland would then ben a rare and more and more rare thing to see along with most trees after the first settlments. Wich might be why she was forgotten, if she is the goddess of the Elm and the Elm becomes rare and travel to places where the elm grow and pepole know of her, then she becomes more and more unknown.

Another intresting thing about the Elm is that in folklore all over Europe its associated with death, something thats rather intresting when looking to a skald from 950s with the kenning "jalmr Ilmar" meaing "Ilmrs alarm". A nother hint to this is that Ilmr may be related to the noun jalmr (noise).

Also, in "Bjarnar saga Hítdælakappa" Bjarnar calls the disir that tells him about his comming death for "Ilmr armleggjar orma". Meaning sort of "ilmr of the armrings". Another thing hinting to her work in death.

So what do you say? Goddess of good scent? Or death? I say why not both? Of lovely scents and with incense we give thanks to spirits of the dead and their Guardian Who guides them to the next realm. With a lovely scent she calms the dead. She who screams in allarm on the battlefeald, goddeass of the Elm. She who helps those Eir could not.

Ilmr.

Here it up to us, the modern polytheistic community to remake as well make something new. Traditions and gods change and its we Who write the history as we work with and learn more about these gods. ((But remeber to make it clear whats UPG and whats based in old sources))

So what do you say?

Do you know the name Ilmr? And how do you see this forgotten goddess?

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mediocre-writerr · 1 year

Note

congrats on 2k! if you can, i'd love a wanda maximoff x romanoff!reader! based on the prompt "all that we are is all that we'll ever be because he's the one waiting at home." - smoke slow, joshua bassett

maybe reader and wanda had a secret relationship going on, but wanda is dating natasha right now. just super angsty, maybe with a happy ending or not, it's up to you!

thank you! and congrats again!

smoke slow [wanda maximoff]

summary: a college au; you and wanda started breaking away from the crowd and it started innocently, until it wasn't. the biggest problem, she's dating your older sister.

warnings: a few curse words, mentions of smut, angst, smoking, mentions of death, mentions of addictions

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x sister!reader, yelena belova x sister!reader

*not my gif*

The night was alive. The air was so thick and smokey. The music thrummed straight through the bodies surrounding you and into your eardrums. It mixed with a variety of conversations, half of them were high-induced philosophies and theories, while the other half were drunken confessions. Sweat flicked through the air with the start of every dance move. Tony Stark’s parties, always a rager, no matter what the occasion.

You shimmied off the dance floor, avoiding the hormone monsters that are college students grinding on one another. You were desperate for some sort of fresh air, away from the stuffiness of the dance floor. The kitchen was somewhat empty, more sober people maintaining intelligent conversations. Grabbing a red solo cup, you filled your cup with beer, as you people watched. Thor was trying his hardest to be Valkyrie in beer pong, but by the looks of the cups, he was failing. Steve, Bucky, and Sam had their arms wrapped around one on another as they sang along to some tune. But your eyes were torn from the scene when shouts of her name rang throughout your ear.

“Wanda!!” Clint yelled the loudest.

Her emerald eyes found yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world, her lips quirked upwards slightly. As quick as it appeared, it faded away, like reality finally caught up to her. You let out a deep breath as you maintained eye contact, trying to slow your racing heartbeat, “Y/N! Dude!” Scott yelled and you looked down at your cup to see it spilling over the edge like Niagra Falls.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, turning off the tap, and wiping off your beer soaked hands. Your eyes filtered back up to Wanda, as the redheaded Russian appeared behind her, intertwining their fingers together. You reach for the paper towel roll, ripping off a few pieces to clean up the mess you made.

“Wow sestra, the party started an hour ago and you’re already making a mess,” Natasha’s voice made you freeze in your spot. You turn to face your older sister wearing her infamous shit-eating smirk.

Your eyes drifted down to their intertwined hands as you gave them your best smile, “Ouch Nat, no, how’s my favorite sister doing? Or I’m so happy to see you!” You tease and she playfully rolls her eyes.

“Yelena would kick my ass if she heard me say that you’re my favorite sister,” Nat said, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Where is she anyway?”

You shrug, “Last time I checked she was about to play a game with Kate. Something about shooting arrows at beer bottles that rested on top of Peter’s head,” Natasha’s eyes widen at your nonchalant tone. Her eyes once more scanning the crowd for your younger sister. “Anyway, back to the whole favorite thing. She can’t kick your ass if it’s the truth. I mean I’m your favorite sister, right?” Your sister rolls her eyes, as she starts weaving her way through the crowd in search of Yelena, “Wait! Nat! I’m your favorite, right?!” you yell over the loud music and the indistinct chatter.

Wanda chuckles, “Are they really shooting beer bottles off of Peter’s head?” She asks with a knowing look in her eyes.

Your eyes shined back with mischief, shaking your head, “Nope! Kate and Yelena suggested the idea, but Peter quickly shot it down, despite them trying to blackmail him.” The two of you share a giggle at the thought of the best friends.

“They’re gonna kill that poor boy one day,” she says and you nod your head in agreement. The two of you stand there in a comfortable silence, people watching.

Wanda’s hand drifts closer to yours, desperate for some sort of contact with you. Before she intertwines your fingers together, you pull away quickly, “Shit. I promised Steve I would bring him this beer. He’s probably looking for where I am, I’ll catch you later,” you smile at her before taking the red solo cup and whisking yourself away. You left so fast, you didn’t get a chance to see Wanda’s disappointed look on her face.

The stuffy room suddenly felt suffocating, slipping out to the backyard, it was a lot less crowded. You slipped your shoes off, rolling up the cuffs of your jeans, as you dipped your legs into the pool. The cool summer night breeze brushed through your hair, drying the sweat that lingered from the dance floor. You grabbed your pack of cigarettes from your back pocket, flickering your lighter to slowly kill yourself by inhaling the small cancerous stick.

Your mind drifted back to the brunette inside, you could marry her. You really wanted to fucking marry her. You had never felt this way about anyone before. Even though you shouldn’t, you know damn well that you shouldn’t. But that night over winter break changed everything for you.

The winter breeze shook through your body, as your legs dipped into the freezing water. You hugged your jacket tighter against your body, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket. You felt someone’s presence next to you, as they sat down, dipping their own feet into the pool. You slowly inhaled from the nicotine lit stick, as you turned your head to face the unknown presence. Wanda had a sheepish smile on her face, her brunette hair tucked back behind her ears, “Can I have a light?” she asks.

You chuckle softly, flicking the ash onto the concrete next to you, “Wanda Maximoff, having a smoke? Since when?”

“Since right now. I want to try one,” she said, sitting up straight, her voice sounding confident, like she knew what she was doing.

“No, I’m not gonna give you one,” you laugh at her shocked face.

“But why not? You do it all the time!” she questioned with her eyebrows furrowed and matching pout on her face.

God she looked so adorable, but you quickly shook that intrusive thought off, “Exactly I do it all the time, which doesn’t make it a good thing. These little guys are terrible for you, especially when you get addicted. They slowly kill you from the inside out. I mean I have one every day and you know what? It’ll probably kill me one day. At the time, I didn’t have anyone care enough about me to tell me to stop. So no you absolutely can not have one because if I give you one my sister would probably kill me before the smoking does."

She looks at you with her eyes widened and a small smile, "Are you sure this is about Nat kicking your ass or do you not want to give me one because you care about me?" She teased in a sing songy voice as a light pink coats your cheeks.

“Definitely more about my sister kicking my ass. Speaking of my sister, I’m honestly surprised you came to this party. My sister is off on a work trip in Boston and you’re usually attached at the hip.”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, someone was a little convincing today with the whole ‘Wanda please! We haven’t hung out together since you started dating my sister!’ begging act that you pulled today.”

“Excuse me! I was not begging!” you bring your voice down to a whisper, leaning towards her ear, “Trust me Maximoff, when I’m begging there'll be much less clothes on,” you wink at her, causing her eyes to widen and a soft blush to dust over her cheeks. She slaps your shoulder, throwing her face in her hands before letting out a groan, “C’mon, pretty girl, let’s get you a drink!”

You get thrown back into reality, when Thor drunkenly jumps into the pool and the cool water sprays across your face, “Sorry Y/N! Thor lost at beer pong and this was the punishment!” Valkyrie explained and you gave her a tight lipped smile before getting up and going back inside.

You were just going to sit by the window sill away from the rest of the party, but your eyes found Natasha and Wanda’s figures on the dance floor. The two of them moved sensually to the beat and you couldn’t help, but feel the ache in your heart. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away until those god damn green eyes found yours and you quickly looked away, sneaking off towards the balcony. No one else really knew about it. But you knew it, all too well.

Wanda’s breath was close to your ear, as she tried to get you to hear her over the pounding music, “Do you want to break away from all of this? I think I need a little breather.”

You nod, “C’mon, I know the perfect place,” you extend her hand out to her and she intertwines your fingers together, not wanting to get separated in the crowd.

Leading her through the house and to the balcony on the top floor, you opened the door for her. The rest of the party seemed to have faded away from your secluded spot. The only real noise was the muffled music coming from downstairs, but even that seemed like it was miles away. The drinks were taking effect, not too bad enough to have you spinning, but a nice little buzz in your head.

The two of you take a seat on the little patio chairs, looking up at the bright city skyline. People like to think of the New York City skyline as one of the most beautiful views in the world, but as Wanda sits next to you with the bright city lights illuminating her face, it definitely tops the city. Once more, you fetch out your pack of cigarettes, lighting another one as it rested in between your fingers.

“You said that when you first started smoking it felt like you had no one who cared about you, why is that?” the brunette asks, staring at you intently as you exhale a puff of smoke.

You shrug, flicking the ash onto the ground, “I started back when we were seniors in high school, after my mom died and my dad left. Nat turned 18 not too long before my mom died and she was forced into the role of being an actual adult because when you turn 18, you’re not really an adult even though you’re labeled as one. Some 18 year olds just finished high school, and are still living with their parents, but Nat had to take care of two younger sisters. She had to put her life on hold for me and Lena. Instead of helping her and supporting her, when our mom died I kind of blew off all responsibilities. I turned rebellious, stopped playing volleyball, hung out with the wrong crowd. Nat always had the disappointed mom look and she was always angry at me, which made Yelena angry with me all the time. So, when I started smoking our relationship was so bad, that it felt like neither of them would have cared.”

“I didn’t know that,” she whispered. It was eye opening to her, you were her best friend. Of course, she knew that your mom died and that your dad left as soon as she died. But it seemed like a new side of you was shining through.

“Not a lot of people do. It’s one of the things I regret the most, you know? I was so selfish back then. I mean even Yelena acted like more of an adult than I did. Now every time I light one of these guys, it’s a constant reminder of what I did…or well I guess what I didn’t do. My punishment for how I acted back then,” you chuckle lightly, “I’ve never said that before, so I better not regret telling you Maximoff.” A lighthearted tone in your voice, as you try to hide the self depreciation in it.

Her head tilts to the side and her eyes are lit up, like you just showed her the most amazing thing in the world, “You won’t.”

A shiver ripples through her body and you quickly shrug off your jacket, placing them over her body. Your scent of smoke and subtle hints of vanilla invaded her senses, quickly becoming addicted to it. “Why didn’t you bring a jacket, Wands? My sister’s not here, so who are you trying to impress,” you quip and she smiles, shaking her head.

“No one,” she mutters, but she desperately wishes she could say, ‘you’.

“What’s got you so angry?” Yelena asks, plopping down next to you with her own red solo cup in her hand. The soft memory fading away from your mind as you shrug. The itch to reach for another cig was becoming too strong.

“Nothing. How’d you even know I was up here?”

“I saw you pouting like Peter Parker when Kate and I make fun of him, so I followed you up here,” she shrugs, “So do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really," you say pulling at the loose thread from the rips in your jeans.

She scoffs, “Let me rephrase that question, do you not want to talk to me about it because it’s about Wanda?”

“Yelena don’t-“

“No Y/N. Look, whatever you and Wanda had going on, it needs to stop,” your younger sister scolds.

You stand up abruptly, rubbing your face with your hands, “Don’t you think I know that? You’ve already lectured me once and I’ve kept my distance from her since then. I am trying my best! Now please, just leave me here to sulk, I’ll be fine just like I always am.”

She throws the pack of cigarettes that you didn’t even know fell out of your pocket. Some of them rolling onto the ground, “You told me you quit these too! You don’t think I could smell the smoke off of you right now? I may be your little sister, but I am not stupid. So if you were lying about these, how do I know you’re really lying about stopping things with Wanda?”

She opens the balcony door about to walk in, but she stops just as she enters the frame, “You’re supposed to be the older sister, right?” She looks at you intently like she’s waiting for an answer and you just nod. “So fucking act like it.”

Yelena slams the door shut. You collapse onto the patio chair, dropping your face into your hands as you let out a shaky breath. Your shaky hands reached for the pack of cigarettes on the floor, neatly placing it in a box, but keeping one of them out, lighting it as it rests in between your lips.

How did everything get so fucked up?

“I’m not this type of girl,” Wanda whispers in the middle of the night. You and your sisters had your closest friends over for a small party. Everyone else seemed to have passed out from Yelena’s drinking games. But both you and Wanda were fighting dreamland and instead giving into your fantasies.

The spring breeze rippled through the two of you as you stood out on your apartment balcony. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, leaning in a bit closer, “I don’t sneak around in the middle of the night and secretly hope that my girlfriend's sister is awake. I don’t hug someone for longer than what is deemed friendly in a stranger’s eyes. I don’t immediately look at someone who’s not my girlfriend after anyone tells a joke just to see their smile,” she says, as the two of you just continue to get lost into each other’s eyes.

You start shrinking under her gaze, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in your hoodie pocket. You were about to light it when Wanda grabbed the lighter and the rest of the pack that you held in your hand. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into her beautiful green eyes, “You once told me a month ago that you felt like you had no one who cared enough to tell you to stop smoking when you first started. So, I’m telling you right now that I care about you and I don’t want you to kill yourself with these stupid sticks.”

A shy smile curled onto your face, as you let her throw your pack into the trash can. “I’m not that kind of girl either, but as I’m staring into those goddamn eyes of yours all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.” You quip back, ignoring the guilt induced thoughts that are trying to betray what your heart is screaming at.

She snorted at your response, a mischievous smile on her face. The pad of Wanda’s thumb gently traces over your lips and your body freezes. Her hands hesitantly move from your lips to your cheeks, as she stares into your eyes begging for approval. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her lips, and the brunette immediately returned the kiss gently.

You place your hands on her chest, pressing harder against her lips. She smiles to herself as she places her hand on your waist. Your kisses become more passionate as your tongue battles for dominance. Her hands on your hips pulled you closer and your cold hands quickly slid under your shirt.

As she ran out of breath, she decided to slide down to her neck, leaving sloppy kisses. You let out a small moan in pleasure, “Wanda?” She hums in response, slightly nipping your neck, “Do you want to take this to my room?”

“Please,” she mumbled against your neck.

When it was over, the two of you lay next to each other. The pants of your breathing filled your bedroom. Your bare chests moving in perfect rhythm to your shared heartbeat. The beautiful brunette shifts her body towards you, looking at you with droopy eyes and tired smile.

“Hi,” Wanda whispered shyly.

“Hi,” you said, charmed.

She grabs your fingers and plays with them, weaving her own fingers between them, bringing your hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against it. Your hands trace figures along your hip. Her gentle hand brushes away a stray piece of hair that fell across your face, as she tucked it into place.

“I have always wanted you,” she whispers, “It’s always been you.”

What should’ve been the last time turned into a past time. Two best friends breaking away from a party started innocently. Gossiping in the bathrooms quickly turned into heated makeout sessions. A breather on the balcony away from your drunken peers turned into deep conversations with her head tucked into the crook of your neck as you hold onto each other.

That one tiny spark that the two of you wouldn’t put out was slowly coming to the end of the cigarette. The cigarette stick was nothing, but a nub as it was about to disintegrate into thin air.

At first it was fun, making a million excuses just to have a simple moment alone. Until, the need for something more came to be and the realization of what the two of you had done seeped into your bloodstream like some sort of drug. A drug that you couldn’t kick. You had stopped smoking for her, but she was this new drug that you were terribly addicted to.

Wanda’s head rested on the top of your chest, as your arms wrapped securely around her. From the curtains of your window, you could see the sun start to slowly rise, and the soft snores from her mouth filled the room.

You kiss the top of her head gently, “Wands,” you whispered in her ear, scratching her back. A soft hum escaped her lips as she stirred in your arms, “The sun’s coming up, you should sneak out before Yelena wakes up.”

“Just a few more minutes,” she whispers, nuzzling deeper into your neck.

“We don’t have a few more minutes, darling,” you respond with a soft smile on your face. She lets out a soft groan before lifting herself off of you. Wanda sat up, pulling your oversized t-shirt over her, and a pair of shorts. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her tired eyes were one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. “You’re a work of art, Wanda Maximoff.”

She snorted, “That was lame,” she mumbled, leaning down to kiss you. Her lips slightly chapped, but you didn’t care, you just loved the feeling of her lips on yours. “I’ll see you at the party tomorrow night, where we are going to go through with our plan and tell Natasha together, right?”

Even though her eyes were still droopy, she looked at you intently, “Right,” you mumbled against her lips, pressing another kiss to them.

“Y/N, I need you to promise me this time. Every time we’ve made a plan to tell her the truth, you’ve backed out. We can’t keep lying to her like this. I want to be with you the right way. So, please…for me?” she whispered to you.

You let out a sigh, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before touching them together, “I promise.”

“I love you,” she whispered into the thin air.

“I love you. I have loved you, well…definitely longer than I should have. We’ll tell her tonight and we’ll face the consequences together. I promise,” A wide smile crosses her face and how you so desperately wish you could hold onto that smile forever. She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling herself closer to you as she kisses you with so much love, you don’t know how your heart hasn’t exploded. “Now, you should probably get going before Lena wakes up. C’mon pretty girl, I’ll walk you out,” you whisper to her, kissing her quickly.

The two of you reach your apartment door, kissing her once more before asking her to text you when she gets home. You were about to stumble back to bed, desperate for some shut eye, when you bumped into a figure. Your eyes flickered onto your little sister.

“What are you doing up so early?” She questions.

“I needed some water, so I just chugged a glass,” you lied. “Why are you up so early?”

“I promised Kate that I would go on a morning run with her, Peter, and Lucky this morning,” she answered, staring at you intently.

You give her a tight lipped smile, “Well, I uh hope you have fun. I’ll see you when you get-“

“Are you sure you were just grabbing some water? Because from what I saw from here, you were just walking Wanda out of the apartment. She was wearing one of your shirts, which I thought was fishy. But I just thought that maybe she just spent the night. I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me, but that’s cool. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, I didn't want to jump to conclusions. But all of that benefit of the doubt bullshit I told myself flew out my head when I saw you kiss her goodbye. What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Lena, look-“

“How long?” She interrogated you and your eyes drift down to your hands as you fiddled with them. Your little sister looked down to meet your gaze, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “How long, Y/N?”

“For the last three months, but we’re planning to tell her the truth tomorrow night at Stark’s party.”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Y/N. Nat has sacrificed everything for us! Everything! She declined her top college on the west coast to stay home and take care of us. She took crappy jobs that she didn’t want just to make ends meet when she was just 18 years old! She wasn’t like you. She didn’t throw away her volleyball scholarships. She gave them up. She sacrificed and lost everything! For me,” she took a dangerous step closer to you, pushing her finger into your chest. “And you! Natasha wanted us to have the best life that mom had always promised us, even if that meant putting her life on hold. And this is how you’re going to repay her for that? You're going to repay her by sneaking around with her girlfriend?!”

“That is not fair, Lena!” you scold her.

She scoffs, “Not fair? Do you know what’s not fair, Y/N? The money she saved in her savings account all throughout high school quickly drained, because she had to bail you out of jail more than once. You were lucky that Steve’s dad was the sheriff so it never touched a sliver of your record, but Nat still had to pay the fines. It’s not fair that when I was a sophomore in high school, I couldn’t go to any football games or dances because I had to grow up and cover all of your shifts while you were off getting shit faced somewhere else!”

“My mom died-“ you were about to argue.

“So did ours, Y/N!” she screamed at you. “Yet, Natasha and I were picking up the pieces and you kept destroying everything in sight. So, I want you to think about this when you and Wanda tell Natasha all about your relationship tomorrow night, she has given everything she loves up for you and me. Wanda is just going to be one more thing she loses because of you.”

The two of you stayed there in a tense silence, just staring at one another with tear filled eyes. Until the front door swung open. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as your older sister wheeled in her suitcase from her latest business trip.

A low whistle left her lips as she saw the standoff between the two of you, “Is everything okay?”

Yelena was first to break her gaze, forcing a smile on her face, something she has gotten far too good at. “Yeah, welcome home, sestra. I’m about to head out to go on a morning run with Kate and Peter, I'll see you guys later.”

“What was that about?” Nat asked as your younger sister left.

You shrug, “No idea,” you clear your throat, subtly wiping away at your eyes while she starts brewing some coffee. “How was the trip?”

The balcony door creaked open as you lit another cigarette. “Detka? What are you doing?” Wanda’s voice filled the thick air, grabbing the cigarette from your lips and throwing it out. “You haven’t smoked for the last three months, when’d you even get a pack? What happened?”

Your eyes were bloodshot from holding back the tears that you were so desperately trying to keep in. You know what has to happen.

The drug that is Wanda Maximoff gave you such a high. You were so addicted to the illusions of the love between you and her. A love that never was and never will be. The worst part about any addiction is that it’s so intimate. You become so close with your addictions that leaving them behind is like killing a part of you that taught you how to survive. And all that’s left of you is pain and misery.

“Y/N, why have you been avoiding me?” Wanda questions, her voice shaking just a little bit.

You shrug, “You seem a little preoccupied. I didn’t want to intrude,” you look out at the skyline, desperately avoiding her gaze.

“Oh okay. So this has nothing to do with what we’re going to tell Nat tonight?”

You shook your head, “There’s nothing to tell. There’s nothing going on between us, Wanda. There can’t be anything going on,” you look at her, the tears that you were trying to hold back were falling like droplets of rain against your car window. “You’re my best friend and you’re my sister’s girlfriend. That’s all.”

“You’re not just my best friend, Y/N, and you know it. You can’t pretend like we never happened because it did, it happened. And I don’t regret it, not one bit. I am in love with you, Y/N, and I know what we did wasn’t right, but I can’t help but love you,” she explains to you, trying to wrap her arms around you, but you shake your head once more as you step away from her.

“This can’t happen. We need to pretend like none of this happened-“ you begged her. You didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be.

“We have been sneaking around for months! Even if she doesn’t know it, we have already hurt her! If we tell her together, we are doing right by Natasha. She’s going to be heartbroken and angry, but she’s going to realize one day that this was the right thing to do. She deserves better than someone who’s in love with her sister.”

There was a silence that followed, as you just continued to stare at her speechless, “I can’t-“ your voice breaks, as you look down at your hands.

Wanda’s arms wrapped around your waist and you weren’t fighting it anymore. She placed her forehead against yours, her voice pleading, “I’ll fix it please, I’ll do anything. We don’t have to tell Nat until you’re ready, just please don’t do this.”

“You can’t fix this, Wands. The only person who can fix this is me. You’re right, Nat deserves better, and after all the shit I put her through the last five years, I'm going to give that to her. I’m going to be the sister she should’ve had by her side when our mom died. So that means letting you go,” you whispered, biting your lip to stop the sobs that are trying to escape. “You deserve better than me anyway, Wands. Someone like my sister,”

You kiss her forehead, before pulling away from her embrace, “I’m sorry,” you whisper to her.

You avoided her tear stained cheeks and glossy eyes, as you continued to sit out and stare at the city before you. You destroyed everything in sight, but this time you were going to be the one to pick up all the pieces. Suddenly, her gaze wasn’t on you anymore and the balcony door was being slammed shut.

Your eyes drift to the voices at the front of the house, “Wanda, what happened?” Nat’s voice rings in your ear and you can see them from where you’re sitting.

“Nothing, it was just too crowded and everything was too overwhelming. I think I just need to go home,” she says and you hate how her tears are because of you. Your older sister wrapped her strong arms around the distressed girl, holding her tighter.

Fishing out your pack, you lit the small cigarette, enjoying the way it made your head feel. Wanda’s eyes flickered up towards the balcony, noticing the smoke emitting off of it. You let out a sigh, staring at the girl in front of you. All that the two of you were was all you were ever going to be because she always had someone waiting at home.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Nat whispered to her, intertwining their fingers together, and leading her to the car.

Nicotine doesn't taste the same as Wanda did, but it’ll have to do.

#wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #a mediocre 2k party

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thorraborinn · 8 months

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I know you have done posts about the etymology of the name Sigyn, but what I was wondering was if you might know where the idea that she's a Valkyrie comes from? I see a lot of posts on here saying that her name means friend of victory and that means she was a badass Valkyrie serving Odin, which doesn't make any sense or seem likely to me. I honestly feel this way because of stanza 22 of Lokasenna, wherein Loki calls out Odin's treatment of humans in battle, which makes me question why he would marry a Valkyrie. I don't know, maybe someone else can answer this, if not. I'm going to write a post about my continued quest to find more fun books about Norse mythology and Loki especially, so I will most likely mention it in that.

I agree with you that the theory that Sigyn is a valkyrie is not correct. I'm not sure where it originated, but there are a few reasons that I am not surprised that people believe it.

Sigyn has been studied and debated for well over a hundred years, but nobody really proposed a good etymology for her name until 2017, and he did it in a very dense linguistics paper that's difficult for most people to understand. Especially in his second, more verbose paper on the subject, he also included a lot of comparative Indo-European mythology that most people rightly regard as speculative and outdated, and while it doesn't ruin his etymological argument, some non-linguists might object to it and find the author less credible because of it.

The element sig- or sigr- means 'victory' and is very common in Old Norse names in general, and occurs twice in Valkyrie names (Sigrdrífa and Sigrún). It's much more common in human names, but Sigrdrífa is an important enough figure to stand out and probably adds to the perception that sig- names are typical of valkyries.

We are now fairly certain that Sigyn's name is actually Sígyn with a long i, so it isn't 'victory' at all, and most likely originally meant something to do with pouring liquid, but again, this was only formally demonstrated in 2017 in a paper that few people have read. So the 'victory' interpretation prevails for now. It had a 100+ year head start, and it will take a long time for Ginevra's new etymology to reach people.

Since deity names usually have some connection to the deity's role, domain, or actions they perform in myth, it seemed for a long time like there was an unanswered question about what exactly Sigyn did that was victorious enough to be named that. Deciding that she must be a valkyrie is a neat solution to that question, because it would mean she doesn't have to acquire victory herself, but because valkyries pertain to granting or withholding victory in general it would make sense for a valkyrie to have that name.

The last thing that I can think of is that it could be an extension to a theory about why Loki is hanging around with the æsir to begin with. It's a common theory that Loki's mother Laufey was an áss and that's why he took her name as a matronymic rather than his jötunn father's. But it also makes some sense to propose that he married into the æsir. It's enough to suggest that Sigyn is an áss, but to say that she is a valkyrie ties up the previous two points and connects it to this one, because valkyries pertain to the æsir through Óðinn, even without really being æsir themselves.

So basically, it's a nice, neat theory that cleanly ties up a lot of loose ends, it's just that whenever you find one of those in the field of Norse mythology it's almost always wrong.

[Edit] I should also add that I understand that for some people this is really more of a gut feeling interpretation and that many people have found meaning in the 'victory-friend(fem.)' interpretation even while understanding that it isn't etymological, I'm really not trying to dismantle any of that, but just to clarify what's represented directly in medieval texts.

#sigyn #sígyn #avatar216

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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 11 months

Text

The Heart of a Wanderer III

Homecoming.

Read the previous part here.

2.3k words. Mild adult themes.

Elain decided she wanted nothing more than to spend the entire morning with her sisters, that same desire shared by Feyre and Nesta, obvious in the way they were barely able to leave her side. Their excitement at her return was palpable in every question they asked and every look of wonder they threw her way when she regaled their curiosities with her responses.

They wanted to know everything. Where she had been, who she had met, what she had learned. And she did her best to recount all the adventures of her travels to them. Feyre had pushed back all her meetings until after lunch and Nesta informed Cassian she would join the Valkyrie training after midday. Their mates happily obliged. It was obvious they had missed their sister.

Elain in turn had wanted to know about everything she had missed. Even though they had written to her often, she wanted it recounted in person. Elain asked about all of Nyx’s milestones, no matter how small or trivial they may have been. She wanted to hear about the progress Nesta had made with the Valkyries, how many more females she had recruited. She even asked about who had won the snowball fight last Solstice. To Rhys and Azriel’s chagrin, it had been Cassian again.

She asked Feyre how her gardens across the city had been faring and if the gardeners she had hired in her steed were doing an adequate job. She asked Nesta if her and Cassian had caused an avalanche across Velaris from their activities at the House of Wind. Nesta was not impressed with that particular line of enquiry, but Feyre had thrown her head back and laughed, agreeing she was unsure how the mountain had withstood their "enthusiasm".

Elain wanted to know everything. The only topic she prudently tiptoed around was one very specific one… That, she was sure, would be a discussion that would have to be had with Nuala and Cerridwen. Unfortunately. They wouldn’t let her skate around that topic for long.

But despite her warring thoughts about the male that continued to plague her mind, she still listened aptly to all the tales and chaos that had happened in her absence, and she couldn’t help but smile. She had almost forgotten just how much went on in Velaris and the Night Court.

Elain had always been her family’s balance. Their happy medium. The glue that had kept them together through all those years of hardship below the wall as well as their time in splendour. It was no different here in Velaris, and her absence the last fourteen months whilst she had been away had been felt very acutely. And apparently by all.

“We’re so happy you’re home, Elain,” Nesta lamented for the dozenth time since she’d returned early that morning, before her sister pinned her with a funny look. “I think Azriel is particularly happy to have you back, too.”

Elain’s breath halted delicately in her throat.

She glanced into her older sisters’ grey eyes, Nesta’s expression not giving away that she may know anything, surely testing the waters of whatever theory she had ticking away in that mind of hers. Nesta remained sitting stiffly beside her, her posture imperious and straight-backed. Elain raked her gaze down her form, noticed the regal way she carried herself. She was a warrior now. In some ways, Elain thought, she always had been. The only difference being that now, instead of spitting harsh words to tear down and maim, Nesta wielded her sword and strength.

Elain glanced back to Nyx who played at their side.

Wanting to take advantage of the last of the sunny weather before autumn truly gave way to winter, the sisters had laid out a large blanket in the gardens at the back of the river house. Elain sat sprawled out beside her nephew, sitting with her knees bent to the side, cups of tea and sugar biscuits and the last of the season’s plums scattered around them. She had changed out of her sodden pants, wearing one of the simple powder blue dresses she had left behind that remained perfectly preserved in her closet.

“I don’t see why he would,” she finally responded, trying in vain to keep the bite out of her voice.

“He was rather morose when you were away. Even for Az,” Feyre supplied, somewhat absent-mindedly. Feyre hadn’t glanced at her to note the slight tightening of her mouth, instead remaining distracted by Nyx who had brought over a small daisy he had picked from the garden, handing it proudly to his mother.

Elain smiled softly at the exchange, watching her nephew wander back down the lawn, his little wings fluttering behind him as he went searching for the next thing that caught his attention. He had grown so much in her absence.

Sensing Nesta’s attention, Elain glanced up, and once again was met with her sister’s steely gaze. But it had turned more contemplative, Nesta’s stormy eyes roaming over her expression as if she were trying to crack a difficult code.

“How was it that you were able to winnow so far on your first attempt, Elain?” Nesta asked suddenly. Elain stilled. Nesta had never been one to mince her words, getting straight to the point.

The question wasn’t unkind, but genuinely curious. Elain could see her sisters’ mind working at something, Nesta’s subconscious stitching whatever pieces she had collected and attempting to put them into some sort of semblance of order. Elain struggled not to squirm under the scrutiny.

Feyre had looked up at that, at the sudden change of topic, her attention finally drawn away from her son.

Elain didn’t let her discomfort show, schooling her face into one of mild indifference. She had always been adept at hiding her true emotions. Had become proficient at wearing an unassuming mask, like many others in this Court.

“I told you all before, I simply thought of home. Longed for it, in fact. To be here with all of you, and then I just stepped into the Void and…something showed me the way.”

She tried not to let the guilt of the white lie consume her, it wasn’t all untrue after all. She had been missing them all. It was just the thought of Azriel that had pushed her to make that move.

“Yes, and you ended up in Azriel’s bath,” Nesta said pointedly. “That seems curious, don’t you think?”

Rhysand had said the same thing. Curious. She fought the blush that was threatening to colour the tops of her cheeks at the memory of what she had seen in that bath mere hours ago.

She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t tell her sisters about the suspicions she had for being able to winnow, or the thoughts she had been overcome with just before she had. She supposed it was because if she told them she suspected it was her desire to return to Azriel, then she would have to admit to the feelings she had for him. Which would in turn lead to conversations about why she had been so cold toward him of late, and therefore lead to admitting to the rejection she still felt so heavily from that Solstice night the year before last.

No, she couldn’t deal with all of that now. At least not yet. The humiliation still felt too raw. She had buried those feelings whilst she had been travelling, shoving them down as far as they would go. She realised she had been running from both the hurt of that rejection as well as her feelings for the Shadowsinger. But… she had returned to talk to him. She should at least do that before divulging anything to anyone else.

“I guess something was bound to go wrong. It was my first time winnowing, like you said,” Elain answered nonchalantly with a wave of her hand.

She brushed the back of a finger against Nyx’s smooth cheek, relishing in the soft texture, noting the distinct, sweet scent he exuded that she had missed so much whilst she was away. With a wide blink, the toddler presented a daisy for her too, the petals half crushed in his tiny fist, before he tottered back off again. She smiled down at the yellow flower in her hand.

“Have I told either of you about the parties Helion hosts in the private quarters of his palace?” Elain whispered, wanting to lead her sisters off the topic of Azriel, and into safer territory. She knew it was a cheap shot, but the Day Court orgies seemed enticing enough for the job.

Nesta’s eyes widened, the shock and intrigue evident on her face at Elain’s admission. “Elain! You didn’t go, did you?”

Elain smiled conspiratorially, her lips lifting into a sly grin. “I may have attended. Just to watch,” she verified.

Nesta regarded her sister with curious eyes at that admission, an interest creeping in that she had possibly never considered before.

Feyre’s eyes lit up like all her Solstices had come at once. “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “Elain, tell us every little detail.”

Elain beamed as she delved into a somewhat scandalous story about the infamous parties the High Lord of Day was known to throw. Perhaps she would allow herself to enjoy just one day with her sisters before her male problems would come knocking on her door again.

It was naive of Elain to believe she could have an entire day of reprieve before she was confronted with anything to do with the mess that was her love life. If she could even call her situation a love life. It was more like an unwanted mateship with a smattering of stubborn males’ life. Elain shook her head. That made no sense.

But as she walked into the kitchen at the river manor, she was met with twin smirks glancing up at her. Elain halted suddenly as she took in their faces, smug with silent glee, as if they had been awaiting her company all morning.

“Do not even start,” Elain begged, one hand held up, her palm facing Nuala and Cerridwen.

“Why Lady Elain!” Nuala began in mock offense, “I was merely going to express our happiness at your return to the esteemed Night Court.”

Cerridwen’s shoulders shook with laughter as she beat eggs in a bowl, the preparations for dinner already underway.

Elain’s eyes narrowed at her friends. “I’ll have you know; I did not return home to be mocked by the two of you. Thank you very much.”

“What did you return home for, then?” Cerridwen asked without missing a beat, her face alight with mirth.

Elain sighed. Stepping into the warm kitchen, her eyes roving over the workbench the twins were standing behind.

“I missed you guys, too. Although I can do without the ribbing,” Elain responded, choosing to ignore her friend’s question. She reached over and popped a plump cherry into her mouth.

“We are grateful for your safe return, El. But from what we gathered from your letters; you had not been planning your homecoming yet? We wanted to throw you a party upon your return.”

Elain glanced around at the platters of already prepared roast meats, salads, terrines, and various pickles and chutneys. The delicious smell of crusty bread filled the kitchen. This was much more food than a standard dinner at the river house. Her friends had been preparing a feast in her honour. She was touched.

“Well, I decided to come home early, before winter truly took hold,” she replied.

“It seemed you surprised us all with your sudden appearance. I’m sure Master Azriel will not forget your…faux pas anytime soon.”

Elain couldn’t see her friends face as Nuala’s voice floated out from the large pantry, but she was sure the wraith was fighting off a smirk.

Elain groaned.

“Please, do not remind me.”

Cerridwen’s eyes lit up. “Why, are the rumours untrue? Does an Illyrian’s wingspan truly mean nothing?”

“Cerr!” Elain hissed harshly, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “Of course not!”

“So then, the whispers are true? His endowment is as impressive as they all say?” Nuala supplemented mischievously.

“By the Mother,” Elain groaned, sinking into the stool propped near the back door. “You two are insufferable. It’s not fair, there are two of you and only one of me.”

They just shot back twin grins, mischief lining every feature of their stunning faces. Nuala’s face softened slightly as she gazed upon her friend.

“We only tease you, Lady. But do you not find it curious at all that of all the places you could have winnowed to, you appear where the Shadowsinger happened to be?”

Curious. There was that word again. Elain couldn’t lie to her friends, because if she was being honest with herself, it certainly was curious that when she thought of home, she also thought of Azriel. It was silly of her to do so. He clearly did not want her in the same way, but he had always offered her the most comfort. She felt safe with him. Was it truly so curious that home and Azriel had somehow become synonymous in her mind?

Of course it ruddy was curious. He was not her mate, after all. He had no business meaning anything to her, at least that’s what everyone seemed to believe.

She sighed. They were so confusing, these feelings. Sometimes she wondered if the pull she felt toward Azriel was merely a figment of her imagination. She often found herself pondering if his shadows matched the ones in her visions, the ones that twisted and twined until they depicted images of the future in swirling tableaus of black and white and grey.

“I guess it is curious,” Elain pondered quietly. “But it could also have been mere coincidence.” Her words sounded like a lie, even in her own ears.

Cerridwen gave her a kind, knowing smile, her eyes slightly sad as she gazed upon her friend. As if she could sense her denial, her confusion.

“One thing you must learn, Lady Elain, is that nothing in this world is mere coincidence.”

*******

tagging my OG list. If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @tswaney17 @sakurakittypeach @thefangirlofhp @wingedblooms @duskwhisperer @ultadverb @reverie-tales

#elriel #the heart of a wanderer #t writes #elain x azriel #acotar #elriel fic #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #traveller elain #elriel fanfic #archeron sisters #nuala and cerridwen

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