#FUCKING Lucien goddamn VANSERRA
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Today on I Reread Effloresce And Had What If Pov Thoughts: RHYSAND. Like what is going on in this dude's head? Seriously. In the little snipit we get of his pov it sounds like Hyburn is his biggest concern but that derails into a desperate need to one-up the Archerons SO damn fast. His oh so ~well~ thought out plan gets blown to smithereens instantly and his control freak self is PANICKING while also trying to maintain his whole calm cool casual facade. Will he ever admit how badly he misjudged the whole situation in the human lands? No. Does he even care? Probably also no. All that really matters by this point is that Feyre's sisters keep upsetting her and THAT can't stand.
Added to all this other plan breaking bullshit, Cassian starts following around after the angry loud one like a lovesick puppy and he's not 100% sure what's going on with Az but Something is.
And of course Lucien FUCKING Vanserra.
I'm willing to bet that Rhys's suggestion of going to get shithead papa Archeron is based on just how much Nesta and Elain seem to hate him.(And then Az shuts that down with "I will fucking KILL HIM")
Then the wardrobe of dead birds happens and he thinks for like half a second that he should feel bad about that but then Nesta is shouting at Feyre and he can't have THAT. (Then the sweet polite sister grabs the knife from Cass's boot. Oh yeah, she did STAB Az didn't she)
He looks forward to seeing Nesta put in her place by a bunch of misogynistic Illirian assholes but instead the entire legion is ride-or-die for team Archeron practically from the moment their feet hit the ground. How the HELL did they mange THAT? (it's called respect and basic decency. Try it sometime)
(and then Mor gets there just in time for Az to start noticeably losing his shit.)
(I also noticed that there was a line where Rhys bit back a snarl because even after all this time it would make Feyre uncomfortable. Meanwhile Lucien just has no qualms about being absolutely undeniably Faery in from of Nesta and Elain and they give exactly zero shits about it.)
Oh man, Rhys. Rhysie Rhysie Rhys slowly but surely showing more and more psycho.
So, the thing is, Hybern IS the top priority. However- and I think this is just like, so pivotal to Rhysands character as a whole- it has to be fighting Hybern his way. He has a year to tell the other lords shit, and he doesn't. He steals, he lies, he puts civilians in danger.
And why? Well, because that's the story he's telling.
Textually, observably we have Rhys, arrogant misogynistic selfish fuck face that he is, and then we have Rhys, the battered but unbroken noble underdog fighting against odds for the Good of All tragic hero man- this is the story he tells himself. It's the one he makes sure Feyre believes. It falls apart against all his actions, but that doesn't matter to him.
The humans don't want to talk to him? Of course he's going to find a back way in. Feyre's human sisters might die? Well, one less thing to take her away. Humans might die? Sure, Rhys feels bad, but not enough not to weigh the cost favorably.
Then he actually gets there.
And they're so... Unbiddable. Hostile. They've upset Feyre, they've written blood magic all across their land, and Rhys might appreciate cleverness but this is just more than he wants to deal with.
And Lucien. Sidebar: what I think is hilariously never talked about is. Well. Lucien actually is all the things Rhysand romantically imagines himself to be. He is ACTUALLY the lost heir, the disinherited son, the noble prince. He actually did stand against Amarantha for his friends. He's drinking respect women juice by the gallon while actually being charming and powerful. I cannot imagine this doesn't lie cardinal to the reason why Rhys is so disdainful towards him.
Lucien is easy to write off by himself. (Because Rhys fucking hates him). Nesta Archeron sets everybody's teeth on edge. Elain keeps smiling. They're all the worst and every one of them is important to Feyre and thus, a threat to Rhys. Anything that could hurt her is, he won't allow her to be hurt.
Cassian is acting like an idiot but Cassian is an idiot about women. Azriel is all Azriel but what else is new? Rhys will deal with it.
(Rhys will not deal with it. Rhys does not believe for a second how serious this all is. Rhys is, frankly, already bored. Maybe he'll find Feyre's father. It'll make her happy, and someone else can wrangle the others.)
They're merchants- of course they're merchants, grasping little mortals- they have a contract? Well, if they want to play with magic so badly, Rhys will help them.
(Rhys does not understand what Azriel finds so compelling, much less Cassian. Illyrians do not brook with disloyalty- even the mention is enough for shame. They won't betray him. They won't, but it's still enough to annoy)
Cassian's bleeding heart has always been a problem. Azriels moods. Honor. What honor did they ever learn, starving in the freezing mud, Rhys thinks. These humans want to wade into waters that will only drown them- Feyre will be so much safer, no ties left to mortality- of course Illyrians, backwards, difficult Illyrians, side with these misbegotten nightmare women. Let them be crushed by it, let one rebellious legion die, Rhys doesn't care either way.
He's pissed, but he's also letting things play out hoping it just implodes an entire situation he doesn't want to deal with.
He's also not actually totally in the loop. Cassian's POV makes Azriel really distinct because they are so, so close, but Rhys, for a lot of reasons, doesn't have the same understanding. He knows Azriel went off the rails when his mother and sister died, but so did, you know, half the mountains. He refuses to even entertain how personal it was beyond maternal feelings.
Things get worse and Rhys gets worse because this is not how it was supposed to go. What the hell is it about these Archerons?
#by where we are in the story Rhys would like to squash them like bugs and get back to business#Rhys eyeing shadows with teeth and lighting every fire place: this is FINE and will pass#also Rhys: of course its the Illyrians OF COURSE -#Rhys is so desperately trying to stay in character you're so right#FUCKING Lucien goddamn VANSERRA#Rhys is really out here like: right now Cas? torrid love affair Right NOW?#while Cassian is like struggling with identity and casting off the chains of repression#not to mention basically shouting to the skies he is MARRIED#without ever verbally you know. asking. one sided is fine. he's fine. he braided her hair (he'll never touch another woman again) he's FINE#Azriel carting around beloved bones is going to be the final straw#CLAW CHOKER#(Az can be a lil sexy a lil slutty and a tragic widow)#ps can I just say your summarizing is delightful!#effloresce meta
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You know what's been annoying me ever since I first read acotar? People don't appreciate Lucien enough. Not just in a sense that he's intelligent, and obviously good looking, and goddamn sassy and fun to be around if he's not currently depressed.
He's brave. He was the only one to stand up to Amarantha during her terror reign. He was the only one that didn't back down, while Ricebag took to his methods and everyone else just caved, LUCIEN MFING VANSERRA stood his ground. What did it get him? He lost an eye, and has people making fun of him. This is not talked about enough.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
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rank the characters in order of their thoughts on furries LMAOOOOOOO
STOP IT- okay fine.
17. Tarquin- Sweet, seahorse Tarquin. He's not AGAINST it...but when he learns about what's happening in Autumn and Spring, he's confused and concerned and maybe upset? Shape of DOLPHIN, Tarquin can't participate
16. Rhysand- Darling, I don't NEED to take an animal form and why would you want me to when I'm so magnificent OKAY ALRIGHT RHYS JESUS CHRIST WE GET IT. Tone it down. You're just okay.
15. Amren- Has written more than one twitter thread on the problems with these Fae and their animal/furry fucking ways. They've lost the PAGENTRY of what it means to be Fae. Says this unironically while sipping human blood.
14. Mor- Just not for her. Trying not to judge but like, she is DEFINITELY judging people for what they do in the privacy of their own bedroom. Join Calanmai? Uh no thank you. Not even curious.
13. Nesta- Arched eyebrow, curled lip when she learns about Lucien. I mean...if you're into that sort of thing I GUESS. You'll never catch Nesta with her cheek in the fucking dirt. She does the fucking, not the other way around.
12. Emerie- You'll never catch her DEAD with one of those half bat ding-dongs. No amount of Cassian explaining that wings do not equal furries will ever convince her. She knows what those men are like.
11. Gwyn- Respectful of what the rest of this list is up to, but would prefer a regular man. Ignores the man she routinely has sex with is half bat. Cognitive dissonance, we know her well.
10. Azriel- Half bat. Furry curious when he's punching Eris in the face at the High Lords meeting. Definitely listening a little TOO closely when he's spying on Spring. WHAT NO HES NOT INTERESTED THIS IS JUST FOR INFORMATION. Don't look at him like that.
9. Cassian- Disappointed he doesn't have an animal form. "Touch my wings, Nesta" he demands one night. "Look I bought this headband with ears-" No okay, yeah I'll put that away. Cassian would GO to Calanmai and fuck someone in a cave as a beast. Wishes he was a dragon (secret)
8. Feyre- Looking too hard and Helion and Rhys in beast form. I saw those descriptions Miss Ma'am. A thing of nightmares? A thing of daylight? Okay, alright. I'm sure you NEVER thought about yourself between them. OG furry fucker, given her time in Spring.
7. Helion- Look my man is liberated. He'll do anything once. Beast form, a fursuit, whatever. Cassian wants to wear little cat ears? Quick, Helion, this is your chance! Man is in love with an Autumn Court resident, he's too used to their strangeness.
6. Eris- Genuinely surprised people think it's weird. "We're MALE- practically animals already" he drawls. "FRENZY IS FOR ANIMALS" and he should say it. Everyone forgets that, but SJM should have taken the mate/frenzy trope to its natural conclusion
5. Jurian- Wife is a goddamn bird 12 hours of the day. He's sitting in this conversation like, what a bunch of pussies.
4. Vassa- Is a bird for 12 hours of the day. Husband does not seem to mind. No, technically theyve never DONE anything while she was a bird, but sometimes the humans stare when she's perched on his shoulder rubbing her head against his cheek.
3. Elain- Fox tail butt plug, a whole drawer of little headbands, my girl is a secret FREAK and I stand by that. Has nothing to add to this conversation, flaming cheeks when Lucien makes some small comment about it. Drags him home and lets him put her on his knees anyway.
2. Lucien- Helions son, former resident of the Spring Court orgy, pretend son of Autumn Lucien Vanserra Spell-Cleaver Archeron is a big fucking fan of furries.
TAMLIN- YOU ALREADY KNEW. FURSONA? YOU MEAN MY BEAST FORM RIGHT? Roaming the woods with claw and fur and talons doesn't mean he stopped having needs.
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Turn Your Ghosts Into Mine (4/9)
Summary: The Archeron women have been considered witches in their little Massachusetts town of Velaris for centuries and Nesta, Elain, and Feyre are no exceptions. After witnessing a love spell gone horribly wrong, the three young girls create a spell for their perfect man, vowing they will not love until they meet this man.
That, of course, all goes out the window when adult Feyre meets Tamlin Angelov. When Arizona detectives Lucien Vanserra, Rhysand Windhaven, and Cassian Sidra arrive on their doorsteps looking for the missing man, all three Archeron women will be forced to reconcile who they are and their place in Velaris.
Practical Magic AU. Also on ao3. (Hope you all enjoy what I call, “The Start of the Simps”).
Rhys hated that knitted zombie charm Cassian insisted on buying at the Tucson International Airport on their way to Massachusetts. He hated it even more when Cassian took the felt noose around the poor zombie’s neck and hung it from the rearview mirror. It dangled and danced with every bump of the car over the small town streets, bloody eyes bulging and hooked hands reaching. After they had parked at the modest inn Detective Vanserra was staying at, Cassian lugged their suitcases from the trunk and slammed the hatch closed. Inside the car, the damned charm gave one last lurch forward.
Rhys slammed his own door shut, peering up at the curtained window to see if any of the lights were on in Lucien’s window. Behind him, Cassian slung all their bags over his shoulder.
“Jesus motherfu—” Cass’ voice caught in his throat as he met eyes with a young mother pushing a lacy stroller up the road. “— fudge. Mmm, I could really go for some chocolate fudge right about now. Think they have any cute little candy shops here?”
The woman glared. Cassian offered her an apologetic smile, before trudging after his partner.
“What the hell did you pack and why does it feel like a goddamned meteor?” he hissed to Rhys.
“The mobile electronics Az told us to bring so we can communicate with him,” Rhys answered, snatching one of the bags so he could heave it over his own shoulder. “And you know, one of us did insist on traveling with his extended knife collection, and it wasn’t me.”
Finally giving up, Cass dropped his suitcase on the ground and pulled the handle to roll its wheels. They grinded against the aged sidewalk, rolling like a child’s backpack all the way up to Room 4B. Rhys wasted no time knocking the door. He didn’t know exactly who Lucien was expecting when he opened the door, but judging by the hopeful light in his eyes, he was expecting someone a bit more female than his two detective colleagues. His multicolored eyes took one long miffed look at the men. Then, he slammed the door in their faces.
“Oh, come on now! Don’t be like that!” Rhys crooned, pounding the door once more.
“Do you bastards really have to follow me all the way around the country?” came Lucien’s muffled reply.
“It’s not by choice, if that’s what you’re wondering. If it was up to me, I’d be relaxing back home where it’s warm and sunny. Not in some small town where it looks like it’ll rain at any damned second.” Silence followed behind the door. “Let us in, Vanserra. We were called to help on the case.”
Lucien sighed so loudly, Rhys could hear it from inside the room. Reluctantly, he slid open the door and gestured for his friends to come in. Rhys tried not to curl his lip when he took in the shoebox size of the room and the twin bed he’d have to share with Cassian. He was already considering how fucked up his back would get if he slept on the floor when Lucien leaned against the mahogany dresser.
“I can’t believe you didn’t even have the decency to bring Azriel with you,” he commented.
“He doesn’t have the people skills to make it worth being away from headquarters,” Cass replied. Like a fish out of water, he plopped onto the bed. The springs grated and whined at his weight. “Sounds like you haven’t gotten a chance to break this in yet,” he teased suggestively.
Lucien rolled his eyes, arms folding over his chest.
“What are your orders, exactly?” he asked listlessly.
“Assist on the Angelov case as needed,” Rhys said, sticking a cigarette into his mouth. His thumb had flicked his lighter to life when Lucien gave him a disapproving stare. Stuffing the smoke back into his pocket, he continued, “Any leads so far?”
“Tamlin’s girlfriend lives with her two sisters. Haven’t met her yet, but I have met the middle one.” There must’ve been something in the way he said it, because Cassian’s brow shot up to his hairline.
“Have you now?” he chuckled. Lucien ignored him.
“She definitely knows something. It was hard to tell if she was afraid of him or afraid of being caught for...whatever it is that they’re hiding. I was planning on going over to ask them a few questions this morning.”
“Excellent. We’ll go with you,” chimed Rhys.
“Uh uh, I’m not overwhelming these women with a bunch of western bastards on their doorstep before noon. We have to play this smart so we don’t overwhelm them.”
“I think you’re failing to see the possibilities here,” Cassian said, back still flat on the bed. He held up a hand, three fingers pointed to the ceiling. “Three sisters, three of us. Divide and conquer.”
Rhys let out a low chuckle. “Coming from you, that sounds filthy. But you do have a point. Maybe it’ll seem less like an infiltration of their home and more of an afternoon with guests if we split up.”
“You can leave Elain to me, then,” said Lucien.
“There there, boss. We won’t go after your girl,” Cass promised. Lucien rolled his eyes again, but Rhys caught him blushing in the dated mirror against the wall. “Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll make us breakfast.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Lucien grumbled. He threw his brown jacket over his shoulder and opened the door. “We’ll walk.” He was halfway out the door when he froze in place and gave a small groan. “One more thing.” Rhys cocked a brow. “They’re witches.”
“ Witches ?” blurted Cass, absolutely delighted.
“You’ll see.”
The Archeron house looked like a castle from the road. It was painted a snow-colored white, complete with matching columns and decorative shingles on each of the gables. Intricate scrollwork arched over the entry and larger windows, though the most eye-catching section was the tall tower that loomed higher than the rest of the roof. Rhys expected a person could stand at its window and see all of Velaris.
Lucien was eyeing the gardens, extravagant and masterfully cultivated, as if he expected to find someone there. When he found the grounds empty, he turned to Rhys and said, “Go ahead and knock.”
Rhys caught the message. When it came to interpersonal skills, Rhys and Lucien were evenly matched. But if things went sour and the sisters did react poorly to having unexpected company, Lucien didn’t want that falling back on him. For now, he’d let Rhys take the lead. Instead of knocking, Rhys pressed a finger into the doorbell, smirking when an eerie chiming floated outside from the open window. When the door opened, Rhys all but sank to his knees.
Just one look, one single glance, was all it took for Rhys to feel like his chest had filled with unbearable tightness and heat. He wasn’t sure where to look to keep from imploding. Only knew that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The youngest Archeron sister was leaning against her entryway, one arm propped up against the moulding. The lines of her face were sharp, her lips were full, and her eyes were so deep with bluish silver that they rivaled the sea. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a humming, ancient voice murmured, Feyre.
“Can I help you?” she asked when Rhys was too tongue tied to offer a single hello. Rhys cleared his throat.
“Ah, hello. Miss Feyre Archeron?”
Feyre hummed her confirmation.
“Sorry to bother you. My name is Detective Rhys Windhaven. I have with me my partner Cassian Sidra and federal detective Lucien Vanserra. Could we interrupt your Sunday for just a few minutes to ask you a few questions?”
“So many agents must mean it’s something serious. Am I in trouble?”
No, but I would very much like to get into trouble with you, Rhys’ mind purred. He forced his mind blank before another part of him could get any ideas.
“Not at all,” he said instead. “This may come as a shock, but your boyfriend Tamlin Angelov is wanted for the murder of three innocent women in Arizona. We’re just trying to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”
Feyre’s arm slid down the door and covered the exposed midriff that Rhys suddenly had an inexplicable urge to graze his teeth over.
“I haven’t seen him since he gave me this.” She brushed her chestnut hair away from her face, revealing a fist sized bruise that turned her pale skin a sickly grayish purple. “Left him after that. If a man hits me, he only does it once.” Rhys tilted his head. “But I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very much help answering your questions.”
“Then we’ll be in and out of your hair in no time,” Rhys grinned. “Could we come in?”
Feyre bit her lip and Rhys’ knees turned to grape jelly.
“How about I do you one better,” she crooned, bumping her bare foot against his boot. “How about you fellas stay for breakfast. My sister Elain is cooking, and she makes the best pancakes this side of the coast.”
Rhys half expected it when Lucien blurted, “We’ll stay.”
*
Cassian stuffed his hands into his pockets as he ambled into the house. If Elain is with Lucien and Rhys is with Feyre, that leaves the last for me, he thought to himself. He’d gotten a glimpse at the middle sister when Lucien followed the aroma of pancakes into the kitchen, but the oldest...the oldest was hiding somewhere.
“Mind if I look around a little?” Cassian called up to Feyre. She caught his gaze, wary, but he only held his palms up and said, “Not on detective business or anything. Just wanna...check out this crazy place. All the houses in Arizona look the same, you know.” Feyre spent a moment considering this, but when she caught Rhys’ heavy gaze on her, she waved Cassian off.
The layout of the house reminded Cassian of the mazes that sometimes popped up in the newspaper. It felt like the house was eating him alive as she searched out the last Archeron sister. He froze against a corner when voices sounded around the other side.
“I don’t like having them in the house, Elain,” said an unfamiliar voice. It made Cass’ ears perk up, almost as if his heart could recognize what his soul could not.
“What choice do we have? If we don’t cooperate, they’re going to take us away in handcuffs.”
“That’s not how that works,” the other huffed. “Look, go finish breakfast. I’m brewing something up in the herb closet.”
“Brewing what ?” Elain pressed.
“Betel nut and morning glory.”
Elain cursed so quietly, Cassian second guessed himself for having heard it at all.
“Fine, but be careful.” Then her feet skittered off toward the kitchen where she gave a nervous greeting to her Detective Vanserra. For a dangerous moment, Cass was terrified that the last sister would round the corner and find his looming ass eavesdropping. But as he poked his nose around the edge, he saw the final Archeron sister slip into the open herb closet. As carefully as if he were walking in a room full of sleeping puppies, he crept across the hall and watched the tall woman run her hands along stocked shelves of mysterious substances in jars. She grabbed two and filled a suspiciously cauldron-shaped pot with a floral smelling liquid.
He almost fell flat on his ass when the fire underneath the pot roared to life with just a wave of her hand. But there was no way to hide his gasp. Her head snapped up, catching him half-crouched in the doorway.
That dangerous first look had cracked the wood underneath his feet and sent him freefalling into an abyss of unknown feelings. He could barely put words to it. Not when he looked upon her—on her sharp, stormy eyes and long nose. Not when her lips were turned down in a sneer, but bore the same rosy color as her high cheekbones. She was so familiar. He knew her. He knew he did. He knew her laugh, her smile, the way her hair stuck to her hot cheeks after she’d been brought over the precipice, even the pale freckle on the small of her back. As well as he knew himself, he knew her.
Her name spilled out of his lips before he could stop it.
“Nesta.”
The jar she held thudded onto the table, almost cracking at the base.
“Who the hell are you?” she snapped. He paused. He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember, couldn’t place where he knew her name from or why his insides twisted at the timbre of her voice.
“Cassian,” he replied dumbly. His hand ran through his long hair as he chuckled. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of sorts. I’m Detective Cassian Sidra of Arizona. Came with a few of my colleagues to track down a bastard who’s been murdering his girlfriends.”
“And you expect to find him, where, exactly? Here in Velaris? In this house where my sisters and I live alone? In this closet? Because I promise you, he’s not in this jar of toad’s foot, but you’re more than welcome to take a closer look.” She shoved it towards him. “What’s the verdict, detective ? Any luck?”
“No, ma’am,” he said lowly, nearly embarrassed at her teasing. Nesta scoffed, beginning to empty carefully measured ingredients into the noxious mixture. Cassian inched closer to the table. “We only came to make sure it didn’t happen to your sister.”
“I can take care of my sisters just fine, thank you.”
“I’m sure you can,” he replied honestly. Something shiny caught his gaze high up on the wall—an ancient sword, likely of viking descent and gilded in the details. “ Shit, is that what you protect her with?”
The strangeness of this woman, his absurd attraction to her, had filled his mind with a thick fog that stripped him of his reason. His natural detective instincts had to fight tooth and nail to claw to the surface of that fog to ring some very important alarm bells. Cassian tore his gaze away from Nesta, realizing he’d had it fixed on her lips, and forced himself to look at the facts: Man murders his girlfriend. Man suddenly needs new girlfriend because the old one is branded and dead in motel room. Man finds a new girlfriend, but hits her and scares her so that she flees back home to her sisters. Man goes missing. Girlfriend happens to have a very scary sister who hangs swords on the wall and brews mysterious potions in a potion.
Yep, Cass said to himself. Sounds about right.
He inched closer to the table, noticing how Nesta stiffened, but continued stirring her concoction and muttering strange words beneath her breath.
“What is this?”
Nesta paused her stirring, eyes sharp.
“I’m pleading the fifth,” she deadpanned.
“I don’t know if this looks like a courtroom to you, but you’re not on trial. I was just curious.”
Nesta filled her wooden spoon with the bizarre elixir and brought it to her nose. She drew in a deep breath, assessing if her handiwork had turned out in her favor. Deciding it had, she began to fill a small vial with it, the solution turning oddly sappy and brown as it hit the glass. A thoughtful hum hit against her tight lips.
“I doubt you know many witches in Arizona, so you may not know—people hate us. They conspire ways to scare us off, make us move to some other small town to terrorize other people instead. I’ve seen people cover their children’s eyes and flick holy water into the yard, but you know what, detective?”
“I couldn’t possibly guess.”
“They need us. In their darkest hours, they’ll run through lightning and downpour to come begging on our doorstep, ‘ Archeron sisters, the man I love married another and I’m about to die of heartbreak.’ Or ‘My wife cheated on me with my best friend and I want them turned into warty toads.’ We’ve heard it all. But in this case…” She gestured down to the steamy brew. “Someone just needs a little help sleeping.”
Cassian considered this, sifting out the tiny bits of truth from the lies.
“I do think you ladies have it tough here sometimes,” he admitted. His palms slid onto the table and Nesta narrowed her eyes. “But I don’t think that’s just some strong Melatonin. I think you’re planning on giving that to me and my friends to keep us from asking questions.”
Nesta did not fold like he expected her to. She merely shoved the corked concoction into her pocket and gave a terrifying smile.
“If I wanted to keep you from asking questions. I would’ve either kicked you out or…” she nodded up toward the wall. “I would’ve let you play with the sword.” Cassian’s ear quirked, like an animal catching wind of something fun in the woods.
“You’d let me try it?”
“You can try now if you like.”
Cassian held back a mannish giggle as he very carefully reached up for the blade and adjusted his grip on the hilt. It was a perfect fit, almost as if the weapon had been forged for his hand, his strength. He tossed it from his right hand to the left, examining the weight and craftsmanship as the metal gleamed in the warm light. Then, all at once, he paused. She just said she’d let him test out the sword to keep him from asking questions, and here he was! Sword in hand and no questions in sight. He pointed the tip at Nesta, staring down the blade at her.
“Miss Archeron, are you hiding Tamlin Angelov?”
“Not in this house.”
The blade reflected light directly into her eye and she scowled, knocking it away. But Cassian had one last question before he’d be satisfied.
“Did you or your sisters kill Tamlin Angelov?”
Nesta gave an amicable smile that looked downright deadly at the edges and replied, “Oh yeah, a couple of times.”
It was a sarcastic response, but Cassian’s instincts droned inside of him like a thousand bees—over and over telling him, She’s telling the truth! She means what she says! So he placed the sword back on its holder and returned that sickly sweet smile at her.
“I think you’ll find, Miss Archeron, that lying to me is not in your best interest.”
She only shrugged, his intimidation tactic having as much effect on her as a snarling kitten.
“I wasn’t lying at all,” she said.
There it was—the admission that could very well merit an old fashioned “Nesta Archeron, you are being arrested for the murder of Tamlin Angelov. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of…” Cassian bit the inside of his cheek. Did he want to put this woman away? No, he realized, he didn’t. He didn’t even want to bring her in for further questioning. He opened up his mouth to make some stupid confession that if she told him the truth, he would consider helping her. But before he could, a pearly voice called from the kitchen, “The food is ready!”
He should’ve stopped Nesta from leaving, should’ve gotten her to say more. But like the fool he was, Cassian cupped his hand over his lips and answered, “Coming!”
*
Rhys had lost Feyre three times in the greenhouse already, which he thought was just a little ridiculous since the whole room was the size of his closet back home. One minute, he’d be examining some massive fern beside her, and the next, she was gone. He needed to bring her back somehow, keep her within sight before he went crazy from the chase.
“What’s this one?” he asked, finger trailing beneath the downturned purple flower. Matching berries were close by, grazing his hand.
“Belladonna,” Feyre replied from close by, but Rhys had to search a second longer than he wanted to before she reappeared beside him. “The name literally means ‘beautiful lady’, but it’s called a lot of other things too. Deadly Nightshade. The Devil’s Herb. Herbe à la Mort. ”
Rhys wondered why the sisters even needed to grow such a plant when there was a deadly, beautiful woman following him around the greenhouse, fascinated with his every move.
“What’s it do?” he swallowed.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Feyre almost purred. She met his gaze from under lined lashes. “ Don’t eat it.”
“You keep something like that in the house?” he chuckled nervously.
“Why not? There are no children in the house. Bryaxis knows better than to eat anything in here—tried it once as a kitten. Didn’t go so hot.” She found a pair of crystal handled scissors and trimmed a few blossoms away, dropping them into a nearby basket. “My sisters and I are trained to know exactly what everything in this room is and what it does. For example, I know exactly how much of this,” she waved a flower around, “can put a man to sleep and how much can kill him.”
If she was laying down her trap, he walked straight into it and could not find it in himself to care.
“Have you ever...put that to practice?”
“Have I ever killed a man? No.”
“Have you ever put one to sleep?”
Feyre cocked a brow and handed him a different flower that he was fairly certain was just lavender. He pressed it into his breast pocket as she answered, “Are you doubting my abilities, Rhys?” His mouth grew dry. “What? Hoping for a demonstration?”
Blow me backwards, Rhys swore silently, his mind filling to the brim with a thousand different images of Feyre “demonstrating.” In fact, his quiet curse was one of them. As if he could will all the blood to stay in his head, he clenched his fists and pressed his lips together.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Feyre. I need to know what happened the last time you saw Tamlin Angelov.”
She frowned, as if she much preferred their flirting over whatever memories his question had drudged up. Eyeing him with distaste, she said, “I told you what happened. He hit me, I left.”
“Where?”
“Oregon.”
“Why was he there?”
“What do you mean why was he there? He lived there.”
“He lived in Arizona where he murdered three women. But we’ve checked his Arizona address and his Oregon address—Florida, Texas, Wisconsin, you name it. If he’s been there, we’ve looked.”
“Well, now you’ve looked here so if you’ll excuse me—”
“I don’t think you understand how serious this is,” Rhys pressed, standing back up and taking her by the shoulders. She jolted, and he immediately dropped his hands at his side like touching her had burned him. After taking a deep breath, he continued, “Tamlin doesn’t just let girls get away. So either you’re lying to me and you are hiding him. Or you’re telling the truth and you’re his next target. Either way, I can’t help you unless you let me. If you tell me the truth, then I will make sure no one harms you. No man, no jury.”
Feyre considered this, her eyes drifting off in the direction of the kitchen were Elain was flipping pancakes. Rhys saw guilt there. Shame. Even stomach churning hatred. But when she turned back to him, it all disappeared, leaving behind a very faint hint of trust.
“Tamlin won’t hurt me ever again,” she promised slowly. Rhys froze, elbows on his knees and hands trembling.
“Won’t… Or can’t?”
Feyre’s lips had formed around her answer when Elain poked her head in. She took in the tense sight before her, then quickly pretended she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary at all.
“Just wanted to let you know breakfast is done!” she said cheerfully, a bit forced. Then, to Rhys she said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Did you know Lucien can flip pancakes in the air? Is that some crazy Arizona thing?”
“Cassian and I have been the very privileged recipients of his breakfast cooking,” Rhys replied politely, tight lipped.
Elain shrugged through a clumsy laugh. “Crazy, huh?” she said before disappearing.
When Rhys turned back to Feyre, the horror on her face nearly matched the “Scream” print hanging in the hallway, her hands holding her cheeks like her head would topple off her shoulders. She didn’t quite look up to meet his eyes when she muttered, “He can flip pancakes in the air.” Something shuddered inside Rhys. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she was...reciting it. Feyre shot to her feet, scurrying over to one of the drawers hiding underneath the giant leaves of a potted fern.
“Oh my god, oh my—shit.” She rifled through the dusty contents of the drawer until she retrieved a notebook, one that probably belonged to a child judging by its Barbie pink sequins and silly design. Feyre peeled it open as if it were some ancient religious text. When she found what she was looking for, she swore again. “Here it is. ‘He’ll hear my call a mile away. He can flip pancakes in the air. He’ll have molten colored hair and one brown eye and one gold...’ Quick, Rhys, what color are Lucien’s eyes?”
A confused cough rumbled up his chest as he replied, “Lucien’s? Ah, well, people always say they’re two different colors. The left one is blind, though. Can’t remember exactly what color they are but—Where are you going?”
Feyre was on her feet and out the door before the words had finished echoing off the glass windows. Rhys was only two steps behind her as she rushed through the house.
“ Nesta! ” she cried, trying—and failing—to keep her voice casual. But when Feyre found her sisters, they were already outside sitting around a picnic table. The lacy tablecloth was already made with the aunt’s old china, and in the middle sat a tall pile of star-shaped pancakes. To her apparent horror, Nesta was pouring a generous helping of maple syrup all over Lucien’s plate. Feyre seemed to forget that she had an audience at the table, but it was Rhys who remained in hearing distance when Feyre yanked her sister by the collar and dragged her over by the lilacs.
“Did you put the tonic in the maple syrup?” Feyre rushed out. Elain came to their sides, trying not to appear as frantic as her nervous eyes revealed she was. Nesta didn’t answer as she met Rhys’ eyes over Feyre’s shoulder. “ Nesta, answer me. Have they eaten it?”
Nesta met her sister’s gaze, frustrated. “Yes, about the maple syrup! No, they haven’t eaten it yet. What’s the problem?”
Feyre opened up that childish notebook and pointed frantically at the pages.
“This! This is the problem!”
Elain took one long moment to read her old handwriting—the hearts that dotted each of her “i’s”, the shakiness of the letters as they swirled about the page. Then her gaze was on Lucien. She took in the long hair tied at the back of his neck and that one blind eye had glimmered as if it were gilded with ancient gold. The weight of her detective’s kindness seemed to settle in her chest, and she spared no glance to her sisters when she came up at his side.
A forkful of pancakes was inches from his lips, but when she laid her hand on his shoulder, he froze. The speared pancake tumbled back to his plate, forgotten as he peered up at Elain. She grabbed Lucien’s plate first, then Cassian’s, and at last said softly, “Don’t eat that.”
Rhys watched the color drain from Lucien’s face, who stiffened in his chair as if he’d just spun out on an icy road. Elain stacked the plates, ever the perfect hostess, and placed the syrup dispenser on top of all the plates. She sniffed it with a scowl, detecting whatever horrible things her sister had poured into it. But Lucien gave her the benefit of his doubt, much to Rhys’ surprise, and asked, “Why not? We went to all the trouble of making it.”
“The syrup has gone bad,” she lied easily. “It’s from last season. I forgot to take it from the fridge before it began to spoil. I’ll bring you a fresh plate and the powdered sugar. That is, if you’d still like to stay.”
She sounded so hopeful, but Rhys had already made up his mind when he stepped forward.
“Actually, we’re leaving,” he called out.
“What?” Lucien and Cassian snapped at the same time. Cassian shot up so quickly it shook the table. “Why?”
Rhys crossed his arms, trying to decide how much he wanted to announce right at this very second. If he divulged just how leery he was of these sisters, who was to stop them from packing up and hiding somewhere else in this god forsaken country? They could take Tamlin with them and then where would he and his friends be? Out of a job, certainly. All because they couldn’t think without their dicks. If the Archeron sisters wanted to keep their secrets, fine! They could. But Rhys would keep his secrets too.
“We’ve taken up too much of your time,” Rhys explained, so convincingly that the oldest sister narrowed her razor-sharp eyes. “You all have been very patient answering our questions for us, but I’m afraid we’re about to be late for a conference call with our IT guy back in Arizona. He’ll get pissed if he makes that long distance call and we aren’t there to answer it.”
Feyre mirrored Rhys’ stance, her arms wrapping around her middle as she frowned.
“Are you sure? Looks like your pancake flipper made too many for just the three of us.”
A soul deep ache in Rhys’ chest beckoned for him to stay, but he managed to shake his head and wave over his friends. Lucien complied, not because Rhys was his boss, but because there was a years-forged respect lingering between the two of them. If Rhys’ instincts were telling him to leave, if Lucien got an inkling that Rhys had learned something, he’d follow without questioning it. Rhys only had to make sure leaving would be worth Lucien’s while, or else he’d give him shit about it later.
Cassian followed because Lucien did, his brows furrowed in concern and a hint of frustration. All that seeped away when something small and shiny caught his eye in the grass. Rhys tried to glean what it was, but Cass had it caged in his hands before the sisters could notice he’d taken anything.
“Thank you for your hospitality and have a nice day,” Rhys called to the sisters as the others fell into step beside them. The Archeron girls only waved, that strange magic emanating even more strongly as the three stood together.
The detectives were halfway to the inn when Cassian finally unfurled his hand. There, rolling around in the calluses of his palm, was Tamlin Angelov’s ring. The one he’d heated with a lighter and pressed into those he strangled the life out of. The one that had been on his hand at all times, no matter where he went.
“Well fellas, at least we know one thing,” Cass breathed out darkly. “Tamlin Angelov is at that house. We just have to get him to show his face and we’ll finally have that bastard in our clutches.”
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Surprises (15)
There are a few of you who have changed urls so please do check previous chapters first if you have!! Lucien is back in this, I had thought he had a part like two chapters ago? But going back I might have deleted his scene😬
Warnings: There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will update warnings as I go if needed.
Surprises Masterlist.
Full Masterlist.
Enjoy a Captain Swan gif because it fits I guess?:)
—————
Everything was white, why the fuck was everything so white?
Azriel felt blinded by being in such a bright room and there was an annoying beeping that he wished would just stop. His whole body ached and he groaned in pain trying to lift his body but then there was a hand gently pushing his shoulder down, and a voice that sounded like goddamn heaven.
“I don’t think so, mister, you keep your butt where it is.” Blinking a few times, he turned his head to the sound of that beautiful voice and saw Elain standing next to him with tears in her eyes. Panic set in at the thought of her being upset and he wanted nothing more than to hold her.
“W-why are you crying baby? What’s wrong?” There was deep laughter from somewhere across the room and a sharp pain shot through his neck with how fast his head moved. Cassian was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, one arm in a sling and he now had on a pair of shorts which exposed a thigh wrapped in bandages. Nesta was on his other side, holding the hand of his good arm, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth.
“You were just in a major car accident, you expect your girl to be all sunshine and roses about it?”
Fuck the car accident. It all rushed back to him at once, the laughing and pestering and then a shout and finally darkness. Cass had shouted about a truck just as Rhys was-“Oh god. Rhys where is Rhys?”
“He’s alright. He was allowed to go home, so we sent him back with Feyre to rest. They’re both on the way back now.”
He finally forced himself to sit up, hating the way Elain’s eyes went wide in fear and so he took her hand and squeezed to let her know it was alright, but as his legs shifted, that’s when he felt it. All of the breaths in his lungs left him in one go, and he knew something bad when all of the eyes in the room watched him, so full of pain. Azriel closed his eyes once more as he gripped hid blankets tightly in a fist before flinging them away from him. All he did was stare and stare at that empty space where his lower left leg should be, before finally reaching for it with a hand, letting out a sound that was foreign to his ears. He vaguely recognised the shuffling of chairs and the click of a door as a small gentle hand covered his own. When he turned back to Elain, her lips were curved in a soft and slightly pained smile, pain for him.
“What happened to my leg Ellie?” He said it as a whisper because that’s all he could manage, scared that if he tried to say it louder, say something more, then he’d break down but he was determined not to look weak in her eyes. Her free hand came up and into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp that felt oh so good and comforting.
“The car overturned from the impact and crushed the front of the car. Rhys and Cass managed to get out and they tried to get to you as well but they couldn’t. Your leg had been crushed for too long, the doctors told your mom that there was nothing they could do, other than remove it.” Her hand in his hair never stopped once and for that he was grateful, because no, matter how hard he tried to stop himself, he broke right then and there in that hospital room.
“How can you still stand there and look at me like that? I’m missing a fucking leg Elain, I’m not me anymore. I won’t be able to do certain things anymore and hell, what the fuck is our little girl going to do when she asks daddy to do something and I can’t do it! I didn’t want this life for us! Now you’re going to be stuck with a cripple and a baby, I won’t put you through that.”
Azriel watched as her face turned from gentle and soothing to angry and hateful in a second, taking her hands off and away from him and stepping back from his bedside.
“Screw you, you fucking asshole. How dare you make up my own mind for me? How dare you think that I wouldn’t love you anymore because of how you look? If you don’t want me anymore then fine, I’ll save you the hassle of trying to end it.” No, no, no. Shit, fuck.
“Ellie...” He tried to say something, anything, but the words got stuck in his throat and so he had to watch as she stormed to the door of his hospital room without even looking back. He’d heard the sound of the door clicking earlier but now, now it was an awful sound and he never wanted to hear it again. It was like a dagger to the heart and he fucking hated himself. The best thing to ever happen to him and he blew it, just like he knew he would. He promised he wouldn’t hurt her again, promised her that he’d try harder, that no matter what he’d stay by her side.
Now all there was to do was sit there and wallow in his own self pity, knowing he’d most likely not be able to win her back this time.
oOoOo
Sitting in that waiting room, Cassian had given his story of the crash to the cops, every last detail that he could think of, everything that might be useful. And then it was Rhys’ turn. Nesta, Feyre and himself sat there and listened, Feyre moving straight to Nesta once he had started. He hadn’t a clue why she looked as worried as she did so until he’d heard Rhys’ story. Even now just as his brother was giving the last few key points, he was still in shock. Weylan Archeron, his girlfriend’s fucking father, was the one that had run them off of the road. Nesta had retreated inside herself when she’d heard it, that blank look taking over her face. It had taken him so long to find her under that prickly exterior and he’d be damned if he let her asshole father destroy how far she had managed to come.
The cops were just shaking hands and thanking them for their help when the door to Azriel’s room opened and Elain came storming out, tears streaming down her cheeks and her hand cradling that wonderful little baby bump. Cassian watched as Nesta’s face went from blank to furious and she made to go either after her sister or into his brother’s room to unleash hell, but he put his hand on her arm to stop her. “Easy sweetheart, I’ve got this one.”
He stood on shaky legs and limped down the hall that Elain had run down, asking a few nurses if they had seen where she went and ended up outside where the girl was sitting on a wall with her hands covering her face. Her body shook with barely restrained sobs and she jumped when he sat beside her, bringing his hand over to rub her back. “Hey, what are all these tears for Lainy? Az is alright, you saw him.” She scoffed at that and gave a humourless laugh. Looks like his brother might have been an utter fucking idiot.
“He may be alright but according to him, he’s not good enough now. According to him, I couldn’t possibly want him anymore now that he’s like that. He assumed Cass, that I’m that much of a bitch, that I only like him for his looks. He doesn’t want me because ‘I’m stuck with a cripple and a baby. He won’t put me through that.’ What gives him the right to decide my feelings for me?” She was crying again now, hands shaking and he didn’t know what to do or how to help and so he pulled her into a hug. Her head was smushed into his shoulder and he would no doubt be left with tears and snot, but he didn’t care. Elain could do what she liked as long as it made her happy.
“I’ve got you, Lainy. I’m sure he didn’t mean it; he’s probably just in shock is all. And if he did mean it, then I’ll kick his ass, no one hurts my Lainy or my niece. Uncle Cass has got her, both of you.”
After a while the shaking stopped and her tears turned into sniffles and she tilted her head back to look at him. “Thank you.” It was gentle but broken whisper and Cassian hoped to whatever gods that were listening to make his brother see sense.
“How about I phone Lucien for you? You haven’t really been able to see him for a few days and I’m sure he’d like to see you. I’ll ask him to come get you and take you back to the house and the two of you can hang out there. Besides they want Az to stay overnight just to be sure and keep an eye on his leg.” Elain nodded before burying her head back into his shoulder and before he phoned Vanserra, he sent a quick text off to Nesta.
She’s all good, just a bit overwhelmed. I’m going to get Lucien to come get her and take her to the house. Love you.
-Cass
He and Azriel had been handed bad cards in life, ever since they were born but now, now was when everything was good for them. They both had amazing girlfriends who loved them unconditionally, there was a little one about to be added to the family and they were finally, finally happy. Of course one drunken asshole had to come along and possibly ruin everything his brother had ever hoped to have.
oOoOo
Elain was so tired, so goddamn tired that she felt as though she could sleep for a week. She felt utterly drained as she stepped through the door to Lys’ house. The woman had come out to give her one of the spare keys when she’d heard that Elain was leaving, telling her to eat, drink and do whatever she wanted and that if Lucien wanted to stay overnight to keep her company then he was more than welcome to. Lucien was behind her and she just knew his hands were braced in front of him as if he expected her to crash and drop from exhaustion. She had missed her best friend, truly, but with everything that was going on they just hadn’t had the time to hang out.
“Okay Lainy bear, Cassian said that his mother would like for me to cook you dinner. What do you feel like, and before you say ‘I’m not hungry’, you’re eating for two so this is me putting my foot down.” She rolled her eyes knowing that yes, she would have predictably said that in the past, but she wouldn’t do that to her little girl. That was the first thing he’d actually said other than the few greetings since he’d picked her up, and that didn’t sit too well with her.
“I’m not going to break you know, we can talk, you don’t have to be silent because you’re scared of saying the wrong thing.” He pushed a hand through those beautiful, long red locks- seriously, why does he get such nice hair and she gets a birds nest? –and gave a very loud sigh.
“I was just waiting for you to decide when you actually wanted to talk that’s all. And you’re also making that face, the one where you are so done with everyone’s shit, so how about we have some dinner and then you can sleep. I’ll stay up and get things ready for when the others come back. Yeah?”
Elain nodded and went into the kitchen with him to search for what to cook. They ended up choosing to do a chicken pasta bake with vegetables, something that would be easy to heat up later. It was effortless to move around each other after a few minutes, having done this a ridiculous amount of times before when they spent whole weekends together. Lucien sat there and watched her when they were done, making sure she finished her plate and then glared at her when she tried to clean up. Her best friend then even went as far as trailing her up the stairs, the overbearing mother hen. “I can walk up the stairs by myself.”
“I know you can.” She rolled her eyes but then froze in her place when they got to the top of the stairs. Lucien bumped into her back at the sudden halt in movement. “Ellie? Why have we stopped?”
“Um, I have to sleep in his room.”
“So? He’s your boyfriend and you’ve slept in the same bed before.”
Her eyes closed at the onslaught of words from their argument earlier hit her. “W-we had a bit of a fight at the hospital and now I don’t know what we are. I said I would save him the hassle of breaking up with me and stormed out, basically.” She tipped her head up to the ceiling, holding the tears at bay; she didn’t want to cry anymore, she was so tired of crying.
“Oh Elain, I’m sure it’ll be alright and he definitely wouldn’t want you to make yourself uncomfortable on the couch. You and the baby need sleep in a proper bed.” He was right, of course he was. She nodded and moved towards his room, she hadn’t actually been here since that party, the night that had changed everything. Images flashed through her mind as she opened the door, them laughing at a movie, her head on his shoulder, soft and warm lips, a painful pinching sensation and then pure bliss. Lucien told her he’d be right downstairs if she needed something and kissed her cheek before leaving again. She stripped out of her clothes, smelling of that too clean hospital smell. She debated what to wear to bed before giving in and pulling on one of Azriel’s t-shirts. Her body sank into that wonderfully soft bed, pulling the covers up and over her shoulders before closing her eyes. Everything smelt of him, comforting and just so fucking good, and her breaths turned ragged thinking about how worried she was that the worst had happened to him.
She loved him for the person he was, his caring and happy personality. Yes, he was beautiful and she’d be blind if she couldn’t see it but he was more than just his looks. If he could love her changing body, the stretch marks that were beginning to appear, the stomach that was no longer flat, then why did he think she wouldn’t love him all the same as he was now?
Eventually her exhaustion was too much, her eyes too heavy and she succumbed to sleep, a hand curved around her stomach. She hoped that Cassian’s was right, that Az was just in shock and that come morning, she wouldn’t have lost the person who meant the world to her and had given her something she hadn’t even known she’d wanted.
—————
Oh the pain, the angst how I love hate to give it to you😏 Want to be added/removed from the tags then just let me know:))
Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @elain-shadowsinger @verifiefangirl @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @fancyclodpaintercookie @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @silver-flames @queen-of-glass @bamchickawowow @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @kvi-arts @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s @courtofjurdan @junkiejosten10 @mu-si-ca-l @agem10 @harmonyindark245 @slightly-sane-fangirl @tanaquilpriscilla @starrynightsbooks @maastrash @kendarbahr @elriel4life @illyriangarbage @b00kworm @thewayshedreamed
#azriel x elain#elain archeron#azriel#elain x azriel#elriel#surprises#surprises fic#acotar fic#acotar#feyre archeron#rhysand#nesta archeron#cassian#lucien vanserra#angst#because im evil#a court of thorns and roses#my writing#my fic#haz writes#they make my heart do the ouchie#oopsies
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The Poison you call Love
Read on AO3
Rating: Explicit
Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Relationships: Azriel/Cassian/Lucien, Cassian/Lucien (ACoTaR), Azriel/Lucien (ACoTaR), (past) Lucien/Tamlin
Characters: Lucien Vanserra, Azriel (ACoTaR), Cassian (ACoTaR), Tamlin (ACoTaR)
Additional Tags: Friendship, or lack of really, Tamlin is mean but what is new, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, FYI some small Nesta hate if you squint, This is not a Nesta positive space, Smut in Ch. 2, bc i couldn't help myself, Threesome - M/M/M, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, mild dirty talk, Double Penetration
Language: English
Lucien knows that he'll never get peace if he doesn't clear things up with Tamlin.
So he tries, for both of them
The Spring Court is falling apart.
Lucien sees it the moment he arrives. The numerous roses and violets are slowly withering away; the previously green plains are a sick shade of yellow. The bark on the tall, rich trees is crumbling to dust. The stench of the dying nature is sickening; choking. Lucien almost gags from it. It’s unnaturally silent—not even a gust of wind. No laughing; no talking; no sign of people anywhere.
The Illyrian that winnowed him in notices it, too, his eyebrows raising. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks, laying a protective hand on Lucien’s lower back. “I’ll be fine, Cass,” the male answers, “I need to do this”
“For yourself or for him?”
“For both of us”
Cassian snorts but doesn’t push it further. He steps closer to Lucien, pressing his front to Lucien’s back, his hand moving from his back to his hip. His hot breath tickles the back of Lucien’s neck, as his hair is up in a braided crown. The movement speaks of intimacy and affection. Cassian closes his eyes and inhales Lucien’s subtle scent. “You don’t have to go alone,” he mutters, his lips ghosting on Lucien’s skin.
“Yes, I do”
“Az would never forgive me if I let you get hurt”
“Good thing I can take care of myself, then”
Cassian huffs a laugh, placing a light kiss on his collarbone before drawing back. “No more than twenty minutes,” he drawls. Lucien nods in answer and starts walking. Cassian’s eyes never leave him, his body forever tense. Lucien tries to ignore it but can’t help the unsure smile he throws over his shoulder. The hot air is burning against the Illyrian leathers, places sweat upon his brow. At least, that’s the excuse he makes for himself. He needs to do this, he reminds himself, he needs to bring closure to this whole affair. The mansion comes into view faster than he wants it to.
That is falling apart, as well—overgrown by ivy and roses and trees, the smooth walls almost gone. There is no beauty left in those roses; just cruelty. His steps falter slightly as he passes through the gates. All he can remember is the disappointment and disgust upon Tamlin’s face when he’d seen the Illyrian leathers the last time. What would he think now?
Lucien has told himself over and over again that he doesn’t care about what Tamlin thinks of him. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t worth it. He’s his own person and Tamlin won’t get to say what’s wrong with him and not. He won’t be ruled by misplaced loyalty and guilt. And still, he can’t get that face out of his mind. Can’t stop wondering how Tamlin will react. How disappointed he’ll be. How hurt he’ll be. Lucien’s mind keeps fighting itself.
Why should you care about Tamlin’s feelings? Because he was your only friend.
Why should Tamlin’s opinion matter to you? Because you used to care so much.
Why do you crave Tamlin’s approval after all this time? Because you used to love him.
The doors to the mansion are gaping wide. There’s a darkness within so strong that Lucien can’t see much. Lucien starts on the stairs, his hands shaking now. He can’t calm his nerves; nor his breath. He’s in panic. He’s about to turn. About to run back into Cassian’s arms and beg him to take him back to the Night Court—back to Azriel. He takes one, small step back before his resolve turns to stone again.
He won’t let himself run away now. If he doesn’t do it now, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to. So he slows his breath, clenches his hands into fists, and starts walking again. He walks through the doors and into the dark abyss. Lucien never really noticed before, but the constant scent of roses and green; the constant green and red and pink, is choking and it washes over him in waves. He speeds up his walk, wants to find Tamlin before it drowns him.
Lucien reaches the throne room far too early for his liking. He pushes the door open and steps inside. The throne room is overgrown, much more than the rest of the court. He swallows and forces his eyes to go to the other male in the room. Tamlin is lounging on his throne, his eyes lazily moving from whatever he was looking at, to Lucien. He looks broken. His eyes are rimmed red; his clothes are ruffled; his posture is lazy and sloppy, so unlike the Tamlin Lucien is used to. Lucien’s throat dries up. A long silence stretches between them. “Tamlin,” he says, his voice raspy.
Tamlin doesn’t answer for a long time, his face in a mask of contempt. “Fox,” he finally drawls, and it makes Lucien’s breath catch. He doesn’t know how to continue the conversation, so he just stands there, holding Tamlin’s gaze. Tamlin is the one to break it, his eyes trailing Lucien’s body; his clothes. “Come here to show your new allegiance?” he spits, and it takes all of Lucien’s restrains to not sigh. “You know, it’s cruel of you, to come crawling back when you’re obviously too good for the Spring Court now”
Lucien takes a deep, shaky breath. “Tamlin, I just want to talk. Clarify things,” he says, taking a few steps forward. “Of course, you do,” the other male answers, “There’s nothing to clarify, fox. You left me. You left me for Rhysand and his court. You fled with Feyre to…”
“Because Feyre offered me kindness, Tamlin,” Lucien interrupts in a growl, suddenly angry, “A kindness you hadn’t shown me in a very long time”
“Why Rhysand?” Tamlin raises from his throne, his voice laced with desperation. “Why did you choose him?”
“It wasn’t just him,” Lucien mutters, his eyes finding the floor. It takes Tamlin one beat of silence to understand. “The Illyrians?” he asks, quiet now. Lucien can only offer a small nod.
After the war with Hybern, he’d struggled to find his place in the Night Court. After some time, he’d given up trying to build a relationship with Elain. It just wouldn’t work out. He’d skirted around the outside of Rhysand’s Inner Circle, not trying to fit himself in but not trying to shove himself out, either. He’d accepted the position of emissary without thinking much about it, just going along with what everyone else wanted from him. Then Azriel had started paying attention to him. Small conversations and fleeting touches and long looks.
It had woken something in him. A need for being appreciated. A need for being wanted. In the short weeks that Ariel’s attention had been on him, he’d senselessly fallen in love with the Illyrian male. He’d become hyperaware of Azriel’s every action around him. Every touch; every glance; every goddamn time he licked his lips. And then, one night, Azriel had kissed him and his world had shifted. And then, after some time, Cassian had come tumbling into their arms—after he’d decided to stop wasting his time on someone who obviously didn’t deserve him.
Tamlin lets out a low laugh; vicious in its tone. “I never thought you would sink so low as to roll over and spread for low-born bastards.” Tamlin's sneer turns downright cruel. “Maybe you've been lower. Do they enjoy you on your knees?”
Hot, choking shame washes over Lucien's body before he can control it, his skin flushing red. He won’t let Tamlin win this; won’t let him see him stutter and blush. “If I remember correctly,” he says, keeping his voice cool, “You were the one who enjoyed that”
It was something he’d never admitted to anyone except Azriel and Cassian. Those years before Feyre; even before Amarantha. The times when Tamlin didn’t have anyone to take his sexual frustration out on except Lucien. And Lucien had let Tamlin have his way with him, like a fool in love. It had never been about feelings, as Lucien had tried to convince himself back in those days. Tamlin had beckoned him over for a quick fuck because that was the only thing Lucien had to offer him in terms of affection.
“How could I not?” Tamlin's expression hadn't faltered, not even for a second, “When you were so eager to please; like a bitch in heat”
If the scent hadn't given it away already, his words do. Tamlin is dead drunk. His words always turn hurtful when he drowns himself in liquor. Lucien can’t help the small flash of sympathy that rises in his chest. Tamlin’s in such a bad place, and he’d helped in bringing him to this place. But those words, the implications of them. “I was never your bitch,” he sneers. Tamlin just laughs in return. “Of course you were, fox. My personal little bitch”
“Tamlin.” Lucien feels like his voice is a weak whisper, not able to reach the other male completely. “You don't mean that”
Tamlin's eyes rake over his body, cold—but still hungry. Lucien stares back. A few years ago, that look would have made Lucien squirm in submission. Tamlin considers him for a moment before his eyes soften. Something in him breaks. “You're right,” he breathes, “I don't”
And there are tears sliding down his cheeks. “I gave you everything, Lucien—” the first time he’s used Lucien’s name “—I protected you and took care of you and I was your friend and you still left me. Why was I not good enough? Why did you and Feyre leave me? Why does everyone leave me?”
His voice raises at the end—angry; sad; heartbroken. “Tam.” Lucien tries to keep his tone soft, as he moves closer to him “Tam, it was never about you not being good enough. It was about you being too much”
Tamlin doesn’t react to his words, just stares him down with an ice-cold stare. So Lucien tries to continue. “You wanted to protect what you loved, I understand that, but…but you went too far. You can’t protect everyone on your own. You can’t try to control others in an attempt to keep them safe. I know you think you did the right thing, Tam, but to me and Feyre…it was like a prison. We needed a choice”
Tamlin startles, his eyes going unfocused. “I—I never meant to…”
“But you did.” Lucien can’t help his quick response. He so desperately wants Tamlin to understand, but with the state he’s in…he doesn’t know if he’ll reach through. Tamlin’s face twists in anger before going unfocused again. He takes deep breaths and by the time he’s finished calming himself down, Lucien has come to a stop right in front of him. “Tam.” His voice breaks. The male in mention shifts his attention back to Lucien. He reaches out and brushes a few stray strands of hair from Lucien’s face, letting his fingers trail down to his cheek. “I hope they treat you right—those Illyrians,” he whispers, “You were always too good for me”
Now, Lucien’s cheeks are streamed with silver, as well.
“Leave,” Tamlin continues, “I need to be alone”
And so Lucien does.
Read Chapter 2 HERE
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acomaf#a court of mist and fury#acowar#a court of wings and ruin#lucien vanserra#azriel#cassian#tamlin#luzriel#acotar fic#acotar fanfic
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Lucien and Feyre- On Toxic Relationships, Abuse, Manipulation, and Friendship.
“I had not forgotten that long-ago fight he’d picked with Lucien. The warning he’d given him to stop flirting with me. To stay away. The fear that I’d preferred the red-haired lord over him and that it would threaten every plan he had. Back off, he’d told Lucien.” (ACOWAR)
I was rereading these earlier Spring Court chapters from ACOWAR the other night when I found this gem. It struck a chord with me. I’ve had two days since then to mull it over and these are my conclusions, no matter how incoherent they are or how incoherently they are expressed or how much you agree with them, they are what I’ve kind of figured out.
This quote, if I were to point to any in Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses series, best sums up the relationship(s) between our main character Feyre Archeron, her best friend Lucien Vanserra, and her douche-bag ex Tamlin. It is messy and violent and petty and jealous and overbearing and manipulative and toxic and it’s really good for all fucking three of them that they all get out of it.
It’s a quote from the end of the fifth chapter. Feyre is slowly building a bomb with which she intends to blow the Spring Court sky high and part of her plan is using Lucien against Tamlin, using her best friend to make his best friend seethe with rage and doubt and suspicion and paranoia and make the dumb, stupid decisions that come along with that.
In the fourth chapter, she manipulates a religious ritual into declaring her a Holy Blessed Figurehead, specifically designed so that she and Lucien are surrounded in sunlight and imagery of goodness and pureness, and the others, who she hates, are simply. Not. “A knight before his queen,” Feyre describes it, and it’s meant to hurt Tamlin, to cause Tamlin pain. Feyre and Lucien, not Feyre and Tamlin.
In the fifth chapter, later that same night, Feyre scantily clads herself in a lacy nightgown, fakes a nightmare, then bolts out of her room to the room directly across from hers, Lucien’s. She distracts him, tells him she’s having nightmares of a shared trauma of theirs, while she leaves the door purposefully open and hides from Lucien that Tamlin has reentered the house. Lucien, naked from the waist up, hugs Feyre to comfort her because that’s what friends do when the other needs comfort: they provide it. Tamlin enters on an intimate moment, completely constructed by Feyre to look like either the end or the beginning of some level of intimacy, and he gets really jealous of Lucien because of the quote at the beginning of this essay and he storms out. Lucien, clueless Lucien, who is essentially married to Feyre’s sister, is the biggest victim here.
This happens again. And again. And again. In the early ACOWAR chapters: Feyre uses her closeness with Lucien against Lucien and Tamlin, and sets it up as Feyre + Lucien vs. Tamlin + Ianthe, completely without Lucien’s knowledge or consent. This. Is. Abuse. Abuse of Tamlin, perhaps, but mostly abuse of Lucien. Lucien, who is an enabler and a Fixer, yes, and also Feyre’s best friend who gave her her first fae weapon when she came to Prythian. Lucien, who desperately loves Feyre and is desperate to get back to Elain and desperately wants to save Prythian, and has been sexually, verbally, physically, and emotionally abused by different characters at different points in this series. Lucien, who goes with Feyre in chapter ten because he can’t go back.
And this bothers me! It bothers me that this is Feyre’s best friend, and she is manipulating Lucien to hurt Tamlin and because she is using Lucien to hurt someone Lucien loves, she is hurting Lucien. And he doesn’t really recognize it.
Feyre and Lucien’s relationship is complex, built upon the understanding that they understand each other and they want what’s best for the other. And they do want that, even if their ideas of “what’s best for each other” are completely and totally wrong. Feyre and Lucien hurt each other a lot in this series, from their fighting in ACOTAR, to Lucien’s desperate attempts to fix what is unfixable in ACOMAF because Lucien, for all his swaggering sarcasm and acerbic wit, does not actually like CONFLICT, to these early chapters in which Feyre stabs Lucien in the back over and over and over while hugging him and calling it love and he doesn’t even notice the blood pouring down his skin. Feyre doesn’t totally, either.
Feyre and Lucien are connected in ACOTAR by the fact that they both love Tamlin and are willing to do pretty much anything for him, even die for him, and then Feyre does die for Tamlin.
And then suddenly Feyre has done everything for Tamlin and what else can she do? Feyre can’t really handle this, not on top of the trauma and her newfound body and powers and Rhys, and she shatters apart and she shatters away from Tamlin. Lucien, seeing this, is terrified because again, Lucien, for all his swaggering sarcasm and acerbic wit, does not actually like CONFLICT and he tries to fix everything and put it all back in place. Tamlin, meanwhile, refuses to acknowledge that Feyre has shattered at all, that he has fractured his soul by letting Feyre and Lucien give up everything for him. Feyre has changed, Tamlin cannot meet this change, and so Feyre leaves. Tamlin shatters completely, and Lucien goes into the forest to find Feyre and then he goes into the cave with Ianthe because Tamlin can only perform the ceremony with Feyre he’s that broken, and then he tells Tamlin to go ahead and do the thing and make an alliance with Hybern, to get Feyre back, do literally anything if it means Feyre comes back and he does not have to see those shadow wings on her and he does not have to go into the cave with Ianthe next year.
(And just as a quick aside because I do not want to sell this short: TAMLIN ABUSES FEYRE AND LUCIEN FAR MORE AND FAR MORE PERMANENTLY THAT FEYRE AND LUCIEN EVER ABUSE EACH OTHER. Tamlin sexually abuses Feyre by forcing her to have sex with him [and yeah it’s not like rape rape but the sex is still without her consent and control] and Tamlin from what I can tell emotionally manipulates Lucien into having sex with a woman who has been sexually harassing him for. months. and that’s also sexual abuse and there is near constant emotional abuse of Lucien and Feyre by Tamlin throughout the first second and third books. I am aware of all of this and acknowledging it here and now because I’m not focusing on that: I’m focusing on two people who love each other and still end up hurting each other and doing morally bad things to each other and that is Feyre and Lucien because what Feyre did was fucked up even if we cheered her on and I can’t always root for Feyre because she does things like this.)
And that’s why everything happens: everything happened. Lucien says make the alliance with Hybern because he can’t live in a Spring Court without Feyre any more or less than Tamlin can, and that’s because Feyre left, which is because she died, which is because of Amarantha, which is because of a war 500 years ago that ended with the Wall being risen and Rhys and Tam becoming High Lords and Lucien being born.
So Feyre’s actions against Lucien bother me, because he doesn’t deserve her abuse any more than she deserved Tam’s. No one deserves what they reap exCEPT FOR IANTHE AND AMARANTHA AND HYBERN AND THE EVIL WONDER TWINSES THOSE SONS OF GODDAMN BITCHES CAN GO FUCKING FUCK THEMSELVES WITH HORSE-POWERED POGO STICKS-
Anyway.
And so we go back to the beginning and why I think it’s a good thing that the trio who were our heroes in the first book are separated and on different journeys by mid-way through the third.
Feyre’s off being a badass with Rhysand at her side, a male that loves her, all of her, and soothes her, and understands her, and if she asked for him to, would leave her and let her leave him. Feyre needs space to paint in. Feyre needs the calm stillness of the Night.
Tamlin is dealing with his own angst and his own shit by himself and I’m glad that in the end Sarah let him give Rhys the magic magic kernel of magic. I’m happy that he’ll get a shot at redemption, or at least of moving on from Feyre and accepting that they are no longer compatible and that to think otherwise is delusional and toxic and leads to the deaths of hundreds and thousands and millions.
Lucien has to be a hero. He can no longer simply be the one Feyre and Tam rely on, he has to be the one who saves the day and makes friends with weird cursed queens because he and his pseudo-wife aren’t ready to be married yet if that makes sense.
But just as Feyre and Tamlin, at the very end of the book, agree to coexist as far away from each other as possible and stop letting other people get hurt to hurt each other, I think Feyre and Lucien have a good shot of getting back to that friendship. Lucien is a member of the Inner Circle now, Lucien is Elain’s mate: Lucien’s fate always has been and always will be linked with Feyre Archeron and the Archeron sisters.
And I guess that’s what I feel about Lucien Vanserra and Feyre Archeron and Tamlin Who Is Still A Tool.
[ @propshophannah because I feel this needs to be addressed at some point.]
#lucien vanserra#feyre archeron#tamlin the tool#acotar#acowar#acomaf#unhealthy relationships#toxic relationships#frienship#cw: abuse#cw: manipulation#acotar meta#i hope this is semi coherent#everything is hybern's fault#character motivation#why characters do stupid shit#tramua#ptsd#ptsd recovery#i can't always root for feyre because of this#betrayal#betraying your friends#elain archeron#queen vassa#rhysand#feysand#bitch ianthe#amarantha#the king of hybern#horrible people
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Things that seriously bothered me about ACOWAR
Now don’t get me wrong I love SJM and I liked ACOWAR, but the more I linger on it the more stuff just frustrates me. It’s gotten to the point where I just get mad because I can’t stop thinking about them. So, without further ado, here are my critiques/complaints.
Get ready kids because here tf we go
- We never found out what kind of magic Mor has!!! Like are you kidding me? She’s named The Morrigan but we never find out why. Her magic is intrinsic to her character and yet was left out. There was all this hinting and it just came to nothing.
- Elain and Nesta never apologised for how they treated Feyre for goddamn years and yet here I am supposed to like these two people and care about them. Like no thanks.
- Not only that but they never had to deal with real consequences of their actions. Sure, they were kidnapped and turned into fae but that would’ve happened anyway because of Feyre’s relationship with Tamlin/Ianthe.
- I need a reason as to why Nesta loves Elain so so so so much and was a fucking bitch towards Feyre for so long. Feyre was the baby of the family. And I don’t take Feyre looking like their dad as an excuse. Nope. Not good enough.
- Lucien having a bloody last name. And then even better, Cassian teasing her about it when WE LITERALLY DON’T KNOW THE LAST NAME OF ANY FUCKING CHARACTERS RHYS INCLUDED AND HE HAS A GODDAMN POV. Give all the names or none of them.
- Speaking of said POV, was it really necessary?? Was it really needed to break out of Feyre for that minuscule part at the end?
- Remember that time Feyre had a namesake that seemed like it would become important? Yeah me neither since it was never mentioned again.
- I feel there was no real sacrifice made.
- The reunion scene just wasn't good fam. There was no slow burning passion like in acomaf, and (this one is probably more opinion) it was just a bit too animalistic.
- Feyre being concerned about the bond showing her scent but never just asking Rhys if it would or not?? Like pretty sure he would bloody know. And was she really planning on being there that long that it would become an issue? I think not.
- Her father (another character without a bloody name) just comes out of bloody no where and it’s so sudden and stupid and ugh I need backstory. I need an explanation. This one I will admit though could be cleared up with a novella.
- Speaking of hearing more story, WE NEEDED TO SEE THE OUROBOROS SCENE. THAT WAS SO IMPORTANT, AND WOULD HAVE BEEN A GREAT CHANCE FOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. There were so many scenes that just did not need to be in the book (VANSERRA I’M LOOKING AT YOU) that could have been sacrificed so that this could’ve been included.
- I love SJM, but I’m just gonna say it. ACOWAR didn’t need to be that long. There, I said it. I’m going to go crawl into a pit now.
- Jurian, Miryam and Drakon take time out of fighting a goddamn war full of their soldiers dying to have a chat. Probably not the time for it dare I say.
- I’m just gonna say it again, but there was no real sacrifices in this book. Sure, Rhys died, but he came back five minutes later. Go full V Roth or go home. (Just kidding love you Rhys) (but like actually tho)
- Now this is a weird one but bear with me, there is literally so many ellipses in this book. Go open to a random page. 9/10 there’s probably one or multiple there.
- There’s going to be conjecture on this one but I think there was too much smut. Now God know’s I’m here for it, but a lot of it just didn’t serve a purpose in ACOWAR. Like any scene that is written, there needs to be a reason for it. Maybe it would’ve been okay if the book wasn’t as long, but it was huge and it just didn’t need to be.
- We are made to believe that the fae are immortal, right? And yet Feyre comments about how she meets a fae that has aged. So are they just creatures that age really really slowly?
- That dumbass death bargain. Did they even think? What if one of them dies and they don’t have an heir or someone to leave Velaris to. You don’t get to choose your closest relative, and Rhys could just as easily pass his powers to Keir then he could Mor or literally any one else. And going with the above point on how ageing works, does this mean that Feyre could prematurely die hundreds of years before she should?
- As my final point, I’m just going to say her editor really let her down on this one. Her deadline should’ve been longer, had more revisions and plotting/workshopping, and she needed to have a tighter leash when it came to a word count.
And as I said before, I did like ACOWAR!! I just felt like it needed a bit more refinement. I still gave it 5/5 stars, I will still read anything in this world that I love so much with the characters that I adore.
I might add some more later, these are just the ones I can remember right now.
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Another alternative Effloresce pov. Azriel, as the slow moving shitshow train wreck his life is is quickly becoming a fast moving shit show train wreck.
I cannot tell you how much I love this one!
So, I would say across all my fics Azriel is a character who is the most consistent? Especially since almost all of them were written before acosf TERRIBLY let us in his actually creepy little headspace, and I've additionally chosen to keep my made up shadowman as he is.
Effloresce Az is basically Starlight Az but SADDER. He's Daylight Az without a kiddo and husband, Shoreless Sea Az without the absolutely beneficial retirement, and man is he TIRED.
You're Azriel, and your job sucks. Your inborn skillset leaves you zero other options, and you know this. It's better to be the left hand of power than in a cell for life, but you know what? Sometimes you can only do so goddamn much.
You're Azriel and that's kind of all you've got. You're one of a kind, literally. Alone forever in that. But you love Cassian. You play the little games with Mor for harmony. You respect- alien, ancient, different, probably what you'll feel like in a thousand goddamn years if you live that long- Amren.
You see the good in Rhysand, limited as it is to personal things, but you also see the vast potential for failure.
You see him listening to this CHILD OF A GIRL- who seems nice, yeah. You're worried about her, frankly. The Courts of Prythian revived her and will not just let that go- but that doesn't mean you think she has, shall we say, good ideas.
You watch Cassian spend days arguing against this.
You rock up over the wall and realize these two mortal, innocent women have probably been taken captive by Spring. Your orders are a mistake, you have a war to fight that has nothing to do with these people, but you're here, and you might as well do some good.
You move to neutralize the threat.
Lucien Vanserra does not act like a vassal of Spring. No, not even at Autumn prince. You can drown fire in the dark, but you can't swallow the sun or an ocean of flame without end.
That doesn't matter either, because this determined little slip of blond sunshine just fucking stabbed you. And for the first time in maybe decades, you just want to laugh. You've fucked up, clearly, but you're okay. (You can live through so much worse than letting a human woman stab you to feel safe.)
You hear Cassian coming, and you know.
It doesn't matter what Feyre is saying. Has said. You're Azriel and you can't not know or not hear- she's wrong or she lied. You have a High Lord sweating blood to protect a stunningly, dangerously charming woman and you have her sister, who feels less like delight and more like a dream.
You're a shadowsinger, whose providence is secrets and these two woman are shrouded.
You're fucked, essentially.
You know they're not really human.
You know they're hiding, and Feyre is going to break that right open if Rhysand has his way, no matter how many times you point out that the Queens want nothing to do with Prythian's fae.
You're Azriel, and you've always been smart enough to stay quiet when you have no orders forcing you to do otherwise. You're polite. You're frankly, horrified. You have no idea what to do with the Archeron sisters acting like you're nothing to be afraid of.
You know, before Cassian knows, that every wind that has ever carried him had lead him right here.
(You remember what that felt like. The fear, the euphoria. You were young and stupid enough to consider it simple rightness, your extra senses on your side, pulling you toward the correct choice in fealty. You didn't know what it was until too late. You didn't know and you never even got to know or got to mourn. You didn't have the right to mourn a girl dead too soon, who would have never been anything but your queen had she grown old enough to wear a crown.)
(Dead before the start, just like you.)
You decide, immediately, you cannot let what happened to you happen to Cassian. Nesta Archeron might be a compelling power, might be a fighter with ash in her hair and a cunning mind, but Shahar was a High Lady born. Not even that could save her.
You understand the instant way you like Elain is magic, whether she knows it or not. (She does not). Real affection follows quickly, you are, despite all magic to the contrary, as Illyrian as Cassian. You cannot not know. You like Nesta too- if only for her ferocity. Her bleeding, present fury.
They treat you like a person.
Fearlessly.
Easily.
You watch as their sister breaks their hearts, cracks already laid. You watch Rhysand act more and more territorial, and of course you know why too. You watch Lucien Vanserra safeguard the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of humans and you understand this, here, is a Court too.
A better one.
You quietly, a secret, kill their father.
You bind yourself in blood to a favor, and use it to unshackle the Archeron bloodline and their vassals from the Queens.
You watch Nesta Archeron kneel in the snow, watch Elain Archeron pull a knife on a High Lord of Prythian over human lives, and think, with dread and barren exhaustion, you're making the right choice.
The hard choice.
(How many noncombatants died in Sangravah? In every city Amarantha occupied? How many servants in the Hewn City every year? How many Illyrian children in the starving north? How many deaths were Azriel's fault, because Rhysand didn't care?)
(The Archerons would rather die with their people than live. Were educating their maids. Sending their kitchen boys to university. Taking in the orphans of other estates, having never forgotten what it was to be forgotten, hungry and alone.)
You're Azriel, and you can't not know how badly this is going to hurt.
#FAST MOVING TRAIN WRECK AHOY#I only covered what's posted because the next chapter is truly#THE BONES OF MY SOUL IN MY HANDS THE WORLD ON FIRE AND I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO GIVE BUT MORE DEATH#from Az's POV#he takes finding Shahars remains NOT WELL#plus you know#the war kickstarts#Cassian continues to act basically insane in a good way#And Nesta and Elain just keep raising the goddamn bar he was trying to ignore even existed#The Shahar stuff is actually really important#he does not tell Rhys#EVER!#Bones are literally he closest he's ever going to come#they weren't in love#they didn't even know each other#HE DIDN'T KNOW UNTIL SHE DIED#and of course#Rhys made that entirely about himself#Az just. I think he likes Feyre in this impish way canon always wants Cassian to (but then Cassian put her on such a high altar it failed)#but also? is too deep in the shit of it all#not to be like: she's a really powerful symbol#but she shouldn't be in charge????
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Timeloop au snippet
“Honestly,” Lucien murmured, soft bird song painting the air like colors existed that weren’t silver, like he’d been thinking about beauty or wonder or anything but her living, this glorious, quiet place he’d brought her, “I have nowhere to go.”
No point in lying to her.
No doubt she’d see through him.
Even wet, even rasped from her throat, Nesta’s laugh had a sting to it. “Bullshit. You’re heir to three Courts. You’re the only faery of any rank the humans will treat with.”
Just Lucien and Jurian, trying to help with what had only been harm for so long Lucien let every insult, every horror, slide right off him.
“Not so much,” Lucien admitted. “Not anymore.”
“Anymore what, Vanserra?” She’d gone sharp, suddenly, stillness a razor edge.
“They tried to kill me,” Lucien sighed. Breathed. How could he blame them? Who was he to say that a thousand years of slavery didn’t deserve recompense? That Hyberns machinations had been repaid? Lucien was High Fae. It wasn’t the fault of mortals he’d tried to bury his own losses in a quest to help them. “A few times. I’m no longer welcome on the continent.”
“I’m not a project,” Nesta hissed, deathly. “Because you need something to do with your bleeding goddamn heart. I’m not going to fuck you. I’m not an Archeron you can have.”
You had to be a body, to bleed.
Lucien felt like more magic than person, most of the time. Caged in useless goddamn bones, had been so useless-
“Funny,” he admitted, hollow, honest heart pounding away, because he was just flesh and blood, fire and fervor, and he wasn’t ashamed but he was so, so, so tired, “I can’t fuck anyone.”
It unwound her, just a little.
“There’s potions for that.”
And just as sudden as she’d taken him off guard the first time, every time, forty eight insane hours and her devastating, endangered delight- Lucien laughed. “Not for losing your mind every time someone touches you.”
Nesta’s grip on his wrist disappeared so quickly it might not have existed at all. Might never had been, had Lucien not turned, looked up from the floor to her white, furious face, shadows beneath her eyes deeper than bruises.
“You’re fine,” Lucien murmured. “I”- he had to swallow. Stop. Breathe as he’d been teaching himself just to fucking breathe. Stop himself from saying something as deranged as the fact that a woman who’d drowned in his arms less than two nights ago felt absolutely safe, to him.
Lucien was a very fine liar, could manage most of the time, but Nesta- whirling in his arms, dying in his arms, stopping his fucking heart, all silver fire-
Nesta Archeron was something else entirely, and it was not the time or the place to even think it.
“I’ll tell you,” Lucien said, slowly. “And you tell me. Please.”
#part three hurts SO GOOD#something extremely important to me about them#is that they both see the potential in each other?#clearly#completely#and they totally accept everything else#that comes along with it because its THEM#ho boy we are going straight into the dark to hit the light#the contrast between different parts of the timeline is agonzing#and soooo important#Luciens life is canonically awful yall#he DID need several centuries where nothing mattered to figure himself out and just heal#even if he's...not super great at the timeloop#time still helps#magical intuition? in my Vanserra boys? yes#no grave can hold my body down#this chapter is going to be such a monster babes
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Starlight: Chapter 2
Lucien Vanserra was on fire.
No, he was fire. Lucien was the flame of the forest and bleeding red of the Hunters moon. He was the goddamn fire, not the pain, and he was going to burn the High Priestess of Spring to fucking bone if she didn’t stop touching him.
It was an effort, to open his eyes.
Inathe wasn’t even pretending to be looking over the freshly accumulated whip marks that rended muscle and skin down his back. Stroking his uninjured shoulder, the tips of her polished nails lingering, catching on the thin fabric of Lucien’s ruined shirt.
Lucien was going to cut off her fucking hands.
Read the rest HERE
@greerlunna @ribhinnog @clolikescloquetas @sunsummoner @empress-ofbloodshed @mireillemystique @superspiritfestival @skychild29 @rhyswhitethorn @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @city-of-fae
#THE DAYLIGHT PREQUEL/SEQUEL#babes#is it gay to look at a beautiful man covered in blood and decide to slaughter all his enemies??#save him from further familial pain?#HOLD HIM CLOSE SO HE DOESN'T GET COLD#BUY HIM DRINKS AND WALK HIM HOME#Az baby sweetie you KNOW what is going on#Lucien and Azriel: the danger duo#they're very...morally grey and into that#Also#Lucien found a thriftstore like any good bisexual#Azriel always knows what is going on#and it is a burden and a curse#mostly because he's the truest viewpoint for ALL nessian angst#lowkey background Lucien is very magical because hes the Spellcleavers son rep#next up: family dinner! High lord meeting! flying! its an angst bonanza#and Lucien is not so quietly ruminating#that he could save a horse and ride an Illyrian
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Hello love, hope you are well ❤ I was wondering if you have an estimate for Daylight chapter 3? No pressure at all but I'm gonna be mostly without internet for a few days, so I was wondering if I need to check for it when I can 🥰
hey, no problem! I’m thinking it’ll be done in 1 or 2 days? All the important Nesta parts are done- working right now on the Lucien/Helion/Sorcha Vanserra/Nesta smoldering in the background with Azriel and a cocktail drama!
In case it takes longer, have a snippet of Lucien losing his mind:
“Do you know,” Lucien said, “The first time he tried to have me killed I was two?” He laughed, hollowly. “The court told the story for years- was just barely toddling around, but I’d managed to make plants grow up through the throne rooms marble floor. I made them bloom.”
“He knew you weren’t his.”
It wasn’t a question. Under Azriel’s palm, the lean muscle of Lucien’s back turned iron once more. “He knew. My mother knew. My whole pack of fucking monster brothers probably knew. But no could prove it- everyone said he wanted me dead for power. Like I was a rival at four years old.”
Azriel, who’d seen his own step-brothers dead by Cassian’s hand, who’d stopped caring over the centuries that he wore his cruel father’s black-eyed northern face, would have heard what wasn’t being said even without shadows grace.
“But not even Beron told you.”
“Yes,” Lucien hissed, raising his head. The seething fire of his natural eye was hauntingly familiar now that Azriel had seen him beside Helion. Liquid gold.
“One last revenge. And I can’t even hate fucking Helion, because I’m pretty sure he’s in there crying on Nesta goddamn Archeron’s shoulder- because Helion being Helion who’s jokingly tried to tempt you into his bed for centuries isn’t enough, my- my father- is shacked up with Elain’s older sister, who is a Death goddess, which Feyre will probably take so personally she’ll start another stupid fucking war to drag her back. And Rhysand will help her, just in time for Cassian to lose his mind and blow up the kingdom I’m apparently, surprise, going to be fucking High Lord of."
Mildly, Azriel murmured, “I thought we liked Nesta.”
And just like he’d hoped, Lucien laughed.
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Starlight sneak peek
Lucien Vanserra was on fire.
No, he was fire. Lucien was the flame of the forest and bleeding red of the Hunters moon. He was the goddamn fire, not the pain, and he was going to burn the High Priestess of Spring to fucking bone if she didn’t stop touching him.
It was an effort, to open his eyes.
Inathe wasn’t even pretending to be looking over the freshly accumulated whip marks that rended muscle and skin down his back. Stroking his uninjured shoulder, the tips of her polished nails lingering, catching on the thin fabric of Lucien’s ruined shirt.
Lucien was going to cut off her fucking hands.
About the same time he thought it clearly, head ringing with agony, Inathe noticed he was awake.
“Find succor,” She purred, blue eyes burning. “Harsh justice makes just men.”
Lucien spit blood on the perfect Spring-white flagstones. “I have asked you not to touch me.”
Inathe retracted her hand. Held them both to her heart, eyes cast down to show off the shadowed expanse of full lips and dark lashes to the fullest extent. “My lord,” Lucien was not a gods damned lord, he’d never be one, “I am but a holy vessel. When my hands reach it is the Mother who offers comfort.”
#does he light her on fire?#yes?#is he much more worried about it Elain can feel his pain than actually being hurt?#so yep#did tamlin brutally punish him for some amalgam of being too close to Fey and ALSO HATING HYBERN#unfortunately#Lucien's life in spring#is just like#a long jumpcut sequence of pain#and then running for his life#and then#and thriving#WHEN THE FUCK#was someone going to tell me?#the scariest warriors in Prythian#are? hot? as? fuck?#bitter boys who become soft husbands#Starlight
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Holy fuck i love Azriel, thank you so much
thank you for reading!!!
listen, Az is going to rage against everyone, very quietly, right up until the moment he literally defects to Day.
Azzy is angry and tired and overdue for some goddamned peace! He’s a little lost! a bit scared! He’s going to get his naps and his sexy sexy sarcastic husband and his adorable babies!
but first- ANGST, and:
There was blood on his teeth.
In his hair, across his bruised face, but it was the nearly feral, obscenely beautiful red grin that drew Azriel in. The blazing gold in Lucien Vanserra’s eyes as he kept smiling, even as he snarled, “What the fuck did you do that for?”
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