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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

1st day of Christmas - Christmas Decorating

New Traditions (Modern Elriel AU)

Living with Elain Archeron, Azriel had found, implied a great many things. For starters, there wasn’t a windowsill that wasn’t peppered with colourful vases, the leaves green and luscious all year around. The kitchen, now covered in all kinds of baking supplies he couldn’t even begin to name, was constantly in such a state of disarray that the simple task of getting a glass of water easily turned into a hefty task. He couldn’t complain – not when every day he was greeted by a different kind of pastry his girlfriend was eagerly trying for the first time.

These, however, were details Azriel had been expecting when he first asked Elain to move in with him. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the sight of the enormous garland covered in berries, orange slices and small pinecones, hanging on their front door. Nor did he expect the tiny, chubby snowman sitting on it, staring at him with unwarranted joy. Azriel scowled.

It was the first day of December.

He opened the door, briefly wondering if Bing Crosby’s voice was crooning from their neighbour’s living room and not theirs. If the sweet voice singing along wasn’t his girlfriend’s – who couldn’t possibly be decorating on the 1st day of December – and belonged to Mrs. Allis instead.

Such wishful thinking was short-lived.

The house, Azriel noticed, smelled distinctively of ginger and cinnamon, and the wooden table in the foyer, usually covered in random knickknacks and their house keys, now sported entirely too many candles and a knitted reindeer wearing a Christmas sweater, welcoming him home with an innocent smile. Azriel settled his keys next to it, feeling oddly disturbed.

Azriel eyed the kitchen with concern. He wouldn’t go in – not yet at least – but he could glimpse Elain’s baking supplies on the counter, as well as a plate filled with red velvet brownies. Azriel swallowed a groan, fighting the urge to eat one – Elain knew how much he loved red velvet, but this felt premeditated. It felt like a bribery.

He kept walking, following the sound of Elain’s voice as he pointedly ignored the gingerbread house kit on the kitchen table (and the fact it remained unopened). Apprehension coursed through his body as he eyed the mistletoe hanging in the archway leading to the living room. As it was, Azriel usually decorated on the week before Christmas, and that was if Cassian nagged him enough that he’d just give up and put up whatever crappy decorations he had gotten throughout the years (read an old, plastic Christmas tree and a few random Christmas ball that didn’t really look good together). Azriel rarely spent Christmas in his own house, so it had never made much sense to decorate in the first place.

Elain, however, clearly had different plans.

Sure, this was their first Christmas together, but he couldn’t say he had expected this much…dedication on her part.

Azriel stopped in his tracks just as he reached the living room, eyes widening as he took in every single detail. Their once cosy living room was no longer. Their couch, a beige, dull thing by default, was covered in a fuzzy, checkered blanket, white pillows dotting its cushions. The usually empty mantelpiece was now covered by a green garland, dotted with fairy lights. Hanging from it, two stockings – one with an A stitched into it, the other with an E (if he seemed to smile at the sight of it, it was purely a muscle spasm).

He fought the urge to groan, side-eyeing the checkered blanket with horror once again. At least, he thought, there were no knitted animals in the living room.

Needless to say, he wasn’t entirely convinced on the Christmas decorations.

His girlfriend, however, was a sight to behold. He crossed his arms, fighting to not let his amusement show as he watched her. Even in her pyjamas and frowning at the tangled Christmas lights in her hands, Elain was lovely. Her cheeks were slightly pink, lips pursed in concentration as she appeared to fight the knotted mess in front of her (it seemed to Azriel she was losing, but he refrained from commenting on it). There was an old Christmas hat on her head, one Azriel faintly recalled taking home from one of Cassian’s holiday parties. It was entirely too big on her head, but it only made her all the more charming.

She was sitting on the floor, right next to a very tall, very bare Christmas tree. More boxes littered the floor around her, but Elain remained humming, unconcerned and completely unaware of Azriel’s presence in front of her.

Azriel hated to ruin her peace, but the checkered blanket seemed to mock him from the couch. He cleared his throat, face stoic ever as Elain yelped and looked up, eyes widening as she blushed.

“You’re home!” She greeted, standing up as she unceremoniously dropped the Christmas lights on the floor. Azriel raised an eyebrow, watching her as she turned down the volume of the music.

“What are you doing?” He asked, briefly wondering if this was one of those times Nesta had accused him of taking himself too seriously. Whatever that meant.

Elain, however, wasn’t deterred by his seriousness. She smiled prettily. “Decorating.”

Azriel made a show of raising both eyebrows. “It’s the 1st of December.”

“Yes.” She simply said, as if that explained everything.

“It’s the first of December.” He said again, not sure she had heard him correctly the first time.

“I’m aware.” She said, pushing the beanie away from her eyes. She did look adorable. “I’m in a festive mood. I wanted to do some light decorating.”

“Light?” He was vaguely aware he sounded like a crabby old man. Elain was too if the twitch in her lips was any indication. “Isn’t this all too much?” He still asked, eyeing the blanket.

He truly didn’t like that thing.

Elain blinked. Then she blinked again, taking in their living room. The couch, the tree, the mantle garland. Then she frowned. “Are you messing with me?”

Azriel scoffed. “Why would I be messing with you?” He took a step in her direction and Elain eyed him suspiciously. “There’s a gingerbread house in our kitchen.”

“No, there’s a gingerbread house kit in our kitchen.” She explained very slowly. “We’re going to build it together.”

“No, we’re not.” He chuckled, but his smile quickly fell away at her raised eyebrows. “We are?” He asked, frowning even as she walked towards him, a pretty smile on her lips.

“We are.” Elain said, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “But I made you red velvet brownies as a reward.” She whispered.

Azriel groaned, pressing his head against her neck, making her squeal as his beard tickled her skin. “You can’t distract me with brownies.”

“Are you sure?”

Azriel chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist as he pushed the Christmas hat away from her eyes. “I am.”

“Well, can I distract you with something else?” She asked, her fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. Azriel hummed, pressing his nose against her neck, taking her in for the first time in hours. He was almost distracted. Almost.

“Can we at least get rid of that blanket?”

Elain frowned, eyeing the couch. “What’s wrong with the blanket?”

Well, its very existence was wrong, in his opinion, and he opened his mouth to say just that.

“Nesta gave it to me.”

He promptly closed his mouth. The blanket was staying, then. Mother’s tits.

He cleared his throat. “And the tree?” He asked instead, trying to swiftly change the subject. Elain eyed with him a cheeky smirk, making it clear she was fully aware she had won the fight before it even begun.

Gods, he loved her.

“Were you going to start decorating it now?”

“Oh, well. No.” Elain turned shy, chuckling nervously. “I actually wanted to decorate it with you.”

“Right.” He nodded. “On the 1st of December?” He asked. Just to be sure. Elain chuckled, playfully pushing him away even as he tightened his hold around her.

She looked at the tree, avoiding his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a new tradition.” She shrugged. “Our own tradition.”

Oh. Oh.

He was an absolute fool.

Azriel looked at her, his heart beating wildly inside his chest. “You did, love?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “If you want to, that is.”

It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and show her exactly how much he did.

He kissed her instead, his tongue seeking hers, his hands roaming around her body. He groaned at the taste of her, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Elain smiled against his lips.

“Is that a yes?” She asked, gasping as his hands found her ass.

“How could I ever say no to you?” And little did she know how much he really meant it.

Which would explain why, merely hours later, Azriel could be found wearing a stupid Christmas hat, ignoring the stupid checkered blanket, and helping Elain put up the last of the ornaments on the too big Christmas tree. And if he had a smile on his face…

Well, that had everything to do with the girl in his arms.

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fuckmelifesucks · 26 days

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Cheap Alcohol and Ruined Sleep

Pairings: Elriel/Feysand/Nessian

Summary: Cass and Rhys make regretful 'college student' choices. Az is homicidal. The sisters' night is ruined with them having to help play babysitter. Nesta is annoying. Feyre is tired. Elain is trying to help Az keep his sanity.

Warning: Modern college AU.

Words: 2.4k

Characters: ACOTAR; Sarah J Mass.

~~~~~

“Huh?”

Elain sat up in her bed with a frown, resting the book she’d been reading on her nightstand. The furrow of her brows deepened when she saw what time her clock displayed. Another knock was heard from across the small apartment she shared with her sisters, both peacefully asleep in their own rooms.

Pushing away the glaring screen of her laptop displaying the assignment she’d been working on for the past few hours, she climbed out of her bed and padded out of her room and towards the entry door, wondering who it might be this late at night.

She curled her fingers around the knob and pulled open the door only to be greeted with a sight that surprised her but also didn’t at the same time. “Azriel?”

Hazel eyes like sunsets and autumn leaves and spring trees shot up to meet hers, a weariness to them that made her eyebrows rise as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

With all the seriousness of the world, Azriel questioned, “Would you, by any chance, have some chloroform lying around?” As if that were the most normal thing to ask, and not at all concerning.

“Umm…” Elain blinked up at him, taking in his disheveled raven hair falling onto his forehead and his wrinkled white tee and black sweats and the slight redness to his eyes along with the circles underneath. “Az, why would you need chloroform at two in the morning?”

So monotonous in his reply, it genuinely surprised Elain as he spoke, “I plan on using it on Cassian and Rhysand and then I’m going to drag them out and load them into my truck to go dump them in a shallow ditch somewhere faraway so that I can finally be rid of them and get at least one good night’s sleep.”

“Huh.” Elain stared up at him in the dim light of the silent hallway with her lips parted. Her eyes flicked to the door behind Azriel almost as if she could see the other two men inside. “And what are they up to this time around to get you so worked up?”

Before Azriel could even open his mouth to answer, a disturbingly loud bang of someone’s body slamming into a wall sounded, followed by muffled cries of curses, startling Elain.

A moment later, the door to the apartment opposite Elain’s, that Azriel shared with his brothers, swung open and out came two very drunk and very clumsy men who just so happened to be said brothers and Elain’s question was answered without Azriel having to say a word. Azriel groaned out a series of colorful choice words while burying his face into his hands.

“Lainy!” Cassian gasped as he rushed towards her, face flushed and eyes droopy, and squeezed her in a hug that lifted her off her feet and almost made her lose the ability breathe.

“Oh God, Cass, put me down, please,” she wheezed out, repeatedly tapping against Cassian’s shoulder.

“Put her down, you idiot. You’re suffocating her, for fuck’s sake.” Azriel rubbed at his temples, already over having to babysit two grown adults who were acting like children.

Elain took in a deep breath the instant Cassian let go off her. With a hand to her chest and wide eyes, Elain could only watch as Cass barged right into the girls’ apartment, slamming the door against the wall in the process with a very loud ‘Nes!’ on his way. Nesta was so going to kill him when she woke up. And she most definitely had woken up by now. Elain just knew it. Feyre had most likely too.

“Hiya, ‘Lain,” Rhysand slurred with a drunken smile and ruffled her hair clumsily before joining Cass, murmuring if his ‘Feyre darling, love of my life’ was awake.

She slowly turned to the third person who was currently busy glaring daggers at his brothers while massaging temples a little too hard. Az turned his attention back at her with an apologetic look. “Sorry for ruining your night as well.”

“No need to apologize, even though I would’ve much preferred a quiet night,” Elain murmured out the last part under her breath as she rubbed her palms against the sides of her pajama-covered thighs. “Just…why are they drunk on a weeknight anyway?”

“Cass came home with some cheap alcohol to celebrate the fact that he passed in a test he was sure he’d fail. Managed to rope Rhys in as well, somehow.”

“Dear God…Nesta is going to be so pissed,” Elain groaned.

“I know,” Azriel sighed.

As if she’d been summoned by her name, the door to the room next to Elain’s flung open to reveal a murderous Nesta, blue-grey eyes shimmering with rage as she took in the scene—Cassian conveying something absolutely incoherent to Rhysand while the two sat on or more like threw their weights onto the living room couch that looked way too small beneath the two large men.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Nesta snapped.

The door beside Nesta’s opened as well, though a lot slower this time around, and Feyre stepped out with her hair in disarray, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nes!” Cassian all but cried out as he jumped up from the couch and Elain winced at the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed on him.

“You. What the fuck are you doing here at this time?” Nesta demanded, steel voice sharp like knives.

“I missed you, Nes!” Cass was going to get himself killed.

“Rhys, why are you here at two in the morning?” Feyre, though clearly annoyed at being woken up so rudely, was comparatively calmer than their older sister.

Rhys, suddenly standing in front of Feyre now with his hands cupping her face, only grinned at her lopsidedly. “I—I’m so drunk, Feyre darling.”

“I can see that. Why are you drunk?”

Rhys shrugged, though it was difficult to tell with all the swaying he was doing, unable to hold his own weight. “Cass—Cassian he…” God, he could barely get the words out. Elain didn’t know how Feyre managed to keep a straight face. “H—He made me drink.” Was he actually pouting?

“I so did not!” Cass, not yet so far gone, protested with an overly dramatic gasp and slapped a hand over his chest rather too loudly. “You wound me with your lies right here, in my very heart, Rhysand!”

“Shut your trap, you idiot!” Nesta hissed, clearly still very grumpy while Rhys flipped Cass off and threw back a “Like I give a fuck.”

“Oh, my god. Someone kill me,” Az murmured.

“Let’s…” Elain blinked, turning away from the shitshow currently taking place in her living room. She made sure the guys’ apartment door was closed before gently pulling Azriel into the girl’s apartment, closing the door behind them. “It’s better if the neighbors don’t hear them.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want they at our necks with noise complains in the morning.”

“This escalated a little too quickly,” Elain commented, looking back at the scene and feeling Az rest his forehead on top of her head.

“Hmm. Tell me about it,” he grumbled. Elain only patted his disheveled hair.

Nesta was out of her room now, busy threatening Cassian’s family jewels while he only smiled down at her lazily. Feyre was still handling Rhys, listening to his ramblings. It was a chaotically wholesome and hilarious scene and Elain wanted to capture it in her memory to laugh recalling it come morning when she knew there would be many regrets coming from the two drunken men.

“Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?” Elain asked Azriel, making sure to keep her voice low.

“I do.”

“Reason why you’re contemplating homicide?”

“You know me so well, flower.”

“Um-hm. You might just have to skip, unfortunately.”

Azriel only groaned and then proceeded to curse the fuck out of his brothers’ bloodlines under his breath. “I might just have them sleep on their backs tonight, just in case. Wanna come help me prove my innocence when the cops arrive?”

“Azriel!” Elain gasped, eyes wide and all.

“Kidding. Kidding.” A beat passed. “Or am I?”

“Alright, none of you are leaving this apartment until those two sober up.”

“There you go spilling unnecessary water on all my plans of peace and freedom, flower.”

“Well, forgive me for not wanting you to get locked up for familicide.”

“Whatever would I do without you, love?”

“Probably something morally questionable and self-hazardous.”

“Hmm.” He finally lifted his head to see how much the shitshow had progressed.

Cass slung his arm around Nesta’s shoulders, either not registering or blatantly ignoring the daggers she was shooting at him with her heated glare. “Did you fall out of a vending machine, Nes?”

“What?” Nesta scrunched up her nose, arms crossed across her chest, though made no move to throw Cassian’s arm off her shoulder. She probably sensed he’d fall right on his ass and hurt himself if she did.

“Because you’re one hell of a snack,” Cass smirked, looking very much pleased with his shitty-worse-than-an-amateur flirting skills.

Nesta blinked at him, looking very unsure if she wanted to smack him or get him some help. “What is wrong with you, honestly?”

“Nes! Nes, are you an edible? ‘Cause I’d eat you right up.” Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. It was all far too painful to watch.

“Oh, my god, that was so bad it makes me want to kick you in the nuts,” Nesta stated, cringing. Though, amusement, just a tiny speck in her eyes, gave her away.

“But you still wanna kick me in the balls. Me. You want to fuck me so bad, it’s so obvious.” Talk about delusional.

Azriel wondered what past sins he’d committed that were so atrocious that he was being punished for them like this. He wanted to be taken out. Preferably quickly and at that very moment.

Nesta looked at Az then. “Just what type of blasted shit is he on? Did he snort something or what?”

“Cheap alcohol does that to him,” Az replied with a withering glare at Cass who was busy trying to get Nesta’s attention back on him.

Rhys on the other hand… “Feyre darling, I’m the most handsome, aren’t I?” he slurred his words, arms tightly wrapped around Feyre’s waist and face buried deep into her neck.

Feyre just hummed, stroking her fingers through his hair and rubbing gentle circles on his back. “Sure are, you big baby,” she drawled with a smile, affectionate humor sparkling in her blue-grey eyes.

“And you’re even more pretty, Feyre darling. You’re the prettiest,” he went on.

“Um-hm.”

Not even giving her a chance to open her mouth again, he continued, voice muffled and childish, “And I won you over with my glamourous wit and charm…” and on and on he went and Feyre let him, content in just babying the grown-ass man.

“It’s a good thing Mor isn’t here to join in with them,” Elain joked as she watched everything unfold.

“I’d have thrown myself out of the nearest window if I had to babysit her as well,” Azriel deadpanned from behind her, dead eyes glaring with murderous intent.

Elain leaned back into his chest and patted his cheek considerately, shaking her head gently with a smile that conveyed both pity and amusement. It was a good thing Mor was away on a field trip.

On that note…“What of Amren?” Their senior probably wouldn’t have been of much help either but still.

“Busy with Varian, as usual. She probably would’ve chewed everyone up for even thinking about disturbing her quality time.”

Elain huffed out a laugh. “Definitely.” Straightening back up, she sighed, a small smile still on her face. “Alright. Let’s go help them before Nesta actually kills Cassian or poor Feyre gets crushed under Rhys with all the weight he’s putting on her.”

“Eh… I’ve got an even better idea. How about we sneak back to my apartment and let those two deal with their drunk men.”

“Az...”

“…”

“Azriel.”

“…fine.” He let out a long suffered sigh. “Just ‘cause you asked nicely, flower.”

“Good.” Elain shook her head with her smile still intact and physically pulled Az with her to deal with their respective siblings’ antics.

“Come on, Rhys. Get off me. You’re heavy.”

“But Feyre darling…”

“We’ll both fall!”

“Cassian, I love you but I’ll seriously chop your dick off if you don’t stop with the cheesy pick-up lines.”

“I thought they were working!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Azriel, come get your brother!”

“Why do I have to put up with this shit?”

“Elain! Help me with Rhys, please!”

“Dear God…”

~~~~~

It seemed that in the midst of chaos, no one was actually able to return back to their designated spaces. At some point, everyone had found a spot to fall asleep in the girls’ living room itself, though their backs were sure to be disagreeable with when they were to finally wake up.

Cassian ended up falling asleep on the floor with one foot on the couch, snoring loudly. Nesta was right there with him, her head cushioned on Cassian’s stomach as she slept soundly, not paying any mind to the rumbling under her head.

Rhysand and Feyre were a few feet away, both on the floor as well, all cuddled up with each other. Rhys had a hand wrapped loosely around Feyre’s waist, curling up against her as they both slept facing each other, legs intertwined and all.

Azriel and Elain slept leaning against the couch. Or more like Az with his back against the couch as he sprawled out on the floor with Elain’s back against his chest as she slept curled between his legs. Head tucked under Azriel’s chin, Elain was all but glued to his front with his arms resting circled around her shoulders.

All were in awkward positions and yet all were deep asleep. Completely and utterly relaxed. Alarms were missed, classes were skipped and assignments were left forgotten and incomplete.

Although, there was a ton of grumbling and groaning and cursing when everyone finally came to. Especially from the two who were miserably hungover and regretting their life choices. They did get quite an earful and a few particular choice words each from the others who did not take it easy on them for fucking up their sleep with their drunken escapades.

~~~~~

Wanted to try writing about all three couples and not just elriel tho this is still kinda elriel centric I just can't seem to help myself 🫠

#acotar fic #elriel #feysand #nessian #the archeron sisters #elain archeron #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar #elain x azriel #feyre x rhysand #nesta x cassian #elriel fic #feysand fic #nessian fic #acotar #fuckmelifesucks

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honeybeefae · 7 months

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6, 13, 38. Just the stupidest and funniest situation you can think of with literally anyone 😂

Prompts:

6: "You look stupid as hell right now."

13: "Oh God yes, right there- oh my God, just like that, please don't stop." "...Can you stop that? You're making it sound like we're in a porno and now I'm highly uncomfortable."

38: "You're such a dork." "Yeah, no wonder you're so in love with me."

Pairings: Inner Circle, Cassian x Nesta, Feyre x Rhysand, Mor x Emerie

Warnings: Alluding to sexual situations but not actual sex!

(This was chaotic to write but it was so much fun and I can literally picture this exact scenario. I hope you like it! <3)

The fire roared inside the hearth of the cabin as everyone sat around the coffee table. All of the food had been eaten, the wine almost completely gone, but the conversation and good mood were still going strong as Cassian stood for his turn of truth or dare.

"Truth or dare, Cassian?" Mor asked, her arm loosely slung around Emerie.

"You know me too well to ask me that question, Mor." Cassian smirked, cracking his knuckles as he sent a wink to Nesta who rolled her eyes.

"You could surprise everyone once in a while, you know Cass? Keep people on their toes?" Feyre remarked from Rhys's lap, her eyes half-lidded as he played with her hair. "You don't have any juicy secrets you want to share?"

"Secrets, secrets are no fun, Feyre. Secrets, secrets hurt someone." He replied while pretending to take a dagger to the heart, Mor clearing her throat to regain his attention. "Sorry, what was it?"

"I don't think it's fair to make him do a dare while he's this inebriated." Elain said, her mouth twisted sideways.

"It is very fair, Elain." Amren corrected, taking a sip from her almost empty glass. "Let's hear it, Mor."

"I dare you..." She trails off while pursing her lips, looking across her friends before a devious thought enters her mind. "I dare you to renact sex between you and Nesta."

"What? No! I don't want to see that...or hear it." Feyre groans, covering her ears as Rhysand and Azriel laugh. Elain nodded her head, looking like she was ready to bolt while Nesta seemed fed up with the entire thing.

"Yeah no, that's not going to happen. Cassian. Pass it." Nesta ordered, not even bothering to glance at him while he crossed his arms and pouted. "Save your whining. Choose a truth instead."

"Hang on, hang on, I think it's up to the player to choose, right Mor?" Amren pointed out, smirking as Nesta shot her a glare. "What's wrong, Nesta? Afraid we're all going to find out how bad your sex life is?"

"Amren, you better-" Nesta began only to be silenced as Cassian stepped into the middle of the circle and shook out his body. Amren grinned when she saw Nesta's face pale, everyone knowing what was about to come next.

"Cass, no, please, they're just trying-" Nesta tried to pull him back only to sigh when he shook his head dramatically, stumbling back a step as he turned to look at her with a hand over his heart.

"I'm defending our honor." He said bravely, grinning wolfishly as he looked down at Rhys and Feyre. "Cover your ears, High Lady, it's about to get graphic."

Before anyone could though Cassian went head first into the "act". He started thrusting sloppily, his hair falling into his face from how loose his bun was becoming as he threw his head back and started making the most obnoxious, high-pitched moans.

"Oh yes, Cassian! Right there! You are so handsome and strong!" He wailed, not even noticing how red Nesta's face was becoming. "Oh God yes, right there- oh my God, just like that, please don't stop."

"...Can you stop that? You're making it sound like we're in a porno and now I'm highly uncomfortable." Nesta pleaded, burying her face into her hands as Cassian continued on as if she hadn't even spoken. "Cassian, please, I'm begging."

"Please, Cassian, I'm begging!" He repeated with a girly voice, falling on his ass as Nesta swiped her leg behind his knees to finally get him to shut up. Everyone started laughing, Rhys having to physically hold his sides, as Cassian stood back up and bowed not so gracefully.

"Thank you, thank you." He pretended to accept roses, pulling a reluctant Nesta into his lap. "I love you so much."

"You look stupid as hell right now." She snapped though there was no real bite in her tone, her hand cupping his face as he nuzzled his nose against her. "You are such a dork."

"Yeah, no wonder you're so in love with me." He replied smartly, avoiding her light smack as he kissed her softly. "Just know the feeling is returned one hundred percent."

"And just know you'll be sleeping out in the snow tonight, darling." She replied sweetly, patting his cheek as he tried to figure out just how serious she was.

#acotar #acotar fic #acotar imagine #inner circle #inner circle fic #rhysand x feyre #feysand #nessian #cassian x nesta #mor x emerie #elriel #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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thefangirlofhp · 6 months

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29. present @nightcourtseer, thank you for the prompt!

Nesta was on her fourth glass of apple juice, and only mildly wishing it was whiskey. A small victory, considering her abstinence, and a victory she relishes in all the same as she’s only wishing for the alcohol to numb her sensitivity six hours after indulging in the great family gathering of Solstice. Around her, everyone’s either drinking a juice mixture or plain water. Elain brewed an aromatic large pot of tea that no-one aside from her and once, Feyre, has been drinking. Nesta stands in the corner of the family room, her back digging into the two walls and her hand tight around the glass she clutches. Rhys is sprawled lazily in the armchair listening to Morrigan, Feyre close by watching Amren and Nyx put together an eighteen-thousand-piece puzzle Azriel gifted a touched-Amren and occasionally giving pointers. Elain’s closely listening to Cassian describe one winter in Illyria centuries ago that’s shaped up many parts of his survival skills, and Nesta can’t tell if her sister is that interested in learning how to differentiate bears from the marks they leave behind them.

Over the past two years, Nesta’s grown much more comfortable around Feyre and Cassian’s family��has taken to regarding them with a degree of begrudging fondness and only snaps at Rhys out of habit or if they’re both bored and she wants something to scratch her claws with. She’s happier to attend their family dinners, even sometimes contributing a dish or two from the records of her human memories, and has been buying them thoughtful presents every year. She’s not as canny as Elain is with her observations and niche gifts, but Rhys’s smile was true and grateful when he unwrapped Merrill’s newest transcript on multi-universe theories and star formation and confessed he didn’t think Nesta would remember him expressing the interest.

And in turn, Nesta thinks it’s an astute observation to make when she says they’ve grown equally comfortable with her. Morrigan’s gotten to offhandedly ask Nesta for opinions without thinking about it, and the entire family’s stopped drinking when they gather; have developed a new tradition of inventing non-alcoholic mixtures every-time. Nesta isn’t so comfortable with her own skin yet so as to confess how much the gesture warms her heart, that she holds it near and dear to her cupped in her palms like a hot coal that doesn’t burn and the thought alone is more than she’s equipped to handle.

She blinks her eyes roughly, and breathes in through her nose slowly. Perhaps she’s eaten too much of Elain’s casserole at dinner, and it’s why she’s so short of breath and sweat is breaking out in prick-points at her temples. She swallows the rising surge of nausea. The room feels a little hazy, or her head’s floating and dizzy.

Fresh air and the cold would set her straight. She puts her glass in Cassian’s gesturing hand, and quietly withdraws from the warm and slightly stuffy room to the hallway, her heart-beat accelerating with every step until she steps out into the gardens.

As expected of a mountainous terrain such as the Night Court, the snowing cold is sharp and unmerciful and the air crisp and clear. She gasps it in as she shuts the door behind her and leans against it, finding her dress a little too heavy on her shoulders.

Her eyes track Azriel’s figure in the moonlit night, sitting in the iron-wrought garden chair around a round table, reclined back in it with fog rising up before him. Nesta’s noted his absence some hour ago, and didn’t think much of it.

“Are you sleeping out here?” she crosses her arms over her chest and trudges through the snow towards him, her dress dragging it behind her. She stands over him, discovers he’s in-fact fast asleep in the uncomfortable chair, or at least his eyes are shut and he’s not moving, and in his fingers a smoldering rolled paper that’s smoking. Some more convenient version of a pipe, she presumes, brushing the snow off the nearby chair and sitting down.

“I was,” Azriel sighs.

Nesta regards him closely. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answers, bringing the rolled tobacco to his lips and breathes it in before holding it out. Nesta leans across and accept the offer, glances at it briefly before doing what he just did. “Felt hot in there. You?”

“Same,” she replies, the smoke billowing out and instantly sending her in a coughing fit. Azriel cracks open one eye and faintly smiles as he turns his face towards the snowing sky. “Felt too loud and too warm, all of a sudden. Too much.”

He hums quietly, taking back the shortening coughing-smoke that Nesta holds out and burning through the rest of it in one deep breath. The ashes drift with the smoke, but disappear into swirling shadows sweeping up every evidence. Azriel blows it out, and Nesta admires the movement of it in the still breeze, watches it drift into nothing.

She enjoys the quiet understanding she has developed early on and quite easily with Azriel long before she’s established any bridges with anyone in Prythian. They’ve had their understanding before Nesta’s even come to terms with her own sisters, or accepted her mate. The gnarly beasts of the family fiercely protective of their loved ones—Nesta liked that Azriel minded his business, even if it was his job to be invasive of other people’s, and that he’d never had a bad word to say to her since they met. Not even when she and Elain fight, or when she used to particularly badmouth Rhys (a transgression that remarkably got under Cassian’s skin).

It's a long time before she realizes that she’s calmed down, and her head’s clear and quiet once more. The doors open, flooding in a rush of golden light before they close again and someone approaches through the snow. A faelight glides over their heads and pauses above the table, curtesy of Elain who stops between their chairs.

“If I realized there’s a nicer party out here, I’d have come out much sooner,” she remarks, amused. “But a little chilly, don’t you think?”

“What are you doing out here,” Nesta abruptly sits up as Azriel turns to his wife, clad in her festive off-shoulders dress and her hair shortened in tight waves to her midback. “Go back inside!”

“It’s rude to hoard the fun,” Elain teases, running her hand through Azriel’s snow-dusted hair before he tugs her into his lap and wraps a wing around her shoulders. Elain takes the new roll of tobacco from his hands and surprises Nesta by inhaling a little of it, her cheeks rounding up with a smile as the cherry-red end glows brighter and she blows it up into the air.

“You’re pregnant,” Nesta needlessly reminds her sister. “Get out of the cold. Azriel, say something.”

The winged-idiot only smiles up at her sister, his arm tucked around her waist and the other holding her free hand like a school-boy. “Hello.”

Elain’s eyes wrinkle in the corners when she smiles back. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

Nesta bites back a smile, despite herself.

“It’s chaos inside,” Elain tips her head towards the estate. “Amren and Nyx are turning the place upside down. There are only seventeen-thousand and nine-hundred and ninety-eight pieces in the box and somehow two center pieces are missing.”

“Mm. Pity.”

Elain’s eyes sparkle. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? Because Amren definitely counted a eighteen-thousand pieces when she opened it.”

“I have no idea, no.”

“If you’ve taken them, I can only say that’s beyond sick,” Nesta splutters. “They’ve been putting it together for hours.”

“You’re both scolding me for a crime I’m only hearing of now.”

Elain tilts her head. “Give them back, Azriel.”

He relaxes against the chair and smiles. “No.”

“Azriel,” she softly admonishes. “It’s cruel. How long are you going to make her pay?”

“For a really long while.”

Nesta props her chin in her hand. “Is this about Amren’s comment four months ago when you told us you’re expecting?”

“Maybe,” Azriel answers shortly.

“She apologized,” Elain reminds him, brushing his hair from his forehead.

“She’s not sorry, yet. She will be.”

“Oh, Az,” Elain chuckles. “I won’t lie that this pettiness isn’t adorable, but it’s all water under the bridge. And she didn’t mean it like that.”

“Her immediate response to the news was to ask you if you’re sure it’s mine,” Azriel says, his voice cooling and hardening with every word. “If she was anyone else—”

Elain leans close, and lays her palm along his cheek. “Water under the bridge.”

Nesta glimpses his jaw tightening with annoyance before he sighs.

“I’ll gift it to her next solstice.”

“No!” Nesta bursts out laughing. “She’ll have aged centuries by then. Please, don’t curse us with an even grumpier version of Amren.”

“Who’s substantially grumpier than her previous self,” Elain reminds him wisely before frowning. “Azriel, you’re burning up.”

“Really?” he murmurs. “I thought it was the room.”

Elain feels his face once more. “Yes,” she carefully stands up. “Come inside. I’ll run you a bath.”

Azriel lets her tug him to his feet. “I’d actually like that,” he remarks, standing up straight. He holds out his hands to Nesta and drops two small puzzle pieces into her opened palm. “Tell her I’ve forgiven her.”

Nesta watches them walk back inside, Elain’s arm wrapped around his waist and helping him walk and Azriel sheepishly indulging the attention by playing along—Nesta’s seen him walk around straight for an entire day with an open chest wound before like nothing was the matter. She does understand the desire to be doted upon, actually, and soon enough follows them inside to seek out her own mate.

**don’t smoke when you’re pregnant, lads.

#nesta archeron #nesta fic #azriel fic #elriel fic #elain x azriel #elriel fanfic #elain archeron #elriel #azriel #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #cassian #acosf #nessian #winter solstice #fictober23 #flufftober 2023

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acourtofmishapandmistakes · 2 months

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Rhysand: Enjoys Vampire Diaries but refuses to talk to Mor about it

Mor: Enjoys Vampire Diaries and torments Rhys for liking it - has choreographed dances to High School Musical with Rhys, Cassian & Azriel against their will. Will pull out said dance moves at every opportunity.

Azriel: Loves Avatar the Last Airbender and has cried more than once about it

Cassian: Watches Avatar the Last Airbender with Azriel to bond but secretly prefers Teen Wolf (no one knows), can't fall asleep without a nature documentary in the background

Amren: Love is Blind, Ex on the Beach, Too Hot to Handle - thinks The Bachelor is overrated

Feyre: Cries at Bob Ross

Nesta: Will always tell everyone she prefers books to movies and TV... if there's graphic nudity she's in

Elain: Great British Baking Show

#nessian #nessian fic #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #elain x azriel #elriel art #a court of thorns and roses #acotar meme #funny acotar #incorrect acotar quotes #nyx acotar #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar

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bloomingdarkgarden · 1 year

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Elain Confronts Rhysand

Snippet of the confrontation between Rhysand and Elain regarding Azriel, coming up in a few chapters. In the second half of this story, Elain is going to find some hellish agency and I can't wait for her thorns to come out.

Violet eyes met her own in a calculated calm laced with power.

“What I did,” Rhysand responded slowly, “was for the safety of this court. For the safety of you yourself-”

Elain unleashed herself.

“You know NOTHING of me” she cried out across the room, her voice piercing the silence of the hall. It rang out clear and high.

“- of what tethers me to this realm.”

Feyre's hand moved to cover her mouth her shock, in response to hearing such a sound from Elain.

“He was my friend” The honesty, the emotion, in her tone, rippled through the room. Elain’s voice began to break at that thought, at the loss, at words never spoken.

“He was the only one, of all of you who saw,” the confession spilled out of her, the first time she had ever admitted it aloud. To Azriel. To herself even.

“He saw what I was,” she did not falter,

“Beneath it all, beneath the nightmare cauldron Made me into, he saw- ” she threw a wild hand behind her towards the shadowsinger.

Elain took in a great shaking breath, and brought her hand back to clutch her own heart.

“He found me in my darkest hour, and every day, every moment with him, brought me to light.”

She knew what she would say next. She looked into Rhysand’s violet eyes and pushed true intention into her gaze.

“You know what it is to share that with another.”

Elain turned her eyes to Feyre’s face, tears brimming her sister’s grey eyes as she listened, pain laced there.

Yes her gaze whispered to her sister, this hurts this hurts anyone who has ever felt such a thing.

Rhysand’s violet eyes finally flashed with a trace of quiet realization.

Elain could feel her voice breaking with emotion but she didn’t care.

“He was perfect to me,” almost a whisper,

my lovely, fragile, lethal belladonna

“and you took him from me like a thief in the night”

Rhysand parted his lips to say something but the loneliness and need and want that lingered within her for a year shook the walls.

“I have asked for nothing, nothing from anyone in all my life,” a breath, "except to have my own choice.”

The deafening need in her voice, the truth in that statement, that request, and how little it was to ask, hit Elain like a jolt to the heart. She felt it ring true throughout the room, and ache in the eyes of her entire family.

“It was the truest thing I have ever known” she whispered, knowing they could all hear.

“And you took it from me and made every moment ash in my fingers.”

Tears fell down her cheeks. Each one fell heavy, each weighted with truth. Elain could feel herself unravelling. But she would not break, not now with it all on the brink. So instead of unravelling, she steeled herself and allowed something cold, something like pity, to replace the sorrow in her eyes.

“how very little of love you must know to do such a thing." she said quietly.

Rhysand’s violet eyes guttered out and Elain knew she had won the battle.

How easy it was Elain thought in that moment.

How easy it was to bring a High Lord to his knees, not with any magic, not with any weapons, but with only the trueness of her own unblemished heart.

What Bloomed in the Darkgarden by ehoney on AO3

Multi-Chapter, Canon-Compliant, Updated every Monday.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elriel #feysand #nessian #the night court #acotar fic #elain archeron #azriel #shadowsinger #rhysand #darkgarden #slow burn but worth it #my whole heart and soul is going into this story #angst and yearning and soft intimacy galore #elain is no wilting rose here #get ready for thorns #elriel month #pro elain

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nikethestatue · 1 year

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How to Make An Illyrian Baby

Elriel Month 2023

Language of Love: Acts of Service

Azriel and Cassian build stuff. For their ladies. And the ladies are very happy with the results. (Canon)

Warnings: Language, some smut

“I have too many books,” Nesta stated, looking around her library. Bookshelves were groaning under the strain of endless tomes.

Nesta had a semblance of order when it came to her books: Sellyn Drake, war books, war strategy books, book dedicated to Cassian, which she’s been collecting for the past few years–surprisingly, there were quite a few, because he was, in fact, a living, breathing legend–and then romance novels. Light erotic romance novels, heavier erotica, and then, tucked into the bookcase that was in the shadows were her faves–the smuttiest of the smuts–the ones she and Cassian liked to recreate. Her very best one was about an Illyrian war veteran and lumberjack, who wanted to find a female to carry his sons. He travelled 500 miles through the wilderness to find his mate and give her his seed. That one gave Nesta a lot of ideas, especially those revolving around Cassian being dressed as a lumberjack. A depraved, sex-starved lumberjack.

Her husband towered, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed on his chest, her bright hazel eyes assessing the situation.

“Do you want to donate some? To a library?” he proposed.

Yes, that would be prudent and logical to do. But Nesta felt possessive of her books. The only other thing that she loved more and cherished greatly was Cassian. He was her glorious brave general, and not that she’d stroke his ego with her words and compliments, lest his head grow even bigger than it already was, but she loved him more than all of her books combined. Yet, she could not part with the books. Each one told a story of her own life, and walked alongside her on her journey. There, on the left, were the books that she read while she was here in the very beginning, when they were just Made, and Elain sat in her room, catatonic. Below those, were the books that she read when Cassian was courting her. Fine, technically fucking her, but that was their own, private manner of courting. There were books that Elain and Feyre gifted her, books that Emerie gave her, adventure novels that Gwyn was excited about. Nesta wasn’t much for adventure stories herself–she’d seen a little too much adventure in her 30 years–but she understood why Gwyn loved them and how they took her out of her own humdrum existence.

“No. I don’t,” she said simply, her tone even, but decisive.

“Alright then,” Cassian nodded. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe the House can offer more space? Create some shelves,” she proposed.

There was no reaction from the magical House. Usually, it gave some indication of having heard its Made mistress, but this time around, there was no reaction. It didn’t suddenly gather all the books in neat piles, and didn’t create shelves out of thin air.

Nesta waited for a brief moment and then sighed and announced, “I am going to train”.

“See you later, Nes.”

Cassian flew out of the House fifteen minutes later. He circled over the training platform, where the females were sparring individually and in small groups.

It was no longer haphazard like it was before, when they started out. Now, everyone wore comfortable cotton uniforms, and no longer exercised in leather. There were females from other Courts who joined the ranks, and who brought innovative ideas, such as comfortable shoes, made for running. Nesta and Mor were sparring together, with wooden swords, their swings packing a significant punch. Mor was dressed in a red tunic and white leggings, while Nesta remained true to her subdued palette–black leggings, dark shirt, her hair woven tightly around her head.

She’s been threatening to cut her hair short–like Elain.

Elain had shocked everyone, absolutely everyone, when one day, she arrived with a cute, but very short bob, having chopped off her long thick tresses. Cassian couldn’t believe it. Nobody could. But Nesta, who always found her hair a nuisance to begin with, eyed Elain’s short hairdo enviously and with serious intent.

The only person who didn’t seem to be put off by the short hair was Azriel. That night, at dinner, while Elain flitted back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, Azriel insisted on helping her. Cassian, in turn, was watching them, while pretending like he wasn’t watching them, and saw how many times Azriel’s scarred palm landed on Elain’s bare, exposed neck. How the long fingers ran over the back of Elain’s neck, stroking, caressing. How his knuckles skidded over the delicate skin of her throat, and how, when they thought that no one was watching, Azriel clasped his hand over Elain’s throat and squeezed. He pulled her to him, his hand firmly circling the long, elegant neck of his not-so-secret lover, while his lips captured hers in a deep, scorching kiss, biting her lips, sucking on her tongue. The way Azriel kissed Elain–it was usually done in private, but when Cassian happened to witness it, it was utterly filthy and inappropriate. Azriel kissed Elain like he wanted to brand her. Her neck was always marked with his teeth, and now, with her short hair, the mark was obscenely obvious. Cassian wondered if it was a not very subtle ‘fuck you’ to Rhysand, who still refused to grant them permission to marry, even though he was aware of their relationship. Rhysand said that until the mate bond between Elain and Lucien was officially rejected and certified by a priestess as null and void, there would be no formal recognition of Azriel and Elain’s relationship, and they were forbidden to marry. Cassian disagreed with his High Lord on his stance, and his bullheadedness, but he didn’t have a say in the matter.

So, as it stood, Elain kept her hair short, with an elegant upsweep, which has now become fashionable across Prythian, and her neck was always marked with bruises and teeth imprints from the Shadowsinger.

Despite how good the short ‘do looked on Elain, and how Cassian was envious of Azriel’s easy access to Elain’s lovely neck, he baulked at the idea of Nesta cutting off her hair. Nesta might have kept it braided or in a tight bun, but there was something special when Cassian pulled all the pins out and it fell like a silken waterfall around her. He vetoed the short hair thing on his wife. So far, the veto stood.

Nesta and Mor waved at him, when he flew past them, while Amren, who was lounging on a chaise and definitely not sparring or exercising, gave him a disinterested glance. No one spared him many looks in general, because most of the females were crowding around Amren’s dog, also named Amren. Varian gave the puppy to Amren as a Solstice gift, and though everyone waited with bated breath to see how she would react to this shaggy portly fluff ball of a puppy, she was…elated. Nyx burst into tears, also demanding a puppy, but Amren refused him coldly, scooping the dog in her arms and cuddling it the entire night.

Since then, the dog hasn't left her side. She loved that damn dog more than she loved anything, and named it Amren, though it was a boy dog. Cassian supposed that the name was fine. Amren Jr. was now as large as its cranky Fae mother, and he was still growing. Cassian wondered if Amren would ever try to ride Amren Jr. like a horse.

Cassian flew across Velaris.

It was a pretty, sunny spring day, where every tree seemed to be in bloom and bursts of pink, white, cream, purple and blue tree canopies made his flight more enjoyable.

He landed quietly at the black wrought iron fence of the townhouse. It was still a handsome white building, but Elain had repainted the front door a cobalt-blue. Branches of heavily flowering trees hung over the fence, making this a truly Fae house, with fragrant pink and azure blossoms swaying gently in the breeze.

He unlatched the gate and stepped into the courtyard. Elain was toiling on the side, planting forget-me-nots around the perimeter of the house. She looked cute, in a simple blue shirt and black leggings, with a thick headband around her short curls.

“Hey petal!” He greeted her.

“Cass!”

“He home?”

She nodded and nodded towards the door, letting Cassian make his way in.

It was good with Elain. Comfortable. Cassian didn’t need to say too many words. The girl always had the knack for just understanding him.

The townhouse smelled like bread and roses–as usual. There was always the rich yeasty doughy scent that permeated the air–like a bakery. But there was also a whiff of roses, as well as honey, and jasmine. It smelled uniquely like Elain and Azriel here now.

Nothing drastically changed inside the townhouse since Rhysand’s times, but it definitely wasn’t his anymore. It was Azriel’s and Elain’s. Furniture was rearranged, and the style was different–sleeker, more modern (whatever that meant). Something about this ‘modern’ thing that Bryce Quinlar had brought from her world and apparently Elain really liked. Cassian wasn’t too sure what it was, but apparently, it involved sofas that weren’t fluffy. It also wasn’t as stuffy as when Rhys lived here, because Azriel didn’t like anything ‘extra’. Things had to be functional, comfortable and minimal.

Azriel’s office and the house library had been rearranged in the way that his desk faced the wide open kitchen. Cassian suspected that Azriel liked to watch Elain and wanted an unobstructed view of her at all times. That was the main change on the first floor–walls had been knocked down, so Azriel could always watch his girl. Whether Elain realised why it was done, Cassian wasn’t sure, but Azriel was wildly obsessed with Elain, and there was no hiding it.

“Hey!”

Cassian could spot Azriel from the foyer. Azriel was in his office–a bright place, with huge windows and light pouring in and bouncing off the cream walls and plain shelves. Azriel avoided the dark at all costs, and his office was like his life–full of sunshine, of his Elain. It didn’t escape Cassian that Azriel was glancing out the window, catching a glimpse of the garden and his girl working in it.

“Hey you too,” Azriel tore his eyes away from the window and looked at Cassian. “What’s going on?”

Azriel wore a simple soft hoodie–another of Bryce’s contributions–and it was Azriel’s new informal uniform. He and Elain had invested early in the manufacturing of these hoodies, as well as sweat pants, both of which became wildly popular across all of Prythian, as well as the Continent. Let’s just say that they absolutely killed on that investment and were so fucking wealthy, they singlehandedly built and supported all the orphanages and schools in Illyria, as well as training facilities for females across all of Prythian. They opened libraries, girls’ schools and vocational training colleges for Illyrian females. It was ironic that Azriel, who hated Illyrian customs and attitudes all of his life, was now the predominant supporter of the changes that were taking place there. Nesta and Elain insisted on further investments in Illyria, and now, all these hoodies and sweatpants were manufactured there. It was actually kind of incredible, the more Cassian thought about it. He had spent 400 years trying to better the lives of the Illyrian people and make something of his land, and it took something else entirely to drive the changes–a girl from a different world, and three sisters who had experienced the best and the worst of what the world threw at women.

“You want to eat? Drink?” Azriel asked, as Cassian took a seat across him and stretched his legs.

Azriel looked healthy. Happy. It was always difficult to read him, but Cassian knew him well enough.

“No, I am good,” Cassian assured him, watching the man’s hazel eyes track Elain outside the window. The bright light of the office really showcased Azriel’s thick raised scar that stretched from his temple all the way to his chin, slashing across his cheek and crowding his eyelid. It was a gruesome fucking thing, made by a Made dagger, and everyone knew that the scar would remain forever, though it didn’t deter from Azriel’s handsomeness. It was almost like he wore it with pride, never hiding it behind his hair, or anything else. It was a scar that he received when Elain came to rescue him from certain death, and saved him. The scar, he felt, was a small price to pay for her sacrifice for him, and her love. Because no one loved Azriel quite like Elain. She tore him from the clutches of a Death God, and fought for him, and brought him back to life.

“I need your help,” Cassian said at last, after Azriel fixed him with a questioning gaze. Resting his laced fingers on his flat, muscular stomach, Azriel quickly announced,

“I am not helping anyone with anything if it takes me away from my girl.”

It was the first time since Cassian stepped in that a shadow popped up and circled Azriel’s feet. The shadows didn’t appear frequently anymore, and never when Azriel was at home–Azriel’s comfort and general satisfaction with life didn’t require the shadows any longer. However, Cassian knew that he brought a measure of distress to his friend right now, and he felt bad about that.

Cassian rolled his eyes and muttered,

“You are the worst besotted person I’ve ever met!”

“I am not besotted. I am in love,” Azriel objected lazily. “What do you want?”

Before Cassian could even open his mouth, Az added roughly,

“If it’s some shit from Rhys, you can forget it. I am retired.”

“You are not retired,”

“Fuck am!” Az insisted. “I am not doing any fucking favours for anyone, especially him.”

Cass threw a meaningful glance at the stacks of reports and papers, which definitely indicated that Azriel was not, in fact, retired at all.

“What’s that, then?” he cocked his brow at the papers.

Az puffed his cheeks and said,

“Charity.”

“Charity?”

“My girl lives in this city and this Court. Her sisters too. You. I am not leaving it to go to Hel because someone missed something vital that endangers you all. I can easily pick my girl up and fly with her to my beach house which is far, far, far away from here. But..I don’t want you to be thrown in some new fuck up war, and I don’t want Nesta to become a widow, and all that,”

“Oh, generous of you!”

“I am generous,” Azriel agreed easily. “I do all of this because I can, and I have a sense of responsibility, and not because I have to. So, I repeat, if this is an order from the High Lord, you can both stuff it. So, what do you want?”

“I guess lucky for me that this has nothing to do with Rhys. But I will take that drink, because dealing with you is a pain in the arse,” Cassian sighed.

Azriel smirked and got up, going to a cart which was lined with bottles of expensive liquor. He poured them both a measure of whiskey and handed the tumbler to his brother.

Oh Cauldron boil him. Wherever Az got this whiskey from, it was sublime. Cassian smacked his lips, savouring the deep smokey taste, with hints of citrus and even cherries in it. So what if it was 9 in the morning? Good whiskey was always a good idea.

“We need to build something,” Cassian said at last, and Azriel’s eyes immediately narrowed. The thick pink scar stood in sharp contrast to Azriel’s dark skin and as he cocked his head, it became even more pronounced.

Adding quickly, Cassian said, “and no, it will not take you away from your flower.”

“I am not helping you build another cabin,” Azriel warned.

400 years ago, the three of them, Rhys, Cass and Az, built a cabin in Illyria. It was for Cassian, and it was a mammoth project, since they did absolutely everything themselves. It took a couple of years and a lot of sweat, and pain, and frustration, but the cabin stood and Cassian and Nesta went there pretty often. Nesta loved the rugged terrain, the mountains, the low, but vast skies, the dramatic waterfalls and the immense forests. It was wild and beautiful.

“Nothing quite so elaborate. My wife needs some book shelves.”

Azriel hummed under his breath and then offered a single nod.

“Fine.”

“Well, that was easy,” Cassian smirked and Az glowered at him, but it was without any bite or threat.

“How many shelves?” Azriel asked, as he went to the kitchen to rinse their tumblers.

“No idea. A lot. The books are overtaking the House and she is refusing the donate any of them,”

Humming again, Azriel looked around the huge kitchen, which was remodelled to suit Elain’s needs. She cooked and baked voraciously, but mostly for the orphanages or to distribute the breads and the pastries to the less fortunate. Azriel was a big male, but even he couldn’t consume as much as Elain baked. She also had a bakery, where she employed human survivors of the War, who created many specialities from the Human Lands. Needless to say, the place was popular and Elain re-invested all the money that the bakery made into building housing for the humans across Prythian.

It surprised Cassian a bit, how charitable both Azriel and Elain were, and how much effort they put into bettering the lives of others, especially children and females. When he’d asked, Azriel avoided answering for the most part, only ever saying that since he got a second chance at life, he didn’t want to waste it on destruction, but wanted to put it towards creation. And that was that.

Running his gnarled scarred fingers over the long butcher block countertop upon which Elain did most of her baking, Azriel mused, “maybe I’ll build something too…” The counter was definitely banged up–chipped in some places, scuffed, burn marks littered all over the surface, gouges from knives and scrapers and rolling pins and bowls and other utensils all peppering the once gleaming surface.

They left the house and skirted the side of the building. Azriel immediately extended his massive wing, shielding Elain from the sun. She was crouching on the ground, her hands dirty, her brow sweaty.

“Flower, you need to wear a hat,” he admonished lightly, while she tipped her head back and smiled at him. “Your pretty face is getting all burned and red,”

“It is not!” she argued.

“You look like a beet,” he noted, and Cassian chuckled. She did. She was red and sweaty, but her brown eyes gleamed with joy.

No one would’ve thought what this smiling, soft woman was capable of. No one would’ve guessed what she did. If someone didn’t know their story, no one would believe it. It was unbelievable. It was legendary. It was the stuff of myths, where only four short years later, no one thought that it actually happened. But it did.

Elain Archeron had bargained with the Cauldron, and offered up her own immortality to save the man she loved. Elain, the gentle flower grower, fearlessly stepped back into the ink-black waters of the Cauldron, returning to its horrific depths willingly. She, who clutched her dead lover to her chest, and who offered to share one life with him, in exchange for his own. Azriel was dead. He had no immortality. He had nothing to bargain with. He only had the love of Elain, who pleaded and begged and sacrificed on his behalf. And the Cauldron agreed. It bound Azriel to Elain’s life. One life. For both of them. If she died, he died. If he died, she died. Together. Forever. Unable to exist without each other. The Cauldron tethered them with a bond unlike any other. Elain gave up her perfect immortality, her grace, so she could live whatever years she had with Azriel. The only such bond in existence, created especially for them. Only because the Cauldron loved Elain and wanted to make her happy. Elain made the Cauldron purr.

She was laughing now, crying “I am not a beet!” while playing with Azriel’s wing. He poked her on the head with the claw and then warned, “I better see a hat on you!”

She sighed dramatically and muttered, “fine!”

“Thank you,” he drawled and then scooped her in his arms.

She traced his cheek with her dirty finger and then asked, “do you want beet salad for dinner?”

“My favourite,” he smiled. “With goat's cheese?”

“Yuck,’ she grimaced. “Fiiinnnneee…”

He laughed and pressed, “And almonds?”

“And almonds,” she nodded. He wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed her nose, then her mouth.

Cassian stepped aside, to give them room.

Azriel stroked her face, her neck, before biting her at the juncture between her shoulder and her neck, sinking his teeth into her skin cruelly and possessively. She stilled in his arms, while he sucked, his mouth laving and hurting, kissing and biting her. He was always feral with her, barely controlled, completely consumed by her, and consuming her in turn.

The bargain was harsh, but in Cassian’s opinion, perfect for them–Azriel wouldn’t have been able to live without Elain anyway. If she wasn’t with him, he’d simply hurl himself down on the ground from a great height and not unfurl his wings. Unlike most beings, Azriel didn’t fear death. Like Cassian, he walked side by side with Death all his life, and dying was the most natural thing to him. Cassian might have had a healthy respect for death, but Azriel taunted it and fought it. Though now, thankfully, he was thoughtful about it. But only because it involved Elain.

“You want to wear a flower crown?” Elain asked, once Azriel finally forced himself to pull away from her. Cassian was of mind that Azriel would just take here right then and there, on the lawn of their house. Would it surprise him? Not even a little bit.

“Sure, flower, let’s do it!” Azriel agreed easily, a smile playing on his handsome face.

She got excited and rushed to a cart, where her tools and seeds were stored, from which she retrieved not one, but two flower crowns. Azriel looked at her like she was a falling star, the most beautiful sunset of his life, like the sun at dawn.

“Cass, you want one?”

Well, Cassian certainly couldn’t say no to her, considering how thrilled she looked right now, so he nodded and stooped, so she could place one on his head. He was a smart man. He liked Elain, but also, he didn’t want to be beaten to death by Azriel’s boot for refusing Elain’s flower crown.

She laughed and told him ‘You look good!’

“Anything for you, petal.”

They flew to the market, and then walked down the crowded paths, while Fae gawked at them. Some dared to ask for autographs. It wasn't every day that the Commander General and the Shadowsinger were strolling down towards where lumber, metals, and construction materials were sold. Two huge Illyrian warriors, sporting flower crowns. Neither Cassian nor Azriel removed their new decorations, and didn’t really care whether they looked odd. Multiple people stopped and told Azriel to pass their regards to Lady Elain. Because Lady Elain paid for a healer for someone’s son. Lady Elain found housing for someone’s uncle. Lady Elain’s new park was wonderful. Lady Elain’s free kitchens served the best potato and sausage soup.

Cassian didn’t comment, but he wondered if part of the animosity between Rhysand and Azriel was due to the fact that Elain was beloved, and Feyre was the High Lady. Feared and respected, but not loved.

“Are you planning to patch things up with Rhys any time soon?” Cassian queried, as the two of the selected wood, nuts and bolts, fasteners and lacquer.

“Not planning on it,” Azriel shrugged, filling the cart with dozens of wooden planks.

Carefully, Cassian prodded, “Is that reasonable?”

Azriel remained placid under the scrutiny, choosing whatever he needed for his own project. Calmly, he asked, “what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. That you’ll be the bigger male in this ridiculous standoff, and you’ll,”

Interrupting him, Azriel said, his tone dry and crisp.

“I am in love with a human woman, Cassian. Just like you. My human woman grew up believing in certain things–betrothals, marriage, weddings. Maybe it matters little to you and I, but my human woman always wanted that. She wanted love–to love and to be loved. She was betrothed and about to be married once, and she was torn from that world and that future, and given to another male. A male she didn’t know, didn’t want, and didn’t like. She was shackled with a bond she didn’t even understand, and while everyone told her how special it was, and how she should ‘give him a chance’ she was developing feelings for another male–me. She wanted me. And Rhys forced me to break her fucking heart, Cassian, because of Lucien! Because of his political agenda. When it came to him stealing Feyre from Tamlin, that was all dandy! Oh the great mate bond that was bestowed upon our High Lord. The mate bond that trumps all. Well, not only was I forced to reject the woman I love because of Rhys’s political machinations, he didn’t bat an eye when he found out that Lucien was shacking up with Vassa. In his mind, Elain had to ‘deal with the bond’, sit alone and untouched by anyone, while I was sent on missions all over the world, so he could keep us apart.

“Elain went and did whatever Rhys commanded for the good of Prythian and his Court. She had to match wits with a Death God and bargain with the Cauldron. When it came to saving his mate and son, Rhys was dropping on his knees for Nesta, who did an exemplary and selfless thing for them. But when Elain did the same, but it was for me, and for Prythian, somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“All I ever wanted was to offer my Elain what she dreamed of–a proper betrothal, and a wedding, and a marriage. Not some secret bullshit thing, where we have to hide it from everyone, the way we had to hide our relationship.

“But alas, we do not have the great and magnificent Mate Bond! Which apparently is the only thing that matters to Rhys. You and Nesta were mated, you were married, and you get to live your life as you please. And I am happy for you. But I live under the threat of banishment, stripped of my rank, and forbidden to marry my woman. Either I have to become an oath breaker, and a traitor to my High Lord and my Court, or I have to live in shameful silence with Elain, like we are two criminals.

“So no, I am sorry, but I am not planning on patching things up with him.”

That was the longest that Cassian ever heard Azriel speak. It was a tirade from a male who did not lower himself to tirades. There was something agonisingly sad and wretched about the betrayal that Azriel felt from Rhysand, and it pained Cassian to see things devolve like that. Five, almost six years on, and there was no resolution. And Cassian couldn’t blame his brother.

In the end, Cassian simply said, “Elain deserves better. She deserves the world.”

Azriel nodded, saying, “that’s why I am going to build my baker girl a new counter. It’s time.”

The sun was beating down on one of the inner courtyards of the House of Wind. Thankfully, a pleasant cool breeze from the sea brought some relief, though the men preferred working shirtless anyway.

Cassian and Azriel worked well together–they were mostly silent, knowing what needed to be done without unnecessary commentary. The camaraderie was familiar and pleasant, honed to perfection after centuries of friendship and brotherhood. Rhys didn’t like building things, and preferred to use magic when he could, so it would be done quicker, and perhaps better. But there was something about getting calluses on their hands, and the tingle of strain in their muscles from lugging all the parts and then hammering and screwing them together. There was innate satisfaction with producing something that came from them, and was built with their own hands. They’ve completed three bookshelves already, and were working on Azriel’s butcher block right now. It was a simple job, if a little tedious, but the polishing of the surface was also calming, relaxing even. While Cassian was sanding and polishing, Azriel was on his knees, attaching a fastener to the side of the block, his muscles straining and his dark golden skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat.

“We got company,” Cassian murmured with amusement.

Azriel glanced over his shoulder, and saw a bunch of females strolling about, sneaking through the columns that lined the loggia one level above. They were milling around, pretending like they had some business here, in this corner of the House, where none would ever step foot in before.

Azriel huffed and returned to his work, while Cassian heard an audible gasp from a few ladies, when they were faced with the expanse of Azriel’s bare back, clad in thick muscles and decorated with black ink. He had added tiny pink roses to the blunt black curls of his tattoos, delicate vines that wrapped around the Illyrian markings, making him an Illyrian, but also Elain’s. Cassian had seen Elain’s own tattoo–exactly the same black swirls like Azriel possessed (actually, all of them did) for luck and glory on the battlefield–and boy, oh boy, did she need it!--swirling the side of her torso, under her left arm. She also had tiny roses dotting her skin, but they were cobalt blue. Because she was Azriel’s.

“What are they doing?” Mor raised her brow, while she wrapped her thick blond hair in a ponytail.

Gwyn Berdara, Mor’s mate and wife, mirrored her, tying her long bronze locks with a blue ribbon.

Nesta, who stood still, watching the males work on fitting a shelf into the slots, said,

“Apparently building stuff,”

“What is it?” Gwyn wondered, though it was pretty obvious what was being built, and Nesta gave her a ‘I slay my enemies’ look, at which Gwyn quickly added, “I mean, why bookshelves?”

“Told Cassian I needed bookshelves,” Nesta said bluntly.

“And he just went and built you some shelves?”

“It would seem so,” Nesta agreed and cocked her head, watching her husband, until a small smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth.

Mor was watching them too, while doing sit ups and stretches, to ‘limber up’ according to her, because she and Gwyn and Emerie were going to be participating in a sunball tournament tomorrow. Nesta thought that the whole thing was stupid, but many people around her took this game way, way too seriously and there were complex strategies being worked out all the time. One team had Feyre, Gwyn, Emerie, Cassian and Varian, plus a few other Fae, while the other team was led by Mor, Azriel, Rhys, Cerridwen, Balthazar and others.

Nuala, Elain, Ressina and a few of their friends from the city, as well as Azriel’s younger sisters were on the cheer squad, pumping up the crowds, doing stupid and risky gymnastics for no reason.

Nesta and Amren had no interest in sunball, and thought that the whole thing was ridiculous. However, they were completely outnumbered. It was for the best that Nesta wasn’t on the teams–she’d just fight with Cassian constantly, just like Feyre did with Rhys and Mor did with Gwyn. At first, Elain was also all fired up about joining, but she could barely tackle a poodle, let alone someone like Cassian or Balthazar. Besides, everyone knew that Azriel would smite anyone who’d touch her or hurt her. Elain was pouting for a week straight when she didn’t make the teams, or even the subs. It was Varian–the Captain of the Blues–who suggested that they all needed a cheering squad, and Elain just about tackled him when she heard about it.

Nesta had to admit that the cheer squad was pretty impressive. They did all kinds of magic, Nuala floated through things, Azriel’s sisters flew and performed acrobatics in the air, and Elain played with both fire and water.

“Cauldron boil me,” Mor muttered under her breath, “but they are pretty.”

They were pretty. The two indescribably beautiful males sure knew how to impress. Cassian was thick and agile, powerful and rough, like the mountains and the winds of Illyria. Azriel was slender and carved, elegant and devastating, dominating and calm, like the blue waters of the ocean.

Nesta didn’t much care for Mor breathing her admiration for Cassian, or Az for that matter, but she didn't say anything.

“Yeah, you can get pregnant just from looking at them!” Gwyn announced, and Nesta winced.

If anyone was going to be getting pregnant here, it would be her. By Cassian.

She could barely tolerate other females looking at her husband, but she also felt a bit smug–after all, he was building stuff for her. He wanted to please her. He loved and adored her. He was hers.

Nesta’s learned a lot in the past six years of her marriage and matehood. She learned how to compromise and what fights were worth her time, and which weren’t…and curiously, the longer she lived with her mate, the more she realised that most fights weren’t worth it. She preferred to love him. She watched Elain and Azriel, whose temperaments were very different from her own and Cassian’s, but who always set an example with their relationship. They hardly ever disagreed, and instead of jibing and nagging, they praised and supported each other. Elain only ever sang Azriel’s accolades and while Nesta figured that they probably had some disagreements, Elain and Azriel knew how to resolve them quickly and peacefully. And Nesta realised that she kind of wanted more of that, as opposed to bickering and arguing. When there was nothing to fight about, why perpetuate the unnecessary tension? So she didn’t join the sunball teams, because she wanted to keep the peace, and right now, she felt like praising her husband.

Nesta left the others behind and went downstairs.

‘Heavy motherfucker’ she overheard Cassian grunt, his huge arms holding the heavy structure steady, while Azriel scowled as he jammed and shimmied the last of the shelves into place. Through gritted teeth he hissed, ‘next time you are buying Nesta a bookshelf! Like a normal person!’

Nesta approached Cassian from behind, admiring his sweaty back, where each divot and scar, every tendon and birthmark were familiar and beautiful. She wrapped her arms around his trim waist and pressed her cheek to his spine, between his wings.

“But Nesta likes it when her husband builds stuff for her,” she protested and Cassian’s massive body shook with laughter.

Nesta never grew to like the term ‘mate’, unlike Feyre. She always preferred ‘husband’, because that’s what Cassian was–he was her husband. Her lover. Her mountain. Her soul. And she loved to ‘husband’ him in front of others. She just wished that her sister Elain could do the same one day–because no one ever wanted to marry a male more than Elain wanted to marry Azriel.

“Hello Nes. This was supposed to have been a surprise,” he reminded her.

“Don’t know how this was going to be a surprise,” she shrugged, “when you’ve been hammering, cursing and thrusting all morning long!”

“Thrusting?” Cassian huffed and Azriel gave him a look. “I certainly haven’t been thrusting. Otherwise, I would’ve remembered it!”

Nesta laughed softly and kissed Cassian’s back, “sounded like thrusting.”

Azriel finally wedged the last of the shelves in place and Cassian let go of the bookshelf at last and Nesta ducked under his sweaty arm, as the three of them admired the fruits of their labour.

“You like?” Cass asked, wiping his brow.

“I like,” she confirmed.

The shelves were simple, but beautiful. Made by her husband’s own hands. And what could be more precious than that?

Azriel folded his arms on his wide chest and asked, “And the House couldn't have built these for you?”

Nesta looked up at Cassian and the ferocious look of pride and satisfaction on his handsome face, and stroked his cheek.

“The House knows what’s real. I only want real.”

Nesta’s hand skidded over Cassian’s thick arm, her fingers tracing the patterns of his tattoos and then she whispered, her voice husky,

“I think I need to be alone with my husband, Az.”

“I would agree,” Azriel chuckled, as he tugged his shirt back on. “All it took is a little sweat and some rudimentary building skills,”

Cassian shrugged innocently, his big hands circling around Nesta’s thin waist.

“Ladies like a builder, brother.”

“Ladies do,” Nesta confirmed, her cool unusual eyes glazing, sliding over the panes of Cassian’s phenomenal body.

Azriel smiled, saluted them, grabbed the heavy countertop and then winnowed away.

Elain was out when Azriel returned home. He had about an hour to wrangle the old countertop off its base and affix the new one. As he got to work, he pondered if Elain would be as enamoured with his building skills as Nesta was with Cassian’s, and where that appreciation might lead.

Despite the lovely morning, by midday the weather’s changed, and thick spring clouds rolled from the sea. Azriel opened the tall doors in the kitchen, so that the cool pre-rain breeze wafted inside from the garden, which smelled exquisite from all the flowers and the blooming trees. He watched as the heavens opened up and a swift, heavy downpour came down quickly and violently. As he screwed the new countertop in place, he hoped that Elain wasn’t caught up in the storm, but, not 10 minutes later, he heard her at the front door. Felt her. Sensed her actually. Knew that she was near him now. He walked to greet her, throwing a lingering look at the new, shiny, polished, pristine butcher’s block. It looked amazing, if he could say so himself.

Elain was soaked. Dripping water from her dress, her hair, her eyelashes, everywhere.

“Beautiful, why didn’t you winnow?” he asked, standing in the doorway, watching her, as she tossed her sopping wet shoes on the floor.

She looked at him and a lovely light lit up her face–the same light that always came out of her when she saw him.

“I love the rain,” she said simply, and then pulled her dress up without thinking about it, scrunching it up and tossing it on the floor by the shoes.

Azriel watched her, unmoving, though he was smirking, and said, “Please, continue and don’t stop on my account.”

Before she could retort, her eyes popped open widely and she gasped, craning her neck–’what is that??’ She could see into the kitchen from here, and the new countertop was hard to miss.

“Az…” she breathed. “You…you made this?”

“Sure did, gorgeous,” he nodded and as she tried to run by him, his arm shot out and he grabbed her firmly around the waist, pulling her to him. She only wore a silk undershirt, which was also soaked from the rain, and he didn’t waste any time tearing that off of her.

“Az,” she croaked again, because now, she was completely naked, save for her white stockings, which moulded over her plump thighs, and he was completely dressed. Hefting her in his arms, he lifted her off the floor and her legs wrapped around his waist, as she draped her arms over his shoulders.

“You made that for me?” she breathed. And the smile that bloomed on his lips was devious, enticing and a little evil.

“I heard that girls like shit built for them,” he teased, as he walked them slowly from the foyer and into the house. His large hands gripped the backs of her thighs, before he repositioned her, so that he cupped her bare ass, his fingertips positioned precariously close to her centre. She keened into him, breath hitching higher in her chest, her breasts rising and falling.

“Girls do,” she nodded, echoing her sister’s words. “I want a big, sweaty, brawny man to build me things,” she growled, her teeth biting the tip of his ear.

“Are you describing Cassian?” he joked, those bold fingertips tracing the rim of her entrance.

“There is only one big, sweaty, brawny man in my life,” she bit his earlobe savagely, before sliding down and nipping on the column of his neck, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on his skin, the thick veins of his throat.

“Care to test the countertop? Make sure it’s well made?” he proposed, as she sank her teeth into his skin, biting and kissing his neck, surely leaving a mark on him. His control wavered and he picked up his pace, almost running to the kitchen and slamming her down on the new surface. She yelped and bounced on the hard wood, while he roughly parted her thighs and stepped between them, sliding his sweats down and freeing the cock that was legendary. She barely managed to prop herself on her elbow, though he wrapped his arm over her back, preventing her from falling back, while at the same time, he drove his thick, heavy shaft into her.

She screamed from the agonisingly painful, but delicious thrust, as he filled her so suddenly and completely, she had no time to process it.

“Oh, by the fucking Cauldon,” she wailed, trying to adjust to the pressure, and the glorious drag of that magnificent pole, while he began to pound in her relentlessly, not allowing her any time to adjust. All she could do was just take it.

A chant of “fuckmefuckmefuckme” burst forth from her lips, and he smiled a taunting little smirk, murmuring ‘language, little Elain’, shaking his head at her, as he drove so deep inside, she was left completely breathless. Falling back on the new counter at last, she could only take the merciless ramming of that massive dick, thinking that there would probably be an imprint of her ass in the surface of the counter from how hard he fucked her.

Apparently, roughly fucking ladies on newly built things was what the gentlemen liked.

She clamped tightly around him in no time, her breasts bouncing wildly from the force of his thrusts, and her back arched at an unnatural angle, as she careened over, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard enough to almost break it. Not that Azriel cared how hard she pawed or squeezed him. He spilled inside of her with a hoarse, feral groan, pressing his forehead to hers, while he rolled the wet stockings down her legs.

“Pleasure to serve my lady,” he grunted against her lips, and she burst out laughing. “How’s the counter?”

“Probably left a bruise on my butt, but otherwise, amazing!”

Ten Months Later

How does one make an Illyrian baby?

Build furniture for the mother, and then fuck her on it, that’s how.

Azriel and Elain made their way to the House of Wind. Well, they took a carriage, like normal people, and once they were deposited in front of the red mountain and the massive building within it, Azriel picked Elain up in his arms and flew the short distance to the private quarters, where Nesta and Cassian lived.

Cassian opened the doors on the terrace and his face broke into a wide grin.

“Lemmie see them!” he demanded impatiently.

Azriel smiled and carefully laid two swaddled bundles into his brother’s waiting arms.

Grumbling, Cassian muttered, “I can’t believe you made two!”

Azriel wrapped his arm around Elain’s shoulder and then whistled, adding smugly,

“Well, brother, I can offer you some pointers for next time…”

“What next time??!” they heard Nesta’s voice from the lounge.

She was laid out in a wide armchair, looking cool and unbothered as usual.

No one would tell you that she gave birth yesterday morning.

“We are definitely going to discuss the ‘next’ part,” she warned Cassian, who sat down on the edge of the chair and scooped another baby–his own–into his arms.

“What did you name her?” Elain asked.

“Parvati,” Nesta said, gently stroking the baby’s head with her finger.

“Daughter of the Mountain.”

“Well, Parvati, it’s nice to meet you. These are your cousins, Ramiel and Isabelle.”

“The three of you will do great things together.”

credit to @gracie-rosee for Amren and her dog HC

#elriel #elriel month #elriel-month #elriel month 2023 #nessian #nessian fic #elriel fic #my writing #how to make an illyrian baby #Nesta and Cassian #Elain and Azriel #Elain Archeron #Azriel #Nessian and Elriel #my wriitng #my fanfiction #ACOTAR Fanfiction

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thesistersarcheron · 1 year

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I am currently writing for A Court of Thorns and Roses!

Because I post updates and keep up with my fics most regularly on my AO3 account, miss_belivet, this list links out to each fic there.

Ongoing multi-chapter fics are marked with an asterisk (*). For more information about ratings, content warnings, and additional minor pairings, please check the tags on AO3. Also, please note that I am a multishipper!

Nessriel

viciousness & intelligence* — It is well known across Prythian that High Fae mating bonds are a rare and sacred union between two souls. Lesser fae mating bonds, more common yet less studied than their High Fae counterparts, are bound by an entirely different set of rules. After the ball in the Hewn City, Nesta and Cassian swore to each other that there would be no one else. Ever. They didn't account for Azriel.

promises & punishments — Nesta and Cassian face the consequences of breaking their promises to Azriel. Set in the universe of viciousness & intelligence, but can be read as a standalone. PWP.

clandestine meetings — Prompt fill for “In my dreams, we’re still together,” with Nessriel. Oneshot.

Feysand

As the World Falls Down* — Based on a prompt from deepwaterwritingprompts: Sometimes in the dead of night on the way to the kitchen for a glass of water, I see an extra door in the hallway, black and imposing. Five times the High Lord of the Night Court tries to lure his human mate across the wall and the one time she hunts him instead.

Bejeweled — Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the Night Court with his magic means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the mines while everyone else attends an orgy without him. He doesn’t expect to meet Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him. PWP.

Poltergeist Darling* — Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.” (What would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?) PWP.

Hear It in the Silence (See It with the Lights Out) — Feyre's shields are weakened after a long, exhausting night with her mate, and she reveals an embarrassing secret she's been hiding from him. Rhys learns something new and exciting about his darling and gives her everything she wants. PWP.

High Infidelity — Prompt fill for “Why does this feel like goodbye?” with Feysand. In a world where Rhys was a split-second too late to interrupt Feyre’s wedding, he and his mate have to make the most of their bargain. Unfortunately, the goodbyes never get easier. Angst. Oneshot.

What a Mind — After years of avoiding reading lessons as a human, Feyre finally learned during those long, endless hours copying letters during her first visits to the Night Court. She even enjoyed it, developing a voracious appetite for books in the Spring Court. However, faced with an official document in outdated penmanship as High Lady, she realizes that no matter how much effort she put into those lessons, she still has more to learn. Oneshot.

Delicate* — Driven by instinct in the split-second after the mating bond snaps, Rhys abducts Feyre from the balcony overlooking the Middle during their goodbyes. Now that Feyre has seen Velaris—and witnessed Rhysand break down sobbing in another female’s arms, spouting some nonsense about mating bonds—she is forbidden to leave the city and return home to Tamlin and the Spring Court until the Inner Circle unanimously agrees that she is not a threat to the security and secrecy of their beloved City of Starlight. Slow updates.

Of the Archer and the Dark* — Feyre Archeron is the youngest member of the Fae nobility trapped in Under the Mountain. When she is dragged before the High Queen of Prythian in her father’s attempt to settle his gambling debts by selling her hand in marriage, Feyre faces scrutiny from all sides: the wicked queen herself, who takes a particular interest in securing a match for her; the leaders of the rebellion, who already paid the price of failure once; and the cruel High Lord of the Night Court, who seems to enjoy nothing more than dismantling the defenses Feyre has spent years building against monsters like him. Hiatus.

Elriel

Visions of You* — After learning of her younger sister's fate Under the Mountain, Elain Archeron struggled to envision her future as the lady of the Nolan estate. Sometimes, when she woke in the night and the iron band of her engagement ring was cold as ice on her finger, she knew only dread. She had no such trouble with the fearsome faerie male who made a habit of checking on her nearly every day. It might have been some trick, a faerie enchantment or thrall, but falling in love with him was the easiest thing she ever did. Canon Divergence in ACOMAF, human Elain x Azriel.

all’s well that ends well (to end up with you) — Elain serves Azriel at Solstice dinner, a bond between them snaps, and they are sent into the mating frenzy as chaos ensues around them when the Inner Circle's holiday celebration is turned into an impromptu mating ceremony. Canon divergence.

Crimson Clover — When a stranger tries to kidnap Nyx during an outing to the park, Elain reacts the same way she did that day on the battlefield: by going for the throat. Azriel distracts her in the aftermath.

Hindsight — Elain Archeron used to be the world's darling, a sweet, wholesome pop superstar with millions of best friends. Her star never seemed to stop rising… Until a slighted ex leaked a video of Elain slut-shaming another singer. Now, she's launching a comeback album to tell her side of the story, and she knows her bodyguard, Azriel Shadowsinger, will do everything in his power to ensure she's never hurt like that again. Modern AU. On indefinite hiatus.

Glitch* — After a messy breakup with her college sweetheart, Elain retreated from her life as a social butterfly, moved home to Velaris, and started a work-from-home career as a shibari artist and a playful, kinky influencer on social media. Her little sister, Feyre, is eager to get Elain out of hiding—and to set her up with a man to whom she might cling for some peace and quiet. However, there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to Feyre’s long-time friend and the local kindergarten teacher, Azriel. PWP.

The Altar, Part 2 — Prompt fill for Elain tying Azriel up and blindfolding him. PWP.

Breathless — Azriel and Elain do the dishes after a family dinner. PWP.

Nessian

The Altar, Part 1 — Prompt fill for Kinktober with Nessian. PWP.

Everybody Agrees, Everybody Agrees — “Good. He hates you, too,” Cassian shot back. “Everyone fucking hates you. Is that what you want? Because congratulations, it’s happened.” And for once, Nesta’s sharp tongue failed her. Angst, fix-it.

Elucien

Elain Archeron’s Guide to Etiquette, 1st Edition — Feyre said Lucien Vanserra was the finest emissary she knew. That he was raised a prince. But all Elain could see was the awkward small talk and the graceless manners. PWP.

A Million Little Shining Stars — After following the sad, lonely tugging on their mating bond to Velaris on Elain's birthday, Lucien finds that cheering her up is easier than anticipated. Oneshot.

Gwynlain

tiger lilies in the sun — With most of the Inner Circle on a diplomatic visit to the Summer Court, Elain decides that babysitting duties are easier split between several people and a sentient house. Nyx plays matchmaker. Fluff.

Casslain

To Everything a Season — A series of seasonal, post-ACOWAR AU prompt fill ficlets that tell the story of how Elain and Cassian came together. Fluff.

Gwynriel

Move Fast, Keep Quiet — When Azriel finds himself in a Summer Court hospital, the Night Court sends their only available agent to extract him before his diplomatic visit can turn into an international incident: the wife he didn't know he had. Oneshot.

Three Brothers, Three Sisters

His Mothers’ Child — During an afternoon in the garden with her sisters and her nephew, Nesta learns more about the consequences of her sacrifice at the end of Silver Flames. Somehow, the thought of co-parenting with her brother-in-law is not entirely unwelcome.

A Court of Divinity and Ashes — When Elain Archeron was twelve years old, she disappeared on her way to the market. Ten years later, both of Nesta Archeron’s little sisters are gone. Dead, she presumes... Until Feyre shows up on her doorstep with pointed ears and three faerie males dressed for war. Until Nesta is bound and gagged before a faerie king with a pale, hollow-eyed woman she doesn’t recognize standing beside her. On hiatus; reworked this fic into Visions of You.

#my fics #feysand #elriel #nessian #elucien #gwynlain #casslain #nessriel #masterlist #acotar #fic #fics

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pinkrasberryfish · 1 year

Photo

I’m alive and have just posted Chapter 5 of my ballet ACOTAR Nessian/Elriel AU. Both my babies have been sick recently and I’ve had no time to write, so you best believe I’m thrilled to be back tumbling with all of you 😭

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43076520/chapters/109200810

#elriel #elriel fic #nessian #nessian fic #elriel fanfic #nessian fanfic #elriel au #nessian au #elriel nessian fic #elriel fanfiction #nessian fanfiction

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rose-of-the-grave · 15 days

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Acotar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

*indicates 18+

^indicates series

✓indicates request

Hi! Here are all of the links to all of my writing. As always no reposting anywhere, even if you credit me. Feel free to like, comment, and reblog as much as you want. Some of my fics will be 18+ and others won't so please read the warnings. Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist. All of my fics have Ao3 links on them so you can read them there as well. My requests are always open <3

Gwynriel

I Don't Love Her Anymore (.6k)

Paper Bird (1.4k)

Revelations Pt.2 (1.3k)

*Sleeping On The Job (1.8k)

Two Can Share (2.8k)

Feysand

*Letting Go (1.2k)

Nessian

*Fantasies Come To Life (.8k)

Neris

*✓Castle (5.9k)

Elucien

Revelations (1.5k)

Taking A Step In The Right Direction (2k)

Metro Meet-Cute (1.4k)

Elriel

^Hades and Persephone Retelling (3/3) (4.5k)

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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

This is officially the last chapter of the 12 Days of Christmas series! I want to thank everyone who took a little of their time to read these stories. You guys mean the world to me and I'm so lucky to be able to write to such an amazing fandom. Every comment, every like, every reblog means everything to me and I take your appreciation with me every time I'm writing a new story.

You can also find this series on AO3

12th day of christmas - Christmas Dinner

A Blessing. All of it - Rhysand Drabble

The High Lord of the Night Court wasn’t known to be a very emotional male. He had a reputation all across Prythian, and it certainly wasn’t one that spoke of his sensitivities. He had a role to fill, and he had filled it gladly in order to protect his family. To protect Feyre.

That High Lord, however, was nowhere to be found tonight.

As his inner circle gathered around the dining table, chatting, and eating, Rhysand couldn’t help but feel unfiltered joy settle deep into his bones. Wherever he looked, love and happiness shone as bright as the candles flickering on the table, sending a warm haze all around the living room. The scent of holly and pine was as strong as scent of the meal Elain, Nuala and Cerridwen had so carefully prepared - and not nearly as mouthwatering.

By his side, Feyre sipped her wine as she chatted with Morrigan about her studio, his cousin offering her own advice every once in a while. Azriel, on the other side of the table, seemed too enthralled by whatever Elain was telling him to even notice the smile blooming on his face - a rare sight to see. For her part, Elain seemed just as enchanted. Across from Rhys, Nesta and Amren were engaged in a heated debate about books, Cassian chewing his food and nervously looking on as if prepared to intervene if necessary.

Rhys looked down at the babe drooling all over his shirt, a smile tugging up at his lips. Nyx had crashed only minutes after they had all sat down for dinner, the excitement of his first Solstice too draining for his tiny body. His little first was wrapped around Rhysand's sweater, his covered, little feet kicking him in the stomach every so often, as if Nyx was trying to take flight in his own dreams. Rhys was completely enraptured. Incredulous, too, seemed appropriate, for the truth was that he had lived many, many lives – had known loss, and heartbreak, and pain. But never had he known happiness like this; love like this. He’d never imagined he'd be deserving of it in the first place.

Now, he couldn’t imagine it being any different. Every tortuous road had led him to this table, surrounded by the people he had loved the most. As hard as it had been, they had all found each other – broken and lost – and against all odds they had made a family. A bickering, messy, but true family.

As he rubbed his son’s back, as he felt Feyre’s hand reach out for his under the table, he could feel no regrets - what had made him cold and lethal to the world had been what allowed them all to be here tonight. For that alone, he would not - could not - have changed a thing. No, he simply looked up at the stars and thanked them - tonight, there was no war, no duels, no political scheming. For at least tonight, it was their turn to just be.

And what a blessing that was.

#rhysand #pro rhysand #drabble #12 days of christmas acotar edition #elain archeron #azriel #elriel #feyre archeron #feysand #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #morrigan #amren #nyx #nyx x feyre x rhys #christmas fic #acotar fic

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roselensedeyes · 7 months

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Sisters of the Moon

Happy @elainarcheronweek everyone! For Day Two: Sister and Friend, I wrote a short one shot about Feyre and Elain travelling the continent like they wanted to in book one. I liked writing this story, I resonate a lot with both Feyre and Elain! I hope you enjoy this!

Pairing: elriel (if you squint)

Rating: sfw

Word count: 3.3 k

Elain Archeron adjusted her floppy hat and sighed. They were late.

She couldn’t even be mad, not really.

A few months ago, her sister, Feyre, and her brother-in-law, Rhysand, had approached her with a proposal she couldn’t refuse. At first, she’d been wary when she saw the two of them walk toward her with two big smiles on their faces. But as they talked, her wariness turned into delight. She’d accepted readily, squealing and clapping her hands like a child who had been given her favorite candy.

Now, two months later, Elain was waiting in front of the carriage that was supposed to take her, Feyre and her nephew, Nyx, to the coast. From there, they’d get on a ship that would take them to the continent.

Elain remembered a conversation with her sister a few years prior, where they’d decided to travel the continent together. She’d be the first to admit she’d forgotten all about that, what with the war and Feyre’s pregnancy. But it appeared her younger sister hadn’t forgotten it, and for her birthday this year, decided to give Elain this precious gift.

The three of them would go by themselves at first, and Rhys would join them after a couple of weeks. He’d claimed he had to look over the finances, but Elain knew it was just an excuse. He’d never leave Feyre and Nyx for more than a few hours, but he wanted to allow his mate and her sister bond, to give them a chance to build a relationship their childhoods denied them.

Nyx, or Nyxie, as he was lovingly called by his family, however, was still too young to be away from Feyre for weeks, which meant he’d have to come with them, consequently meaning Rhysand wouldn’t see him for two weeks. It came as no surprise, then, that they were late. He was probably soaking up all the love his mate and their child had to give him.

Elain’s heart clenched at the thought. She yearned for a love like theirs, to create a family as beautiful as theirs. But it wasn’t her time, not yet. Soon, she would have all of it. She just had to be patient.

She sighed and leaned against the carriage door. Elain glanced up at the sky, her hat shielding her brown eyes from the sun’s blinding light, hoping to catch Feyre and Rhysand in the sky. The warmth kissed her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, bathing in it. It was a quiet morning, the occasional chirping of birds in the distance the only sound. The sweet perfume of her flowers reached her nostrils, and she inhaled its scent. Elain let out another sigh. It was such a peaceful moment.

She snapped her eyes open as a thumping sound came from a few feet in front of her. She heard, more than saw, Nyx let out a happy gurgle. Elain couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. She loved her nephew more than anything else in the world.

Nyx saw her and started squealing excitedly, babbling, “tee, tee”, which Elain knew meant auntie. She headed towards them, her arms out to grab Nyx. After peppering him with kisses, Elain settled him in her arms, his head gently laying in the crook of her neck, she finally turned toward her sister and brother-in-law.

Rhysand was the first to plant a big kiss on her cheeks, followed by Feyre who tried to hug her around her son. “Hi, Elain. Sorry for being late.”

She waved her apologies away. “It’s no matter, I understand. Is everything ready now?”

Feyre nodded, just as Rhysand helped put their trunks on the second carriage, a smaller one. They chatted a bit more, with Rhys holding and kissing and cuddling his son and mate. Elain looked away at that, giving them their privacy.

It was then that she noticed three other figures. She huffed out a laugh. The sound startled one of them, the female one. Nesta, her older sister.

Elain approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Hi, Nesta.”

Nesta smiled back at her.

Ever since she’d started training with Cassian and her friends, Nesta had become happier, healthier. She’d gained some weight, her skin had a healthy glow to it that made her devastatingly beautiful. Though the biggest change in her older sister were her features. They were no longer sharp and severe. No, now they were graced by soft, bright smiles, the crinkles around her eyes proof of it.

“Elain,” Nesta greeted her. She gestured to the two Illyrian males flanking her sides. “We wanted to wish you and Feyre safe travels. We didn’t want to interrupt the two love birds, though”. The second part was accompanied by an affectionate eye roll. Elain smiled, just as Cassian snorted.

“That’s bullshit. You were trying not to cr—ouch!” Nesta elbowed him in the stomach, effectively stopping him from continuing. Yet Elain knew what he meant to say.

She turned to look at her older sister. Feyre and Elain had asked Nesta if she wanted to come with them on their travels, but unfortunately she and her friends, along with Mor and Cassian, were to start a training class for the other priestesses and had to decline the offer. Elain knew it ate away at Nesta, that she felt like she was disappointing her sisters once again, no matter how many times Feyre and Elain assured her that it wasn’t the case.

The relationship between the three sisters had improved since the day Nyx was born, since the day they had almost lost Feyre and Rhysand. It was what had brought them closer, the freight of losing one of them for good gave them the push they needed to form the relationship they always should have had.

“I wish you could come with us Nesta, but,” Elain rushed to add when she saw Nesta’s face fall. “I understand why you can’t. What you’re doing is admirable, the help you can offer these women is nothing short of amazing. I’m proud of you, I’m proud to call you my sister.”

A faint blush dusted Nesta’s cheeks, deepening the more Elain spoke. Elain saw Cassian’s hand land on the small of his mate’s back, offering her a small comfort.

Elain glanced at the other male. Azriel. He was already staring at her, an intense look in his eyes that made her own cheeks flush. She quickly looked away, a strange fluttering in her chest. He’d always had that effect on her, since the first time she’d laid eyes on him, when she was still engaged to Graysen.

Elain shook her head, willing those thoughts away. Today was about her and Feyre— and Nyx— not anyone else.

Her younger sister and her family had joined them, Nyx now latching onto his uncle Cass— or, as he called him, Unc Cashy. She probably was biased, Elain knew, but she firmly believed that Nyx was the most adorable baby in existence.

Several minutes later, Elain and her younger sister waved their family goodbye as the carriage moved forward. Feyre had Nyx on her knees, her hand wrapped loosely around his tiny wrist to make him wave at his father and uncles and aunt. Elain could have sworn Rhysand’s eyes were shining with unshed tears.

As their figures became smaller and smaller, Elain turned to face her beloved sister again. “Thank you. For this trip,” she said.

A small graced Feyre’s lips. “There’s no need. I wanted to do this, with you.”

Flashes of their childhood blurred Elain’s visions, making her recall those winter nights that the three sisters spent cuddled in that too-tiny bed, seeking a warmth not even the fireplace could offer. Those scorching hot summer nights, when sleeping was rendered uncomfortable by the inevitable sweating, and the fights and ugly words that ensued. Their rumbling, aching bellies when Feyre was unable to hunt any animal, and the money too scarce to afford anything other than stale bread.

A knot formed in her throat, and no matter how many times she tried, Elain couldn’t seem to swallow past it.

“I’m sorry, you know,” she whispered.

Feyre inclined her head inquisitively. “What for?”

Elain swallowed again. “For the way your childhood was. You were the youngest in our household, yet we forced you to be the adult. I’m sorry you were never allowed to be a child, I’m sorry we never taught you how to read. You deserved better, and we—I disappointed you.”

Quietness enveloped the carriage, Nyx’s babbling the only sound to be heard.

When Feyre at last spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve already forgiven you. I spent years of my life resenting you and Nesta for not helping me enough, even when I begged you to. I always felt like I didn’t belong, and I resented you for that too.” She shook her head. “I’m ashamed to admit I hated you for how close you were. And I blamed you for it, because if I didn’t have to focus on making sure there was food on the table and enough wood to warm us during the coldest nights, then maybe I could become a part of your bond too. It was all I ever wanted.”

Elain’s sight became blurry, and she felt a lone tear run down her cheek. It was soon followed by countless others, yet not a sound came out of her. She’d learned through the years how useful silent crying was.

“I’m so sorry. The way we treated you, I– It’s my biggest regret. I wish I could have a good enough reason.” The guilt was clear in her words.

Feyre smiled faintly. “I appreciate your words, though unnecessary as they might be. As I was saying, that’s how I felt. Becoming a mother gave me a whole new perspective.”

The High Lady of the Night Court adjusted her son in her arms as she reached forward to grab her older sister’s hands. “Elain, you and Nesta were not responsible for me, for our house. Our father was. He was the one who failed me, failed all of us. Should you two have helped me out? Perhaps. But it wasn’t your job, it wasn’t your role. I took it on when I saw he wasn’t going to move a finger, and I would have appreciated your help, but I can’t, I refuse to imagine my Nyxie taking on a role his living parent should do.”

Elain had to hide her wince at Feyre’s words. It stung hearing her be so harsh to their father, though he deserved it.

While Nesta was doted on by their mother and grandmother, Elain had been pretty much ignored by them. They’d always speak to her with a condescending tone whenever she talked about her garden and plants, always dismissing her as she tried making herself heard. She remembers spending sleepless nights silently crying in her bed, trying to conjure up ways to make her mother love and listen to her.

She never succeeded.

Yet her father never once made her feel wrong or stupid, always made her feel like she was more than just a pretty face, as she’d once overheard her mother call her. The sweetest memories of Elain’s childhood were of sitting on her father’s knees, telling him all the new things she’d learned about plants, of the best way to grow orchids, and how to get rid of ivy. He’d ooh and ahh at the right times, and in turn would tell her all the flowers he’d seen on his travels to the continent, and promised her he would one day take her to see them.

He never did, and now, he never would honor his vow to her.

But her father broke more than one promise. Feyre was right, their father had betrayed them the moment he gave up. He had failed them in the most painful way a parent could fail their child. She remembered the hours staring at her father, willing him to get up, to do something, anything, and the feeling of betrayal churning in her stomach. Elain had tried to make excuses for him. She’d tried to remember those moments in the garden under the sun, her father, his kind eyes so much like hers, reassuring that all would be well, that the next time her flowers would bloom, as his thumbs wiped away her tears. Yet none of the warm memories she recalled helped lessen the blow he’d dealt her.

Elain’s father had always been the one person on her side, until he wasn’t. Until he decided to let his shame wrap around him.

“You’re right,” Elain nodded to her sister. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have helped you. I wasn’t there for you, and I’m sorry. Like I wasn’t responsible for your well-being, neither were you of me. And yet you embraced it.”

Feyre nodded. “Perhaps. But I don’t resent you for it, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up.”

Elain smiled gratefully. She closed her eyes, hoping the rhythm of the carriage would lull her to sleep.

“I wasn’t there for you either, when you needed me the most.”

Feyre’s words made her eyes snap open. She opened her mouth, confused, but her sister went ahead.

“After what Graysen did I– I wasn’t there. I was focused on the war, and then Nyx and I never asked you how you were doing. If you needed help.”

“Oh,” was all Elain said. “No, don’t. They were more important than a break up.”

Feyre shook her head. “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t focus on you too.” She settled Nyx on her right knee, shifting her body so her left side leaned toward her older sister. “And it wasn’t just a break up. After what happened with Tamlin I–saying I was devastated doesn’t do it justice. Yet no one told me there were more important things to worry about.”

Feyre leaned back in her seat, watching Elain as she waited for her reply. Nyx looked up at his mom, a toothless smile breaking out on his face. She smiled softly back at him, her index grazing his soft cheek. He let out a giggle, his little wings fluttering behind him.

“You’ve always been there for me, Feyre. Even when you weren’t physically there, I could feel you in my heart. We’re sisters.”

She wasn’t ready to talk about Greysen, not yet. She’d gotten over him, rarely thought of him anymore, but the memory still brought her pain, and shame, at times. She’d thought he was the love of her life, but Elain had soon realized the ugly truth of it. No matter how many years passed, Elain was certain she’d never forget the pure hatred and disgust that had marred his features when he broke their engagement, when he’d seen the undeniable proof of her new being. It was the most heartbreaking, humiliating day of her life.

Feyre seemed to read this in her eyes, because she nodded and turned her attention to her son, who was delighting himself with tugging on her hair. Elain smiled at the sight, before casting her eyes on the view outside. It was now midday, the sun high in the sky, its heat almost scorching. The leaves on the trees were a bright green, blatant proof that spring was in full bloom. Closing her eyes in hope of some rest, the movements of the carriage rocked her to a quiet sleep, Nyx’ babbling and Feyre’s soft whispers in the background.

They didn’t travel the entire continent. No, that wouldn’t be feasible, the High Lady and High Lord couldn’t postpone their obligations for that long. Still, Elain’d been mesmerized by the dances and art, the peace that reigned over the territory. She’d acquired many unknown seeds, praying the Prythian climate and terrain would make them sprout. Feyre had promised her they could finish the tour some other time, but Elain had assured her she was content with things as they were. She’d hinted she might return with someone else, to Feyre’s surprise. Her sister had been delighted when she told her who, exactly, she’d travel the rest of the continent with.

Now, two weeks after they’d come back to the Night Court, Elain was getting ready for the welcome back party Nesta had insisted on throwing them. She’d been pretty adamant about it, too. It had stunned her two sisters, and the rest of their family too, really, but Nesta wouldn’t budge.

The lilac tulle dress she opted to wear hugged her curve nicely, but not tight enough to suffocate her. Summer was nearing, and with it the damp heat. Nuala had helped her braid her golden-brown hair in a crown plait. It wasn’t a hairstyle she usually wore, but Elain found she liked it with the gown she was put on.

Voices reached her pointed ears.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, they became clearer and louder. She could hear Cassian’s booming laughter at something Nyx did, followed by Nesta’s reprimand. Her sister was anxious, Elain knew. She wanted everything to go smoothly. As the sitting room came into view, Elain could see Feyre and Rhysand sitting together, the High Lady’s back to his front, the Illyrian’s arm draped across her shoulder in an intimate, possessive gesture. They were looking in the same direction, to Cassian standing in front of the fireplace. Nyx was on the floor, his back to her, and she could see his wings flapping swiftly behind him. To her shock, her nephew started floating in the air. She almost cried out, but something poked her shoulder.

It was a shadow. Elain scanned the room until her eyes settled on its owner.

Azriel was on the other side of the room, near her. He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. His ease made her relax slightly, and when she realized Feyre and Rhysand weren’t at all worried, she loosened up.

She gave Azriel a small of her own, noticed the way his eyes darkened as they fixed on her mouth. Elain felt a flush creep up her neck, and glanced away.

Nesta was already looking at her. Elain smiled and walked toward her, her arms already out to embrace her sister.

“Hi, Nes. Thank you for this,” she said.

Nesta smiled, tense. “I hope you like it. I’m not as good at this stuff as you.”

“It’s perfect. I love it, really.”

“If my mate didn’t try to injure my nephew, and subsequently destroy the decorations I spent a lot of time putting up, I’m sure it’s going to be a great night,” her sister said, throwing a faux glare in Cassian’s direction.

He chuckled. “It’s normal play for Illyrians. He’s going to need to learn sooner or later, and at least now all of us are here.”

Indeed, Amren and Mor were both in the room. Amren was reading a tome next to the shelves, while Mor was lounging on a chair.

Nesta huffed. “That doesn’t mean that I like it. I rather Nyx be in one piece, thank you very much.”

Feyre laughed. Nesta looked at her, saw the ease and contentment painted on her face, and smiled too. The first real smile of the night.

Elain sat in a chair near the shadows, and as she watched her family talk, laugh, and bicker, she couldn’t help but let a smile of her own come out.

When she’d seen this image, years ago, it had been impossible to believe they’d ever reach this level of lightheartedness. That they could all sit around in the same room and not tear each other’s throats out.

In the years since she was turned Fae, Elain Archeron had had many visions, some of them proving true, some that never saw the light of day.

As a shadow played with her hair, tickling her neck, she sent her thanks to the Mother for letting this one come true.

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