#finally had something for lucien week in mind
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Not Again - Part Twelve
Summary: Y/n is desperate to save her mate, they keep telling her he will be fine, but she knows something is wrong
Warnings: ANGSTY!!!! Madja is a good healer I swear, it’s solely for the plot
Series Masterlist
-Part Twelve-
Wake up, please wake up. Faint, desperate words in his mind. Not his shadows, the voice was female, with a soft, swirling accent like the mountain breeze running through his hair. There’s a feeling, like this female is everything, that he needs to get to her, to tell her something. Fight, Az, come back.
He tried, so hard, it hurt to much.
Mate, mate, mate.
The word beats in her head in time with his heart. She could feel it, beating in time with her own, across the bridge between their souls, the shadowy tether that she could feel like another limb connecting them.
Mate, mate, mate.
Azriel was her mate, this male, laying before her, thick bandages wrapped over the wound on his chest from the arrow he took because of her. Because of a broken goddess, because she knew the anger, the ferocity caused by a mate being hurt, would unlock that fire in Y/n, Mala’s own power, the only thing strong enough to finally kill her. Her mother had only a drop of it left, Y/n had inherited a deep well of it, deeper than she thought she had, a final gift from Mala.
Amren theorized that Deanna had opened the gate that brought Y/n to them. That she was trying to bring Y/n to whatever world she’d been trapped in, to use the power in her veins to gift her the death she desired, but something happened when the gate opened, the bond between her and Azriel had altered her course, had brought her to him. A gift from the Wyrd, to find her mate all the way across the stars.
Mate, mate, mate.
The gate Y/n had opened had been hijacked by Deanna before it could find Terrasen, and the goddess was able to take the Walking Dead and open her own gate. Amren assumed that, without Deanna’s interference, the gate would work as it should, that they would be able to try it again. She could go home now, could see her parents, her family, Terrasen.
Mate, mate, mate.
It had been nearly a week, since Deanna, since that arrow had pierced Azriel’s chest and she had felt that mating bond between them. Felt it thin as his heart slowed in his chest. It had felt like she was dying with him. A healer, Madja, had tried to lay her hands on him, Y/n had been so deep in a furious red haze that she almost burned the female alive. A red shield had surrounded her as Cassian had ripped her away, she’d almost killed him too, Madja had to heal the burns left on his arms. Feyre had been the one to finally calm her down, arms covered in cold water so she could hold onto Y/n’s scorching skin.
“He’s okay!” She had screamed, when the water had started to boil. “She’s healing him, Y/n look! It missed his heart, he’s okay!”
Y/n had watched the arrow clatter to the floor, the blood coating it, and the wound slowly stitching together beneath the healer’s hands. Feyre let her go, only when Y/n had gone practically limp in her arms. She’d crumbled to the floor, no longer supported by the High Lady, and she crawled towards him, laid down beside him, and pulled on that bond, refusing to let him go.
A week had passed, and she hadn’t attempted to open a gate, to go home, she’d barely even left his room. She couldn’t, not when he was still asleep, not when this bond in her chest was the only indication that he was still alive. Would she still feel it if she left? Will it feel like when he’d almost died, that thinning, that pain, that fear? The thought was so terrifying, so painful, she couldn’t even attempt it, wouldn’t step in that room that still smelled of his blood.
Wake up, shadowsinger, please.
He didn’t.
The inner court checked on her and Azriel periodically, rotating through, Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, Nesta, Elain, Lucien, over and over again. Even Amren had visited a few times, she’d been the one to finally drag her to the dining room to eat with the rest of the court.
“You can come back and wallow in your misery after you eat, girl.”
Amren didn’t practice kindness, not in the way many would. Forcing her out of that room, quite literally dragging her down the hall, was her form of being kind, of reaching out to make sure Y/n was okay. She wasn’t, she was far from okay, but she let the tiny female force her into her seat, met the concerned eyes of each of the court members, and ate whatever the house forced onto her plate.
“He’ll be okay,” Cassian says gently, his own voice weighed down by his concern for his brother, “Madja has healed worse injuries, he’s had worse.”
She didn’t want to know what those injuries were, “I know.”
“Y/n-“
“How long did you all know,” she cuts him off, looking between each of them, “That he and I were mates? I’m assuming you all know.”
A few of them had the decency to look ashamed. Feyre especially, who gives her mate a hard stare, no doubt speaking to him in his mind. By the way he winces, Y/n assumes it’s not a pleasant conversation.
“After the fight you two had,” Rhys starts, “I had Amren ask the Book of Breathings for more answers, she wrung the information out of it. I told Azriel what it had said, I left it to him on how to tell you.”
After their fight, when he’d disappeared for hours and hours, when she’d felt so lost and miserable, an echo of how he felt. He’d come back, had known exactly how awful she was feeling, called her a coward.
“I wanted to tell you,” Feyre says, glaring at her family around her, “I know how awful it is to be left in the dark-“
“He should have told me,” Y/n says, no heat, no anger, “Azriel should have told me.”
Cassian winces at the cold emptiness in her voice, “He wanted to, but he didn’t want to burden you with it, to hold you back from getting home.”
“He should have told me,” she says again, voice so cold, “He doesn’t get to call me a coward, while he was hiding this.”
“Y/n,” Mor’s gentle voice, “He didn’t want to hurt you.”
Of course he didn’t, that’s not why she was upset. She knew that Azriel cared about her, cared enough that he would suffer beneath the weight of this mating bond alone so she wouldn’t have to. He would take an arrow for her, again and again, and that was terrifying, that he would die for her without ever telling her why. That he would die and leave her behind knowing that she lost the mate she hadn’t even known she’d had.
Y/n stands, ignoring the pity in their eyes, the understanding in the eyes of the High Lady’s, the anger on her behalf from Nesta, the disappointment from Amren. She didn’t want any of it, any of them, she wanted her mother, her father, her family. More than anything, she wanted Azriel.
Days passed, Azriel kept sleeping. Something was wrong, so unbelievably wrong, he should have woken by now, he’d been asleep to long. Y/n couldn’t do anything, the panic pressing down like the mountain had crumbled around her, pinning her beneath the red stone. She yanked on that bond, begging and yelling for him to, wake up, wake up, please, Az, wake up.
Nothing, just that faint steady presence of his heartbeat, the bridge of shadows dark on his side like he couldn’t even dream in his sleep.
Madja looked him over, changing his bandages, she found nothing wrong, he just needed rest. That’s what they all kept telling her, he’ll be okay, Y/n, he needs to rest.
She wanted to scream, to burn the next fae that told her he was okay, he wasn’t, something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Please, Azriel, I need you to wake up.
He wanted to tell her something, needed to tell her something. He tried so hard to wake, to reach for her, but he couldn’t.
I’m here, Princess. I’m here.
“Help,” she’s screaming, “Help, please! Cassian!”
Azriel’s body violently shakes beneath her hands, his skin hot and coated in sweat. She’d woken to his limbs colliding with her own, part of her had thought he’d woken up, but when she’d shot up, seen his eyes still closed, felt the intense pain coming from him down the bond, she screamed and screamed for help.
A seizure, he was having a seizure. She’d spent time in the southern continent, at the torre with her aunt. Learning the basics of healing because she was fascinated with it as a young teenager. There had been a man who was yelling for help, his wife had collapsed in the street and she was shaking. The healers had helped her, her aunt had described the situation as a seizure, told her what to do. She knew what to do, but in this moment she was panicking to much to do it.
The door slams open, Cassian running, dagger in hand, “Mother above.”
“Get the healer,” she screams, “Get Rhys, Feyre, anyone, please!”
That far away look in his eyes, “They’re on their way, just hold on.”
“Help me turn him on his side,” Y/n pleads, forcing herself to breathe, to do what her aunt had instructed her to do.
Cassian rushes to her, helping her haul his brother up and onto his side, “How long has he been like this?”
“I don’t know, a few minutes maybe,” she says, “Where’s Madja?”
“Almost here,” he answers, that look in his eye, “Rhys is flying them up now.”
Y/n gently holds Azriel, his shaking form beneath her palms, whispering down that shadowy bridge between them, You’re okay, it’s going to be okay, it’s okay.
She didn’t believe herself at all. Not even when the seizure subsided, not when Madja had arrived with a frantic Rhys in tow, not when she checked him over and found nothing outwardly wrong with him.
“All we can do is wait,” Madja says, laying a gentle hand on Y/n’s shoulder, before leaving with Rhys and Cassian.
She couldn’t wait anymore.
The room is pitch black, the moon and stars covered by clouds in the sky, the only light comes from the small candle in her hand. It still smells of his blood, the whole room reeks of it, his combining with her own.
The cut on her arm was a dull ache, barely noticeable beneath the pain and fear in her heart. Her blood was warm on her fingertips, she pressed them to the floor and drew, drew the symbols she’d memorized, drew the name she had learned as a child, one of many.
Her voice sounded hallow in her ears, the painful words tearing through her vocal chords. The blood turns green, casting the room in its sickly light. Her hands shook as she finished, wide eyes staring into the darkness.
“What is that?”
She almost sobs at the voice, at the woman who comes into view, peering into the gate. The only person she could think of that would know what to do, to save him.
“Yrene,” her voice broke as the woman’s eyes landed on her, “I need your help.”
“Oh gods,” her aunt sobs loudly, “Y/n, my darling girl where have you-“
The door behind her aunt flies open, a man as familiar as her own father running through, sword raised to protect his wife, “What is it? What’s wrong-”
He spots the gate, sliding to a stop, “Y/n? My gods-“
“Please,” Y/n sobs, “I need help, please something is wrong, he won’t wake up, a seizure, he can’t, I can’t-“
“Y/n slow down,” Chaol lowers his sword, “Sweetheart breathe, calm down, who’s hurt, where are you?”
“Yrene please, he needs your help,” Y/n begs, she falls to her knees, her hands raised over her head, palms up, “Please, help him.”
There’s a shift in the air as Yrene steps through the gate, Y/n sobs when her aunt’s hands grasp her own. Yrene pulls Y/n to her feet, supporting her weight. Behind her, Chaol takes a step towards them but Yrene shakes her head.
“Get Aelin and Rowan,” she commands.
Chaol looks ready to argue, but a sharp look from his wife has him nodding once, “Be careful, my love”
“Where is he?”
Y/n runs, forcing herself to slow down, to keep pace with Yrene’s human form. She follows that bond, pulling on it, feeling the heartbeat on the other side and nothing more. It was like Azriel was barely there, blocked, hidden from her.
She felt then, a rumbling power, night kissed darkness. Rhys was coming, he’d felt the portal open no doubt, she didn’t care to stop, to explain to him what she had done. He could wait, Azriel couldn’t.
The door to his room is wide open, the house already knew what was happening, the room lit by fae lights. Yrene didn’t hesitate, just ran to the bed, to Azriel.
“What happened?”
It was a struggle to keep calm long enough to briefly describe what had happened, that he’d been shot in the chest by the goddess Deanna, that he’d been in a coma ever since. Yrene lays her hands over Azriel’s chest, faint warm light glowing from her palms. Her magic searching, washing over him and into that wound beneath his bandages.
“What is this?” That night kissed power explodes into the room, “Get your hands off my brother!”
Y/n throws herself in his path, a cold harsh wind blowing him back, “Rhys stop! She’s helping him, this is my aunt, I told you about her.”
“You opened a gate? Alone?” His voice is scathing, “What if something had happened again? You almost died last time! Damnit Y/n, you could have asked-”
“I needed to do something, I couldn’t keep waiting,” she snaps, her voice breaking, “Rhys I can’t- I can’t lose him.”
The anger in Rhys shatters, “I know, Y/n, I know, me too.”
“I don’t know what’s going on over there,” Yrene calls out, “But I could use some help.”
Y/n turns from Rhys, offering no translation, “What? what is it?”
“There’s something here,” Yrene says, hand hovering over the bandages, “Magic, it’s old, older than the valg. It feels similar though, to what was paralyzing your uncle, it’s attached to his heart.”
“What can I do?”
“Hold him down,” she says, “Get the angry one to help, this is probably going to hurt really bad.”
“Rhys,” Y/n throws over her shoulder, “Help me hold him down.”
The High Lord does without hesitation, “What’s wrong with him? What is she doing?”
Almost in response, Azriel screams. Arching off the bed, wings flaring beneath him, almost knocking Y/n over. Rhys throws his weight over his brothers kicking legs, using some of that power to restrain him. Y/n’s own wind holds Azriel down where she can’t reach, keeping his arm from swinging into Yrene.
His screams are so achingly painful, shouting down the bond between them, the first sign of him she’d had in nearly two weeks.
“You’re okay,” she shushes him, “It’s going to be okay. Just hold on.”
He screams and screams, tears streaming down his cheeks. Y/n can only hold on, can only cry with him. Every feeling is thrown down the bond, like it had been opened like a door between their minds, pain, fear, agony, Y/n could feel it all like it was her own chest, like it was being torn open, like her heart was being ripped out.
“I’ve almost got it,” her aunt says through clenched teeth, “Just a little while longer.”
Hold on, just hold on. She hopes he can hear her, he only screams in response. Roaring loud enough to shake the mountain beneath them. She screams with him, her already hoarse voice shattering, she could taste blood on her tongue.
A bright silver light shines through Yrene’s warm healing glow. It nearly blinds Y/n, she has to squint to see what it even was. Slowly pulling it from Azriel’s chest, it looked almost like a worm made of moon fire, writhing inside a bubble of Yrene’s magic.
Azriel slumps to the bed, breathing hard and fast, his eyes do not open. Y/n collapses against him, cradling his head to her chest, her fingers running through his hair.
“What is that?”
She looks up at Rhys, “One last fuck you from Deanna.”
The magic reeks of the goddess, a shred of her left in it, mocking, laughing. Y/n holds out her hand, and her aunt wordlessly drops the silver thing into her hand. It writhes in her palm, she glares at it, at the final shred of the wretched goddess.
“Go to Hel,” she spits, and her palm lights in the deepest, hottest blue flame, until there’s nothing left.
Wake, wake up, here, she’s here, wake up, tell her, wake up! The voices hurt his head, adding to the pain that radiates through his whole body. It hurt, his head, his chest, his heart, it all hurt.
He couldn’t force his eyes to open, so he relies on his other senses. He was laying down, surrounded by soft pillows and blankets, warm. From the scent surrounding him, he was in his own room, but there was another scent, pine and snow and embers, home. It clung to the pillows beside him, he wants to turn his face into it and inhale deeply. He tries, but the motion causes his already aching head to scream in pain.
“Az?”
That voice, soft and swirling air, the northern breeze that caught in his wings and lifted him high into the sky. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, her voice, the one he’d heard in his dreams, the one begging him to wake. He had to tell her something, desperately needed to tell her.
“Princess-“ he coughs, his throat felt like sand paper, felt like he had been screaming.
“Here,” she says.
He feels the bed dip beside him, something cold presses to his lips, water. The cold liquid slides over his tongue soothing the pain in his throat. He drinks deeply for several seconds, groaning when she takes the glass away.
“You’ll make yourself sick,” she chides.
He wanted to open his eyes, to see her, to tell her everything, “Princess, I-“
Her hand in his, so right, so perfect, “I know, shadowsinger, I know.”
Azriel finally forces his eyes open, the sunlight shines through the open curtains, settling over her like a blanket of gold. Beautiful, so achingly beautiful. He could feel her, that tether of shadow more like a solid bridge between them.
“You know,” he breathes, “How-“
“You should have told me,” she stops him, her hand shaking in his palm, “Gods, Az, you should have told me. Instead, I watched an arrow go into your chest, I felt you dying on the other side of the bond.”
The words send a shock of pain through his chest, like that arrow was finding home in his heart once again. It echoes the pain she felt, still feels.
“It felt like I was dying with you,” she says, her eyes burning with lingering rage, “I killed her. I didn’t think, couldn’t, I felt that bond in my chest, knew that you were my mate, and she had tried to take you from me. I burned her to nothing but ash.”
Azriel could only stare at the female, she had killed a goddess, an ancient terrible creature, for him. His mate, his viscous warrior of a mate, gods killer.
“You should have told me,” she repeats again, and Azriel can feel the anger and the fear she feels, “You almost died, and I- I didn’t- I couldn’t- You“
“I’m sorry.” The broken words tear into his heart, “I’m so sorry, Princess.”
“I know,” she takes a deep breath, “I know why you hid it, I understand that, I just- I almost lost you before I’d even known I had you.”
Her face falls, looking down at the hands in her lap that fidget with the loose black fabric. Night court black, it almost seemed like mourning black to Azriel.
“Hey.” It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to lift his scarred hand to her cheek, turning her face back to him, “I’m okay, you still have me, if you still want me.”
Her eyes are lined with silver tears as she nods once, a simple gesture that breaks and rebuilds every part of his soul. He didn’t need some big mating ceremony, didn’t need a party, didn’t need her to offer him food, just that nod, that simple yes, was more than enough.
Despite the pain, Azriel sits up, cradling her face in the palm of his hand, marveling at the sight of her wide eyes, no cold, no heat, just full of wonder. A single tear runs down her cheek and Azriel leans in, kissing away the drop.
“You’re my mate,” he whispers against her skin, it feels like a weight lifting off his shoulders, off his heart, “Mine.”
She pulls back, just enough to look into his eyes and say, “And you are mine.”
Azriel runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek, “My beautiful, wonderful, vicious mate.”
She smiles and he could fall apart completely. He looks down at those lips, soft and sweet, and Azriel kisses his mate, and for once in his life, everything felt right.
Y/n had been the first to pull away from the kiss, so achingly gentle, “You must be starving.”
Azriel’s eyes were firmly locked on her lips as he said, “Yes I am.”
Every instinct in him was roaring to keep kissing her, to do more than that. His mate, gods this was his mate.
“You’ve been asleep for nearly two weeks, you need to eat.”
That gets his attention, his dark brows furrowed, “Two weeks?”
“The others are waiting in the dining room,” she says gently, “We can wait, we’ll go whenever you’re ready, but your family is desperate to see you.”
He’d been asleep for two weeks, they’d be beside themselves with worry, his brothers especially. There’s two voices in his head, one begging to see them, one that remembers that they’d also seen that arrow go into his chest, had watched as he nearly died. The other voice begs him to stay, to lay this female down and claim her in every way he could, his mate.
“You’re still recovering,” Y/n says, hand coming up to rest on the bandages over his chest, “Eat first, see your family. I’m not going anywhere.”
Yet. That unspoken word, she wasn’t going anywhere yet. He wonders if she heard it too, wonders if she could feel his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.
Azriel wants to scream, instead he swallows it down and says, “Food first then.”
Y/n smiles and Azriel memorizes the image of her, tucks it away for later, ignoring the feeling of sand trickling down an hour glass, like their time was running out.
“Here, let me help.” She stands, grabbing a shirt from the wardrobe.
Azriel throws the covers off, feeling the sore and stiff muscles throughout his body. He forces himself through it, to lift his arms as she pulls the shirt over his head, to breathe as her hands button the shirt beneath his wings. Each step he takes feels like fire lancing through him, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t complain, only holds onto her hand as she guides them through the halls closer and closer to his family.
“Hold on.” He stops, pulling on her hand just before they turn that final corner, “Give me a second.”
Worried eyes, searching him head to toe, “What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need to sit down?”
Azriel smiles, “I’m alright, Princess.”
“What-“
He doesn’t give her the chance to finish her sentence, his arms wrapping around her waist and tugging her to his chest. The smallest gasp leaves her lips and he breathes it in as his lips find hers. He needed one more kiss, to steady himself, to prepare himself for the overbearing love and care from his family.
Y/n holds tightly to his shirt, “Az.”
He squeezes her hips, his name on her tongue was one of his favorite sounds. He hums against her lips, memorizing the feel of this too.
“Az I need to tell you-“
It could wait, everything could wait. He needed her now, who knew how much time he had left with her. He kisses her like he was trying to steal the air from her lungs, so entwined with her, with the feeling of her mouth, of her hands, of her body, his defenses down. Not even his shadows warned him.
A blade pressed between his shoulders, between his wings, the sharp tip digging in just enough to sting, and a lethally calm voice, “I recommend you take your hands off my daughter.”
Tag list
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#a little shorter but whatever#I desperately want to write the next part#it didn’t fit in with this one#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel#acotar x reader#rowaelin daughter#rowaelin#not again
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I like the potential of elucien but they currently have no chemistry. How do you think Sarah will go about their story?
For Elucien it's really as simple as forced proximity. Put them in a situation where they're forced to spend "two weeks alone together" (quote from ACOMAF) and I'm 100% certain that we're going to see exactly why SJM mated them. Heck, give me a day with them alone together, no sisters hovering near by, Elain having no choice but to speak directly too him without the heavy shadow of recent loss hovering over it and we'll see it.
I think some in the fandom are confusing Elain's physical attraction to Az as proof that she has chemistry with him but when physical attraction is used to build romantic chemistry between characters it will always result in a shallow love story. Lucien did find Elain to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen so I'm not saying attraction can't be there but when you have characters giving into that attraction before something deeper has been established, true chemistry is going to fall flat. Having Az tell us he's avoided Elain for a year while she's still recovering from trauma doesn't call to mind that he's someone she was able to lean on, it doesn't make me believe that he feels anything for her because she could have used his friendship during that time (since she wasn't asking for distance) but he chose to stay away.
It calls to mind desperately crushing on someone in high school, where you watch them from afar, hoping for the day you can be together, and then finally you get your wish but you realize you actually don't know this person at all. You're infatuated with the idea of them rather than the real them.
I'm not saying Elain and Lucien have any sort of wild on page chemistry right now but it was kind of difficult for there to be any while she was mourning the loss of her humanity and Graysen. And though there was a little bit of hope that she was ready to move past that by the end of ACOWAR, she regressed in the novella Likewise was zero chemistry on page between Nesta and Cassian in ACOFAS, when she chose to push him away after the war.
Characters can't have chemistry when they are ignoring their possible love interest, you actually have to see them talking.
As far as how Sarah will go about their story, I think there are a few options.
Right now we have already had Elain volunteering to help with the Trove, Rhys saying that Elain is capable of more than they've given her credit for, that gardening results in something pretty but involves one getting their hands dirty along the way, and Elain saying she'll do whatever is needed.
The options are limitless because of the above.
The issues they currently face are:
Beron allying with Koschei and setting his sights on Spring.
The NC reminding us that they need Springs army as an ally but that Tamlin is even worse after the announcement of Feyre's pregnancy.
Koschei preparing to call Vassa back.
Koschei trying to get his hands on the Trove to free himself so he might rule their world.
The NC could decide they need to utilize Elain's Seer powers and send her to Day Court to help her train her powers. They don't seem very knowledgeable on Seers so Helion's library's might be the best place for her to learn how to train her powers.
The could decide a marriage alliance between themselves and other courts might benefit them and Elain could volunteer to marry Lucien because she's so over the concept of love and men after Graysen and Az's rejection that she's decided she'll simply focus on helping the courts rather than marrying for love (the concept was introduced in SF after all and SJM carried it out an arranged marriage trope in HOFAS).
They could send Elain as an emissary "spy" to the Spring Court. Not in the shadows or anything, just acting as their courtier, where she would gather information on the situation there, to be sure Lucien's reporting has been unbiased.
Elain could end up dreaming of the drums of Calanmai and find herself pulled to Spring on her own.
They could send Elain to the continent to retrieve Mor since Feysands daemati range does not work that far and have Lucien accompany her.
Or something SJM imagines up! I don't think any of us guessed how Nessian would end up being forced together in SF.
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Lucien Vanserra Day Court Moodboard
@lucienweek day 3: In Another Life
I would love for Lucien to be in the Day Court as the true heir, be surrounded by people he loves and love him and have the happiness he deserves.
#finally had something for lucien week in mind#there’s something about it I’m not totally satisfied with but idk what it is..#catch the slight glimpse of elucien in day court#lucien#lucien vanserra#lucien spell cleaver#lucienweek#lucienweek2022#lucien vanserra moodboard#acotar moodboard#acotaredit#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#my posts
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The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 2
Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6, Final Part
Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"
AN: omg guys the love part 1 received has been so amazing. I seriously am so happy you're all loving this fic as much as me. As someone who hasn't written in so long it's been so fufilling to write this. Thank you for all the kind words. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!
Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.
Warnings (so far): SA, starting to get a little steamy
Word count: 2704
(all photos are from pinterest)
The next morning I woke with a certain lightness to my step that I knew shouldn’t be there. My hands skimmed over the countless dresses looking for just the right one. All of the sudden I had started caring more about my appearance for council meetings. Deep down I know why.
I meet my brother and Lucien in the foyer per usual, and I feel Lucien’s fiery gaze rake over the lavender chiffon draped over my body. I told myself that I had selected the revealing dress because of how hot the Day court was, but I think I had other motives backing my choice.
The Day Court, like all other courts, was utterly beautiful. Large pillars stood all around and like the summer court it was entirely open air, allowing the sunlight and breeze to float into the room. I sit between Lucien and Tamlin at a large table with the other High Lord’s and nobility. My eyes scan the room for a hint of that violet that I dreamt about last night but I don’t find it. It isn’t until a few minutes later, when my skin starts buzzing, that the High Lord of Night steps into the room. His presence commending, his eyes immediately finding mine.
I feel him pluck at the bond as if to say hello. After speaking to him through my mind for so long it was almost strange to see him in real life. Somehow he was always much more handsome in person. Like no matter how many times I tried to put together the image of his face at night it never compares to the sheer glory and presence of him.
As Helion began speaking a voice crawled into my head.
I’m glad you find me so glorious, darling.
“Shh you nosey High Lord. I’m trying to listen,” I silence him and to my surprise he obliges.
Helion talks on and on and of course there is arguing between Kallias and Beron as there usually is but I couldn’t begin to tell you what about. I spend the entire meeting noticing every move the High Lord of Night made. When he breathed, or flexed his hands, adjusted his spot on his seat. Whenever I felt his eyes sliding over to me I would do my best to evade them.
See something you like? I look over to him and find his eyes smirking.
“Yeah actually, Eris is looking especially delicious today,” I tease, I don’t break eye contact with him.
He chuckles brushing off my comment. You’re a vision in purple mate, but if Lucien looks at your cleavage one more time I might just leap across the table and rip his only good eye out.
“So violent,” I muse disapprovingly, looking towards where Kallias is speaking about potential war with Hybern.
I save my most brutal acts of violence for those who seek to harm you darling. My eyes flit back at him and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he averts his gaze back to Kallias.
“Enough talk of war my friends, let us adjourn this meeting until next week.” Helion finally says, causing the rest of the council to let out a breath.
Tamlin doesn’t say a word before he and Lucien stand and make a beeline to Tarquin, most likely to talk about problems we’ve been having on the border. I take it as my queue to walk around the Day Court’s terrace and I secretly hope that a certain High Lord follows me.
The Day Court and the Summer Court are like twin sisters. Except the Day Court always felt like liquid gold. All around me I could see clouds and honeyed sunlight peeking through the them. The rays warmed my skin as I basked in them, leaning against one of the many large pillars.
“I knew you’d look amazing in this light,” drawled that voice I had secretly wanted to hear.
I glance over to find The High Lord admiring me, the light of the Day Court doing wonders for him as well. “You shouldn’t be here,” I say, trying to act like I mean it.
“Yet you wanted me to follow you,” he smirks knowingly, slowly stepping towards me.
“What makes you say that?”
“This,” he says, pulling on the bond again. I take a sharp breath in and he chuckles. “I’ll never get tired of that reaction.”
“I really hate it when you do that,” I grumble.
“No you don’t,” he muses using one arm to cage me into the pillar I’m leaning against.
“Yes I do,” I affirm. His other hand lifts my chin to meet his stare.
“No you don’t, you don’t hate anything about me. In fact you think I’m beautiful,” he smirks, somehow stepping even closer to me. “And, you want me to touch you right now, your skin is practically on fire for it.”
“My Lord-”
“I told you to call me Rhysand,” he cuts me off. I want to lie and tell him no, I want to push him away but I fear that even the action of me touching his chest, even for a moment, would be too much for me to bear.
“Rhys,” I breathe out. Before I can even think his lips are on mine swallowing the breath that held his name, just like he promised.
The kiss is hot and needy, built up from the last two weeks of torture. One of his hands finds my face while the other finds my waist. His frame presses me into the pillar behind me. I feel my body ignite in a way I didn’t know possible, I need him closer. I pull on the lapels of his jacket earning a low grumble from him.
“Say it again,” he says between kisses.
“Rhysand,” I moan, his name like a prayer on my lips.
“Fuck,” he groans before sliding a hand down under my knee and hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. The slit in my dress parted for him, giving him full access to my bare leg. I feel his lips drag across my neck leaving opened mouth kisses on me. I practically come undone for him, the only thing keeping me upright are his hands and the pillar behind me.
In the distance I can hear footsteps clicking across the floor, in a panic I winnow both of us further away. He breaks apart the kiss and gives me a bewildered look.
“Sorry, someone was coming,” I say breathlessly.
“Let them see,” he grins before stepping closer to me. I take a step back and he halts his movements, surprised.
“We can’t, my brother will kill me, kill you.” I remind him.
He lets out a chuckle like he’s completely unphased, “I promise you that I hold more power in my pinky than Tamilin does in his entire body.” he boasts.
“Still,” I start. “You’re the High Lord of the Night Court, his sworn enemy, my court's sworn enemy. Think of what they would say about me if the truth came out. What they would say about you. You’d be the monster who stole away the princess of spring.” I ramble.
“I’ve been called a monster by those who know nothing but stories of me my whole life, what’s one more?” he states.
“I’ve heard stories of your court, that it’s the part of Prythian where the most feared monsters and beings of our kind reside,” I say fearfully. I start to remember who he is. Not just a pretty face, but the High Lord of the Night Court. He’s dangerous, and he is a monster.
“Part of that is true,” he affirms, and I can see a tinge of hurt in his eyes.
“And the other part?” I ask on bated breath.
“You’ll see soon enough mate,” he says.
“My Lord we cannot be together,” I state firmly.
“Back to formalities now are we?” he sighs. “I’ve waited 500 years to find my mate y/n, don’t think for one second that I’m going to stay away from you just because you’re afraid of that pathetic excuse for a brother.”
“He’s not pathetic, he loves me!” I growl.
“You don’t know half the things you think you do about your brother,” he sneered.
As much as I hated to admit it he was right. Tamlin and I had never truly been close. We hardly ever did anything together. I always sensed a darkness in him that I couldn’t place. There was so much he simply refused to tell me just because I was a woman. But I couldn't bear that truth to Rhys, not when I needed his silence.
“This conversation is over,” I huff before walking away, I feel him grasp my arm.
“No darling it’s not,” Rhys says with frustration in his eyes.
“Wanna bet?” I ask smugly before winnowing back to the Spring Court.
The next few days I don’t hear from Rhysand, and I don’t feel a tug on the bond. All of the sudden my life is filled with a sense of melancholy, I never had before. I had grown so used to his constant tugging on the bond or his remarks throughout my daily life that I felt a little empty without him.
So empty that I now found myself nudging around the food on my plate at dinner. Lucien had been out with the emissary of the Summer Court fixing the problems on the border, which meant it was just me and Tamlin.
We spend the whole meal in silence until he finally breaks it, “I have something I want to discuss with you,” he says, placing his napkin down on the table.
“What is it?” I ask, starting to wonder if maybe he saw me and Rhysand the other day.
“I’ve been talking with Beron Vanserra, and it seems that his eldest son Eris has taken a liking to you. We think it might be in the best interest of our two courts if you two were to marry.” he says casually, as if the words weren’t a huge punch to the gut.
“What?” I breathe in disbelief.
“Come on y/n this has always been our plan, to get you an advantageous marriage.” he reminds me, irritation laced in his voice.
“Not my plan Tamlin, yours.” I seethe. “Eris is a viper, I won’t marry him.”
“You’ll do as you're told and that’s final!” he screams slamming his fists down on the table making the silverware rattle.
I leave my plate full of food on the table and get up. If I wasn’t hungry before I certainly am not now. I leave the dining room and make sure to slam the door on my way out. The halls of the palace were dark save for the moonlight drifting through the windows. My mind was a mess of Tamlin’s words, I was so angry I could hardly think beyond it. At the end of the hall there was a door and even from where I was I could see the doorknob turning. A head of red hair popped through the door and Lucien stumbled to close it.
I kept my head down trying to avoid him but it was no use. The second he passed me his hands were on me shoving me into the nearest wall.
“Hello my flower,” he slurred.
“You’re drunk Lucien,” I pointed out, jerking my head away.
“Yes I suppose I am, the emissary for the summer court knows how to celebrate. We went to a tavern after completing the job on the border to indulge in some women and maybe a few drinks,” he chuckled.
“Yeah a few hundred drinks you fucking idiot,” I gripe trying to get out of his grasp but his hands only pin my wrists tighter.
“It was fun, but being around all those women made me long for my little flower,” he smiled drunkenly before kissing my neck.
For months now he’s been doing this, stealing touches whenever he could, and kissing my neck like this when he was feeling really bold, or in this case, drunk. He never took it further than that though. Never kissing, never fully fucking me, and I think it’s because he knew that it would be where Tamilin drew the line. But tonight he was drunk, in a way I had never seen him before, and I wasn’t sure if the line that had held for so many months would be held now.
“Get the fuck off me Lucien,” I growl trying to push him off again.
He completely ignores me, “You know my dear I’ve let my hands wander every expanse of this magnificent body, but I have yet to taste you,” he says lowly. “I think I’m going to change that.”
I don’t even get a chance to try and fight before his lips are on mine. He tastes like shitty whiskey and he smells like cheap perfume. It’s vile and it has me sick to my stomach. I find my opening to rip my lips off him and take it.
“Lucien what the fuck!” I scream in his face. His eyes just go down to my heaving chest, where my breasts are pushed up high due to my corset.
“And these,” he drawls before placing open mouth kisses on the peaks of my breasts. His hand lets go of my wrist and flies to my waist to pull me closer to him and I take the change of position as an opportunity to knee him between his legs.
His knees hit the ground and I run down the hall towards my room. I slam and lock the door as fast as possible, barricading myself in with a chair. I pace back and forth trying to dispel the pent up adrenaline that’s inside of me but in the end I sink to my knees and start to cry.
What happened?
That calming voice cleaves its way through my mind and it feels like a huge weight off my chest has been lifted.
“It was Lucien he tried to…” I let my voice trail off not even wanting to finish the sentence. I know the High Lord of Night is at the complete other end of Prythian but I swear I feel the ground beneath me tremble.
Did he? He asks, like he would winnow here right now and make due on his promise of ripping out his good eye.
“No, I fought him off,” I assure him.
Are you safe?
“As safe as I can be, I barricaded the door,” I say, as my heart rate calms down.
You shouldn’t have to live in a place where you have to barricade yourself in your room.
“Well I do so I’m handling it the best I can,” I gripe at him. I would gladly change the situation if I could but I can’t. There's a silence and I can feel him ruminating over my words as I crawl into bed.
I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it like that.
“It’s okay I understood what you meant,” I say pulling the covers up to my chin like they might protect me.
And I’m sorry for what I said about Tamlin. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you, he’s your brother, of course you’re going to defend him.
“It’s okay, maybe everything you said about Tamlin wasn’t entirely false,” I confess remembering the conversation that had me fleeing the dining room in the first place.
What happened?
A moment passes and I think about telling him. But saying it almost makes it real and I choose not to, “I’d rather not talk about it now. Too much has happened tonight,” I say
Alright we won’t then. I sense disappointment in his voice but I am happy that he respects my wishes.
“Rhys?”I ask, and there’s a hesitation there.
Yes darling? He purrs and I can hear him practically swooning at the fact that I said his name.
“I don’t wanna be alone, will you stay up with me?” I confess feeling like I’m baring my soul.
Of course I will darling, all night if you want me to.
Taglist: @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88
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#rhys acotar#rhysand#rhysand x reader#rhysand x reader smut#rhysand angst#rhysand fluff#rhysand x y/n#rhysand acotar
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Home to Me
Summary - After the death of Beron, Lucien is finally free to move to the Day Court, and he could not be more ecstatic to have you and Elain by his side
Warnings - moving anxiety, Helion being the best father in law, fluff
Prompt - Day 4 - Adventure
A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek! I was really excited to play with Elucien and a Spring Court reader. Something about them as a trouple with another flower girl makes my heart skip.
💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕
Freedom was a concept Lucien so rarely knew. From living under his father's thumb to Tamlin's command to Rhysand's control, it had always felt like a goal, some far-off dream he would never reach.
Until he met Elain, of course. Elain, as difficult as chasing her was, quickly became his light. He had made her chase him in return for the years of waiting, and she had fought tooth and nail for him. He had never met someone with so much love to give, and who wished to give it so freely.
Meeting you just made sense due to that. Elain had met you in Spring as they were helping Tamlin with rebuilds where you personally were in charge of the garden overhauls due to your powers. He would never forget the way Elain ran back into the house, sliding down the wall as she held her heart, and Briar rushed to her as she whispered "Mate," over and over again.
Lucien went to where she had been and stopped. Your kind was rare, but there you were, iridescent wings tucked on your back, shifting yourself to a smaller size to move pollen from flower to flower. “Ah, y/n,” Tamlin had admired you as Lucien did. “She will be fine with all of this. They are all used to marrying in pairs.”
Courting you had been the easiest thing both of them had ever done. Lucien had joked you were a simple female. You were wooed by shiny things, by chocolates left at your door late at night, by long walks through your garden. Elain adored you first, but Lucien fell in love the hardest. You were so kind, so gentle. He could hardly imagine life without you or Elain.
Now, 10 years later, that life could openly be a reality. He put the last of your boxes into the portal Helion had opened from your home in Spring to the home you three would share in Day, clapping his hands together as it closed.
Elain was already there, unpacking and decorating the home. She wanted it to feel as safe and loving as possible for you, seeing as you had never once left the Spring Court borders in your 300 years of life.
You were the most nervous of the 3, moving to Day was a lot to ask of you, but with Beron finally gone, Lucien was free to be with his dad, to be home, and you and Elain both wanted to give him this chance. He deserved it. He had earned it.
He found you in your garden, overlooking centuries of hard work, “Blossom, are you ready to go?” His heart almost sank as you quickly wiped your cheeks before turning.
“Of course!” The lie was so obvious it was almost insulting as he walked to you and took your upper arms in his large hands.
“You're frightened?” You could only nod. “Tamlin promised to care for the home. You will be back here every Autumn and Winter along with the honeybees and butterflies. Your garden will be fine, my love.”
“It's not the garden. This whole thing is just scary.” You both paused as the sound of winnowing came followed by Elain's soft footsteps.
“Tulip?” She ran the distance to you, tugging you into her while being mindful of your delicate wings. “My heart, what's wrong?”
Lucien answered for you, pulling you both to him. “She's a little scared of the move.”
Elain hummed, kissing away the tear that fell on to your cheek. “I can't imagine how hard it is, leaving behind all you've ever known by choice. You are so brave for our happiness. Your fear is so justified, y/n. I can understand that part, trust me.”
“If you want to stay,” Lucien's throat tightened at the thought. “We will make this work. We can-”
“No,” you sighed, heavily leaning into them. “I want to be with you. Both of you. This is just a whole new experience and a new world and a new high lord.”
“If I am what you are worried about, I am pleased to inform you there is nothing to be afraid of.”
Lucien looked down at you two, metal eye whirling as the other rolled. “Dad, we're having a moment here.”
“And I am joining. Come here, sweet pixie.” Lucien And Elain released you, allowing you to move to the Lord of Day. “I know your kind was hunted outside of this court, but I promise you, you and those precious wings will be safe in my home.”
That slow realization hit Elain and Lucien like bricks. They were asking you to leave Spring, a place your kind had been allowed to make a haven, and you had selflessly agreed. “Your new home is within the walls of my palace. No guards or guests will be able to get to you without my approval, and you will have your own guards approved by Lucien and Elain. You will be safe to fly and pollinate all you wish. My gardens could use that.” Helion kissed your hand where the rose gold and pink diamond ring sat. “Give Day a chance. Let it be your first big adventure.”
You nodded at him, letting your father in law take your hand. “My butterflies and bees are already there?”
“They are.”
"And they are happy?"
"They are dining on the most exotic pollen and nectars they have ever had. They were very excited about the move." Helion offered you a soft smile as Lucien and Elain both tugged the bond.
You turned to them, taking one last moment to memorize them in the archway of Wisteria and Roses. “Alright. I'm ready.”
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Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist:
@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566
#acotar#acotar x reader#lucien vanserra x elain archeron#lucien vanserra#elain archeron#lucien x reader x elain#elucien x reader#poly+acotarweek 2024#poly+acotarweek 2023 day 4
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Kinktober Day Thirty: Period Sex
Rhys x Female Reader
As Tamlin’s cousin, you never would’ve thought you’d ever leave the Spring Court.
The both of you were thick as thieves growing up, he was like your brother and you like his sister. Your father and Tamlin’s father were brothers. Being the younger one of the two, your father was his father’s right hand once he became High Lord.
During the war between faeries and humans 500 years ago, your parents died. So Tamlin’s parents took you in, they adopted you. Officially making you a Princess of Spring. Unexpectedly one night, you were in the library when you scented blood.
Making your way towards the bedrooms, you saw as your cousin and Rhysand became the new High Lords of their courts. Seeing the power shift into them, changing them. You let out a barely audible gasp, but they both heard. As soon as you and the new High Lord of Night locked eyes, the bond snapped.
Neither one of you said anything but you knew he felt it too. Then he winnowed away.
You never told anyone that he was your mate. Centuries passed and you avoided each other like the plague. Until the events Under the Mountain.
Rhys protected you as best he could. Did whatever he could to make you comfortable during those 49 years.
Once all of you were freed by your cousin’s made mate, Feyre. Tamlin and her winnowed back to the Spring Court. Lucien, your best friend was waiting for you to winnow back together, when he stopped you. You felt a talon scratching softly against your mental shields.
Dropping them enough only to let him in, he finally spoke mind to mind, “Come with me ?” Rhys’s voice was purr in your mind. “Soon-“ you promised “-I just need to talk to Tam.” He nodded his head, took a step back and then bowed at the waist. Rising back to his full height, giving you his signature smirk, he winnowed. Earning a scoff and an eye roll from Lucien, before the two of you winnowed back to Spring.
When you got back to the Spring Court you told Tamlin, Lucien and Feyre everything. They were all quiet as you spoke. Tamlin’s eyes finally met yours as you confessed, “The Spring Court is my home… or I thought it was. Under the mountain I found my real home in him. My mate. The High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand.”
Your cousin only nodded his head at your words before coming around his desk, to hug you. Holding you at arms length he finally spoke for the first time since you told him you had to talk to him about something important. “Go. Be happy, Sunshine.“ The use of your nickname given to you by your parents, making you sob into his chest like a child. “He waits for you. Just know you’ll always have a home and be welcome in Spring.”
That same night, you packed a couple of your things, then reached out to Rhys mentally. “Come to spring.”
You weren’t sure he got your message, until you felt his hand settle on your shoulder. Turning to look at him with red puffy eyes. Something flickered in his gaze, “Did Tamlin make you cry ?” You laughed in between sobs, “No, I’m just so happy.” His brows furrowed, then his gaze softened and his lips were on yours. “You’re coming home ?” He asked with hopeful eyes, you nodded your head.
Months had passed since you’d been mated and became High Lady of the Night Court.
You’d always felt a bit sick and tired a week before your cycle, among other symptoms. But you didn’t want to annoy or worry Rhys with something so trivial.
That’s why when he told you he’d be in Wind Haven for a couple days you told him you’d wait for him to come back, instead of joining him.
He was hesitant to leave you, noticing you were a bit off but he didn’t want to push you.
As soon as you heard the front door to the town house close you dragged yourself to the ensuite bathroom. You’d always hated this part of being fae. The cramps always had you doubled over, clutching your tummy, as you emptied its contents into the toilet bowl.
Forcing yourself to stand, to brush your teeth and then winnowing back into bed. You curled up in a ball under the blankets. Unaware that you were flooding the bond with how you felt.
Rhys nearly fell out of the sky as he felt an overwhelming pain come over him. Free falling for a couple seconds before landing roughly in the middle of the Illyrian forest floor covered in snow. He clutched his middle as he dry heaved. It took him a second to realize he was feeling your pain and discomfort. Winnowing back to you without a thought.
Mor, Cassian and Azriel had stayed in the townhouse the night before and heard you. All three of them had tried getting into Rhys and yours shared room to check on you, to no avail. You’d warded the room, being used to going through this on your own.
“Y/n !” Mor pounded on the door. “Please let me in !”
“We just want to help !” Cassian tried.
Azriel, “Open the door !”
So lost in the feeling of your discomfort, you hadn’t heard the front door slam shut.
Without a word Rhys walked through the townhouse, up the stairs to your shared room, breaking through the wards, getting to you.
He moved the blankets, caressing your flushed cheek, “Darling, why didn’t you tell me ?” He murmured.
All you could do was press your cheek further into his palm, as another cramp over took you, causing you to whimper and writhe in pain. Rhys huffed out a breath, “All right, that’s it.”
You heard his footsteps disappear into the bathroom and then water running.
He threw the blankets off of you and moved you to sit up right, pulling your night slip off of you. Then picking you up he carried you to the bathroom, placing you into the tub. The water was hot, soothing the cramps that riddled your body, relaxing the tension in your lower back.
“Mhm, thank you !” You whispered at Rhys. He was sitting on the edge of the tub peering down at you, reaching out to grab his hand, you tugged “Get in with me ?” He chuckled before taking his clothes off and you scooted forward so he’d fit.
Once he’s settled in he pulls you back against his chest, you grab one of his hands and place it over your tummy. The pressure always helps with cramps. You shift a bit and feel his length harden against your back,
“Sorry.” He mumbles.
You look at him over your shoulder, giggling, “Don’t be sorry.”
You try to ignore it but your hormones are so out of control and now all you want is Rhys. Behind you, you hear him scenting the air, no doubt scenting your arousal. Moving his freehand to play with your sore breasts, “Is this okay, darling ?” You nodded your head yes, then a moan escapes you as he starts tugging your sensitive nipples.
“Rhys ?” You utter breathlessly.
“Yes, darling ?” He rasps out.
“Touch me, please ?” The words die off on your tongue in a whimper as he trails his hand down your front, then starts rubbing tight circles over your clit.
You’re a mess of moans and shaky breaths as he continues playing with your sensitive cunt. He moves to slide his fingers into you but you grab his hand stopping him, “I’m bleeding.”
Rhys chuckles darkly before kissing you temple, “It’s not the first time I’ve had blood on my hands, princess. Let me help you feel good.”
Nodding your head as he slides his fingers into you, thrusting in and out of you. Curling them, making them hit that sweet spot, that has you crying out his name, “Rhys - Rhys!”
He places soft sensual kisses on your temple, neck and shoulders as one hand plays with your swollen breast. The other plunges in and out of you.
Breathing hitching as he picks up the pace, nails digging into his thick muscular thighs. His hand moves from your breast to your clit, pushing you over the edge, crying out his name - “Rhys !” - as you orgasm.
He kisses the top of your head, praising you, “Good girl.”
Still limp from your orgasm, he’s positions you so you’re straddling his lap, facing him. You’re shaking as he buries his cock into your aching cunt. “Shhh, baby. I got you.” He coos into your ear as he rubs his hand soothingly on your lower back. You melt into him as he rolls his hips, his cock massaging your sensitive walls.
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar smut#rhysand#rhysand acotar#rhysand fanfic#rhysand high lord#rhysand smut#rhysand x reader#rhys#rhys acotar#rhys fanfic#rhys high lord#rhys smut#rhys x reader
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Story idea: Helion finds out he is going to be a father. Thank you !
Be gentle with me. I've never written for Helion.🥺 (part II)
A second chance
It was something that Helion wanted so deeply. Behind his show-offish demeanor. Behind all the confidence and slightly cocky attitude. There was a man who just finally wanted to settle. He didn't want to play games any longer. He wanted to have a happy home to return to. The bright walls had started to cave in on him. Pushing on his senses. Making him uneasy.
You were his haven at the end of the day. Where he was just Helion. No a high lord. Just Helion. With all of his flaws and imperfections. Where he didn't have to hide. Because he knew you would love him regardless. You two had been friends for ages. You had watched him fall in love with lady autumn. Had been the one to help them sneak around. Until that was crushed into nothingness. Until Beron had crushed her into nothingness because he had found out. Until he had done everything to get rid of her. The grief was immense. And it nearly took out the high lord himself but you were there. Always there. Holding his broker pieces for him until he could do so himself.
"Lady Y/N", the servant bowed his head as you approached the upper levels of the library where Helion usually worked. You knew that he had been busy. There had been a lot of new agreements and terms that needed to be put to place now that day court was working closely with night court. "Is high lord in his office?", you asked softly, brushing the hair away from your shoulder. The servant nods his head, "The usual order stands. I can only let you in", he says smiling softly and you return the gesture.
Helion seems to not notice your presence at first. The place is a mess. He let it go so untended. But then again most of the time it was you who cleaned it for him. Organized everything. Just you had been feeling under the weather the past couple of weeks. Barely wanting to leave your chambers. Just having this unimaginable urge to sleep. A twirl of happiness jumps within you now that you know why.
You step closer and Helion's head shots up. His dark skin gleamed in the early evening sun. The frown on his face instantly turns into a light smile at the sight of you approaching. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?", he asks softly, pushing the chair back so he could make you more space on his lap. You hum, "Trust me, would love nothing more but the healer told me to move as much as I can", you settle yourself down onto Helion's lap. Hands instantly move to cup his face. He kisses you with the same longing until he pulls away, frowning himself, "Healer? You saw a healer and no one came to inform me?", his eyes dart towards the door where you know that the guards would be getting a lecture later on.
"You know I'm good at sneaking around", you tried to joke slightly but you saw no amusement on Helion's face. Your health, anything that revolved around you being well he took very seriously. "I'm fine", you say softly, leaning your forehead against his, "We're fine". You feel Helion's body freezing. Then his mind is moving so fast you can practically feel him thinking.
"Sweetheart...", he breathes out, eyes falling to your stomach, "I'm with child. Your child is growing here", you reach for his hand, placing it on your still flat stomach. Helion's big eyes are watching you. To be frankly honest you didn't know what emotion you were experiencing to see. Because family topics had been complicated for a while. He didn't get to see his firstborn grow. Gods, he didn't even know he existed until a couple of months ago. And that had wounded him deeply. Helion never believed that he would even get a chance to build a relationship with Lucien because there was nothing there. The male looked at him like nothing but a high lord. No father. No future relationship.
"Say it again", Helion pleads, eyes suddenly glossing over. "There's a baby here, growing strong and healthy. Waiting to meet...", but you don't get to finish because Helion jumps up with you still in his arms. Twirling you around till you're screeching. Laughter booms from his lips and he's practically glowing. It's like the sun suddenly has gotten brighter.
"Hey", the high lord falls to his knees right in front of you. Both of his palms cupped your stomach as he leaned in pressing his head against your chest, "I'm your dad", he whispers. He looks up at you to silently ask if this is okay. If he is allowed to do this and you urge him to continue. Do what feels natural. Until he's kissing all over your tummy, hands on your hips. Your fingers lazily scratch the back of his neck and you let him have this. Have this moment of peace. This moment of experiencing something he had been longing for. Being more than happy that you got to give him this chance at becoming a father all over again. "So loved, so loved", Helion mutters under his breath, "I'll forever look after you and your mom".
#second chance universe#helion x reader#helion imagine#helion x you#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar x you
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Get In The Water
To bargain with an ancient death-lord, Captain Elain Archeron must acquire the rare, magical scales of a siren. Little does she know her target is no ordinary Mer—but the Prince of the Undersea himself.
Pairing: Elucien
Tags: Pirate!Elain x Merman!Lucien
Notes: For the beautiful talented stunning @areyoudreaminof for the @acotargiftexchange! I wasn't your original Secret Santa, but I tried to include some of your favourites here (this is your official warning for Jurian being a canon-typical little shit). Sending you so many smooches!
Thank you @ablogofsapphicpanic for being my beta<3
Read on AO3
“With all due respect, Captain Archeron, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
Elain’s answering sigh was deep enough to rustle the waves ahead. She tossed them a final look before turning back to her quartermaster. “You know exactly where you can shove your respect, Jurian.”
He bounced off the mast with a grin. “Up my arse, no doubt,” he mused, a large, tanned hand stroking his much overgrown stubble. They’d been out at sea for weeks—for good reason, too, though Elain realised it was a sentiment less and less of her crew continued to share.
Still, she nodded with a smile of her own. “Same as last time.”
“Then I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it would have been wise to dock in Adriata two weeks ago.” He crossed his arms. “We’re not exactly welcome on Day Court waters.”
That was certainly one way to put it. Elain was half-expecting the High Lord’s army, ready at arms and lined up on the shores of Port Denera to arrest her and her crew. It would hardly be the first time.
Elain’s smile only grew wider. “There’s nothing quite like coming home.”
Jurian rolled his eyes, no doubt remembering their latest excursion himself, and leaned over the bulwark. “It’s been a while,” he remarked, his brown gaze drifting off to the azure sea. In the waning hours of the afternoon, the golden sunlight reflected off its surface, shimmering quietly as though unaware of the chaos to come. Where she came from—a little town bordering the Eastern Coast—the fishermen used to say the future was carried in with the waves. Elain was never much a practitioner of such belief—after all, if it were true, her ship would surely be on the verge of utter collapse right now, sinking underwater with the crashing force of the raging sea.
Instead, they continued to peacefully make their way northeast, the sun warming their skin as though in greeting. The irony wasn’t lost on her, but she supposed it was much easier to enjoy the bliss while it lasted. The silver blade strapped to her side flashed at the thought, undeniably in protest—she’d had it dipped in the Cauldron a few decades ago (before her sister, the High Lady herself, had somehow lost the whole damn thing), and since then, the sword had seemed to develop a mind of its own. Elain didn’t mind. It was bloody useful in battle, and she was smarter than to argue with a deadly, magical artifact. Even if it was a real fucking smartass.
The sword flashed again—and a lot brighter this time, too bright to mistake it with a random glimpse of the sunlight.
“Sorry,” Elain muttered.
Jurian—she’d nearly forgotted he was still here—glanced down at her belt. “You need to stop talking to the damn thing.”
She could have sworn she felt something sharp twitch against her hip.
“Would you like to talk to it instead?” she asked sweetly.
Jurian’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
“I thought so.”
“Seriously, Elain,” he sighed, apparently foregoing her usual title. “I would have gone to the ends of the earth with you to get those scales. Hell, I will go to the ends of the earth, and you know I won’t so much as hesitate.”
Elain did know. The stakes were too high—too personal, especially for her second-in-command.
“But the crew needs a break,” Jurian continued. “Adriata was supposed to be our goldmine, and we found nothing—nothing, Elain, not even one of those gods-damned—”
“I know what happened in Adriata, Jurian,” Elain cut in. “I was there.”
“I only mean—”
“I know what you mean. And I agree, even if I do not show it sometimes. Jurian, I…” She closed her eyes, letting the salty mist pearl on her skin, her lashes. “I miss her too. Every day.”
For a moment, there was only silence—silence and the quiet whoosh of the deep blue waves.
“I know you do,” Jurian whispered beside her.
“She’s out there, somewhere—somewhere on the Continent. With that monster to do with her as he likes.” She could practically hear Jurian grit his teeth beside her. “I won’t give up, and we’ve been out here together long enough for me to know you won’t give up, either.”
“The Death God is persistent,” Jurian seethed. “He demands too high a price.”
Indeed he did. Koschei, a being so ancient even the fishermen in her small Day Court village had no legends singing of his name, had been magically bound to his lair on the Continent millennia ago—and, apparently, had been trying to find a way out of his chains ever since. The only thing in the world able to release him, though, was—of course—the Cauldron, the creator of the world itself.
And, up until sixty years ago, Elain would see it in her sister’s dining room every Solstice. It was ridiculous, really, the power the Night Court used to have in its grasp. That wasn’t to say it had not been deserved—the Cauldron had been won in a war full of blood and sacrifice, one her sister and his mate had nearly lost their life in, but…well. Surely they could have found a more secure place to display it than their townhouse in Velaris. A place where it could not have gotten stolen by only the Mother knew whom, or better yet—a place where no one, not even Feyre and Rhysand, could ever find it again.
It was too late for such semantics. Despite an entire Valkyrie region searching the skies for a sign of it, the Cauldron was simply…gone.
Nesta believed it to have been an inside job. After all, there were only a handful of people outside of Velaris aware of the city’s existence at all, let alone the High Lord and Lady’s private residence. But the Head Valkyrie had questioned them all—and found nothing at all.
For the first twenty years, Elain searched for it, too—anything to get out of her village, really, and the ghosts of a life she longed to leave behind. An engagement to a local lord’s son might have been the dream of many females back home, but it was, and never would be, Elain’s
The missing Cauldron had given her the opportunity she’d been searching for, and Elain did not look back when Feyre asked for her help. In her travels, though…she discovered a beauty to the seas, to the vast world they opened up for her taking—and so, after too many hopeless clues and tearful conversations with her sister, Elain had let the waves consume her entirely.
She did not think she would ever have to worry about the Cauldron again. She’d hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it had lost itself to the world just as she wished it would. But then Elain had met Vassa, and then Vassa had been taken by Koschei, and, well…
Her fate belonged to the Cauldron once again.
This time, though, it was hardly a chore, or a favour she was doing her little sister. It was a matter of life or death, of the family she’d found sailing the seas of Prythian. Vassa was a sister, too, a sister she loved dearly enough that when Koschei’s demands began to invade her visions, Elain did not hesitate.
She and Jurian had devised a plan—it wasn’t exactly foolproof, so to say, but she hoped it would be enough. It had to be.
“Do you know how much just one of the Mer scales runs for on the black market, Jurian?” Elain asked, more to prove a point than to get an actual answer. He knew—they’d been chasing them for the past two years. Still, she said, “Ten thousand gold marks. You could buy a manor in Spring for that kind of money.”
“I have allergies,” Jurian murmured.
“I know I didn’t just hear that.”
Jurian sighed. “It just seems…I don’t know, Elain. The Mer people are folktale. If your so-called Undersea were to exist, we would have found it in Adriata.”
“The High Lord’s libraries clearly point to the seas of Day,” Elain pressed.
Jurian snorted. “Are you sure you read that right? We didn’t exactly have a lot of time in that library, you know.”
She cut him a look sharper than the sword at her side. “I’m sure. I got the information we needed with a few minutes to spare.”
“I think your posters are still hanging at the entrance.”
Elain wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the way my hair looks in those ones.” When it came to painting, the Day Court forces were no Feyre.
“They put quite the bounty on your head, you know,” Jurian added. “If that isn’t flattering, then I don’t know what is.”
Elain grinned. “Well, I stole some really valuable books.”
“I’ll bet.” He looked out to the sea again, that rugged face turning more solemn as he studied the horizon—and the shore stretching far ahead. “How do you know the scales will be enough to get Vassa back?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know. But, if we can find the Mer here and get the scales we need…perhaps we can bargain with Koschei to take them instead. Their magic is forgotten, just as he is. He might find them to be enough.”
“That’s a big if, Elain.”
She shrugged. “At the very least, we might be able to use them to trace the Cauldron. I’ve sent a letter to Velaris—Amren volunteered her assistance.”
Jurian shuddered.
“Don’t be a baby,” Elain rolled her eyes. “She’s useful. Ancient.”
“Precisely.”
“I just…” He shook his head, his brown curls catching the sunlight. “Things are weird enough as they are. You Fae are hardly accepting of pirates, let alone humans.”
Elain tucked a loose strand of hair behind an arched ear. “I’m a pirate,” she declared, letting some of the pride she’d buried deep in her chest creep into her tone. “I am happy to share at least half of the burden with you.”
Jurian’s warm hand covered her own. “You’re a good friend, Elain,” he said. “You could have left—could have sailed off after that whole fiasco with Koschei.” He gave her a light squeeze. “But you chose to stay.”
She could not meet his stare—not when the salt in her eyes had begun to burn too much, blurring her own gaze as she turned to face the shallowing water. “I’ve run away before,” she told him quietly. “No more.”
“No more,” Jurian agreed. He had a past of his own—and, when the time was right…he would tell her. And she would embrace it without question.
“I’ll tell you what,” Elain started, her throat suddenly tight. “It’s a big day we’ve got tomorrow. Tell the crew we’ll be dining at the local tavern tonight?”
Slowly, Jurian turned to her—and smiled. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
***
The Pearl was a small ship—small enough not to raise suspicions when they’d docked in Port Denera. The flag—a Mer tail with a pearl resting between its fins—had been carefully folded away prior to their arrival, the sigil of Elain’s crew all but too recognisable in those parts of Prythian.
It wasn’t that Elain had no moral compass whatsoever, but, over the years, she had learned that sometimes, taking her life into her own hands had a tendency to pay off a whole lot more than simply letting it run its course. Had she lived by a different set of rules, she would have long been married to the new Lord Nolan, never having left her hometown and spending her days at the beach, looking out to the sea and wishing for a life never to be.
It could have been a good life, perhaps—but it would never be the life she wanted, the life she craved. Besides, it wasn’t like Elain had ever been given a good example to follow. Feyre, after all, had escaped her own arranged marriage and ran right to the deepest, darkest corners of Night, Nesta following shortly after. It was only fair that Elain followed the family tradition.
Father had been devastated—Elain’s engagement, after all, had been his final, desperate attempt at seeing his daughters well off before his passing. After Feyre and Nesta’s disobedience, as he’d called it, Father had assumed his daughters had simply rebelled because they wished to remain home. Perhaps that was why, after having tried marrying Feyre off to Spring and Nesta to Hybern, he’d settled for seeing Elain with a small, local nobleman.
Elain did not care for riches—well, she hadn’t cared then. Now, having seen all that the world had to offer, she supposed she did enjoy having a few pearls and gold around her neck at times. But it hadn’t been the match itself that bothered her—she was sure Greysen Nolan was perfectly nice and well-mannered—but the fact that Father hadn’t even asked if he was who Elain wanted, if he’d even cared if she could ever love Greysen at all.
As cliché as it sounded, love was exactly what Elain craved so viciously. And now, decades later, she had finally found that love—here, out at sea, with the waves embracing her wholly and eternally. This—the Pearl—was her home.
She sure hoped home wouldn’t mind seeing her stumble back aboard in a few hours, when she was well and thoroughly drunk out of her mind.
Aside from pearls and jewellery, Elain had developed a taste for ale, and it just so happened that the Port Denera tavern was famous for the golden drink. It tasted like liquid gold in her cup, leaving a tinge on her tongue that sent her senses spiralling and flushed her cheeks with bright-pink heat.
The crew seemed to be enjoying themselves, too, and it was only for that reason that she’d allowed her instincts to abandon ship for a moment or two. Well, perhaps three. She hadn’t seen Jurian this happy and relaxed since Vassa had been taken—a sign of how truly tired he must have been these past few weeks, of how badly he needed an evening to forget.
The thought sobered her up just a little, and Elain remembered the true reason she’d allowed this unusual night out in a town where the entire army was on the lookout for Captain Archeron. She did feel slightly guilty for misleading Jurian into thinking it was simply out of the goodness of her own heart—into omitting the one, small ulterior motive that had lately seemed to be driving nearly every decision of hers.
Information.
While the fishermen in the East of the Day Court had no knowledge of the Mer, the folk of Port Denera no doubt sang of the old creatures lurking beneath the sea. She’d already picked up on a few shanties on the way to the tavern, humming the words quietly to herself as she searched the lyrics for anything valuable. The Mer’s magic appeared to be as sharp as their teeth, capable of stirring the waves and calling upon storms. The strongest of them could lure the innocent, hungry wanderers into their traps with a lulling voice and mesmerising eyes, ones that reflected the soul’s deepest desires just as the surface of the sea reflected the sun above. Once captured, they’d sink those teeth into the flesh of their prey, and drag them under—never to be seen again.
Elain hummed the tune again cheerfully, excitement bubbling up in her chest—well, she supposed the bubbles might have had to do with some of the barrels of alcohol she’d consumed. Still, this was promising. All she needed was a name—a lagoon, or a hidden grotto, perhaps, where she could locate a lair. Her Cauldron-blessed sword would do the rest of the job.
Somewhere far beyond her peripheral vision, she heard the silver hum happily, already summoned by the rather bloodthirsty thought.
It was not that Elain wanted to murder the Mer in cold blood. She did not enjoy killing (she could have sworn her blade huffed at the sentiment), but if there was no other way to acquire the scales, she would do it. She loved Vassa enough to do whatever it took—the exiled, Firebird queen would do the exact same for her.
For what had to have been the hundredth time, Elain looked around the tavern, her somewhat blurry gaze scanning the bustling area. It was a lot more crowded than she’d expected—which proved a good thing all the same. It was a lot harder to get spotted in a sea of creatures of all shapes and sizes, and it sure helped that they all seemed piss-drunk, too.
The local shanty found its way onto her lips once more, and she sang it absently, her attention entirely focused on some old wraith somehow downing two bottles of wine at once. Her sharp nails scraped against the glass as she drank, and Elain watched, completely entranced at what she’d never thought could be accomplished before.
In the morning sun so bright, the sailors set to sea,
Their hearts as bold as brass, their spirits ever-free.
But careful, sailor, please, beware the waves that dance and play,
Beneath this sunny surface, a wicked mermaid lay.
“Sounds terrifying.”
Elain jumped.
The ale in her hand fell to the ground with a loud clunk, the sound immediately drowned out by a rumbling laughter of the crows. The golden liquid spilled over her, sticking to the skin of her neck, her collarbones, the curves of her exposed breasts—until finally sinking into the white fabric of her corset. Elain swore under her breath, cursing her choice of garment for tonight, before finally looking up.
“Shit,” she swore again, for the lack of a better word—or, perhaps, because there was no word to describe the male standing before her.
The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
A pair of shining eyes of molten gold looked her up and down, an auburn eyebrow quirking up in amusement. “Now, don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he drawled, his voice rich and deep and smoother than the liquid she’d swallowed down her throat. “I spent a lot of time on my hair earlier tonight.”
Elain blinked—then blinked again. “Are you…hitting on me?”
His mouth—full and plush and gods she needed to get it together—twitched. “And here I was, thinking I was all too obvious,” he quipped.
She peeled her gaze off the soft waves of his hair, glistening under the tavern’s candlelight. “Perhaps you’re just not very good at it,” she remarked, thanking the Mother for keeping her tongue sharp when her mind bordered on insanity.
The stranger smiled openly now. “What’s your name?” he asked.
Elain angled her head an inch. “Why?”
Did she really just ask him that?
Perhaps it was time to order some water.
The male seemed entirely unbothered. “It’s not often you meet a beautiful female singing old folktales in the middle of a tavern,” he said, offering a one-shouldered shrug. “I find myself somewhat…intrigued.”
“Intrigued,” Elain repeated blankly.
His smile grew wider. “Quite,” he agreed. “Those are old, you know.”
Elain straightened—straightened and blinked again, her thoughts somehow collecting into one, singular stream as she remembered what, exactly, she had come to this tavern for. “Are they?” she asked, “I’ve just picked up on them an hour ago.”
“An hour?”
She offered a smile of her own. “I have an excellent memory.”
Those golden eyes glistened. “Is that so?” the male asked, his gaze sweeping down her body as though he had all the time in the world. “If I tell you my name, will you sing it for me, too?”
Focus, Elain. He’d mentioned the Mer shanties, did he not? “I doubt anyone will hear it,” she remarked. “I never see Port Denera this busy.”
“You’ve been here before?”
Elain waved a dismissive hand. “Once or twice,”
The male hummed. “Then you know today is an important day,” he said, that strange shade of amusement playing over his features once more. “The High Lord is mourning the loss of his dear wife and son, and we are drinking in a show of, ah…solidarity,” he finished, a passing faun raising his glass at them, as though emphasising his agreement.
Elain waited for him to get out of earshot. “Wife and son?” she questioned, searching the corners of her mind that stored everything she knew about her Court.. “Didn’t that happen three hundred years ago?”
Those eyes narrowed at her slightly, and the stranger tilted his head. “Do you think he should have moved on instead?” he asked, the question so quiet it may as well have been a breath—and yet, she’d heard it perfectly over the bustling crowd.
Elain considered. “I think it must have been a beautiful kind of love, if he’s mourning it so many centuries later.”
His auburn brow arched in surprise. “What did you say your name was, lady…?”
Elain snorted. “Oh, I’m no lady.” She set her glass on a nearby table. “Haven’t been for a while.”
“You certainly look like one,” he remarked, that smile once again creeping back onto his ridiculously handsome features.
She couldn’t resist. “Do I, now?”
He chuckled, the sound low and honeyed. “Oh, absolutely.”
“And are you in the habit of flirting with all the ladies you pick up in a tavern?” Elain teased.
“No, no. I usually let them come to me.” He winked. “I can be a good singer too, you know.”
Elain smiled.
“I’ll take your word for it,” she laughed. “So, you know those shanties, too?”
His eyes glittered.
There it was.
“Some of them,” he agreed.
“Do they hold any truth?” she pressed. Come on, come on, come on…
“Sometimes,” he nodded. “Does it matter?”
You have no idea, Elain thought. “It does. I’m looking for…” she hesitated. “Information.”
“Oh?”
“The books in Day’s library state I might find it here,” she added carefully.
Something like realisation crept onto his features. “You wish to know about the Merpeople,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elain’s gaze flickered to the movement. “How did you get access to those books?” he asked.
“It’s not important,” she told him, eyeing the golden-brown muscles flexing under the candlelight.
“I disagree,” the male said, “those books are extremely well-guarded.” Was that admiration she’d heard in his tone?
“What was your name, again?” Elain asked him.
The male smiled. “Would you like to come outside with me?”
As if. “I’m not exactly in a hook-up mood right now, sorry,” she told him, though uncertain if the words rang entirely true.
He smiled—as though he knew. “What about information?” She felt her brows flick up. “I thought so. Now, shall we? It’s more quiet out back,” he added, gesturing to the tavern’s back door.
“I like it loud,” Elain countered. The more people drowning their conversation, the better.
“So do I,” he winked. “Another time, baby, I promise.”
Elain rolled her eyes. “Very funny,” she said, then dared a quick glance around the space again. Come to think of it, the couple at the table near where the two of them stood were awfully close—close enough that Elain decided not to risk it. She nodded to the stranger. “Let’s go.”
“Just so that we’re clear,” he started as they made their way through the crowd, “once you get those scales, we’re splitting the profits.”
“We can discuss the money later,” Elain countered. Like hell she was going to share anything with him.
“If that is what you wish,” he nodded, and opened the door.
The fresh air hit her almost unexpectedly, but it was a welcome change from the stuffy tavern in the back. She breathed in the salt carried in by the sea, her thoughts clearing up enough that she could finally focus on the matter at hand without unnecessary…distractions.
The distraction flashed her a smile, the beach behind him illuminated by the dying sunlight. “So, Mer scales, hmm? What do you need those for?”
“That,” Elain said firmly, “is none of your business.”
He chuckled again, the sound different this time—less than that deep, raspy sound she’d heard before, but more…fluid, like tea stirring in a cup. Warm. Inviting. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said quietly—and reached out his hand.
“Come with me,” the stranger told her.
Elain frowned. “I’m already here,” she pointed out. “You wanted to leave the tavern,” she reminded him.
He hummed—and she could have sworn it was like a melody pouring from his chest. “Yes,” he told her, stepping back until his feet—bare, she now noticed—reached the sand. “Let’s go a little further, alright?”
Elain stepped forward. “I…don’t understand,” she said. Still, she moved in closer.
He offered her a gentle smile. “Just one more step for me, gorgeous, please,” he tried again, his hand still outstretched.
“Okay.” She reached the sand now, too—but he had somehow moved back a few steps again, inches away from the waves’ embrace.
“Good girl,” he purred, the water now kissing his skin. Elain stepped in closer. “You’re very beautiful, you know,” he told her, angling his head slightly. She watched as his long hair spilled down his back in waves softer than the very sea—and met his gaze again, only to find it dark. “Almost beautiful enough to hide that rotten soul of yours.”
That gold had tarnished—enough to hide that bright, enticing gleam.
“Yes,” Elain agreed.
“Mmm, I thought so,” he mused. “I just need you to take a few more steps, alright? We’re almost at the shore,” he added, his voice like a lullaby, reassuring.
“Yes, I’ll follow you,” she agreed again.
“You’re doing so well for me,” he praised. “I might even consider making your death painless,” he whispered, watching her closely as she, too, neared the edge of the water. “Though that wasn’t the kind of death you had planned for my kind, was it?” he asked, a certain sharpness to his tone that made her open her mouth. “Oh, no need to answer that, baby,” he interrupted, “but I do appreciate your eagerness.”
Elain nodded. “Whatever you wish.”
He smiled, flashing his teeth. A perfect, pearly set of sharp blades—sharp enough to tear her flesh apart. “That’s a good girl,” he hummed, and she could have sworn she heard her soul sing in answer. “Now, step into the sea.”
Elain stopped inches from the seafoam. “Will you give me your hand?” she asked him shyly.
His features softened—though the sharp, predatory smile remained. “Of course, my rotten, terrible lady,” he purred. “Come with me.”
Elain slid her hand in his—and waited.
His skin, surprisingly, was warm—sun-kissed, as if he hadn’t spent an entire lifetime in the dark depths of the Undersea. He felt smooth, too, with some coarseness here and there that let her know his palm was no stranger to holding a weapon—a trident, perhaps, if the songs of the fishermen had, indeed, held any truth to them.
The leaves behind her rustled—and Elain finally, finally released a breath.
“No,” she told him, her voice still feigning that blissful softness. “No, I don’t think I will.”
The merman blinked. “What?”
Elain gave him a smile that was purely Fae—one that let him know she was a monster, too. “It was a nice try, really,” she said, her free hand reaching back to her belt. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
A pair of iron cuffs appeared in her grip—and, in a flash of a second, found its way onto the merman’s wrists.
His skin sizzled, and he hissed sharply, those dark eyes wide and not leaving hers for one second—but Elain held on, murmuring the spell she’d memorised under her breath.
She could never come to the land of the Mer unprepared.
“Duck!” Jurian yelled behind her.
She only had a fraction of a moment to see the bow in his hands—to stop him before he released the arrow.
Elain didn’t stop him, though.
She ducked.
***
“I can’t believe you caught one of them,” Jurian said in disbelief. “Good work, really, Elain, but did you have to bring him onto the ship?”
From the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement behind the bars. The merman rose to his full height—he seemed taller in the constrained space of the brig, somehow—and met her gaze directly.
“Your name,” he said as though in a daze. “Elain.”
Elain cut her friend a look. “Thank you, Jurian.”
Jurian bounced off the wall. “Sorry,” he shrugged, his tone suggesting he wasn’t sorry at all.
“It didn’t work,” their prisoner said, more to himself now than his jailors.
“What didn’t work?” Jurian asked him sharply.
The merman looked at him—and Elain knew it took everything in her quartermaster not to flinch under his scrutiny. “My spell,” he explained slowly, then turned toward her again. “It didn’t work on you,” he repeated.
“Perhaps you’re not as good as you thought,” Jurian said.
He scoffed, as though the remark pulled him out of whatever fog had clouded his thoughts. “My name is Lucien Spell Cleaver,” he declared, his voice louder now, stronger. “Firstborn son of Helion Spell Cleaver, Prince of the Undersea—and heir to the High Lord of the Day Court.”
Beside her, Jurian went entirely still. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was moving at all, either.
She may have been a pirate, but kidnapping a High Lord’s son—nay, his heir—was an act of treason, and Elain really wished to see one hundred before eventually dying a horrible, undoubtedly painful death. Quite common in her profession, really.
“Impossible,” she whispered. “Helion’s son is dead—as is his wife.”
“Clearly not,” Jurian murmured.
The male—Lucien—narrowed his gaze at the two of them. “We have been in hiding for the moment I was born. There was no denying what I was, not until I learned how to glamour myself, and my mother—she took me back to her people to protect me,” he explained.
“Does the High Lord know?” Elain breathed. He was lying. He had to have been.
Still, it was nice to at least know his name. Fake or not, it pleased her, for some reason. Lucien.
“Of course,” he scoffed. “The ‘Summer Estate’ he leaves for six months every year is Undersea.”
The answer was detailed enough that Elain’s heart quickened. “You really are Lucien Spell Cleaver?” she asked.
“And you,” Lucien nodded, “are Elain Archeron. Pirate…and Mer killer, apparently.”
“I haven’t killed anyone,” Elain protested.
“Yet,” he finished for her. “You were going to kill me,” he said, those golden eyes—back to normal now that he was at their mercy—settling on her as he added, “You still are.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” she scrambled. Some pirate she was—some of her rivals back East would have made her walk the plank for her hesitation.
Still, Elain could not bring herself to remember why…
“Why do you want my scales?” Lucien asked, interrupting her trail of thought—completing it, really.
“I told you, that is none of your business,” she told him, though her voice lacked her previous conviction this time.
“It is, if you still want them,” he countered.
“Why on earth would you give us your scales?” Jurian demanded.
“Well, I wouldn’t,” Lucien shrugged, then lifted his iron-bound hands into view. “As you can see, I am not in my Mer form, and will not be until you release me back into the sea,” he argued. “So, why don’t you just let me go, I give you my scales, and everyone wins?”
“Because you’re very obviously lying,” Elain cut in. “And you and your little Undersea army are going to sink my ship the moment it sails.”
The corner of his lip ticked upwards. “Is the word of a Prince not credible enough for you, Elain Archeron?”
“Not particularly,” she replied calmly. Princes, Lords—she’d heard their promises before, and ran to the sea to escape them.
“You are unlike any Mer hunter I’ve ever met before,” Lucien hummed, as though in thought.
Elain frowned. “There are hunters?”
“Of course,” he told her. “My father has disposed of as many of them as he could, but some still emerge every few years, hoping to see if the songs are true.” His expressions sombered. “Our scales are very valuable.”
“So we’ve heard,” Jurian said.
Lucien’s gaze flickered up. “It is money, then,” he said matter-of-factly, though something like anger lingered in the back of his throat.. “You wish to kill my people for a few gold marks?”
Elain swallowed.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, princeling,” Jurian seethed.
Elain placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Take a breath, Jurian,” she told him quietly. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a moment?”
Jurian looked at her—then back at Lucien again. “Let me know if you need help killing him,” he said darkly. Then, “For the record, I don’t care what you are,” he told Lucien. “You’re just annoying the shit out of me.”
And with that, he was gone, the wooden stairs carrying the echo of his steps. Only when they faded did Lucien finally say, “I like him.”
“He shot you,” Elain reminded him.
Lucien shrugged. “It wasn’t an ash arrow, now, was it? We live to forgive. Besides, I’m healed now.” Indeed, the wound in his shoulder had now closed almost entirely. “Well, almost,” he said, pointedly raising his wrists back into the light.
Elain had hoped the iron would work—it was an old superstition the humans thought could harm the Fae, but it had to have stemmed from somewhere. With Day’s libraries proclaiming the Merpeople as millenia older than the Fae, Elain figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“Sorry about the iron bars,” she said, nodding to Lucien’s cell. “Precautions.”
“I would have expected nothing less,” Lucien said—then leaned back, letting the back of his head rest against the wood. “So.”
Elain released a breath.
“Alright,” she braced herself. He was her future High Lord, apparently—if she lied, she was already dead. “What do you know of Koschei?”
“Who?”
“Nothing, then,” Elain sighed. “He is a death-lord—a god-like being trapped somewhere deep in the Continent. His magic is even more ancient than yours.”
Lucien’s brows furrowed. “And you seek to…take his magic for yourself?”
“I want nothing to do with his magic,” Elain told him hotly, earning an arched eyebrow in response. “It is revolting. But, it also currently binds my friend’s soul to Koschei himself, and he will not give her up unless we offer him something in exchange.”
“Mer scales?”
“He wants the Cauldron,” she explained. “We are hoping the scales will do for now.” She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. Was the plan truly that hopeless? Was Vassa going to be trapped…forever?
In her misery, she hardly noticed Lucien had gone strangely quiet.
“Our scales do not even compare to the sheer power of the Cauldron,” he said, the words barely above a whisper.
Elain laughed bitterly. “If this is your way of talking me out of it, you should know I’m pretty desperate,” she told him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my friend back.”
At that, Lucien said nothing. He only stared at her in thought, his eyes shimmering despite the darkness she and Jurian had shoved him into.
Then, “I see.” He stepped forward then—and halted an inch from the iron bars. “I was wrong about you.”
That, Elain did not expect.
“I told you, your spells do not work on me.”
“I’m well aware,” Lucien hummed. “I speak the truth. What is your friend’s name?”
Her throat threatening to close up, Elain managed, “Vassa.” She shook her head. “She’s like a sister to me. She’s Jurian’s…”
Understanding dawned on his features.
“That makes a lot of sense,” Lucien said.
“Yes,” Elain whispered. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
Lucien studied her closely. “And do you have a…?”
Elain almost laughed—though she supposed it was better than breaking down in front of the man she’d imprisoned aboard her own ship. “Don’t tell me you’re back to your flirting strategy now,” she told him.
Lucien smiled—a true smile this time, though Elain wasn’t sure how she knew. “Was I truly that obvious?”
“I knew what you were,” she gestured over him as if it was enough of an explanation. “No one else has eyes like that.” Like the morning sun itself.
“Now who’s the shameless flirt, Elain?”
Elain chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She met his gaze again. “The song summoned you, did it not?” she asked. “You weren’t at the tavern when I arrived.”
Lucien nodded. “I heard it from beneath the waves.”
“I’m not that good a singer.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, his smile fading with the words. She found herself wanting to see it again. “It was for another reason that I heard you. I recognise that now.”
“Recognise what?”
Lucien hesitated. “I need to…” He shook his head. “I—I can’t be sure, it doesn’t…” He locked his eyes with her own again, and she watched him patiently as he searched her gaze. “Elain,” Lucien tried again, and she could have sworn his voice trembled with the word. He loosed a breath. “Come with me.”
Elain looked at his outstretched hand—careful not to let the bars graze his skin. “I told you—”
“I’m not using my magic,” Lucien interrupted. “Just…come with me. Undersea.”
“Like hell I will,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t trust you.”
Lucien just stared at her—started as if some internal battle was playing out deep inside him, one she could almost feel in her own chest.
Then, his hand pulled back, and he laid his palm flat over his chest. His heart, Elain realised, her gaze dipping toward it.
She heard it, then—a quiet, yet powerful sound, like a wave crashing over the shore. The steady beating of his heart.
It couldn’t have been—and yet…
And yet, somehow, Elain heard it. Continued to hear it even now, even stronger as Lucien proclaimed, “With my life,” he began, “I promise to do you no harm.” There was an urgency in his gaze as he pleaded, “Just get in the water with me, and I will be yours.”
Elain paused. “Your scales, you mean,” she corrected, suddenly finding herself entirely out of breath.
“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “That.”
Elain studied the bars keeping him away—then the iron key strapped beside her Cauldron-blessed sword. She swore on the Mother herself she could hear it whisper: Do it.
Perhaps she was simply losing her mind.
“Are you going to make me regret this, Lucien?” she asked him.
He simply stared back. “Are you?”
She supposed the question was reasonable enough. “Don’t tell Jurian I’m doing this,” she warned Lucien. “He’s going to kill me.”
Two minutes later, Lucien was free.
It was a blessing that they’d somehow missed Jurian, really—that she’d guided Lucien through the narrow space upstairs until they arrived at the starboard hand in hand, the sea soft and patient. Waiting.
What the hell was she doing? The only thing Elain knew for certain right now was that she was almost certainly going insane, and that Lucien’s hand in hers was warm and steadying in the buoying ship—and that those steps she was hearing somewhere behind them were, without a shadow of a doubt, Jurian’s.
Whatever Lucien was trying to prove, he had to do it now.
“Do we…jump?” she asked him.
“ELAIN!” Jurian yelled.
“I guess so,” Elain answered for him—and, together, they jumped.
The water, surprisingly, was warm despite the middle of the night. Helion liked to keep his Court warm at all times, but she supposed the sea, at least, would have carried some chill to it. It was then that she realised she’d never swam in those waters before—that she’d spent her lifetime admiring their every corner, but had never actually felt their beauty herself.
Everything happened so quickly.
The moonlight shimmered atop the sea, then sank deep beneath its surface, illuminating the space between them. Illuminating Lucien as his glamour faded and revealed the Prince of the Undersea in his true, unmasked form.
Elain could have drowned there and then.
The scales dotting his body glimmered under the light in a symphony of golds, bronzes and maroons, glowing even underwater as they formed a long, finned tail that floated gently with the current. He was sunlight come to life, the forest on a warm, autumn morning, the golden thread coming to life as it wrapped itself around her ribs, and Elain knew—knew this was the true beauty the sea had meant to show her from the very first moment she’d set sail.
“You…” She struggled for a breath. “You’re so beautiful.”
Lucien smiled, a webbed hand reaching for her own. “So are you, he said, placing her palm over his bare chest—just as he did aboard her ship moments ago. This time, though—this time, Elain could hear as their two heartbeats blended into one, a melody that made her own soul sing as Lucien whispered, “I am yours.”
The thread around her ribs tightened, forever to remain.
“You…” Elain blinked. “Oh.” She covered their joined hands with another, as if to make sure. “Lucien.”
“I needed to make sure,” he breathed, pulling her in. “You are my mate.”
There was reverence in the way he’d spoken the words—like some sacred spell only Elain was privy to hear from his lips.
She wanted to try them too.
“You are mine.”
“Yes,” he assured her.
“And I am yours.”
“Yes,” Lucien whispered again.
“Your scale—”
He squeezed her hands tighter. “Everything I am belongs to you now, Elain,” he interrupted. “But you will not need them.”
Elain blinked once more. “I don’t understand, I—”
Lucien smiled. “We have the Cauldron,” he told her. “My father took it—from Velaris.”
Elain wasn’t sure she was breathing.
“No.”
“Its wards protect us—have been keeping us safe for decades,” Lucien explained. “I think it is time we take our safety into our own hands,” he added, his thumb brushing over her palm.
Did he mean—?
Elain shook her head. “I couldn’t—”
“Where you go, I go,” Lucien said. “I am yours, Elain, and you are mine. Together, we’ll get your family back. And,” he hesitated, “If—if you still wish to have me around then—”
Her mate.
“Kiss me,” Elain demanded.
Lucien stilled. “What—”
“Now, Lucien.”
And he did.
Her eyes fluttered shut as Lucien’s mouth clashed into her own, and the world around then exploded—he tasted of salt and the sun-warmed breeze. He tasted like the rest of her gods-damned life, though she supposed eternity could never be enough to satiate the hunger one kiss had instilled deep inside her. Lucien kissed her as if she was the world, as if she was the light illuminating the sea embracing them, his lips hot and soft and all-consuming.
They had a war to face—but, as long as they faced it together…
Elain pulled back, their hearts pounding as one. She smiled at the sound.
“Let’s do this.”
#acotar gift exchange#elucien#pro elucien#elain x lucien#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#elucien fic#elucien fanfiction#acotar#my writing
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Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x Reader)~ Chapter 4
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1.2k
MMOTI Masterlist
A/N: Hi everyone! I just wanted to talk to everyone. ik I've been really noncommittal with this series, but I'm going to keep working on it bc I love it, and I hope you guys continue to love it too <3 I tried to build some insight into why Az doesn't like the reader in this chapter and I hope it came across okay, as always constructive criticism/feedback is welcome!
Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!
You could say that a tentative truce was established between the two of you after your night at the arcade. So much so Alis finally permitted you to get out on the ice.
“Don’t be nervous, the two of you have come leaps and bounds since last week.” She reassures you from her spot on the stands. “We’re gonna start with some basics, and then we work our way up to the lifts just like in the studio.” You shoot Azriel a nervous glare and he tries his best to send you a reassuring look.
Even though you still feel like you’re walking on eggshells around him, it’s almost nice being around him sometimes.
Reluctantly, Az has gotten used to your relentless positivity. Even if he can still hear your voice echo in his head sometimes.
It happened when you were thirteen, and it was a stupid comment he wasn’t even meant to hear. He has tried to put it behind him so many times, but every time he looked at you it popped up in the corner of his mind like a buzzing fly. Reflexively his hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants as you skated up to him with your sparkly eyes and sunshiney smile. The version of you from years ago scatters like ash in the wind as Az takes you in, amusement lighting in his eyes as he takes in your hot pink leg warmers.
“Is this an 80s workout video?” He chuckles and he likes the way your eyebrows furrow in false outrage.
“For your information, they keep my feet super warm so don’t come crying to me when you’re freezing.” You poke him in the chest and he laughs. It feels nice, he thinks, to simply exist around you without hostility.
The figure skates still feel tight on his feet, but practice is mostly uneventful after that. Azriel even manages to safely get you off the ground without losing his balance.
“Great work!” Alis actually seems proud for a moment. “I need you two to stay for a moment so you can try on your costumes.” Azriel looks horrified at the thought of him having to wear leggings, but something cold thaws in his chest when he sees your excitement. You had to throw your old costume away after Lucien’s accident, the fabric was permanently stained red. Az goes first. His costume is simple, a black shirt and leggings with bands of blue around his wrists and chest. You try to put a lid on your bubbling laughter when Az comes out of the changing room, but it still boils over even as Az shoots you a murderous glare. Your dress matches the blue on his costume, with lace cutouts that expose your collar bones, and delicate fabric that flows like water around your upper thighs. The whole thing is delicately studded with blue and silver rhinestones like you wrapped yourself in the night sky. Azriel briefly feels like the air is sucked out of his lungs as he watches you examine yourself in the mirror.
“Well, what do you think?” You twirl once for effect scattering stardust in your wake. “It’s not so bad is it?”
“No,” Azriel coughs around a closing throat. “Not bad at all.” You nod, sending him a puzzling look. The two of you change back into your normal clothes and bid Alis goodnight before walking to your cars.
“We’re still on tonight for bowling with Rhys and Cas right?” You ask rocking back on the balls of your feet.
“Absolutely.” He agrees.
“There’s actually something I wanted to ask you about,” You start right before you’re about to split for your cars. Azriel nods at you to continue. “Lucien wanted to know if he could come tonight, he really needs to get out of the house, so he’ll be there too.”
“Alright.” Az answers “See you later.” he tucks his hands in his hoodie pocket again before walking to his own car.
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Lucien somehow successfully gets into the passenger seat of your car casted foot and all. You didn’t realize how much you missed him until you were driving around like you always did, singing along badly and loudly to your driving playlist. Eventually, you pull up infront of the bowling alley, bright neon lights bouncing off of the hood of your car. You help Lucien out of the seat, handing him his crutches and slowly walking into the bowling alley. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel are already inside having claimed a booth and a lane in the back corner. Cas greets you joyfully scooping you up and twirling you around immediately, he also claps Lucien on the shoulder and you’re grateful that at least someone is making an effort to make him feel included. Rhys ordered you nachos and a drink and got Lucien a soft pretzel immediately chatting up a storm about their shared business communication class. Az hasn’t even said hello to you, even though this is supposed to be one of your bonding experiences, he just gave the both of you a noncommittal head nod and shoveled pizza in his mouth. You try not to outwardly sigh because you thought you were making progress, you thought you were past this.
You thought you were almost friends.
Attempting to stomp down the flash of hurt you send him a tight-lipped smile and a nod in return. This is Lucien’s first night out since his accident, so you will remain positive for his sake.
Bowling continues uneventfully after that. Azriel and Cas are seemingly in a heated competition over this bowling match, and you and Rhys are playing much less committedly. Rhys has been flirting with the girl behind the counter for the past fifteen minutes, and you had been half-heartedly throwing your ball down the lane when it was your turn.
Lucien had been a good cheerleader from his spot in the booth, but you weren’t very concerned about the game, content to sip on the slushy you bought. The two of you are in the middle of a very animated conversation when Cassian calls your name, coming behind you and looping his arms around your shoulders.
“Are you coming to the victory party this Saturday after the game?” He drawls, glancing at Azriel out of the corner of his eye. “I would invite you to Vanserra, but-” Cassian glances at Lucien’s casted leg but the red-head simply shrugs.
“No offense taken here.” Lucien raises his hands in mock surrender, “That’s not really my scene anyway.”
“Well, we are planning on crushing your brothers’ team anyway, too bad Azzy’s still benched.” Cassian croons and Azriel sends him a murderous glare from where he’s about to launch his bowling ball. “You should come, we’ll be drinking on the Smokehound tab anyhow.” It was a sort of unspoken agreement amongst some of the local university hockey teams, losers host an after-party, booze included.
“I’ll think about it.” You promise, and Cas ruffles your hair before leaving to grab his bowling ball.
You completely miss the silent daggers Azriel is sending Cassian from behind your back. He doesn’t want you anywhere near this party, and Rhys won’t be too happy about your attendance either. Cas does nothing but chuckles at him with a knowing glint in his eye that sparks his irritation. You look at him once over your shoulder, and you must mistake his glower for being directed at you because for a brief second hurt flashes across your eyes.
Something pinches in his chest and Azriel can do nothing but shove his hands in his pockets and avert his gaze to the ground.
@sidthedollface2 @bionic-donut @lyinginameadow @feyretopia
@natashachelsea @going-through-shit @mika-no-sekai-blog @hijabi-desi-bookworm @brandywineeeee @littlelunelunatic @gorlillaglue25
#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acosf fanfiction#acotar imagine#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel imagine#Meet Me On The Ice#azriel shadowsinger#acotar au#azriel au#azriel spymaster
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Word count: 2100+
Warnings: mentions of killing - blood, wounds, pain, fear - I tried to be decent and as non descriptive as possible, but..👀
Second chapter this week because every voice matters and counts 😉
Anyway, this one is probably horrible 😅
Part XVI | Part XVIII
You were determined. Right that night after Lucien's visit, you looked up Rhys' office again. Inside you felt cold and empty, somehow disconnected as you knocked on the door. The answer came immediately. Being it other day you would laugh because it seemed as if Rhys lived in his office. When you needed you always found him there. But today wasn't the day.
You peeked in finding him seated behind his desk covered with different documents. At first he didn't pay you any attention, too busy with whatever he was reading. He was frowning at the paper in his hand, the other one played with the pen. You knew what this gesture meant. Something worried him. Or pissed him off. When he was younger he unconsciously played with different objects all the time. The habit almost disappeared as he grew older.
"May I?" Hearing your voice he jerked up and finally looked up from the papers. He blinked as if he didn't hear you come in.
"Y/N? Yeah.. Yeah, sure," Rhys stood up, offering you a seat. He checked the time "Something happened? It's quite late."
Yes, you wanted to shout at him, but you wouldn't do so. A lot of things had happened, the conversation between him and Lucien that you overheard, was one of them. But you already made up your mind. You wouldn't mention Tamlin. He would refuse you as he refused Lucien. Your brother was too stubborn. You came to ask him for the last favour, for the last piece of puzzle. It was strange and hard to explain, but you knew you needed it. At last you were ready.
Your face had to give you away because his jaw tightened and he crossed hands on the chest. His piercing gaze scanned you, his shoulders tensed. Words weren't necessary, he understood.
"It.. it won't be easy," Rhysand spoke slowly. "I won't be able to take out one memory at a time. They are too tangled up. I'll have to break the barrier. The process can be quite unpleasant, maybe even painful and the memories will all come at once. It might be very traumatic experience."
He was trying to warn you, prepare you for inevitable. Of course he was worried for your wellbeing and how it could hurt you, yet he was impatient, too. Since you came he kept asking about that particular night, never really pressuring you about it. However Rhysand eagerly waited for this moment.
Straightening your back you stuck out your chin. Your gaze didn't falter. "I know." You were ready. You'd spent all afternoon preparing for the worst.
Rhysand curled his lip, thinking. "Fine," he spoke after a moment. "But there is one thing I want from you."
"What is it?"
"I want to see it. All. From the start to the end. Everything you remember, not just some glimpses."
You frowned. "Why?"
He pushed off of the desk that he was leaning against and turning away from you headed to the window where lights of the city on the other bank of Sidra shone. He was silent. Minutes passed. You waited.
"I-.. I need to know what he caused."
You swallowed watching his back. You shivered with cold even though the room was warm. "He?"
Rhysand slowly turned back to you, looking straight in your eyes. "Tamlin." His voice wasn't more than a whisper, but it was so harsh, so full of rage you winced as if he slapped you.
"What does he have to do with it?" Your voice was hoarse. Lump grew in your throat and breathing once again became laboured.
"He was the one who told his father where you would be."
"Why would he do that? And how could he know anyway?"
"At that time we were still friends. He knew it because I told him. It'd never occurred to me that something like that could happen."
You held your breath, still shivering. Rhysand watched your trembling hands with hardened expression. You clenched them into fists pressing them to your lap to hide the tremors. "And what will you do after you find out?"
He considered it. "I'll hate him even more," he said at last. "Our father made him pay enough already."
"You won't hurt him?" Rhysand just shook his head. "Can you promise it?"
"I can, but.. I know you care about him even though I'm against it. And I don't get it. Honestly. However I wouldn't hurt you that way. For me you are much more than a promise."
You pressed your lips together. You believed him, you really did. But if you managed to get back to Spring Court, there was no doubt Rhysand would be angry. Very angry. Then anything could happen and you didn't want to risk it. And so thinking about the future, you asked him to make a promise. He didn't hesitate for even a second and did what you asked him for.
You felt a prickling sensation on your right shoulder. Rhysand rolled up his right sleeve. With awe you watched as a tattoo of small rose appeared on his forearm and you knew that its twin was on your shoulder.
Now you could start.
It was just as Rhysand warned you. He couldn't untangle the threads no matter how hard he tried and to get them out he had to destroy the barrier. As soon as it was down the confused images that chased you in the nightmares came alive.
You were camping with your mother and a few other females and children on the rocky bank of the river in Illyrian mountains. It was peaceful time and you had a lot of fun sitting with them around the campfire, listening to the stories. After eating some more marshmallows you all retired to own tents for the night.
Several hours later you were woken up by screams and smell of smoke and something metallic. Bed next to you was empty. You crept through the tent on all fours and peeked out.
The ground was smeared with blood, some of the tents were burning, females protecting their children, were trying to hide or run away, but all of them were met with the same fate. Small group of males slaughtered them on the spot or hurt them enough, so they couldn't move, and dragged them to the center of the camp. Blood dripped from their swords, wild grins on their faces. They spared no one.
You were terrified, but you knew the second you would make any noise, even the smallest, they would notice you. Your muscles locked on the spot and only thing you could do, was watching the horror around.
Movement at the edge of the campsite caught your attention. A blond hair male appeared. Your eyes widened. You knew him. It was the young male from Spring Court who you saw with your brother once. His clothes were clean, without a single drop of blood. He was unarmed and looked around in horror. Your eyes met for a moment. His mouth moved as if he was telling you to stay hidden.
Then he grabbed one of the girls and.. in a flash of light her features changed. Now she looked exactly like you. Your heart painfully throbbed in your chest. What did he just do?
Another male with sword came into view, getting close to him. The male was older, his clothes and light colored hair were stained with blood, but that was all you could say about him. You didn't see his face.
The male laughed. "Great job, son! We were looking for this little bitch."
He grabbed the girl. "Now return home," he ordered to young male.
Tamlin didn't move, his eyes jumping between the male and the girl. He didn't dare to even look your direction. "But.."
"I told you to leave!" male snapped, authority of high lord in his voice. Tamlin gritted his teeth as his body bent and then he winnowed away.
You watched as male dragged the girl to the group gathered in the center of camp where you all sat around campfire only several hours earlier.
Females and children who survived cried in pain. The male tossed girl to them. A female reached for girl, tugging her to her chest to protect her. It was your mother. Her wings were broken, blood seeping from deep wound on her side. She was pale, but baring her teeth she said something. You didn't hear her through all the cries and crackling of the fire. All males boomed with laughter.
Then they took one person after another and cut their throats in front of your mother. She didn't cry, refusing to give them what they sought. Soon enough your mother and the girl were the only ones alive.
One of the males reached for the girl. Your mother fought him, but he was stronger. He punched her to the face and for a moment her grip on the girl weakened. Male snatched the girl, dragging her to the pile of bodies. Other two males gripped your mother's arms when she tried to get to her.
This time it wasn't fast death that waited for the girl. First, the oldest of them cut the membranes of her wings. Girl screamed in pain, but the male who dragged her there, held her in place. Then slowly they cut off her wings making it as painful as possible. At some point girls shrieks stopped as she fainted. At last they cut her head off, tossing it to your mother's knees.
Your mother screamed at the top of her lungs and cried this time. When the oldest of the males moved toward your mother you couldn't watch it anymore. You curled to ball, your body was shaking uncontrollably and not only with sobs. Closing eyes you pressed hands to your ears, but you still heard your mother's screams until they fell silent.
You didn't know how long you lay there. Maybe you even fainted for a moment. A strong hand grabbed your elbow, dragging you to your feet. It was one of the younger males.
"Look what I found," he grinned. Others were confused.
"Didn't we already take care of her?"
"I could swear I put her head into that box," the other said.
"How is it possible there are two of them?"
You wanted to fight the male who held you. However his grip was so strong you already felt the forming bruises.
Around you stood only the young males, the older one was nowhere to be seen. You managed to slap one with your wing.
"Bitch!" he shouted in anger.
A sharp pain shot through your body. You cried out. One of your wing landed in the dirt, droplets of blood rolled down your arm, clothes on your back became soaked, sticking to your body. Blood dripped on the ground, mixing with the others. Another wave of pain shot through your body as the other wing followed the first one.
You fell to your knees without feeling the impact or the sharp stones cutting into your flesh. It was the most agonizing pain you'd ever felt. Everything blurred before your eyes. Voices around you kept fading and coming back like echo, but you didn't understand a single word. Your world turned upside down.
You had to faint because you didn't remember much of what followed. At one moment you felt hands around your shoulders and under knees, blurred face of older male and night sky above you.
You awoke for a while in a room that looked more like a cell. It was dark and reeked with dirt, blood and magic. So much magic.
You were lying on your stomach, your back was burning. The older male was bending over you, doing something with your wounds. It hurt so much.
Your mind kept switching between unconsciousness and awareness. The buzzing in your head was driving you crazy. You heard muffled voices, but didn't understand what they spoke of. World was spinning with you too fast and you were nauseous. You remembered puking once, but that was all.
And then it suddenly stopped. Fresh air filled your lungs, stretching them delightfully. You opened your eyes, looking around.
Soft green light was penetrating through the windows. You were lying in a soft bed. You felt strangely empty and little confused. But there was no pain and that was the only thing that mattered. Who would care in that situation about not remembering anything, about not knowing where you were and how you got there. It didn't hurt anymore. And that mattered the most.
Taglist:
@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot
#english isnt my first language#tamlin x reader#tamlin acotar#tamlin#pro tamlin#rhys acotar#rhysand acotar#rhysand#spring court#acotar fanfiction#acotar#sarah j maas#rhysand's sister#tamlin fanfiction#fanfiction
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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕞
Azriel x reader(kinda)
Part 1
Next >>
A/N: okay be easy on me I haven’t written for ACOTAR before. But at the end of the day I always say I write for myself so 🤭
A/N: i do genuinely hope everyone who likes this series enjoys! Have a beautiful day ♥️
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The snow was stuck to the ground. It was high time they started. But he was late. The white crystals crunched under Cassian’s heavy pacing. Rhys leaned against a tree, tapping his arm, periodically and pointlessly searching for Azriel’s shielded mind. A mind that had never been off limits to him before. He knew Cassian suspected him of doing something to upset Azriel, and he had in fact used his authority as ruler to forbid him from conversing with Elain. But he could have never imagined he’d go radio silent. And certainly, he would never miss this. It was tradition, what brought them together. He had hoped this day would be what finally allowed him to see his own point. The following weeks after the order was passed had met Rhysand with nothing on Azriel’s end unless there were necessary updates on whatever was happening in Prythian. Any attempts to communicate were met with, ‘anything else?’ ‘Is that all?’
Feyre had finally demanded for him to tell her why Azriel didn’t want to speak to her or Elain anymore. Safe to say if it wasn’t for Nyx, Feyre would be giving him the silent treatment as well.
“Alright. What did you do?” Cassian growled
“Nothing.”
“Rhys.”
“I told him to stay away from Elain. The last thing we need is for a war to break out against Autumn Court. They may just take Lucien sides if he decides to duel him. She isn’t his mate. I thought he would understand. Its been a year. I thought Mor--”
He could see Cassian shaking to control his anger, “Told, as in ordered?”
“…Yes.”
“Because all mated pairs work out so well.” He scoffed. “Where is he?”
“I…I don’t know. He’s only been communicating whatever’s been necessary.” Rhys hears Cassian think about how perhaps Nesta was right and flies off. Rhysand can only sit down, exhausted. It was the winter solstice. They would be exchanging gifts soon, how would he explain his brother’s absence? “Where the hell are you Az?”
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He could have easily traveled through his normal shadows, but flying the distance hurt more. And he deserved it. He told himself it was pure curiosity, but he knew he was running. Or flying. He reached Vallahan and still… he kept flying. Wondering what he would find beyond the expansive faerie realms. Maybe more possible allies even further west. Days he flew until his wings physically couldn’t hold him anymore. This was dangerous, he should star flying lower, not so high up. He looked at his hands shaking at the sheer exhaustion of his travels.
Pathetic, he thought. Pining for centuries for someone who showed him time and time again she would never be interested. And why would she be? He was nobody. Strong, sure but what else? His own family rejected him, hated him. Then Feyre came into their lives, and subsequently her sisters did too. Two of the three mated to his “brothers,” the third…the kindest, the only one who seemed to have even noticed him, mated to someone else. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t owed Elain, by any means. But when would he find a mate of his own. Would he even know if he found her? Was he so desperate to have someone he would focus on Elain, so he, like his brothers had an Archeron sister? No, Rhysand was right. He needed to stay away from her. From all of them, until he could figure out what was wrong with him. Maybe he should just disappear forever…save himself any more suffering. Suffering. Endless suffering. He could hardly remember a time where he was happy. Within the Inner Circle, he suffered at seeing Cassian and Mor. Never really forgetting that betrayal. When he was young…
A pain wracked through his body. He’d pushed his body to its limits. He began falling. Making no effort to help himself. Somewhat glad it could all be over. He was falling backwards, not seeing the giant trees about to break his fall. He groaned as his wings took the majority of the impact, vines intertwining and suspending him halfway above the ground. Any movement he made everything hurt. His eyes looked at the sky, his eyelids fluttering shut. Finally giving in to his exhaustion.
‘I’ve never seen wings like that.’
‘Where do you think he’s from?’
‘Both of you quiet. He will be waking soon. Go. We may need to hide.’
He should disappear right now. Use the shadows. But he didn’t even know where he was, let alone where to go. East, he supposed until he reached something familiar. But then he’d have to explain himself. Allies. Looking for allies. Azriel struggled to open his eyes. Worried about what he would see. Or wouldn’t see. The room seemed to glow around him.
“Before you decide to run, or even move. I would suggest you move slowly.”
Even with warning, Azriel’s head snapped towards the voice. He ignored the pain as he took her in. A woman he could only describe as regal. She looked serious, her skin seemed to shimmer in the warm orange glow of the room. Her wings were down but even he could tell they were magnificent. Dark hair flowed down to her waist, different braids woven in and small flowers adorning it. Azriel blinked a few times, trying to get his voice back. Trying to memorize this place. Trying to memorize her, “Where am I?”
“You crash landed in our home. This is Luminia Grove. Now, where are you from?” Azriel grows quiet, “Listen, we took you in, last I checked. If you don’t want to talk, fine. Try not to get tangled in anymore trees, yes?”
“I’m from Prythian.” Azriel spoke softly, embarrassed. Here he had gone crashing into their home, they had taken him in and still he demanded answers.
“Should I know where that is? How long were you flying for?”
“A few days…I think.” How far exactly had he gone? She only nods and leaves the room. When she enters she is followed by two others carrying in plates of food, meanwhile the one who been waiting for you to wake, carried a pitcher of something.
“Eat and drink. We can get you more if you need. You need to rebuild your strength to get home. I’m Callista. These two are Aurora, and Venia.” They both nod in your direction before leaving. She leans down next to him, When he flinches, her voice softens. “I’m just going to help you sit up, okay?”
She is careful about his wings, still healing from the magic she must have used when he slept. “Thank you.” he whispers hoarsely
“If you need to rest longer do so, but only as long as you need to heal.” Azriel nods, and begins eating some of the food he was offered. Before he can thank her again, she exits the room leaving him alone.
You could leave. It would be as if you were never here. He thought to himself, but he also wasn’t ready. He couldn’t go back, continue living in the shadows. Both figuratively and literally, it had drained him. He was so tired. Worthless. Maybe a couple days, if they allowed it. Callista certainly didn’t seem keen on his presence. But her words did not sound impatient, but rather worried. He wonders if she was trying to give him a warning. Azriel decides to shift his focus on the meal in front of him. The food is better than anything he’d ever had anyway, so much so he had to stop himself from licking the plate. The drink seemed to replenish any lasting pain. Reenergizing him. Aurora and Venia entered the second he was finished.
“Would you like more?” Venia asked
“No. Thank you. I was won—” The second they got their answer they left again. Azriel immediately regrets it. In truth, more food sounded wonderful. He got up and stretched his limbs, slowing testing his wings. He could have sworn he heard them crack but he felt next to nothing now. Just some soreness. Azriel realized the room he was in was very simple, a few beds lined up on one side. A couple dressers on the other. There was a single closet, locked. He decided to explore whatever place this was alone, maybe he could find figure out why no one had ever found this place, and if they had why had no one mentioned it? Not fast enough. Callista opened the door as he reached for the handle.
“Escaping already?”
“No. Just…I just wanted to see more. I can stay here…if you need me to.”
“You’re welcome to walk around. You may get some questions. Just so you know, since you don’t seem like the talkative type.” She was right, his lips formed a tight line. When he took a few steps back, she reached for his hand. “I’ll show you around.”
When he grabbed it he glanced down, suddenly ashamed at the sight of them. When she followed his gaze, Azriel pulled his hand back. He didn’t want to talk about them. Callista noticed, but her face remained unchanged. She grabbed his hand again and led him out the door. Azriel’s face felt red. He didn’t pull away this time. He was thankful the lady had said nothing, acted as if there was nothing. The door led directly outside, Azriel realizing he had been in some sort of infirmary. A whole room somehow built into and concealed by trees and foliage. The branch the two stepped on was wide. When he looked up he could only see glimpses of the sky. He wondered how long he’d fallen, how hard he crashed. And how long he’d been out.
“Yeah, I don’t know how you fell all that way. You must have been up pretty high.” Azriel stared, wondering if she could dig into his mind like Rhys could. “It looks a lot better at night.”
“What is this place?”
“A hideaway of sorts. We don’t get many visitors. And the ones we do get…well they can never find this place twice it seems.”
“I could.”
“Maybe. You do have some ability, I assume. There’s a power that surrounds you. And those things adorning you. They give off some very powerful energy.”
“Syphons. They allow me to control my power in battle. Magic.”
“Hm. So do you want to talk about what it is you were searching? Why risk your life flying for that amount of time?”
“I- I don’t know what I was flying for.” This was true, Azriel had decided to start flying. To escape, to find allies, whatever. He figured he could find a reason on the way. He looked back down at Callista. She was studying him, curious. Probably worried about the shadows that never seemed to leave him, he thought. She tilted her head and motioned for him to follow. Her wings unfurled into four beautiful leaf shaped wings, with colors he could only describe similar to the sunrise. Only more breathtaking. Yellows turning into pinks, purples barely touching the edges. Her wings shifted colors depending on where the light hit. He’d never seen wings so beautiful. They were almost translucent, they looked as if they could shatter like glass. His own wings, the same ones that he had always hated seem to pale in comparison. He’d never felt more like an Illyrian. Filthy. Unworthy. A monster.
He followed her down into the deep thicket of the woods. He could see the homes concealed through magic. Still most fae should be able to find this place, if they so desired they should see through the glamour. So how has no one returned upon finding this location? She landed on what appeared to be a giant root, a home hidden on the forest floor. Azriel sat down next to her, face serious, determined to get more answers.
“You carry much pain.”
“Do I? Tell me what you see.”
“I do not know. I just see sadness, pain.”
Azriel scoffed, “You think you know me. You don’t even know my name.”
“I do not need to know your name. You will be gone soon. You have unfinished business. Everyone who finds us, they always have some kind of unfinished business.”
“And if I wanted to stay?” He means this as a threat. He was a stranger, surely they would fight to keep their precious village secret. She pauses but after a moment Callista only shrugs.
“Then you would stay.”
“Wait…what?”
“You will not stay. But if you chose to, we would welcome you.”
“You know nothing.” Azriel could feel his anger rising, his guard up. Years of being silent threatening to spill from his lips.
“Then teach me.” Callista offered, her voice unwavering, “Tell me about your life. From the beginning. We don’t get many guests here. I would love to learn about your life. Learn how others grew up.”
“You cant just dig into my mind?”
“Why would I do that? Your thoughts should be yours and yours alone.”
“So, you have the ability to?”
“No.” She giggles, “It is good to know that there are those with those kind of abilities. Sounds like a nightmare to never be able to hide anything. Besides, what if this person shares secrets that aren’t his to share?”
“It is useful--”
“I’m sure. Listen—you are under no obligation to speak to me. You are more than welcome to fly up to the room you were in when you woke. I would suggest you make your decision soon. Time seems to move differently here, or so I’ve been told. You will have been gone longer than you think upon your return home.”
“Who is the high lord here?”
“High lord?”
“Who rules these lands?” If he did want to make alliances or threats, he supposed it was best to know who he should be directing his questions towards. Azriel was already warming up to Callista, he’d rather not involve her. Of course, as usual, luck was not on his side.
“I suppose I do, along with a council of peers my parents selected before they died. I have no interest in leading, and more voices and ideas are heard that way. Not that we’ve called a meeting in a few centuries.”
“I…apologize. I did not mean—”
“You are avoiding my questions. I don’t find that very fair. I have answered all of yours honestly. Am I not owed the same respect, or do you not do that in Prythian? Is it only High lords that talk over each other?” She smirked, and Azriel couldn’t help return a small smile. It was a habit to go straight into interrogations, he supposed. And if he could really never find this place again, it couldn’t hurt. Maybe she would have advice to carry back to Prythian. He would say the facts, avoid emotion. Make it quick and painless.
“I suppose I’ve been rather rude. Where would you like to start?”
“The shadows. Tell me about them. Are they always there?”
“They’ve followed me since I was a child.”
“Do they hold a purpose?”
“I can travel in them. See and hear things others don’t.”
“So, you were running from something.” She says this so matter of factly it is almost enraging. Callista studies the creature in front of her. His eyes, almost golden seemed so tired. As if he had been tired for far longer than the days he had flown to get here. The despair so evident, she wondered if he had anyone at all. Her words had set something off, “I only say that, because if you can travel in the darkness why fly at all? Does it take a lot of energy?”
Azriel’s shook his head, cursing himself for jumping to conclusions again, “Not anymore. I suppose you aren’t entirely wrong, I wanted to distract myself. So, I just…flew.”
“I would be careful using your gift prematurely here, there is a chance you get lost. And you need at least one more day until you are fully healed to fly the same distance.”
“Has no one really come back?”
“None in my time. There’s always something that they really need to go back to. One had been in a long battle, he was weary…he’d lost so much. He stayed here for years, one day he was suddenly heartbroken about his wife. Swore he would bring his family here, he never came back. He stayed the longest but there have been others. They stay as long as they need and continue their journey. Like you.”
Azriel wanted to argue but she was right. He couldn’t disappear from the night court for long. But this place… something about this place sang to him. He wondered if this is what Callista had meant. The thought of having to leave was becoming more difficult, if there was some kind of enchantment over these lands then Azriel may well have to concede and leave sooner than he’d like. He was likely already wearing down Callista’s hospitality.
“Have you ever left?” Azriel asks, curious of whether she was, in her own way, trapped. His theory was unfortunately, proved right. She bit her lip, trying to figure out the best way to explain her situation.
“For a while, I got so bored I couldn’t seem to care about ever finding this place again. I would fly for miles in one direction, somehow always ending up back here. The people here have had children of their own, and we have expanded but…its like a dome of some kind growing with us but not allowing anyone to escape.” She was right, he could see a faint outline surrounding the sky.
“My home had something similar. A protection spell. Several actually. Kept us hidden for years, only known to those who lived there.”
“By the same person who reads minds, I assume.” When Azriel nodded, she looked towards the sky, with a look he was longing. A freedom so close yet still, out of her reach. “If there is a spell it wasn’t placed by any of us. The elders have mostly passed on, and no one has left me any information. We can only learn so much, many advancements were made by those who happened upon us. Even then, we don’t always have the resources.”
Azriel decided then that he had to go back. He could figure out how to undo the spell, he was sure of it. At the very least he could bring back more books for them to entertain themselves with, he could contribute to their peaceful home. If he could make it back anyway. He enjoyed a good challenge. When Callista looked back at him she smiled sadly, knowing he too would leave, same as all the others before him. They both knew it. A guilt tugged deep at his heart, if he couldn’t return, he would be the same as all the others who had come and gone, she may forget him with time. But he knew he would never be able to forget her… or this place. He wondered if this is what Velaris was to the Archeron sisters.
“Would you really want to know how I can move through shadows?”
“No.” Azriel’s face dropped for a moment, “I want to know why you can move through shadows. That is not something you learn, and I doubt something you’re born with. The magic around you shaped itself that way for a reason, yes?”
“Hm, yes I suppose so.” Try as he might, the words got stuck in his throat. He had his hands clasped in front of him, but now one of his hands began picking at the, pushing back his nail bed. A habit he had long pushed away. His legs shook nervously, and no training could have prepared him for startling at Callista’s touch. Her hand resting gently on his thigh. She smiled, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Azriel forced himself to take a deep breath and recount those horrible early years.
‘Please!’ He screamed into the darkness, ‘Please! It’s too dark!’
‘Please…’ the screams turned into whimpers, ‘I’ll be good. Please…’
‘Please…’ His voice was hoarse by the end of the day. Close to no sound coming out. The following days would be him curled into a ball humming to pass the time.
Then his weekly day of freedom came. His moths arms almost crushing him in an embrace. He begged for her to let him stay. Pleaded for her to run away with him. He had to be dragged away at the end of day, the following day he would worry about possible claw marks on his mothers arms. He was always thankful for their ability to heal quickly if only for that.
The cycle repeated. On and on for years. His pleas went unheard to everyone except himself. His voice bounced of the walls and eventually even his whispers that reverberated back sounded crystal clear. His eyes grew adjusted to the dark, making out every chip on the wall, every groove. An ability others would always be wary of. He didn’t mind, it kept him safe. kept him from feeling the almost endless pit of loneliness and despair. The singular hour he would be allowed out for a meal was often forgotten, but never long enough to let him waste away. No, he would live a long life, his stepmother would ensure that, a long and miserable life.
If they came and got him out it would be at the same time without fail, he could count the seconds of every day and know immediately whether or not he would be allowed to see the sky, the sun, eat whatever scraps they served him. So, when he was blinded nearly an hour earlier than normal he knew it couldn’t be good. His brothers had planned it out so perfectly. The light, unexpected at this time, blinded him, and they all knew the two older boys were stronger, never knowing a day without a full belly. One forced him down onto the ground, the other quickly throwing oil in his direction. Lack of training or not, Azriel had the mind to know he needed to protect himself. His reflexes fast enough to shield his face.
The he heard the match strike and the smell of burning flesh lingered in the room for weeks. At eight years old, a part of him hoping the fire would finish the job. But someone cared enough to put the fire out. Some guard who pitied what they were doing to the child. A child who should have been learning how to fight, how to fly. He had a full day out to recover, his hands now always holding a reminder of where he stood in. He held no hope he wouldn’t be thrown back into his dungeon. But for the following week, at least he got some better food. This incident caused him to try and remain hidden. No matter who was opening the door he focused his entire being on being undetected, and eventually he began to blend into the darkness. He realized his anility to move within the shadows, panicking a few guards into thinking he’d escaped and then suddenly reappearing behind them. He kept silent about this until he was thrown into the Illyrian camp. It became a tool used to not discard him, to continue training him. And he had trained well.
He learned to defend himself. He was sought out by Cassian and Rhysand, at first curious of his abilities and soon after for fighting practice. His memory was foggy on how eventually they all agreed to remain allies, then friends, and eventually brothers. The wars they had fought, the battles they would have to fight…
Had he been foolish to think his friendship would be anything more than a convenient alliance. He knew his ability made him valuable, he didn’t want to let it define him. As much as he tried to rationalize it, Azriel couldn’t help feel as if Rhysand had chosen Lucien over himself. An alliance over his “brother.” He shouldn’t feel this way at all, Rhys was right, everything was in a delicate balance right now. Still, Azriel couldn’t release the hurt, the resentment that had grown in him until he collapsed here. He flinched at the sudden touch, frozen at the hands intertwining themselves with his own. He hated pity. He wanted to pull away but instead he found himself returning the gentle squeeze.
“I could remove them.”
“What?”
“Your scars. I quite like them actually, but I can remove them if it’s something you want.”
“How?”
“I’m not the only one who feels trapped here, nor the only one who has tried to escape. There was a fire. Someone felt death was a better option than an eternal bubble of isolation from the rest of the world. The trees were so bare then…” Her eyes seem to glaze over the memory, as if she remembers an entirely different forest than the one they sit in now.
“Everyone was working to control it, but the damage was done. Many of us didn’t want the reminders of what the fire had taken. For the following years everyone focused on learning and perfecting different kinds of magic; healing, elemental, conjuring, protection.” She chuckles dryly, “All that learning and we still cant figure out how to escape.”
“It helps with ignoring the pain.” He thinks out loud
“Yes. I lost my father then. Got several burns myself trying to drag him out.”
“And you got rid of them?”
“No.” She released his hand and waved it on her opposing arm, the burn marks appearing immediately after her hand passed, it seemed to stretch across her entire arm, like tree roots stretching up to her neck. “ I got off fairly easy. Its just this arm. I had thrown my body over my father once we were out of harms way and shielded my face. They found passed out with my arm and a lot of my hair singed off.”
“I thought you had said you could get rid of it.”
“It used to be worse believe it or not. Had scars on parts of my face and neck, so when we figured out a salve for it I immediately slathered it on those parts first. I ended up regretting it. I only hide my arm so others aren’t so uncomfortable. No one likes to think about those times.”
It was his turn to not pity her. He became even more determined to be able to return. To find his way back. He could technically try and take her with him when he traveled but he only had one day left. Certainly not long enough for her to trust him.
“I’ll keep them.” Was all he could say, he hated the scars but they had reminded him of how far he’d come from those awful years.
“Good.” She waved away the scars and stood up, “It will be dark soon. Feel free to rest some more before you leave. I will ask Aurora and Venia to bring up some more food. Thank you for letting me get to know you a bit more.”
The shadows around him began whispering, Azriel could not tell if it was warning or not. One, she still had no idea what his name was, and two for the first time since he was a child, he was not able to see her glamour. She had told him how many of the people here had studied magic intensely, but even then she had underplayed it. These people would undoubtedly be useful in the war, but their numbers were small. Most courts would rather them all be dead than give another court even more unnecessary power. Azriel would never be able to reveal this location, but unfortunately his High Lord had the ability to drag it out of him no matter how unwilling he would be. His best chance would be Feyre, but ultimately she was loyal to her mate, maybe with enough guilt she would at least tell him to not invade his thoughts. Maybe the fae here would have the ability to make some sort of mental shield or him, or at the very least teach him how to make one himself. He would not give these people up. He flew back in the room he woke up in and decided to try and rest.
Callista gently nudged him, Azriel shot up. He should have heard her come up, been warned she was coming up. Were his own abilities weakening while he was here?
“Sorry, I didn’t want the food to go cold.”
“Its fine. I apologize for being so on edge.”
“You’re in a strange place, far from home. Its normal for you to be more guarded.” Guarded as he may be, he still felt more at peace than he had in months. He had been silent, brooding for an entire year. Claiming to be busy with his duties to Rhys. He had maintained normalcy with Cassian and Nesta but that was about as much as he could manage. He finally felt like he could breathe here. Not so restricted by the formalities he would have been forced to placate during the solstice. He would not be able to stay away for much longer. He would need to head back, assure Feyre everything was fine, assure Rhys that he was only doing as he was told. Continue following instructions. Nyx’s birth was plenty of reason for the Night Court to maintain diplomacy, but it wouldn’t hold out forever. The courts were patient, Amarantha waited ages to win Tamlin over, things had been mostly quiet but they would not remain that way forever. And he couldn’t risk the other’s lives over a petty dispute. He had to remember his place, and his place was an Illyrian bastard who got lucky.
Callista stared at the anguished soul before her, desperately wanting to comfort him. She had already pushed to much in asking him to relive his past. She knew even then he had kept his retelling brief. Whatever was plaguing him seemed to chipping away his own health. He’d healed miraculously quickly with the salves and medicine they had placed on his wings for them to heal. She wondered if whatever healing magic was inside of was the only holding him together most days, surely most people that went through even half of the mistreatment he had would have broken, turned cruel. This man was just…guarded.
Azriel blinks and finds her staring, “Is everything alright?”
“You just seemed troubled. Do you have to leave soon?”
“Unfortunately, I have to admit you were right. I do have to leave soon, I worry in the worst of circumstances others could find this place. You can clearly control magic to a degree even I cannot see through. There are people who would hurt the people here to even get a sliver of it.”
“It is nothing for you to be concerned over.” Callista’s sudden sharp tone takes him by surprise, not knowing his concern for them was making it harder for her to deny any feelings of amicability. She enjoyed his company, and that was dangerous for someone who could never leave her forested prison, and who likely never be able to meet with again. She’d learned early on to never get too attached to those who stumbled into her home. It always ended with disappointment. But it had never felt like this before.
“Perhaps not, but it should concern you. Does anyone here have anything they could do to put a shield of sorts on my mind. I don’t think Rhysand would dig too deep but I don’t want to take any chances. Please, for my own peace of my mind.” Azriel would never be able to live with himself if something happened to Callista because of him. And her people had suffered enough. Callista softened at his genuine concern.
“I can think of something that may work. But I should discuss it with some of the elders. They have all specialized in very specific magic I can only do so much. Please stay here, eat. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Will you join me? I’d like to go with you.” He had to admit to himself that if he was going to leave he wanted to see more of this place. And he had no interest in being alone any longer, he wanted company, her company.
“Of course.” They continued learning about the others lives. Azriel admitted why he decided to fly so long he put himself at risk. How the one who he thought he was in love with continued to disregard him, how he felt constantly used but could never blame her. How when he finally felt like he could move on, he was immediately forbidden from having any communication with. Callista became aware of how serious things were in his realm, it was no wonder he worried it would reach them. She decided she wasn’t fond of his friends at all, his retelling of his life being miserable at camp until the others conceded into an alliance infuriated her. He told her how he had always hated what he was born into, how he hated almost all of his kind. She didn’t want to agree but the hurt they were encouraged to enforce on another was completely barbarian to her.
“Are you alright?”
“You speak about these things as if they are completely normal experiences, I admit I feel… sad for the hand you were dealt. You’ve done quite a bit for others,” she says thinking about Mor and some of the nymphs he saved. “You should be proud. I feel honored to have met you.”
Azriel smirked, she was right in a sense. Her words made him feel, warm? He told himself, it was nothing. He was surely redirecting everything he wanted Mor to feel, and what he believed he should for Elain with her. And he could never do that to her, “Does this mean you’re ready to know my name. I mean wouldn’t you want to know the name of someone you’re so honored to have met?”
“Am I going to regret being nice to you?” She laughed, as she turned to lead him out of the room she tried not to let her disappointment show on her face, “I’ll think about learning it before you go.”
“I could just tell you.” He teased her
“You could, but you would have done that already. Come, I think I know of someone that can help.” She held her hand out, and Azriel only realized he did not hesitate to take it after they landed on the balcony of another concealed home. She called out, “Syra?”
An older woman hobbled out to meet the two of you. “Is this our latest guest?”
“Yes. He has a bit of a possible dilemma,”
“Hm.” Her eye unsettled Azriel. They were a deep set of purple, so dark they were almost ba;cl. He’d never seen a fae age like a human. He wondered if they lived long enough they would eventually get that way. He supposed some of the workers didn’t always appear young but it was something that had never crossed his mind. Guilt crept up inside of him. His entire job was to be aware of everything happening around Prythian, when did he become too good to ignore the lesser fae? Had his powers gone to his head. Callista squeezed his hand, breaking his train of thought. Reassuring him.
He cleared his throat, “I know someone who read into my mind. I’d prefer to keep this place hidden due to some upcoming conflicts. There are a lot of people who would hurt the people here in order to gain a fraction of your magic.”
“They may not be able to take us out of here.”
“Theres some that would die trying.” Azriels mind races to the Autumn Court desperate for power, easily tempted by powers like Amarantha, Hybern, Koshei. Enough power can make even the strongest turn on one another, betray once strong connections.
“Is there anything we can do?” Callista interrupts
“There is always something you can do.” She sits, mixing and grinding various kinds of flowers and herbs hes never seen. A few liquids that look like a mix of starlight and fire. They both hear her mutter something gin a language they don’t understand.
“An ancient tongue,” Callista whispers, “She was one of the few who came from some other land before my people were forced to stay here.”
“Do you know it?”
“No. She refuses to tell anyone what it means.”
Azriels on alert, how could they trust this woman? What if she knew exactly what was trapping them here? Was she the one who trapped them? Voices whispered for him to hush. The shadows reacted similarly to when he would speak to Gwyn. Whoever this woman was, apparently the shadows didn’t perceive her as a threat. If anything they danced around her eagerly, as they were impatient for her to finish with whatever she was making.
“It is ready. I need something from you Callista.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Something to hold this.” The words were slurred. The womans eyes glazed. It was as if she wasn’t fully there but Callista seemed to understand. She pulled a necklace over her head gently, a thin gold chain with a circular pendant.
“What are you doing?” Azriel asked, panicked.
“Trust me.”
Syra took the chain and threw it in the mixture. When she pulled it out, the clear jewel in the circular pendant turned black as night. A shaky hand held it out, her eyes returning to its previous state. “You will wear this.”
“I—” Azriel was stuck on what to say. Should he thank her? Refuse the necklace that belonged to Callista? Be wary of whatever effects the necklace may have? “I cant take this. This isn’t mine.”
“It is only a necklace. Think of it as a parting gift. Something to establish trust or whatever it is you need to explain it. Gesture of good will.” She shrugs. When she sees Azriel’s concern she once squeezes his hand, “I have plenty more just like it.”
“My arm tires, are you going to take the necklace or not.” Azriel finally looks away unable to have read Callista’s face. To figure out whether this is of any importance to her. He grabs the necklace with as much care as he can manage. Syra begins to explain, “When you have this on any nonphysical magic will cease to affect you. Including your friend’s mind reading. Your own gifts shouldn’t be affected. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe.”
“How do you know?” Azriel looked at the older fae’s deep violet eyes. She smiled wryly.
“I simply do.”
Azriel nods, “Thank you.”
He turns to Callista who quickly places the necklaces over him, tucking it into his shirt. “I wish you the best.” She says as she gently taps where the amulet rested.
“I will be back. I’ll figure out how to come back.” He turns to Syra who he can feel studying him, “I will make it up to the both of you.”
“You will not see me again.” The old lady waves him off and he chuckles dryly.
Azriel tries to find the words for the various different emotions bubbling inside him. Callista stops him from saying anything, only echoing her last sentiments. “Best of luck, safe travels.”
She takes a couple steps back, making an effort not to show the jealousy and hurt she feels etching itself in her heart. He smiles, a mischievous smirk growing, “You should know. Its Azriel.”
Callista blinks, not expecting him to say anything more, “W-what?”
“My name. Its Azriel.”
Her face only shows a faint smile as Azriel can only bow his head before easily blending into the shadows of the dimly lit room. Though he had warned her of his ability it was still shocking to see him disappear so easily, mesmerizing. She told herself this was inevitable, that no one ever stays forever. It was wise to have not gotten attached. And while she wouldn’t admit it, it was hard to not be glad to know his name. His departure seemed to steal some of the warmth from the room. She wondered how long it would take him to travel that way. If he maybe could make it back. No one ever had the ability to travel like that.
“You worry too much child, you will see him again soon.”
“Syra, you said so yourself that we wouldn’t be seeing him again.”
“I will not be seeing him again.” She hobbled back to her bed, “You. You will see him soon enough.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
➽───────────────❥
He took a sharp inhale of breath as he arrived at the house of wind. At the training area he had often helped Nesta, Gwyn and Emery. Did he mean to come here? He was barely able to take a few steps as he is almost immediately he is nearly tackled by Nesta.
“You’re back!”
“I am.” He looks around, noticing the lack of snowfall. He remembers Callista’s warning, “How long has it been?”
“You don’t know?” When he shakes his head, Nesta worries of where exactly hes been, “Its been almost three months.”
“That’s…impossible.” How long was he asleep? Did he forget how many days he had been there? How could he forget anything?
Almost immediately everyone had winnowed or flown in. They were all talking at him but he was still getting his bearings. Eventually Amren makes her voice cut through the crowd, “So are you going to tell us where you were?”
“I just remember flying to look for more possible allies.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mor asked
Because I was upset, he thought. “I thought I had. I wasn’t in the mood for another winter solstice at the time.”
He can feel certain faces drop: Elain, Rhysand. He could see the rest of them looking or glaring at the two. Mor tries to lighten the mood again, giving him a hug he doesn’t return, “Well it wasn’t the same without you, we can celebrate late. Right?”
She asks everyone else but Azriel is the one to respond, “No. That’s all right. I think I just need to rest. Nesta can I use a room here?”
“You don’t have to ask.” Azriel nods but he feels numb…empty. When he finally does sleep he think about Callista. Her face, her smile, her scent… He was half tempted to see if he could make it back, but moreso was determined to go back with a kind of solution first.
“Somethings off.” Amren states
“He could just be tired.” Elain tried
“No, shes right.” Rhysand interjects, “Wherever he went, I cant read him. At all. I didn’t even know he had come back. Couldn’t tell.”
“Well, maybe hes practiced blocking you.” Nesta moves her head, daring him to challenge her. “Something’s happened, but we don’t need to accuse him of not caring. We’ll just push him away.”
Feyre flinches, knowing exactly what her sister went through after she finally opened up to her in private. Rhysand is aware of what shes feeling, she wouldn’t speak to anyone for weeks when she found out why Nesta had been so down. She would only talk to Nesta and pretend around Nyx. The rest of time she would be in her room crying about not feeling enough for her sister.
“So what do you suggest Nesta?”
“Watch it.” Cassian growled
“Me and Cassian will be here. Its better if don’t all overwhelm him. Can we at least agree on that?” Everyone mumbled an agreement.
“I should talk to him. Just to let him know we’re here.” Mor states
“No. Nesta’s right. He knows he will have people in this house. Leave him alone.” Feyre voice was steady but everyone knew it was a command. Mor eyes seem to flicker with rage but she nodded. Nesta shooed everyone away, and asked the house to get him some food. Cassian was silent, Nesta squeezed his hand. Leading him to their room.
“Did you see it?” She whispered as loudly as she dared
“What?”
“His shadows.” Cassian shook his head, “When Mor approached him… they didn’t go away this time. They grew.”
➽───────────────❥
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nonsense.
i don't want no one else, baby i'm in too deep.
here's a lil song i wrote, it's about you and me.
masterlist
a/n: i heard this song and immediately thought about meeting az for the first time at rita's and being absolutely stunned at how pretty he is and instantly forming a crush.
summary: during a wild girl's night out, mor introduces you to a certain shadowsinger.
mor had been begging to take you on one of her infamous wild night out for weeks. it was her remedy for a breakup: go out, get drunk, and party until you could no longer remember your ex boyfriend's name.
it wasn't a bad plan and after you took the time to truly get over your last relationship, you finally obliged your friend. mor was elated. as a new resident of velaris, she couldn't wait for you to meet her friends—her family as she called them, and you were equally as excited. you'd heard a lot about rhys, feyre, amren, cassian, nesta, elain, and lucien, but not nearly as much as azriel, who mor seemed to think would be a great match for you.
while you had gotten over the heartbreak of your breakup, you weren't sure you were ready to put yourself out there again. a fact that you reminded mor of as the two of you got ready in your apartment.
the blonde only nodded, piling on dark kohl on your eyes and swiping a bright shade of red on your lips. with mor being mor, you knew that she was probably only half-listening, already forming a plan to push you headfirst into the city of starlight's dating pool. you didn't mind. it'd been a while since you'd gone out with mor and you knew you'd have fun. you always did with her. you'd drink those fruity little cocktails and probably end up dancing on tables by the end of the night. you could hardly wait.
rita's was absolutely packed, which made sense since it was a saturday night. but you and mor skipped over the line winding around the street and came in through the back entrance. perks of being close friends with the high lord's third-in-command, she'd said with a wink.
you laughed as she led you inside, the music and lights and dancing making your body come alive. mor wasted no time and had gotten you shots of something strong. you didn't ask what it was as the two of you clinked your glasses together and downed the alcohol. it set your body buzzing and your lips tingling.
it was three shots in when mor's friends finally found you in the packed crowd. rhys and feyre arrived first, followed by nesta and cassian. rhys made pleasant conversation and asked how you were adjusting to velaris, to which feyre fondly referred to as rhys activating his 'high lord' mode. it made you chuckle. by the way they teased each other, you could tell that the mated couple was deeply in love.
you' instantly got along with cassian after you chugged a tall glass of ale without spilling a single drop. nesta had rolled her eyes as he tried and failed to mimic your actions, but thanked you after you asked if she'd like a water or seltzer since you remembered mor mentioning that nesta didn't drink.
elain and lucien arrived just as rhys was telling you about the time that he had to pay for the damages cassian caused to the bar countertop when he decided to do a strip tease in the middle of happy hour. the redhaired male and the pretty brunette were pleasant and welcoming, but you could tell this wasn't their scene. they only joined you for about an hour or so before bowing out.
amren was terrifying, but she'd brought varian with her and she seemed to soften with him by her side. the prince was charming and an old acquaintance of yours when you used to visit adriata with your family as a child. you'd asked after cresseida and tarquin, glad to hear that the two were doing well and making significant changes within the summer court.
the shadowsinger came last. caught up in official spymaster duties, cassian had told you with a wink. honestly, he was just as bad as mor. he even asked if mysterious, broody males were your type. you'd laughed it off, but the answer would've been a resounding yes.
and then azriel walked through the door.
your jaw actually dropped. because are you fucking kidding? the dark hair and sharp cheekbones and carved jawline and utterly imposing figure that was headed straight towards you couldn't be a real, actual male. he looked like something carved by the gods.
shadows swirled around him like smoke, enveloping the enormous wings at his back. he looked like darkness personified.
you could hardly meet that burning gaze, swirls of the deepest greens and browns flecked with golden rings that blazed like the heart of a forge. and gods, you weren't even breathing, couldn't even hear what mor was saying as she introduced you to this gorgeous male.
"it's nice to finally meet the infamous y/n. mor's told me a lot about you." a hint of mischief, a touch of teasing as he took your hand in his.
you smiled, trying to ignore the warmth of his skin against yours or the way his large hand enveloped over yours. "only the good bits, i hope."
"nothing but the best, my lady."
that voice...cool and smoky and downright seductive. you could've listened to him talk for ages.
now that the whole party had arrived, mor called for a celebratory shot. a round of the strongest liquor, passed around through the group with a hint of salt and lime to ease the burn. azriel had settled by your side and it was his glass that clinked against yours as you all downed your drinks. he chuckled as cassian winced at the taste, but kept his eyes on you as you threw the liquor back with a straight face. a lick of salt and a drop of lime and you couldn't even feel the burn. if anything, the liquor made everything warm and delicious and pleasantly hazy.
as the nerves of first impressions dissipated, you found that you actually really liked mor's friends. they were funny and nice and overall welcoming. none more than azriel.
you talked a bit about your home in the winter court and your new role as principal at the velaris ballet.
"so, what exactly does a shadowsinger do?" you asked, leaning against the marble countertop. "i don't suppose you'd grace us with your angelic voice tonight?"
azriel chuckled and the sound skittered over you like a torrential wind, cooling your overheated skin. "wrong type of singer," he'd teased. "a shadowsinger is just who i am. though angelic is probably the last word anyone would use to describe me."
"oh?" you'd retorted with a raised brow. "with a pretty face like yours, i seriously doubt it."
he leaned in and that delicious combination of night chilled mist and cedar enveloped you on all sides. he smelled delicious. you wanted to drown in it. "i'm not the one that people travel across prythian to watch."
"damn right they do," mor announces proudly, draping an arm across your shoulders. "you should see her up on that stage. she kills it every time." a mischevious smirk curves across the pretty blonde's face. "in fact, why wait? come on, y/n. let's show them how it's done."
with that, your friend dragged you over to the dance floor. the music blared and the faelights flashed and the dancer within you emerged. morrigan was a great partner, moving with the beat as the two of you did what you do best. you were graceful, twirling and turning effortlessly as mor spun you around. azriel couldn't keep his eyes off of you.
"told you i'd make you forget all about that sorry ex of yours!" mor exclaimed as you gyrated to the pounding beat.
"who?" you joked. mor threw her head back in laughter and you joined her, grateful that you'd agreed to come out tonight.
"you were great out there," azriel said an hour later as you slipped out into the quiet street. he hadn't joined the rest of his friends out on the dance floor, preferring to sit back and watch, wreathed by his shadows. but you could feel his gaze on you the entire time.
the chattering of the rest of your group hummed through the balmy night, but the two of you stayed behind, lingering on the outskirts as you walked side by side.
"you should've joined us, shadowsinger."
he smirked and just when you thought he couldn't be more attractive, azriel proved you wrong. "perhaps i will the next time you come out with us."
"always leave them wanting more," you said with a chuckle. "a smart strategy."
"i can't very well show all my cards at once, can i?" was he flirting? azriel knocked his shoulder against yours, his wing briefly brushing against your back. "perhaps we can make a deal. i'll show you mine if you show me yours." oh, he was most definitely flirting.
you laughed, the sound of it deeper and huskier than you've ever heard yourself. "i bet you say that to all the ladies."
"only the exceptionally beautiful ones and i've only come across one of those, so far." his gaze danced over the flush spreading through your cheeks. "save me a seat at your next performance and i promise i'll show you all the dance moves in my arsenal. even the embarrassing ones."
"are you trying to bribe me, azriel?"
"only if it's working."
"friday night. front row."
he smiled. "i'll be there, my lady."
the rest of your group parted ways, some winnowing, some flying. the shadowsinger stayed behind, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. he bid you goodnight before launching into the sky in a dark blur.
mor smirked, draping an arm over your shoulder. "aren't you glad i convinced you to come out with me tonight?"
you chuckled, bumping your hip against hers as you tore your gaze away from the starry sky. "i think i'm going to like it here."
#AHHHHH#the flirting and the banter god could you imagine#azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel fic#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfiction#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel/reader#azriel fluff
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Sunshine and Reunions
"A picnic date with your coworker?" Feyre squeaked through the phone, making Elain wince. "What was his name again?"
"Lucien Vanserra!" Elain replied, picking up another dress and looking im the mirror.
"Hm, the name seems familiar." her sister mused, far in thought. It went quiet on the line as Elain looked at another few dresses, Feyre no doubt trying to figure out where she had heard the name before. Since her sister became pregnant she often lost track of the topic as her mind wandered in all different firections at once but Elain didn't mind. After years of no contact at all she was glad to build a relationship with her youngest sister, finally. "I don't know but I sure heard that last name somewhere."
"His family is very wealthy," Elain replied in thought, finally picking a white dress with a floral corset. "But he's only in contact with his mother, not with the rest of the family."
Feyre hummed, probably nodding on her end as a car door closed outside of Elain’s apartment complex. She hurried to the window, looking outside and finding Lucien walking towards her apartment door. Quickly finishing to tie her corset, Elain rushed to her phone, grabbing a pair of sandals on her way. "I'm so sorry, Feyre, but I have to go. He's here."
"Oh!" Feyre said surprised, "Alright then. Have fun!" she said, sounding genuinely happy, "I'll talk to you later."
"Of course!" Elain picked up her phone, rishing out of her bedroom. "I love you, bye!" she said and hung up, not waiting for a response. Quickly she slipped into her sandals and opened the door, right as Lucien raised his arm to knock.
"First," Elain said, watching as Lucien took her in. "I– I didn't know what you planned so I couldn't plan what to wear, I hope this is alright."
"You're perfect." He replied, awkwardly fidgeting with his hand. "I mean you look perfect– the outfit is perfect for our date. It's great." he shook his head as if waking himself from a trance and stood straighter, a strand of his red hair falling in his face as he smiled at her. "Are you ready?"
"I am!" Elain said, excited for what Lucien had planned. She linked her arm through his, following him to where he lead them. It was a short drive to a near meadow, one that Elain frequently visited when the weather let her. He led her up a small hill, to a big, gnarly tree. Only when they almost reached the top of the hill did Elain see a red and white checkered blanket with a basket waiting for them.
"I thought a picnic would be nice," Lucien said, scratching his head. "The weather is perfect and you once told me how much you like picnic dates."
"You remember that?" Elain asked, her cheeks heating up. "I told you that dueing my first week in the firm!" she looked up at Lucien, his own cheeks turning red. "It's perfect, Lucien. It's a dream." and to both their surprises, Elain stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I smell bread, let's eat!"
"Please!" said Lucien, smiling brightly.
Just a little something for @sjmromanceweek because why not. Enjoy!
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#elucien#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#elain acotar#acotar fanfiction
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Caged In (part 5)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Day 5: Family
Summary: Some long due confrontations take place.
•○●⛦●○•
A/n: this one's... something.
@lucienweekofficial
•○🌑○•
"You're my son..." Helion whispered, his eyes moving frantically over Lucien's face. "How..."
Lucien begged himself to not show any emotions as he spoke. "One would think you would know that."
Helion swallowed, his eyes swimming with something like regret and guilt. "How did you find out?"
"Apparently Feyre figured it out. Y/n told me about it."
"Oh."
He looked so at loss for words that Lucien felt something like pity swirling through him. He decided to spare Helion the struggle and got to the point.
"Why? Did you two have a secret relationship?"
Helion took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. "No. We didn't see each other after she was married. Except that one time. We were both desperate that night, and Beron was out on some trip."
Lucien nodded once, waiting for him to continue. He did.
"She was the daughter of a Lord in Autumn Court. I fell in love when I visited Autumn Court with my father, who was the high lord then. I hoped I would get to marry her, but I didn't want to force her. So I began sneaking out to meet her. At first, she resisted me. Told me to leave her alone. But slowly, she warmed to me.
"The few years that I got to call her mine were the best years of my life. Even if we had to keep it a secret, I was happy. She was happy."
Helion began drinking his wine directly from the bottle now. "One day, when I went to meet her, she was crying in her room. I asked her what happened. She told me her father had fixed her marriage to the new High Lord of Autumn. And I think I lost my mind then.
"I walked straight into her father's office, slamming the door, and demanded that he stop this wedding from happening. Which was not the best choice, but I was young and madly in love. I did not want to consider the consequences of my actions. All I knew was that I wanted your mother."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Her father refused. Said it was too late, that Beron would have his head if he stopped the wedding. And even if it wasn't too late, he wouldn't marry his daughter to someone from another court, that I wouldn't be able to give him what Beron could.
"He had his sentries throw me out, and I had to return. I did meet your mother one last time before the wedding, and she told me to stay away. That it would be too dangerous to meet now that the wedding was near."
Lucien simply stared and stared, trying not to feel anything. But he did. He wished his mother could have what she wanted.
He wondered what his childhood would have been like if he had grown up in day court, with Helion as his father. He wondered if his family would have been a better one.
"When did you..."
Helion swallowed. "It was autumn equinox, and I got a letter. It had no name, but I knew it was her. It was her handwriting. She invited me to the celebration, saying Beron would be away. Of course, I went. She told me that Beron had been in one of his worst moods that week. And so, for equinox, he was going to bed another female. No reason. We had not planned on doing anything other than talking, but as the night progressed, we couldn't stop ourselves."
Lucien tried not to be disgusted. It was not that he was angry his mother had slept with another male despite being married. It just felt weird to hear his father talk about how he was conceived.
They sat there in silence for a few moments, coming to terms with the new information dumped on them both.
Finally, Helion broke the silence.
"Do you... what are we going to do now?"
"I don't know."
"Would you like to stay?"
"I– do you want me to stay?"
Helion's eyes softened. "It's your choice Lucien."
Lucien nodded distantly. He'd never had a choice in picking where he stayed, and so being given that choice now felt like something new.
"I... I think I need time to think."
Helion–his father– nodded. "Take however long you want. The gates to day court will always be open to you, son."
There it was. That word.
Son.
Lucien didn't know why it affected him that much, but it did. Lucien swallowed before standing. "Have a good night." He mumbled, walking towards the door.
"You too." After a pause, his father stopped him. "Lucien? If you don't mind me asking, is there something between you and Y/n? Or do you have feelings for her?"
Lucien froze.
"Why are you asking me that?" He said coldly, turning halfway.
His father smiled knowingly. "I saw the looks exchanged throughout the whole night."
"There is nothing between us." Lucien went to again walk out of the doors, but of course Helion wasn't done.
"It's okay if you don't want to tell me. Just keep in mind to act on your feelings. Don't wait too long." Lucien glanced at him, his hand on the door handle. "I waited too long, and look where it landed us."
His voice was bitter with memories buried under layers of masks and protection, and suddenly Lucien wondered if there was more similarities between him and his father than there were differences.
•○🌑○•
The little girls came sprinting up to him, giggling and laughing, their copper hair, exactly like his, streaming behind them. The twins stopped at his feet, grinning up at him with chocolate all over their face, between their teeth and around their mouth, on their hands and clothes. Everywhere.
He smiled, kneeling in front of the two as he smoothed their hair back.
"Hi. Where's mommy?"
"She's in there, baking cookies." One of them responded.
Lucien nodded, kissing both of them on top of their head and then girls ran off to wherever they were going.
Lucien walked into the kitchen with a sly smile, anticipation building in his gut as he imagined his wife's reaction to his return after his long trip.
"Y/n." He called in a singsong voice as he stepped into the kitchen, and then he came to a standstill.
There she stood. But she wasn't alone. Next to her stood Azriel, his arms around Y/n's waist as he leaned in to kiss her.
Lucien watched them for a moment, dumbfounded. Then the two of them glanced at him with smiles on their faces, and it broke him out of his trance.
"What the hell!? Get away from my wife!"
Y/n furrowed her brows, the smile still on her face. "What are you talking about? He is my husband." Y/n pointed to Azriel, who nodded.
"No he is not. I am." Lucien started to turn to call for his little girls, but they were already standing in the doorway.
Except now, they didn't have his red hair. Now they had Azriel's dark raven hair. Lucien gasped, his eyes flying between the four of them as tears started streaming down his face.
Then Helion's voice reached Lucien, and he turned to find his father smiling at him. "You took too much time, and now you lost her."
Lucien shook his head, a chant of denial spilling from his lips, and he wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
And that's exactly what happened.
He fell into the deep void that opened beneath his feet, his screams lost to the laughing darkness.
•○🌑○•
Lucien shot up in his bed, his chest heaving as his eyes darted around, looking for his wife and Azriel. Where were they?
He scrambled out of the bed, making a beeline to his door, across the hallway and to Y/n's door. He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his thoughts before knocking.
The door opened a few moments later, and Y/n blinked up at him blearily.
"Lucien?" He could barely make out the words as he pushed into her room, letting her close the door behind him as he searched around every corner of her room.
By the time he was done, she seemed more awake. And she was glaring at him.
"May I ask what is going on?" She folded her arms across her chest, and that was when Lucien noticed what she was wearing.
A skimpy little nightgown hung from her frame, barely reaching to the middle of her thighs. The neckline plunged nearly too deep, and the whole thing was held up by dainty little straps.
Lucien realised he was practically gaping at her, so he shut his mouth with an audible click.
"Where– where is Azriel?"
Y/n blinked. "What? Why would he be here?"
"He was with you. He was kissing you. You had kids, but they were supposed to be mine. You are mine. You are my wife, no one else's."
So lost in his ranting, Lucien didn't notice that he was practically chest to chest with Y/n now.
Y/n simply stared up at him in confusion, and Lucien slowly realised that he had been dreaming.
"What are you talking about?"
He sighed. "Sorry. It was a nightmare."
Y/n started grinning softly. "About me being Azriel's wife? Why would you have a nightmare about that? Wouldn't it be a happy thing? You should be happy for me."
Lucien growled low in his throat, and Y/n's smile faded as she realised that he wasn't in the interested in jesting at that moment.
"You are mine." He grabbed her jaw, tilting her head back, and her hands unravelled from her chest.
"Lucien..."
But he wasn't in a mood to talk as he stared at her beautiful lips.
And then he did what he would never have done unless he was drunk. Wasted. There were consequences to think about.
But in that moment, as he watched her lips part, he didn't care for consequences.
"I love you." He mumbled.
Right before he crashed his lips into hers.
•○🌑○•
Part 6
General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @lizziesfirstwife
#acotar#Lucien x reader#Acotar fanfic#mating bond#a court of thorns and roses#Lucien fluff#acotar fandom#acotar series#fluff#Lucien fic#sarah j maas#acotar headcanon#Acotar writing#acotar fluff#acotar x reader#reader insert#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#pro lucien vanserra#lucien#Cassian sister#Lucienweek2023#Lucien week#Lucien fanfic
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I'm out of my head, of my heart and my mind
Description: I wrote some tamsand and SOMEONE(YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) bullied me into posting it so please accept this brainrot. Warnings for canon stuff that happened utm but it's not elaborated on.
Rhysand never liked Lucien.
The seventh son of the Lady of Autumn. Born during a time of delicate peace between courts. Overshadowed by the siblings that towered over him. Unremarkable and of no use save for the snort Rhysand smothered the day when the child was presented as Beron’s at the high lords’ meeting.
One look at the boy could tell anyone otherwise.
It was a much needed source of amusement amongst the boredom, the gathering was completely devoid of any of value. Nothing justified him being there whatsoever.
Tamlin was absent from that day’s meeting.
Years would pass and Rhysand would forget about the runt, spending his time on more important matters. Sicing Cassian onto Illyrian rebellions, wielding Azrial to send a message. Things that needed to be attended to.
Rhysand would be abruptly reminded of the brat when the princeling made himself the center Prythian’s attention. He caused quite the stir when he was caught in the arms of some faerie lover, exiled from Autumn, and chased down by the three that held him down.
That little fox had scurried off to Spring court, and two out of those three siblings were reduced to nothing but to bloody piles of gore.
The report from Azriel described it as if the two brothers were mauled and gnawed on by some sort of dangerous, wild fae. He suggested scouting out the Spring court to assure that there were no monsters from the Prison that escaped. Rhysand declined.
Rhysand knew better.
Soon, news would reach him that Tamlin made Lucien emissary.
Seemed that Spring’s high lord took a liking to the fox. A fondness. A favorite new pet, no doubt.
Tamlin had always liked to take in and care for wounded animals.
Shortly after the news reached Rhysand, Tamlin appeared at the next High Lord’s meeting with him in tow. Instead of taking his rightful and appropriate place sitting behind his Lord, standing politely and silently, the fox pulled up a chair next to him. Right at the table. Like him and the Lord were equals. Tamlin didn’t bat an eye.
Every meeting for the next couple centuries to come would start with that, but progressively became more agonizing as time went by.
A shared look here and there. A knowing smirk tossed to one another. A quick roll of the eyes when another High Lord spat out utter nonsense and gibberish. Quick glances that held deep meanings. Kicking each other under the table to keep one from talking and inciting a political incident.
Rhysand would glare and glare, but no looks from those viridescent eyes ever came his way.
That brat would take and take his Lord’s attention and hoard it like the greedy little fox he was.
Then came Hybern’s General.
Her.
Rhysand was there when Lucien would become the center of Prythian’s focus for a second time. He regarded as she carved his face, observed as she scooped out his eye with her long, sharp fingernails.
He didn’t need to fake a smile.
Only a few weeks would pass until every High Lord received an invitation. A ball. The Spring Court was encouraged to wear masks in solidarity with its disfigured emissary.
Rhysand should have seen what was coming. He knew that she wanted Tamlin, he knew there was something wrong with the drinks, but it was too late to do anything about it.
A blight soon manifested herself across the land Prythian. A curse inflicted. Deals struck.
For Tamlin, fifty years to bed a mortal woman and make her fall for him. For Rhysand, fifty years spent leashed to her, to be hers until her chosen obsession ultimately failed and took his mantle as her trophy.
Rhysand agreed to his deal voluntarily. Tamlin finally looked him in the eye when he did so; piecing and damning. So much emotion.
…
Rhysand hated her.
He abhorred her when he awoke to her face first thing in the morning and despised her when she was the last thing he saw before sleep took him.
He hated sitting next to her while she was poised on her throne. He hated when she was on top of him. He hated when she was under him. He hated her marks that she carved into his back. Like lashings from a whip.
He hated her sharp fingernails.
He hated himself for wishing that the claws of someone else were the one leaving the scars in the heat of passion.
He hated that the only way he could get through the night as the years dragged on was to imagine that it was someone else when she defiled. Someone he loathed.
Loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and love–
Forty-nine passed before something changed. A mortal woman. Rhysand saw her at Calanmai. He had been permitted to go under the guise of surveillance. He told himself that same reason every year that he found himself lining up next to the cave for the sacred rite. He was never chosen.
He scared off the mortal’s tormentors, and offered his hand. He saw her fear. Her thoughts raced almost as fast as her loud heartbeat. It felt good.
He left her that night.
He’d leave a few gifts here and there as the deadline drew near. A head. A faerie wingless. Something that would make Tamlin think about him.
He paid a visit. Her mind was like wet sand in his hands for him to play with, so brittle and fragile. He made Tamlin kneel for him. He made Lucien watch. It was supposed to feel good.
Tamlin brought himself to his knees for a mortal woman. To save his court. To save his Lucien. It wasn’t for Rhysand.
He didn’t tell Her the mortal woman’s true name. They took another and tortured her to death. Rhysand replaced her in his mind with a fox.
The deadline came and passed. Tamlin joined him under the mountain. He didn’t look at Rhysand. It was just as infuriating as those meetings from the past.
Then the mortal came.
She declared her love to Tamlin and She indulged the woman with three trials and a poem to answer. She was not creative, she probably gave her the poem to infuriate her obsession. He loved intricate poems and wordplay, always did, and that poem was mind-numbingly simple and easy.
The mortal couldn’t figure it out for three months, but Rhysand figured it out the moment those words finished leaving Her mouth. He knew and understood its meaning with crystal clarity. He wanted to laugh, cry, and rage at that.
Lucien was lashed and mutilated for helping the mortal.
Lucien was endangered during one of the trials.
Rhysand didn’t need to fake a smile.
Tamlin wouldn’t respond to him. No reaction. Nothing. Just a face of stone with a far away look in his eyes. The green muted and dulled. It was enraging.
Rhysand wanted something. Rage, sadness, repulsion, disgust. Anything.
So he latched onto that mortal. Dolled her up in paint and glorified ribbons, and paraded her around like a new toy. The faerie wine he forced her to consume took away any memory of it from her, but Rhysand never drank enough to forget. He didn’t want to forget how the rage burned in Tamlin’s eyes.
The dangerous, wild beast who mauled and maimed chained down with a heart of stone.
Rhysand caught him and the mortal together. He kissed her reverently. She reached his pants. He felt one of his teeth crack under the grit of his jaw.
He interrupted. Replaced Tamlin's spot.
Her lips tasted like his.
The final trial came and passed. Tamlin was stabbed in the heart by an act of love. An act of freeing him. Poetic.
They were all free. The mortal was dead.
Rhysand didn’t want to keep looking at Tamlin’s face. The agony was so potent that it seeped into all of the cracks in his walls.
He made them all bring her back. For him.
He saw her the following day.
Mate.
The following few years were crowded, but Rhysand didn’t commit them to memory. Everything turned out in his favor. The 'Band of Exiles' made Rhysand snort just like he did long ago, not bothering to cover it up. Little fox scurried off again somewhere else. Rhysand had gotten his mate. He had gotten his power. His dominance stayed intact. He had it all.
Everything.
Except he was haunted.
Green eyes. Everywhere. Out the corner of his eye. Rhysand could read minds but nothing compared to how they read his soul; Condemning and all-knowing. They controlled him.
The Solstice was a breaking point. He had to get rid of them, those eyes. He had to tear out the problem by the roots. Be rid of the beast that held that much power over him. That monster.
He couldn’t do it himself. He told Tamlin to rid the world of his existence. To Die. It was the only way to be free. It had to. Please.
I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you
I have to kill you. It’s the only way to get you out of my mind and heart.
I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you
Please just die already let me be free
I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you
Please.
Please.
Please.
Please.
I love you.
#tamsand#maybe tamcien? who knows?#sorry this aint feyre friendly so just a heads up#simplified summary: Rhysand said “if i can't have you nobody can” unironically#canon utm events just so you know#Tamlin#rhysand
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SJM Romance Week
Day Three
Wedding
AN: has sex/adult language. I don’t typically post sexually explicit fanfic but how can there be a fae if no frenzy.
Hope you enjoy!
Lucien Vanserra had always prided himself on his strength and control, but in the presence of Elain Archeron, all semblance of restraint melted away like wax in a flame. She was his weakness, his greatest temptation, and he found himself utterly powerless to resist her allure.
As Elain slowly squeezed his cock, a wave of pleasure washed over him, and he could feel himself hardening beneath her small hand despite having thoroughly satisfied her moments before. Her screams of ecstasy still echoed in his ears, a testament to the intensity of their passion.
He watched, mesmerized, as she positioned herself on top of him, her movements slow and deliberate as she slid down his length, taking him deep inside her with each languid rock of her hips. The sight of her impaled on him, her body moving with a fluid grace that left her slickness coating him entirely, stirred something primal within him.
When she finally voiced her desire to accept the bond, Lucien's heart skipped a beat, his gaze locking with hers in a mixture of surprise and anticipation.
"I knew you wanted something," he murmured, his voice laced with lazy amusement as he kneaded her thigh.
Elain's gasp was music to his ears as she arched her back, urging him deeper inside her. "It's time, Lucien," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Or should I say, my lord?"
Lucien's growl of approval rumbled through the room, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I want to accept it, my lord," Elain continued, her voice filled with conviction. "I want this forever. I want you forever, my lord."
Despite his reservations, Lucien couldn't deny the overwhelming desire that surged within him at her words. "They don't know that you and I have... moved past our differences," he warned, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin.
"I don't care, my lord," Elain replied without hesitation, her movements growing more urgent as she sought to drive him to the edge.
“Frenzy. We can’t frenzy when you’re bound to return in two days,” Lucien reminded her, his voice tinged with regret.
Elain paused, her expression shifting from urgency to disappointment. “We can frenzy in two days, my lord,” she countered, though a hint of longing lingered in her eyes.
Lucien couldn't help but laugh at Elain's persistence, marveling at her ability to turn even the most serious of conversations into something playful and lighthearted. “I need a week. You need a month,” he joked, though his heart ached with the desire to be with her always.
But Elain paid his jest no mind, her focus solely on the intoxicating pleasure they shared. She continued to rock against him, her movements driving him to the brink of ecstasy. "Entirely your fault you feel so good," she teased, her voice husky with desire.
Lucien's desire burned like wildfire, consuming every thought as he surrendered to the primal urge coursing through him. With a low growl of need, he surged forward, his movements fueled by a hunger that only she could satisfy. His hands roamed her body with a desperate longing, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.
Elain's response was equally fervent, her gasps and moans echoing in the room as she arched against him, her nails digging into his skin in a deliciously painful grip. Their bodies moved together in a frantic dance, each movement driving them closer to the edge of ecstasy.
As they finally reached the peak of their passion, their cries mingled in the air, a symphony of pleasure that filled the room with its intensity. In that moment of pure abandon, there was only the two of them, lost in the ecstasy of their union.
"I love you, Elain," Lucien whispered, his voice husky with emotion as he held her close, their bodies still entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
"I love you too, Lucien," Elain murmured, her voice soft and filled with tenderness as she nestled against him, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his chest. And in that moment, as they sat together in the quiet intimacy of their shared love, the uncertainty melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and belonging.
"There is one more thing I need to do tomorrow before you can accept it," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Elain looked up at him, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Are we really doing this?" she asked, her smile playful yet filled with adoration.
Lucien chuckled softly, his heart swelling with love for her. "It was your idea," he replied, his tone gentle yet resolute. "Tomorrow," he agreed, a smile tugging at his lips. "We'll sort things out tomorrow."
As they settled back down together, Elain nestled into his embrace, her head resting against his chest. Lucien wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they drifted off to sleep, the warmth of their love enveloping them in a cocoon of comfort and contentment. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the female lying beside him, for the love they shared and the adventures that awaited them.
The next morning, Lucien awoke to find Elain already up and about, the tantalizing scent of bacon filling the air. With a smile, he made his way to the kitchen, where Elain greeted him with a bright smile and a plate of breakfast.
"I made you breakfast," she said brightly, her eyes shining with affection as she held out the plate to him.
“And my eating it means that you accept,” Lucien said cautiously, his brow furrowing with uncertainty.
“Isn't that the one more thing you need to do before I accept it?” Elain asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.
Lucien chuckled softly and tapped her nose. “No,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
He glanced down at the plate and chuckled again. “You made everything into hearts,” he observed, a fond smile playing on his lips.
“Worked extra … heart to make those,” grumbled Elain playfully.
Lucien pulled her into a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t ask Mor to take you away somewhere, please. I promise I’m not resisting. There is just one more thing I want to do before you accept it, and it’s important to me.”
"Tell me?" Elain asked, settling down at the table as Lucien grabbed some bread and cheese.
Lucien joined her, taking a moment to savor the warmth of her presence. "Frenzy for starters," he said with a playful grin. "Though I suppose we could come up with an idea that keeps you and me here until it... surpasses."
Elain regarded him with amusement, a playful glint in her eyes. "You are absolutely miserable, hopelessly sick, and I sought pity on your poor, miserable soul to tend to you."
Lucien responded with a smirk, feigning a cough in response to her words. "How very kind of you," he remarked, his tone laced with playful sarcasm.
Elain chuckled, her smile widening. "Told you you were sick. Can't leave the bed, that's how sick you are, right?"
Lucien's smirk deepened. "But I'll be taking your temperature quite often," he teased.
Elain rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of laughter in her voice. "Lucien!"
With a thoughtful expression, Lucien nibbled on his bread. "That would work. You are tending to my poor, miserable, sick self, and I am on the brink of my death that you would need to stay here."
Elain nodded, determination shining in her eyes. "That settles it. They already know that you are."
Lucien snorted with laughter. "You've really thought this through," he said, admiration lacing his words. "Anything else, Lady Elain?"
Elain's expression turned solemn as she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before speaking. "Well, there is one more condition," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I, Elain Archeron, hereby present a bargain to Lucien Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra is banned from the kitchen now until he accepts and eats any and all food I offer him."
Her words hung in the air, carrying with them a weight of determination and resolve.
Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You've really thought this through," he said again, this time with awe. "I accept your bargain."
Elain beamed at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She crawled into his lap, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the promise of lazy lovemaking lingering in the air.
But he pulled away gently, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I need to save something for you for frenzy," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
As soon as the words left his lips, Lucien scented her arousal, and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He kissed her with fervor, his desire mounting as he pressed her down onto his aching cock. The thought of her being his wife in mere hours fueled his passion, and Elain sensed it too, her movements becoming more urgent as she sought to satisfy their mutual craving.
With a growl of frustration, he finally pulled away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I need to leave, or else I won't get to do what I wanted," he said, his voice strained with desire. He tore himself away from her embrace, his body still burning with longing as he forced himself to leave her side.
With every step he took towards the door, Lucien could feel Elain's gaze burning into his back, her longing evident in the air between them. He clenched his fists, willing himself to maintain control as he fought against the overwhelming urge to return to her embrace.
As he reached the threshold of the room, he turned back to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. "I promise," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion, "we'll have all the time in the world for that once I'm done with what I need to do."
Elain's eyes softened, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I'll be waiting," she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation.
With one last longing look, Lucien tore himself away and left the house, his heart heavy with the weight of desire and anticipation. He knew that once he had completed his task, he would return to her, and they would finally be able to indulge in the passion that burned between them.
***
Elain busied herself in the kitchen, grateful for the distraction that preparing their meal provided. She knew Lucien would likely forgo the breakfast she had made him that morning, but she couldn't blame herself for trying.
She hadn't expected to blurt out her desire to officially bind herself to him last night during their lovemaking. But the way he had reacted, the way he had looked at her with awe and worship as she pleasured him, filled her heart with a sense of joy and contentment that she had never known before.
She had hoped for something more romantic, a surprise for him when he returned home from overseeing the rebuilding efforts. She had meticulously planned the menu based on his favorite dishes, each one a tribute to the stories he had shared from his childhood.
Despite the temptation to indulge him with just half a piece of bacon and watch him surrender himself to her desires, Elain had opted for a three-course meal. She remembered Feyre's casual reheating of soup for Rhys, Nesta's offering of a stale biscuit, and Cassian's agreement to a ceremony. Her own wedding planning with Graysen had been a disaster, and if she could avoid the whole ordeal, she would.
As she worked in the kitchen, Elain couldn't shake the feeling of longing that settled in her chest. They hadn't made love that morning, nor had there been a lunchtime tryst to tie her over until his return. She could only imagine that Lucien would deny her advances when he came home, especially since he had instructed her to dress up for his return from wherever he was.
The clock continued to tick on, each passing minute bringing Elain closer to the moment when she would be reunited with Lucien. Soon, she thought, soon they would be an officially mated pair, bound together in love and devotion. As she put the finishing touches on their meal, a sense of excitement and anticipation bubbled within her.
She dressed herself in a pretty dress, choosing something appropriate for the Spring Court. With a sense of preparation, she made sure to pack some ready-to-go meals, anticipating the frenzy that would likely follow the acceptance. Containers filled with cut-up meat and cheese filled the icebox, ready for them to grab during moments of hunger between their instinctual urges.
As she covered her face with her hands, doubts began to creep in. Had she been too insatiable with him already? Would their newfound union only intensify their desires, making it impossible for them to live apart? Even after Lucien "recovered from his sickness," what would become of them then? The weight of uncertainty settled heavily on her shoulders, and she couldn't help but wonder if her decision had been a terrible mistake.
But then, as the clock dinged and she caught the familiar scent of Lucien at the door, all doubts faded away. With a rush of excitement, she hurried to greet him, her heart pounding with anticipation as she saw his kind, scarred face smiling back at her.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice warm with affection.
With all her doubts cast aside, Elain met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes," she replied, her voice filled with conviction.
Her heart skipped a beat when he smiled wider and took her hand in his, his touch sending shivers down her spine.
"I would ask you how your day was, but—" Lucien began.
"I would ask you why you aren't eating something I made you," Elain interrupted with a playful smile.
Lucien chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned in to kiss her hand gently before leading her towards one of her favorite meadows in the Spring Court. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and as twilight descended, the bioluminescent glands of the flora began to emit a soft, ethereal glow, casting the meadow in a magical light.
As they walked, memories flooded Elain's mind of the first time Lucien had brought her here, the day after Calanmai. It was then that they had finally given in to their desires, reigniting the magic within the dying court and bringing hope for its revival.
"If you wanted to eat here," Elain said with a soft smile, "I could have made us a picnic."
Lucien shook his head, a mysterious glint in his eyes as he reached into his pocket and procured a letter, her father's seal adorning the envelope.
Elain's heart swelled with emotion as she read the words of wisdom from her father, each sentence a tender reminder of his love and guidance. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she absorbed every word, feeling her father's presence in every line of his familiar script. It was as if he was there with her, offering his support and encouragement for the journey ahead.
When she finally set the letter down, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Lucien on one knee before her, a dazzling engagement ring held out in his hand—a jeweled lotus, a symbol of their love and the beauty that had blossomed between them.
"Elain Archeron," Lucien began, his voice filled with emotion as he looked up at her with adoration shining in his eyes. "From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I was meant to be yours. And from the first moment I saw the depth of your soul, I knew that I was yours forever. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"
Elain's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into his eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love for her. She felt tears of joy prickle at the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "We're mates, Lucien."
"Yes, as fae," Lucien replied, his smile soft and tender. "But our love transcends our fae nature. I want the whole world to know that you are mine and I am yours, in ways that even humans can understand. I want to stand before everyone we know and declare my love for you, to make a vow that will bind us together for eternity."
Tears streamed down Elain's cheeks as she reached out to cup Lucien's face in her hands, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and the sincerity in his words. "Yes, Lucien," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "A thousand times yes."
Tears of joy continued to cascade as Lucien slipped the ring onto her finger, the sparkling diamond catching the light and shimmering with every movement. She admired it with awe, feeling the weight of its significance settle on her soul.
"Lucien," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... do you want a ceremony?"
His response was filled with nothing but love and understanding. "I want whatever you want, Elain," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "We can tell your human friends we eloped and throw a grand reception, or we can wait and have a disgustingly huge ceremony, or we can simply go down to the priestess to confirm our bond and let people figure it out for themselves. Whatever makes you happy, that's what I want."
Elain bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion. Perching herself on his lap, she gazed into his eyes with all the love in her heart. "I already told you," she said with a playful smile. "There's a meal waiting for you that I want to eat with you, and I want to finish everything before you thank me in a way only a mated male can."
Lucien grinned mischievously. "Finish everything?" he teased. "Are you going to be able to control yourself?"
Elain let out a whimper, her cheeks flushing as desire coursed through her veins. She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I make no promises."
***
Lucien's heart raced as he felt her warm breath against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. With a swift motion, he winnowed them back to the house, carrying her effortlessly across the threshold. As they entered, he beheld the romantic table setting that Elain had prepared, a smile spreading across his face at the sight.
He took a seat, anticipation building as Elain approached with the first course—a sourdough bowl filled with lobster bisque. Lucien's eyes widened in surprise as he took a spoonful, the familiar taste instantly flooding his senses.
“You told me that Jesminda made this often for you,” Elain began, her voice soft with emotion. “Took me a while, but her sister shared her recipe. I don’t want to replace her memory, but—”
“It tastes just like hers,” Lucien interrupted, his eyes brimming with tears of gratitude.
Elain swallowed, relieved that she hadn't overstepped. She felt a surge of warmth as Lucien took her hand and squeezed it tenderly. “Thank you. I thought I’d never have it again, but thank you.”
As they savored the last spoonfuls of the lobster bisque, the ambiance seemed to hum with warmth and affection. Elain's heart swelled with joy at the sight of Lucien's contented smile, knowing that she had succeeded in bringing him a moment of happiness.
With a graceful flourish, Elain cleared away the empty bowls and returned with the next course—a mini beef wellington accompanied by sautéed green beans. The aroma of savory herbs and spices filled the air, wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.
Lucien's eyes lit up with delight as he took in the sight of the perfectly cooked dish before him. "Beef wellington," he murmured, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "This reminds me of cozy evenings by the fire, with the leaves turning golden outside."
Elain smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for the man sitting across from her. "I wanted to capture that feeling," she confessed, her gaze meeting his. "To create a moment that we could cherish together, just like those cozy evenings you described."
Their fingers intertwined across the table, a silent exchange of love and gratitude passing between them. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their shared affection, they felt as though time stood still, allowing them to savor each other's company and the simple pleasures of a homemade meal made with love.
As the evening wore on and they finished the last bites of the savory beef wellington, the atmosphere between them seemed to crackle with anticipation. Elain's heart fluttered with nervous excitement as she prepared to unveil the final course—a decadent dessert that she had been saving for this special moment.
Moments later, Elain returned to the dining room, a platter in hand, but to Lucien's surprise, she was completely naked, save for a seductive smile playing on her lips. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, his heart racing with desire and adoration.
Elain sauntered towards him with slow, deliberate steps, the platter held out before her like a tantalizing offering. On it lay a decadent array of strawberries with a small bowl of warmed chocolate, each one a tempting invitation to indulge in the pleasures of the senses.
Lucien's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her, his eyes tracing the curves of her body with hungry appreciation. The air between them crackled with tension as she approached, a coy smile playing on her lips as she held out a strawberry dipped in chocolate.
"Indulge me," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper as she offered him the sweet treat. "Let me feed you."
With a longing gaze, Lucien accepted the offering, his lips brushing against her fingers as he took a bite. A drop of chocolate dripped onto Elain's bare skin, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. With a playful glint in his eyes, Lucien leaned forward, capturing the chocolate with his tongue as he traced a path along her skin.
A shiver of pleasure ran through Elain at the sensation, her breath catching in her throat as he continued to lavish her with kisses, each one filled with a tender reverence that spoke of his love and desire for her.
“You need to finish the meal, my lord,” Elain said in between gasps.
With a teasing glint in his eyes, Lucien accepted a new strawberry from her fingers, his lips parting just enough to capture the juicy fruit. Elain's heart skipped a beat at the sight, her desire for him growing with each passing moment. As he savored the sweet taste, chocolate dripped down his chin, and without hesitation, she leaned in to capture the tempting morsel with her tongue, relishing the intimate exchange between them.
“Where does my beautiful mate want me to thank her first?” Lucien said, his voice husky with desire as he felt her tongue trace a path from his chin to his neck.
“Outside,” she said against his ear, her words sending a shiver down his spine. “Just like the first time.”
With a silent nod, Lucien lifted her into his arms, carrying her outside into the cool night air. As they gazed up at the twinkling stars above, Elain's fingers deftly worked at the fastenings of his clothing, anticipation building with each passing moment. The glow of the moon cast an ethereal light on his golden skin as she stripped him bare under the star-flecked sky.
Reaching for him, her touch sent shivers down his spine as her tongue traced the contours of his length. Her lips trailed down, savoring every inch of him with tantalizing strokes. Lucien's breath hitched in his throat, his desire mounting with each caress. But before she could take him fully into her mouth, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“That’s not the way I want to thank you, my love,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with desire.
She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I wasn’t finished yet, my lord,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns along his skin.
Lucien's breath grew shallow as he watched his cock disappear into Elain’s mouth. He was powerless, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him as she took him deeper, her moans vibrating against his cock. His fingers tangled in her hair, a silent plea for her to continue, to take him to the heights of ecstasy he knew only she could reach. With each movement, she squeezed and twisted the base, eliciting a symphony of pleasure that echoed in his mind. The sensation of her throat tightening around his tip sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, driving him ever closer to the edge of bliss.
She looked up at him, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes as she gagged, saliva dribbling from her lips. Her gaze was intense, filled with a mix of desire and devotion that stirred something deep within him. In that moment, he realized just how much he loved her, how much he needed her, and how grateful he was to have her as his mate. With a ragged breath, he surrendered to the pleasure, his release flooding over him in waves of pure ecstasy as Elain continued to worship him with her mouth.
In that moment, as their bodies merged in a dance of passion under the moonlit sky, he knew that in Elain’s arms, he had found his true home.
***
"Nesta," Feyre cautioned as they surveyed the newly revitalized Spring Court. "I don't think this is a good idea."
Nesta adjusted the basket on her arm with a sigh. "Look, I am trying, okay? It’s been two weeks, close to three weeks, since Lucien has been sick, and I'm sure Elain is sick and tired of having to play nurse."
Feyre sighed, her expression skeptical. "Let’s make it quick before Rhys and Tamlin catch on that we're here."
Nesta knocked on the door. Silence. She knocked again, but there was still no response.
"Are they out?" Nesta asked, turning to Feyre.
"They shouldn’t be," Feyre replied, her brow furrowed as she jiggled the doorknob. “Elain said that he’s been sick to the point that he can’t leave the bed.”
To their surprise, the door swung open easily.
"Then why is the door unlocked?" Nesta questioned, her concern growing.
Feyre's brow furrowed deeper as she pushed the door open cautiously. "I don't know, but we should be careful."
As they stepped inside, the air seemed charged with an unusual energy. The sound of soft murmurs reached their ears, and Nesta exchanged a puzzled glance with Feyre.
“It just smells of sex in here,” Nesta frowned. “Like it stained the house.”
“Part of his sickness maybe? She made it seem like he was dying, after all,” Feyre mused, her expression troubled.
Before they could contemplate further, Nesta and Feyre cautiously made their way through the house, their senses heightened with apprehension. They followed the soft murmurs, the tension in the air thickening with each step, until they reached the ajar bedroom door.
Nesta reached out and pushed it open slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. As they stepped inside, the sight that greeted them left them both speechless.
Nesta turned from Feyre, her eyes widening in shock. "Oh."
Both sisters paled at the unexpected scene unfolding before them. Elain hung suspended upside down, her ankles crossed as Lucien held her effortlessly, his expression a mix of concentration and determination as he adjusted her position, grunting about how tight she was. Meanwhile, Elain's face was a picture of pure bliss, completely lost in the moment and unaware of their presence.
They exchanged a stunned glance, unsure of what to do or say in such a situation. Nesta cleared her throat awkwardly, but neither of them made a move to interrupt the intimate moment unfolding before their eyes.
Elain's voice broke through the silence, her words filled with a mixture of desperation and pleasure as she uttered curses and pleaded with Lucien not to stop.
A stunned silence enveloped them as they took in the surreal sight before quickly retreating, their minds reeling with confusion and disbelief.
Without a word, the sisters quickly turned around and dropped the basket on the front door.
"Uh," Nesta stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Well."
"Elain is going to have to tell us how to do that," Feyre muttered, equally flustered as they made a hasty exit.
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