#give elain a spear
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Spear?
CC3 spoilers
This is just a manifesting post and more connections I found from cc3 🫡
In my wild hunt post I talked about narben being a spear for... reasons.
I think Gwydion and Truth-Teller are inspired by King Arthur's weapons. In myths it is talked about how he has a sword, a knife and a spear...
Other weapons have been associated with Arthur. Welsh tradition also knew of a dagger named Carnwennan and a spear named Rhongomyniad that belonged to him. Carnwennan ("little white-hilt") first appears in Culhwch and Olwen, where Arthur uses it to slice the witch Orddu in half. Rhongomyniad ("spear" + "striker, slayer") is also mentioned in Culhwch, although only in passing; it appears as simply Ron ("spear") in Geoffrey's Historia. Geoffrey also names Arthur's shield as Pridwen; in Culhwch, however, Prydwen ("fair face") is the name of Arthur's ship while his shield is named Wynebgwrthucher ("face of evening").
So other than excalibur Arthur has a dagger and a spear.
To me it looks like
Excalibur= Gwydion
Carnwennan= Truth-Teller
Rhongomyniad= Narben
So why? Lemme explain.
With Excalibur it is about who is worthy to pull it out of the stone.
Excalibur is the mythical sword of King Arthur that may possess magical powers or be associated with the rightful sovereignty of Britain. Traditionally, the sword in the stone that is the proof of Arthur's lineage and the sword given him by a Lady of the Lake are not the same weapon, even as in some versions of the legend both of them share the name of Excalibur.
Romance tradition elaborates on how Arthur came into possession of Excalibur. In Robert de Boron's c. 1200 French poem Merlin, the first known tale to mention the "sword in the stone" motif, Arthur obtained the British throne by pulling a sword from an anvil sitting atop a stone that appeared in a churchyard on Christmas Eve.[18] In this account, as foretold by Merlin, the act could not be performed except by "the true king", meaning the divinely appointed king or true heir of Uther Pendragon. (As Thomas Malory related in his English-language Arthurian compilation, the 15th-century Le Morte d'Arthur, "whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of all England."[19][d])
And we have Gwydion/Starsword
That your son, not you, retrieved the Starsword from the Cave of Princes in Avallen’s dark heart. That your son, not you, stood among the long-dead Starborn Princes asleep in their sarcophagi and was deemed worthy to pull the sword from its sheath. How many times did you try to draw the sword when you were young? How much research did you do in this very study to find ways to wield it without being chosen? (Hoeab)
So it matches even though at the end it is Bryce who can access the real power of the sword not Ruhn bc it is sarah and we have the females as a main character.
And now the dagger—Carnwennan and Truth-Teller.
In myths the dagger is described like this.
Carnwennan, or Carnwenhau ("Little White Hilt"), was the dagger of King Arthur in the Welsh Arthurian legends
In Culhwch and Olwen, Arthur names it as one of the few things in the world which he will not give to Culhwch. Later, he uses it to slay the witch Orddu, the daughter of the witch Orwen, by slicing her in half.[1] In the Welsh Triads, Carnwennan is listed alongside Arthur's spear Rhongomyniad and Arthur's sword Caledfwlch as sacred weapons given to him by God: "the sacred weapons that God had given him: Rhongomiant his spear, Caledfwlch a sword, and Carnwennan his dagger" (Bromwich's translation).[2]
The fact that Arthur would not give the weapons to Culhwch when we know Fionn didn't give the Gwydion and TT to Theia? Kinda similar.
My father had never shown himself to be giving—long had he kept Gwydion and never once offered it to my mother. The dagger that had belonged to his dear friend, slain during the war, hung at his side, unused. But not for long.
We learned in cc2 that Gwydion and TT are twin blades.(I went into detail about this and how it connects to elriel in several posts > light and dark, sing me, alpha and omega)
The male drew it, and Bryce flinched. Flinched, but—“What the fuck?” The knife could have been the twin of the Starsword: black hilted and bladed. It was its twin. The Starsword began to hum within its sheath, glittering white light leaking from where leather met the dark hilt. The dagger—.The male dropped the dagger to the plush carpet. All of them retreated as it flared with dark light, as if in answer. Alpha and Omega. “Gwydion,” the dark-haired female whispered, indicating the Starsword.(hosab)
And in cc3 we learn that when you use Truth-Teller...there are shadows.
Bryce threw her power into the Starsword, light ripping through the black blade, willing it to tear this fucking monster apart—
She willed it into Truth-Teller, and shadows flowed—
Seems...weird that Truth-teller has "shadow powers" and in acowar we have Elain literally stepping out of a shadow. And we never learned the reason why???
But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had.
Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”
So how these connect to Arthur's dagger? (Just gonna add here that @riddlecrux told me about this before so credit goes to her 🫡)
In addition to his other magical items, Arthur had the invisibility granting Carnwennan. The dagger was providing a kind of presence concealment to Arthur or to its wielder. In European folklore, invisibility-granting items are rather prevalent. These are often recognized as caps or invisibility cloaks. The invisibility attribute of Carnwennan was probably the main reason Arthur named his dagger among the things he could never give up for any reason:
Invisibility? Shadows? @silverlinedeyes made a post before how elain could get a cloak made of void? And we know with Gwydion and TT you can make a portal to nowhere—the void.
“The Starsword is Made, as you called it.” He waved an idle hand, sparks at his fingertips. “The knife can Unmake things. Made and Unmade. Matter and antimatter. With the right influx of power—a command from the one destined to wield them—they can be merged. And they can create a place where no life, no light exists. A place that is nothing. Nowhere.”
It had been a gamble. But she’d seen what the Starsword and Truth-Teller had done to Polaris. They had created a void that had sucked the Asteri in—the only sort of prison that might destroy a being of light. The only force in the universe that ate light, so strong no light could ever escape it. A portal to nowhere.
To a black hole.
Wasn’t that the unholy power that Apollion possessed? The power of the Void. The antithesis of light.
So maybe we are gonna see elain and the void connected?
Also more about the dagger in Arthurian legends:
Carnwennan, or Carnwenhau, meaning "white hilt" was the dagger belonging to the great King Arthur. It is attributed with the magical power to shroud its user in shadow. This dagger, it is said, was one of three sacred weapons given to King Arthur by God. Arthur names it as one of the few things in the world which he would not give to his cousin Culhwch. King Arthur used this very dagger it to slay the witch Orddu ,daughter of Orwen. by slicing her in half. It is also possible that this is the dagger he once used to kill a giant.
So there is that.
And lastly we have the spear—Rhongomyniad.
There is not much we can use from the myths because the only things we have are its name and it was given to Arthur by god.
Rhongomyniad, or Rhongomiant (variously translated as "Slaying Spear," "Cutting Spear" or "Striking Spear"), was the spear of King Arthur in the Welsh Arthurian legends. Unlike Arthur’s two other weapons, his sword Caledfwlch and his dagger Carnwennan, Rhongomyniad has no apparent magical powers.
In the Historia Regum Britanniae, Geoffrey of Monmouth calls Arthur's lance Ron,[2] presumably an abbreviation of the original Welsh name. Layamon also calls it this in his Brut. Geoffrey states that Arthur carried this lance with him at the Battle of Mount Badon. Layamon states in a passage (without naming the weapon) that Arthur's spear was forged in Carmarthen by a smith called Griffin. He also adds that it formerly belonged to Uther Pendragon.
The wiki says it has no magical power but...if sarah took inspo from Excalibur for Gwydion and the dagger for TT...I wouldn't put it past her to use the spear as an inspo for Narben... especially with her love for 3s.
Also like the spear we dont have much to go on for Narben either. We have so little information.
“Amarantha destroyed one,” Amren said. Cassian started. “I never heard that.” Amren amended, “Rumor claimed she dumped one into the sea. It would not come to Amarantha’s hand, nor the hands of any of her commanders, and rather than let the King of Hybern attain it, she disposed of it.” Azriel asked, “Which sword?” “Narben.” (Acosf)
"Narben was even older than Gwydion,” Rhys said. “Where the hell was it?” (Acosf)
Narben’s powers had not been the holy, savior’s light of Gwydion, but ones far darker. (Acosf)
Rhys studied her blade. “Narben is a death-sword. It’s lost, possibly destroyed, but stories say it can slay even monsters like Lanthys.” (Acosf)
So that's all we know.
Another point...Fionn connection.
In myths there is a HUGE part about Fionn using a spear to defeat a giant.
Also known as the Spear of Fiacha (or Fiacail), Birgha was an enchanted, venomous spear. The warrior Fiacha, a follower of Cumal (a leader of the Fianna), gave the spear to Cumal’s son Fionn mac Cumhail so that he might defeat Aillén, an evil creature/former member of the Tuath Dé Danann who resided, three-hundred-and-sixty-four days a year, in the Otherworld. Each and every Samhain the monster—nicknamed “the burner”—would wreak havoc on the royal residence of Tara (also: Teamhair) with his fire-breath after lulling its defenders to sleep with enchanted music. Specifically, Aillén plays—or weaponizes, I should say—the suantraí (lullaby) strain of ancient Irish music, which is frequently deployed by gods, druids, and other musicians in the myths in order to incapacitate opponents. That’s where Birgha comes into play. In Lady Gregory’s version of events, Fiacha teaches Fionn how to unlock the power of the spear, instructing his pupil as follows: “When you will hear the music of the Sidhe, let you strip the covering off the head of the spear and put it to your forehead, and the power of the spear will not let sleep come upon you.”
Just saying...with all of a new character singing...having some effects on others...IDK. WEIRD. 🫣
Another point is Four treasures of Tuatha de danaan. ( @offtorivendell made a post about them before )
Dagda's Cauldron
pretty self explanatory...cauldron.
Claiomh Solais (the sword of light)
Gwydion.
The sword may be rendered in English as the "Sword of Light", or "Shining Sword".
The Sword of Light or Claidheamh Soluisis a trope object that appears in a number of Irish and Scottish Gaelic folktales. The "Quest for sword of light" formula is catalogued as motif H1337.
The Starsword sang with light, her power flowing into it. Activating it. And nothing had ever felt so right, so easy, as plunging the blade into the bony chest of the wounded Reaper. It arced, bellowing, black blood spurting from its withered lips. (Hosab)
Narben’s powers had not been the holy, savior’s light of Gwydion, but ones far darker.(acosf)
Lia Fail Stone
My whole wild hunt post is about this. You can read it there. Basically I think this is the inspo for the stone on top of Ramiel.
The Spear of Lugh
And here is the reason I think Narben might be a spear.
Lugh's spear (sleg), according to the text of The Four Jewels of the Tuatha Dé Danann, was said to be impossible to overcome.
Interesting that Amren said this about Narben in acosf:
“I don’t know, but she found it, and when it would not bend to her, she destroyed it. As she did all good things.” It was as much as Amren would say about that terrible time. “It was perhaps in our favor. Had the King of Hybern possessed Narben, I fear we would have lost the war.”
More info for Spear of Lugh.
In a full narrative version called [A]oidhe Chloinne Tuireann (The Fate of the Children of Tuireann),[51] from copies no earlier than the 17th century,[52] Lugh demands the spear named Ar-éadbair or Areadbhair (Early Modern Irish: Aꞃéadḃaiꞃ) which belonged to Pisear, king of Persia. Areadbhair's tip had to be kept immersed in a pot of water to keep it from igniting, a property similar to the Lúin of Celtchar. This spear is also called "Slaughterer"[53] in translation.
Narben is a death "sword"
Rhys studied her blade. “Narben is a death-sword. It’s lost, possibly destroyed, but stories say it can slay even monsters like Lanthys.” (Acosf)
Also the spear of Lugh is connected with lightning.
Lugh's projectile weapon, whether a dart or missile, was envisioned to be symbolic of lightning-weapon.
Also known as the Lightning Spear, or simply Lugh’s Spear, the Gae Assail was one of the Four Treasures or Jewels of the Tuatha Dé Danann
And to me it is interesting that Ramiel means "god has thundered" maybe there is a connection?
Lugh's sling rod, named "Lugh's Chain", was the rainbow and the Milky Way, according to popular writer Charles Squire.[57] Squire adds that Lugh's spear which needed no wielding was alive and thirsted so for blood that only by steeping its head in a sleeping-draught of pounded fresh poppy leaves could it be kept at rest. When a battle was near, it was drawn out; then it roared and struggled against its thongs, fire flashed from it, and it tore through the ranks of the enemy once slipped from the leash, never tired of slaying
So thanks for reading.
I NEED A SPEAR 😭😭
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eluzriel | E | essentially pwp but there's some espionage and getting together
There are secrets Elain's lovers have been keeping from the rest of the Night Court, but some truths Elain simply didn't disclose that come to light during her first intercontinental spy mission to Rask - such as reaching a decision about maintaining casual relationships separately, or perhaps committing to something bigger.
When both Azriel and Lucien are sent after Elain to ensure her safety, everything comes out in the open.
ao3 | chapters 4-6/16
For @polyacotarweek. Thank you @popjunkie42 and @climbthemountain2020 for betaing!!! <3
preview under cut (nsfw)
The taste of everything sweet and good in the world is dripping on his tongue, down his chin, filling his senses like a drug.
Lucien is lapping up Elain’s center, tongue broad and flat and careful to tease the edges of her folds in the way that drives her crazy, swirling and sucking at the bundle of nerves up top, before shooting down to spear into her fluttering heat — it’s a rhythm that has him palming himself through his trousers, smearing the precome beading at the tip of his cock against his undershorts shamelessly.
Let him get a wet spot.
Let him look like some untried youth.
He’d like to see anyone else weather any better when worshiping at the altar of Elain Archeron’s life-altering cunt.
Lucien moans into her when Elain drags her fingers down his scalp and then clenches his hair in her grasp, making mewling kitten noises as he winds her up and up and up. When she begins grinding against his face, using him as she draws closer to her peak, Lucien gives in to her every whim.
“F-fingers,” she gasps, pulling him up to her clit.
Sucking and laving at her clit like his life depends on it, Lucien doesn’t slow as he coats a finger in the mixture of her slick desire and his saliva.
He isn’t careless as he works it inside of her, isn’t as rough as she may beg for, because he knows she stills needs to get on stage once they’re done and a moment of lust-addled want for pain-edged pleasure will leave her aching in the worst of ways for the rest of the evening.
Lucien doesn’t take whatever opportunity Elain offers him — he provides for her what no other can.
The deepest level of understanding of not only her carnal needs, but of her overall health, care and happiness.
No, for his mate, Lucien gives her what she needs. He drags the calloused length of his finger up and down her entrance several times, feeling her clench and gasp, and only crooking further into that spongey, delicious heat when his finger is good and soaked from her.
“Gods, y-yes, yes! Lu—”
Lucien gropes upwards to clamp down on her mouth. Elain doesn’t hear his hiss of pain when she bites down with fae sharp teeth on that hand just as her orgasm crashes into her and she’s spasming, ass lifting off of the table entirely and thighs clamping around Lucien.
He doesn’t stop his mouth, doesn’t stop his finger, until he’s worked her through the powerful waves of her climax, until she’s coming down and heaving with the effort as her legs quake.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Lucien moans between placing sloppy kisses to her thighs. He doesn’t care that his mouth will be sticky with glitter from it.
He traces a path up her body, keeping one hand against her thigh, holding her pretty little outfit to the side of her dripping cunt. Keeping her entrance clear so Lucien won’t have to fumble to find it in a moment.
“That mouth of yours should be illegal,” Elain says between gulps of air, eyes glazed over. She grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him to her, kissing him and licking into his mouth to taste herself there.
When she lets him pull back, squirming her hips with clear intent, Lucien purrs, “Just for you, El.”
She bites her bottom lip salaciously as she smiles up at him, shivering at the nickname he uses his deepest register to say.
Mother above and demons below, he’s truly the luckiest male alive.
“C’mon,” she whines, pursing her lips into a seductive pout, “I need you to fill me up, Fox. Don’t leave me waiting.”
Lucien wastes no time meeting her demands, satisfied she’s good and ready and won’t feel any discomfort later on from a hasty entrance.
When he gets his cock out of his laces and sinks into her, it’s like ascending to another plane of existence.
Lucien’s good eye rolls back in his head while the metal one flutters and clicks. “Fuck, you are so tight,” he praises once he’s buried inside of her. He leans back to watch where they’re joined. Watches as he pulls out, a guttural groan emitting from low in his throat when she sucks him right back into her warm clutch. “Made to take my cock, baby.”
Elain preens beneath him.
“My good girl. So pretty, so smart, so capable.” He huffs a laugh. “Capable of taking this big cock, right?”
He’s babbling, but he can’t leave her with less than filling her to the brim with all of his praise, all of his cock, all of his come that she needs. He has to see that pretty blush she gets when he overwhelms her with feelings, with support, until that brilliant mind is blissed out.
The bond is a song of invisible light between them, strumming contently with their efforts.
read more
#poly+acotarweek2024#eluzriel#elain x azriel x lucien#no hate only smut#acotar#acotar fanfic#my writing
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Do you think Elain will get gwydion? I remember Sarah posting Blodeuwedd on her pinterest in association with Elain. The name Gwydion continues to show up in the story of Blodeuwedd
I don't think Elain would end up with Gwydion considering her character does not seem set up to become a warrior but, I do think there is something to her being tagged in a photo of Blodeuwedd and what it means for the sword.
Lucien, as Elain's mate, seems connected to that fairytale as he is the substitute for the role of Llew considering Llew was the one who had a wife created for him out of flowers, "the most beautiful maiden anyone had seen". And it was Llew's uncle "Gwydion" who created this wife for him.
"The name Gwydion is a boy's name meaning "born of trees". A name from Welsh mythology. In the Mabinogion, Gwydion was a powerful magician who made his nephew a wife from flowers (Blodeuwedd, meaning "face of flowers").
So we have the name being connected to the Blodeuwedd tale and that name means "born of trees" which is how Autumn Court males are often described. Lucien was a "son of the forest and he looked crafted from it", in SF we have similar imagery for Eris.
Those are two really big points in favor of Lucien getting Gwydion, in my opinion. Not to mention the sword is a symbol of the first High King of Prythian and if anyone is going to take up a symbol of that role, the one who helps maintain the peace across the lands of Pyrthian, human lands and the continent, there really is nobody more suited than Lucien.
The sword is also a Made object and we're told in SF that through Helion and his reaction to the Mask, Lucien has a possible connection to items of the Made variety.
I also really like the symbolism of Lucien having Gwydion and Az having Truth Teller. In the fairytale it's Az's character "Gronw" that tries to kill Llew (Lucien's character) with a spear which LLew evades when he turns into an eagle and flies away (interesting how Helion's beast form seems to match that description).
We have Az who holds all this jealousy towards Lucien, believing that he's not a good male and not deserving of Elain which is sad because the two actually have a lot in common and could have shared a decent connection had Az not let his bitterness get in the way.
If by the end of the series Lucien has Gwydion and Az has Truth Teller, it comes full circle. Where, because the blades were like two long lost friends catching up in HOFAS, Lucien and Az will always find themselves reconnecting over the years because of those blades. I think Az is acting like an ass at the moment but they're always going to be in one another's lives. Elain will always be Feyre's sister and Lucien will always be Elain's mate and Feyre's friends so there's going to be holidays spent together, children birthday celebrations spent together, and so on. I doubt SJM will close out these books where the two males share in animosity and this solution is one way to set right their past, how a friendship of sorts can take shape.
I also really like the thought that Nesta would bestow Gwydion to Lucien after the way she acted towards him once they all realized he was Elain's mate. It would be an acknowledgement from her that he is her brother and a worthy male for her sister.
Editing after a conversation with @crazy-ache and an idea she had. It would always be symbolic of Nesta to pass the torch of Lucien taking care of her sister through the sword. I have no doubt that by the time her story is finished, the others will acknowledge that Elain is capable of taking care of herself but, Nesta will always want to know someone is looking out for her. Since I imagine she won't be the one to have that role any longer, it would probably give her peace of mind to have Lucien looking out for Elain (as Elain will look out for Lucien) especially with the knowledge that he has a Made weapon. Nesta has the Trove, Ataraxia, Narben is still out there, the dagger she created, it actually doesn't make sense for the members of the Night Court to keep all made weapons for themselves when Lucien and Elain are supposed to be equals to the members of the IC, just in a different court.
Other than that possibility.....
I don't know that I see Gwyn ending up with Gwydion as Az had a strange reaction when the blades were near one another. I can't imagine him dealing with that day in and day out. Gwyn also named a sword, unprompted, "Silver Majesty" and both Gwydion and TT have black blades (I think Narben will be hers).
If Lucien does not end up with Gwydion, I could see it going to Mor considering her family was the original ruling family of the Night Court and she could possible be a female descendant of Theia's. Bonus points if Az gives up the first Illyrian hero's dagger to Emerie, the first female Illyrian to complete the Rite.
As for Elain, I could see Lucien gifting her a dagger the way he once did Feyre. Something lovely and beautiful that she can keep for self protection and that does not have the bloody history that Truth Teller does.
#azriel acotar#lucien vanserra#pro lucien vanserra#elucien#elain archeron#gwydion#morrigan acotar#acotar theory#elain and lucien
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ACOFAS Chapter 12
“Elain’s voice was colder than usual. I glanced at Nuala and Cerridwen, the latter giving me a shake of her head as if to say, Not a good day for her.”
“”Don’t.” Elain said flatly, starting once more into a walk, veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes in her hands, as if they were Azriel’s shadows.”
“Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in his hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.”
“But I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. “I—I’ll be right back.” She murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she should just sit.”
“One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait.” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice. Mor gaped wide enough that I was certain the half-chewed green beans in her mouth were going to tumble onto her plate.”
“Azriel didn’t let go. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.””
“Elain swept in, apron gone and hair rebraided. “Please don’t wait on my account.” She said, taking the seat at the head of the table.”
““I’d feel bad for the mice.” Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel and a grateful smile from Elain—and no shortage of scowling from Amren. But something in me eased at that laughter, at the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.”
#acotar#elain archeron#azriel#elriel#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#elriel supremacy#pro elriel#elriel endgame
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Metamorphosis
Rating: G
Pairing: Elucien
Word count: ~2,000
TWs: None
Summary: How a butterfly and some reference books led Elain to reconsider the mate she'd been trying so hard to ignore.
Read on AO3!
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He’d sent her books.
Elain thought it a strange change of strategy at first, until she realized he’d sent books to Feyre as well, tomes on Prythian art history. He’d even sent Nesta a slender copy of a volume on Valkyrie battle strategies. It seemed he had a surplus of books in his new home in the Day Court, where he now resided full time.
Feyre had not given her the details on that particular bout of drama, and Elain had refused to show any interest in the matter, even though it was exactly the sort of gossip she would’ve devoured in her old life. Spite won out against curiosity, but only just.
She’d accepted the books from Feyre without reading the titles and dropped them onto a shelf in her closet–atop the brown jacket whose pockets held enchanted gloves and pearl earrings. Despite her best efforts to glean no information from his latest gifts, she’d not been able to miss the elegant depiction of a butterfly etched into the top book’s cover. That drawing had tickled the dark corner of her mind that wondered about him, wondered what about these particular books had reminded him of her.
He thinks I am simple, she decided, that all I see are pretty flowers, and that I know nothing of their inner workings. He thinks I should learn about butterflies because I don’t know anything about them already.
In the spring, that butterfly resurfaced in her thoughts, when one wholly unlike any she’d seen before floated through her garden. She watched it flit on orange and black wings over rose bushes and between stalks of lavender. It drifted like a leaf on the river, never once landing before it dove behind a hedge and out of sight. Beautiful as Elain’s garden was, it did not offer whatever that butterfly sought, and watching it wander fruitlessly had sent a spear of longing through her chest: longing to provide, to nurture. To be useful in the one domain she was allowed to control.
She hoped the butterfly would return and give her garden another chance; but first, she had to learn what it needed.
That night, Elain peered into her closet. The butterfly book sat on top of The Classification of Soils and A Botanist’s Guide to the Night Court, Volume 1. Carefully, she slid Lepidoptera of the Solar Courts off of the stack.
Thankfully, there were illustrations. She didn’t let herself stop to skim any of the words as she flipped through the pages until she found one that looked promising. The illustrations were not colored, but the black lines and white spots along the wings’ edges matched quite well with what she could recall of her garden visitor. The word Monarch sat in bold script above the illustration, with a descriptive paragraph on the opposite page.
A brush-footed butterfly, orange with black veining, white spots along the edge of the wings, white spots on black body. The black veins on the female will–
Elain blinked and shook her head. She couldn’t read the whole page. That set a dangerous precedent to the book being interesting–it was intolerable enough that it be useful. She instead set to scanning the page for anything about eggs or caterpillars. Luckily, in addition to providing illustrations, the book’s author was also concise.
Host plants are any milkweed varieties native to the solar courts. Females lay eggs on the underside of the milkweed leaf, and larvae feed exclusively on the milkweed until the fifth instar. Larvae prefer to pupate as far from the host plant as possible. Chrysalis is a bright green with gold–
Elain slammed the book shut. She didn’t need to read about the chrysalis. She’d see it for herself. She only needed to find a milkweed plant that was native to the solar courts.
Her gaze drifted to the other books, where A Botanist’s Guide to the Night Court, Volume 1 sat with the silver foiling of its spine shining in the faelights’ glow. Taunting her.
Scowling, Elain stood and placed Lepidoptera of the Solar Courts on her bedside table. As she blew out a long breath, she willed the tension from her shoulders and picked up the other book. Lucien Vanserra could win, just this once. It’s not as though she had to tell him about it.
—
Those varieties of milkweed had turned out to be rather difficult to acquire. Her supplier in Velaris had few seeds and even fewer plants available. Elain cleared out their stock, much to the nursery owner’s surprise. Milkweed was highly uncommon in Velaris gardens, being considered, as its name implied, a weed. But he assured her that she’d have no trouble sowing more seeds come autumn.
As soon as she returned to the river house, she put the three plants in the ground. Two specimens had tall, gangly stalks topped by clusters of pink flowers, while the third was smaller with thin leaves and had not yet begun to bloom. Only an hour after planting, Elain was rewarded with the return of her orange-and-black visitor, who floated directly to the leaves beneath the pink blossoms.
Elain’s fae eyes found the eggs right away, dotting the undersides of the leaves like tiny pearls. Every day, sometimes every few hours, she bent over the plants until her hair nestled in the dirt to peer at those little eggs. At last, she ventured out to the garden one morning to find holes in the leaves where the eggs had been, and dozens of larvae the width of her smallest fingernail and half as long.
She tried to focus on other tasks throughout the garden, to stop herself from spending all her time worrying over the caterpillars; but it was summer, and there were only so many deadheads to prune, only so many leaves to sweep from the stone steps. Some days, when the river house was silent and there was nothing left to water, Elain allowed herself to lay on her stomach on the grass, her chin upon her hands, and watch the caterpillars nibble and creep, allowed herself to feel that swell of pride–that these creatures might not have found a home if not for her.
She did not allow herself that faint flutter of affection, stirring in the pit of her stomach, for the one who’d gifted her the knowledge she’d needed. She stamped it down whenever it threatened.
He couldn’t have known about that butterfly whose name she’d wanted to learn. He couldn’t have known how bugs like that made a garden, gave it blood and breath, just as surely as the soil. That they elevated the flowers to a purpose beyond beauty.
He could not have known, she insisted to herself, even on that day she spotted him on the other side of the windows of Feyre’s solarium. He did not look out to the garden even once as he spoke to her sister, but she knew that golden eye of his saw too much. Could it see even down to the fat, wriggling buds of life on the leaves before her?
It didn’t matter. As long as they were bound to the plants she’d planted, these caterpillars were hers alone. She could claim that much, at least.
As much as she could claim anything in this court.
—
Elain glared at the new plant in its makeshift paper pot, two vines adorned with broad, heart-shaped leaves winding around a wooden post.
It was a clever ploy. Gloves and pearls could be stashed away; gardening books, begrudgingly used before they, too, were shoved into the darkest corner of her closet. But a plant was alive, a gift that she could not, in good conscience, condemn to death by neglect.
Worst of all, it was a climbing vine, and damned if Elain hadn’t been looking for something to train on the garden’s eastern fence.
A tag sticking out of the soil read, Wooly Pipevine. A smaller tag, written in a different, elegant script, stated, host plant to swallowtail butterflies.
Elain folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a sharp breath through her nose.
Beside her, Feyre shifted on her feet. “Do you want me to get rid of it?” Ironic, as she’d been the one to accept it, the one who’d let that red-haired menace into this house to begin with.
“That won’t be necessary.” Elain bent to wrap her arms around the paper pot and, without a glance back at her sister, marched outside.
She grumbled to herself on the arrogance of the fae as she paced the length of the fence in search of a suitable spot. She grumbled more as she dug a hole, as she tossed in fertilizer and packed down the dirt with more force than was necessary. And standing back to observe her work, she grumbled still, on the choice of pipevine, of all things.
“They don’t even have pretty flowers!” she pouted to the plant in question.
Yet there it was again, that flutter of delight trapped inside her ribs; much of it came from the simple joy of a job completed, of new life and growing things. But there was that spark, too: warmth that circled her heart and squeezed it tight, etching upon it the words on that little tag, the words of someone who looked just a bit closer.
Two weeks later, a butterfly in shades of velvet midnight with a trail of black-rimmed suns along its wing drifted through her garden. It passed by roses, morning glories, even the pink and white blossoms of the milkweed, ignoring them all to alight upon a leaf of the pipevine.
—
Lucien looked as if he’d been caught in the middle of an attempted robbery–only he’d brought something into the house instead of taking something away. Elain wished she felt vindicated about catching him in the act, but it was a different sort of emotion tangled inside her chest, sending tremors through her limbs.
He’d brought another plant.
Elain kept her face a haughty mask, raising an eyebrow as she asked, “Passionflower?”
Still no vindication came to her, but she did feel a tad smug at how off-guard she’d put him. He inclined his head, looking suitably cowed. “Yes, my lady.”
“Why?” She forced accusation into that word, more than the curiosity that she’d spent so long swallowing, curiosity that had now grown so large she feared she’d choke on it.
Lucien met her gaze at last, and Elain caught a glimpse in his eye of the vulpine predator her sister had warned her about. That gaze held a danger that did not seek to intimidate or overpower, but to analyze. Dangerous in how much that gaze saw. Dangerous in how it did not feel dangerous at all. “I thought you might be looking for more host plants to add to your garden.”
Elain narrowed her eyes. “Are you well versed in the raising of insects, sir?”
He shifted the plant and its pot into the crook of his left arm. He winced as one of the little vines whipped at his cheek. “Not in the slightest.” Though he angled the plant away, the thin, curling tendril still swayed towards his face. Maybe it thought it had found the sun in his gold eye, or the reddish flakes of pine bark in the other.
Elain squared her shoulders and jerked her chin towards the plant. “It’s a host for the solar fritillary.”
He nodded. He did not look surprised. He’d done research on insect larvae and the plants that nourished them, a subject that he admitted little interest in. What led you to this? What did you see? The questions burned down her throat as she swallowed them. Did you look past the rose blossoms and see the thorns, the grubs, the detritus beneath? But it was too much to ask, too soon to hope.
“Fritillaries are rather plain,” she said instead, a half-truth. Fritillaries were a rusty orange with small streaks of black, but if one looked close enough, they would catch the striking white spots on the undersides of their wings. Had Lucien researched enough to learn that much?
But Lucien tilted his head and gave a smirk that somehow wore the guise of a frown. “I did not realize your garden had such a strict dress code, my lady.”
Elain blinked. She’d expected an empty apology. She’d grown used to being placated, to being offered deference that sounded suspiciously condescending. She did not expect a riposte, nor did she expect the smile that tugged at her lips in response. “Are you good with a shovel, my lord?”
It was a relief to see his eyes widen, to know that at least here, with a vine tickling his face, he did not feel the need to wear a mask, to hide his fear and hope. “I’m afraid I am untrained,” he said.
She turned to open the door to the garden. “Well, if you’re such a quick study on butterflies, I’m sure you can learn about planting.”
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Left Behind part 3 (Lucien x reader)
A/n: Im have decided something (drumroll please)! I dislike this perspective. Also this part was slightly rushed even if it came out later than the others (sorry).
⚠️ - meh
word count- 1200 (finally put a word count…)
part 1 part 2 epilogue masterlist
*****
Y/n was going to be the death of him. When had she gotten so gods damned beautiful? Or she'd always been that beautiful and he'd been too blind to see it. No, that couldn't be it, could it? But Lucien sensed a new confidence in her, as if 15 years of raising a child alone had given her a new strength.
She smiled at him but it was guarded, not the joyful, carefree smile she always used to gift him. He had thrown away that gift like it was nothing. Lucien cleared his throat, "Shall we?" He motioned toward the kitchen door where the smell of tomato sauce could be detected. Y/n eyed him suspiciously before nodding slowly and starting toward the kitchen.
When they walked in Jurian and Alex were chilling at the table. Jurian smirked, "You two lovebirds are making dinner." He directed y/n to boiling the noodles and Lucien to cutting the vegetables. As Lucien picked up the knife to cut the veggies he glanced at Alex and Jurian. They were bantering back and forth, sending snarky comments to the other. Alex picked up a blade deftly and threw it at him so it speared his broccoli.
"Stop staring and get to work already!" He smirked and mockingly saluted her. His daughter, he couldn't hold back his smile. And she'll be a lovely emissary one day, he thought. True to his daughters order, he got to work.
*****
When making dinner, neither she or Lucien spoke until Vassa burst through the doors and saw their predicament. She paled. Alex jumped up and dragged the Queen out to presumably tell her what was happening.
Y/n glanced at Lucien to see him done with cutting and watching her intently. She looked away and finished boiling the pasta. Once dinner was ready shel left the males to serve it and went to find Vassa. She found her and Alex outside, talking in the gardens. She joined them while Vassa asked her, "How did you guys end up here? Alex is taking forever."
Patting Alex's head Y/n said, "I was searching for this one and I'd searched everywhere except here so I flew over and found Luci already here, talking with Alex!!
Both females turned to stare at Alex expectantly and she squirmed under their combined stares. "We... just talked, got caught up on 14 years of gossip I guess.
"Guys! Dinners ready!" They all jumped as Lucien emerged from the back door, a tense smile on his lips. "And um, Y/n can I talk to you?"
The others all looked at Y/n as she nodded and all but shoved them towards the door. "Don't wait to eat on our account" she called as the door shut. Turning to face Lucien, Y/n smiled at him tightly.
Lucien nervously grinned back and began, "look Y/n, I'm really sorry about 15 years ago. First I didn't know you were pregnant and I know that's not a good excuse or reason for you to forgive me. I'm not sure it would have impacted my decision but you need to know the day before I left I got a letter from Elain. It said that she was willing to try with me and give us a chance if I stopped seeing you. So I slept on it and left the next day because the letter ate off all my insecurities, like you would leave me because you are way out of my league. I know that's not a good excuse either but just let me continue, please."
Y/n smirked at Lucien. "Ya know Luci, I woke up in the middle the night and found the letter on the counter... but I didn't expect you to actually follow what Elain said. But go on." She crossed her arms and waited.
It was a good five minutes before Lucien throat could work again. "I loved you, I truly did. When I first got to night everyone was so confused to see me and when I told them about the letter Elain claimed she didn't write it and wanted nothing to do with me. I broke down then and Feyre comforted me through it all. We found out that one of my brothers had sent the letter as a cruel joke. She urged me to talk to both Elain and you, to work out my problems. So I tried to talk to Elain but every time she gave me the cold shoulder I thought of your face when I left you. The way I made you cry when I promised myself I would never do that to a female I loved. So for fifteen years I saw your face everywhere and I tried to build up the courage to go find and talk to you. This is the first time I've been outside the night court ever since I left you behind. I left the love of my life behind and I was too afraid to face the consequences of my decisions. But if you'll take me Y/n, I will be yours forever. I never stopped loving you and I never will."
Y/n watches as Lucien finishes and stares at her feet, she studies him, he truly does love her. She smiles knowing he's waiting for her to reject him and a small selfish part of her tells her to wait so he can feel some of the pain she felt.
After a good minute of silence Lucien looks up to see Y/n smirking at him. She stops smiling as they're eyes meet and she carefully leans forward and kisses him. The kiss is light, but passionate and only lasts for about a second, both Far relishing the taste of the other on their tongue. As she pulls away Lucien smiles and pulls her back.
Y/n grins, "Okay Luci but I need to make some things clear. First this relationship if we choose it requires both parties to be completely truthful about anything even relatively important. But Lucien if you are to leave again I don't think my heart could heal again. Besides we have Alex and if you leave, her heart is too young to break. And if you still harbor feelings for Elain then all of this is off and I'm not getting back together." She pulls back and looks at Lucien.
Lucien thinks for a moment before grinning and pulling her back into his arms. "I promise I will not leave you, not for Elain, not for anyone else. I think some small part of me will always care for Elain unless we break the bond. But I am yours forever."
Y/n smiles, "Good enough." They embraced as magic coursed between their souls.
Suddenly whoops rang out through the garden and someone slow clapped. Alex came running and hugged her parents. She smiled up at Lucien, her new father, and an evil grin spread over her face. “I’m so going to beat you in training!”
Y/n smiled down at her daughter, their daughter. “You won’t be able to beat him if you can’t beat me. And you cant beat me.”
Lucien smiled, eyes shining. And nudged Alex out of the way before smoothly reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. Simultaneously opening the box and sliding to his knee he grinned up at Y/n.
“Will you give me the honor of marrying me, my beautiful Y/n?”
a/n: I think I want an epilogue… do y’all want one? It’ll be focused around Alex. Enjoy your day!
Taglist
@thelov3lybookworm
#acotar#bubybubsters#fanfic#acowar#daddy lucien#lucien acotar#lucien vanserra#lucien x you#lucien x reader
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Word Search Tag Game <3
Thank you dear @nirikeehan for the tag. I shall endeavor to find these words and am already laughing because numero uno is a snip from a future chapter of Letters.
broken
from Letters to the Dead, (an unpublished upcoming bit)
Niva laid her head on his chest, listening to the gallop of his heart, gradually slowing. Her thumb made little circles on his skin. A comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by her long sigh of contentment, as if some weight that had settled on her chest for days had finally lifted.
tooth
This one was tough because apparently I never use "tooth" but I use "teeth" a LOT.
Here's one from All of Me Belongs to You, an acotar thing awaiting chapter 2.
Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth, no more than the barest hiss of air, and yet Elain’s eyes somehow found him, spearing through that crack as if she could See through walls, through darkness, through him. He did not have time to decipher her expression, did not know if it was surprise, or embarrassment, or horror, or anger, or some other, worse emotion she’d invented on the spot, something fitting for his impropriety, his utter shamelessness. He was moving before he could do or say something stupid, folding himself into shadow and emerging in the garden, where the cold air struck him like a slap. He staggered forward, gulping freezing breaths that felt little better than drowning.
stroll
from The Somnambulist, a gift for @wabart
Syrillon strolled from the docks that night with customary swagger, as if he’d been drunk on a boat for so long he’d forgotten how to walk like a normal person. As if the damp had sunk into his hips, his knees. That gate of his belied the agility and precision (not to mention, sobriety) he’d been honing even longer, but nobody in Rialto was stupid enough to put that to the test: sailors and horse-thieves both swayed when they moved, yet both had quick hands, quicker blades. This sailor wore his on his belt, obvious and within easy reach. It glittered even in the dim light, a jewel in the hilt glinting red as an ember catching.
civilization
Apparently I never use this word. Does "civilians" count? From the next (unpublished) chapter of You're Bad but You're Mine:
It was easy to imagine liking Haven, with everybody celebrating. Soldiers and mages and civilians, arm in arm, playing music on improvised instruments, some with a surprising level of skill. Seeing them like this, one could not help but imagine who they had all been, before joining up with a religious paramilitary organization in the middle of fucking nowhere. Impossible not to wonder what would happen to them all, now that the Breach had been sealed.
satisfied
closest I got is satisfaction, from You're Bad but You're Mine, chapter 1
"We’re late," she bit out, eyes straight ahead, locked on the chantry doors. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting the stare she could feel on her, potent as a touch. But she did reach into her pocket, slap a handkerchief against his chest. He had the decency to grab it, and dab delicately at his mouth, his chin. "You’re late. You were supposed to come right away."
"Well, I never come before a lady."
"Please," Cassandra drawled, "spare me."
Let's SEE let's SEEEEEEE this is gunna be a mixed fandom tagging experience I think
Gunna tag @dreadfutures | @plisuu | @rosella-writes | @serial-chillr | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @wabart | @thesistersarcheron | @velidewrites | @ultadverb | @melonsfantasyworld | @soopsiesdaisies | @inquisimer | @exalted-dawn
(and, of course, anyone else who would like to play)
YOUR WORDS, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT THEM:
soft, shadow, cut, curious, hollow
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Climbing Out (Chapter 4)
A/N: Hello everybody! I have nothing to put here except that you are all AMAZING PEOPLE! Like you guys have been so supportive of this series, etc. I love you guys so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter even though it’s more uh filler.
Ship: Azriel x Reader, archeron!reader
Warnings: I forgot that there is mentions of abuse and violence here and there but it is like one or two lines but if it still is triggering you may leave :) And uh heavily UNEDITED :D
Official Masterlist
Climbing Out Masterlist
Requested? No. Inspired? Yes! This series is inspired by Just Another Stereotype but the storyline is slightly different.
I chose to fly with Cassian. Feyre flew with Azriel and as we waited for Rhys, Cass and I made jokes.
“What’s so funny?” Azriel asked, raising his eyes brows as I doubled over in laughter. I giggled again as I said between breathes. “Cass was just telling me about some stunts you guys did when you were still in training,” Azriel’s brows furrowed as he looked at Cassian. “Cass?” He mocked. Cassian just shrugged, “It’s old Fae language for friendship,” “No it’s not!” I hissed as I slapped his forearm, he feigned extreme hurt.
Azriel’s eyes darkened in, anger? But I ignored him. I could hang out with whoever I want and doesn’t have the right to be mad because he is my enemy. My mate. I snorted inwardly. He would not be my mate, I hated him.
“We have to go, come one,” Cassian urged, lifting me as he flexed his wings…and jumped into thin air. I screamed as we begun to fall but with another flare of his wings we were soaring again. The magic of the wall was suffocating as it tried to reach for me through that hole.
It felt like I had gone through in the nick of time.
I was breathing hard as we landed, I doubled over as I sat on the snowy ground — and giggled. “That was absolutely thrilling,” I grinned wildly and Cassian chuckled, offering me his hand. I took it and was quickly hauled to my feet as Feyre motioned for me to follow her. Mor was behind us as she winnowed. I acknowledged her with a nod.
Approaching the large double doors of the manor, I knocked the door, Feyre beside me. Nesta opened it and her eyes fell on me.
“What did they do to you…?” She asked as she opened the door wider and reached for my face. I flinched away from the touch, the sight of the hand spearing towards me. She paused.
“They did this to you,” It wasn’t a question. Nesta glared at Feyre as she demanded, “How could you let this happen? She is barely an adult! You dragged her into this mess,” Feyre was silent as insults were flung at her but Rhysand was not inclined to listen to the mockery of his mate.
“Last I checked, Feyre was also killed and turned Fae, what’s so different about Y/N?” He asked. Nesta rolled her eyes. “As if you would understand why,” I blinked before sighing and glancing past Nesta. Elain was there with her hand over her mouth, gaping at me. “They…they stabbed me in the gut and let me bleed to death, they almost couldn’t be bothered to bring me back if Feyre didn’t ask them to,” I admitted.
It had been true. Everyone had been excited to meet Feyre curse breaker, the one that answered the riddle who fought the wyrm, who defended them against Amarantha. However, not all were eager to see the one who helped her read the riddle, who taught her how to fight properly, the one who slipped out of her cell to check on everyone, every night when they were asleep. Small sacrifices of myself to give them hope yet it was nothing. To them at least.
Stepping inside, I approached the dining room, only to glance behind me once. But it was enough to see the longing in Azriel’s eyes as he looked at Elain. A part of me stung as I turned around my head and composed myself for the meeting, another part of me felt relieved. Less attachments meant less of a need to live. My job was almost done I just had to finish the war and I could disappear forever. I had no one else anyways, and if my mate could be happy with someone else then I had no complaint. At least I got to see mine.
We all sat around the dining room and as it the clocked striked, the mortal queens winnowed in. Winnowed. I looked to Rhys and Feyre and they looked equally stunned. Guards filed into the room and the Mortal Queens appeared. But there were six, not seven.
They sat as he eldest looking of them crooned, “You have an hour of our time,” I blinked. What a narcissist. The rest begun debating back and forth with the queens but I was so tired, I couldn’t care enough to waste my energy. That’s when the mortal queens begun mocking Rhysand.
“I do not have enough breathe to convince you because I know you will say no,” I said. “But think on this: We were murdered, Feyre and I, to become Fae. We were killed. Her neck was snapped and I was stabbed in the gut and left to bled out. I was nearly not revived. They were too busy with Feyre cursebreaker,” My tone was composed, my back straight. The image of a lady. “But I am here because there are children, there are families counting on us to not be butchered. There are innocents on both sides, and regardless of what Hybern has said, they will butcher us all and if you need evidence of that then I have plenty,” I finished, looking every single one of them in the eyes, not backing down.
“We will see this evidence the next time we return, I assume,” The eldest asked. I nodded and that was enough. They left without another word.
“What have you done,” Rhysand demanded. And I laid back in my chair. “I solved the issue before it could be presented,” Was all I said simply. “All we need is something to show them that we are sincere and something to show them that Hybern will kill us all,” I shrugged. Before laying my head on the table. I was beyond tired. “I’m tired, I want to go home,” Was all I said as I sighed and stood. Only for me to collapse, as my head hit the table and darkness surrounded me.
tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing @flightlesslittlebirdie @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123 @bookworm-nerd6 @gigisssz @bethany-bee0128 @cityofidek @aetherl0l @valeridarkness @starrstrucked @judig92 @starlit-terror
#acotar#acosf#acotar fandom#azriel shadowsinger#azriel angst#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#azriel#azriel x reader#rhysand#acofas#acomaf#mor acotar#eris acotar#feyre acotar#elain archeron#papa archeron#rhysand archeron#nesta acotar#nesta archeron#amren acotar
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I need SJM to up the ante a bit. Yeah, yeah, violence is toxic and we shouldn't 'glorify' it or whatever, but honestly, if you are writing about 500 year old blood-soaked Illyrian warriors, who need to control their BLOOD-LUST with some fancy jewellery, then goddammit, SHOW it to me.
Show me Azriel slashing throats right and left or flying with a tree on his back. Show me him dropping from the skies and decapitating someone with one hand and picking up Elain with another.
Give me more of that Cassian on the battlefield. The scene of him running and throwing his spear was legit the sexiest scene in all of ACOWAR!!! I am totally okay with less blowjobs to the sound of the injured and the dying, and more of Cassian injuring and killing people (sans BJ).
Why do I not have a scene of him standing over some fallen baddie, from the baddie's POV? Cassian is covered in blood, clutching his sword, that savage look on his face, about to deliver the death blow.
Maybe *I* have blood lust, but I am sorry, I love my flower girl, yet it feels as if it's just her and Nes delivering all the killing blows.
I need the guys to step up and bloody some baddies for their ladies. Not very feminist of me, but I am a simple woman who needs bloodshed from the Lord Of Bloodshed.
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Hi there!! I read your Elaine x reader and it was very, VERY adorable (and very Elaine, lol)!! 🥺💓
If you don’t mind me asking, I would love if you could write about Leora/Ye Suhua friendship that bloomed into something more, but teensy slight angst because Leora defected from the Union. I’d like to think that Leora still keeps in secret contact with Ye Suhua when she pops up in Tabaton sometimes to see Cory.
Or, for variety, I’d love to see Celine/Melanie and how Celine spoils Melanie with love through trips, gifts, attention, quality time, - all the cliche things Melanie loves - all while juggling working at Evening Sounds. Celine feels like the type of person where once you’re family, you’re family. Unless you really cross her, then she’ll pull out all her dirt on you and make you regret the day you met her. But, all in all, I think they’re so cute and I love that idea of “love is in the last place you’d look/love is the ones who make you feel like you’re home.” 🥹
a/n: HIII! THANK YOU SO MUCH IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT!! leora and suhua are soooo silly i love that ship omgg! and celine and melanie are an old married couple! and it looks like you should be the writer 👀 this is so cuteeee! thank you for the req !
word count: 250
Leora x Ye Suhua & Celine x Melanie (can we call them Speared Star and Snake Song)
~Leora and Ye Suhua!
* Bisexuals in love!
* Since they met, they both made a vow to themselves to stay by each other's side!
* In battles, they use their invincibility to protect each other.
* Leora still works with the Union since the deal was secret. Ye Suhua found out about the trade and avoided Leora for a week or two.
* Leora noticed and asked her why. Ye Suhua coldly explained how disgusting it was to betray the Esper Union, the top organization trying to make things right in the world. Leora incessantly apologized, attempting to prove that it would all work out eventually. Suhua listens, still upset, but tries to drop it so they can move on.
* Later, Leora asks Suhua out! It was no big gesture. Leora randomly walked up to Suhua and asked her to be her girlfriend! Suhua slightly hesitated, before agreeing.
* They have dates in Tabaton! Sometimes Cory tags along with them!
~Celine & Melanie
* They fell in love at first sight!
* They are always going on dates! No less than 3 times a week.
* Celine always goes over the top, buying everything she can for her girlfriend.
* Celine usually feels overworked and stressed out, so Melanie helps her relax.
* The hissing sounds of Melanie's snakes calm Celine!
* Melanie gives Celine massages and plays white noise.
* Celine is the only other person allowed to pet or feed Melanie's snakes!
* Mel' calls Celine 'Cece'.
* The go out of town as often as they can.
* Celine is a passenger princess! Melanie loves to drive her around.
a/n: sorry this took a bit but i hope you enjoyed! thanks for reading! <3
#speared star#snake song#dislyte#leora dislyte#ye suhua#ye suhua dislyte#dislyte fanfics#celine dislyte#melanie dislyte#koexspoke#koexfic
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Nesta and Elain's actions in the final battle of ACOWAR might have been prophetic
Valkyries and... Banshees?
Please don't screenshot and share this post without credit.
Disclaimer: this is yet another parallel I've been sitting on for a long time - the banshee bit especially is cracked, I know - but apparently I'm clearing my drafts this holiday season? Obviously Nesta's becoming a Valkyrie isn't a theory, but the earlier clues might give us a new lens through which to view Elain's actions, including how her Sight might come into play.
Nesta became a Valkyrie in ACOSF...
In Norse mythology, Valkyries are the choosers of the slain, sent by Odin to decide who was worthy of a place in Valhalla. Additionally, they have been known to fly through the air or sea on their horses, protect those they love, and some could even cause the death of warriors they did not favour. Finally, if the parallels with Nesta's journey so far weren't becoming apparent, Norse Valkyries also took heroes as lovers, had been described as daughters of royalty, had ravens accompanying them and we're connected to swans.
Nesta's battle, steel and sword imagery has been present since early on (though with words rather than blades), but was cemented in ACOWAR, when she was described as a freshly forged sword on her first visit to Illyria.
She, Emerie and Gwyn had the HOW conjure up a miniature Pegasus, and Helion has the real deal. I'm definitely not the first to suggest this, but if they end up riding pegasi into battle then I wouldn't be surprised.
Nesta is incredibly protective of her loved ones, especially - to date - Elain.
She caused Briallyn's death, and contributed to the King of Hybern dying, too.
Cassian, a hero in his own right, has been likened to Enalius (the first Illyrian).
She is the daughter of the Prince of Merchants.
Cassian, Rhys and Azriel wear raven-winged helmets with their Illyrian armour, and Mor - who wants to train with the Valkyries - is named after a Celtic triple goddess who can turn into a raven.
There are women/females trapped as swans at Koschei's lake.
But let's return to the Valkyries title as the Chooser of the Slain. What did Nesta seem to do* in the final battle of ACOWAR, though unintentionally. She - in a roundabout way - chose who was slain by the Cauldron's light by calling out to Cassian to save him, and not the others.
* I'm not in any way blaming Nesta for the deaths of the Illyrian soldiers, simply pointing out the parallel.
And then Nesta began screaming. Not in pain. But a name. Over and over. “CASSIAN.” Amren reached for her, but Nesta roared, “CASSIAN!” She scrambled to her feet, as if she’d leap into the skies. Her body lurched, and she went down, heaving again. A figure shot from the Illyrian ranks, spearing for us, flapping hard, red Siphons blazing— Nesta moaned, writhing on the ground. The earth seemed to shudder in response. No—not in response to her. In terror of the thing that erupted from Hybern’s army. [...] Cassian was halfway to us when the Cauldron’s blast hit the Illyrian forces. I saw him scream—but heard nothing. The force of that power … It shredded Azriel’s shield. Then Rhysand’s. And then shredded any Siphon-made ones. It hollowed out my ears and seared my face. And where a thousand soldiers had been a heartbeat before … Ashes rained down upon our foot soldiers. Nesta had known. - ACOWAR, chapter 70
So, if Nesta's actions in saving Cassian parallel Valkyries being "the choosers of the slain" so closely, should we pay more attention to what Elain did in the same battle? Of course! But can we extrapolate anything from her deeds at the time? Let's see what implications her Sight could have for the future...
Undercover missions and intelligence work?
Banshee associations?
Will Elain go on secret missions?
I've already discussed the possibility of Elain being remembered not by her deeds, but as "the Shadowsinger's knife" - as she took up not only Azriel's dagger, but also his mantle as "the knife in the dark" - but, if this follows Nesta's progression, then we should see Elain using Truth-Teller and/or the shadows once more in future books.
For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas. But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” - ACOWAR, chapter 74
I suspect Elain's use of the shadows could be related to her Sight, as well as shadow walking/winnowing, possibly in a similar manner to Azriel. Combine this potential with her ability to keep secrets, wisdom, and powers of observation (all canon) and I think she could be an asset in Court intelligence operations.
Does Elain have banshee-like powers?
This one is A Stretch, I know, but please bear with me. A (long) while back, when I was talking with a friend who used to be on Tumblr, we realised that we both wondered if one of Elain's powers might be based in some way on those of banshees, and for a few reasons. Not only does Elain appear to straddle life and death, or light and dark, as rebirth and the grey, but I suspect she could have powers from the lost Dusk Court, and be a woman of the fairy mound ie. a bean sí; her scream, ostensibly at her father's dead body came one single chapter before Rhys (a family member) died helping Feyre repair the Cauldron. Could it also have been in warning?
Said to be created when a woman is murdered, Banshees are female spirits, or fairy women, whose keening, wailing or screaming heralds the death of a family member. While Elain may not resemble their typical hair colour (silver, red or white), she is still canonically beautiful (though banshees aren't always young beauties, sometimes they are depicted as "old hags"), and she went through a form of death when she was Made in the Cauldron.
Rhys? He did die, albeit temporarily.
It retreated the moment Elain’s eyes fell on our dead father lying in the adjacent clearing. The moment the scream came out of her. No. I lunged for them, but the Cauldron was too fast. Too strong. It whipped me back, back, back—across the battlefield. - ACOWAR, chapter 75
It took me a moment to grasp it. What I saw. Rhys was sprawled on the rocky ground, wings draped behind him. He looked like he was sleeping. But as I breathed in— It wasn’t there. That thing that rose and fell with each breath. That echoed each heartbeat. The mating bond. It wasn’t there. It was gone. Because his own chest … it was not moving. And Rhys was dead. - ACOWAR, chapter 76
Elain appeared to predict Cassian's death earlier on, and it would have come to pass if she had not acted to take down the King of Hybern.
Nesta’s nostrils flared, but Elain peered up at Cassian, blinking twice. “He snapped your wings, broke your bones.” I tried to shut out the sound of Cassian’s scream—the memory of the spraying blood. Nesta stared at her plate. Elain, at least, was out of her room, but … “It’ll take more than that to kill me,” Cassian said with a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes. Elain only said to Cassian, “No, it will not.” - ACOWAR, chapter 30
“Go,” Cassian managed to breathe. “Go.” “This seems familiar,” the king mused. “Was it him or the other bastard who crawled toward you that day?” Cassian was indeed now crawling toward her, broken wings and leg dragging, leaving a trail of blood over the grass and roots. - ACOWAR, chapter 74
Less specifically, she also seemed to have visions of the Illyrian regiments dying when they visited the camp at Windhaven. Obviously that was a less risky prediction to make at the outset of a war, but when taken in context with everything else, it may be significant, especially because Cassian - a family member - would have been there if Nesta hadn't called him away.
Elain at last slid into the chair near Mor’s, her dawn-pink dress—finer than the ones she usually wore—crinkling beneath her. “Will—will many of these soldiers die?” I cringed, but Nesta said, “Yes.” - ACOWAR, chapter 51
Cassian was halfway to us when the Cauldron’s blast hit the Illyrian forces. I saw him scream—but heard nothing. The force of that power … It shredded Azriel’s shield. Then Rhysand’s. And then shredded any Siphon-made ones. It hollowed out my ears and seared my face. And where a thousand soldiers had been a heartbeat before … Ashes rained down upon our foot soldiers. - ACOWAR, chapter 70
If it's not Elain, though, my money would be on either Clotho or Merrill (I've wondered if Merrill could have Fury-type powers or links for a year and a half at this point, but I could see how the two could both inspire her).
This could all be a massive coincidence, of course, but it's been at the back of my mind, and in my drafts, for ages. I can't wait to see how Elain and Nesta's powers develop in the future, not to mention how Feyre might be able to use hers now that she's had more practise.
#elain archeron#elain archeron theory#elain's powers#nesta archeron#nesta archeron theory#nesta's powers#valkyrie theory#acotar#acotar theory#banshee theory#spy elain
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Soft Nessian “I don’t care what people say when we’re together, you know I wanna be the one to hold you in your sleep” happily
Oh my gosh, yes! I love Happily! It's absolutely a top 10 One Direction song for me. Thanks so much for sending! It's not entirely soft, and has some drama, but I hope you still enjoy :)
I don’t care what people say when we’re together. You know I want to be the one to hold you when you sleep.
Once again Nesta finds herself hesitating just outside the doorway to the dining room. She always seems to find herself hesitating. No matter how much time passes. No matter how many reassurances Cassian gives her. There’s always a voice prickling at the back of her mind, whispering cruelly. Perhaps it’s something in the trill of voices, in the loud laughter, she can hear floating from inside the room. But it makes her skin crawl because she knows it’s not for her. It will never be for her.
She has to give them credit for pretending at least, all too polite expressions and pretty words. But Nesta doesn’t miss the way Mor’s smile will drop once her attention is elsewhere, the way Rhysand’s eyes will narrow when he thinks she isn’t looking. She knows there are words whispered behind her back, behind their back, about them just as much as it’s about her.
Nesta is happy though. Being with Cassian makes her happy, fills her with a lightness she doesn’t think she’s ever felt in her life. The way his eyes soften, the smile she knows is just for her, still has butterflies erupting in her gut every time, and there’s a warmth and safety in his arms, in his mere presence. She knows that Cassian sees her, understands her, in a way no one else ever has or ever will, and she knows there’s a side of him he’s only comfortable unmasking with her.
So Nesta tells herself that it doesn’t matter what people say, that she doesn’t care, but sometimes, it’s easier said than done.
A light touch at the small of her back startles Nesta out of her thoughts. She turns to find Cassian standing beside her. He offers her a small smile before stepping past her and into the dining room. Nesta takes a final deep breath and follows behind him, taking a seat at the large, dark wood table.
For the most part, dinner is uneventful. Chatter echoes around Nesta as she loads up her plate, making sure she scoops an extra spoonful of potatoes onto her plate for when Cassian inevitably steals from her plate. She answers Elain’s quiet questions as she eats, and she’s nearly finished when Mor turns her attention toward their end of the table.
“So, we’re all going out after this,” Mor explains in that bright, bubbly tone of hers. “We’ll hit the town, probably start at Rita’s.”
“We’re good,” Cassian answers easily, spearing his fork through one of the potatoes on Nesta’s plate and popping it into his mouth.
Cassian doesn’t see the way Mor’s mouth twists at his response, her brightly painted lips turning down in a frown, but Nesta doesn’t miss it. She doesn’t miss the way Mor’s eyes flick toward her.
“You never go out anymore,” the blonde mutters as she turns back to her own plate.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassian questions.
“I’m merely pointing out that we used to go out often, and now we really don’t.”
“Nes and I just prefer quiet nights in.”
“It doesn’t always have to be a we. I’m sure Nesta can let you out for one night of drinks.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. The whole dining room goes pin drop silent, everyone watching carefully, eyes darting between Mor and Cassian. Cassian’s grip on his fork tightens, his knuckles going white, and Nesta reaches a hand out toward his thigh under the table, a cautious, comforting weight.
A breath passes. Two. And then Cassian is standing up abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the hardwood floors.
“We’re leaving,” Cassian declares.
“Cassian,” Rhysand cuts in, ever the peacekeeper. “I’m sure that Mor didn’t mean—”
“I know exactly what she meant,” Cassian interrupts with a quiet growl. “I know what all of you say, all of you think, and we’re leaving. Nes?”
Cassian turns toward Nesta, holding his hand out in silent offering. She doesn’t have to think twice, sliding her palm against his and letting him gently tug her to her feet. They walk out of the dining room and the house hand in hand, and then Cassian is scooping Nesta up and flying them back to the House of Wind. The sun has long since set, and Nesta watches as the lights of the city twinkle below them.
When they land back on the balcony, Cassian heads for the kitchen and Nesta pads into their bedroom. She makes quick work of taking down her up do and re-braiding her hair more comfortably for sleep. She changes into a nightgown and is just slipping under the blankets when Cassian returns with a mug of tea in each hand. Nesta takes one of the mugs from his outstretched hands gratefully, but as she blows on the steaming liquid, she finds herself sighing softly, mind still drawn back to the evening’s earlier events.
“I’m sorry,” Nesta murmurs, taking a small sip.
“For what?” Cassian asks from where he’s changing near their wardrobe.
Nesta settles him with an unimpressed look. “For dinner.”
Cassian’s brow furrows and then he’s padding over to the bed, slipping in beside Nesta. “You have nothing to apologize for. Mor should apologize. To you.”
“I just—”
Before Nesta can even finish her thought, Cassian presses a finger to her lips, effectively cutting her off. She rolls her eyes at the gesture, but that just has Cassian’s smile growing in amusement. When he’s sure that Nesta isn’t going to try and speak again, he shifts his arms to wrap around her waist, tugging her down and against him so they’re tangled together beneath the blankets, their noses just a hairsbreadth apart.
“I don’t care,” Cassian promises her, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “I don’t care what anyone says or anyone thinks. All I care about is you, us. That I get to hold you like this every night and that you’re the first thing I see every morning.”
“You’re incredibly sappy, did you know that?”
“You like it.”
Nesta rolls over to her other side, hiding her smile into her pillow. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
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The Viscount Who Loved Me {Eighteen Part I}
TVWLM Masterlist
An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.
Written alongside @snelbz
Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain - Feyre x Rhysand - Elain x Azriel x Gwyn
Summary: (see TVWLM masterlist!)
A/N: Thank you for reading! I can't believe we have only 3 chapters "left" to post...This chapter also had to be split into two...
Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)
Dear People of the Ton,
With the social season coming to a close, I wonder if the Queen's beloved Diamond will secure a match? With one sister in social banishment and the other just broken at the altar...that poor family simply cannot deal with any more scandal.
Time's running out, Archerons.
The Suriel
It had been five days since Elain left Cassian at the altar. Five days that Nesta had not seen Elain, save for once the following morning when she’d tried to speak to her, only to have the door slammed in her face. After that, she’d given Elain all the space she wanted, avoiding her at all costs, taking her meals in her rooms.
But this morning, Nesta needed to get out of her bedroom. The floral wallpaper lining the room had started to look less elegant and more sinister. She’d noticed thorns in the pattern she’d never seen before and could have sworn some of the roses were coated in blood. It was only her eyes playing tricks on her, thanks to how little sleep she’d been getting, but she sat in the dining room, a plate of fresh fruit, eggs, and bacon before her.
She had just speared a piece of cantaloupe on her fork when two sets of footsteps approached the room. One of them halted as they walked in.
Glancing up, she saw Feyre striding towards her, taking the seat across from her, but then she looked to the door.
Elain was frozen, her jaw locked, hands fisted at her sides. She wasn’t looking at Nesta, she was staring at the marbled floor, which hurt even more.
Her sister couldn’t even bear to look at her.
Nesta looked at Feyre, who nodded with a small smile, before asking, “Elain, would you care to join us?”
Elain took a deep breath before entering and quietly sitting next to Feyre. She filled her plate without a word.
“It has been a good week,” Feyre began, simply, grasping on to any hope of conversation. “The ladies say there has been minimal gossip, and it has all been toward Lord Nazari. Elain has not been in the crossfire much.”
Nesta eyed Elain, but she showed no expression.
“That’s good,” Nesta said, clearing her throat. “I actually have heard from my sources, as well, that there are multiple suitors with their eye on Elain this season, even though it is nearing its end. Including Lord Vanserra.”
Feyre lifted a brow. “Eris?”
Nesta shook her head. “The youngest, Lucien. I believe he is Elain’s age.”
Feyre nodded, thoughtfully. “Ah, I believe I met him months ago during a promenade with the Prince.”
“I hear he’s very kind,” Nesta said, and tried to give Elain a smile.
She was staring at her plate. “I would appreciate it if you two did not speak of me as if I am not here.”
Nesta’s body tensed, but she nodded. “Of course. Apologies. As I was saying—”
“I no longer need your help, Nesta,” Elain said, stabbing a strawberry with a little bit too much force. “I am perfectly capable of securing my own match.”
You wanted Cassian although I objected, and we all witnessed how that turned out. Even as she thought it, Nesta felt guilty…no matter how true it was.
“Elain and I will both be attending the ball tomorrow evening,” Feyre said, as if to steer the conversation in a lighter direction. “Will you be joining us, Nesta?”
Nesta eyed Elain once more, and this time her sister was watching her, waiting for her answer. Her lips were pressed together, eyes hard. She had never seen Elain so angry, and to know all of that anger was directed at her only broke her heart. “No,” she said, and that heartbreak only grew when she saw the relief sag Elain’s shoulders. “No, I will be packing.”
Now Elain froze.
As did Feyre. “Packing?”
“I’ll be going to Adriata first thing Sunday,” she explained, pushing the fruit around on her plate. “It is one of the many stops I will make on my travels. I am going to see which corner of Prythian calls to me.”
For a moment, each of her sisters were silent. Feyre said, “But you love Velaris.”
“I do,” Nesta agreed, her breakfast feeling heavy in her stomach. “However, as already mentioned, I am needed here no longer. Feyre, you are the Diamond. I know of multiple suitors that are ready and willing to make an offer of engagement. And, as I said before, Elain has choices, as well. I have no doubt that you both will find your matches before the season is finished. It is simply time for me to move on.”
The silence grew, becoming almost uncomfortable. Nesta picked up her fork once more, but nearly dropped it against her plate when Elain asked, “When will you return?”
Eyes on her food, Nesta swallowed roughly. “I’m not sure. I plan to visit each court at least once, and if I find my home along the way, so be it.”
She could hear the unspoken words radiating off of her sisters.
Velaris is your home.
But it wasn’t, not anymore. Not after what had happened, what she’d caused, what she’d done.
“Then you must come to the ball,” Feyre said, and Nesta finally looked at them across the table. They both were dressed and ready for the day, hair perfectly styled and cosmetics applied with an expert hand. She still wore her dressing gown, her hair piled on her head and not a stitch of makeup on her face.
“I have too much to do,” she argued.
“Feyre is right,” Elain said, clearing her throat. She cut into the pastry on her plate. “If it is indeed your last night in Velaris, we must properly send you off.”
She couldn’t bear it, knew who would be there. She hasn’t seen Cassian since he’d kissed her and she’d asked him to meet her after the ball in the woods beside his home. It had almost been a week and she hadn’t decided whether or not that was a foolish decision on her part. She also hadn’t decided if she were indeed going to meet him.
“I have nothing to wear,” Nesta said at last, and it wasn’t a lie. She’d already had all of her gowns packed and stored. She wouldn’t be needing them on the road.
It was Feyre who snorted. “You act like you don’t have two sisters of similar build.”
Nesta glanced between the two of them and down to her ample…assets. Yes, they were all roughly the same size when it came to their waist, but Nesta was nearly three inches taller than Elain and neither of them were as well endowed as she was when it came to her breasts.
“We can find you something in one of our closets, I’m sure,” Feyre said, smiling, and then nudged their sister with her elbow. “Right, Elain?”
Elain sighed, the rigidness in her body deflating as she said, “Yes. Of course.”
Nesta nodded, although nerves filled her body. She wasn’t sure if it was because she would be seeing Cassian or spending a whole evening in Elain’s presence, or if it was because it was the first social event they would be attending since the failed wedding. Nonetheless, her chest felt heavy, her stomach churned, and suddenly eating breakfast hadn’t seemed like such a good idea.
<.>
Elain had to get away.
She was feeling nervous about the ball, although most of the ton did seem to only frown upon Cassian for the incident. Yet, she was still embarrassed about the whole thing and feared showing her face at such a large social event.
So she went into town for a new pair of gloves, and took the long way home. She asked her driver to stop by the Sidra so that she could feed the ducks, which is what she was doing now as she sat alone on the grassy banks.
Until she heard his voice.
“Miss Elain?”
She looked over her shoulder to find Azriel, making the finery of his apparel seem casual as his hands rested in his pockets. He gave her a small smile.
“Lord Azriel,” she said, and returned his smile with one of her own. “A pleasant surprise.”
He nodded to the grass next to her. “May I join you?”
She did not hesitate. “Of course.”
He nodded as he plopped down in the grass and stretched out his legs, leaning back on his hands. She remembered the first time she had seen his hands, scarred with so many stories to tell. She thought they had been beautiful then, just as she did now.
“How are you?” he asked, after a moment. Usually, it would be such a simple question, but this time it was loaded.
She laughed quietly as she shook her head. “Would you like the honest answer or the one I have given to everyone else?”
“The honest one,” he said, without a thought. “Always.”
Her smile was soft as she looked down at the ground, but he watched it fall. She plucked a blade of grass and ran it between her fingers. “I am…okay. Which I know seems like I’m lying, but I’m not.” Pausing, she pulled another blade from the ground, dropping this one, and ripping out one more. “I won’t say that I’m not hurt, because I am, by both my sister and Lord Cassian, but I also can’t blame them. The way they look at each other, I don’t know how I was so blind to it for so long. It’s clear that they love each other and I cannot begrudge them that.”
Azriel watched her silently, listening to every word. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, even as the tears slowly started to slip down her cheeks.
“And I did not love him and he did not love me. Maybe one day, we could have grown to love each other, but as it stands, I think…” She turned, finding his gaze. “I think I just wanted to be loved so badly that I took the attention of the first man who offered it to me.” Shaking her head, she sniffled once. “You must think it’s silly of me to still dream of marrying for love.”
“On the contrary,” Azriel murmured and when his warm hand covered hers, forcing her to quit picking the grass, she looked into his face again. “I think marrying for love is the goal everyone in the ton should have.”
She gave him a soft smile, one that actually reached her eyes. She nudged him with her shoulder. “Maybe I should marry you instead.”
Azriel’s body tensed, but Elain was laughing, quietly. A joke. It was just a joke. He told his body to relax, although now he could not, because the thought…
No, Azriel would never marry. He never thought himself to be a good husband, never thought himself to be the type to marry.
And it had been a joke.
Just a joke.
Azriel forced himself to chuckle. “Yes, what a pair we would be.”
“Indeed,” Elain agreed, and smiled at him. She patted his hand. “Whatever woman is lucky enough to have you, Azriel, is blessed, indeed. You are a kind soul. You have been my saving grace this season and I thank you.”
He was not sure how to handle her compliment. Everything in him melted at her words, but he would not show it. He simply nodded his head in appreciation and said, “Thank you, Elain. You have been that for me, too. And, for what it is worth, I believe you will find the soul in which yours loves. You will find that happiness.”
Her eyes shone again, and she squeezed his hand. Her words were hardly more than a whisper as she said, “Thank you, Azriel. Truly.”
He smiled, then looked back over the Sidra. The ducks were swimming near their feet, the sun bright and sparkling across the water, but he saw none of it. All he could focus on were those words.
Maybe I should marry you instead.
<.>
After everything that had happened, Rhysand knew that he could not stand by and have Feyre be hurt by their last encounter. Whether he could marry her or not, the last thing he wanted was for her to hate him, and he had acted like a complete ass.
The hurt in her eyes when they departed, when he spewed those hateful words, were all that he could focus on since the day on the river. Even with all that had happened, all he could focus on was the last time he’d had her alone, when he had completely broken her heart.
If Cassian had taught him anything in the last week, it was that life was fragile. Those you cared about deserved to know where they stood.
And, despite everything, he truly cared for Feyre, more than he had ever cared for anyone before.
With a few hours left before the ball, he strode up to the Archeron manor and knocked on the door. The doorman opened it a minute later and bowed. “Good evening, your Grace.”
“Good evening,” Rhysand replied, politely. “I was hoping to speak with Miss Feyre. It’s urgent.”
He nodded and let Rhysand in, leading him up to the sitting room where he plopped down on the couch, alone.
The waiting was agonizing.
After a moment of sitting, he stood to pace but then he felt foolish, pacing in a home that was not his, so he sat back down and twiddled his thumbs.
Feyre entered ten minutes later, alone. Rhysand expected a maid or someone to be with her, but no one was. He was grateful for it. Now, he could speak freely.
“Hello,” Rhysand said, lamely, as he stood. He added, “Good evening.”
Feyre didn’t laugh at his discomfort as she once would have, did not find it charming. “Good evening, your Grace.”
He flinched at his formal title coming from her lips. “I was worried you would be getting ready for this evening. I was worried you would not come.”
“When my doorman says there is a guest here for me, I respect them enough to show,” she replied.
They stood so far apart. The distance made his heart ache.
“What do you want, your Grace?” she asked. He did not ignore the harshness of her tone.
“I wanted to apologize,” he stated.
Feyre jolted, only slightly, her body language changing just enough for Rhysand to catch it. “For what, pray tell?”
He longed to cross the room, to get rid of the distance between them, but he could see the fire still in her eyes. He knew approaching her right now would not end well for him, or his balls, so instead, he tried to reason with her. “Feyre, I—”
“Don’t.” She took a step towards him, whether she realized it or not, and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare think you can come in here and act like nothing happened that day.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do. Feyre, I’m sorry.” He took a chance and stepped closer, waiting to see if she’d retreat. She stood her ground. “I don’t have words to tell you how sorry I am. The things I said to you were abhorrent and I had no reason to, save for fear of losing the promise I’d made to myself. Instead, I broke a different promise. I hurt you, and I cannot even begin to apologize or make things right.”
Feyre said nothing. She simply stared at him, chin raised high.
“I have thought of nothing since,” he went on. He took another step forward. She still did not move. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you crying; and every time I am awake, I long to run to you.” He shook his head. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, containing those emotions within her slim frame. “I was a fool. Am a fool. Feyre, I have spent so many years resenting my father. I hated him, and if I’m being honest, I still do, even all these years after his death. I loathe my last name. I hate that I share his blood. I have sheltered myself for so long to get back at him that I have forgotten what it is like to feel.” He took another step closer. Feyre did not move. “But you made me feel. You made me feel everything. You made me feel what I feared I would always feel for someone, because it meant that keeping that promise, that vow, to my father…” his words fell off and he sighed. “I’m conflicted. And I know that is no excuse, for there is no excuse for the words I said that I can’t take back, but that is how I feel.”
Feyre’s eyes welled with tears, but she did not balk away from him. Her posture did not waver, her chin did not dip. “And how is it that you truly feel, your Grace?”
Her words were hard, clipped, filled with so much emotion that Rhysand felt his heart being grabbed and twisted. “I care for you. I have cared for you since the moment I met you, since your sassy tongue fought against my every word, since I danced with you and kissed you and held you close. Feyre, I—“
His words quieted and a tear fell down her cheek. “You can’t even say it,” she breathed.
“Letting that truth see the light of day would do nothing but hurt us both,” he said, reaching for her. As his fingers grazed her skin, he expected her to jerk back, to tell him to get out, but she didn’t. He took her fingers in his and a tremor ran through her at his touch. “Admitting the truth to you will change nothing. I still cannot marry you, Feyre, no matter how much my heart may cry out for you.”
Cursing himself, he watched as fresh tears ran down her face, yet she still let him hold her hand. “You truly hate your father more than you love me,” she breathed, and it wasn’t a question.
Rhysand hung his head, hatred coursing through his veins. He didn’t know why he went to Feyre’s, didn’t know why he was standing before her now. He was only causing them both further anguish.
Because the truth of the matter was yes, he loved her. He was so madly in love with her that his body ached when he wasn’t around her. He only dreamt of her, and longed to be around her from the minute he woke up until the second he closed his eyes for the night. He thought of no other woman, didn’t even look another woman’s way. And if he did, none compared. She was his everything.
But this vow to his father…
He had made it when his father was dying. They were the last words Rhysand ever spoke to his father. It was all he cared about, every social season, since the day his father died.
Until now.
“You don’t understand,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze, even though her hand remained in his.
“Then help me understand,” she said, and her voice broke.
Rhysand looked up at her and everything within him disintegrated. He couldn’t help her understand because he didn’t understand it himself. All he knew was how he felt, even if those feelings made no sense.
He cupped her face and dropped his forehead against hers. “All you need to understand is how I long for you, Feyre. You have completely and utterly consumed me.”
Her eyes closed, another tear falling and he wiped it away before pressing his lips softly against the spot on her cheek where the tear had fallen.
She trembled beneath him. “I loathe you,” she whispered, but there was no bite in it. It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself.
It was okay.
He loathed himself, too.
“I want you to find a husband,” he said, their foreheads together, Feyre’s fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. “I want you to find someone who will cherish you, and respect you, and love you as you should be loved. I want you to find someone who worships you. You do not deserve this, what I have put you through, and I will never forgive myself for it. Find someone better than I.”
Feyre shook her head as she leaned back and met his eye. Agony. It was agony in her stare. It was heartbreak, torment, grief. It ripped Rhysand’s soul to shreds until there was nothing left. “I loathe you,” she repeated, and her grip of his clothes tightened. “But I would not trade a day with you for anything. Every minute was worth it, even if we can never be.”
“Feyre—”
She kissed him. At the touch of her lips, Rhysand’s body tensed, but it quickly relaxed and he swept her into his arms. One hand went to the back of her head, the other around her waist, holding her body up against his. That kiss deepend, and every ounce of Rhysand’s self control went with it.
Feyre’s hands dove into Rhysand’s hair, holding him to her as tightly as she could. As he tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth, she whimpered and he let himself memorize the sound. As his tongue swept through her mouth, he memorized the taste of her. As his hand splayed out over her lower back, running down over the swell of her ass, he memorized the feel of her. He wished it could be like this all the time, that he could kiss her as freely as he wished, that he could give her the future she dreamed. The future she deserved.
But that wasn’t possible.
Tearing his lips from hers, Rhysand breathed, “I should go. You need to get ready for the ball.”
Her hands remained in his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I do.” She pulled his face back to hers, lips barely brushing. “Will you be there?”
His eyes fluttered shut and he resisted the urge to shake his head. If he did, his lips would be back on hers and he would be lost in her again. “Probably not, but you should—”
The door opened, but there was no time to jump apart.
Both of their heads whipped around to see Nesta perfectly still in the doorway, brows raised. She looked from their mouths that were nearly together, to Feyre’s arms around his neck, to Rhysand’s hands on her ass.
She blinked.
Then said, “I heard we had a visitor.”
Feyre stepped back and Rhysand’s hands slowly fell to his sides. “Apologies, Miss Archeron, we were just—“
“Oh, I think it’s perfectly obvious what you were doing,” Nesta said, looking between them. “And it seems this is not the first time, is it? I had a hunch of where my sister would go in the middle of the night. It seems my hunch was correct.”
Feyre hesitated, but it was Rhysand who said, “What we have done is none of your concern, with all due respect.”
“Incorrect,” she said, and apparently it was the wrong thing to say because her eyes were now ablaze. “You see, it is my duty to marry my sisters, to find them husbands, and judging by the comfort you held in holding my sister’s assets, I am forced to believe that this little dalliance has gone beyond simple stolen kisses. I hope you realize and accept, your Grace, that it is now your duty to marry my sister.”
The room fell silent. Each of Nesta’s words were clipped, hard, directed to make an impact. Rhysand couldn’t breathe. Stupid, he was so incredibly ignorant. Feyre looked at him but said nothing.
“Truly?” Nesta scoffed. “Nothing to say for yourselves?”
“Rhys and I will not be getting married.” Feyre’s voice was just a whisper but it cut through Rhysand like a knife.
To his surprise, Nesta laughed. There was nothing joyful in it, but her laughter filled the room and Rhysand’s body tensed. “Oh, you will marry. There is not a noble man in this city that will take a defiled bride. He claimed you, he will marry you and I will hear no more of it.”
“Nesta—“
“If neither of you wanted marriage, you should have thought wiser before putting your hands and whatever else where they do not belong,” she snapped. “Viscount Lunasa, you will take my sister as your wife if you have any moral bone in your body. I know you are a gentleman. You must follow your duties as one. Now, I will kindly ask you to leave our home. We will make a plan to soon announce your engagement to the ton. Good day, your Grace.”
“Miss Archeron—“
“Good day,” she hissed, and Rhysand bowed his head in dismissal before glancing once more at Feyre. Her eyes were wide and she looked conflicted, so conflicted and panicked and scared. Rhysand couldn’t bear it.
He left, and when he did, he felt nearly worse than when he had arrived.
<.>
Feyre hadn’t spoken to her the entire carriage ride over. Elain hadn’t either, but that was to be expected. They had followed through on their promise to find Nesta a dress and it was absolutely stunning. She looked down at the shimmering dove grey fabric and sighed.
Her last ball in Velaris and she couldn’t wait to leave. The dancing and drinking and faked pleasantries had become taxing and she didn’t know at what point that had happened. The only thing on her mind was seeing Cassian one last time.
Well, that and the fact that she’d caught Rhysand and Feyre in a very intimate situation.
Her blood boiled, thinking of the audacity of Rhysand Lunasa. First, he’d ruined her reputation, rejecting her in her own social season. And now he’d not only sullied reputation but her body. He was a damnation to the Archeron family, but at least he would be a respectable match for Feyre to the rest of the ton. No one knew what had conspired between the two of them and Nesta would do whatever it took to make sure no one ever did.
Which meant Rhysand would marry Feyre.
As a server walked by, she saw that he carried a tray of red wine, usually reserved for the mama’s and lords. The women were expected to drink water, lemonade, or punch, but tonight, Nesta didn’t really give a damn. With a wave, she snagged the man’s attention and she took a glass with a smile. He hesitated, but she didn’t wait for him to say anything, walking away and up the stairs at the back of the grand ballroom.
Pausing halfway up, she looked around the expansive room. Elain was easily spotted, surrounded by not only the young ladies of the ton, eager to hear about what had happened with Lord Nazari, but also quite a few eligible young lords. The truth of Elain and Cassian’s broken engagement had not come to light, and although rumors ran rampant, none had come close to the truth. Aside from that, Nesta didn’t bother listening to them.
But then her eyes found Feyre.
Speaking to Rhysand Lunasa.
Her fingers tightened around her wine glass and she started down the stairs, going to demand that he either propose then and there or leave her sister alone until he was prepared to man up to his decisions.
But then she heard a familiar voice behind.
“Miss Archeron. How’s my former Diamond?”
Nesta spun around, a few drops from the wine glass sloshing over the edge from the hasty move. She quickly curtsied to Queen Amarantha. “Good evening, your Majesty. I am well. How are you?”
Her smile was sinister. “Lovely. It seems it has been a successful social season.” She glanced at the lords and ladies who danced with one another. “Has it not?”
Nesta nearly hesitated. She rarely hesitated, but this woman sent chills down her spine. “Yes, your Majesty, a very successful social season.”
Queen Amarantha’s brow rose. She watched Nesta with pure scrutiny for a moment before she added, “And yet, my dear, my Diamond has not secured a match…and with only one social event of the season left, might I add. I do hope I did not choose another Archeron only to find disappointment.”
Another. Because Nesta had been the first. She had disappointed the Queen, had shamed herself in front of the ton, and had made a mockery of her family. Elain, poor Elain, had not only one public heartbreak, but now two. Anxiety coursed throughout Nesta’s body as she stood under the stare of her Queen.
Perhaps that was the reason why she blurted, “Expect an announcement soon, your Majesty, for Feyre has found a husband, indeed.”
Queen Amarantha’s shocked expression only lasted for a moment before pure joy flashed across her face. “Truly? To whom?” She looked out over the crowd and found Feyre, who was still talking with Rhysand in hushed tones. Amarantha’s eyes swiveled back to Nesta. “Are you to tell me that someone has at last charmed the Viscount?”
“On the contrary, your Majesty, I think it is his Grace that has charmed my sister.” She looked down at the two of them. The conversation they were having was tense, but they continued to gravitate towards each other, always seeming to find each other. Nesta didn’t know how she’d managed to miss it all season long. “We were waiting to announce it, after all of Elain’s…excitement last week.”
Excitement. The most ridiculous way to explain what had taken place, but she wasn’t inviting conversation about it. With a silent prayer to the Cauldron, Nesta prayed that the queen would let it drop; she wasn’t prepared to lie about what had happened between she, Cassian, and Elain.
With a wave of her hand, Queen Amarantha cooed, “Nonsense. This is cause for celebration.”
Nesta hadn’t noticed the glass in her hand, but her heart stopped as the queen raised it up into the air and clinked her ring against it once, twice, three times. The entire room fell as silent as Nesta’s head, everyone turning towards their queen. From where they stood on the stairs, there wasn’t a single person who couldn’t see them.
Including Feyre and Rhysand.
“Good people of Velaris, I have exciting news,” Queen Amarantha called, voice carrying through the room. “Our Diamond has found her husband.” Even from across the ballroom, Nesta could see Feyre’s eyes widen and Rhysand’s darken. Both were settled on her. “I’m happy to announce that Miss Feyre Archeron will be marrying his Grace, the Viscount, Lord Rhysand Lunasa.”
There were shocked gasps and applause as people, which Queen Amarantha basked in. She waited as everyone turned toward the happy couple, offering congratulations or surprised glances, before adding, “In celebration of their union, the crown will take care of everything for the upcoming nuptials.”
Feyre and Rhysand couldn’t even pretend to be happy. Feyre was in shock, unable to form a complete thought, and Rhysand continued to stare daggers into her.
They were swarmed with people as the band continued to play, surely all of them giving their congratulations, and Nesta took that as her chance to flee.
If it wasn’t enough for one sister to hate her, the other one may as well, too.
She hurried out of the manor and to where her carriage awaited. She could send the driver back for her sisters but not before she got where she needed to go.
She needed to leave Velaris, needed to leave this life that had brought nothing but pain to those around her.
Before she left, however, she had to see him, even if it was just to say goodbye.
____________________________________________________________
@mariamuses @photofeesh @the-regal-warrior @gracie-rosee @irisofink @strawberries-and-reveries @zeppelin-and-unicorns @live-the-fangirl-life @cassianscool @clacings @argentumstella @cuppamelia @chillspritecranberry @emilyrose111294 @awesomelena555 @gengen64 @dontbenddontbreak @blueunoias @liliput2203 @sleeping-and-books @kindofawalkingpoem @thebitchydonutcollector @shedoessoshedoes @cretaceous-therapod @emily-gsh @annie-laur @impossiblehistoryofquotes @midnightrose-reader @beanl1 @shniya-hiiragi @towhateverend87 @deezrmuhsheeple @pintas3107 @sarcasm-is-the-best-insult @santkazoya @lady-winter-sunrise @themoonthestarsthesuriel @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @sv0430 @dreammoutlouddd @katlady13 @lokisllama @mrspettyferr @missannieshay @live-the-fangirl-life @headinclouds48 @secretlycressdarnel @awesomethreedragons @lokisllama @littlehoneyybee @vicioux @cest-la-vieve @lokisllama @thewinterroza @aching-for-distance
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✨Masterlist✨
My Ao3
My fic blog: @merymoonbeamwrites
Elriel parallels masterlist
Elriel crumbs in acosf
Elriel Solstice Fanart
Offer and Permission—the importance of consent for sarah
Would a mate know, would a mate feel—(elriel mate theory)
Wild hunt-Fionn-First Gods-Ramiel stone-The Void-Truth teller
A tool of Creation-Cauldron-Book of breathings
Light and Dark-elriel
Prison-wild hunt
Fionn - more of an analysis
Narben is a spear??
Koschei's death-Harp
Antlers - Fourth Dread Trove
Shadows and seer - Fionn - Elriel
Koschei's box
Ramiel stone - meteor
Rose bloom in a mud field-Elain-the middle
Völuspá-Elain theory
Seidr - Swan lake - Elain - Vassa
I had to give me up - Elain Prison Theory
Answering Heartbeat - Bryce - Elain
With a blink(elriel mating bond theory) > follow up post between them
“Through love, all is possible”(elriel mate theory)
Roses?Bread? And how it relates to Elain > follow up post for some peace and quiet(elriel)
Did sarah sink Elriel in the bonus chapter?
Six pointed star—TT scene—Starsword and TT—three sisters and three brothers
Sing me—Starsword—Truthteller
Mystics & Seers(comparing) and The Void
Azriel’s shadows and the Fourth dread trove
Elriel vs Elucien(comparing scenes)
TT scene and answering plea—Elain.
Importance of TT scene
Light’s Rebirth through Darkness
A thing of secret lovely beauty—and how it relates to Elain and Gwyn
Elain and Feyre parallel—child
The story of the headache powder—Elriel
Snowball fight in acosf and how it affects elriel
Elain not being afraid of TT like other fae
Alpha & Omega(elriel theory)
the Morrigan Part I and Part II.
Why gwyn and azriel book doesn’t make sense with sarah’s interviews
Gwyn’s song and Cauldron’s song(lightsinger theory)
Azriel bonus chapter “settled/settling”(Lightsinger theory)
Azriel’s Bonus Chapter “glowed quietly”(Lightsinger theory)
Acosf Chapter 52 - Lightsinger Theory-Sirens
Glow=Power(lightsinger theory)
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The Curse of Monkey Island | Part 2
Last time, Guybrush made it to the shore of an island and Elaine was turned to gold by the cursed diamond ring he used to propose to her. Now we need to explore this new island and hopefully find a way to help her in Part II.
The Curse Gets Worse.
Time to start exploring the island and figure out where we are! That's an easy one thanks to a handy sign right there.
"Welcome to Puerto Pollo, from the Plunder Island Poultry Brotherhood."
On the right side of the beach there is also a chicken and a plaque.
"Plunder Island Feral Chicken. One of Plunder Island's most common fauna , and the animal for which our capital of Puerto Pollo is named."
While here on the beach, I scooped up a burning ember from the bit of torched boat wreckage. While on the topic of inventory, I also forgot to mention that the cutlass got lost when the ship capsized.
At the broken bridge heading to the fort there's also a secret button you can press to make one of the fort's cannons fire. Completely pointless, but fun.
There are two routes out of here. One takes you to the overworld map of the island and the other takes you to the location where you actually need to go next. You can go straight to that location and I've often done so, but it's fun to see the island first, so this time I went for the map first.
And here we have Plunder Island! Not every location can be reached yet. For now there's the ship wreckage in the swamp--saving that for the moment, the beach we're at, the town and another beach.
I headed into town for a bit of exploration first and look for help with the curse. Entering the town starts you off at a lemonade stand though it's not open yet. The kid there doesn't have much to tell you but to see the lady over in Plunder Swamp.
Next to his stand is Blondebeard's Chicken Shop and walk-thru. There are a few notable things between these two spots:
vats of red dye
the sign pointing to Danjer Cover
Jungle plants blocking the route to Danjer Cove
Flowers and another plaque talking about ipecac flowers.
"A syrup made from the ipecac flowers was used by the early settlers of Plunder Island as a purgative."
And finally a flyer that can be read or grabbed and read:
"Feeling down 'cause your chick's turned to gold? Come to the swamp! Get your fortune told! Voodoo 'n' Things (Formerly Just Voodoo. Visit our new location on Plunder Island.)"
Basically this whole part, if you choose to wander around, is just herding you to the swamp. But it's nice to see the place while some very lowkey chill banjo music plays.
Onward to the town square.
In the bottom corner is the Barbery Coast, a barber shop, also closed right now, and knocking on the door leads to Guybrush asking for help, only to get told to go see the Voodoo Lady.
There's also a theatre with a banner advertising their upcoming show, "Speare". The clock can be examined and gives the time based off your computer clock which is cute.
I wandered off to end up at the Brimstone Beach Club and Smorgy.
Only to also be told to go see the Voodoo Lady.
With that quick introduction to the town, it was time to listen and go to the swamp.
Where there's a building formed out of a ship wreckage and! Importantly! Our ol' pal, Murray. Trying to be scary. As he does. Not doing a great job of it. As he also does.
He tries to dramatically warn Guybrush not to go further into the swamp--"Turn back! Turn back! Darkness will envelop you!" But it's very difficult to take Murray seriously, so things just turn to more conversation about things such as how he got up there--"sheer force of will." No, some weird voodoo kids found him and stuck him up there. Now he stands hangs as a testament to the forces of Evil that will one day be victorious over the earth. Actually, he's mostly just very bored, poor fellow.
Guybrush asks if he knows anything about lifting curses--hey been asking everyone else--to which he gets a very sarcastic response from the skull...stuck on a spike... in the middle of a swamp. Yeah.
Murray does actually apologize for his little outburst; it's been a long day. There's nothing more to be done with him--he can't be carried sadly--so it was onto the presumable Voodoo Lady's home in the shipwreck there.
And there it is with a stuffed alligator with an unusually long tongue, a bottle of paste on the floor along with some paper voodoo dolls, one of which has a pin stuck in it. And on the counter we've got a gum machine. Pack of gum for 5 cents.
The pin and paste can both be taken. I thought I mostly remembered the differences between normal difficulty and mega-monkey but apparently not as when I double checked a detail the paste is only in mega-monkey, but it does get used a few times, so huh. I could have sworn one of the things that needed it was in the normal difficulty. It has been a long time since I played normal.
A wooden nickel can be used with the machine to get a packet of gum: Admiral Sweetums Bit-o-Jerky bubblegum. Tasty...?
Then I pulled the alligator's tongue. How often do you get to say that?
A pulley type contraption pulls up a chair and the Voodoo Lady. There are a couple options to find out who she is if you haven't played the past two games as she's a recurring character. She's helped out in both the previous games.
I dove in with "Boy, have I got some stories to tell you!"
She tried to retreat from Guybrush's storytelling, but Guybrush relented and moved on to explain what happened with Elaine and the curse and ask for help. She's willing to help but first, where did he hide the solid gold statue of his girlfriend on an island full of pirates?
Oops.
We get a scene of Guybrush having to...go... do something unrelated and run back to the beach, but it's too late. Elaine's been taken by pirates...
And then he returns to the Voodoo Lady for more help.
Now, in Guybrush's defence, I don't know how he could have hidden Elaine. It's not like he could have moved her. If you try picking her up, he even says she must weigh a ton. Stuck in the middle of a beach, there weren't a lot of options. Guybrush may make plenty of mistakes, but I think he can catch a break on this one.
Regardless, the Voodoo Lady suspects Elaine's been stolen by the mangy pirates anchored in Danjer Cove. So, we'll have to find a way there to get her back and break the curse.
As for the curse itself, a diamond ring of equal or greater value needs to replace the cursed one. There are legends of a 'whopping big diamond ring on Blood Island.' Unfortunately, Blood Island is the place where she's foreseen that Guybrush. will die. Uh oh. Guybrush, naturally, has a bit of a freakout about this, but that ring's worth comes from its emotional significance--there are none like it. So, we''ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.
And to get to Blood Island I'll need to find three things: map, ship and crew.
And thus we have our goals for now. And there's some other information to get from her, some just silly stuff, and some a little more important like:
El Pollo Diablo! The Giant Demon Chicken. It stalks the jungles of Plunder Island seeking revenge for its eaten brethren. Guybrush doesn't take it seriously or believe in it, but it's information worth keeping.
I headed back out to do one last task before leaving the swamp.
Now, the paste can be used with the skeleton arm. There is no point in using the paste with the skeleton arm right now, however, you can show it to Murray for a reaction, as it used to be his arm, so what more reason do you need anyway? He's grossed out by it. "Oh, ick."
"You are a sad, strange, little man."
But you can give him a piece of gum too! That's...like a peace offering, right? And he'll blow bubbles with it.
I went back to the beach and Elaine's absence. There were footprints in the sand now, until you examine them and realize that, no, they're actually handprints. How odd. Or as Guybrush puts it: "Those pirates in Danjer Cove walk on their hands? Weird!"
There was also another of those handy informative signs where Elaine was.
"Untitled Composition in Gold and Diamond. This newest addition to our public works of art was shamefully taken without authorization."
The Plunder Island Naturalist Society moves fast! Assuming they're also responsible for the art plaques too. This is also something I don't think I saw until later play-throughs as, unless you miss the ember, there's no real reason to ever come back here.
Something else I didn't really notice until a much more recent play was that the chickens around the fort vary in number and arrangement whenever you come back. It's the fun details!
Now that I have concrete goals, it was back to really exploring the island and properly getting to meet the locals instead of being funneled to the swamp.
I went into town landing at the lemonade stand first, which is run by the kid, Kenny Falmouth. He's selling lemonade for a nickel and has a bottomless mug policy. Wow! What a deal! Of course I wanted some lemonade.
He poured some and 'bottomless mug' indeed. Guybrush went to drink and discovered the lack of bottom, but Kenny did say! And no refunds! No lemonade to drink, just gotta eat that loss.
As we saw, past him is a sign pointing out the route to Danjer Cove, which sure would be great for finding those pirates and Elaine, but there's too much undergrowth blocking the path, so we'll need a way to clear that.
Blondebeard's Chicken Shop is now open!
But a reservation is needed to actually come in, so I got booted back outside.
In the town square there's the theatre and the barbershop. Now, you can't enter the theatre through the front entrance, however there is a side entrance.
That takes us into a prop room with lots of stuff to look at and interact with. The stage can also be entered from here and you can go upstairs, but investigation comes first.
Some items of note or amusement, though there are more things than this to look at:
Donkey Mask: You can't do anything with it, but if you try to pick it up: "I don't want to look like a jackass." Guybrush turns to camera: "Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. So knock it off!"
Mirror: "I wonder if there's a part in this play for... a dashing rogue pirate!"
Magic wand: It's a magic wand. You can scoop it up. "Watch me make THIS disappear."
Magic hat: It's empty. Or is it?
Use the magic wand with the hat!
And it makes a book appear in the hat: 'The A-mfggh-C's of Ventriloquism'. Grab that too! It's a fun item that has several optional uses beyond what it will be needed for.
Travel Trunk: Has a sticker on it from Blood Island! So there's a possibility that the owner knows how to get there.
Pirate Coat: A nice coat with "just a few flakes of unsightly dandruff." There's also a sneaky pocket. In Mega-Monkey mode it's closed and more easily missable than in normal where it's open putting the item in the pocket on clear display. Open the pocket to reveal a glove which I took.
Dandruff: ...is wiggling. It's lice. Lice that is going straight into the inventory? Why? Because it will be needed and because we can. If you talk to them "So, which one of you is the head louse?" Once you've picked up the lice, if you examine the coat again, he changes his comment to "It's a de-loused pirate coat."
I went upstairs to find the light controls.
However, without instructions there's nothing to be done with them right now.
So, it was onward to the stage!
The actor on stage is rehearsing "Oh Juliet! ...yadayadayada." There are a few different Shakespeare related lines but I wasn't getting them this time, mostly just mumbles.
Talking to him, he's introduced as Slappy Cromwell. You can ask him about the 'putrid drivel' he's rehearsing because it is THAT bad. He's been having no luck with any of his performances, so he felt compelled to rewrite Shakespear condensing it down into a forty-five minute revue. Speare! "A theatrical medley."
You can also ask to join the play but get refused. Repeatedly if you keep insisting.
And most importantly you can ask if he ever performed at Blood Island. He had done so, but his agent, Palido Domingo always handled the travel arrangements so I'd have to go talk to him. He's a member of the Brimstone Beachclub.
I also talked to the pirate in the pink dress, who's actually a spokes-model, but what he really wants to do is act, so here he is.
Normally from here I would move on to the Barber shop, but this time I decided to pursue the map trail and follow Cromwell's instructions to go to the Brimstone Beach Club in hopes of meeting Palido.
The Cabana Boy starts off friendly and welcoming, explaining the various activities happening today and warning about the undead bits washing ashore--best to keep the kids away. But the siege earlier hasn't led to trouble for the rest of the day, so enjoy!
All good until he finds out you don't have a membership card. Then he turns into right old snot. You can ask to sign up for a card, but it's a long, ridiculous arduous process, and then even if Guybrush got through it all, he'd blackball him. Because it's policy to exclude anyone whose odor or presence might offend the other members. Rude.
No card means no beach, no usage of amenities and nothing off the grill. You can try various dialogue options to get the towels or oil, or be let onto the beach, but he doesn't budge. He ultimately doesn't even succumb to a jedi mind trick. "I'm not the pirate you're looking for."
So, that's currently a bust and it's back to the barbershop next time.
We now know we need:
a cleared route to Danjer Cove
a reservation for Blondebeard's Chicken Shop
a Brimstone Membership card
And for longterm goals:
map - Palido should help with that
ship - still unknown
crew - still unknown
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Buddy staff at the center
While me and my assistant are capable of running the shop, having buddies to work as staff alongside us also helps us understand them more and keep the place more peaceful and organized, and so I would like to formally introduce each of our buddy staff in the center!
Chiron - Pure Vanilla Cookie
Our first ever buddy staff, Chiron was baked to be our main healer in our center to which he accepted his role quite well. in addition to being a healer, he also acts as a therapist for rescued buddies that are currently staying at our center.
Often if one of the human staff is unable to man the counter, he often will take over it and greet any visitors or potential adopters and he did need to explain to the few who seem interested in adopting him that he lives and works in the center.
He often finds each adoption more exciting and hopeful, often he see’s many humans as wonderful and caring but is aware that a few have harmed others and are not to be trusted, unlike many he often tries to give those a second chance but either Elaine or Elizabeth would shoo any offending visitor away, especially if they have a history of abusing buddies or others.
Often seen as a father figure to younger rescued buddies and respected by older ones, he makes sure to set a good example for them and always reassures them that soon, someone will adopt them.
Reine - Golden Cheese Cookie
Another buddy that is baked to work in the center, Reine like her species are egotistical and proud but still accepted her role in the center. At first she was a guard and keeps an eye on visitors but soon she finds herself more in the nursery of the center, cooing and preening the babies buddies there thus she was given the role of caretaker instead.
She has a strong maternal instinct, while the center rarely bakes cookies in their infant stage or even gets rescued buddies that are that young, whenever they do Reine is the first to check on them, she is extremely protective and watchful towards the younger buddies that no one other than staff is allowed to enter the nursery, anyone who tries to get in will be screeched at and probably be bonked on the head with the side of her spear.
She feels proud and strong whenever she is taking care of these younglings, seeing herself as a guardian to them and is always ready to take care of each of them, she rarely trusts other humans other than the staff and thus everytime the younger buddies are at that age to be ready to be adopted. Chiron often has to reassure her that they will be adopted by a good home to let them go, usually she will be sadden whenever this happens but often she feels proud that they no longer need to be taken care by her and to be adopted by their own families now.
She doesn’t interract with anyone in the staff that much other than Chiron and the humans who she often comes to get them to help her preen her wings, showing that she does indeed trust them enough, but she still gets paid with golden cheese puffs as she claims she needs.
Ajita - Raisin Cookie
Our first rescue that decided to stay permanently in the center, Ajita was adopted in a different buddy center but her adopter had gotten bored of her after a week and abandoned her carelessly, the adopter was arrested and fined for abandonment if you are wondering. Hurt by this action, Ajita spend some days outside before she was rescued and brought to us.
Ajita would only talk to Chiron at the start and often make threats whenever the human staff would approuch her, it took a while but eventually she came around to trusting them and seeing how the center was comforting for her and the fact that doesn’t wish to gamble to be adopted by a uncaring adopter again, she decided to permanently stay and getting the role of rescuer.
Whenever the center receives a call to rescue a buddy, Ajita would always come alongside us to help, whether fhat be wrestling a aggresive stray buddy to relocate them or talk down to a traumatized abandoned one, she is always there to help and whenever at the center, she always hangs out with the rescued buddies to talk and get to know them more.
When Ajita first came to the center, the usual raisin birds weren’t near her and she doesn’t seem to have them but recently some have started showing up outside, acting like security cameras and squacking whenever there is someone suspicious. Ajita feeds them herself and often Chiron, who she see’s as a mentor/father figure would join her.
String - Twizzly Gummy Cookie
The second rescue to permanently live in the center, String unlike the rest of her species is calm and rather level headed. She first came to us as a rescued buddies and has not told us about what happened to her and if she was a stray or has been adopted, either way the event traumatized her and all staff agrees to never ask of her about it.
String immediently accepted the invitation of being a permanent buddy in the center and she is often acts as an assistant, she often helps the others with their tasks whether that be Chiron with calming any injured buddies or helping the humans organized any adoption, she always helps them with their tasks.
She is often quiet and reserve, prefering to listen to soft lullabies or watching others in the center. Many times she has been seen twirling her hair with her hand and talking to rescued buddies, mostly asking them about their life and whatnot.
She doesn’t interract that much, the staff even thought she was mute until she spoke silently after the first few day, she prefers to listen rather than to talk so she is often visited by the guards so that they will have someone to talk to as she just merely listens to them.
Malou - Mala Sauce Cookie
The third and possibly but not probably the last rescued permanent buddy along with her tribe, Malou and her tribe were once strays when they were sweep by a particularly strong downpour of rain and when they were rescued, they had to be preheated and sligthly and carefully bake in the oven again to evaporate and get their bodies crispy again.
Eternally grateful for saving their lives, Malou and her tribe offered to be guards for the place to which the staff agrees. they patrol the center in and out and whenever something is amiss they report them to the staff immediently and she and her tribe each take turns to watch over the place, usually at night they can relax as the place has a lock and gate but usually Malou watches over at night to ensure safety.
They are rather a rambunctious group, often than not they greet visitors happily and lead them to the front counter and even chat whenever some are in the waiting area and they often share their drinks to staff but often than not, they have to turn down their generous offer for the sake of their insides which they do not blame them, Chiron once tried and coughed so badly String thought he was dying, he is ok though.
However when someone with bad intentions does enter the center, the tribe immediently becomes protective and shows that while buddies are smaller than humans, they are still able to chase them away whilst protecting the others.
#crk au#cookie run kingdom au#crispy buddies#crispy buddies au#cookie run kingdom#crk#Buddies of the Center#Chiron#Reine#Ajita#String#Malou#Lore
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