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jksprincess10 · 1 month

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Precious || Sugar daddy ! Lucien Flores x reader

Summary: You meet with your sugar daddy at his California residence. (2k words)

CW: sex in exchange of money and luxuries, feelings, slight angst, infidelity (Lucien is married), jealousy, daddy kink, English and Spanish pet names, f masturbation, fingering, blowjob, praise kink, dom!lucien, unprotected p in v, emotions, sad-ish ending (sorry i'm feeling emo), minimal editing. Also, I haven't seen the movie, so this might be OOC,

A/N: We all saw that video right? Thank you twitter for this. Also, thanks to @ozarkthedog who inspired some of this.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you made an arrangement with an older man for money, you hadn't expected that he would be... hot. You also didn't expect to fall for him.

But standing in front of you, Lucien Flores was something else. A colorful, silk-like shirt let you see glimpses of golden skin. Expensive jewelry on his throat. A wedding band on his finger as he brought the cigarette to his lips. From a wife he did not care about. A wife he left at his main residency.

But here, in California, everything was a dream. He treated you like a princess, all you had to do was to be pretty and let him fuck you, which wasn't hard when he was so handsome, and when you were madly in love with him.

"Was your trip okay?"

"Yes, everything was perfect. Thank you for the first-class trip, daddy."

He smirked and let the cigarette fall to the ground, before crushing it with his shoe. He sat on one of the lounge chairs on the patio and patted his lap to encourage you to sit on it. You climbed up and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you. His strong cologne tickled your nose.

"I missed you." He whispered, and you wished you could believe him. You wished he had missed your personality, your humor, and not only the way you sucked his cock.

"I missed you too." You responded truthfully.

“Sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you?”

“I don’t know, what will you do?” You responded mischievously.

“Did you bring the bikini I got you? Will you go lay prettily in the pool while I get some work done, hm?”

You nodded enthusiastically, and got off his lap to strip off your tight dress to reveal the red bikini that covered barely anything. The top was just enough to cover your nipples, and the bottom was more of a g-string than anything else. Lucien’s gaze devoured you, making you feel vulnerable, but hot.

You did as he said, laying in the pool on top of an oversized donut as he took work calls on the patio, attentive dark eyes looking at you from time to time.

After an hour under the sun, waiting for him, you got bored, and you wanted to play. Lucien was still on a call with a client, and you vaguely heard him speak Spanish, words about house prices and vague promises. You waited until he looked at you, then, your hand sneaked under your bikini bottoms that left little to the imagination. Like an automatism, your fingers recolted some of your wetness before circling your clit. The point wasn't as much to pleasure yourself than to provoke Lucien.

His eyes darkened, his attention fully on you as he kept speaking. He simply curved his fingers in your direction, beckoning you to come closer.

So, you did. You ungracefully got out of the pool and walked towards him like an obedient puppy.

"What are you doing?" He mouthed to you, while his client talked on the other end.

"I'm waiting for you." You responded innocently.

Lucien didn't seem satisfied with your answer. He got closer to you, until you were stuck to the patio door, your ass leaving a mark on the clean glass. He kept talking on the phone, as if nothing peculiar was happening, and he pulled your bikini to the side, so he could access your seam. His fingers went through your slit, sensing how wet you were. He looked at you with a disapproving look, and you gasped as he started circling your clit.

"... yes sir, with your budget, I certainly can find you the house of your dreams... I'll see you on Friday."

He hung up and put his phone in his back pocket.

"You want my attention so bad? You have it now." He groaned. His free hand held your waist tightly, and you wished he kissed you in that moment.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and bucked your hips against his fingers, gasping when he put two of them in your wet hole. He started pumping them in and out unceremoniously, filling the air with your obscene wet sounds. You cried softly, your back arching against the door.

"Lucien... please...I'm sorry..."

You felt him hitting that spongey spot inside of you again and again, as his palm rubbed against your clit. Your legs started to shake, and he held you up as you almost fell under the intensity of your orgasm.

"There you go baby..." He pressed his nose against your hair as he guided you through your ecstasy, inhaling your sweet, intoxicating scent. When your eyes met his, you stopped fearing he would push you away and you pulled him into a kiss. He crowded you against the house, holding you tight as he responded back with his whole body.

Only to be interrupted by another phone call. He groaned and let go of you. Still, his hand held your shoulder and he slowly pushed you to the ground.

"You will suck me off while I take this call, yeah?"

He took the call before you could say anything, but he knew you would obey. You unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers until his dick sprung free. Thick, uncut, and perfect. You salivated just looking at it. You started by licking the tip almost timidly, looking up at him through your lashes as he talked about serious work-related stuff. He looked so in control. You took him in the warmth of your mouth slowly, his hand cradling your head indicating that you were doing a good job. You were so horny for him, you could barely hear him talk, only hearing the soft vibrations of his deep voice. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, how he liked, sometimes adding a bit of teeth, just grazing the sensitive skin.

"Good girl." He mouthed to you, and you warmed up at the praise.

You accelerated eventually, hollowing your cheeks to make him feel everything. His hips bucked lightly into your mouth, encouraging you to keep your pace. His breath was getting heavier, and you could tell his concentration was failing him slowly.

"Can I call you back? I have another line I have to take. Yeah, okay."

Lucien hung up and dropped his phone to the floor.

"God... this mouth of yours, baby."

One of your hands played with his heavy sack as you kept sucking him, his body responding to you with thrusts.

"Let me come on those pretty tits." He breathed.

You hurriedly untied your top and just as you let his cock fall out of your mouth, he guided his cock with his hand as his come started spurting out. He painted your chest, and you let him make a canvas out of you.

Lucien helped you up and pecked your lips.

"Go wash up, make yourself pretty for your daddy while I finish a few calls. I left a few things for you in my room. We'll have dinner and I'll spend the night focusing on you, okay?"

"Okay, daddy." You looked at him one last time, and you disappeared in his house.

Lucien treated you like a princess, and you indulged in a delicious meal in his presence. You tasted the best wine the restaurant had to offer. You enjoyed his company and you talked about everything. The only cloud to your evening was a call from his wife, and you tried to burry your jealousy. Your job was to be the young and pretty mistress to the rich man, not his wife.

But you knew Lucien read you like an open book. When he brought you home, to his large bedroom, he crowded you against the wall, one of his large hands beside your head, the other one low on your back.

“What was that about, baby?”

You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear his big, sad brown eyes that would unravel the truth so easily. The hand beside your head cradled your jaw, and you had no choice but to look at him.

“Nothing.”

He tsked. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t like when you talk to your wife when I’m here. It feels… wrong.” You sighed.

“Mi corazón… ” He cooed. “I have to play the part of the loving husband. Doesn’t mean you’re any less precious.”

You bit your bottom lip, swallowed your tears.

“Prove it.”

Lucien leaned in, and his lips grazed yours, his big nose bumped against the tip of yours. “You’re my precious little thing. Can’t live without you.”

Your body responded to his, molding against his chest as you arched your back. He kissed you, fiercely. The hand against your face almost bruising. Your whimper of his name died against his lips, swallowed by his tongue. When you came back out for air, his lips traced your jaw, your neck, your cleavage. Expert hands unzipped the dress he bought for you, and it pooled at your ankles. You kicked it away, and in a hurry, you undid his soft shirt. You leaned down to kiss his chest as he smelled your hair, holding you close.

“I want you.” He whispered painfully. The older man guided you and discarded your body on fire on his comfortable bed. Lucien got rid of his pants as he took the time to look at you, sprawled on his bed, dressed in precious lace. “My pretty girl…”

You felt heat rush to your face, and you realized how much you wanted to be his.

You both peeled off the last layers separating you, and he laid between your spread legs, his body warm against yours. You were always so ready for him. It took him mere seconds for to make you come, only so he could slide into your wetness easily and selfishly. He didn’t deserve you. You wrapped your legs around his hips as he stilled. Your cheeks were wet with tears, that he kissed away.

“Look at me.”

You did with a weak smile.

“There you are, my pretty girl.” He cooed.

“Yours, yours yours” You chanted back as he started moving slowly, but with strength that took the breath out of your lungs and made you close your eyes.

“You’re always taking me so well.” He praised. “Keep your eyes on me. Keep your mouth occupied, mi corazón.”

You sucked on the chain dangling from his neck, the metallic taste keeping you grounded as you watched him with adoration. You muffled your cries and kept your eyes on him as he started thrusting his hips faster, making your eyes want to roll in the back of your head. But you kept your focus on him, on the slight crows feet around his eyes, on his smile lines, on his beautiful, adoring eyes.

“You will come on my cock, baby.” His hand reached to where the two of you were joined, and his thumb pressed on your swollen clit, circling it at the same messy rhythm as his hips, letting you tighten and convulse around him. “Good girl.”

His words, his fingers, and the tip of his cock that kept hitting your G-spot made you see stars. You kept your eyes strained on him as you choked his dick and came around him with a muffled moan. He guided you through it, before grabbing your hips and fucking you deep and fast. His chain left your lips, and you replaced it with his mouth, kissing him slow and deep.

“W-Where do you want me?” He groaned inside your mouth.

“Inside.”

Lucien cursed as he spilled inside of you, before laying against your body, his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath. You caressed his curly hair and held him close, scared of loosing him.

“I love you.” You said in the smallest voice possible.

He looked up at you with sad eyes, and he kissed you long and slow. He would break your heart and you both knew it.

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writingsbychlo · 10 months

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What would you do if you were Azs mate and found out he gave you Elains necklace?

“That’s such a pretty necklace, where did you get it?” Feyre mused, her brows raising as she peered over the rim of her wine glass at you. It went a little quite in the room, your cheeks heating as the High Lady’s fingers brushed your skin where the small pendant sat.

Despite it having been almost two years since you’d met her know, far more since you’d found your mate in her family, it still surprised you sometimes to find yourself holding her attention.

“It is pretty!” Mor fawned, coming a little closer to admire it. “I must know the jeweller, I could spend a fortune on pieces like this!”

“You’ll have to ask Azriel, he gave it to me years ago.” You smiled at the memory, you’d barely been on three dates with him, before the bond had even clicked, and he’d gifted it to you to match your dress before taking you to dinner. You’d almost forgotten about it, hidden at the bottom of your jewellery box. Glancing around the room, pride shone within you toward your mate as everyone admired it. Everyone but one. Elain. A frown sat in her lips, brows pulled taut, and she seemed so deeply conflicted that a war was playing out on those delicate features. “Elain? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She whispered, head snapping up, but her lips pressed together more tightly than usual, a frown tugging at the corners.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She had less conviction this time, her voice weaker, and a ripple crossed over her features like she was cursing herself for it. The weight of everyone’s stare on her, now, seemed to make her snap. “It’s just— Azriel gave me that necklace, nearly half a decade ago.”

“He gave you one too?” You’d known about their dalliance, it had been a joke long ago that both you and Lucien had rolled your eyes good-naturedly at, but now it was confusing.

“No… he gave me that one.” She sighed, finally meeting your gaze, looking somewhere between scared and sorrowful. “He gave it to me on Solstice evening, and I gave it back to him the next day.”

You fingered the charm around your neck, lump swelling in your throat. “Do you… want it back?”

“Back? Gods, no, it’s yours! I didn’t—” Her eyes wondered further, that fear leaking into her voice now as she moved across the room to clasp your hands. “I don’t want that! It’s just, it reminded me of why I gave it up. I saw you. When he gave me that necklace it felt stolen. When I wore it I felt wrong, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw your face. I saw you in my visions before I ever met you, and I knew I wasn’t the one for Azriel! It’s just… I’m so happy with Lucien now, I couldn’t be any happier, but thinking back on old heartbreaks hurts. It killed me to give him up before I knew Lucien was who would make me happy, when I thought that would be Az. Looking at the necklace just makes me sad, and I never imagined he’d give it to you. Never. I thought he’d get rid of it.”

You clutched her hands tightly, willing her to see your empathy and not your anger, an emotion that wasn’t aimed at her. “I’m sorry, Elain. I didn’t realise it would hurt you, I had no idea.”

Unclasping it from your neck, you held it out to Mor without another glance.

“It’s all yours, Mor. Use it to find the jeweller, and then trade it’s value for something pretty. Get new necklaces, matching ones for Elain and I. And a set of earrings for yourself, it should fetch a fine price, even years later.”

Nesta chuckled into her drink, and Feyre only laughed at the glee on Mor’s face as she securely tucked it inside her bra for safekeeping.

“You’re not mad?” Elain pressed, and you shook your head, smiling.

“Not at you.”

She only have a relived sigh, parting after a second to return to her seat, and allow the rest of girls night to run smoothly. Your fingers brushed your bare neck once, your eyes rolling, before letting it go for now, to enjoy your friends’ company.

And you did.

The night went on for hours more, until Cassian arrived to collect Nesta, slinging her over his shoulder and jumping violently when she smacked his ass with a cheer.

Rhys came next, helping a wobbling Feyre to her feet and bidding you all goodnight with a charming grin.

It was Mor who had winnowed you home, to outside the townhouse you shared with your mate, her forehead pressed to your own with a wicked smirk as she made you promise to give him hell.

Stumbling into the house, still a little tipsy, you made your way towards your bedroom, a shadow meeting you part way and wrapping eagerly around your wrist, tugging you excitedly to the bedroom.

When you arrived, Az was sitting in bed, surrounded by pillows, and marking his page as he put his book down. “Hello, my love. Did you have fun?”

“Hello, my mate.” His brows rose a little, and you kicked your heels off half-heartedly, leaving them by the door as you stepped in further. “I had a wonderful time.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He grinned, patting the space beside him in bed. “I missed you, though.”

“I missed you too.” Across to your messy dresser you walked on shaky steps, opening the lid of your large jewellery box and beginning to take off the earrings you still wore. Another gift from Azriel. In fact, the box was teeming with them, and you hummed. “Az, come look at this.”

He was in bed one moment, and by your side the next, peering through shadows over your shoulder. “Your jewellery box?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?” He mumbled, and you shrugged, feeling him press a kiss to your shoulder, his hands ghosting your waist, before you were wandering away.

“Keep looking.”

He chuckled, but obliged, and you took the time to step into your pyjamas as he did. “What is it that I’m looking for?”

“Any other regifted piece of jewellery from past lovers that you want to remove before I get caught short again.”

Your hands fell to your hips as his head snapped up. Tan skin drained of colour, all playfulness melting away from him. His gaze moved, to your bare neck, to the box in search, before back to your gaze. “Your necklace—”

“Elain’s necklace.” You muttered, and his throat bobbed, shadows swirling low to the ground like a puppy with its tail between its legs. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I’m sorry! You— I didn’t— I’m sorry!” His hands flexed by his sides, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes. He sent a desperate tug down the bond, floods of love and sorrow and shame, and you turned back to look at him.

“Oh, relax, I’m not that mad.” His shoulders sagged only a little, but he didn’t stop the onslaught of love he sent to you across that tether. There was a question nagging, though, through the slight hurt and embarrassment, and your voice was weak as you asked; “Is there any more in there, though?”

“No, baby. Gods, no.” That pain was reflected on his own eyes now, and you shrugged helplessly, hugging your arms to your chest.

“I liked that necklace. You’re such a jerk.”

“I know.” He whispered, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new one! I just wish you’d… I don’t know, not let me leave the house in it! Or just gotten me a new necklace that day! I loved that memory, nobody had ever bought me jewellery before.” Azriel bought you plenty of gifts now, from every court and continent he travelled to, it was how that one had become so lost to time in the first place, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you, Az! You might be a dumbass but you’re mine and I love you. Of course, I forgive you.” He relaxed fully then, stalking across the room toward you with his arms out, ready to embrace.

Before he could reach you, you slammed a pillow into his chest, blocking his body from your own.

“You’re still sleeping on the couch tonight, though.”

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alina-dixon · 8 months

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A Fable

Pairing: Morpheus x Male reader

Warnings: violence, blood, captivity, fluff.

Requested: Yes / No

Part 1

A/N: The reader is the Hero from Fable 2! I really love the game Fable 2! So I thought why not? Have fun reading!☺️❤️

___

It's a cold winter day in Bowerstone, you and your Sister Rose are standing at a fireplace. You and Rose are homeless. You are only nine years old and your sister is fifteen. You were just trying to get warm, when suddenly something fell on your head and when you touched it you immediately knew it was bird poop! Your eyes went wide and tried to get rid of it while making a disgusted sound.

Rose looked weirdly at you while having her arms around her body to stay warm. “What was that? Oh! Yuck.” she said while taking a step back. When you stopped she put her arms back around her and so do you with yourself. “Well… That’s lucky. Like finding a four-leave clover. Although I think I'd prefer the clover.” her voice sounded a little awkward when saying that.

Then she looked at the castle amazed that stood in the center of Brightwood. “Look. little Sparrow…Castle Fairfax looks so nice in the snow. Imagine the grand dining hall. I bet Lord Lucien’s having roasted duck at this time of the year.” She ranted while you just kept quiet while putting your hands over the fireplace and listened to her ranting.

She put her hands on her hips. “But he must be really lonely since his wife and his little girl died. In that big castle, all by himself… If only we could live there.” She looked at the castle with a sad expression.

Suddenly there was the sound of loud cheering heard from behind the houses. “What is going on over there? Come with me, little brother.” she said while running in the direction of where the sound came from. So before you could say anything you followed her, but you were a little behind.

When you turned into the alleyway and went farther down you saw a man talking to your Sister, You saw him talking to her a few times back then. “Hello there, young Rose. You look hungry. Have you reconsidered my offer?” he said oddly nice but also very weird. You of course do know what he's talking about.

You approached them slowly. Rose had a disgusted and angry look on her face. “We’ll never be that hungry. The answer is NO!” That angered the guy. “You’ll be back. And I'll be waiting for Ya.” he said with an angered tone, then walked away.

Rose sighed and looked at you. “Come on, little Sparrow. Let's see what's going on.” she said as we both ran again to where the sound came from. Rose sighed again. “That filthy creep… I hate him.” she spat.

You finally arrived only to see a crowd around a taider. “Oh… It's just a trader. I can't see anything through the crowd.” She was clearly disappointed.

“A-ladies and a-gentlemen… I have traveled the land accumulating wondrous and mysterious objects! Which I now offer to you for the modest price of five gold coins!” he said proudly.

“Consider this. This is truly a magical mirror. For as long as you look into it, it will make you beautiful!” he said lowly. “I'll take it!” a random guy screamed from the crowd. “Very wise! Now just remember: the magic only works if you look at it in complete darkness.” He had a smug look on his face.

The trader turned to something that looked like a music box, but it was completely made of metal. “Ah, now this is truly a marvel.” he said smiling at it. “This small, unassuming box is actually a device created by the ancients. As was used by the old rulers of the kingdom themselves! Turn the handle three times, and you shall be granted a single wish!”

Rose looked unamused at this and scoffed. “There’s no such thing as magic!” she said and she thought that nobody heard it because they were busy watching the trader, but hooded women turned towards us. When you saw her eyes, you noticed that she was probably blind.

“We live in grim times indeed, if the young doesn't believe in magic anymore. Most children your age believe eagerly.” she said in a calming voice. Rose looked at her weirdly but you thought that she was right, only because you believed in it yourself. “Look, I can see your eyes are bad, but I'm telling you, that magic box is rubbish.” while she said that the crowd beside us was getting smaller and smaller until everyone was gone.

“That's what the seller thinks. He has no idea what he stumbled upon. But you have an inkling, have you? Some part of you wants to believe it's magic.” Her voice still calm as before, she turned around already walking away from us.

Rose looked looked at he women surprised. “What? You… you really think it could be?” she asked hesitantly. The woman stopped but only turned her head to the side. “For five gold coins, you could have your own answer.” Rose looks dumbfounded at her answer. “For five gold coins, we could eat for a weak.” Rose frowned.

The women started walking away. “Listen to me, Rose. At the end of the week you and Y/N would be no closer to your dream- no closer to the inside of that beautiful castle.” she started. ‘She, is right actually…’ is all what you thought to yourself.

Rose turned to face you frowning slightly. “What if it is real? I bet we could get five gold coins… and maybe this could be a way out of here, after all. What is there to lose, little sparrow?” she sounded confident. I smiled at her. “Probably nothing!” Rose laughed then nodded. “All right! Come on, there must be someone around here who will pay us to… do something.” with that we went around town to earn some money.

After about half an hour we finally had our five coins to buy the music box! Rose and I went back to the trader. The Trader Murgo looked at you smiling. “Hello children.” he said happily. Rose and I smiled back at him. “Hello, we’ve come to buy the music box.” she started still smiling.

I walked towards the man held my hand in front of him showing him the five coins. “Very wise, little ones! Go ahead and turn the handle- but mind you go somewhere quiet, like.” he smiled at the both of you. “Okay thank you! Bye mister!” you waved at him. “Let's go make our wish, little Sparrow!” she said excitedly, as you both started walking back to your little stay.

You put the music box onto a box wooden box that was around half of your height. “Alright turn the handle!” Rose was a nervous as you started to turn the handle. “I wish… I wish…” After she said her wish the box opened and started glowing in a bright golden color. A beautiful sound was playing but then the music box started rotating and the music got faster, the golden color was turning red and then all of a sudden, the music box lighted up in a bright golden color and disappeared right in front of our eyes!

You and Rose we're shocked. “But… where did it go? Why are we still here? Five gold pieces… Let's just go to bed.” she sounded sad and disappointed. You yourself were sad at this, but still you followed her. “Oh. I was so sure this was it. I had this feeling like… that we weren't going to be stuck in Old Town anymore! Why didn't the box take us with it?” she still sounded sad but tried to push it aside. “Come on, Sparrow, go to bed.” so you both lay down to end the day. “Good night! Love you big Sis!” you said turning to your side. “Good night. I love you too, little Sparrow.” and with that, you both went to sleep. You only hoped that tomorrow would be a better day, and Rose won't be sad anymore.

It was still nighttime when Rose woke up to the sound of footsteps, scared that it could be a thief or something like that. She carefully opened her eyes and stood up, and when she saw who it was she was relieved, I was only the guard that they helped to earn some money for the now gone music box. “What do you want?” asked Rose the guard curiously.

The guard cleared his throat. “I work for Lord Lucien, miss. And would very much like to see you in his castle. I've been sent to collect you.” With that, he walked away, and Rose walked up to your sleeping form. “It did work! Our wish came true! Come on little Sparrow, wake up.” So you opened your eyes and stood up still a little tired. “What's happening, Sis?” you asked her with a yawn and rubbed your eyes.

Rose smiled brightly at you. “Everything is fine. We're going to Lord Lucien’s castle! Now come we have to go little Sparrow!” she said as she ran in the direction of where the guard went to wait for us. When I ran after her I saw her standing with a few guards waiting for me.

“Let's go to the castle!.” Rose said happily, and so we were guided to Castle Fairfax. “What do you think does Lord Lucien wants from us?” I asked her confused. “I don't know, but we will find out shortly, Little Sparrow.” she said looking to at the big doors of the Castle.

The door was open and an old-looking Butler stood there waiting. “Evening. Jeeves. Here are the children Lord Lucien asked for.” he said proudly. The Butler smiled at us. “Excellent!” was all that he said to the guard, then turned back to us. “Hello, young masters.” This confused you but you ignored it. “Hello, sir.” both you and Rose answered politely.

His smile tightened and turned around. “If you'd follow me please.” he said and started to lead us into the castle. We look up at this castle every day and think how nice it is. We both do. But inside it's even more beautiful than I imagined.” Rose told him dreamily. Jeeves chuckled. “It's quite wonderful, isn't it?” it was more of a statement than a question.

Then we saw a man walking past us. “Ah, hello. Master Garth.” Jeeves greeted still walking while the other male said nothing. “Huh, Man of few words.” He led us further into the castle. “Where is the grand dining hall?” Rose suddenly asked curiously. “Oh, in the north wing. Lord Lucien hadn't been there since… Since the tragic deaths of Lady Fairfax and little Amelia.” he told us as we claimed some stairs and further down the hall. “Oh, I heard. That was so awful.” Rose’s tone was sad. Jeeves nodded. “Yes, he misses them terribly.” Rose raised a brow. “So where does he eat?” Jeeves looked at her. “Actually, he takes most of his meals in his study. He's in there working all hours, doing research...” You frowned. “What does he research?” you asked him curiously. “History, mostly. Lord Lucien is quite keen on antiquities of all sorts, but he is chiefly interested in things relating to the Old Kingdom.” Rose nodded understanding. “There was a Trader in Old Town who said his stuff was from the Old Kingdom.” Jeeves nodded. “Yes… yes, I believe Lord Lucien… heard about that.” he told us hesitantly. We were standing in front of some big doors now. “We bought a piece of it and we made a wish and now we're here!” She smiled brightly.

Jeeves smiled again. “That's wonderful. Now, when you meet Lord Lucien., you must show respect at all times. Address him as “my lord.” Speak only when spoken to.” he told us, You and Rose nodded. “Yes sir.” she awnsered shortly. Jeeves stood in front of us “And do not mention Lady Fairfax or Amilia.” he said a little more sternly. Jeeves opened the door to the study. “Here we are. Lord Lucien? The children are here.” Jeeves informed as me and Rose walked in and the door closed right behind us. ‘I don't like this’ is all I thought as I tried to push a weird feeling away.

Lord Lucien turned towards us. “Children. It's come to my attention that you have some sort of magic box. May I see it?” he asked looking at us curiously. “It vanished m’lord. We were winding it up, and we made a wish, and then it started to glow and it disappeared.” she said sadly. “After you used it?” is all he asked. Rose nodded. “Yes, m’lord. The man who sold it to us said it was magic.” Lord Lucien looked a little interested.

“The box is of no interest to me, what's remarkable is that you were able to use it. What was your wish?” he then asked. Rose gasps a little scared. “Well, speak up… what did you wish for?” he asked nicely. Then she looked up at him confidently. “To live in a castle… like this one.” Lucien smiled. “Perhaps that could be arranged. I working to rebuild… well, I'm working on something wonderful, for which I need individuals with particular talents. Let us find out if you have them. Would you kindly stand in the circle, please?” Rose looked at him nervously “Erm…” Lucien Looked at her reassuringly. “I promise, it won't hurt you.” This made my weird feeling grow but Rose still obliged and stepped inside the circle, while you still stood at your spot behind Lord Lucien. Behind the circle were also very big colored windows.

Suddenly the circle started to glow in a bright blue. “What's that?” asked scared. “Nothing to worry about.” Lucien answered. You looked a little scared at the circle. Lord Lucien looked at me with reassuring eyes. “Go on. Stand in the circle.” Then Rose looked at you. “It's all right, little Sparrow. Don't be afraid. It doesn't hurt.” Her tone was soft. So you made a quick nod and stepped into the circle.

When you stepped inside there was some sort of a blue glowing wall. You were trapped. Lord Lucien stood in front of you, his face was full of shock and relief. “It's true. Your blood… you are Heroes.” This of course shocked you and Rose. “Heroes? You mean like in the old stories?” she asked amazed. Lord Lucien then tried to touch the barrier and it sent some shocks to him. “Ah!” he screamed out pulling his hand away and holding it. When this happens the circle suddenly starts to glow bright red. “What are you?” he asked angrily as he walked to a table with many papers and a book on it.

He started panting. “Wait. There was, there was something here…” mumbling to himself. “M’lord, what happened? What's that light?” Rose asked seemingly scared. “Quiet! You're heroes… but you're not any of the three…” he would us while looking through the papers. “What's happening?” asked terrified as Lord Lucien suddenly pulled a gun out. You froze as he suddenly pointed it towards Rose. “This isn't what I wanted… but nothing must stand in my way.” he said darkly. Rose looked even more terrified now. “No, wait. Don't! Nooo!” she screamed in agony, but it was too late he pulled the trigger and she fell to the floor. Tears were now streaming out of your face as you realized what happened, You looked at your now dead sister but you still couldn't move, you were to terrified.

Lucien then pointed the gun towards you. “I can't allow you to live either. I'm sorry.” is all that he said. You pulled your arms in in front of you as you backed away towards the window. And then he shot you which made you crash out of the window onto many roofs before crashing into the street.

When you laid there on the street you barely moved Your fingers. You then heard footsteps and a voice. “Death is not your destiny today, little Sparrow… Y/N” You knew that voice… it was the blind woman from the market. Then you felt how you were picked up into her arms, then you blacked out cold.

Suddenly you woke up to a familiar face it was the woman she had a dog with her that licked your face. It was the dog that you and Rose rescued once. Then time went by fast you reached out for the comfort of the dog’s warm fur, ready to take your first steps in a new life.

Ten winters blanketed in Albion, ten summers filled the air with the sounds of insects and laughter. With time your pain turned to strength. Your grief became will. A will to change the world. And to avenge the death that haunted your every dream.

Now you are 19 year old. You got your revenge for your sister with the help of the other three heroes.

Hammer is one of the other three heroes. You and her were taking a walk with Theresa. “Today is very beautiful, it's not too warm and not too cold! So it's the perfect weather to take a little walk.” Hammer breathed out with a satisfied smile. “Mhm” You nodded in agreement.

“How about we go into town and eat something? My treat!” Hammer asked. “Seems like an nice idea.” Theresa agreed. “Yeah sounds good to me!” you cheered happily. “All right, let's go!” Hammer said while laughing at you, so does Theresa.

So when you were halfway there about to reach the town something felt off as you three talked to each other. Suddenly you noticed your surroundings started to glow. “What's happening?” Hammer asks confused with a little hint of worry. “I don't know!” you answered back. “I feel magic behind it, and it's not yours. It's not good either…” Theresa said as you all stopped. Then the wind started to get stronger, the glowing got brighter, and started to circle around you very fast. You put your arm over your eyes to see something but the sight was getting less by every second that passed.

You, Hammer, and Theresa started to panic. “Help me! Please!” you begged inside the glowing mist. Hammer with half tears in her eyes looked at you then at Theresa panicked. “You have to do something. What's happening to him!?” Hammer screamed. “I can't do anything. This is way against the skills I have.” She said trying to sound calm. “What-” Hammer was about to say something as the mist disappeared, and you with it. Hammer stood there wide eyed. “What happened? Where is he? Theresa where is he!?” She screamed as she fell to her knees. Theresa walked to her side putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “He will be alright. He will find his way back home.” Hammer was in tears as she looked at her. “You think so?” she sniffled. Theresa nodded. “Let's go home for now.” Her voice was even calmer now. Hammer nodded because she knew that Theresa was right.

Far away in a mansion in America was a Man. Roderick Burgess, he and other people stood in a dungeon under the house. They were a cult and Roderick Burgess was the leader of them. They stood around a summoning circle. They spoke in Latin, then the circle started glowing.

Right next to them was Morpheus held captive. He saw what they were doing. He laid there motionless watching them. As they summoned something, or someone. Then a little explosion was seen above the summoning circle and a bright glowing was there but when it vanished, there was a boy lying on the floor unconscious, on his belt was a well made sword and on his back was a crossbow.

“Take his weapons! And his clothes!” ordered Burgess. One of the cultists stepped towards you and bowed down to grab your sword, and another one grabbed your crossbow, then two others came and started to undress you, which led to you opening your eyes. “Oh, you're awake. Let's talk about business then.” You only glared at Burgess but stayed silent, you were now fully naked. “My Name is Roderick Burgess and I want you to be my personal guard, and hear on every command I give you. If you accept, you will get your stuff back. But if you don't, we will put you in a cage and you will rot in there until you die or eventually give in and accept.” again you stayed silent and didn't respond. Burgess let's out a disappointed sigh, then he nodded at the others and walked away.

While you were put into the glass ball you saw a another male that was also naked, in the cage next to yours. He was tall, and skinny, had black hair and bright blue eyes that stared right into yours as you now laid there.

Out of nowhere, Burgess stepped right in front of your view. You looked at him but didn't dare to move a muscle. “I have that you will rethink about my offer. Even if you don't want to, in the end, you will starve and start to beg for it. I hope you're smarter than this.” then he left again.

When he and everyone left it was only you and the other caged male. You both starred at each other again, only that you didn't really look at him because you thought about Theresa and Hammer, and the fact that you miss them and only wanted to get out of here and back home. Your eyes started burning so closed your eyes and silently let the tears slip.

Morpheus watched you as the tears slipped out of your eyes, but after a short while they stopped, and then he noticed that you probably fell asleep, which was probably better that way, is all what Morpheus thought.

The next day you opened your eyes and sat up slowly. Right now you tried to stay calm so you closed your eyes again. And while sitting there you felt the other males eyes on you but you ignored it.

Then Burgess came in and walked in front of Morpheus's cage. Two other people sat in the back playing a game. Burgess held himself on the cage. “The woman who lives with me has gone and robbed me of my fortune. She’s also robbed you. She's taken your helm, your sand, and your ruby.” this made you open your eyes and look at them. “Now I can unlock this, you can go after her…” Morpheus looked up at Burgess with a glare. “If you give me what I've been asking for. Wealth, youth, immortality. Oh, your a god. These things are nothing to you. Don't you want your weapons and freedom? Just like you Hero?” Burgess said lowly looking between the two of you.

So when you and the male in front of him didn't answer he got impatient and angry. “Speak to me! Speak to me! Speak to me!” he screamed and banged his stick against the glass, which caused the male to flinch shortly. A boy came walking from behind. “Come on! Speak to me!” he screamed again. “It's all right, Father.” the boy put his hand on his shoulder tho stop Burgess of what he was doing. ‘That asshole has a kid?’ is all you thought.

Burgess pushed him away. “Get away from me! If you were any kind of son to me…” he told him as he held the stick in the air and lashed out to the boy, but he dodged it, but hit him with the second one. The boy grabbed the stick so they both held it and faced each other. “If Randell was still alive today-” Burgess was cut off by the boy. “If Randell were alive, he would hate you as much as I do.” he said with hatred, and pushed Burgess back as he tried to attack the boy again, which led him to lose his balance hand his head hit the cage.

Burgess let the stick fall hand put his hand on the back of his head and saw blood when he looked at it, then he fell to the ground, with a big wound on the back of his head.

The to other man and the boy rushed to him. “Sir?” one of them said in panic. But when the boy put his hand on Burgess’s head as he saw a pool of blood leaping out of the wound. You and Morpheus only watched the scene. “You won't get out of there. Never.” Burgess looked at You and Morpheus one more time, then his eyes closed. “Sir can you hear me? Sir?” one of the male askedand tried to shake him but Brugess didn't answer. He was Dead.

The boy looked shocked and looked at his father as he sat there on the ground. “He isn't moving. Is he…” one of the males said. “He's dead.” the other one answered as the boy stood up, Looking at his bloodied hand and back to his dead father.

The Boy stumbled away a few feet but stopped between our cages. He stopped at the cage of the other male and turned to look at him. Morpheus stared back at him and slowly stood up, Your checks got red as you saw that but you wanted to see the interaction.

Morpheus reached his hand out. ‘He’s probably asking him to open the cage.’ is what you thought. The boy turned his head a bit as he reached out too. “Don't do it, sir. He’ll kill us.” one of the males said. “What would your father say?” the male spoke again, Before the boy's hand touched the glass he stopped and put his hand back down, and looked at the ground.

The male in the cage looked disappointed, as the boy looked back up. “I need to think.” he said and looked at the other male then to you, then he left. Morpheus also had put his hand back down watching him leave.

You were angry, but still, you stood up slowly wich made Morpheus look at you. You were a bit ashamed because you had no clothes on but you pushed that aside as you both looked at each other. You held sadness in your eyes as you slowly reached out and put one hand flat on the glass. Morpheus did the same while staring into your eyes. When you looked at him you immediately felt safe.

Then nine months later the door to the Dungeons door was heard which made the guards stand up and open the gate. Alex and also another boy came in. “How are they today, Rogers?” Alex asked. Rogers sighed. “Moved his hand this morning. Right hand. And the other one is also just sitting there but didn't move.” Alex nodded, as the other boy walked in. He had a look of shock on his face and gasped. “Oh, my God.” he looked at Alex and back to you and Morpheus. “Alex?” he asked.

Alex then walked in looking at the both of you. “Hello. This is my friend, Paul.” he told you as they walked further in. “Paul, these are our unwilling guests.” he said looking at his friend shortly.

Alex was getting a little nervous. “Look, we've been talking, Paul and I, and if I let you out, will you promise not to harm us?” he asked calmly while looking at us. You both didn't move not answered his question. “If you could just speak to us.” Paul said a little nervous himself, but again silence.

Alex looked at Paul. “You see, I told you.” he was a little disappointed. “I'm telling you, you have to keep trying. Show them that they can trust you. Show them that you mean it.” Paul softly awnsered back.

Alex nodded at us. “I do mean it. Just promise that you won't hurt me or Paul, and I will let you out.” Alex tried to reason. But again we didn't answer. We just looked at them this time.

Almost eighty years later you had developed feelings for the Male in the cage next to you which was weird because you didn't even know his name, but little did you know that Morpheus also grew feelings for you.

Also the guards started to change every now and then until they looked very modern. And you, you were still looking young and didn't age which you thought was weird and not normal, but Alex was old now just as Paul was, they both married year's ago. They were in the dungeon again. Alex stood in front of Morpheus's cage and had his hand on the glass. “I could have asked you for wealth or Power, and protection, like my father did. But all I wanted was to be free of you two.” He said softly.

You and Morpheus looked up at him. “Surely you want that too.” Paul walked into view pushing a wheelchair in front of him. “Alex, darling, please.” he said softly mentioning to the wheelchair. Alex put his hand away from the glass and sat down in the wheelchair, Paul's hand on his shoulder. He looked at us one more time. “Take me upstairs, Paul. I won't be coming down here again.” is all that he said as Paul started to push the wheelchair, and now there was a gap in the protective circle. Paul stopped a few feet away and looked back seeing it, then he looked at us and made a small nod. He then around and and left with Alex.

Morpheus looked at the gap and wondered why Paul would do that, but in the end it doesn't matter, he can free himself and you now and that's all that matters to him right now.

So when they got out, and the door to the dungeon closed, it was only two guards left inside. “Old Dracula here’s not moving an inch. Just like the other weirdo.” the Female guard said quietly, looking up from her book she was reading. “Why do you call it Dracula and weirdo?” The male guard said tiredly while looking up from his newspaper. “Because I think they are. What do you think they are?” she asked quickly.

The male sighed. “I try not. You know what I think about?” he asked her, again looking up from his newspaper. “Majorca. Four days… and I'll be on a beach. Stinking of suntan lotion.” he said and smiled to himself at the thought.

Morpheus leaned forward holding himself on the glass while glaring at the guard. And you were just watching. “Lucky bugger. I was on Corfu on holiday once.” the female guard told as the other one yawned and fell asleep. Suddenly something weird starts to happen as Morpheus stares at the guard. The guard stood up from his chair and shot both of our cages and they started to break. You sat there wide eyed. “Fred!” the female guard screamed.

She ran towards him to stop him. “Fred, stop it! You'll… Fred!” she screamed but it was too late Both of your cages exploded into many pieces and our surroundings were glowing. You and Morpheus got out of your cages. “Don’t move! Stay where you are!” the guy called Fred screamed. “What… what's he got in his hands?” the female screamed. You looked at Morpheus and saw that he had something in his balled fist but you couldn't see it.

Morpheus slowly put his hand up where he held something in it right in front of his face. The guards already had their weapons aimed at us. “Oi! Open your hands, now!” she screamed at him.

And so he opened his Hand and you saw him blowing some sort of sand towards them, which made them instantly fall asleep. You were watching the scene curious. But then all of your strength suddenly left your legs and you fell to your knees right next to Morpheus with a thud. He instantly looked at you and kneeled down to your hight.

He slowly put his hand on your cheek and his eyes looked at you softly. “I'll get us out of here.” he said and his tone was smooth but very deep. You melted into his hand and nodded at him. Then he slowly picked you up bridal style. Your arms around his waist as you were sucked into the glowing. You… you were getting your revenge now.

Then in a room a black cat came in and sat on a chair in the middle of the room. There also came Alex into the room he looked young again and he curiously looked at the cat with his head tilted to the side. Suddenly the cat disappeared and Morpheus sat on the chair and you stood beside him both fully clothed as you looked at Alex darkly. “Hello” Morpheus said.

Alex was scared you could see it in his eyes. “It's... It's you two. You're… you're free.” he said quietly. “We are.” Morpheus simply awnsered as he stood up and the wind started to blow through the open window. “And have you any idea what it was like? Confined in a cage for over a century?” he asked as he slowly walked towards Alex. “Do you understand the damage you've done to your world?” he asked again. Alex was more then just scared now, he was terrified. “I'm sorry. I… I didn't know. Please.” he said backing away a bit.

Morpheus looked at him unbothered just like you. “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift.” when he said that Alex turned to a little boy. “I give you this, the gift… of eternal… sleep.” when he finished the sentence he blow some sand in Alex’s face and he fell asleep.

Morpheus looked looked back at you holding his hand out. “Let's get out of here.” That's all you needed to hear and took his hand as he teleported you both.

A voice was heard. ”Sir. Sir.” It was the panicked voice of Lucienne. “Oh, my goodness.” she kneeled down to turn him onto his back. “Sir. It's me!” she panted as she saw his eyes opening. “It's Lucienne.” she said as Morpheus looked at her and started to smile and took her hand. “Lucienne.” he whispered weakly. “Your home, my Lord.” and that's when Morpheus started to frown. When he looked beside him he noticed you weren't there. “My Lord? What's wrong?” she asked worriedly.

Morpheus started to stand up. “A boy, he was held captive. Just like me. I brought him with me.” He said as he started to look around. Not even a minute later he saw you laying a few feet away from him, and he immediately sprinted towards you with Lucienne. “A Human? Why was he held captive?” she asked confused. Morpheus shook his head as he turned you around and saw you breathing normally. “He is not fully human, it seems. Because he didn't age for almost a century. The man who held us captive once called him Hero.” Lucienne looked at him baffled. “Do you think he is one of the three heroes? My Lord?” she asked. “I don't know.” is all he awnsered as he gently put a hand on your cheek which made you open your eyes.

When you saw him you started to smile. “Your safe now.” Morpheus said softly as he helped you off of the ground. You looked around and saw the woman with pointy ears and smiled at her. “Hello, jung Man.” she smiled back at you. You were a little scared to speak because you didn't talk since you were held captive, but you decided to still try it. “H-Hello.” you said but your voice didn't sound raspy or broken as you thought it would be. Morpheus and Lucienne smiled at you. “Thank you, for taking me with you…” you started but you trailed off because you didn't know his name.

Morpheus smiled softly at you. “My name is Morpheus. And this is Lucienne.” he told you. “Thank you, Morpheus. And my name is Y/N.” you smiled at both of them.

You started walking over to very huge gates on a massive wall. On those big gates were some pictures in it it looked well made. It made you look at them amazed with your mouth wide open. Morpheus looked at you and chuckled. “You like them?” he asked which made you blink before realizing, and looked at him. “Yeah! I-I mean they look astonishing!” you smiled at him nervously.

Morpheus then raised his hand and touched the gates, they began shaking and started to open up. “Forgive me, sir, but… the realm, the palace… they are not as you left them.” Lucienne said as Morpheus looked at her. Morpheus looked through the gate as it opened. His look… he was shocked with what happened to his Realm… his home.

You, looked shocked too, even if you didn't know how it looked like before. You saw the dead trees and bushes, the land looked like as if it was completely dead. Then you saw that a piece of the roof from the half destroyed castle fell down. “What happened here? Who did this?” He asked not daring to look away from his destroyed home.

Lucienne let out a sigh. “My Lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to… decay. And crumble.” she looked at him sadly as he looked back at her. “And the residents? The Palace staff?” Morpheus asked with a little hope. “I'm afraid most have… gone.” she looked at the ground. “Gone?” he asked rising his eyebrows. “Some went looking for you.” she looked back at him. “And the others?” He asked walking in front of her. Lucienne looked back down to her side, then back up. “They thought, perhaps, you'd grown weary of your duties and…” Morpheus stopped her. “What? Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me?” he asked in disbelief.

Lucienne didn't know what to say. You on the other concentrated on the view that was in front of you, as the conversation went deff on your ears. You slowly started to move away from them and towards the destroyed landscape. You felt welcomed even if the view in front of you didn't look welcoming in the first place. You closed your eyes whilst you took in the fresh air.

Lucienne looked towards you, which made Morpheus look behind him and he sees that you are walking away from them. When suddenly they saw some tears rolling down your face, when you turned your head sideways.

Lucienne looks worried. Then you felt a hand on your shoulder which made you open your eyes and look at the person who's hand was on your shoulder. It was Morpheus. You look at him puzzled. “Y/N?” Morpheus asked. “Yes? Is something wrong?” you tilted your head. “You seemed lost in thoughts. What's wrong?” he asked softly. “Didn’t notice that! I'm happy to be free again and out of this tiny cell in that weird Dungeon… Aaaand I'm probably a little tired after some sleepless nights.” You laughed awkwardly while scratching your head.

Morpheus nodded. “How about a little sleep then?” He asked while rising a brow. “Hmmm, no. Not before I helped you rebuild your realm!” you said grinning and put your hands on your hips. “But if you want to help him, you will need your sleep.” Lucienne reasoned. You humed. “You're probably right. Okay, I'll sleep once we’re there.” you smiled. Morpheus nodded again. “Let's go shall we?” you nodded at his question and walked beside him.

When you arrived at the castle, Morpheus turned towards you. “Come with me, I show you where you can sleep,” he started as you part ways with Lucienne. “Can I ask you something, Morpheus?” you look at him. “Of course. What do you want to know?” you thought for a short second. “I wanted to know who you are besides Morpheus, you know?” you asked nervously. Morpheus smiled and made a small chuckle. “I am an Endless, Dream of the Endless to be exact. People also call me the Sandman. Also we're here.” he said opening a door to a bedroom that was still intact. When you went inside you saw that the room was painted in black, but it was held simple.

You pulled your shoes, coat, and shirt off. When you sat down on the bed, Morpheus follows you and stands in front of you. “Who's room is this?” you asked looking around. “It's mine.” he simply answered. Your head shot into his direction while standing up. “I didn't know. I can sleep on the floor too.” you tried to say as he already put a hand on your shoulder and sat you back down. “It's alright. I told you to sleep, didn't I?” you looked baffled as you nodded at him. “Now, lay down.” you did as you were told and pulled the covers over you.

Morpheus kneels down to your height, and holds a closed hand in front of his face, which makes you realize what he was about to do so you stop him. “Wait!” you said which made him raise a brow. “Yes?” he asks while looking into your eyes. “We can share the bed if you want! I mean if it's okay with you…” you said shyly. This catches Morpheus off guard but he starts to smirk slightly. “If that's what you want. I will. But I will go and talk to Lucienne shortly, then I'll be back.” he says and you give him a closed-eyed smile. “Yeah, I'll wait.” Morpheus gives you a nod as he stands up and leaves the room grinning to himself.

About ten minutes later he returned. “I'm here now.” he says and you simply nod at him. So he pulls his shirt and pants off but leaves the boxers on. He walks over to the empty side of the bed and gets under the covers. You both stare at each other until you slowly fell asleep. Morpheus smiled at your peaceful sleeping face as he slowly touched your cheek with his hand. Then the next second, you had your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “Good night, Y/N.” Morpheus had a small smile on his face as he laid his arms around your body.

#male reader #gay #male x male #male x male reader #x male reader #lgbtq #x male y/n #the sandman #morpheus #lord morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #oneiros #fable 2 #morpheus x male reader #lord morpheus x male reader

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dent-de-leon · 10 months

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Thinking about. How nine wizards tried to cage and twist Lucien's soul, use him as nothing more than a vessel in their grand design, a broken spirit consumed by the agonizing dream they all shared. The fact that mages from the age of arcanum--like the Somnovem--were known for capturing fate touched souls in an attempt to bend destiny to their will, manipulating and torturing those that had drawn the Matron's eye. Unfortunate souls like Lucien.

“...The surviving chronicles of the Age of Arcanum are filled with tales of magical hierarchies who enslaved those they took for fate-touched--or worse, attempted to extract the essence of fate from them by the most horrid means.”

Thinking about how, even now, after a thousand years, tyrannical wizards are still tormenting those chosen by Fate, capturing and twisting them to their own ends.

But there was still one wizard who went to hell and back and risked everything to save someone bound by fate. Intent on taking him home--regardless of fate's design and even death--never giving up hope, even if that fated soul was already doomed from the start--

Caleb sounding just like those ancient mages from the Age of Arcanum at first. "Anyone can send a message through a wire or make lights. I want to bend reality to my will." Caleb insisting he's only traveling with the Nein to further his own goals. Berating himself for not abandoning them the moment they are no longer of use. “Look at this one. He’s like a walking rainbow, what is this? Why are you with him? It makes no sense. He’s a circus performer, he’s not going to help you—”

And instead, he uses all that power to try and save someone he loves. Realizes just how cathartic and good it feels to finally uses his magic to heal:

"Caleb is going to set his hands on the Transmuter Stone, which is as big as an ostrich egg--and think of all the time and energy that went into making him able to destroy, and tear down. And how good it feels to subvert that and turn it, and use it to build. And Restore. And heal. And begin to summon up every ounce of learning and ability and skill and inspiration and imagination I have, and channel it into the stone. And fill it with the shared connection everyone here has, and try to summon our friend back from the beyond."

Thinking of a legacy of wizards who were selfish and cruel and only cared for their own self-interests, willing to step on everyone else in their path so long as it gave them an edge--no sacrifice too great for the cost their work demands. Wiling to tear apart fate itself and invoke the wrath of the gods even if countless innocents have to pay the price for their arrogance.

Thinking of one wizard who was so haunted and desperate and lonely--how his heart was touched by another lost, broken soul like him. And in the end, all Caleb wants is to just bring him home--

#mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #widomauk #forever thinking of how if this were the age of arcanum molly could have ended up imprisoned by wizards just like caleb--#critical role

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aldbooks · 5 months

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Some Elucien angst for you..

I fully blame @sunshinebingo for this after her heartbreaking little Gwynriel scene this morning. Feel free to blame her too 😝

Elain brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of the rich red wine while surreptitiously studying the fire haired male standing as far across the crowded barge from her as he could get. The one she knew still watched her with longing even as he put more and more distance between them and longer and longer periods of absence between his visits. The one her soul called out to in the silent, lonely hours of the night.

He was giving up on her. She knew it with a certainty that she did not need her powers of sight for. The same cauldron damned powers that had led them to their current position.

She’d had many visions of Lucien over the years. Of him, of her, of them together. Nearly all of them had been good. Beautiful, lovely dreams full of light and love and laughter. But it had only taken one- one dark, horrifying image, to bring it all crashing down.

The vision of Lucien lying broken in her arms had only come to her once, though it had haunted her ever since.

There had been a time once, when she had been intrigued by him, had wanted to know him, to consider pursuing all those lovely, dreamlike visions. A part of her still wanted that, if she was being honest. But each time she thought of it, that vision would resurface in her memory causing her to turn away from his earnest attempts to earn- not even her affection, just her acknowledgment.

The girl within her that had always longed to be seen for more than her beauty wished for him to push past the barriers to put up. To fight for her and push her past her own inclination towards reticence. To make her want to try despite the inevitable heartache. But she knew very few people, male or female, who would subject themselves to the sort of pain and humiliation she inflicted on him with each visit, and still prevail. Even the most resilient had their limits and Lucien Vanserra, she was sure, was rapidly approaching his.

Yet, he kept coming, no matter how infrequent those visits were becoming, he still came, heart in his hand as though compelled to do so. She could feel his pain through the bond, could also feel his reluctance to experience more of it, and yet he came.

And perhaps it made her a coward- no, she knew it did- to keep turning him away out of fear for a fate that was not certain. But she had known loss before. Losing Graysen had sunk her deep into despair, and losing her father had been almost unbearable. How much worse would it be to lose him?

She did not have to imagine. She had heard Feyre’s screams when she had nearly lost Rhys after remaking the cauldron. She’d seen the anguish in Rhys’ face when Feyre and Nyx had lay dying before Nesta had saved them. She already knew, if she opened herself up to the possibility, just how deeply she could fall for this male who was tethered to her soul. She had seen it a thousand times. And she knew that losing him… it would destroy her.

If there was one lesson she had learned in her short life thus far, even as a human, it was that nothing was promised. They were owed nothing. Not a moment of happiness or content. It could all be gone in an instant. And while she knew that her visions did not always come true, that the future was constantly changing, that vision was still one possible future. Given how slowly the fae aged, it had been impossible to tell if that scene had been a year away or a hundred. She did not know how much time she might have, and none of it was promised.

So the only question that mattered was, was the love she saw in all those other visions worth the price of the loss she might one day face?

She knew what the others would say if she asked them. Rhys and Feyre, with all the adversity they had already faced together would say- unequivocally- yes. Nesta may never admit it out loud, but her sister would agree and her mate who wore his heart on his sleeve, would hand the blade to his executioner, content in the knowledge he had some small part of her, no matter how much more he might have wanted. Morrigan, the optimist who had fought so hard for her own bit of happiness would smile and nod without hesitation. Even Azriel, who still sought love so desperately, would agree.

But Elain… she lifted her eyes, meeting a mismatched pair from across the room and held them only briefly, absorbing the frantic pull of the bond for just a moment before quickly turning away… She was a coward.

#elucien angst #elucien

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josefavomjaaga · 1 year

Text

Metternich about Napoleon, 1808

An interesting evaluation of the general situation in France, from autumn 1808, given by Austrian ambassador Metternich to his Minister of Foreign Affairs in Vienna, taken from the second volume of “Mémoires, documents et écrits divers”. For context: Metternich had in an earlier missive suggested it might be a good idea to have closer relations with Talleyrand. A suggestion that – hardly surprising – seems to have met with lots of suspicion in Vienna. Metternich tries to prove that, for once, Talleyrand is not to be seen as an enemy to the Austrian cause, that he, to the contrary, tries to stabilize a foreign policy that is about to spiral out of control.

Metternich to Stadion. Paris, 24 September 1808

[…] There are two parties in France, as opposed to each other as the interests of Europe are to the particular ideas of the Emperor.

At the head of one is the Emperor and all the military. The first only wants to extend his influence by means of force, and it is from a degree of nepotism of which there is perhaps no example, a feeling at least as strong in him as egoism; it is, moreover, from the bellicose tendency which a long habit has given to his mind, and from the fiery spirit of his character, to which we owe all the upheavals which, contrary to all reason, and to all sound and settled political calculation, he attempts and unfortunately executes only too much every year.

In short: The guy is unable to discipline himself, and unlike at other courts, there currently is no system in place to keep him in check by other means.

Napoleon sees in France only himself; in Europe and in the whole world, only his family. It is enough to observe him, against all prudence, isolating himself from all the members of his family in order to place them far from him on thrones acquired at the price of so much blood and sacrifice, to see him overthrow weak princes, entirely subject to his will, even to his whims, in order to give these crowns to brothers or relatives over whom he exercises infinitely less influence, - a truth proven daily, to his great chagrin, - not to be able to doubt that his very ambition is subject to his inclination for nepotism.

As interesting and probably correct this assessment by Metternich is (the problems Napoleon had before he took over Portugal and Spain are miniscule compared to those he had after that coup), I could imagine there may be an ulterior motive behind Metternich’s dire warning of nepotism. After all, the Austrian emperor, too, had plenty of brothers, and so had empress Maria Ludovica, most of which were no friends of Metternich.

Personally, I think there may be another motive behind Napoleon’s behaviour than nepotism. As Metternich states himself, Napoleon often struggled to keep his relatives in check. So, when he removed them from Paris and put them on thrones far away, did he do that only in order to do them a favour, or also in order to strengthen his own position in France by removing anyone who might become a figurehead of opposition at home? He removed, one by one:

Eugène (son of the empress, closest thing to a son Napoleon had in the eyes of the public during the Consulate)

Joseph (most respected and most influential of his brothers, according to the constitution his immediate heir)

Louis (father to the boy whom most people saw as Napoleon’s likely future heir)

Jérome (last remaining of his brothers)

Murat (last remaining and highest-ranking family member still in Paris, most respected in the army among all the relatives)

While Lucien of course famously had exiled himself even before the empire. - From what I have read about other courts, it was not unusual to see people flock around other influential figures than the monarch, especially around a possible heir, forming different parties in more or less overt opposition to each other and to certain policies. While it made a court a hotbet for intrigues, it also made it possible for different views and attitudes to coexist there, and to confront the monarch with them. I often feel like Napoleon was keen on removing his relatives from court simply because it removed a source of possible opposition.

Metternich continues:

The military seek only bruises and wounds, especially since he who escapes death is sure of immense rewards.

This must have made for interesting battlefield conversations: Excuse me, sir, before I kill you off, could be so kind as to wound me a little? Nothing too serious, if you please, but with lots of blood. I finally want that damned cross, you know.

There is only one state in France which opens the way to everything, to fortune, to titles, to the constant protection of the Sovereign: it is the military state; one would say that France is populated solely by soldiers and by citizens created to serve it by the sweat of their brow.

The other party is composed of the great mass of the nation, an inert and immovable mass, like the remains of an extinct volcano. At the head of this mass are the most eminent persons of the civil state, and principally M. de Talleyrand, the Minister of Police, and all those who have fortunes to keep, who see no stability in institutions based on ruins, and which, rather than leaning on a durable state of affairs, the anxious genius of the Emperor surrounds only with new ruins.

I’m not sure if Metternich is right in drawing such a clear line between these two parties, to me the distinction seems much more blurry. Plenty of high-ranking officers had married into the circles “who have fortunes to keep”, after all. And there are lots of reports about unrest in the army already from the Polish campaign in 1807. The alleged “Philadelphes” conspiracy is mentioned a lot in German sources for the campaign of 1809, for what those are worth.

This party has existed since 1805; the war of 1806 and 1807 strengthened its means; the bad success of the enterprise against Spain in 1808 made the leaders of the party and their arguments popular; what previous successes had not been able to mitigate had to be strengthened by reverses caused by the most disastrous and immoral of calculations.

This last expression probably refers to the coup in Spain and Napoleon forcing the Bourbons to abdicate so he could put Joseph on the Spanish throne. Which, in my opinion, was not only immoral but mostly clumsy and stupid.

It is in the nature of things that two parties directly opposed can only gain strength at the expense of each other. The reverses in Spain, the destruction of several army corps, the reflux into the interior of troops sustained and fed up to now at the expense of foreigners; the drying up of a host of pecuniary resources, the upheaval given to France by the passage of so many columns which cross it in all directions, all these facts, combined with a hundred other considerations, have weakened the party of universal destruction and strengthened, consequently, the party of interior consolidation, which is only composed of elements equally protective of us.

That’s mostly interesting to me because it alludes to the pecuniary problems Napoleon faced around that very time (or actually always during periods of peace): His army simply was way, WAY too big and a constant drain on France’s finances, even counting the enormous war recompensations the defeated enemies usually had to pay. The Bourbons on returning to France will in the end have to solve that problem that Napoleon merely dragged out as long as he could. But he was very aware of it and tried to find reasons to keep as many troops outside of France as possible, where they had to be provided for and paid by the host country.

I’m not sure if Metternich is necessarily right in everything but he was a diplomat by trade and likely to correctly evaluate his sources. Overall, it’s an interesting assessment of France’s true situation around the time of the congress of Erfurt, and before Napoleon’s Spanish campaign.

#napoleonic era #Paris 1808 #clemens metternich #spain 1808

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taskignored · 1 year

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Highlords are Iffy

Does anyone else get this really icky feeling in ACOTAR when they read about Amarantha's curse, the party where she shackled the HLs, and the brief mention of camps Lucien talks about at some point?

A bit ranty under the cut I warn you.

It's just the idea that millions (or billions I have no clue) have to pay the price for their HLs' mistakes. Sure, some of those HL paid the ultimate price with their lives, they got punished and tortured, but at some point I don't feel as bad for them as I do for their people.

Their people didn't drink the wine. They didn't choose to hold court with Amarantha (b4 the curse). They did literally nothing to deserve 50 years of torment. And what stings the most is that all that could have been avoided if they just sniffed their drinks.

Seven people consigned an island to misery because of their courtesy ~

Could you imagine? Being a fae citizen, minding your own business, and then suddenly having to deal with the fallout of your HL's fuckup? I'd be pissed. And to add insult to injury, the small detail that it could've all been avoided if someone, just one HL, or their aids, if someone had just sniffed the wine! It makes me so angry, like every fae from every court should've considered locking their HL away for that, or find some way to prevent it from ever happening again. If HLs who have had literal centuries of experience could be duped, their replacements probably wouldn't hold up under scrutiny. And some might argue that they would learn from the Amarantha incident, but if I were a fae who lived through that, I wouldn't put much faith in that idea, or leave it up to chance. And who would in that situation?

Fae live long lives and are supposed to be quick to violence, so why would they tolerate such ineptitude? because the HLs are so much more powerful? I sincerely doubt it, especially since Amarantha demonstrated that they could be brought low.

Plus what also makes me upset is the fact that Amarantha will always be completely blamed for the terrible shit that happened and that the HLs who let it happen will just be called victims for being duped. and I'm not saying that the HLs weren't victims, they were, it's just that an entire island full of people paid the price for their mistake.

Amarantha wielded the butcher's knife for the island, but the HLs gave it to her. Even if it was unintentional.

#anti sjm #amarantha sucks tbh #HLs should've been humbled in my opinion #The fae should've been pissed #anti rhysand #HLs might be a cool idea but they suck in practice

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isamajor · 9 months

Text

Whump drabbles : Lucien Flavius

I- « Does that hurt ? » / Stabilization

They had been attacked by an entire troop of conjurers while passing near a fort in Eastmarch. The fight was long, difficult, and in the end, victory tasted bitterly of blood. Lucien had been able to preserve himself by fighting the mages from a distance and now acted as a healer for his crippled friends, stabilizing their wounds with his healing spells, so much so that in the end, his arms were shaking.

"Does that hurt?" asked Inigo, concerned.

Lucien bit his lip. Using to the last of his Magicka's resources was painful, yes. But that was the price for saving the others. (104)

•

II- « You're doing great »

Compared to the rest of the troop, Lucien generally acted like a spoiled baby, struggling to defend himself alone, relying on the ability of the other members of the group to ensure his survival. But gradually, he was developing certain reflexes and when Draugr were about to strike with their icy blades, the young Imperial was able to quickly ignite them with his spells. It was almost getting scary. But it made Inigo smile with all his fangs, who never stopped encouraging Lucien.

« Good job, Lucien. You did well here. You are becoming a very powerful mage. I will try to tease you less... » (104)

•

III– Bite

Remiel smirked as she wrapped Lucien’s bleeding hand in a linen bandage.

"You told us you were good with animals, Lucien."

Lucien emitted a small cry when the Breton added a bit more pressure to the wound.

"I usually am, but I didn't imagine that puppy would try bite my hand off."

She rolled her eyes with an audible sigh.

"It was a wolf, Lucien ! Even if it seemed fluffy and friendly it's a beast, not a dog ! And it probably has rockjoint and Mara knows what other disease ! Anyway, you should ask Xel to brew you a potion." (102)

•

IV - Self-defense

The bandit's dagger lightly nicked Lucien's cheek, who, with a squeak, casted a ward to try to protect himself from the guy who wanted to kill him and rob him. With little hope, he tried to parley with his assailant.

“Radical suggestion here, but I was wondering... Have you considered not trying to murder me ?”

In response, the bandit tried to stab him again, until his magical ward broke, leaving Lucien helpless and staggering. Without thinking, in self-defense, the Imperial cast a flame spell. Lucien looked horrified when he saw that turned his foe into a living torch. (100)

•

V - Choke

The anger had clouded his mind. His friends were down, deceived by what had turned out to be scoundrels of the worst kind. Lucien's blue gaze darkened. Instinctively, he casted the Choking Grasp spell on the bandit in front of him. Every attempt of the guy to suck in some air was met with a suffocating struggle.Lucien could see in the bandit's eyes the panic welled up in him as he choked and his eyes clouded over, clawing at the invisible magical hands, desperate for release, but the Imperial, with a cold rage look, held him captive of his spell. (103)

•

VI– Panic attack

It snuck up on him out of the blue. Lucien was standing in the inn, talking to some merchant. Abruptly, he felt his heart racing beyond any semblance of control. His big blue eyes widened as he began to feel light-headed. Lucien's breathing soon followed, desperately gasping for oxygen yet feeling like somehow there wasn’t enough in the room. It was the first time it occured to him. The enxiety grew on him and he laid down on a bench, fully convinced that he actually dying. Until that feeling came to an end, letting him shaky, confused and exhausted. (102)

•

VII– Knife to throat

Lucien squeaked when the bandit grabbed him by the collar of his tunic and dragged him up to his knees. He was ready to fight back with his magic, but the shining blade in the bandit's hand made him hesitate a second too many. The brigand pressed the knife to his throat and Lucien went very still. The knife pressed firmly under his Adam's apple began to notch lightly the skin of his throat. He had to focus to prevent himself to shiver too hard. Lucien closed his eyes, hoping his friends would get him out of this tight spot.

•

VIII– Bruises / « Who did this to you ? »

They found Lucien laying down on the grass. His lips were swollen, his nose bleeding and had some big visibles bruises on the jaw and shoulders. But he was alive, it was all that mattered. Already his companions had rushed to hand him some healing potion but the blow he got to the mouth prevented him to drink it. He tried to move. It only made the Imperial whine, his bruises being too painful.

His ears back and his fangs curled, Inigo growled, visibly furious.

« Who did this to you, my friend ? Tell me, so I can put an arrow through his eyes. » (103)

•

IX – Friendly fire

Lucien was becoming a very powerful mage. It was fearsome to see the young man, with his big blue eyes and his friendly face, being able to unleash a complete inferno on ennemies threatening his or his friends' lives. But, alas, he was often as clumsy he was powerful. And sometimes, his friends who were too close to an enemy would suffer of his spells. Inigo would roar in pain his tail was on fire, his fur was singed or his whiskers burned. Kaidan would groan that's why he hates mages, unable to control their magic. (97)

•

X – « I said I'm fine »

« Steady on there, Kaidan. You've lost a bit of blood. »

Kaidan sighed, a little annoyed, replying to Lucien he was fine. The cut wasn't that deep, even if the blood smeared on his whole leg. He knew Lucien was just worried about him. He always was. About everyone. As if the team wasn't worried for this milkdrinker, so fragile and clumsy. The Imperial brandished a health potion in front of his face.

« I said I 'm fine. ». Kaidan's voice was a bit harsher this time. It wasn't the first his first wound. He would get through it. (102)

•

XI– Self-treatment

Inside the crypt, a thick metal gate separated Lucien from the rest of the group. The scholar was injured in the process but tried to hide his wound. When most of the squad left to find a way to open this gate, he whispered to Inigo :

« I... I don't feel so good, Inigo. I'm bleeding. »

With horror, the Khajiit realized he hadn't any health potion in his backpack.

« I will... put some pressure on it. I'm sure that will be fine... » said Lucien, trying to reassure him, adding « ...Any linen wrap ? So I can... try to make a bandage ? » (103)

•

XII– Choking

Lucien had found some strange spell tomes, with ominous names on them. He was a bit worried, should he learn things like this ? But curiosity was always stronger. He opened the tome named "Chocking Grasp" and read it. Lucien suggested the Dragonborn to train with him.

« Be careful not to... Choke on your aspirations. How's that ? », the Imperial scholar tried to joke. He watched his wide-eyed, breathless, guinea pig gesturing frantically around their nose.

« Oh ? Too much on the nose ? I'll work on it. » he added a bit nervously, serching how to undo the spell before his friend runs out of oxygen. (105)

•

XIII – Fracture

Attacked by bandits. Again. Was this where all of the fighting age population of Skyrim ended up? To escape conscription in the civil war that was ravaging the region? Deep in thought, Lucien saw the sledgehammer coming too late. By reflex, he protected his face with his arm, but nothing protected his arm from the iron that fell forcefully on him. He howled. He felt his legs give way beneath him and rolled to the floor whimpering, holding his good hand to his bloody forearm. He could see a spike of broken bone protruding through the gaping wound. His arm was done for, broken. (104)

•

XIV– Surrender

All that for a stray arrow that had mowed down a chicken in the town. The population had become hostile and a horde of guards was already running, swords out. The blows rained down and they defended themselves as best they could. Lucien squeaked "We surrender!!!" while holding his hands high, hoping for mercy from the guards. The others watched the scene apprehensively. Instead of politely apprehending him or letting him speak, the guards threw him to the ground, shoving him facedown in the mud. Seeing this, his friends saw red. Despite Lucien's protests, they violently attacked the guards. (100)

•

XV – Human shield

Before these Draugr, these ancient Nords reanimated by who knows what old magic and who watched over the secrets of Dragon priests, Inigo the Brave was nothing more than a terrified little kitten. These undead froze his spine, and the memories of receiving his facial scars from their withered fingers were still painful. Lucien stood between the Draugr's blade and his friend, like a shield, with glints of defiance in his eyes, chin high and fire magic in his palms. The scrawny blond Imperial was just as frightened, but he couldn't afford to show it: his friend needed him. (101)

•

XVI – Gag

They had found themselves in a Falmer-infested cavern. The darkness, barely lit by the reflection of the glowing mushrooms on the dripping walls of the cavern, was stifling. Lucian squeaked. Instinctively, Auri clapped her hand over his mouth, telling him to be quiet. The Falmer were blind, but their hearing was very keen, even allowing them to fire their bows with surprising accuracy. Everyone here preferred to try to avoid confrontation as much as possible. Auri whispered into Lucien's ear that she wouldn't hesitate to gag him at the next moan that came out of his lips. (100)

•

XVII – Strangle

He saw the undead set upon Inigo, whose blue fur was stained with red. Lucien had exhausted all his Magicka against these constantly rising enemies. He felt helpless to rescue his companions. Staggering backwards, his foot stumbled against a chain. He looked up. The necromancer was there, back to him. Gritting his teeth, the Imperial leapt up and slipped the chain around the sorcerer's neck, squeezing and turning, falling with the necromancer clawing at his neck desperately for air, frantically kicking his feet. Lucien was crying, shaking, but didn't let go. He would save his friends. (98)

•

XVIII– Bedridden

Kaidan groaned as he struggled miserably to prop himself up on one elbow before sinking back onto the pillow. Lucien reprimanded him, telling him to calm down because he was burning with fever. He made it clear to the colossus that he would not leave this bed as long as he was not recovered.

"I'll bet 100 septims it's from an infected wound."

Kaidan looked away in response, muttering that it was going to cost a fortune to keep him in an inn bed all this time.

"Then it's fortunate my wealth is useful. But please, don't be stupid, you need to take care of yourself."(108)

•

XIX – Distrust

When they arrived at Winterhold, cold stares greeted them at the Frozen Hearth inn. The city now was nothing more than a heap of ruins, half-collapsed in the Sea of Ghosts. Only the famous Academy of magic seemed intact and majestic. When Lucien politely asked how to access it, the looks turned hateful. People spat on the ground at their feet. The mages had lost the people's trust in Skyrim. Between the Oblivion Crisis, the collapse of the city of Winterhold, and the rise of Altmer supremacism, the Nords had now plenty of reason to hate magic. (99)

•

XX – Ensnare

The problem with venturing into not very reputable places with people much more experienced than you, is that them, they were used to spotting and avoiding traps.

Lucien yelped in pain. He had stepped straight into a bear trap and now his calf was trapped between two strong iron jaws. He had wanted to avoid the bone garland that served as an alarm, and hadn't seen the metal trap stretched under his foot. And with his scream, obviously all the bandits would be aware of their presence, come for them, and try to murder them... (96)

•

XXI – Blindfold

His curiosity had been the strongest. Stronger than knowing the dangers of laying eyes on an Elder Scroll without the usual training and preparations of Moth Priests. But the thirst for knowledge was as much Lucien's greatest quality as his greatest flaw. When he rolled up the parchment after staring at it for a few long seconds, his gaze was blank, his pupils dilated. He felt sight leaving him. The Imperial tied a piece of cloth around his eyes in a blindfold to keep them out of the light, hoping that this blindness would be reversible... (97)

•

XXII – Sore

He was unaccustomed to the harsh, cold life of the Nords. Neither to hunger, thirst, nor to forced marches until they find good shelter. Having to fight for this shelter. To fight with the intention of dearly saving his skin, despite the protectors he had at his side. Lucien wasn't used to the pain every night in his aching muscles. To the bruises that marked his sides after a bad shield blow. He was crippled with small pains, of course, but the adventure and all that he discovered day after day pushed him to continue every day, despite feeling sore all over. (103)

•

XXIII – Pinned

The bump of his head against the wall made him squint and wince. Kaidan had pushed him away with some violence, out of anger. His harsh and sarcastic words had hurt the mercenary Akaviri. Lucien felt intellectually superior to this man who had spent his childhood wandering half of Tamriel. But he realized now bitterly, that intellect did not mean sagacity, facing a colossus who had pinned him effortlessly against the nearest wall. Lucien did not dare to move. He didn't want to piss him off anymore. He knew that Kaidan's big gloved fists could easily smash his face, if he wanted to. (104)

•

XXIV – Shock

The shock made him drop the sword he was holding in his hand. With difficulty, Lucien turned his head. The mage was there, crouched in the tall grass, sending out lightning bolts. Lucien moaned at the painful, aching sensation of his muscles contracting. It hurt so much... He wanted to push back those electric arcs with his own magic, but to his great despair, he felt his Magicka reserves draining at a maddening speed. He dropped to his knees. His body was riddled with involuntary tremors. The repeated electric shocks threatened to knock him down for good, if someone didn't intervene... (102)

•

XXV – Helpless

Lucien's usually sharp mind and vast knowledge were of no use in this situation. Cornered by a group of scoundrels who had seen him arrive with his nose in his books, his attempts to reason with them were met with harsh laughter before they decide to hit and rob him. Lucien, trying to protect his books, couldn't even cast a spell before being knocked down by a punch, leaving him breathless and defenseless. He felt totally helpless in this alley of Riften, feeling his clothes being ripped off in search of money or jewelry, under the threat of more blows. (102)

•

XXVI : Blood

The adrenaline of the fight was waning and Lucien discovered with a dazed air the grass of the reddened plain and the acrid smell of metal everywhere. Lucien had fought for his life, fear in his stomach. He looked down at his feet and the reddened, sticky leather of his shoes. His usually white, clean hands were dripping with blood. He felt the blood sticking to his face. He saw him staining his fine clothes. He couldn't tell if it was his own blood or that of the bandits who had attacked them. Lucien felt his head buzzing and his legs shaking. (103)

#skyrim #skyrim custom followers #lucien flavius #whump #depictions of violence and pain #whump drabble #my squishy little Imperial whumpee

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writing-for-life · 2 months

Note

Hellooooooooo if you’re still doing the fandom ask game— can i ask 6, 7, 14?? 😊💜

I am so happy you found the way into my inbox, @safeuphigh

Here we go:

6. something you see in art a lot and love

Dream and some sort of cosmic/stellar references, be they stars, night skies, constellations, nebulae, whether they’re part of him or he’s surrounded by them.

Plus, I am the #sparkle content curator, so there’s definitely that, and there’s no shortage of Dream thirst art 🤣

7. your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

First of all: Tropes are good! They help with genre expectations (and also with sales), so we have to stop feeling icky about them and just go “that one’s for me, that one isn’t.”

Reading and writing, because I like roughly the same in both:

I admit it, I am a sucker for soulmates. I know it’s mostly unrealistic (or maybe it isn’t, because I’ve definitely found mine. Maybe the unrealistic bit is rather that people assume that’s where the work ends?), but I just can’t help it.

Unbreakable codes and rules (and the chaos that ensues because naturally, someone has to break them).

Older characters as mentors (really).

Puzzles and MacGuffins.

The Quest/Hero(ine)s Journey (yes, it’s a series of tropes)

Paying the price.

Righting Past Wrongs.

And of course, Love is always the answer (doesn’t have to be romantic love).

In art:

I don’t know, I find that much harder because if I think of my own art, I draw both abstract and realistic, and different tropes work very differently (or not at all) in different art styles for me. Maybe sad eyes, distant stares, male lines/female curves (which isn’t the same as broad shoulders and big tits 🤣)?

14. the ship that always makes you smile

Difficult because I don’t really ship that much.

In terms of crack ships, it obviously has to be Muhulhu.

And definitely Morpheus/Thalia (my OFC), because they just make me laugh and cry. They don’t even ask anymore if I think something makes sense because they just know what makes sense to them and shamelessly use me to bring it to the page.

And Lucien(ne)/Merv? They just make me cackle as a ship. I always imagine them to have this “we’ve been together for aeons, love each other while simultaneously getting on each other’s nerves, but we laugh about the same shit and roll our eyes at the same nonsense”-energy to me. Fly on the wall-material…

#fandom ask game #asks answered #the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #sandman art #sandman fanfic #literary tropes #art tropes

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thesupreme316 · 10 months

Note

bronco nima & lucien price x female reader (platonic) the boys help their best friend through a rough break up. i could imagine bronco wanting to kill the guy and lucien comforting the lady.

Bronco Nima & Lucien Price Comforting You After A Break-Up:

Word Count: 1K

Supreme Speaks: Thanks to @hooks-martin for requesting this, I hope it lives up to your expectations. Please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: barely proofread, sorry about that

If ya’ll haven’t checked out Bronco and Lucien, do yourself a favor and go do it now

I think that they would be at your house before you could even finish your sentence

You and your partner of 2 years broke up due to differences yesterday

You were okay because you two just grew apart

So you thought

But then you found out they had a secret affair with someone going on for 1 year…and he proposed to the girl today (this was inspired by a reddit story)

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back

You were hysterical, letting out every drop of anger and sadness in your body

You were also currently on the phone with your best friends; crying about the situation

Next thing you know, your doorbell rang

You opened the door, eyes full of tears, to see your best friends standing with your favorite ice cream, tissues, car keys, and a blanket

Lucien: get your shoes on and get in the car. We’re going for a late drive

He’s the calm one in the situation; thinking logically and believing that you need fresh air

You quietly got in the back of Lucien’s car and ate your ice cream as the blanket was draped over you

And Bronco?

Bronco wants to kick someone; he didn’t say a word, he just sat in the front seat, seething

He literally wants to kill your ex, and quite possibly the girl too, but he’s restraining himself

For you, the drive made you feel a little better and definitely allowed you to cool your head with the radio playing in the background and Lucien asking different questions to distract you

After driving around, they went back to your house

“Thanks guys for coming out here at 11 PM to deal with my dumb issues,” You said, flopping on the couch.

Lucien rubbed your back, “Your issues are never dumb. We’ll always be here for you. Your issues are our issues,” He said looking to Bronco for reassurance, who was just pacing with his arms crossed. “Right, Bronco?”

Bronco quickly snapped his head up, “Yeah. Sweetheart, you can always come to us about anything.” He stated before he started to pace again.

You leaned up to whisper to Luicen, “What’s wrong with him?”

“You know how he gets when someone messes with you. So he’s a little angry right now,” He whispered back

“Y’all talking about me?” Bronco's voice slightly boomed, making the two of you shake your head. “I’m gonna make you a sandwich 'cause I don’t think you ate anything besides that damn ice cream,” He said before going to the kitchen. No matter how mad he may be, Bronco always made sure to take care of you first.

In the meanwhile, Lucien was putting on Netflix for y’all to watch while y’all waited. As the show of your choice was opening, there was a knock at your door. Lucien, looking confused, got up ad went to the door. He looked in the peephole, rolled his eyes, and sat back down. “Who was it?” You asked

“It’s your ex, with flowers.” Lucien said before whispering “Jackass” You looked at the door, before looking down. Lucien spoke up again as your ex continued to knock on the door, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Just know, I fully support whatever it is that you do.”

Sighing, you get up and decided to answer the door. Your ex was standing there as Lucien said with flowers and a remorseful face. “Y/N! I thought you would never answer!”  “What do you want?”

“You back.” He said, almost making you laugh. The same man who cheated on you, left you, and tried to marry another girl wanted you back? Crazy. “I made a big mistake! I know it wasn’t right, but I’m back now. We can be together again, like how we should be,”

You bitterly chuckled, “What about your fiancé? She kicked your no-good self to the curb?”  “We’re over, it’s you who I want.”

You were about to speak until Lucien's voice called out, “Well she doesn’t want your stupid ass!”

Your ex tried to look over you to find the voice, “Who was that? Oh, so you moved on that quickly? I should have known.”

“What? You moved on first, before we even ended our relationship! Look, can you just leave before there are more problems, please?”

“My pleasure. Enjoy being right back where you were.” Your ex said turning his back as you closed the door. You huffed, before taking your original seat next to Lucien.

Lucien wrapped his arm around you, “You did well. Not the way I wouldn’t have done it, but you did very well.”

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, “How would have you done it?”

He smiled, “I wouldn’t have answered the door.” You both laughed as Bronco entered the living room and plated the sandwich in front of you. He then started to move towards the door. “Where you going, man?”

“I need to take out the trash,” Bronco said as he walked out the door. You took a bite of the delicious sandwich, but then you realized something.

“Lucien, the trashcan is in my backyard.” You said.

His eyes widened, “And he didn’t have a trash bag with him.” As you both looked at each other with wide eyes, a scream from outside broke the moment of silence. From what you could tell, it was your ex’s voice. Lucien looked out the window, briefly smiled, and turned back to you. “Bronco’s fine.”

As if on cue, you heard tires screech away from your house and Bronco entered your house, huffing. His man bun was now lopsided and his right hand was turning red. Closing the door, he simply said, “I’m gonna go ice my hand.” He walked to the kitchen, making a small smile appear on your face.

“See? I told you, he’s fine.” Lucien said, clicking back to Netflix.

You don’t know what you would do without your boys protecting and comforting you.

And to be honest, you didn’t wanna find out.

#wwe #wwe nxt #nxt #nxt imagine #nxt headcanon #bronco nima #bronco nima imagines #bronco nima x reader #lucien prince #lucien price #lucien prince imagine #lucien price imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling imagine

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theladyofbloodshed · 1 year

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Okay this is what i feel what Nesta and Lucien look like (mind you, just how i feel):

1. Supporttive. Like babeeee. Lucien is supportive of tamlin. I mean, he is. And lucien "let me support your heavy tit with my hand" vanserra

2. Will there be a catching fish with bare hands. Cuz we got helion ripped the beast apart with his hands and that is very sexy of him.

3. Lucien actually commenting and reviewing the smut book nesta read? Cuz, lmaoooo. That boy got bored and Eris five him reco 200 years ago. And he be "yea, why cant he showed up and be honest? Such a dick" then the discussion quicly escalated to how toxic the FL first love. Lmaoo, imagine the three of them meet and Nesta goes "whats ur current smut reading eris?"

4. Academic ish rivalry. Lucien did say he take lesson back in Autumn court. Can lucien tutor nestaa (i am screaming at this idea)? Tutor her the law of accounting in prythian? Tutor her how taxes each court work? Tithe and sort? Lucien tying his hair back and nesta got distracted. Nesta tying her hair and lucien got distrcted by her neck.

5. Travel. I want this two to travel and nesta accidentally set a bbq set on fire. Lucien panic and run for water instead of absorbing the water into his power instead.

6. Pastries hunting. Oh i know Nesta must have love pastried. But the price make her cringe because she never got any spare money after the rent, and drinking. They sit at their cute home with the pastried, drink tea and open discussion. Want to cry? Perfect cuz there is a sweet treat after. Lucien threathened nesta to finish her confession or he will swallow all the donut. Or Nesta wanting to make run with her cake.

Love all of these headcanons.

Also wish book 1 lucien would come back with his snark and swearing and Nesta finds it unbelievably sexy when lucien insults somebody.

#anon asks

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songofthesibyl · 6 months

Text

Grotesque

A few weeks ago I got a request to write the scene of Feyre’s arrival Under the Mountain (chapter 34 of A Court of Thorns and Roses) from Tamlin’s POV:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51222193

It was becoming tiresome. At a distance, everything flashed, blended together. Already. He had done his work well, he was safely inside. He imagined the sun on his back, curled up as a dog before a fire, the smell of warm earth and roses. Light rippling on the surface of a starlit pool. He smiled—inside still, always—he could see it in the play of light and shadow, how she had used color to show the glassy surface, and the silver, and the entirety of the spectrum that was held within. Limitless possibilities, wishes granted, happiness unending. An eternity of freedom, immortality of impression. Long after he was gone, he thought, her paintings would endure. Perhaps some future High Lord would find them. Or, after ages, when Prythian was finally ruined, and wild, every Court like the Middle, through walls of blackened, twisted bramble, a curious human would bravely venture inside, and come across his gallery, and know the works that had been done by human hands. Perhaps a descendant, or—not so far. A son, a daughter. Perhaps she had found Isaac waiting, and over time, as the glamour faded, her feelings would deepen, and she would find some measure of happiness. She had painted Isaac in a manner that did not belie pain, or fear. Maybe he would come, and find them, and save them from destruction. He would take the painting of the glen, for its beauty, and the one of the two of them—but perhaps. Perhaps he would leave her painting of the winter woods behind. Such a painful time, surely she would not want it. And it, and she, would endure somehow, until the end of time. When this mountain crumbled on top of them. Just as his mask would endure, while he rotted underneath.

He had never been so close to Rhysand, for almost five hundred years, as he had in the days since had been here. It was disarming at first, however much he did not resemble the male he had known so long ago, who had shown him such kindness that both now sorely regretted. He had earned a certain freedom here, enough to go abroad, if only in her service, to torment and murder. The price paid, for getting close to an enemy. And he wore his mask well, yet it was thinning, and in their closeness he could begin to see what lay underneath. He had noticed before, in his manor. How sallow his skin had become, a hollowness around the eyes. A wasting sickness, like the one that affected humans—he was being consumed by this place. If he were allowed to show his wings, if he were inclined to, he imagined they would be tearing at intervals. He wondering if he would still be able to fly.

If he himself could. If he would be able to sport fangs, and claws again. If Rhysand, in almost fifty years, had not found one moment in which to release his talons and slit Amarantha’s throat. He felt Rhysand’s power at his manor, too—felt it here, greater than his own. And yet nothing. He almost wanted to listen to Lucien now, and make one great last stand as Summer, Winter, and Day. It would be suicide, though, with no plan, no one willing to stand with him. Rhysand, or anyone else. And so instead, for the past few days since being brought Under the Mountain, he had sat. And been contented to be numb, and distant. But it was already blending together, the screams of torment further and further away, himself deeper. And he looked at Rhysand’s skin, his eyes, and bemoaned it happening to him. But it was already happening. He could not endure it otherwise. And he was already tired of Amarantha’s sadistic smile, the endless parade of depravity and pain. And Clare still on the wall, rotting. And how relieved he was that it was not Feyre. And what that made of him. It was already happening.

It would happen again. Suddenly, everything in his body seized up, every animal that had made its shelter in him squawked and howled and roared, a beating of wings and a baring of teeth. He had expected another boring night at Amarantha’s side, of blankly watching soulless revels, listening to jarring, dissonant music. Rhysand’s fawning and preening. He had imagined himself becoming him and thought it was his worst fate, only a few days in. And he had prepared for it, and now, as the possibility ebbed away forever, he desired it back. Let him be hidden, let him be taken piece by piece, let him rot away under his mask. But not this. Anything but this.

He silenced the menagerie inside himself, thought that Amarantha’s monsters must have gone back, and found something of Feyre’s to taunt him with, now that he had disappointed Amarantha by not giving her any sport with Clare. A tunic, her Solstice dress, something from her room. Or perhaps they had gone and taken her paintings, knowing which ones had been done by human hands, seeing their place of honor on his walls. Now, they would go beside Amarantha’s self-proclaimed work of art, that she would, that they would now all see daily. And Feyre’s paintings hung beside. That was it. It was not her. She had not been found. They had not realized. Rhysand had not told them. The human being brought before them was one of the poor, misguided Children of the Blessed—Amarantha had taken so many of them over the years. It was awful, and terrible, and he was already sick of it. But it was not her. He did not see her. She was not here.

The animals stilled at his command. The boredom he had felt weigh on him only a moment before, now affected. He was not as good at the performance as Rhysand. But he thought he might turn into him now, instead of in weeks, months, years. Be convincing. Let nothing show, of what was underneath. He had made his peace. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Feyre was not supposed to be here.

“What’s this?” Amarantha said, unimpressed, uninterested. Feyre looked to him. He felt her, everywhere, her scent penetrated every part of him that he had taken such pains to lock away. But he stared at nothing, listening to Amarantha and her Attor speak, and not hearing. And Feyre’s eyes, and his feet unmoving. She was so close he could almost touch her. He wondered who had shown her the way here.

She rose to her feet, terror in her bones, as there should have been, but resolve, and defiance in her eyes. He caught a glimpse of Clare behind her.

“I’ve come to claim the one I love.” A steady, but quiet voice. She looked at him again. A shudder went through him, just as his heart filled. It was all over now.

“Oh?” He saw Amarantha lean forward out of the corner of his eyes. A predator, leaning in before it pounced on its prey. There was a quick calculation if he could rip her head off before she realized.

He couldn’t.

“I’ve come to claim Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.”

An intake of breath, silence in the hall. Amarantha laughed, and looked at him. Looking, they were all looking at him. He had so disappointed her with Clare. She would get nothing now.

It took a moment of her insulting him on his taste in women before she realized. He sensed the pleasure in her, delight naked on her face, in her voice. He wanted to recoil from it.

“Oh, you are delicious. You let me torture that innocent girl to keep this one safe? You lovely thing! You actually made a human worm love you. Marvelous.”

She clapped in her delight, and the sound echoing through the room shook him, and he faltered, turning away from her. It had seemed so long ago. But Clare was still there, looking down on all of them, waiting.

“Let him go.” Feyre’s voice began to waver.

Another laugh stilled him again, and he righted himself. She would see. See what he had already become here. What she had forfeited her life for.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t destroy you where you stand, human.”

“You tricked him. He is bound unfairly.”

Amarantha continued savoring each word, drawing it out—but eventually, she pointed to the spot on the wall, and Feyre turned, and looked. And his crime was laid bare.

“Perhaps I should have listened when she said she’d never seen Tamlin before. Or when she insisted she’d never killed a faerie, never hunted a day in her life. Though her screaming was delightful. I haven’t heard such lovely music in ages. I should thank you for giving Rhysand her name instead of yours.”

Feyre stood still in horror, until the Attor turned her back around to face them.

“Come now, precious. What have you to say to that?”

Feyre’s eyes went to him for a moment. He willed her. Yes. You see now what I am. What I have become, so soon in your absence. Now run. Even as he knew it was pointless, he pleaded, he begged her. Run.

“Do you still wish to claim someone who would do that to an innocent?” Amarantha went on.

Feyre turned from him. “Yes. Yes, I do.” Fight remaining in her voice. For him.

“Well, Tamlin,” he wanted to flinch as Amarantha put a claiming hand on his arm. Everything fled, recoiled from her touch. But the animals held him still. “I don’t suppose you ever expected this to occur.”

She indicated Feyre, and he heard a ripple of laughter through the hall that he longed to silence.

“What do you have to say, High Lord?”

There was a silence then. A waiting. He made himself very, very still. “I’ve never seen her before. Someone must have glamoured her as a joke. Probably Rhysand.”

A desperate attempt, after Clare.

“Oh, that’s not even a halfway decent lie.” She paused for a moment, and he sensed the shift, the realization. And how it would condemn Feyre. “Could it be—could it be that you, despite your words so many years ago, return the human’s feelings? A girl with hate in her heart for our kind has managed to fall in love with a faerie. And a faerie whose father once slaughtered the human masses by my side has actually fallen in love with her too?” She croaked with laughter, and he felt the venom behind it, the salivating of her mouth. “Oh, this is too good—this is too fun.” She lowered her head, and spoke to Jurian. “I suppose if anyone can appreciate the moment, it would be you, Jurian. A pity your human whore on the side never bothered to save you, though.”

He ignored her, looking at Feyre, from within the layers sheltering him. A long howl in the wilderness, alone in winter woods. He saw her pleading, her not understanding, her seeking for some sign. She was alone, and he was the father who sat and did not fight, and shaped wood. He was stone. A grotesque warning her to flee. But she wouldn’t. And he would find out, if the salivating on Amarantha’s tongue would be enough to sustain her, for now.

“Things have been awfully boring since Clare decided to die on me. Killing you outright, human, would be dull.” His heart strained inside him. “But Fate stirs the Cauldron in strange ways. Perhaps my darling Clare had to die in order for me to have some true amusement with you.”

He would kill her. He would kill her.

“You came to claim Tamlin? Well, as it happens, I’m bored to tears of his sullen silence. I was worried when he didn’t flinch while I played with darling Clare, when he didn’t even show those lovely claws…But I’ll make a bargain with you, human.”

His hands, his mouth, ached. His throat burned. They wanted to come out, it wanted to come out.

“You complete three tasks of my choosing—three tasks to prove how deep that human sense of loyalty and love runs, and Tamlin is yours. Just three little challenges to prove your dedication, to prove to me, to darling Jurian, that your kind can indeed love true, and you can have your High Lord.” She turned to him. “Consider it a favor, High Lord—these human dogs can make our kind so lust-blind that we lose all common sense. Better for you to see her true nature now.”

He might have said something about Feyre’s true nature already being shown here, but she spoke instead, drawing Amarantha’s attention back.

“I want his curse broken, too.”

He could see Amarantha’s teeth gleaming even out of the corner of his eye. This attempt from a human to outwit the female who had managed to subdue all seven High Lords—ten, counting those she had murdered. Feyre had spoken to someone—Alis, perhaps—she had an air of confidence, she considered her words carefully in the now deathly-silent hall. The details of the bargain, Amarantha’s addition of a riddle that would free them all immediately if answered correctly. Breaths, all of time, stood still as this human considered—this human girl with no power, no magic, no real sense of what she had stepped into, or what she faced, but for the body behind her, another grotesque, an omen, a promise. There was fear, but a resolute bravery, as one who faces certain death on the battlefield and yet forges ahead all the same. She did not cow, or beg. Instead she stood tall, and faced Amarantha fully. For him. The part of himself he would not yield grew until it filled him, struggling against his bonds, un-glamoured, threatening to break through and fill the darkened space with golden light. But then Feyre looked at him, and it would not burst through, the stone remained intact, and as they bargained, the horror crept back, forcing him back into himself. He felt flush from the strain. Feyre had already revealed her true nature, but Amarantha would only use it to destroy her. He had told her. He had sent her away. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Look at me. Look at my mask. Remember Clare. And do not bind yourself to her killer.

“If I complete your three tasks or solve your riddle, you’ll do as I request?”

“Of course,” Amarantha replied, her voice calm and even. “Is it agreed?”

No. Don’t do this. He looked at Feyre, the strain overwhelming him, and his eyes widened, a momentary lapse. The stone is supposed to stay a stone, as it warns. But he saw the slight shift in her demeanor. Still the weight of her decision, but it had already been made. If he spoke now, if he moved, it would be nothing but pain for her. But the desire ached in him, as teeth struggling to grow, as claws scraping under skin. Feyre was strong, she was insanely brave, braver than all of them, and he loved her. But she would be bound. To torture, to suffering, to this forsaken place. And he did not want her so, because of him. But if she agreed—there was nothing he, or anyone could do, to undo it.

“Well?”

Feyre looked at him one more time before she said the next word. “Agreed.”

And he was too late. Amarantha snapped her fingers, and it was done.

Magic rippled through the hall, the world. Bound. She was bound now. Perhaps—perhaps it had given her time. If she passed the first two trials. If she could solve the riddle. And, he knew—if she hadn’t agreed, she would be up on the wall now.

Amarantha settled back on her throne, satisfied. “Give her a greeting worthy of my hall.”

He made himself watch, without flinching. What he had done, what it had all led to. Clare, and Andras, and Lucien dropping at his feet, and frightened sisters and their crippled father stock-still as Feyre faced him full in the eyes.

Get out. Get out and begone.

And he had roared and bellowed in his fury. At Andras. At himself.

And he was so quiet now. And he was so still. He was her sisters, her father, crouching on the ground in his feebleness. A heart that could not work as it should weighing him to his chair, sinking him into the earth.

And the truth was laid bare before him, before Amarantha, before everyone in the hall. Echoing beyond. The Attor struck her, and she reeled, thrown by its power, right into another one of Amarantha’s monsters, who got the other side. She twisted, and tried to evade them, but a third caught her. She could say what she would, be brave, but she was still human, and would break as a human. That was the lesson. That was Amarantha’s settledness, her confidence.

Feyre cried out in pain as she was passed between them, blood starting to pour from her nose. And with each blow, the layers that he had curled around himself—so painstakingly, he was so safe and secure within—fur and scale and tail, fell from him, one by one, cowering, afraid, prey. They leaped, and scattered, peeled from his flesh, until only one layer remained, that he struggled with everything he had to keep intact.

Finally, Feyre went silent, and limp, falling to the floor.

“Ugh. Disgusting. Remove her, and clean the floor. And start the music again, I never told them to stop. You all act as if you had never seen a human before.” Amarantha smiled, looking at Clare up on the wall.

“Oh, Tamlin,” she said indulgently, not moving her gaze, her voice dripping with pleasure and satisfaction as he watched Feyre’s body being dragged from the hall, her face bloody and bruised. “And here I was worried it would be boring. That I would have to get a little…” She swayed from side to side. “…creative to get you talking. I have waited for so long, and yet now that I have you—“

He tensed. She did not have him yet, and she knew it.

“I had become impatient. When Clare didn’t work.” She laughed as the music swelled. “Oh, but I know why now. You love that one.” She glanced at him, then turned back to Clare. “Don’t try to deny it again. You sent her away. You didn’t just condemn this poor thing, you tried to save that—oh, what’s her name?” Not waiting for an answer from him that she knew would not come. “Never mind. I’ll ask her when she wakes up. I’ll have to have a word with Rhysand, too. Hmm…” She tapped her fingers on her chair. He felt Jurian look at him. Out of hatred, or pity, or both, he could not tell. Suddenly she gripped the chair. In it, he saw with the eye her blindness. Her hatred. That had cost her the war. That had made her bind herself to a human, of her own free will, for centuries. That she bound her fate to now. Her sugary words. Her darlings, and sweets. They hid, but barely, a great malice. And jealousy.

“She looked quite hideous leaving, didn’t she? Not much different from when she arrived, though. You fell in love with that?”

Trying to figure it out. To understand. Life flickered in him, even as he burned with fury. Humans had always been her downfall. Would be now. He knew this, listening to her. She was angry. She was trying to get to him, but he—Feyre—had gotten to her. That in itself was dangerous, though. He knew better now than to antagonize her further. But they had already won. Amarantha had kept Jurian for five hundred years. Now she was keeping Feyre alive.

“You think I spared her? You think she got a reprieve tonight?”

She looked at him again. “You saw how easily she broke. You think what I have in store for her will be easier than what you let Clare endure? You think that’s the last time she’ll scream?”

He said nothing, and looked at Clare. Suddenly he felt Amarantha’s hand on him, grabbing him by his chin and roughly pulling him to her, forcing him to look into her black eyes.

“You sit here, so proud in your defiance. It’s been but a few days. You know what I can do. Just listen for the beating of your heart. I’ll find such delicious ways to torture her. Maybe I’ll ask Rhysand—he’s so good at that sort of thing. How he could make her scream and beg. I don’t even have to ask with him. He’ll gladly do it. And you’ll beg for her to get Clare’s treatment. You’ll wish you had given me her when you had the chance.” She pulled him closer, until they were almost touching, her nails digging in. “That pathetic worm will fail, and suffer, just as all those who get close to you. And after she does, then you’ll be a good pet, and I’ll get this silly little mask off, and taste the flesh waiting for me underneath. By the time this is all over—sweet Tamlin—I’ll have you on your knees.”

She let him go, throwing him back in his seat, and settled back in again, a mask of smug self-satisfaction on her face.

He reeled, and looked at the floor, a wave of nausea at the thought of Rhysand touching her, at the knowledge of what Amarantha would do if Feyre did not answer her riddle correctly. What she would do before then. He thought of Feyre, away from him, and what she would wake up to, and the hurt already done to her, the suffering already, because of him. His mind spun in desperation of her promised torment, panic rising in him that he fought to still.

He thought of the words Amarantha had used to describe Feyre—worm, dog. Beast. Used as insults. The same that had been used against him. All the accumulated shapes, everything he had ever been and shifted into—all had left him, and now only the Beast was left, under a skin that was not sallow, not rotting underneath, but thinning, thinning. Soon, there’d be nothing left, only this tension so great it would break through the stone surrounding him.

And then she’d see his lovely claws.

#tamlin #acotar #feylin

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