#mer!azriel
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The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 5
Mer!Azriel x reader
a/n: took a minute, thanks to the ungodly amount of italicising I had to do, but enjoy mer!az 🧡💛
Word count: 5,969
-Part 4-
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Seaweed flutters gently against your skin, feather-light as it pulls you back to consciousness.
Small, shimmering creatures dart about in between the barnacle-covered rocks and pleasantly-coloured coral, sparkling light reflecting off their tiny scales with easy, hastened movement. Out from a crevice unfurls a purple tentacle, spotted with blue and red dots that glow faintly as it emerges from its cozy home, and you watch as it politely ambles along the cave floor.
The drift of a current eases your hair out from under you, and you push up from the sandy patch you’d chosen for sleeping, set in the top of a particularly large rock, hollowed out to create a dip you can comfortably settle in. Seaweed brushes your upper arms as you peer about the luminescent cave, cast in mellow blue-green light as unknown flora sprouts from the cavern’s walls, lighting it up. Up on the other side of the cave, you spot his long, powerful tail lolling over the ledge, the rest seemingly tucked away into an alcove that he’s chosen to be his sleeping quarters.
With some effort, you manage to leverage yourself into open water, pulling yourself along until you reach the wall, where you attempt to shift your tail to propel forward. It’s a little tricky, but not an unpleasant journey—getting to haul yourself clumsily up the sides, passing other nooks in the stone that house all sorts of fauna.
You reach his ledge, folding your arms over the smooth rock, tail swishing idly beneath you.
Dark, charcoal eyes flit over, and he pauses, before lethargically rolling onto his front, copying your position in folding his arms, cheek propped upon his forearm as he gazes at you intently.
You’re awake, he thinks, and your stomach flutters with surprise, still not entirely accustomed to the way his voice resonates so deeply within your mind. Do you usually sleep up here, or was this a ploy to have me swim some more? You ask quietly, watching as amusement glows in his eyes. Swimming more certainly won’t hurt you, he replies, tail shifting slightly. But no. This is where I like to sleep.
The stone is so smooth, you wonder, glancing down to where the rock looks to have been lathed flat. Centuries of being worn down, he replies, shifting again, and you can see this time how well the slight hollows and curves fit to the shape of his body. Almost making the rock appear soft.
I forget you’re old, you think, a hint of amusement in your tone, the edges of your mouth curving, gaze twinkling. He rolls his eyes, before his features settle into something more serious, watching you quietly. You peer back at him, wondering what’s passing through his mind.
You mentioned a connection to the moon… You hedge slowly, tail swishing a little. That a new moon is when you’re closer to humans, and a full moon is when you…get stronger?
He doesn’t reply, just continues regarding you neutrally, unable to tell what he’s thinking. Your brows twitch. Is that not right? You push, peering at him. I remember you saying we were nearing a new moon. What does that mean?
Azriel’s quiet for a bit, before readjusting himself, pulling his long tail up into the alcove. You understand we are creatures of magic, don’t you? He asks, and you nod in clarification. Quite simply, upon a new moon is when we can become more humanlike. Becoming more distanced from how we are now.
How so? You push, something about the way he’s speaking sounding…slower than usual. Slightly reluctant. Wary.
Again he pauses, and you wait, tension coiling in your arms with apprehension. But then he pushes up from the rock, easily swimming past with effortless grace, so close you feel the sea move with his motion. We can rise from the water, he answers, swimming down toward the seafloor, glancing over his shoulder as he pauses, waiting for you to follow. We can walk among humans.
What do you mean? You ask sharply, scrambling away from the rock as you try to swim downward, using your hands to almost pull the water apart. I can become human again? You push, a spark of something in your chest. You don’t have to remain a mer forever. You aren’t shackled to eternity below the sea.
His brow narrows slightly, and then he’s cutting through the water, smoothly swimming upward. You blink when he moves around you, too unfamiliar with their motion to keep up as he settles in the water above you, hands gently but firmly pulling your arms back, keeping them from pulling you forward. You aren’t going to learn if you keep relying on your hands like that, he reminds, and you reluctantly ease beneath his touch, a look of disgruntlement on your mouth. Just try using your tail more, or you’ll ingrain bad habits into your body during your developing.
There’s more? You ask, aghast, trying to turn to look at him over your shoulder. Aren’t I fully mer already?
You are. But your muscles are still growing, and becoming familiar with your new form. Not to mention your mind will also need time to catch up. He answers succinctly, with surprising coherency. Just try swimming to the floor, he suggests, easing his grip on your forearms, putting a little distance between your bodies, though you can still feel his hands poised to guide your palms away from motion.
But, tell me more about it, you push, trying to figure how to turn yourself over, to see him better. You’re able to catch the way his chest expands in what you think is probably a sigh. Frustration simmers in your chest, brows narrowing as you swiftly pull your arms away, using them to turn, much to his obvious disapproval. I still have people—…I still have someone up there, you think, gazing into his glittering, coal black eyes. Azriel blinks, features flattening to careful neutrality. Who?
I don’t— …I’m not telling you. You answer, head dipped but managing to hold his intense gaze. Tension simmers in your chest, so close to this new information.
You barely know how to swim from one place to another. You aren’t undergoing a shift.
So you’re just going to keep me here? You think sharply, brows narrowing. No, he replies, voice a little softer, you’re free to go where you like. But I’ll keep an eye on you.
I want to go back to being human, you snap, anger forming as your hands tighten into fists. I didn’t even get a choice in becoming like you in the first place, and now I don’t get a choice in returning?
A new moon will come again. We have one each month. Missing this one won’t mean you’ll never have the chance again.
I’m not wasting my time, Azriel, you think, a hint of panic rising to your tone. You may be accustomed to immortality—having enough time for everything—but we…humans don’t live forever! I have no guarantee that he…that my person will be there at the next new moon.
Azriel pauses, something passing behind his eyes.
Tell me who it is, he says, slightly tighter than usual. Maybe you’re waring at his temper.
Someone important, you yield, lips pressing together, someone dear to me.
Who?
Why does it matter? You grit out. He might not be alive by next month. Isn’t that a good enough reason to let me go? Or is the life of a human simply not worth it to you?
You’re putting words in my mouth, he thinks back, tail swishing as he calmly floats down toward the floor, and you’re forced to follow after him. Besides, becoming human and returning to that village… Someone will recognise you.
The transformation would happen overnight, wouldn’t it? Surely I could get back by morning? You push, slowly managing to shift to where he’s come to a halt, coincidentally by the rock you chose to sleep in.
You’re not going. He thinks quietly, though his attention is on the hollow of the stone, able to mark the indentation of the sand—how it dips down and curls in line with how you’d slept.
You stare at him silently, something a little too similar to hurt twinging across your chest. You’d apparently been hoping he was different. But it’s the same story.
Maybe it’ll take the same solutions.
Carefully steering a conversation, gently turning it to the right direction, without a soul knowing.
So you swim forward a little, coming to the lip of the hollow that he’s hovering above. Moving to be at his side, keeping your attention ahead. Would you not be able to change him into a mer, too? You think, careful to keep on topic without a sharp turn. Smoothly bending the flow.
Azriel shakes his head. There are…requirements, that need to be met in order for a transition to occur. We can’t just take humans here and there.
And you need humans because…?
We’re a dwindling species, he thinks quietly. Almost sadly. When an opportunity presents itself, we take it.
I was an opportunity?
Dark, glittering eyes flit to yours, taking in the tension of your jaw, the resentment tucked between your brows. I didn’t mean it like that, he tries, a glimmer of guilt working its way to his surface. It’s fine, you think back with obvious bitterness, we’re treated as objects above water, too. You move to pull yourself away, hands pressing down on barnacle-covered rock, when his palm settles around your wrist. Firm enough to be noticeable, but light enough for you to pull away.
You’re precious, he thinks quietly, features mostly neutral save for the softness at the edge of his irises. Because of what I stand for, right? Not because of who I am? You return, though you don’t pull away—allowing him to feel that control. It’s always about control.
His lips press into a thin line, and you nod slightly. That’s fine, you think quietly, holding his gaze, I’ll try not to let it go to my head.
I’m treating you as I would another mer who had never undergone a shift, he returns, his grip loosening further as you drift a little closer, enough to appear subconscious or accidental. It’s all about having power over people. Let him think he can draw you in.
As I said before, you can hardly swim in a straight line, and you will be recognised if you’re spotted above sea. You can imagine what might happen, he reasons gently.
And it would be a waste if I died, too, you return, resentment becoming more apparent. After all the work you put in to finding someone suitable. Wouldn’t that be a shame.
It’s for your safety. Don’t pretend like you can’t understand that.
No, I don’t understand it, you hiss, moving forward, brows narrowing, because above there is the only person left in this world that I care about, and you are coming between us. All because your fucked up species is too selfish to care for anything else. You drift closer, pulling your hand away to grip his wrist instead, tightly. And just maybe, if your kind weren’t snatching, stealing, and murdering sailors, there’d be more of you left.
His pupils contract, tension shifting beneath his pale blue skin, before he’s firmly withdrawing his wrist, putting a clear distance between you.
I understand you’re upset, he begins.
No, you don’t, you hiss, moving after him, you say you do, but—
I understand you’re distraught, and confused, he states again, sterner than before, though this time he doesn’t retreat at your approach. But that does not mean you can speak so disgracefully. To me, or about our kind. Something inside you flinches at the tone, tension coiling as you wait for the impact, bracing for pain.
You have only seen the end result of their process. You do not understand the pain they will subject us to, nor the degradation of being strung up along the shore for the rest of us to watch as our folk slowly bleed out, so close to their home.
You could swear you hear his voice lilt with emotion before it’s swiftly shut down, as if blocking out the building pressure of what having to witness that slow death does to a creature.
You are not undergoing a shift, he repeats firmly; finally. Not this time around.
He makes to turn, likely to leave, to give time for both of you to cool off, but your hand darts forward, gripping him until your nails are squeezing his skin, and he whirls back to you.
You’re just like him, you think lowly, close enough that—had you been human—you would be sharing breath. Close enough to count his eyelashes, to see the flecks of glittering black and storm cloud grey in his eyes. To number every tiny, shredding tooth that’s concealed by a deceptively soft-looking mouth.
At least Alaric wasn’t aware of how awful he was, you hiss lowly, moving closer still, free palm settling over his other hand, like you’re able to hold him to the ground. But you think you’re so much better. You condemn him, and pretend like you’re anything better and it’s despicable. I’ve just been taken from one cage to another, except in this one, the only beast I have to fear is you.
His eyes shutter, then he’s forcefully ripping his hands away from your hold, and there isn’t a single muscle in your body that amplifies the shockwave of fear that strikes through your body. As you recoil into yourself, eyes squeezing shut as you duck your head, bracing for the staging slap of his palm or the piercing bite of teeth.
Instead, all you feel is the slightly cooler swish of water against your front, the gentle brush of a shift in current.
You open your eyes in time to see his tail disappearing into one of the tunnels.
A shimmer of iridescent blue, and pearly white, vanished in a blink.
———
You find yourself slowly trailing after an octopus, pulling yourself along the sea bed at a similar speed to its friendly amble, tentacles stretching ahead as it swims idly through the coral.
Maybe it’s because you have no one else, but you feel a connection with the creature. One that arises from being granted the wonder to freely follow something through its life, to observe as it goes about satisfying its more common interests: how it peers beneath a rock (maybe looking to move house?), bringing a fragment from the floor (as if to appreciate it!), shifting its movements so it looks as though it’s skipping between the stones after having eaten something.
It’s been still for a while now, though, as if resting, and you’ve found a comfortable section of flattened rock to settle on, shimmering fishes occasionally swimming closer, as if to admire your own scales.
As much as you’d like to return to being human, you can appreciate the difference. Animals and other sea creatures almost seem to like you, no longer flitting away as soon as the water’s disturbed, but rather swishing to float along the currents. They seem to recognise you as one of them, rather than something that will hunt them. Playing nearer, until you’re worried some might get tangled in your hair. But they seem to have fun, darting between and through the floating strands.
You’ve no idea how long he’s gone for, and frankly, you’ve been trying not to think about it. When you think about it, you find a temper beginning to bubble, simmering in your cold blood. You don’t know enough about him to guess at why he refused so adamantly. Can’t understand the deep-rooted desire to keep his species alive, when humanity seems to be existing in every corner, like an infestation of some kind.
Still, it hurts a little to remind yourself his only interest was in changing you to become like him. It’s hard to admit, but you’d felt appreciated. Comforted. But you suppose, by nature, nothing will be that simple. You’ll never be able to truly become something animate in their minds. They seem to have more compassion for fish that for women.
At least a fish’s effort to escape is acknowledged. A woman’s is just beaten out of her until she’s fixed.
Are you enjoying following him?
You startle from your rock, peering about to try and locate him. It’s one drawback to being able to speak mind-to-mind: you have no way of telling direction.
He’s swimming down from another tunnel opening—separate from the one he disappeared into—coming to a pause a more than healthy distance away from you. Really more than heathy.
There’s not much else to do down here, save for looking at things, you reply, not quite able to bring yourself to remove your attention from him. Too wary to do so after your last conversation.
He’ll sleep for another hour or so, Azriel thinks to you, nodding back to the quiet octopus who’s tucked himself up. You might want to find something else to look at.
I think I already have, you reply warily, keeping your gaze on him as you shift atop the smooth rock, not taking your eyes away from where he’s floating.
Why are you here? You ask, tail stretching out to hang off the ledge. Am I not allowed to be here? He replies, glancing throughout the cave. You don’t feel his attention leave you, though.
You left rather abruptly. I’m assuming you had a reason to come back. You counter, regarding him neutrally. Cautiously.
He waits for a few moments, before tentatively swimming forward, delicate swishes of his tail having him drift through the sea, and you shift yourself up and away a bit when he makes to settle on your rock.
Do you still want to go above? He asks quietly. Eyes on you.
Your brows furrow, narrowing as you pin him with a resentful look. I suppose you weren’t listening, earlier? You remark, subtly moving closer to the edge of the rock.
I suppose you have no manners, either? He replies, though it’s without any bite. I have nothing to say to you.
Do you still want to go above?
You remain pointedly quiet. He’s already said he won’t allow you to go, so there’s no point in answering. It’ll likely only boost his ego, knowing you want to leave, but that he’s keeping you here.
Do you still want to leave? He repeats, I won’t know unless you tell me.
Your brow narrows, hands curling as nails press into your palms, trying to find something else to observe. To direct your attention to.
Something brushes against your tail, firm but smooth as it drags lightly over the scales. Deliberately, and you swiftly glance over your shoulder, to see what it is.
The large fins at the base of his tail are gliding over your own, stroking up the spine of the long limb, brushing against it in gentle motions. Your throat rolls, but you don’t make the effort to move away. Instead you meet his gaze, remembering how his eyes had gleamed with an array of hidden colours, suitable for under sea.
I do, you reply tersely. Quietly.
He nods, holding your gaze. Then we’ll go.
We? You ask, slightly skeptical.
We. He repeats, his tail coming to a rest from its soothing motions, settling over your own.
Your lips press together, briefly glancing away, thinking, before you turn back to him, nodding. Okay.
————
So…how does it actually work? You think, awkwardly holding him as you attempt to move in time with his instructions.
We don’t know exactly why these points exist, or what caused them to, but there are certain places that seem to exist with more magic than others, he explains quietly, holding you steady. Some folk think it’s best not to wonder, while others theorise it’s to do with ley lines overlapping, creating an energy strong enough to fuel a transformation.
Azriel had told you he would take you to one of their moon pools, supposedly the only pool near Blackwater you’d be able to reach in time—and also the only pool that would allow you to return to something resembling human. With no other method of transportation, and Azriel deeming your strange half-crawl, half-swim method of movement to be too slow, you’d ended up in this position: your palms settled at the tops of his forearms, while he holds your elbows, theoretically helping to keep you streamlined while making sure you won’t resort to using your arms for swimming. He’s able to hasten your speed, while also helping you become more familiar with the muscles and tendons in your tail.
Though the pace is still slow, both by human and mer standards.
Ley lines? You ask, peering up at him, but his eyes flick down to where you’ve stopped moving, and you restart into motion. It would be easier to show you, but essentially lines drawn to connect significant structures from our history. Throughout the centuries—even millennia—different civilisations have risen and faded, each leaving their marks on the sea bed. There are still mysteries surrounding their collapse, but from some fragments that remain, questions have cropped up relating to certain consistencies. Architecture that should be impossible, long-lost tunnel systems that seem designed to confuse and trap, cave engravings that line up suspiciously with our own history—history that would have been their future.
Moon pools seem to exist where these lines overlap, which some consider to be signs. Others think the world is founded in patterns, and detail—were it not, none of us would exist. We are all fleetingly complex systems of chance and evolution.
That sounds…fascinating, you concede, watching him with interest. To think the mer had the awareness to document their existence, as if understanding it’s not a guarantee they will live on… Acknowledging their gradual disintegration, while remaining free of its fear. It’s admirable.
Moon pools bring out an ancient magic from the surrounding earth, though they can be dangerous. As creatures of the sea, the moon is at the centre of our world, the foundation of many prayers and fables passed down through mind. A new moon is the absence of that stability, hence it turns us into something not. Bringing us up from the waters and onto land, splitting our tails into legs. That sort of change can damage our anatomy, and has in the past, when used incorrectly.
You know how to use it right, right? You ask, peering up at him as you try to remember your motion, attempting to keep up with him as he holds you steady. He nods in answer, nothing bad will happen to you.
So what happens after I…after we go back…I mean, when we change into humans?
Clothes are left for use by the pool, so you have no need for worry. But once we’re above ground, the task will be returning to your village. You will have to guide the way to your… He trails off, watching you silently, waiting for an answer.
You miss the signal, and nod. Okay, you think, gills fluttering with a deeper breath, I can do that. Will you wait on the outskirts?
His hold temporarily tightens on you, the roughened pads of his fingers pressing against your skin before loosening again. I will be coming with you.
But you’re so noticeable, you think back. You’ll draw attention. It’ll be better and quicker if I go by myself.
I will either be there with you, or we will not go at all. It would be irresponsible to let you return on your own, he reasons firmly.
I can manage myself, you return, I understand your point, but I know my village. Having you there might scare someone away.
I can keep to the shadows, he replies.
You peer at him doubtfully. He seems quite big compared to you…Will that be reflected in a human form? You have no idea what the scale would be like.
Okay. But I want privacy, when we get there, you push, following his motions as he guides you through another tunnel, the pale blue lights beginning to fade, replaced by an iridescent shimmer along the walls, like powdered stars. I don’t want to have you looming in a corner the entire time. Please allow me to speak with him alone.
Azriel is about to reply, to think that he won’t be leaving you for a single moment while in such dangerous territory, but you continue, pupils shuttering a little.
…Especially if I might have to be saying goodbye.
His jaw tightens at the obvious sadness in your thoughts. The deep-soaked pain, and loss. He doesn’t want to be listening to this.
You can go into a separate room, he relents, but you will have to be able to leave quickly if something happens. In other words, he doesn’t want you to use this last chance to physically take this man into your body. His teeth grind at the thought alone. Don’t do anything stupid.
I won’t, you reply, unaware of those un-communicated thoughts, just trying to figure out what you’ll tell him. How to ever explain your situation. You hope he won’t be scared.
Your eyes seem to wander of their own accord, moving from the iridescent walls, powdered with shimmer light, to plants perking from the rock, their ends glowing faintly as if to guide the way. The thought starts with a question, curious if he curated these tunnels too, perfectly placing these lovely fascinations at well-timed intervals to keep the caves light and in-oppressive, to transforming itself into a visual wonder of, perhaps, slightly morbid appreciation.
The tales you’d been raised on still have a place in your mind—they’d been true about the shredding teeth, their affinity for dexterity and agility beneath the deceptively calm surface of water. And yet they’d spoken nothing about the unearthly beauty.
Perhaps it’s just him though.
After all, he’s the only one you’ve encountered. Are there many others? He’d mentioned they were a dwindling species, but…
Something on your mind? He thinks, eyes glittering, and you realise you’ve been staring. How long had you been zoned out for?
Why have you been looking after me? You ask, holding his steady gaze, taking in the softness to the edge of his mouth. How his ears flutter slightly as something brushes by, but his attention remains on you.
As opposed to…? He returns, shifting your course once again, directing you toward a tunnel that has a slight upward tilt to it. There are more of you aren’t there? You push cautiously. You said that cave was fashioned after a Rainbow, so there must be more of you somewhere. And earlier you spoke like groups of mer existed to examine past events, and remnants of their buildings. Why not bring me to wherever the rest of your kind are?
Azriel is quiet for a pause, and you wait curiously, watching him steadily. It almost feels like hesitance.
You need time to become accustomed to your surroundings, he replies at last. Your mind needs to adjust to this new life, so it would be unwise to bring you to the centre of our civilisation, where you would likely be overwhelmed.
Your brows narrow as you watch him. It feels like the truth but…not all of it. Like he’s leaving something out. But maybe that’s just you reading into the infection of his thoughts too much. You don’t even know if they have a different method of intonation beneath the sea, or if thought suffices for intention.
No other reason? You push, regarding him cautiously.
He raises a brow, what other reason would I have?
Well that’s why I’m asking, you think, because I don’t know.
A noise enters your mind that sounds similar to a hum, and your spine prickles, making you shudder, ears fluttering. His pupils mark the reaction with a strange intensity, before increasing the pace a little, tail brushing lightly against your own, as if encouraging you to put in more effort. I suppose I might have wanted to see what sort of person you were, he thinks, and you wonder if you’ve subconsciously drifted closer to him.
What’s that supposed to mean? You ask skeptically, peering at him. Is there something I could have done to make you leave me?
Perhaps.
Like what?
Now why would you need to know that? He asks, amusement clear, eyes twinkling as his mouth curves at the edges, thumbs lightly grazing the bone of your elbow as his tail again flicks against you own.
Your expression shifts into one of displeasure, brows pulling together in distaste. Please just answer.
He seems to be thinking in his own mind for a bit, and you watch carefully, wondering if you’ll catch any hints to what’s passing through his head.
Perhaps if you hated us so viscerally… he answers slowly, quietly. That would have complicated things…would have muddied the choices, a little.
Choices?
With what to do with you. How to progress.
You couldn’t have just turned me back into a human using the moon pool?
We only look like humans, he thinks quietly, watching you. You can never return to one.
You blink, lips parting a little before remembering to keep them closed, keeping your mouth filled with air to prevent water rushing in. You said… but you trail off, letting it dawn on you all over again. Then why are there clothes ready? You ask. What happens if you don’t return to the moon pool in time?
The you’re simply stranded until the next new moon. The clothes are there for when folk might wish to be above ground for…longer.
But not as something entirely human.
That’s right, he replies softly, thumbs brushing your skin.
A quiet settles between you, but you try not to let it lower your spirits. You’ll be on two legs again regardless, and you’ll get to say goodbye to him. Though you hate that he’ll be the one to see you go first.
It should never have to be that way.
So what were the choices you mentioned? You ask a touch quietly, easing in a calming breath.
Those don’t matter anymore, he thinks gently, you’re adjusting well.
I want to know. You push, wanting something to focus on. There’s still so much you don’t know about his kind. About mer folk.
Azriel goes silent, his eyes taking on that strange intensity again that at one point had made your insides squirm with discomfort. Now you just hold it, levelling him with your own gaze. Eventually though, he blinks, glancing elsewhere, chest deflating in what you can guess is a sigh.
A strange tension seems to shift beneath his features, carving his expression into one of seriousness.
When you made the choice to cut me free… he begins slowly. Softly.
Do you remember what you had been thinking, when you did it?
Your throat rolls, casting your mind back to that day. Those hours where everything changed. Those few minutes, where a choice had been made. One that had arguably altered the course of your life.
I was thinking what they’d do to you, if your were found, you manage quietly. About how I’d thought it was an unnecessary act of violence, one routed in hatred and revenge, and that a conflict that continuously took lives would never be resolved.
Something flits past behind his gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for you to even catch its trail.
I thought it would be hypercritical of me to leave you. That not helping would be as good as condemning you myself. You manage, grip loosening as you’re called back to the thundering shudder of wooden boards, groaning and creaking as Alaric had approached.
I thought it would be better to save you.
Despite all the stories you’d been fed, Azriel thinks quietly, pace slowing a little, drifting unnoticeably closer. You decided to save a monster.
I don’t think you’re a monster.
But that’s what I was in that moment. Wasn’t I? You didn’t know any different.
You didn’t feel like a monster, you return.
The lowest part of your tail makes a small movement, brushing against him.
Exteriors can be deceiving, he warns softly.
Sometimes they can, you reply, quieter. Not always. But what does that have to do with it all?
Your intention, he almost whispers, so close now. Close enough to again catch a glimpse of the spectrum contained within his irises, glowing with a smattering of stars from the powdery cave light. Close enough to fully see the soft sections of his features, hidden beneath the unforgiving exteriors that you’d almost been fooled by. Close enough to pick out the hint of emotion he’s unable to conceal, raw, and blinding, and—
You recoil in a blink, jerking away as your hands frantically cross over your chest, your breasts having grazed the bare skin of his torso.
You blink with shock, having become so accustomed to your own nakedness, but now overwhelmingly aware of how bare you are. Your skin hasn’t become any less sensitive from shifting to a mer—everything is just as responsive—and your heart pounds with a drive so intense you can feel it in your stomach.
The breath puffs from your gills heavily, caught off guard by the force of your own reaction, arms still covering your breasts as you shift backward. Something brushes just shy of the nape of your neck, a mere finger’s-width from the height of your spine, and something tingling and exhilarating bursts through your blood, flinching away from the wall, hand now slapping over the spot.
Gods above, you think, heart still pounding wildly in your chest, using your hands and tail to shift to see what it was that had brushed so tantalisingly against your skin.
A small plant stares back at you, and you sigh again, returning your attention to him.
Sorry about that, you think, I was startled. You force your arms to remain at your sides as you make to shift closer, hands gliding up to settle at the tops of his powerful forearms.
It’s fine, he replies, though his movements seem a little stiff, his tail less flexible than before. You might find your spine and sternum to be more acute to touch, than before.
My sternum? You ask, peering up at him. Where’s that?
Muscle flexes beneath your fingertips, before calming, and he gestures to the bone down his chest, joining his ribs. Careful not to touch.
You blink, before nodding, looking down at yourself, raising your hand to your chest.
Azriel visibly stiffens, but remains silent as your fingers brush against the bone—between your breasts. Sure enough, that tingling feeling returns, pulse spiking, tiny muscles fluttering beneath your touch, and you hum, the edges of your mouth curving faintly.
I didn’t know you had such obvious weak spots, you think, at last returning your palms to his forearms. Good to know.
He doesn’t reply. Just holds you lightly as he begins moving again, tail shifting with less fluidity than before.
Your brows furrow, wondering at his silence. Did you say something wrong?
Anyway… you think, attention flitting about before settling on him. What were you going to say?
But he shakes his head, eyes flicking to a light at the end of the tunnel. Moonlight spilling into the water.
We’re here.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy
tdot taglist: @mika-no-sekai-blog @blueeclipsepaperstudent @lalalucha @v3lv3tf0x @acourtofbatboydreams @coureurs-de-bois9 @sidthedollface2 @lees-chaotic-brain @vickykazuya
az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya
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Pspsps @glass-trash-bab you wanted to know more of the mermaid family. Well, one lil thing is that Samael is a siren and they (mother, father, and two siblings) are mermaids. They will never get as big as Samael nor are they even half as dangerous (due to size). None of them have "proper" names but rather names based around Samael's that it starts to call them instead of Mother, Father, Brother, and Sister. Their official names are variations of clicks, whistles, and other vocalizations. Continuing the angel theme their names are as follows: Uriel, Azriel, Zuriel, Sariel. Because hehe love theming
#oc: mer uriel#oc: mer sariel#sin speaks#irisona#iris monster au#iris oc#iris#iris project#oc: siren samael#oc: mer zuriel#oc: mer azriel
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Not like I have a million things in my drafts but how do we feel about Azriel x mer shifter!reader 👀 I’ve had the idea forever and just never written it down but trust me there’s a lot of cool stuff in my noggin
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HOFAS thoughts as I read it: (SPOILERS below)
All that t*rture in the dungeons, Ruhn’s piercing and tattoos. Baxian’s tattoo. The wings. “How strong is your bite?” Sarahhhhh!!!!! Stop! That was more than I could handle😫
The Middengard Wyrm😖. Nesta dealt with it brilliantly but it just makes you appreciate how impossible it was that human Feyre managed to kill this thing by herself with no decent weapons.
Azriel hugging Nesta and stroking her hair after she took the Mask off🥺
Bryce’s wallpaper being Hunt and the photo of her friends in the phone case—that made me tear up
Imagining the inner circle all surrounding Bryce’s phone trying to figure out how it works is hilarious. Also Nesta being jealous of Bryce’s music collection, “THOUSAND?”
The nightbright angst KILLED me💔💔💔
Hunt just dreaming of Bryce. She’s the only thing pulling him through, “He’d wanted so many things with her. A normal, happy life. Children.” HE BETTER GET EVERY SINGLE ONE IF THOSE THINGS OR HANDS WILL BE THROWN!
Silene. The Daglan. My theories were true😁😁
Sigrid. I had so much hope for her story but I was disappointed. Hopefully it’ll get better
Ariadne!! I wanted to see more of her😕
Ruhn’s bedroom. The burn cream😭😭😭
Lidia FUCKING Cervos. That breakout scene. Magnificent.
Jesiba and Ithan’s dynamic. Librarian Ithan and the fact that Jesiba is a Parthos priestess!!! Also JellyJubilee being the computer password😂
Bryce using the mating bond to teleport to Hunt😭😭😭
Bran and Ace. Lidia giving them her ruby ring for tuition as a goodbye💔
Hunt and Bryce got married?!!! WHEN?
Cloudberry crown sounds funny idk why
If I had a penny every time SJM included a set of unhinged/partly unhinged fae twins (yes connall I’m looking at you) in her series, I’d have three pennies bc it happens every single time
So the astronomer is basically a Voldemort 2.0
Flynn and dec going crazy for waffles on the mer ship
“I never had anyone fight for me” Oh Lidia my love😭😭
Guess I’m shipping Tharion and Sathia now🤷♀️
Lidia being turned on by Ruhn lighting a fire—girl, I get it.
“Because I’m yours, Day. I’m fucking yours.” Screaming crying throwing up
Lidia: “I want you all the time”😭😭😭😭😭😭😩😩😩😩💗💗💗
Idk why but I am disappointed in the Autumn King, I thought there would be some redemption for him for some reason
Ruhn: “I am going to live and I am going to live well without you”😭😭
Bryce was always a queen but now she a queen Queen👀
Avallen becoming all green again.
Hunt being a demonic test tube baby😂😂
Dec being the first to look for service. Typical😂
Ithan x Perry???? Cinnamon and strawberry? I start getting suspicious when they notice all the nuances of that person’s scent. I think they’d be cute though
Nooooo, the prime—I keep thinking of him as master oogway from king fu panda and it makes me sad
Sabines finally dead🥳🥳
Ithan is prime now? Okay okay pop offf!!
Hunt finally breaking free of his halo and freeing Isaiah as well❤️
Is the under king from the ToG universe??? Valg??
Connor💔💔💔😭😭😭 The bullet. Memento mori
Sathia and Colin McCarthy. This will be interesting
Commando Hunt. The underwear was too small🤭🫨🫨
Morven guest room having red lace thongs😂😂
Okay tharion and sathia are really growing on me🥰🥰🥰
‘She’s my mate you fucker’ SCREAAMMING
Ace finally calling Lidia Mom😭❤️
Lidia is the descendant of Brannon. The fire, the hind/sacred stag. OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!
Pollux being incinerated☺️☺️☺️
The sprites and Irithys💗
The kill switch, the godslayer rifle. Bryce just blackholing the Asteri. She is so brilliant and cunning and clever and I love her.
Danika and the pack. Light it up Bryce. I SOBBED
Jesiba crying and then her sacrifice😭😭😭💔💔
Ember and Randal going to Prythian. Randal bonding with Rhys but more importantly Ember and Nesta—I want to cryyyy🥹🥹🥹
Starsword/Gwydion back in Prythian…whats going to happen in ACOTAR 5???
The princes of Hel—you gotta love em
Lidia and Ruhn finally having that beer
Flynn x Perry? Jealous Ithan😏
Syrinx running for his life when Hunt and Bryce share a heated look. It’s nothing new but it cracks me up all the time
Pegasuses in Avallen🥰🥰
#crescent city#crescent city spoilers#hofas#hofas spoilers#cc hofas#house of flame and shadow#house of earth and blood#house of sky and breath#cc hoeab#hoeab#cc hosab#hosab#sarah j maas#sjmaas#sjm books#bryce quinlan#hunt athalar#ruhn danaan#lidia cervos#tristan flynn#declan emmet#ithan holstrom#danika fendyr#tharion ketos#nesta#nesta archeron#azriel#acotar
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An Examination of Cruelty and Other Such Failings
Nezriel Exes
Her dress was still crumpled where it had been thrown haphazardly the night before, the red silk a symbol of a passion that had burned in the wee hours of the morning with little regard for any sanctity her Mama upheld in Nesta once.
Before.
Before him. Before touches too hot, eyes too knowing, teeth too sharp; Before Nesta started to worship a different god, a crueller one, maybe. All gods were cruel but Azriel... he was a lesson in the what happened when one cared more about the sum than the parts; the breathing, human parts.
Her own breathing felt painful now, the beginning of a stress headache burning at her eyes and pulling tight on her skull. Az. No. Azriel. Not Az anymore, not to her, breathed deeply, steadily, like an innocent. Nesta snorted to herself, a liar even in his sleep.
How very him.
***
The light seeped in through gauzy, white curtains, Mor’s hand no doubt, and Nesta was stricken by how his face, beautiful in the age it was beginning to show, in crepey lines and hollowness, was softened by the dappled, yellow light. Maybe not all age she noted, on a closer look, comforted that her examination would remain a solitary pursuit by the metronomic movement of his chest. The purple shadows pressed into his eyelids, his naturally chiselled face looked just the wrong side of gaunt..
this was not quite the face she loved.
***
She was under no illusion that she had changed since they parted. An argument, a fracturing, a break-up. Words too small for a hurt so big. So explosive, and bitter, and brutal. Her frame softened and wider by the Gilmore Girls diet she’d been following, by the stress that’d been mounting. It was hard to mind herself the way he had.
Hard when three square meals had never been on a list short enough to receive attention, let alone fruit collected from markets in hemp net bags, prime rib-eye wrapped in grease paper, endless variations of nut butters organised on his ridiculous, Italian marble condiment station. Meals he plied her with, spoiled her with, until she allowed herself to grow comfortable with Az Azriel wanting to mind her in ways she could not, did not herself.
Stupid, stupid Nesta.
She should have known better. Comfort was yet another luxury she couldn't afford.
She never felt comfortable anymore.
***
He had not looked different in the dim hazy light of the bar. He had looked as well-maintained, manicured, and handsome as was expected when you had an extensive home gym, Peloton a given, and La Mer hand cream on tap. While his eyes burned from across the bar, the patrons gathered to celebrate Feyre and Cassian’s engagement utterly failed in their roles as buffers, he had looked as he always did.
Intense, consuming, heart-breakingly beautiful.
Even as some horrid part of herself noted with disdain that her thighs chafed against each other, rubbing in softness, in a way they hadn’t in the time before. That the women he’d surely slept with after she walked, probably blonde, probably charming, probably utterly lovely, would never dare to allow such a thing.
His hunger for her had thickened the air around her, had made her think of the unread texts sitting too heavy and tempting, weighing down her inbox, that had led to her blocking his number. Of the new Instagram account he had made. The man who was invisible to social media for so long, who had waxed lyrical to her time and time again of the black hole of energy it was made of. The man who huffed a laugh into her drying hair as she had pushed back,
‘Yeah, yeah, old man. Now let me scroll and fall into this hole in peace’.
The man who was now first to like any photo she was tagged in on Elaine’s, Eris's, even Rhysand’s account.
His request to follow her remained unanswered.
Even gods could change apparently.
Even gods could lose.
***
Her eyes caught the time on his digital clock, bringing her back to herself again. The red numbers flashed a warning,
Move...
Move.
Move!
Avoid confrontation.
Azriel had always risen before seven, one of the things bald men with podcasts attributed his success to. She couldn’t afford to stay any longer in reverie, to let him coax her back. Especially when no small part of her craved it.
She turned away from him and his pretty, peaceful face, to wriggle her way out from the tanned arm laying on her hip, gripping at her, even through the thick coverlet. While doing the overly familiar dance of collecting strewn underwear, wriggling her way into the tight red slip, she looked at him and her chest tightened just a bit more. Because there he lay, half of a once-great love, vulnerable and searching, seeking her across the expanse of the mattress.
This was why she couldn’t even steal his shirt, an infinitely more comfortable walk of shame look. She couldn’t because she knew he’d take any reason to talk to her, to knock on her door. She couldn’t hand him a legitimate invitation in the form of a crisp Brioni shirt.
She wasted no time brushing her teeth, with her toothbrush found in the sleek, mirrored cabinet. Her pink toothbrush still kept like some sad, weird shrine to their intimacy. She knew she'll dwell on that later.
She made her way to the door of his room, steps light and well-versed in their terrain, leather jacket thrown over her shoulders, purse, and thrifted, white, slingbacks in hand when the sound of his breathing changed.
Fuck.
***
She stilled on instinct, heart dancing, as he pushed himself upright in a way that was so fast it was almost comical if his dark eyes didn’t arrest on her, narrowing as he caught her red-handed in her escape.
Heart beating too fast, mind moving too slow she went to speak a few times before,
‘Sorry, didn't want to wake you. Keep our mistakes private, right?'
She was aiming for light but the awkward laugh at the end was undercut by how her voice cracked mid-sentence.
Was that hurt that flashed on his face before it was cold and shuttered once more?
He was out of the bed, brazen in his nakedness and upon her before she’d finished, his big hands, cupping her face, and a voice so rich, still gravelly from sleep, retorted,
‘Oh Nesta, not a fucking chance sweetheart. If you think you’re leaving this room after last night, after a mistake,’
the last two words sharpened and thrown back at her like arrows,
'you are being as delusional as I was five months ago. I was wrong. I was wrong to let you go. And believe me I've atoned for my sins, but I will not stand for you calling this a mistake. I won't watch you sneak away from a room we should share.'
Those brown eyes were deep pools of sincerity and regret. Gods repented in this strange, new world it seemed.
The next words were spoken so softly, almost to himself,
‘I can't. I can't. If you want to hurt me, at least let me hear your voice as you do so, let me look on your face as you break my heart once more. Stay with me and do as you will. I can tolerate anything but your absence.'
Shaking his head as if to refocus, he smiled, a pitiful, broken, best attempt at one, with eyes that roamed her face, gorging on all they had missed, before saying,
‘Come back Nes.'
'I thought I was a distraction.'
She sniped.
She remembered still.
He winced.
There, she thought, first blood in a new fight. Though God knew they'd spilled plenty here before.
***
The pulse of arousal that pierced her was sharp and strong and she hated that this was the most alive she’d felt in months. That she yearned for this fight, has been since she talked herself into approaching the bar last night, lying to herself that all she was doing was fulfilling a craving for bottom shelf vodka and coke.
She'd been to enough therapy since to know she was on shaky ground. She was envisioning the frenzied fighting and fucking to come, a sickening thrilling deja vu, when he kneeled.
Legs buckled like a broken puppet.
A script change.
Tears streamed from eyes filled with such anguish she felt her own swell in response as Azriel cried,
'Never a distraction. I was stupid, a liar and a fool. I kept telling myself that, telling you, because the truth terrified me. You were, are, and always will be everything to me.'
Tugging at his curly fringe, a nervous habit of his, he continued.
'I thought if I believed that, that you were a distraction, I'd find a way to survive even if you left me. Instead it drove you to walk and I found out none of it mattered. There were times in your presence I thought heaven might exist. Your absence, however, confirmed hell is real and it lives in the empty space you once filled beside me.'
Her skin felt like a live wire. Girls like Nesta Archeron didn't get love confessions from exes, they got bad credit and a therapy bill.
Or they had until now anyways.
'How do I know you've changed? All the time you made me feel full never compensated for what you took when you hid me from your friends, when you called me a...'
The word was too hard to say.
She resorted to examining the crown molding as Azriel waited a beat then answered carefully.
'You can't. I'm asking you to trust me knowing I have no right to. I love you Nesta. This is all too late. I know that. Believe me. I'm going to win you back. I swear it. You leave today and I'll find a way tomorrow or the next day. I had sworn to leave you be but looking at you now, I know you feel it too. I just hope someday you'll see it as a blessing too.'
***
When she leaves she feels his eyes following her to the taxi.
In the coming weeks he sends gifts - antique books, red dahlias, mix tapes of songs he thinks she'll like.
When she gets a text from a new number she does not block it.
When she visits next time, she brings her suitcase with her.
Because she understands.
The only craving she has ever had was for him.
As has been the case since she first started working for him, they were drawn together, they both knew this on some level.
That they were unbreakably bound to each other by gods so cruel.
Maybe crueller than him.
Maybe crueller than her.
Somehow.
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Hi guys! I started working on a new project called “A Court of Vast Waters”, I haven’t officially posted anything on AO3 yet (hopefully I’ll have a few chapters up by Monday🤞)
Anyways, the concept is if the characters in ACOTAR were pirates. I’m taking a lot of inspiration from stories such as Peter Pan, the Little Mermaid and Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s a multi-POV fic, with lots of themes and relationships to be explored.
With that being said, I wanted to share a snippet of my Gwynriel story I’ll be exploring in this fic. It’s an Ariel/Prince Eric retelling but with much larger things at play. If you’d like to read it, it’d be under the page break! 🧜🏻♀️🌊
Despite his unconsciousness, Azriel’s siphons blared brightly as he descended further into the deep water. Cobalt of the purest blue blasted through the dark trenches of the sea, like a beacon of light on night’s unrelenting waves. A truly magnificent sight bound to beckon any curious passersby to investigate fully.
~
Gwyn saw the wreckage first. She’d actually been on her way to another wrecked sight, a ship so old and long forgotten that now lay nestled between two large underwater rocks on the ocean floor. She passed near it days ago and saw an object reflecting light; somehow the sun had caught it, even as deep down as it was. She knew that whatever it was, it had to be absolutely remarkable. Gwyn couldn’t examine it further, out of fear of being late to her lessons with Merrill. The ancient, white-haired mermaiden would never let Gwyn out of her sight again if she was tardy. So, Gwyn begrudgingly placed the coordinates of the ship in the back of her mind for a later time, that mysterious shiny object etched into her brain like a sun-kissed freckle.
Now, debris of splintered wood floated near her in the water. It wasn’t uncommon to see pieces of a ship in the ocean—men and fae always underestimated the power of the vast waters—but it was a bit odd to see remnants of a wreck this far out into the sea. Usually, the waves would either swallow the ships whole or regurgitate pieces of it back on their shores, as if Tehome herself was reminding those who dared to venture out not to fuck with her territory.
However, the remnants of this ship were too far out to be an accident. The captain must have intentionally made the journey, which didn’t make sense to Gwyn as the land here had not been discovered by them yet. Had not been plagued and decimated by the land-walkers. Her and her sisters spent many of their days freely relaxing on the sandy shore of the beaches or the large rocks near the whirlpool, laying about sipping on coconut wine. For that land to be discovered, to be taken away from them, as so many others had been previously…
A shiver shot down Gwyn’s spine, and the end of her cyan tail twitched, the movement causing bubbles to float to the top, rippling the surface in their wake. She’d heard stories her whole life of their villages being pillaged by these land-walkers. It’s what caused them to push further and further into the ocean, in hopes of finding new places to live openly.
Of course, they had their underwater cities. Homes carved into the rock, caves became banquet halls and intricately placed shells decorated the exterior. A homely abode—well, as homely as it could be in the trenches of the sea. As much as the mer needed the water to survive, they also needed the sun. Whatever power the mer had, it was strengthened by the golden rays of the sun. And the light didn’t entirely reach their underwater villages, not fully, at least. That’s why these secret islands were so sacred to them. They could lay out boldly and soak in the sun without the looming threat of a land-walker.
A rogue plank floated up to Gwyn, and she eyed it. A small black scaly wing was carved into the wood, an emblem of sorts. She knew she should swim back and alert the elders, but her curiosity got the better of her. She didn’t see any survivors, and the wreckage was too far away from land for them to get anywhere if there were any. The merciless waves would not allow them to swim any great distance, especially not anyone with legs. Whoever was on this ship would not be alive now. Gwyn found herself thinking about that shiny object again and decided to hell with the wreckage. Tehome would take care of it.
Gwyn dived under the water, her auburn hair floating behind her like molten copper. Gwyn whipped her tail, causing hundreds of small colorful fish to scurry away, as if they knew not to get in her way when a treasure was on the line. Her pouch—made of woven kelp and seaweed—smacked against her hip as she swam, the strap of it pulled tightly across her chest to ensure her trinkets inside were safely in place.
Her mind was running wild at the treasures she might find in the crevices of that old ship when she saw it. A faint glowing blue light, shining up on her. Not down. She would have missed it, if her eyes were not trained to spot things of wonder. It wasn’t a sharp reflection or the golden rays, or even the silver light of the moon that Gwyn was used to. No, the blue of it was an illumination of something else entirely. Something new and different, a sight she’d never had the chance of beholding before.
Like a beckoning call, Gwyn swam to that cobalt blue luminescence.
#pro gwynriel#pro gwyneth berdara#gwynriel fanfiction#pro azriel acotar#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar ao3#ao3 writer#ao3 author#ao3#ao3 fic#gwynriel#gwynriel fic#acotar rewritten#acosf#little mermaid#sjm#sarah j maas#maasverse#a court of vast waters#amateur author#amateur writing
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When Shadows Ward Off Darkness (Part 4)
Chapter 4
Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
•○●⛦●○•
A/n: Heh, im soooo sorryyyy for the long wait my love @bibliophiliaxvignette
@acotargiftexchange
•○🌑○•
Gwyn fumbled with the sleeve of her loose dress, tugging on it constantly, waiting on the shore next to Catrin, who stared into the sea as if she could conquer it with simply a look. Gwyn would not be surprised if she did, if she was being honest.
To stop herself from making a fool of herself by fumbling around when the merfolk finally decide to show up to escort Gwyn and her sister to meet the queen- who was also their mother, apparently- Gwyn thought to a few hours ago, when she had snuck off to meet Azriel and told him about her situation.
He could not stop laughing. Like a child, he had clutched his belly and fallen to the ground, his body shaking with laughter as he tried to stay on his knees and not fall face first into the dirt of the forest ground. Gwyn had scowled at him, and when he'd finally decided the amount of laughing he'd done was acceptable, he had stood, apologizing profusely to an upset Gwyn.
•○●⛦●○•
He bent over, holding his stomach. Gwyn crossed her arms over her chest, huffing, ignoring the heat climbing up her neck in embarrassment.
When he finally straightened, he had fucking tears in his eyes, and he wiped them with the back of his palm.
"What is so funny?"
He shook his head, chuckling.
Gwyn rolled her eyes, grumbling under her breath as she made to turn away. His hand shot out before she could.
"Hey hey! I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to laugh."
Gwyn hummed lowly, looking away from him, anger and indignation simmering in her belly.
"So you will now swim around in the sea with sparkly and glittery scales?"
A smile tugged on her lips, and she shook her head slightly.
"I'm scared, Draven."
His smile softened, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Everything will be fine, Gwyn."
She sighed, rubbing her temples.
"I am about 50 percent sure merfolk don't have an apetite for mere humans."
"That is not what I am scared about." Gwyn suppressed the grin that threatened to break out on her face.
"Do what feels right, Gwyn. Listen to your heart."
•○🌑○•
Listen to your heart.
Currently her heart knew nothing but beating like was drums, and Gwyn dug in her feet into the sand to stop herself from bolting.
Gwyn's breath hitched when the water bubbled, and she leaned forward slightly to see what was happening.
From the blue waters rose two creatures, and Gwyn could find no words to describe their beauty.
They had gills right under their jaw, their veins visible against their pale skin which had a slight tint of blue. Their hair stuck their body, curling in the most perfect way possible, and Gwyn wondered if she would make a complete fool of herself in front of these ethereal beings.
"Gwyneth and Catrin?" One of them questioned, staring at Gwyn's uncle.
He nodded towards the two girls standing next to him. "There. They know enough to not be a bother."
The merfolk nodded, beckoning the twins closer with webbed fingers. Catrin stepped forward, and Gwyn followed.
Catrin stepped her feet into the water, and continued on until nothing but her head was visible, and then she began glowing. Gwyn watched in awe as Catrin's body changed, gills replacing the smooth skin of her neck, her skin getting thinner and thinner until her veins were visible, and then she rose, the rest of her human body having transformed to one of the mer folk, and Gwyn almost envied her sister for her beauty.
Almost.
Catrin raised her hands to her face as the blinding light emitting from her changed body faded, settling into a soft glow, and she beckoned Gwyn to step into the water with webbed fingers.
Gwyn loosed a deep breath, stepping forward.
Here goes nothing.
•○🌑○•
The palace was huge, and Gwyn gaped at it, wide eyed, as the two mermaids led her and her sister into the structure.
It was not long before the two of them were presented in front of the queen, and Gwyn could see the resemblance.
After all, she was Gwyn and Catrin's mother.
They were in a small sitting room, only a few servants and guards present.
The gorgeous female smiled, her hair cascading down her back in waves that looked like a waterfall.
"Welcome home children."
•○🌑○•
Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392
#gwyn x azriel#gwynriel#gwynriel fluff#gwyn berdara#gwyn acosf#gwyneth berdara#pro gwynriel#azriel x gwyn#gwyneth x azriel#azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel fluff#azriel shadowsinger#acotar series#acowar#a court of silver flames#acotar headcanon#mating bond#a court of thorns and roses#acotar writing#sarah j maas#acotar fanfic#acotar fluff#acotar fandom#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar gift exchange
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Could there be a Rift, or the remnants of one, in the Haldren Sea?
Is it permanently closed, or only dormant? Where could it possibly lead?
Please don’t share or screenshot this post without credit.
Disclaimer: this is just a parallel I noticed, which could obviously be very wrong. Thanks as always to @wingedblooms for listening when I send her random quotes and name definitions, I appreciate you so much. 💜
Spoilers: ACOTAR and CC series to date.
A while ago I was talking with @wingedblooms and @silverlinedeyes about the possibility that the gates or rifts between SJM's worlds could be closed - or "off the hook," to use an outdated term - due to a depleted power source, possibly because the three death god siblings were placed in strategic locations around Prythian in order to drain the land of the power required to activate them. I keep going back to Stargate, I know - not sorry - but it really does remind me of the ZPM crystals that were required to establish the long-distance wormholes between different galaxies (ie. in Stargate Atlantis). If they were drained, then the gates - or whatever else they were powering, like wards - couldn't function.
He was accustomed to cold, had explored as deep as his mer’s gifts would allow without his skull cracking like an egg, but this northern stretch of the Haldren Sea was different. It sucked the life from one’s bones, its grayness creeping into the soul. Though swimming would be a Hel of a lot less nauseating. - HOSAB, chapter 5
Light and dark and gray and light and dark and gray— - ACOMAF, chapter 57
I messaged @wingedblooms about this a little while back, but I've been wondering if the Haldren Sea, which was referred to as grey and leeching/sucking life from Tharion's bones etc, was where a Rift could have been; though whether that Rift, if it does exist, would have connected to Prythian or Erilea, or even somewhere else, is the question.
Interestingly - or maybe only coincidentally, it could be either - the name "Halden," which sounds very similar to "Haldren" (as in the sea of which Tharion spoke), means half Danish. Could this be a hint that the sea, or some part of it, is half in Midgard, and half elsewhere? Or is it reflected in the grey colour - grey being halfway between light and dark?
Regardless of where the Rift travels, the language reminds me of what happened to Elain when she visited the Court of Nightmares, during ACOSF.
Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her. - ACOSF, chapter 57
If the Court of Nightmares/Hewn City is an offshoot of the Dusk Court, as I've theorised before, could there be a gate or rift there that was trying to leech Elain's magic to establish itself, and that was why Cassian noted her appearance? Or was it the Court trying to revive itself with hypothetically compatible magic?
The similar language shared between the Book of Breathings' talk of "light and dark and gray" in ACOMAF, and Feyre's description of Elriel's Truth-Teller scene in ACOWAR, "light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection… that knife," which many consider to indicate some sort of Carranam bond - ie. a transfer of power, perhaps the grey? - between Elain and Azriel could possibly be significant here.
What, or whom, could end up acting as the bridge of connection between realms?
Will anyone other than Bryce traverse the space between? Is it relevant that Papa Archeron named his seafaring ships after his daughters?
When do we finally see Hel?
It sounds like it's all coming together, no?
#hosab spoilers#acosf spoilers#elain archeron#tharion ketos#acotar cc tog crossover theory#cc acotar crossover theories#elain's powers#light and dark and gray#haldren sea#northern rift#court of nightmares#hewn city#light and dark#the space between their bodies a blend of the two
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Masterlist
My Hero Academia
Deku misses date night (Deku)
Love Sick Deku (Deku)
Strangely Alone (Deku)
Hold Tight angst kinda (Bakugo)
King Bakugo x Mer Reader (Bakugo)
Dating Hawks at the workplace (Hawks)
ACOTAR
Mating Bond (Azriel)
Day full of Love (Azriel)
Kuroko’s Basketball
Unexpected guest (Aomine)
Pregncay headcanons (Aomine, Kagami, Kise)
#deku x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#bakugo x you#bakugou headcanons#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#my hero academia hawks#boku no hero academia hawks#mha hawks#hawks x reader#hawks fluff#acotar#mha x reader#kuroko no basuke#aomine x y/n#aomine proposal
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Mer!Azriel x reader: The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 4
A/N: a full twenty minutes of italicising later…
Word Count: 3,848
-Part 3- -Part 5-
——————————————————————————————————————————————
The water cools the aching sizzle to your skin, firm, powerful arms wrapped around your waist, a single palm pressed between your shoulder blades.
Eyes crack open, and you suddenly realise you can’t breathe.
Muscles seize, locking as contractions rip through your body, spasming and clenching as you thrash against his constraints. Scarified fingers firmly stroke over your ribs, gills stuttering to life again as air is hauled down into painfully tight lungs.
Moments pass, calming your heartbeat, settling back into the powerful lines of his body, tail brushing idly against your bound legs, still taking care to monitor and measure. The bones in your legs ache, but not as much—little enough you find yourself wrapping your arms around his back, cheek remaining against his shoulder as you’re swept back into the depths of unconsciousness.
————
When you return to the world, he’s taken you above water, thumbing away mischievous strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, plastering themselves to your skin.
“How do you feel?” He rasps lowly, forearm kept securely at the dip of your spine.
You blink wearily up at him, wishing to sink back into the water, finding the air too hot, too muggy. “How much longer?” You croak, head ducking into your shoulders, wanting to submerge yourself. “Likely a few more hours until the aches fade,” he responds, “you should stretch. It will help tomorrow, learning how to control your movements.”
That gets your attention, pushing up and away a little, enough so you can peer into his large, onyx gaze, able to see your reflection in his— Good Gods. You watch in the depthless black as fingers trace your skin, watching your own movements, pressing lightly to the lids of your eyes, now as round as his, equally dark. Ears stick from the sides of your head, like spines joined together by a thin layer of skin—similar to the webbed footing of sea creatures.
“What…?”
“It’s over,” he rasps, skin prickling beneath his touch as his hand soothes your back, sensitivity rippling across the area, a feeling of dizziness washing over you with such force you feel winded. His eyes widen marginally, hand snatching away, darting down to your side, vacating your spine hastily. Your pulse beats heavily in your ears, loud enough you could swear you hear the blood rushing. Breaths ease in and out, filling your chest as your heart begins to slow again.
“What’s over?” You manage, mind frazzled from the sudden torrent of sensitivity that’s racing across your skin, feeling tingly but…good. His throat rolls, and you mark it absently, eyes dropping briefly before returning to his, hardly aware of your own actions. He nods his head, and you follow his look. Instead of a pair of legs below you, lies a long, iridescent tail, sparkling with tiny, glittering scales.
You inhale sharply, startling as you automatically try to kick away from the foreign appendage but it moves with you. Azriel’s hands tighten on your hips, the rough pads of his fingers digging into the supple skin of your waist, keeping you from propelling yourself back into the barnacle-covered wall. Shakily, and with immense effort, you manage to still the writhing limb, finally settling to a halt.
“What— When did that happen?” You whisper hoarsely, hands subconsciously gripping the muscle of his upper arms, using him to anchor yourself. “While you were asleep,” he rasps in return. “You slept through it.” The edges of his mouth soften slightly, amusement gleaming in his dark eyes. “But I had hours left,” you argue quietly, “you said it would hurt, and would last until sunrise.”
“It’s past sunrise,” he answers, tail brushing against yours, making it flinch with curiosity.
You blink in surprise. “It’s…past sunrise…?” You repeat doubtfully, making the corners of his soft mouth quirk further. “Recently past,” he corrects, still with that gleam to his eyes.
“So it’s over…” you murmur hesitantly. “I’m not…it’s gone?” He nods, keeping you still in the water. “Are you ready to swim out?” He asks, and again you feel doubt flutter in the fit of your stomach at the raspy tone. “Swim out?” You question, brows fashioning themselves into a skeptical line. “Your muscles will begin aching and cramping shortly if they aren’t already, so it’s best to start using them to familiarise yourself with our movements.”
Not knowing how else to respond, you nod uncertainly—is he going to take you out from this cave?
“Remember to breathe,” he instructs quietly, before pulling you under, the cool sea water instantly soothing the warmth of your steadily drying hair. Gills flutter open, bringing in air via tiny capillaries, and he guides you down through the submerged tunnels. Though he doesn’t speak, you swear you can see amusement in his gaze while he swims leisurely through the water, watching as you gingerly pull yourself along the rock cave, tail occasionally twitching when you move to press your feet into the stone.
When you reach open water, you hesitate, peering out from the safety of the dark tunnel, staring into the open expanse of water before you—nothing but blue.
Scared?
You flinch, head snapping in his direction, shooting a scathing glare. His laugh echoes in your mind, hairs rising at the nape of your neck, something squirming in the pit of your stomach at the sound. What— How are you doing that? You think warily, fingers gripping tight to the jagged rock. He swims forward, and you instinctively want to shift further back into the cave but stand your ground.
How do you think we communicate underwater? He asks, hand beckoning you forward, out into the open. Doubtfully, you take it, palm pressing to his as you try to wiggle your tail. He blinks briefly, before his mouth softens almost imperceptibly, reaching out his other hand for you to hold.
I hadn’t thought about it, you answer honestly, focus directed on staring down at your tail, trying to connect the muscles to movement. So you can all freely communicate with one another? Anytime you want? You ask, shifting your gaze to meet his.
There are some requirements that need to be met, he replies, but for the most part, that’s right.
Your brow furrows. Why couldn’t you call for help when you were stranded? Surely you could have called for someone?
One of the requirements, he repeats, dodging the question. Curiosity licks up your spine, and you fix your gaze on him. You said we couldn’t have that conversation then, you remind him, but did you know my husband?
I thought we agreed he wasn’t your husband.
Your tail flicks sharply with irritation, sending you abruptly lancing forward. Azriel’s hands tighten on yours before swiftly moving to your shoulders, keeping you in place, moving so he’s slightly below you in the open water. A muscle in your jaw ticks, but you remember to keep your lips sealed shut. Did you know Alaric? You reiterate, fixing your gaze on him. In a sense, he replies casually, large dark eyes locked with your own, intensity simmering within the glittering onyx.
Stop avoiding the question, you seethe quietly, brow tightening. Give me a straight answer.
How about I give you an answer once you’ve figured out how to swim a little?
You glare at him begrudgingly, but relent. It’s not like you can force him to tell you. You’ll just have to go along with him for now. How do I do it? You ask, attempting to shift your tail in the motions he uses.
Azriel’s lips lift at the edges, before he’s shifting below you, hands coming to rest on your waist as if he’s lying on his back. Try just moving slowly, seeing what connects to where. Then become accustom with those movements. You send him a doubtful look, then try what he’s suggested. It sends you tipping forward, hands flying to press against his shoulders, keeping you from knocking him in the head with your own.
No sound enters your mind, but you feel his mirth whisper along your bones, warm and soft. It takes a while, but eventually you’re able to move how you want, but there are so many muscles it’s difficult to remember what goes where.
Now try rolling your tail, he instructs, and you stare at him blankly. Like I do, he reminds, a deep chuckle underlying his words. Azriel shifts again, and his hand brushes across the bare skin of your stomach. You bite back on the instinct to jerk away from the intimate touch. Most of your control will start here, he guides, palm splayed out, your pulse picking up as skin tingles. The muscles that connect to the tendon start here, and near the base of your spine. Then lower are the ones that help with angling your fins.
Before you can clock what he’s doing, his hand has slid lower, past your abdomen, moving to slip between— He pulls away, having spotted the way your muscles contracted. There’s nothing there for you to worry about, he reminds wryly, having you shoot him a heated look, lips pressed tight together. Keep your hands to yourself, you think back, having his own lips quirk.
He releases you, swimming out and away, coming to a stop the distance of about three small fishing boats away from you. Arms open tauntingly, hands beckoning with a gleam in his charcoal black gaze. Come over here, and I’ll answer your question, he challenges.
Are you serious? You snap, already feeling like you’re sinking despite not moving thanks to the air steadily flowing in and out of your lungs. Are you no longer interested? He asks.
Teeth grit together, and you instinctively open your arms to balance, feeling sensitive and overexposed in the water, no clothing concealing your skin from his intense eyes.
Slowly, you begin to shift your tail, moving haphazardly, with quick, jerking movements. This is ridiculous, you mutter, arms flailing as you try to keep in a straight line. You have to learn somehow, he counters, waiting patiently without hurrying you along. Allowing you to figure things out on your own.
After what feels like hours, the pads of your fingers brush over top his shoulders, broad and powerful palms settling around your waist, connecting you together. That was good, he says into your mind, you just need to practice, then you’ll be able to swim freely.
Don’t divert, you reply, staring at him, mind aching from frustration and concentration. His mouth shifts into a faint smile, soft and muted, and you become aware of the placement of his hands. The rough but gentle press of his fingers into the supple skin of your waist. You knew Alaric.
The smile slips away, mouth settling into a serious set. I did.
For how long? You ask, peering up into his onyx eyes.
I’ve known about his family line since humans settled there.
So a long time, you push quietly.
A long time indeed, he replies, signs of amusement long gone. Your brow dips at the seriousness of his expression. What happened? You ask, wariness lacing your tone. His features remain neutral, eyes unreadable, no matter how deep you try to peer into his mind.
Mer are difficult to kill for humans, but not impossible, he begins quietly. The scale he wears around his neck is one I know, and was familiar with. You wait for him to continue, but he seems reluctant to give anymore, and you feel hesitant to push. You have no idea how recent this is for him, only that you first noticed the scale a few years ago. Does time feel the same for him, or is a couple of years similar to mere months?
Was the person special to you? You ask quietly, wary of prodding old wounds.
As special as most of mer are to one another, he answers, as a dwindling species, we have to look after our own and take care of ourselves.
So how did you end up caught in that wire? His expression hardens, skin prickling at the look, unable to remove your gaze from his, a magnetic pull keeping you attached.
They’ve begun lacing wire with a poison that reacts to our kind. A nick alone could be fatal to a child with how badly it reacts with our magic, he explains calmly, ice underling his tone. And that wire had the poison on? You ask, already having guessed at the answer. He nods, and your eyes drop to his throat, voice still raspy from where it had sliced and constricted. It’ll heal, he says quietly into your mind, reading the question in your gaze. Or perhaps you’d already thought it aloud.
I’m sorry that happened to you, you think softly, still watching him silently, unable to look away. The pads of his fingers press a little harder into the softness of waist, but you don’t try to wriggle away. I’m sorry you ended up with a husband like him, he replies, having your features sour. But then they soften a little. I don’t think it was all bad, you murmur. Azriel’s brow narrows, peering down at you.
Don’t try and make excuses for him, he warns lowly, you didn’t deserve someone who hurt you.
I wasn’t going to make excuses for him, you reply tersely, features shifting to match his own before relaxing. But I wouldn’t have gotten out otherwise.
He watches you silently, an indiscernible expression upon his features, something flickering through his gaze at your admission.
Maybe it isn’t all bad.
————
Much to your irritation, he’d made you swim most of the way back to the cave system, saying it would help to get as much practice in as possible to help keep the aches at bay. At least until your body is fully healed from the sudden change. He’d taken you through another series of tunnels, leading deeper and deeper, going slowly to make sure you didn’t crash into any of the walls.
The cave opens up into a large cavern, and sea water nearly fills your mouth, fighting to resist the urge to part your lips in awe.
Before you is a magnificent cavern, lit by glowing little creatures that stick to the walls, multi-coloured coral scattered across the sandy bottom like a hand-knitted blanket. A beautiful arrangement of aquamarine blues, waterlily pinks, and starfish oranges. Seaweed coats the walls in thick patches, waving like tall grass with the current that passes through the tunnels. Speckled, shimmering fish dart in and out from smoothed out stones littered in mother-of-pearl shells, shimmering like silver as colourful tails flicker with energetic life. Across the floor tiny crabs scuttle, painted a pretty red like the horizon on a clear sunset.
What is this place? You manage to think, eyes darting repeatedly from one side of the cavern to the other, each time picking out new things to peer at and examine. The edges of Azriel’s mouth lift into a smile, and he swims deeper, evidently familiar with the haven. I made it, he responds, passing through a patch of seaweed, small fishes already gathering and moving with him, tiny flashes of silver as they match his speed and direction.
You made it? You echo, staring at him.
Well, some of it was already here, he replies, and you can hear the low laughter in his tone, deep and rich. I didn’t carve the cave out, that was already here. Same as the coral. But the creatures and a few other other things—I brought those in.
You stare in wonder at the cave, so beautiful and thriving with life and an undercurrent of energy. It’s amazing, you think as he swims up to your side, making to bring you further into his world—still at the lip of the tunnel. There’s another cave like this, deeper out at sea, he thinks, and you manage to rip your gaze from the cavern, sensing what he’s about to say is important. It’s called the Rainbow, he says quietly, it’s much larger than here. The coral is thicker, life is more prominent, and the whole place glows.
Eyes blink, trying to comprehend a place more beautiful. Is that what made you want to create this? You question softly, meeting his onyx gaze. The Rainbow? He nods, inky hair swaying with the motion. Come, he says, there are more creatures at the bed.
You don’t have it in you to resist as he swims to be above you, hands gently latching to your hips as he helps guide you lower, able to see more flashes of colour as life becomes apparent. More crabs scuttling, tall and spiralling sea shells that gleam with pearl, strange purple blobs that have a slightly red hue and look gooey and gelatinous. Starfishes are plastered to the rock, colourful plants that look like tubes sticking out while fishes dart about the bed, stirring up wisps of sand.
How long did this take? You ask him, managing to swim lower as he releases you, lips stretching when you peer beneath a rock, finding a red and blue speckled octopus napping in the shade. Centuries, he responds, watching as you explore, pulse thumping in his chest. It’s still developing, and will continue to do so long after I’m gone.
You swim further, selecting a shell to pick up, examining it in the pretty lights, watching how the colours shine across its surface. A red, white, and black striped fish swims past, and you follow after it, using your hands to scale the rock instead of your tail.
Try swimming, he reminds, chuckling. You won’t get any better if you crawl everywhere like that. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, the fish vanishing from sight in the brief moments you looked away. It’s been less than a day, you snap, pulling yourself along the rock stubbornly. I’m allowed to take a break from practicing. Besides, if I solely use my tail, I’ll end up looking like you.
Looking like me? He asks, mirth clear, and you feel the rush of water as he swims by, dipping behind a nearby rock. Yes, you reply, narrowing your eyes at where you last saw him, but you’re steadily realising there are so many spots to hide, with the large stones, the coral, and the thick seaweed.
And what do you mean by that? He asks lowly, and you look behind yourself, checking to see if you can spot him, the water feeling eerily still without his visible presence. You turn to survey the expanse before you, and he glides up from a dip between the rock you’re perched on, coming to a stop before you, but you refuse to yield your ground. I’m a woman, you say, as if it’s self-explanatory. You certainly are, he replies, eyes gleaming with something that has your skin prickling. Tightening. It takes quite a lot of effort not to pull back, to keep your ground when he’s so close before you. But I don’t understand what that has to do with not being able to move efficiently.
You roll your eyes, stomach fluttering as tiny fishes dart around your hair, brushing against the bare skin of your arms. I don’t need all those muscles, you say as nonchalantly as possible, giving him a dismissive look. Maybe not all of them, he concedes, a faint smile on his lips, pushing forward a little. But some of them, if you want to swim.
Of course I want to swim, you counter, wondering if you imagined him coming forward. Just not now. My stomach hurts from all the movement.
That’s good, he responds, that faint smile still playing on soft lips.
It’s painful, you reply, frowning. I don’t like it.
It means you’ve used them, he says, and you swear he moves forward again.
I suppose I don’t have the best relationship with pain, you think, then blink, eyes widening. The smile slides from his face, and you tense. You weren’t— I just mean pain is pain. Obviously I don’t like it.
You make to turn away, but rough, scarified palms slide overtop your hands, keeping them gently but firmly pressed to the smooth stone, preventing you from breaking off from him.
You don’t have to lie to me, he says, watching you silently, eyes locked with your own, and you once again find yourself unable to pull away. You don’t have to hide it from me.
Because you saw him try to kill me? You manage wryly, fingers pressing against a small group of barnacles.
Because you’re out, he replies, hands sliding to fully encompass your own, thumbs swiping at the skin.
Head dips down, peering at the way his hands have latched over yours. The flecks of colour in the rock, speckled about.
Will you tell me how you got those? You ask, trying to change the subject. His hands tense over yours, and his attention slides downward also, the two of you observing how your palms are intertwined. This isn’t a conversation for now, he says, and you feel more than see his walls building up. Hands pull away from yours, and before you can help yourself you’ve moved forward. Palms shakily pressing overtop his own, reversing your previous position so the pads of his fingers are the ones against the small group of barnacles.
Was it from humans? You ask silently, peering into those deep, dark eyes. Is that why you don’t like us?
I got them from other mer, he replies shortly, but quietly, tension clear in the powerful frame of his figure. Shock sparks in your chest, blinking as you stare at him. A—mer? A mer did that to you? But aren’t those—
Burn marks.
Your throat rolls, and your hands pull away, enough to reveal the scarred flesh beneath. His gaze weighs into you, emotion heavy but you’re unable to pinpoint exactly what it is.
My—… Alaric once set my hair on fire, you admit quietly, peering down at his hands so you don’t have to see what’s in his expression. He tipped the table over, and a candle got mixed up. I had to have it cut short because such a large portion was burned off. Thumbs swipe across the rough skin, how he’d done for you, and you manage to meet his eyes. Depthless and dark.
Peer quietly at the warped flesh, twisted and swollen from the burning lick of flames, sizzled and popped to mould it into what it is now.
You manage to meet his gaze, deep and swirling, like a whirlpool, suctioning you deeper into his mind. I’m sorry that happened to you, Azriel, you think, holding his attention, fingers still settled over his. Something beginning to shift and soften between you. Something quiet and ineffable.
He swallows, but nods briefly. I’m sorry your husband did that to you.
No smile raises your lips, but amusement curls with your tone. Ex-husband.
Right, he returns, something dancing in those onyx eyes of his. Ex-husband.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
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must draw (or commission someone) to draw azriel.. in their mer forms.. cuddling. Bc they cuddle each night.
I need it
just imaging azul wrapping all his limbs around Ariel (protectively) is just 🤌🤌🤌
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Sjm teleportation/Winnowing talk
(Major House of Sky and Breath Spoilers/ + Readers who have completed/gotten through certain aspects in Hosab will understand)
•
In the Crescent City books, Teleportation in CC is only an ability among the Starborn.
“It was once a gift of the Starborn. It was the reason I became so … focused on attaining the Starsword. I thought my ability to teleport meant that the bloodline had resurfaced in me, as I’ve never met anyone else who can do it.”
House of Sky and Breath, Cormac
Various characters in Prythian (Acotar), can teleport, also known as winnowing in their world. E.g of known Acotar characters that have the ability:
Rhys
Eris Vanserra
Morrigan
Feyre Archeron (only short distances)
Lucien Vanserra
The High Lords (all high lords can winnow)
The Mortal queens (ability granted to them by the Fae after the signing of the Treaty, it only works in the presence of several of them)
Rhys’s Father
Dagdan
+ If any Acotar readers are confused, Azriel is also able to teleport to different areas, however, this is because of his abilities as a shadowsinger rather than the ability to winnow.
So, Characters from all seven courts in Prythain can winnow, it isn’t tied to one court.
It’s unconfirmed @ the near end of Hosab that The Starborn and perhaps cc fae’s home world is Prythian but it’s with a certainty that they’re home world actually is Prythian from the description Rigelus, one of the Asteri gave to Bryce.
“Not your kind of Fae, of course—your breed dwelled in a lovely, verdant land, rich with magic. If it’s of any interest to you, your Starborn bloodline specifically hailed from a small isle a few miles from the mainland. And while the mainland had all manner of climes, the isle existed in beautiful, near-permanent twilight.”
House of Sky and Breath, Rigelus
If that’s true, the Starborn, Bryce’s bloodline, hailed from Prythian. Some (you’ll get this later in the post) Animal shifters/unconfirmed homeworld Angels aren’t from Prythian. They cannot teleport/winnow, as far as I know like Cormac, a Non-shifter fae prince, and Bryce + Ruhn. (Ruhn does not teleport in any of the cc novels)
Now cc animal shifter information:
“Rigelus chuckled again. “We shall get to that in a moment.” He went on, “Danika realized that the shifters are Fae.”
“But only a select few in the entirety of your world could shift from their humanoid forms to animal ones. The Midgard shifters were Fae from a different planet. All the Fae in that world shared their form with an animal. The mer descended from them, too. Perhaps they once shared a world with your breed of Fae, but they had been alone on their planet for long enough to develop their own gifts.”
More of what Rigelus informed Bryce of @ the near end of Hosab
A rare amount of known characters or also known as shape shifting magic users can shift into some sort of animal form in Prythian.
E.g
Tamlin, takes form of some sort of beast
Rhys, same as Tamlin, a sort of beast
Andres, wolf form
+ Certain that the entirety of the high lords have an animal form
So maybe a rarity who shift can teleport in Midguard or maybe it’s only a non-shifting fae thing as It’s not said in any of the cc books.
But the whole point of this post was that winnowing/Teleportation hailed from beings in Prythian (acotar)
#Hosab#winnowing#Acotar#crescent city#bryce quinlan#crescent city 2#House of Sky and Breath#Hoeab#house of sky and breath spoilers#rhysand#sjm theories#prythian#feyre archeron#Starborn#a court of thorns and roses#Ruhn Danaan#Sjm#Sjm talk#hunt alathar
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If ACOTAR characters lived in Crescent City what houses do you think they would give their allegiance too, whether born into thar house or not?
The House of Earth and Blood is one of the four Houses of Midgard, as decreed in 33 V.E. by the Imperial Senate in the Eternal City. The members of the House of Earth and Blood are shifters, humans, witches, ordinary animals, and many others to whom Cthona calls, as well as some chosen by Luna.
Elain, Miryam, Rhys, Helion, Tamlin, Bone Carver, Jurian, Hybern
The House of Flame and Shadow is one of the four Houses of Midgard, as decreed in 33 V.E. by the Imperial Senate in the Eternal City. The members of the House of Flame and Shadow are Daemonaki, Reapers, wraiths, vampyrs, draki, dragons, necromancers, and many wicked and unnamed things that even Urd herself cannot see.
Nesta, all Illyrians, including Azriel and Cassian, though I feel like Cassian could be at the House of Earth and Blood too, Bryaxis, Stryga, Vassa, Nuala and Cerridwen
The House of Many Waters is one of the four Houses of Midgard, as decreed in 33 V.E. by the Imperial Senate in the Eternal City. The members of the House of Many Waters are River-spirits, Mer, water beasts, nymphs, kelpies, nøkks, and others watched over by Ogenas.
Gwyn, Feyre, Tarquin
The House of Sky and Breath is one of the four houses of Midgard, as decreed in 33 V.E. by the Imperial Senate in the Eternal City. The members of the House of Sky and Breath are Malakim, Fae, elementals, sprites, and those who are blessed by Solas, along with some favored by Luna.
Eris, Lucien, Amren, Mor, Koschei, Varian, Amarantha, Drakon
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Secrets I (Elriel quarantine fic)
Here’s a lil Elriel fic, sorry it’s so short!
Masterlist
The sun shone brightly through the thin, gossamer curtain allowing buttery sunlight to shine through the curtains onto a tan, chiseled face. That warm ray of sunshine urged him to awaken and seize the day, to make the most of the springtime sunshine before it became gloomy clouds and morose raindrops.
He huffed out an annoyed sigh, shoving that silken pillow over his head to block out that light, and the birds that awoke and sang along with it, their cheery song both high-pitched and strangely soothing. He wanted absolutely nothing more than to go back to sleep and pretend that everything which had been happening for the last several days had been nothing more than some sort of a strange dream, from which he would soon awaken.
Somewhere distantly, he heard someone clattering and clunking around in the kitchen, pots and pans crashing loudly together with jarring clangs. Azriel sighed, as the beginnings of a migraine began pounding behind his eyes. Resigned, he began the long process of getting out of bed, taking a break between each step to reminisce about how much he would rather be asleep.
After a particularly loud crash, he half-stumbled, half-slid his way into the kitchen, both stunned and utterly unsurprised at the sight before him: Elain was mixing together several different suspicious substances in a large bowl, which was filled to the brim with foaming bubbles.
She glanced up, and instantly seemed to recognize the burning question in his dark eyes. “I promise I have a reasonable explanation for this.” She promised, those rosy lips curling into a warm, sweet smile even as her cheeks pinkened.
Azriel’s lips curled into a polite grimace, eyes wandering over the foaming substance, that was both somehow thick and runny. “Alright…” He muttered, keeping that bowl at an arm's length. “Do I want to know your explanation?”
A strange, wet slurp came from that bowl as a bubble rose slowly to the surface, then popped, and Elain let out a stiff giggle. “Heh...Would you believe me if I said I was making pancakes?”
“I think Gordon Ramesey might need a restraining order.”
She leaned over, slapping his forearm lightly. “It’s not that bad. Is it?”
His stomach gave a painful tug. “No offense El, that looks disgusting.”
Elain huffed a laugh. “None taken. Too bad we can’t just order pancakes from Rita’s.”
Azriel hummed his agreement, moving to help her clean up the mess, while mulling over the news wafting in from the TV in the living room. As he rounded the counter, he found that she was in one of her old gardening t-shirts, and a pair of sweatpants that looked frighteningly similar to a pair of his own sweatpants that mysteriously disappeared a few weeks prior.
They worked in quiet harmony together, both listening to the latest updates regarding the virus. “...Governor announced that the quarantine will last for a minimum of two weeks, though it is possible it could go on for as long as five. During this time, Governor Inslee has mandated that all non-essential shops and stores close their doors, and all non-essential workers be sent home. We also ask that those who have the resources to please work from home, or telecommute if possible to prevent the spread of COVID19. The governor will be giving daily updates on any new information that we receive.”
The doe-eyed girl let out a huff, watching as Azriel emptied her mixture into the garbage with a wet thwap. “I can’t believe this.”
He glanced up. “What? That we can’t order pancakes?”
“No, I mean the virus. This doesn’t feel real.”
Humming his agreement, he began washing the dishes. “Me neither. This feels like we’re stuck in some sort of a dystopian novel, or some bad dream that we’ll wake up from.” Making to open the fridge, to put away the milk and eggs, Azriel let out a groan, running a hand down his face.
Elain, seated on the counter, hopped down. “What’s wrong?”
He stepped aside, allowing her to see into the fridge. “We have to make a run to the store. We’re out of almost everything.” Indeed, the fridge was nearly empty save for a few beers, and a loaf of nearly-molding bread.
With both twenty-something adults muttering curses that would have paint peeling from the walls, they lumbered out of Azriel’s house, and down to his truck. Elain scurried back into the house, then re-emerged wearing a hoodie that was most certainly Azriel’s, and carrying two bandanas, One black, and one pale pink.
She slipped into the passenger seat, and buckled herself in. Azriel chuckled at his best friend as he pulled out of the driveway, and the car crackled down the gravel pathway towards the highway. He pretended not to notice as she connected her phone to the AUX, even when god-awful pop music began blaring through his speakers.
Letting out a squeal, she turned the volume down, and began shuffling through her albums. Again, he pretended not to notice when he glanced over, and saw her familiar disney playlist.
He finally caved when she began plating under the sea, and let out a loud and fake groan. “No way in hell am I going to listen to this.” He moaned, fighting the grin that tugged at his lips.
Elain grinned, a lock of wavy blonde hair slipping out of her ponytail. “Oh, really?” She teased, wriggling her phone in the air. “Seems like I have the AUX, not you.” She teased,
Azriel let out an offended sound, keeping his eyes on the mostly empty highway before them. “Come on!” He moaned, feigning being hurt. “Everyone knows that the driver gets the AUX. You’re not being fair.”
“Oh, the driver gets the AUX?”
“Yeah, he does.”
“Really?” His best friend teased.
“Yep!”
“Says who?” Elain grinned, turning sideways in her seat to fame him.
“Says me.” He stated, that grin at last slipping through. “My car, my rules.”
Elain let out a joking huff, but switched the songs.
Instantly, he recognized the melody, and began singing along. Once they reached the chorus, he began to belt it out. “Into the UnknOOOOOOOooooOOOOooown!”
Elain squealed, covering mer ears. “You’re awful!” She teased, sending him a silly glare.
He only smiled. “Come on, Acheron.” He teased, nudging her with his elbow as they pulled into the grocery store parking lot. “You love it.” Elain shook her head wildly, then tied her bandana around her face and slipped from the car.
Turning his truck off, he slipped the keys into the pocket of his hoodie, put his bandana on, and followed Elain towards the store. Once he reached the entrance, he glanced around. A strange feeling settling in his gut when it dawned on him that he couldn’t see her.
Suddenly, something warm and heavy slammed into his back, small arms wrapping around his neck. Azriel let out a winded gasp as Elain burst into joyous laughter. “Got you!” she sing-songed, skipping a short ways ahead, and leading him into the store.
“Nah, you didn’t.” He teased, stopping to pick out a cart, and rolling it into the store.
“What?” She gaped, shoving her way against his side to help him push that cart. He gave in, wrapping one arm around her, the other still pushing the cart and ignored the fluttering in his chest. “I so, totally, got you.”
“Nope.”
“How?” She demanded, as they began to pick necessities off the shelves and tossing them into the cart.
Azriel sent her a wicked grin. “Because you’re short.” He teased, tossing in a few cans of soup. “I was only worried that you got run over by a caterpillar.”
She gave him a jokingly furious glare. “I’m short? Really?”
Leading them towards the produce aisle, he grinned. “Yep, I have to make sure I don’t accidentally step on you.”
Elain let out an offended gasp. “You’re one to talk, mister six foot six.”
“Hmm?” He teased, cupping a hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you down there.”
She harrumphed, and began loading in some more groceries. “I’m a perfectly normal height, sir.” She muttered, tossing in a packet of rosemary. “You, on the other hand, are freakishly tall.”
“Oh, please.” He muttered, placing a bag of apples into the cart. “I’ve seen garden gnomes taller than you.”
Elain froze, then turned towards him. For a split second, he turned cold, fearing that he had somehow hit a nerve and offended her. He waited several seconds for her to burst out laughing, but she didn’t, and Azriel’s stomach began roiling and knotting. “El, I-”
He was interrupted by her sticking her tongue out at him, and blowing a raspberry, and bursting into uncontrollable laughter, her eyes clenching shut as tears rolled down her pink cheeks.
Azriel turned the cart, and began moving towards the checkout lines. “You’re insufferable. You know that, right?” He muttered when she finally caught up to him.
“I know.” She chirped, beaming.
His stomach flipped painfully at the sight.
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Actes 4.23-37
Donne à tes serviteurs d’annoncer ta parole avec une pleine assurance. Actes 4.29
Actes 4.23-37
23 Une fois relâchés, Pierre et Jean allèrent trouver les leurs et racontèrent tout ce que les chefs des prêtres et les anciens leur avaient dit. 24 Après les avoir écoutés, ils s'adressèrent tous ensemble à Dieu en disant: «Maître, tu es le Dieu qui as créé le ciel, la terre, la mer et tout ce qui s'y trouve,25 c'est toi qui as dit [par le Saint-Esprit,] par la bouche de [notre père,] ton serviteur David: Pourquoi cette agitation parmi les nations et ces préoccupations dépourvues de sens parmi les peuples?26 Les rois de la terre se sont soulevés et les chefs se sont ligués ensemble contre le Seigneur et contre celui qu'il a désigné par onction. 27 Il est bien vrai qu'Hérode et Ponce Pilate se sont ligués [dans cette ville] avec les nations et les peuples d'Israël contre ton saint serviteur Jésus, que tu as consacré par onction;28 ils ont accompli tout ce que ta main et ta volonté avaient décidé d'avance.29 Et maintenant, Seigneur, sois attentif à leurs menaces et donne à tes serviteurs d'annoncer ta parole avec une pleine assurance,30 déploie ta puissance pour qu'il se produise des guérisons, des signes miraculeux et des prodiges par le nom de ton saint serviteur Jésus!»31 Quand ils eurent prié, l'endroit où ils étaient rassemblés trembla; ils furent tous remplis du Saint-Esprit et ils annonçaient la parole de Dieu avec assurance.Solidarité des croyants32 La foule de ceux qui avaient cru n'était qu'un coeur et qu'une âme. Personne ne disait que ses biens lui appartenaient en propre, mais ils mettaient tout en commun. 33 Avec beaucoup de puissance, les apôtres rendaient témoignage de la résurrection du Seigneur Jésus, et une grande grâce reposait sur eux tous.34 Il n'y avait aucun nécessiteux parmi eux: tous ceux qui possédaient des champs ou des maisons les vendaient, apportaient le prix de ce qu'ils avaient vendu 35 et le déposaient aux pieds des apôtres; et l'on faisait des distributions à chacun en fonction de ses besoins.36 Joseph - celui que les apôtres surnommaient Barnabas, ce qui signifie «fils d'encouragement» -, un Lévite originaire de Chypre,37 vendit un champ qu'il possédait, apporta l'argent et le déposa aux pieds des apôtres.
1 Chroniques 5.1-26
5 Descendants de Ruben, l'aîné d'Israël. En effet, c'était lui le premier-né, mais, parce qu'il avait souillé le lit de son père, son droit d'aînesse fut donné aux fils de Joseph, le fils d'Israël, si bien qu'il ne fut pas enregistré dans les généalogies comme le premier-né.2 Quant à Juda, il fut certes puissant parmi ses frères et de lui est issu un prince, mais le droit d'aînesse appartenait à Joseph.3 Descendants de Ruben, l'aîné d'Israël: Hénoc, Pallu, Hetsron et Carmi. 4 Descendants de Joël: Shemaeja, lui-même père de Gog, père de Shimeï,5 père de Michée, père de Reaja, père de Baal, 6 père de Beéra, que Tilgath-Pilnéser, roi d'Assyrie, emmena en exil. Il était chef des Rubénites.7 Voici ceux qui étaient apparentés à Beéra en fonction de leurs clans, tels qu'ils sont enregistrés dans les généalogies en fonction de leur lignée: à leur tête était Jeïel, puis venaient Zacharie8 et Béla, fils d'Azaz et petit-fils de Shéma, le fils de Joël. Ils habitaient à Aroër et leur territoire s'étendait jusqu'à Nebo et à Baal-Meon.9 A l'est, ils avaient pour habitation jusqu'à l'entrée du désert qui fait séparation avec l'Euphrate. En effet, ils avaient de nombreux troupeaux dans le pays de Galaad. 10 A l'époque de Saül, ils firent la guerre aux Hagaréniens et les battirent. Ils habitèrent alors dans leurs tentes, sur tout le côté est de Galaad.11 Les descendants de Gad habitaient vis-à-vis d'eux, dans le pays du Basan et jusqu'à Salca. 12 Joël était à leur tête, Shapham venait en deuxième, puis venaient Jaenaï et Shaphath en Basan.13 Voici ceux qui leur étaient apparentés en fonction de leur famille: Micaël, Meshullam, Shéba, Joraï, Jaecan, Zia et Eber, ce qui fait 7.14 Ils étaient les fils d'Abichaïl, lui-même fils de Huri, fils de Jaroach, fils de Galaad, fils de Micaël, fils de Jeshishaï, fils de Jachdo, fils de Buz. 15 Achi, fils d'Abdiel et petit-fils de Guni, était le chef de leurs familles.16 Ils habitaient en Galaad, en Basan et dans les villes qui en dépendaient, ainsi que jusqu'aux confins de tous les territoires du Saron. 17 Ils furent tous enregistrés dans les généalogies durant les règnes de Jotham sur Juda et de Jéroboam sur Israël.18 Les Rubénites, les Gadites et la demi-tribu de Manassé disposaient de 44'760 vaillants hommes capables de manier le bouclier et l'épée ou de tirer à l'arc. C'étaient des hommes formés à la guerre et aptes au service militaire.19 Ils firent la guerre aux Hagaréniens ainsi qu'à Jethur, Naphish et Nodab. 20 Ils reçurent du secours contre eux, et les Hagaréniens et tous ceux qui étaient avec eux furent livrés entre leurs mains. En effet, pendant le combat, ils avaient crié à Dieu, et il les exauça parce qu'ils avaient placé leur confiance en lui.21 Ils prirent les troupeaux de leurs adversaires: 50'000 chameaux, 250'000 brebis et 2000 ânes, et firent 100'000 prisonniers.22 Il y eut beaucoup de morts, parce que le combat dépendait de Dieu, et ils s'installèrent à leur place jusqu'au moment de l'exil.23 Les membres de la demi-tribu de Manassé habitaient dans le pays qui va du Basan jusqu'à Baal-Hermon, c'est-à-dire Senir ou le mont Hermon. Ils étaient nombreux.24 Voici les chefs de leurs familles: Epher, Jisheï, Eliel, Azriel, Jérémie, Hodavia et Jachdiel. C'étaient de vaillants hommes, des hommes respectés, qui étaient chefs de leurs familles.25 Cependant, ils firent preuve d'infidélité envers le Dieu de leurs ancêtres et se prostituèrent aux dieux des peuples du pays que Dieu avait détruits devant eux.26 Le Dieu d'Israël réveilla l'esprit de Pul, roi d'Assyrie, l'esprit de Tilgath-Pilnéser, roi d'Assyrie, et celui-ci exila les Rubénites, les Gadites et la demi-tribu de Manassé. Il les conduisit à Chalach, à Chabor, à Hara et au fleuve qui coule à Gozan, où ils sont restés jusqu'à aujourd'hui.
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An Ever-Changing Sea
read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2W0V5Ea
by AubreyDorst
The war is done and Tarquin is left to pick up the pieces of his court and his life. While he has everything; cousins who love him, territories he adores, subjects who respect him; Tarquin is still lonely, still alone.
Mer is a free spirit, and always has been. She escaped the harsh fate of wing-clipping that plagued a lifetime of Illyrian warriors but that doesn’t mean she wants to fight. The sea calls to her and she finds herself in the sea-side city of Adriata. As she stays to build a future, what else will she find?
Words: 4012, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M
Characters: Tarquin (ACoTaR), Original Characters, Varian (ACoTaR), Cresseida (ACoTaR), Amren (ACoTaR), Rhysand (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron, Morrigan (ACoTaR), Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel (ACoTaR)
Relationships: Tarquin (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Amren/Varian (ACoTaR), Amren & Varian (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Additional Tags: Summer Court, Adriata, tarquin, Original Character: Mer
read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2W0V5Ea
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