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illyrian-dreamer · 3 months

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Dance with the devil – Part 1

Rhysand x fem!reader series

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Words: 3.3k

TW: Violence, death

Notes: Morally grey Rhysand below the cuff 😈😈😈

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Tick, tick, tick.

That stern voice nagged in your mind, laced with forewarning and impatience that only frustrated you further.

You had just minutes to find the scroll and get out.

With gritted teeth, you leaned closer, drowning out that voice - likely your mothers - as well as the drumming of your heart, waiting for that final click.

You were versed in charming locks, picking them when you had to, just as you did now. And what waited on the other side of this door was worth every swallow of bile, every rise and swell of panic that begged you to think of the consequence - of what would happen if you were caught.

It was only a half-moon prior that you had snuck into the infamous libraries of the Day Court while the city slept, hunting concealed maps and etchings of Helion’s castle. You studied the corridors and winding staircases of the impressive home, squinting through the flickering glow of the small fae light you had allowed yourself to cast, anxious eyes lifting reluctantly every so often, humouring the phantom furl of a page or shiver down your spine.

So you pressed those routes to memory – sewers, plumbing, hidden passageways marked in some maps and not others. They were your only true salvage if things went wrong.

Weapons were now strapped to every part of your leathers that would allow, layers of magic shielding your scent and sound so strong it made your joints ache, as if buckling under their weight.

Easy in, easy out, quick on your feet and don't look back.

That mantra was your only comfort as you silently slipped into the lavish guest suite, a breath of relief that its layout matched your efforts of breaking into the libraries. Because although night never found this court, there was only a small window in which the High Lords were away from their suites, and time was a persistent foe.

It was incredibly risky to break into the guest quarters of the High Lord of the Night Court, especially after Hellion had declared his home a neutral grounds for the High Lord’s meeting. But what Rhysand possessed was invaluable – that scroll of ancient tongue, the only one of it’s kind. It was worth the risk of your own life, of certain death if you were caught.

Careful, gloved fingers sifted through the papers on the desk, making sure not to leave anything out of place.

The details you had gained on the High Lord were valuable – he was neat, more than neat, really – his room immaculate and organised. A paper left rippled, a chair at a slight angle, even a stray hair on the sprawling marble floor – all were things he would surely notice.

But you could tread lightly, could play to that game of fine detail. Nimble as a mouse – that’s how your father had always described you, affection warming his face as he compared you to your boisterous brother.

With a clench of your heart, you forced the memory out. Once you had that scroll – soon. You would be together again soon.

As you crouched low to sift through the chestnut draws, mahogany carved with the kind of finery that made you sick, a hint of gold gleamed from the corner of the room, the light catching your eye.

Padding with quiet creaks from your boots, you allowed yourself only a moment to admire the array of scrolls that lay in the wooden chest – it’s lid tipped open, beckoning to be explored. In the centre perched the most exotic of the artefacts. Boring rings of gold, it winked at you, a true diamond in the rough.

With gentle inspection, you traced the characters etched in it’s casing, a cryptic ode of ancient tongue.

A whisper of magic kissed your face, stray hairs dancing as goosebumps prickling beneath your leathers. It was waft of excitement, danger, magic aged by civilisations – this was a powerful scroll indeed.

With a hand on each end of the casing, you gently lifted the scroll into your satchel, careful not to knock it or disturb the casing. You would return it after all, once traced.

There was a shift in the air then, and a sinking feeling rippled through your abdomen, like a stone dropped into still water.

Get out – that voice urged.

You had spent too long here already.

Swallowing the fastening hammer of your heart, you raised from your knees, eyeing the unsuspecting cupboard – behind it a hidden door, and behind that a winding pathway would lead you clear to the gardens.

You almost scoffed – this was easier than you had thought.

How could the High Lord be so reckless to leave something of this value lying about?

The pit of your stomach deepened.

Too easy – much, much too easy.

An open, gaping well.

Oh gods, this was a–

And then darkness – everywhere.

You gasped, catching glimpses of red and blue as you staggered back. Your back hit something solid – no, someone. Strong arms gripped yours wrists, pinning them behind you. You tried to yell, but your breath hitched as violet eyes glowered amongst the tendrils of midnight smog, choking any sound that whined in your throat.

“Well well, what do we have here?” a sultry voice purred, a refined silhouette emerging from the darkness, tall and broad.

A gleam of teeth pulled with a feline smile, the figure prowling closer. Dangerous, lethal, ever knowing with a hint of cockiness.

And as tendrils of night magic cleared around their master, the High Lord of the Night Court was revealed.

Rhysand’s eyes danced with amusement as he watched realisation set in – your own features taut with horror.

“Hello, Y/N darling.”

You were dead meat.

A heavy, intrusive sensation caused a shiver to rack through you as phantom claws tore through your useless shields, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of your own fear.

Rhysand’s pretty grin only grew.

In a hopeless attempt to flee, you barely moved an inch as you tugged against the impossible grip on your arms.

He was closing in, coldness seeping from him as his magic curling in on itself, devouring any hints of warmth from the room, from your own veins.

And then he stopped, just one agonising pace shy from your heaving chest.

Here he was – High Lord of the Night Court. Wickedly cruel, arrogant and unnervingly calm, a cat who toyed with its food. The legendary villain of whispered rumours and horror stories exchanged amongst children of your village in the court of Dawn, parents so tired from their youngens loss of sleep that he was a banished name from many households.

Your eyes danced with a panic as instincts forced you to look for any chance of survival. Dressed with finery, but not a weapon on him – that was good.

But as the shadows began to clear, another male was revealed perching patiently against the wall behind, blue siphons flickering as he stood with wide legs, arms crossed and face stoic. Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster, waited patiently for your attempt of escape, his own shadows at the ready.

Fuck.

That meant the male that bound you was Cassian – Warlord and Chief General of the Illyrian armies.

You were as good as dead.

Your breathing stuttered as you swallowed the plea for mercy begging at your lips. They were going to kill you, that was certain. You could only hope they would do it quickly.

“My my, Y/N,” Rhysand drawled, his voice playful and sensual. “We weren't certain if you were going to take the bait.”

Placing hands on knees, he lowered himself to your level, those violet eyes captivating you, their depth incomprehensible. You tried to break Rhys’s gaze, but you rendered helpless, realising the cruel use of his magic.

“But I’m so glad this is how we get to meet.”

He was expecting you?

You glared back, your breaths quickening at the dangerous proximity.

If not at his mercy, you would have spat at his condescending manner. But instead you fought aimlessly against Cassian’s hold, the male pulling you back against his chest with a jarring tug, his grip tightening until you felt your pulse in your wrists.

Your mind was scattering with each second, frantic eyes dancing at the High Lord before you. You hadn't expected him to be so… handsome.

“Why, thank you,” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at you, that cat like grin exchanged for a lob-sided one.

Had he just–? You scowled, cursing him silently. His abilities as a deamanti also deeming true.

Rhysand chuckled at your foul words, his laugh unexpectedly soft. “Such a feisty thing you are,” he commented, raking his purple eyes down your body. You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, despite the layers of leathers and weaponry you wore.

“Let me go,” you spat hoarsely, heaving against the General once more.

“You’re not in any position to make that request,” Cassian huffed, pulling back on the little distance you had gained. His voice was gruff as it hummed through your back.

You turned your head to look at the Warlord for the first time. He too, like the other males in the room, was noticeably handsome. His long hair fell into his face as he looked down at you, his eyes almost as amused as his High Lord.

Were you just a joke to them?

“Oh, sweet Y/N, you’re not a joke at all. We’re actually quiet impressed by you,” Rhysand toyed, his eyebrows raised with a mocking tone. “We know you’ve been trailing us for months, Azriel here picked up on your movements in our court a whole quarter year ago.”

You flicked your eyes to the Spymaster, his position and face unmoving at his mention. You couldn't help your scowl at the male who was responsible to securing your death.

“What we didn't expect, was for you to make it this far,” Rhysand continued with a chuckle, his head shaking in playful dismay.

Great – now on top of everything else, you were completely insulted.

“That’s why we set this trap for you. So we could finally meet.”

You frowned at Rhysand. You had been so careful, so stealthy about all your work in spying on the High Lord, slaving over maps and reports until you could no longer keep your eyes open, using the little money you had to buy off secrecy, and always covering your tracks. But it still hadn't been enough.

“Don’t look so disheartened, little mouse,” Rhysand purred, before he picked a piece of lint off his fitted black jacket. “The fact that you were able to break into my quarters alone is incredibly impressive.”

It had in fact, taken a lot of work. To sneak into Hellion’s home had taken three disenchantment spells, and compromised a suite of his guards who were yet to rise from their enchanted slumber. The locks and spells on Rhysand’s chamber were another thing in itself.

“What will you do with me?” you gritted, glaring between the males in front of you, desperate to know your fate.

Rhysand dipped his head back and laughed, his posture too calm, too casual.

“What will we do with you, hmm?” he repeated, and a shrinking instinct finding you, one that you hadn't felt since you were a child.

“Perhaps the question is, what would you like us to do with you?” It was a lovers voice, sensual and suggestive.

You couldn't help the thunder of your heart as his scent filled your nose, crudely laced with arousal as it found you with a phantom wind.

Rhysand was on you then, his face inches from your own as swirls of night filled your vision, his violet eyes the only light you could see.

You gasped at the sight before you – it was beautiful, but so, so deadly.

“I don’t like having my things taken from me, Y/N.” Rhysand growled, his voice now cold, unforgiving. Those same claws that tore your shields now traced the outskirts if your mind, talons sinking slightly in warning.

Despite the little pain, it was instinct to scream.

You tried to make quick peace at the thought of his violet eyes being the last thing you would ever see.

Open your eyes, he commanded mind to mind.

Without realising you had closed them, you found yourself unable to disobey.

Rhysand withdrew as quickly as he had pounced, his darkness disappearing with him as he slid his hands into his pockets, rocking on fine shoes. His behaviour was erratic, such a contrast to the moment before.

“Of course, it would be such a waste of good talent.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t toyed with your very consciousness just moments before.

You watched him pace, your eyes flicking to the spymaster once more, before noting the exits of the room you knew well.

“You don't stand a chance,” Azriel spoke plainly, his hand fingering one of many blades strapped to his strong frame. A warning, from one spy to another.

Rhysand grinned between you two, running a smooth hand through his black-blue hair.

Was he entertained by the idea that you were willing to give a fight?

You felt a low rumble from Cassian’s chest, all three males daring you to challenge them in their own way.

Azriel was right – it was suicide to try.

Rhysand hummed with pleasure, reading your submission as your body sagged every so slightly.

“I’ll tell you what, Y/N. I’ll make you a deal.”

A bargain, a promise, and perhaps a riddle from Prythian’s deadliest High Lord.

“I’d rather you kill me,” you said tightly.

Rhysand laughed again, and you felt the movements of Cassian’s chuckle from behind.

“Oh, sweetheart. Surely there’s a tad more fight in you than that?”

You scowled in return.

Rhysand approached you again, now holding the scroll of ancient tongue.

“What do you know of this scroll?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

You winced. “I don't know anything.”

Rhysand tutted. “Little liar,” he grinned at you, his violet eyes sparkling with challenge. “I’ll ask one more time,” he sang.

You felt them again, and it took all you had to not crumble at Cassian’s boots at the flooding pain as Rhysand dragged a singular, scraping talon across your mind and back.

“Resurrection!” you yelped – a half breath, half scream escaping you as your legs gave out. Cassian held you up, your body rigid as Rhysand’s talon pierced your mind further. The pain was blinding, eliciting a howl from you as your vision flashed with white.

Yet Rhysand’s icy threat cut through. “I have a lot of enemies, Y/N. I don't suppose you are hoping to fetch a pretty penny for anyone who might seek to bring back the rightfully dead?”

“No, n-no!” you gasped, your body spasming and contorting as he continued to toy with you. “Please, it’s for m-my family!”

Rhysand left your mind as quickly as he had entered it. You sagged in relief, Cassian gently setting you down as your crumpled to the floor, your body shaking and twitching.

You had just enough energy to raise your eyes and meet the High Lord’s stare. Gone was his expression of cruel amusement, it was now replaced with a frown of serious, deep thought.

He had seen them – your family, their smiles and laughter as your memory flashed at their mention. That meant he had also seen their deaths, their limp bodies piled for you to find in your own home.

“You wish to resurrect them?” Rhys asked softly.

All you could do was nod. You were sure you weren't noting a sense of sympathy from the male.

Rhys shook his head, his eyes closing. “If it were that easy Y/N, I’d have the missing kin to my own family here today.”

You looked up at the High Lord through heavy lids, exhaustion overcoming your body with an occasional twitch.

“I have to try,” was all you could offer, your voice small and unsure.

Rhysand stared down at you with furrowed brows, serious yet unreadable. After a few moments, he blinked, a few stars returning to his eyes as he raised them to Cassian with a quick nod.

Strong hands unfurled from your arms, and Cassian stepped back, providing you some space on the marbled tiles as you shook.

Death then, at last. May the Mother have mercy, let it be quick, you prayed silently.

A gentle pull of your hand from your face, and your fingers were forced to close around a ovoidal object.

Rhysand was crouched in front of you, his face unreadable as his cold hand kept your fingers pressed to the scroll

“I’ll tell you what Y/N. You find a way to decipher this scroll and bring back your family. And when you do, you share that information with me, so that I may do the same.”

You pulled your hand back, eyes darting between his violet ones as if you read the trick that undoubtedly hid beneath his offer.

“And why in Mother’s name would I trust you?”

He smirked humourlessly. “Unless you prefer the alternative –“ Rhysand’s eyes blackened instantly, and your heart skipped a beat at the promise of death that beheld them. “– I don’t believe you have a choice.”

Make a bargain with the High Lord, or die. Not in a thousand lifetimes could you have predicted an ultimatum so soulless.

“Do we have a deal?” Rhysand offered his large hand as he still crouched before you, his eyebrows raising with a hint of impatience.

You flicked your gaze between Azriel and Cassian. Both of them watched patiently, their stances neutral, obedient of their High Lord’s business. It bothered you – how were both of them so complicit to his evil?

Looking back at Rhysand – you ignored the voice inside you that screamed at you not to trust him.

Letting out a short breath, you lifted yourself to your knees and clasped your hand in his. “It’s a deal.”

A gasp escaped you as a stinging heat spread across the hand held in his, and etched it’s way up your forearm. With wide eyes, you watched the burn and itch of a ink-like pattern forming on your skin. Swirls now covered your once naked arm, the picture of one hand shaking another stark on the inside of your palm. It was your hand in Rhysand’s – a symbol of the bargain you had just agreed to. For eternity, or until you deciphered this scroll you realised, with no lack of nausea.

Rhysand grinned, marvelling the matching tattoo that now tainted his skin. “I’ll be checking in on your progress frequently, Y/N darling.”

Unable to find the right words for you distaste, you snatched your hand away and pressed against your stomach, willing your self not to be sick.

You were now indebted to this hellish, sinister being.

Rhysand appeared as unfazed. “Perhaps you would consider a job in my court with Azriel?” he mused, flexing his fingers as he continued to take in the impressive detail of your bargain. “Again, we were quite impressed with your work.”

He was teasing of course, and Azriel’s hazel eyes winced with humour as all three males watched for your reaction.

You scowled at Rhysand, glaring up at him again. “I prefer my freedom, actually,” you snarled.

Rhysand laughed in his sensual way, before grinning a wicked smile down at you. “Or what’s left of it.

He straightened then, his wig men moving to his sides with grace – a practiced dance for all three.

“I suggest you excuse yourself from my quarters the moment we’re gone Y/N, I’ll know otherwise.”

With a clasp to his shoulders from Azriel and Cassian, the three males were gone in a ripple of odourless night.

Until then, little spy, Rhysand’s voice echoed in your mind.

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AN: Ok new series let's gooooo!! Welcome to DWTD! Hello morally grey mosthandsomehighlordofthenightcourt 💞😈 I am so so excited to explore this series with y'all. Pleeeeease let me know what you think of part 1, I wrote this over so many months lol I hope it tied together. General tag list is tagged, but if you'd like to join a tag list for this series (DWTD), comment below! La la love you guys, hope you're all safe and doing ok 💞

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b00kdiary · 3 months

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Dreamer | Rhysand

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand begrudgingly goes to Hewn City to secure a marriage pact that will indefinitely bond the two Courts together- but the fine ladies of the Court of Nightmares are not what he wants or needs. Instead, he discovers Lady Y/N, and she has no qualms about telling him how he has failed this City and her. This is more than just coincidence, it’s fate.

Warnings: long chapters, mature content (18 +) swearing, eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"High Lord, Rhysand of the Night Court."

I reach the top of the dais as my name is announced, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor and the sound bounces through the room, through the tense silence. No one speaks, they barely breathe, as I slowly turn, my face a sheet of ice as I settle onto my throne.

I let a nonchalant smile tug at my lips, the dark mask of a tyrant slipping into place as I eye the endless room before me. A macabre and dreary setting with its ebony walls and onyx ceiling, the beasts carved into the cavernous stone a mirror to the type of Fae who lived in this City.

I emulate the darkness as I lean back, my long legs spreading apart and my fingers curling into the engraved snake form that curves around the throne, the head peering out over my shoulder, my own personal monster.

I cock my head at the dozens of males before me, Council Members, my violet eyes twinkling in amusement as they all remained bowed, knees pressed to the floor, heads lowered and waiting for my word.

"You may rise," I drawl, my tone the picture of boredom, and as Kier and his peers rise to their feet, I see the apprehension and distaste on their faces for me, for my inner circle. Kier observes me, his brown eyes flickering at the prolonged silence. "Kier?"

"As usual, it is an honour to have you here, High Lord," Kier inclines his head, scurrying forward as he speaks, his own mask of reverence slipping into place as he stops before me. "As the steward of Hewn City, I am delighted by your decision to unite our two Courts through marriage, as are the Council present here today."

I see the way my Court stiffens, Mor, Cassian and Azriel all flanked at the bottom of the dais seem to go unnaturally still, the stones in their eyes wholly- unable to hide their disapproval of this whole arrangement.

"We all have our duties, Kier, the Court must always come first," My lips tilt in a mocking smile, and Kier shrivels under the tendrils of dark power that dance around me, an omnipresent threat so at odds with my amused gaze, "My marriage to a Lady of Hewn City will be a victory for us all."

Marriage.

The word tastes like poison on my tongue, any hopes and dreams I had once harboured turning to ash in my mouth at the cold reality I was faced with. To marry a female, I didn't know or love, to mate with her and sire a child, and secure an alliance with the Court of Nightmares indefinitely.

Heavy is the head that bears the crown indeed.

"It will be an alliance venerated for generations to come, I'm sure," Kier smiles, an ugly, wretched sight and I saw Mor shiver in my peripheral, an imperceptible movement, a conditioned reaction to her father. "High Lord, may I introduce to you the fine ladies selected by the Council."

I brace myself, masking my dread with an entertained smirk, drawing on the worst parts of myself, the worst parts of this place to hide the male that roared in warning to me inside. A click of doors opening at my left, and then several soft footsteps echoing into the chamber.

I stare, unyielding and silent, as several young women stride into the room, their heads bowed and back straight, adorned with fine clothes and finer jewellery as they stop at the foot of the dais before me.

They were fine, lovely even, tall, and thin, typical of High Fae female beauty and yet, despite their soft smiles and delicate frames, I frown.

"You can't be serious, even you wouldn't be this cruel," Mor releases a horrified, tight breath and both Cassian and Azriel step forward in unison, an impenetrable wall, as Kier's eyes turn to Mor and his lip curls. "These 'fine ladies' are girls, children, how old are they?"

The room shifted at her sharp words, Kier tensing at the accusation and the males of the Council muttering amongst themselves, their eyes burning as they glared at my cousin- at her supposed insolence for speaking out of turn.

"Their age is of little significance, girl," Kier sneers, that simpering fool mask he wore melting into revulsion and anger as he took in his outcasted daughter. My fingers curled around the throne under me as he spoke, that pit of darkness inside me churning. "They have all had their first bleed-"

"Cauldron," Cassian swore, his dark hair shifting as he moved his gaze over to those girls, and I saw his throat bob at the sight- so young, broken, pawns moved and used in a game of power.

"You're disgusting," Mor hissed, and I heard the pain clawing at her throat, her face pulled into a devastated frown as she took in those girls- and it was as if she were looking into a mirror, to the girl she had once been. "These girls are not chattel; you cannot sell their innocence for your own gain-"

"These ladies are being honoured, girl, an honour that you will never understand," Kier snarled, his emphasis on honour so clear, an indirect assault on Mor's character, on the choice she made to free herself. "To marry the High Lord is a privilege, one these ladies are eager for-"

Azriel's shadows thrum around him, restless, wild, and I knew his control was wearing thin the longer Kier spoke, the longer those girls stood before us, trembling under the burden on their shoulders.

"Enough." One word, low and sinister, and every mouth in the room closed, every Fae in the room turned utterly still at the command.

I grit my teeth, letting the furious power within me radiate into the room, let it dance through the air, brush against my subjects, let them feel the warning, the threat, that I was. I smile as their faces pale, flinching back from the vile magic, a reminder that I could destroy them without even lifting a hand.

"Kier, I am going to choose to believe that this decision was made out of sheer stupidity rather than insolence," My voice is a calm storm, but my eyes- they rage with a current of violence and death, the kind that made males twice my age blanche- and they do. "I will choose to believe that you did not invite me here to waste my time- you wouldn't dare be so foolish, would you Kier?"

I shifted forward in my seat, my eyes narrowing down at the male, and it took all the restraint in me not to shatter every bone in his body, to not pluck his eyes from his head and tear his tongue from his mouth- and he sees that desire to inflict pain upon him in my gaze.

"Never, High Lord, I would not dream of-" Kier barely contains his stuttering words, a mixture of fear, indignation and humiliation lacing through his widening gaze, but like the worm he was, he bowed his head to me in remorse. "It was a grave misjudgement, one that will not be repeated again."

"Good- I desire to sire a child, Kier, not marry one," I sneer, my disgust prevalent across every hard inch of my face as I turn from Kier, moving my eyes across every last council member, "Just as I am sure you all agree, these girls have many more years left to enjoy their youth, yes?"

I make the threat clear in my words, make them clear in my eyes- touch these girls and die.

None oppose me, their hearts hammering in their chests as they nod their head in agreement, subservient and controlled- and a small kernel of satisfaction fills me, that they felt a fraction of what the girls before me did.

"Kier, join me in the Council Room," I stand from my chaise, and as if it were muscle memory, every single person in the room falls to a knee and drops their heads as I descend the stairs. "Let us discuss the consequences you'll all face should you disappoint me again."

***

"Y/N, a union between the High Lord and a Lady of Hewn City is exactly the chance we've been waiting for," Cassandra pestered, her wide eyes pleading with me, but I ignored her again, choosing to instead clean the Council Room for the next meeting with haste. "It's a chance for change."

"Who are you trying to convince, Cassie- me or yourself?" I mutter, raising a dark brow at her as I tuck in the oak chairs, shoving them into place harder than was needed. "This marriage is a farce, and you're deluding yourself by thinking otherwise."

Cassie groans, the sound reverberating through the empty room, and I try to not laugh at her as she rushes around the endless table, her sea-blue eyes rolling as she stops beside me.

"Why must you be such a pessimist?" Cassie demands, her cold, slim fingers ripping the papers from my hand and slamming them onto the table before me. "With a lady from our Court married to the High Lord, we can finally hope, we will have someone on our side- to help us, to fix this Cauldron-forsaken City-"

"And who would that be?" I scoff out a laugh, a bitter, hollow sound as I turn my hard gaze to her, strands of my loose hair brushing my hot cheeks as I move, "Thanatos's daughter despises the Court of Dreams, Kier's nieces care more about fine jewels and clothes than people, and the other daughters are afraid of their own shadows, they would shit themselves at the sight of the High Lord and his inner circle."

Cassie purses her lips at my harsh words, and I frown, sighing deeply at the look of dejection on her lovely face, hating myself for snuffing out the light that had filled her eyes. But it had to be done- some people were not meant to dream.

"I'm sorry, Cassie, I know you wish it were otherwise, I do too," I force back the lump in my throat as I turn from her, hating the way my lip trembled and my hands felt weak, "But this marriage will benefit nobody but the High Lord, his court, and the males of the Council- that's it. They have never and will never care, there is no one on our side but us."

Silence fills the room at my hoarse dead words, and the reality of them, the reality that we were truly and irrevocably stuck in this life, in this cycle of hell made my eyes burn.

"It saddens me that you feel that way, My Lady," A deep, velvety voice rasped from behind me, and the air went taut at the unfathomable power that penetrated the room.

Cassandra gasped, something spilling from her hand and dropping to the floor with a deafening crunch. My stomach twists into knots as I brace myself, all the blood leeching from my face as I turn- to where the High Lord stood, his inner circle and Kier watching on either side.

"High Lord," Cassie choked on the title, choked on her fear and before the male before us could speak, she stumbled down to a knee, her head bowed and her golden hair falling forward to shield the terror on her face.

I couldn't move, not even as the voice inside me screamed and begged for me to bow, to submit myself to him- for I had heard stories of Rhysand.

Of his abilities as a Daemati, able to shatter a person's mind without lifting a hand, of his ruthlessness as High Lord, reducing people to ash with a smile on his lovely face, of all the horrific things he had done in his five hundred years of existence.

And it seemed he saw it on my face, perhaps even saw it in my mind, the nightmares and tales, the horrors spread about him in the City, about the kind of male he was.

His violet gaze narrowed, the constellations in them beaming as he stared at me, as he cocked his head, his lips pursed into a thin line- as if observing me. I shook under the silent act, the unyielding hold he had over me, as well as the gazes of his court at his side.

"Y/N!" Cassie hissed under her breath, her head turning and her silver-lined eyes meeting mine, tears sullying the usually tranquil blue as she pleaded with me to move, to bow.

"Insolent girl," Kier spat, his gaze hard as he glared at me and the breath caught in my lungs as a dark eclipse of magic shot from him, striking against my stomach, hard enough that I lurched forward in pain and then another hit a second later, slamming into my jaw. "Bow before your High Lord."

I groaned as I fell to a knee, the impact of the bone against the polished floor striking through my whole leg and up my body, but that was nothing compared to the throb that burned through my stomach and the cut at my lip, the taste of metal filling my mouth.

I heard a gasp, a feminine sound of surprise and concern from above me as I leaned forward, my eyes pinched shut and every breath feeling like glass in my lungs as I tried to compose myself- forcing down the pain in my jaw, in my stomach, in my heart.

I heard footsteps and then the room went still, as if a blanket of ice had fallen over us.

"High Lord, she-she was being impudent-" Begging and broken words, riddled with fear and my eyes shot open at the sound of a sickening crunch, an agonised scream following it, and the aura of death filling the space.

"No, you are impudent, Kier," That voice again, but now it sounded different- the kind of mercilessness that could haunt a person's nightmares, that could be found in the darkest hollows of hell. "You do not touch her, or any other female, ever."

Another crunch and I recognise the sound now, it was bones splintering, tendons tearing, blood gushing and Kier cried out again, a horrible, strangled sound.

"Leave," The High Lord breathed the command, and I felt the floor shake under his restraint like he was funnelling his power down into the ground as an anchor. "and do not heal that hand, I want you to remember my words today, Kier."

I keep my head low, staring at the floor, unable to look up as footsteps bound away, fast and stumbling and I cringe at the sight of blood leaking against the floor, a trail following after Kier as he exits the room.

And despite the tendrils of pain still wrecking through me- I internally groaned at the thought of having to clean the blood up.

An amazed huff of air left the High Lord, it sounded almost like a laugh, but I didn't dare raise my head. Not even as he slowly sauntered over, his footsteps deliberate and slow, I didn't even look up when that trail of blood vanished, magicked away, leaving behind not even a stain in memory.

He stopped before me, and my heart thrummed so loud I knew they could all hear it.

"My Lady," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft now, like a caress of wind against my skin. I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth, my eyes fluttering as I lift my head- to see the hand he had reaching down for me. "Please, rise."

I blink at the outreached hand, heat filling my cheeks at Rhysand's tender gaze, any whisper of violence or darkness gone, replaced by something so much sweeter. I gnaw on my cheek, my hand sweating and shaking as I reach forward, gently placing my palm in his.

The second our hands connect, something charges through me, bright and sharp and strong and for a second Rhysand's eyes widen, just for a second, but then he blinks and it's gone- as if I had imagined it.

"Thank you, High Lord," I breathe and his fingers curl firmly around my palm as I wince, my knees shaking and knocking as I rise to my feet. He whispers something gently under his breath, his head glancing sideways, and I sigh when Cassandra rises too, her slender frame curling back as she stands.

I crane my neck to meet Rhysand's eyes, and upon seeing my face, seeing the cut leaking blood at my lip, his expression hardens. He still hadn't let go of my hand, his large, ringed fingers still gripping around me like a vice, calming the trembling shakes that ran through me.

"I apologise for Kier's actions," Rhysand sighed, his dark lashes fluttering as he slowly slipped his hand from mine, moving to the pocket of his jacket, his fingers pulling free the cloth there. My hand felt cold as it fell back to my side, but as Rhysand lifted the cloth between his fingers, my head hazed.

I didn't breathe, couldn't, as Rhysand gently brushed the soft cloth against the cut at my lip, soaking the material with blood and being so careful that I didn't even feel the pain stinging at the touch. I feel the surprised stare of Cassie at my side, of his family at his back, but nothing deterred Rhysand.

"I should be the one to apologise, High Lord," I stutter, finally feeling like I can breathe as he pulls his hand away, and I blink away the fog, clearing my throat as I step back, as I let the bubble, he created around us pop. "I spoke out of turn, and I should have bowed-"

"You don't need to apologise for your honesty or anything else," He shook his head, the soft waves of his blue-black hair shifting with the movement, and I forced myself to not stare at every inch of his handsome face. "I don't punish Ladies for words spoken in earnest between friends."

I nod, uncertainty and weariness shining in my gaze as I take in his intense half-smile, a smile that seems to brighten when I glance at Cassandra, looking equally as confused as me, and I shrug weakly.

"Though I will admit I am rather taken aback by your words, Lady Y/N," I shiver at the sound of my name on his silver tongue, at the way he cocked his head down at me, a purely predatory move, as he spoke. "I would like to hear more of your thoughts on the matter."

Hear my thoughts?

I go still at his easy words, at the question rather than a command, and Cassie releases a puff of air- like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to placate her aching lungs.

"What?" I croak and then wince at the insolence behind my words, a habit that I couldn't shake in front of the High Lord. I pinch my eyes shut at the way his lip quirks, and my embarrassment is worsened by the small chuckle that General Cassian huffs out. "I mean- I'm not sure that's-"

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," Rhysand purred, nonchalance highlighted in every inch of his muscled form as he tucked the cloth back into his pocket and grinned at me, like a lion before devouring a lamb. "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

***

"There is no one on our side but us."

The words were so hollow and defeated, the type of ruined that spoke of no hopes, dreams, or future, just nothing. And it was hard to explain what I felt at the words, like a sharp pain as if she had reached into my chest and torn out my heart with her bare hand.

She said that they have never and will never care- 'they' being me, my court, the people around me now and the ones left behind in my City of Starlight.

Sincere words, loaded words, spoken by a female behind closed doors, in confidence to her friend- and yet, I had overheard.

I wasn't sure what to expect when stepping into this room and wasn't sure what kind of female I would be confronted with. I had anticipated a female full of loathing and darkness, a kind of anger that would burn in her eyes, that could be seen through every breath she took, in every inch of her skin as she moved.

And yet, as I stared at the girl before me, I was met with the exact opposite.

The other lady, Cassandra, had become a shaking mess the second her blue eyes laid upon me, her breaths gasping from her as if every one would be the last. She was terrified because that was all she knew in this city; it was all she knew of me.

But Lady Y/N was different- she was frightened by me, yes, I saw it in her doe-like eyes, saw it in the memories that flashed through her mind of me, the tales of my cruelty and brutality, the blood that stained my hands and the darkness that tainted my heart.

But she didn't look away, as if she couldn't.

Here she was faced with a monster that mothers warned their children about, yet she stared at me as if she saw me- and was as beguiled by me as I was by her.

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," I smile, the tightness in my chest easing as a stain tints her plump cheeks, and her chocolate eyes widen, "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

Her friend swallows, audible and thick, as if struggling to get down air and Azriel shifts on his feet, his brow furrowed as if concerned the girl might collapse. Y/N glances at her, and amusement fills me at the small, confused shrug she gives her.

"You won't uh-" She clears her throat, her hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, and I watch every single movement as she tucks the silken strand over a perfectly arched ear, revealing the smooth column of her neck. "You won't turn me to dust, right?"

I snort, a short and amazed sound, and she gnaws on her lip, avoiding the cut there and I have to begrudgingly tear my gaze away when my court steps forward, my brothers half-smiling and Mor looking at Y/N as if she was as charmed by her as I was.

"No, no, Lady Y/N," My mask slips and slips until it's completely gone, and I'm glad that Kier left, glad that none but her saw me like this because it felt freeing, to be in this Cauldron-forsaken place and be able to genuinely smile. "No one will be turned to dust, on my honour as High Lord."

"Please do tell us," Mor steps forward, a small smile on her red-pained lips and Y/N's breath hitches at the eyes on her, at the attention. "Contrary to what you may think, we do care."

Y/N considers, and I can hear her heart hammering in her chest, fast and loud and endless, but despite that she lifts her chin and something raw runs through me at the look in her eyes- the bravery.

"I- I think that Hewn City is a cesspit, full of the worst kind of Fae and every amoral despicable thing a person could do happens here," She breathes, and her soft body trembles with the exhale, as if speaking these words aloud were exactly the catharsis she needed. "And to be honest, I blame you for that."

Surprise- it fills me and every single other person in the room.

"Y/N!" Cassandra gasps, and her eyes seem to widen further, impossibly big, latching onto me and full of pleading, "She doesn't mean that- she must be more delirious than anticipated from the-"

"Cassie, please," Y/N scoffs, a hollow and low sound, and the tension in the air goes thick as they glance at each other. "Someone needs to say it, it might as well be me."

I fold my arms across my chest, my lips pursing as they stare at each other, some internal telepathic conflict waging between them, in their eyes and despite my abilities, despite the fact, that it would be so easy for me to slip into their minds and wade through all their thoughts, I don't.

I glanced back at my Court, who stood just behind me, and their faces were contemplative too- not angry, nor offended, but shocked- here was this girl, no older than twenty, with eyes as soft as a doe's, telling us exactly how we have failed.

"Please, continue," I nod, and I hope my eyes are encouraging, because even if I do not wish to hear her words, she was right, they needed to be said and I needed to hear them.

"For centuries, the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams have been segregated and somehow we've fallen into two categories: good and bad," She swallows, and something aches in my chest at the sorrow on her lovely face, the burden, "But no one is born bad, people aren't inherently evil but growing up in a place like this? What else is there but the horrors we see and endure, what else are we destined to become?"

Another shaky inhale, a more broken exhale, and my magic burn inside me as if every desperate breath from her is like a call and my body is begging in answer.

"Your court has washed their hands of us, all of us because it was easier to believe that we were all damned than to try to help- the small minority have ruined the majority," Silver lines her hardening gaze, and I feel us all, every single one of us, go tense at the single tear that trickled down her cheek.

I hear a strangled sound come from behind me and my burning gaze glances back- to Mor, tears brimming her eyes and her lips trembling, watching the girl before us, and feeling every single atom of hurt as if it were her own.

"Morrigan was lucky enough to escape this City, these people because she had you- but do you truly think that she is the only good person born here, that in all these years, she is the only one worthy of salvation?"

More tears leak down Mor's face and Y/N's, endless, eternal, years of suffering in one single moment and I feel the guilt of my actions barrel down at me, a truth that I have spent years avoiding coming to light, like a thunderbolt to the heart.

I let my magic hold me down, let it root me in my spot- because those tears on her cheeks are tormenting me, ruining me, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and brush them away.

"So, forgive me if I have no hope left, that died in me, in all of us, long ago," Y/N clears her throat, her chest rising and falling in powerful waves and my throat is as dry as sand as she wipes the tears from her cheeks, "I- I think we could have all been dreamers- if only you had given us the chance."

In five hundred years, the mask I wore never slipped, never faltered, never was hard to wear- until right now. Right now, as my gaze locked with her, as I saw all the horrors she endured, because of my neglect, I couldn't even find that mask within me- it was gone.

There's silence, heavy and long and burdensome for what feels like hours as I stare at her, and I don't think I could look away even if I wanted to do and I don't, I don't want to.

Y/N inhales a sharp breath as I stalk towards her and the magic in me dances and whirls and strikes through the air, dark and ominous and wholly powerful. My jaw locks as she grabs out to her friend, Cassandra whimpering as Y/N yanks the girl behind her- a shield, against me.

Brave- so utterly brave. Willing to face off with a male five hundred years her senior and her High Lord, to protect her friend.

A Queen in her own right.

I stop before her, so close that I feel her breasts brush my chest, feel the small trembles that wreck through her body, can smell the lavender and jasmine on her perfect skin. She raises her eyes to me, and I see every ounce of her character, her heart and soul, as she tries to not cower before me.

"How old are you, My Lady?" I mutter, and she shivers under my easy words, her brow furrowing at the non-threat. "And what do you do here, your role?"

"Twenty-one, High Lord." She swallows, her tongue flicking out nervously to wet her lips and my hands clench at the sight, at the moisture on her pink mouth. "My father was Captain of an import chain for the City, I was given the role of Lady-in-waiting as a reward for his work."

I sense the curiosity and shock of my court behind me, the way they imperceptibly inch closer to me, to us, drawn in by my words- by the intention behind them.

"You believe the alliance is a farce, that it wouldn't change anything?" I ask, softer, and my power slips from me, curling around her curved hips and soft thighs, moving through her silken hair and over her sensitive skin- and she shakes her head, unable to speak. "What if I were to find a Lady of Hewn City who shared your sentiments, who desired for change and salvation just as you do- would that make you more inclined to hope?"

Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath, her blue eyes widening- in realisation. And I felt the air tauten, my inner circle going still, knowingly.

But Y/N cocked her head, a youthful move, not seeing what was right in front of her.

"Yes, I think that you marrying a Lady who genuinely cares for this City and its people would be a step in the right direction," She considers, and I can't fight my smile at the tender, sincere, confusion that pinches her lovely face. "Though I seriously doubt you will find any such female here."

"Hm," A lazy grin stretches across my face, bright and sure, drawing from the feeling blooming in my chest, raw and new and terrifying as I stare down at her, "I already have."

"High Lord? I don't understand-" Her words melt into a gasp as my fingers caress her cheek, moving ever so gently against that sore cut at her lip- and satisfaction fills me when her eyes flutter, a breathy sound slipping from her.

"I have already found the perfect Lady to marry," Her face burns as I run my eyes languidly down her figure, across her entire face and body- and she stills as realisation fills her, "All you have to do is say yes, Y/N darling."

________

A/N

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readychilledwine · 4 months

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Flight Patterns pt 4

Summary- After years of hushed whispers and leads, Azriel has finally found Cassian's lost sister, Aerilyn. What he found with her was unexpected, though.

Warnings- character injury, miscommunication, mutual pinning

A/N- I had originally planned on this ending at a different point, but I liked how where it ends now flows into what is going to happen in the next chapter. If you all remember my poll from earlier, you may know where this is going. You aren't getting smut, yet, but you will get some romance, and some dragon time, in the next chapter.

Series Masterlist

Aerilyn needed this to stop being the norm.

In the mornings, she would eat breakfast with her favorite trio of winged idiots, train, then find herself changed into a pretty dress and curled up in Rhysand's office while he worked.

It never took long, and it appeared today it wouldn't either. Rhys would come to the couch sitting close to her and using the glass coffee table as a desk instead of the large rich mahogany one. Sometimes it turned into him laying with her between his legs, reclined back deep into a report while she either read or slept. Sometimes soft brushes of skin would haunt her in her sleep until the next day when the cycle began again.

The relationship, if she felt bold enough to call it that, between them had started to head into a direction Aerilyn knew she didn't understand. When Rhys touched her, if felt like she was alive for the first time. Even just his hand brushing her thigh as he'd reach for the expensive wine she'd begun to associate with the smell of him had her soul dancing.

And, Aerilyn, despise all the languages she spoke, all the places she had traveled, her knowledge of beasts thought to be extinct, and her, unknown to her, powers did not understand what was happening.

She didn't understand the sudden shift in her heart rate when she'd see him in the mornings.

She didn't understand the sudden need to be around him, the desire to be close to him.

She didn't understand a thing about love.

Nor how to act on those feelings.

Rhysand was rarely accused of being a patient male. He'd heard no from his father many times, but rarely from a female. To his credit, though, he was trying.

Trying to be calm when her scent hit him.

Trying to be calm when she'd fall asleep between his legs, head resting in his chest as if his heartbeat was her personal lullaby.

Trying to be calm when they'd find their faces inches apart when they would tease each other and playfully argue.

Rhys dodged a well timed punch from Azriel. The three brothers were enjoying a mid-afternoon training session. All three of them had grown tired of reports, of being trapped inside, and were all eager to blow off steam.

They smiled at each other, a knowing look shared. “Get your head back into training, lover boy,” Azriel circled him. “Thinking about Ari a bit too much lately.”

Rhysand's eyes glanced to where she currently sat, a book in her hands that she had not been able to put down the past day or so. Her long dark hair had been fishtailed to the side with a few loose curls falling and framing her face. She was wearing one of his sweaters and black leggings, her cheeks and the tip of her nose slightly pinked from the cold.

Rhys was so distracted by his mate, by her beauty, that he hadn't noticed Azriel going for a leg sweep that caught him in his knees. He felt his back hit the ground, and then his breath leaving his lungs. Cassian's booming laugh could be heard the second he realized what had happened. Aerilyn had stood, concern flooding down the bond, as Azriel celebrated.

Rhys blinked a few times, pulling himself up and glaring as Azriel flipped him off, a rare large smile on his face.

Rhys was not a patient male, but Gods he was trying. He just wished trying didn't come at the expense of his pride.

Aerilyn closed her eyes, relaxing into Rhysand as he flew her to the dragon pit. He had started taking her once a week. Enjoying the 15 minutes he had her in his arms and her enjoying them silently as well.

He wanted to negotiate snowfall in Velaris this year with Enlil and Eirwen. He had purchased Eirwen two beautiful spools of a soft fabric with hand sewn in bead and gem work. Aerilyn had warned him Hestia may have become jealous, so the High Lord had also purchased Hestia, a large raw cut diamond. For Enlil, he had Azriel travel to Day, asking Helion for help collecting one of the sharp strange flora that bloomed there. He had put it in a pot that was enchanted to ensure it always had what it needed. “Do you think they'll give us extra snow?” He tried to hide a smile at the idea. “Just a few inches, of course. It will help with our yearly snowball fight.”

Aerilyn popped her eyes open, admiring his full-blown smile as a nervous butterfly feeling set in her stomach. “Snowball fight?”

Rhys smiled into her hair. “Every year, Cassian, Azriel, and I have a snowball fight for solstice. Azriel has won the past several years, and I'm thinking extra snow may throw him off.” He looked down at her as he landed. “Thoughts?”

She knew he already knew her thoughts and feelings on it. He was in her head constantly. On accident, on purpose, for fun. It should have annoyed her, but his occasional sass filled responses to her thoughts were a constant comfort as she continued to adapt to being around civilization.

“I do not believe additional snow is going to affect Azriel's ability to throw a snowball. It may, however, increase the amount he throws.” Rhysand's smile dropped, having not thought about that aspect, but it was too late to turn back. The noise of content growls, and chirps could be heard as Aerilyn entered the pit.

He'd never get over seeing her like this. The overwhelming sense of peace that'd wash over her when she'd place her head on Enlil snout. The way the two of them glowed with power and love.

He moved away, giving them their private greeting as he looked to Eirwen. The beautiful dragoness had herself curled into several spools of fabric his own mother would have fought for while she was alive. They were heavy cottons. soft, silky, warm, and clearly from somewhere overseas based on the deep royal purple and red hues. She opened an ice-like eye at him, huffing slightly as he opened his pocket world and pulled out those glittering fabrics. Enlil and Aerilyn had moved, his mate riding on her mounts claw instead of walking.

“You have her attention.” And Aerilyn had his. His mind went completely blank as he watched her being so carefree, so untouched by fear that she wasn't even holding on as Enlil walked with her towards the opening of the pit.

She was a goddess. Long dark hair, her skin faintly glowing.

Aerilyn shifted under his gaze, “Are you okay?”

Clearing his throat, Rhys went back to the task at hand. Snowfall, snowball fight. He kept repeating to himself over and over again. Snowfall, snowball fight. He watched as Eirwen gently put a claw out, and Aerilyn moved towards them. She laid the fabric on the claw, allowing the dragoness to look it over. “It's hand-made,” Rhys began explaining. “Each diamond and crystal is stitched one by one. It reminded us of snowfall, of you.” Rhys paused as Enlil huffed, and two dragons began to exchange looks and noises.

Rhys moved to Aerilyn as they watched the two have their discussion. “She's beautiful,” the High Lord observed. “I understand now why so many of her kind were hunting for their scales.” Aerilyn hummed. The sad noise hitting Rhysand square in his chest. “She is safe her-” he paused a brow, raising as Enlil gently put his head to Eirwen, the two drakes both shutting their eyes. “They're-”

“Mates,” Aerilyn finished. “That's why she will never have another rider. He wouldn't let a fae or human near her.” She paused head cocking To the side and eyes going white. “They will consider allowing Velaris more snowfall this year. He appreciates your efforts.”

She came back to him seconds later after a small smile. “I believe today is Achlys turn to play. Is it not?”

Rhys had already begun moving towards the large male dragon. “It is. What do they eat, by the way?”

Aerilyn just smirked, fingers mindlessly lacing into Rhysand's as he pulled her towards the glistening scales and starlit cove Achlys had made for himself. “Whatever they want.”

The table was quiet as Rhys read the report Azriel had given him over and over again.

Aerilyn had felt the flash of anger coming down the bond and was giving him the simple comfort of her hand in his. She was ignoring the occasional squeeze. The soft grip and release was almost rhythmic following his eyes as he read the same paragraph over and over.

“We can't delay it,” Azriel’s voice was soft and cold. “If the rumors are true, and they appear to be, we need to be there when she arrives.”

Cassian almost growled. “There's no damn reason for her to be going there, and going without approaching the High Lord or General of the army is an insult.”

Rhys nodded, turning to Aerilyn, “Will you be okay here, alone, for a few days?”

Aerilyn made a face, eyes wide. “Mor and Amren?”

“Will be coming with. If you would like to go to Windhaven, that is fine. I just figured-”

Cassian interrupted, voice hard and cold. “We are not taking my baby sister to Windhaven. We just saved her from those woods. We aren't dragging her back there because Amarantha can not follow court protocols.”

Aerilyn watched as Mor and Amren came in, taking their seats. Mor tossed a letter to Rhysand. It had a seal Aerilyn knew from her travels and a soft sprawling writing that indicated it was from a female. “Oh, I can already tell you know who that's from,” Mor's tone was far from the playful manner Aerilyn had grown used to. Her face showed no sign of amusement as she poured herself a heavy glass of wine. “She's up to something. She has to be.”

Amren nodded, taking the seat next to Azriel. “We should probably discuss this without certain ears here.”

Aerilyn felt the gaze shift to her. She stood, taking her wine, and left the room, allowing hushed whispers to restart. She had no clue who Amarantha was, no clue why she was here or why the Inner Circle was worried about her, but she knew one thing.

That string that connected her to Rhysand had gone cold.

Whatever Amarantha was, whatever she was here to do, is what Rhys was trying to protect her from.

And all knowing they were keeping this from Aerilyn did was cause her to feel both left out and very, very angry.

She entered her room, shutting the door softly and locking it. Walking out to the balcony, she whistled and waited.

The seal was from Hybern.

This Amarantha was heading to Illyria.

Aerilyn had spent years hiding in the Illyrian woods, unseen, untouched, unknown other than to small children who would whisper legends of a ghost haunting the trees. It would not be hard for her to find an out of place Hybern female in the Steppes.

Enlil hovered at the balcony, getting as close as he could, and Aerilyn jumped. “Home,” she patted him softly. “Take me home.”

It had taken much longer than Rhysand had hoped for the Inner Circle to reach a plan on what to do when Amarantha arrived.

The Hybern general had planned on visiting Illyria first, hoping to meet with the camp leaders alone, then coming to the Moonstone Palace and the Court of Nightmares.

No matter how loudly Cassian protested, how much anger he put into his debate, the decision had been unanimous:

Aerilyn would come to the camps and to the Palace.

They all agreed, the young female needed to know who they were dealing with, what she looked like, and be able to make her own plan of attack and safety for herself and her drakes with that information.

Rhys knocked on her door. “Aerilyn Darling, can I come in?”

Silence.

Dead silence.

He knocked again, “Ari, I know you're upset. Let me explain,” he opened the door, hoping to force her to listen.

Only the room was empty and dark.

Her scent barely lingered, meaning she hadn't been in there for a while. Panic hit him quickly when he saw the open balcony door. He took a few quick breaths, hoping she had just gone on a quick flight and would return home.

He went back downstairs, holding eye contact with Azriel, who had put on his leathers and weapons. “Aerilyn-”

“Is back in Illyria. She just got back to the cave we found her at. I've had shadows watching in case this happened. I'm going now.”

Rhys shook his head. “I'll go,” he moved to the doorway. “The plan stays the same. Be in Illyria tomorrow. Amren will stay and handle the court.”

Azriel and Cassian nodded.

“I'll take her to Mom's cabin,” the statement was directed to Cassian. “She will be safe.”

Rhys winnowed directly to the cave, finding Aerilyn sitting on the ground, her mount long gone. “Darling, why did you leave?” Her eyes went to him wide with shock as she poked the fire she had made with a stick. He motioned around the cave where shadows were dancing and very alive. “Azriel had his shadows watching in case you ran.”

She glared at the shadow that approached and touched her nose before running back to its sibling. “Tell your dad he's a fucking busy body.”

Rhys sat across from her, taking in the cave where a single thrown together bed sat. It had a single fur blanket on top of fabrics laid on the rocks for cushion and no pillow. It reminded him of a war tent. Ready to be moved and sacrificed at just the right time. “No wonder you had trouble sleeping in your bed for a week,” he continued looking around, his heart shattering as he realized the conditions his mate survived under. “What did you do for food?” He almost didn't want to know the answer, avoiding her eye as she sighed and stretched.

“Stole from the Camps in the dead of night or hunt and gather,” her voice was distant. “Did someone follow you?”

Rhys rose a brow, looking towards where Aerilyn was. “No, darling. I came alone.”

She shook her head, eyes staying locked on the entrance before grabbing a throwing knife that was next to her. “No, dearest, you didn't.” Aerilyn moved, blocking Rhys as the snap of a bow was heard.

She flinched as she was hit, blinking slowly to process what was happening. An arrow had embedded itself into her right shoulder, and Rhys instantly reached for her, winnowing her to his mother's cabin right as another hit her in the leg.

Aerilyn felt like her skin was on fire, ash and faebane beginning to seep into her bloodstream as she laid panting. Wherever Rhys had taken her was warm and felt safe. She used the last of her magic to push that down the bond to Enlil, begging him to remain in the dragon pit.

Rhys scrambled, calling for Azriel and Cassian as he gathered supplies to heal his mate. He could feel her drift off in the bond, her body falling into a deep state of sleep as he began removing the arrows. To his shock, they weren't Illyrian. He shook the gut feeling, pushing it down as far as he could while he held a cloth to the bleeding wound.

Azriel appeared with Cassian seconds later. “What the fuck happened?”

Rhys shook his head. Focusing on his mate. “I was followed. She figured it out before I did somehow. She blocked me.” The last part had Rhys knitting his brow, confusion setting down deep as he pulled the second arrow out, trying to instantly erase the sounds of her pain from his mind.

Azriel took the arrow, looking it over. “I'll go look into it.”

Cassian kneeled down next to his sister, stroking her sweat soaked hair back. “I'm coming with you.” He took a heavy breath, eyes locked on Aerilyn's unconscious form. “You better ask your questions quickly when we find them, Az. Because I'm going to kill them.”

Rhys didn't even respond. Aerilyn's shields had dropped completely. She was unknowingly sending everything down the bond to him. Her confusion, her fear, her pain. All of it began to lace together with her thoughts.

Thoughts that soon were turning into a dream.

A dream that had Rhysand promising to himself he would make it come true.

He would just have to bring himself to be the one to break their current never-ending cycle of tension, and Rhys never had an issue being the one to make the first move.

Taglist : @kemillyfreitas @jesssicaparlon @elijahssuit @biancabldss @hellwantfuckme @justdreamstars @sidthedollface2 @mis-lil-red @lovemesomevesey @coisas-da-dani

(Currently working on the few struck out usernames. I have you on my list, but for some reason tumblr won't let me tag you)

#acotar #acotar x oc #rhysand x oc #rhys fic #rhysand fic #rhys x oc #flightpatterns #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar

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divinemare · 9 months

Text

Rhysand’s Masterlist

Multiparts

✶ legend of a mortal love

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

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#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand #rhys #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x oc #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhys x you #rhys x reader #rhys x oc #high lord of the night court #high lord rhysand

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tropicalgothships · 2 months

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@c0smicsalt wrote this for me a few days ago and he did an amazing job.

This time of the year is extremely difficult for me to deal with because so many traumatic experiences happened within a few weeks of each other. Yes this does include the stuff that’s still happening today.

So this was something very relevant and I cried reading, so have a look at this and have a good cry lol (I can’t seem to tag your self ship blog pal, so your main one was tagged instead.)

RBS Ok but:

#ceo of my heart 🧡#otp: call me home #self ship gift #rhys x oc #Rhys strongfork x self insert #borderlands self ship #self insert x canon #self insert x rhys strongfork

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starstruckunknown-princess · 1 year

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Black Rose

Summary: The fateful night in the Spring Court as told by Tamlin’s younger sister, Niamh.

Pairing: Rhysand x OC (Niamh, pronounced ‘Neev,’ no physical descriptions)

Warnings: Slap, discussion of murder, implications of sex

Notes: Hey y’all! This is my first time posting for the ACOTAR-verse. Let me know what you think! Reblogs/notes/likes are much appreciated!

Part 2

Two pairs of wings, one pair smaller than the other, both ink black and unmistakably Illyrian, hung over the mantle in her father’s study.

Niamh couldn’t breathe, her mouth gaping in horror at the sight. A spring thunderstorm raged outside, rain pelting the tall windows and thunder rumbling. Lightning flashed, casting perfect shadows of the wings on the wall behind them.

“Do you see,” her father’s voice hissed from behind her and she whirled around to face him. He sat in one of the plush chairs, swirling a glass of blood-dark wine, Tamlin stood behind the chair, his eyes downcast in shame. “Do you see what the Night Court gets for humiliating us?”

“Hu-wha…Father, what have you done?” she choked out, mouth dry as a desert. He’d had Tamlin wake her from slumber and bring her to the study, now she knew why. To stare in sickening awe at the wings of her ex-future in-laws.

“They were supposed to be that bastard Rhysand’s wings,” her father explained as if he were simply talking about the weather, not the murder of two innocents, “but I thought this would send a better message.”

Niamh gulped; she knew she didn’t want the answer to the question, “What message is that?”

“That the Spring Court is powerful. That the Spring Court has sharp teeth and jaws that snap and that no one defiles the princess of the Spring Court and gets away with it.” Her father’s emerald gaze burned her like acid. He rose to his feet and prowled toward her, towering over her like a great redwood. Niamh couldn’t help but tremble slightly; her father’s wrath was usually reserved for her older brothers. She had rarely seen it before tonight, which made his quiet, simmering rage all the more terrifying. “Do not lie to me, girl. You’ve made yourself worthless to me, especially since the Lord of Night changed his mind on your betrothal. How am I going to marry you off now?”

Niamh’s gaze landed on Tamlin — he was the only one she’d told, the only one she felt she could confide in about her relationship with his friend. They were friends, how could Tamlin have betrayed both his sister and his best friend in one fell swoop?

“W-we were…we were betrothed,” Niamh offered weakly.

The sting of the slap bloomed and the room tilted in her vision before the sound hit her ears. She toppled over, barely catching herself in time to not hit the edge of the hearth. Her eyes began to water while her cheek burned. She felt a trickle of blood run down her cheek, racing the tears down to her chin. Tamlin was by her side in a moment, steadying her until she shook him off.

Her father’s voice was steady and deep, like the roar of magma underground. “You will remain confined to your room until your mother and I decide what to do with our whore of a daughter.”

With that he winnowed away, leaving his two youngest children to stare at the wings above the mantelpiece.

“Niamh, I-”

“How could you?” she demanded, interrupting her brother, “How could you tell him?”

“I didn’t know it would-” Tamlin tried to reach out to her, his own hands shaking slightly, but Niamh threw him off. She rose to her feet and shoved at her brother’s chest.

“But you did, Tamlin, you did know! You knew because I told you in confidence, because I begged you not to say anything!”

“You also know what Father is like,” Tamlin defended. “He was angry about the betrothal being called off, of the humiliation that brought on our court. He’s been waiting for a chance at a power play against the Night Court, and I hoped if he knew about you and Rhys he would have the upper hand that he wanted. I thought that meant forcing along the marriage or an alliance, not this!”

Niamh scoffed, unstoppable tears falling down her face. “Your pathetic desperation to gain Father’s approval got two innocent females killed, Tamlin! Are you proud of yourself?” Tamlin opened his mouth but Niamh held up a hand to stop him, “I don’t care. I won’t hear any more bullshit justifications. Besides, I should be getting to my room; wouldn’t want Father to be angry with me.”

She made sure to ram into Tamlin’s shoulder on her way past him, even though she knew that due to her smaller stature it wouldn’t affect him much, if at all. Still, getting the last word was a small vindication that helped tamp down the rising tide of guilt.

When she reached her room, she used her ability and grew a thick bramble of black roses over the door. She made sure to wrap the handle in particularly thorny stems so that anyone trying to enter would think twice about it.

Alone with her thoughts, she moved toward her window and sat on the sill. The rose garden went on for acres upon acres and was so peaceful at night. She wished she could wrap herself in that peace because she knew she’d gotten all the sleep she would that night. Every time she shut her eyes, she saw the wings and her chest clenched painfully.

Rhys’s mother and sister had been nothing but welcoming during Niamh’s betrothal tour of the Night Court, introducing her to the various leaders of Illyrian camps and making sure she was comfortable. His mother had offered tea and biscuits and warmer gloves and very much behaved like Niamh’s own mother, doting on her during her entire stay. His sister joked and gossiped with her, along with their cousin Morrigan, and the three young females had formed what Niamh had thought to be the beginnings of friendship.

Her heart ached at the memories. Her heart ached when she thought of how Rhys was feeling, what he must be going through. She wished she could see him, even though he most likely hated her now. Her heart ached for that, too.

Soon after she sat down it felt as though her ears filled with cotton. Not that she minded; it was easier for her to zone out. An hour or so later, the feeling had disappeared just in time for her to hear a knock at the door.

“Go away, Tamlin,” she said, not bothering to look over her shoulder until she heard the splintering of wood and a crash. She jumped up, assuming a defensive stance.

Light from the hallway framed a distinctively Illyrian set of wings, as ink-black as the ones in the study, though still attached to a tall male form. The ruins of her door lay between them, and the tension in the male’s posture screamed fight.

He took two long-legged steps into her room and she gasped at the sight of him, illuminated in the moonlight from her window. His blue-black hair was disheveled, pupils in his violet eyes were near pinpricks, and his golden skin was paler than the last time she’d seen him. Something had changed about him, but it wasn’t until the sweet-scented tang of magic hit her nostrils could she tell what it was.

“High Lord,” she whispered, a hand coming to cover her mouth. He reeked of the blood that stained his black clothes — the blood of her oldest brothers, her father — but also of power, heady and intense. She couldn’t help but fall to her knees and avert her gaze.

His footsteps approached, slowly working his way toward her. Niamh remained still, expecting a killing blow and a quick death. Instead, Rhysand reached down and gently guided her chin upward so she could look at him.

“Did you hear anything?” he asked, voice low and surprisingly gentle. She saw his pupils return to normal size as he regarded her with concern, sweeping over her form while she still knelt in front of him.

“No,” she answered breathlessly. “Rhys, I’m-”

“Don’t. It’s all over now. Tamlin and I are High Lords.”

Tears sprung into her eyes for the second time that night. If Tamlin and Rhys were High Lords, that meant both of their fathers were dead. Two families almost completely annihilated within the course of a day.

“Just make it quick, Rhys, I know I don’t deserve it but please,” she whispered, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall. Again, her expectation of brutality was met with the gentle touch of his fingers. This time, the pads of his thumbs wiped away her tears.

“Sweetrose,” he said, crouching down so they were closer, “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to take you with me.”

She searched for words; none came. Too many questions buzzed through her head, like bees in a hive. Try as she might, she couldn’t catch one long enough for it to form a coherent thought.

Rhys half-smiled, and she felt his presence in her mind. The bees calmed. He was good at that. One by one, he answered her questions.

Yes, I’m sure I want you in the Night Court.

No, not just because you’re Tamlin’s sister.

Because I love you. I want you.

I wanted to marry you. Still do.

It’s not your fault.

None of this is your fault.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Once her mind calmed, he slid out of it as smoothly as he entered.

“Come with me, Sweetrose,” he asked, rising to his full height and extending his hand down to her. He was offering her a choice, something she wouldn’t have if she stayed here with Tamlin as High Lord. She knew in her heart of hearts that her brother loved her, but he wouldn’t hesitate to marry her off for his own benefit. If she stayed, she would never have true freedom.

She reached up and took Rhys’s hand.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand fic #tamlin #rhys x reader #rhys x oc #rhysand x oc #acotar fic #acotar #acowar fic #acowar #acomaf #acomaf fic #spring court princess #spring court

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sserrafeim · 6 months

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Ok so I need your help with something because I’m super indecisive: I’m writing a Rhysand x OC fic and I can’t choose the name so please help a girl out

I like long titles, can you tell?

Also, all of these fit the theme of the story

#acotar #acotar series #rhysand #rhysand x oc #rhys x oc #rhysand x reader

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rhysiespeeces · 2 years

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venus is overprotective of rhys for many reasons, he’s just one of those types of people.

he also just doesn’t like zer0

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #borderlands oc #oc #original character #oc x canon #rhys x oc #venus #venus strongfork #rhys strongfork #zer0 #zer0 the assassin #commissions open #mine

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demons-mind · 1 year

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Sarah’s Remade Bio

Name: Sarah Lilly Dalton

Nicknames: Rhys-Rare flower, love, and Fire Flower. Ava- big sis or Sis. Asch- the whore of the group. Noi- Mommy (One time on accident)

Species: Human

Magic: none

Wife of Rhys

Likes: 18+ shit, Rhys, Ava, her Brother Sam, Ava’s Dads, singing, protecting her friend, doing her own thing, touching Rhys horns, messing with Asch, ice cream, and any type of good book

Dislikes: Her father, her Ex-husband, Rachel, and people “fucking” with her friends and/or family

Fun Facts

Her and Ava know each other when they were both in diapers until middle school

She is a really kinky person (no, NSFW art on here)

She calls Rhys, her "Sunrise!!!" (And yes It's a pun! 😋)

Kinda is seen as more of a motherly person by the others, but more of the fun parent

she was married and then divorced

she’s know exactly what touching the horns means and loves abusing the hell out of it (only on Rhys)

She grow up in a household with strong old believe, Thanks to her Father, she also hates her father’s “believes”

Thinks of Andrew and Devin as her second parents

when her and Rhys go on dates they would somehow always end up at a ice cream place, every time

When Noi called her mom he actually sees her as a mother, and she was actually really flatted (it pisses off Rhys and Lorelai)

She and Asch have an unspoken rivalry when they first meet

Is considered the most beautiful woman amongst the five other girls

Her Ex-Husbend, miss treated her with his words and cheated on her with another woman

#sketch #fanfic #my inner demons #aphmau #aphmau my inner demons #my inner demons oc #oc bio #sarah mid #sarah #sarah my inner demons #oc x canon #canon x oc #sarah x rhys #rhys x sarah #rhys x oc #oc x rhys

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mischiefmanagers · 1 month

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I’m in such a Rhys mood and I would love if you made a fic rec library for him if you could?

hiiii!! yes, of course! I'm so sorry this took a while but it's HEREEEE! hope you enjoy! ✨

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rambunctioustoons · 4 months

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little closer than normal.

half re-draw, half doodling out scenes!

#daycare attendant fnaf #daycare attendant moon #moon fnaf #moon x oc #moondrop x oc #moon x y/n #moondrop x y/n #masc y/n #rhys #my art #dont even worry. hes not going to throw you into the trash compactor. definitely not going to throw you in the trash compactor!!!#like to go with these two didn't really interact until they did.#skittering to the shadows until suddenly he just wasnt #Cat behavior. wants to interact with the person entirely avoiding him. asfjakd. do you see the vision #doombop!#doombop! fic

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prythianpages · 7 months

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A Court of Shadows & Moonlight

A Court of Shadows & Moonlight | azriel x rhy's sister (OC)

Summary: Daughter of the Night Court's High Lord. Half Illyrian. Half High Fae. Rhysand's little sister. A Dreamer. Only few know her as Valeria and only one knows her truth. She is the moon, a lonely girl cratered by imperfections, and he is her night, the one who helps her shine bright.

-a story in which Azriel and Valeria are mates-

A/N: I am going through ACOTAR withdrawals after finishing ACOSF. Rhysand's sister is a character I think of a lot and I love Azriel so when I saw a theory/imagine of her and Azriel being mates, I couldn't help myself. This was originally just meant to be a collection of imagines but I decided to expand further on the love story between Val and Az. Below you can find “Val’s Early Life,” which consists of stories about her upbringing and early adulthood. It’s not necessary to read them to follow the story but it is a nice backstory and provides context as there is already somewhat of an established relationship between Val and Az. I made another masterlist for the actual story, which you can find below.

I made a playlist for this and you can find it here, if interested.

angst= ♥️ fluff = ☁︎ smut= ☪︎

*the ones that have no symbol are neutral or have subtle hints of angst/fluff and are put at the top of the imagine.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊Val's Early Life˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-> The Night she was born

-> The Night her powers came

-> The Night she met Cassian

-> The Night she met the shadowsinger ☁︎

-> The Night Azriel took his first flight ☁︎

-> The Night she made her first friend ☁︎

-> The Night she caught Cassian

-> The Night of their first solstice in Velaris ☁︎

-> The Night she asked about Love

-> The Night Azriel found out her secret ♥️

-> The Night she gets her heartbroken ♥️

-> The Night she met Noctis ☁︎

-> The Night of her 18th Birthday ♥️

-> The Night they join the Bloodrite ♥️

-> The Night they return from the Bloodrite ♥️

-> The Night she left Windhaven ♥️

-> The Night she made Azriel dance

-> The Night she made Azriel lose control ☪︎

-> The Night she played the violin for her father ♥️

-> The Night they all went to Rita’s ☪︎

-> The Night Mor was hurt ♥️

-> The Night the High Lord found out her secret ♥️

->The Night Azriel helped her heal ☁︎ ♥️

-> The Night she decided to join the Bloodrite

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊Val's & Az's story˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #rhysand #rhys acotar #ACOSM Masterlist #acotar x oc

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readychilledwine · 5 months

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Flight Patterns - pt 3

Summary - After years of hushed whispers and leads, Azriel has finally found Cassian's lost sister, Aerilyn. What he found with her was unexpected, though.

Warnings - none in my mind

A/N - answering a question a few people had in this one while also sending a warning. 👀

Word count - *polished nails* 4,254

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

3 weeks later-

Aerilyn was biting her tongue as Rhys showed her the sentences he wanted her to work on pronouncing. He looked so satisfied and smug, handing her the parchment that simply stated,

"Rhysand is the most intelligent High Lord."

"Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord."

"Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord."

The dam that was her patience with holding this uneducated act up was breaking. She had spent the past 3 weeks training with them, eating with them, and being forced to endure this. Complimenting the beautiful, cruel, kind, everything male in front of her while he did paperwork. She had noted during these quiet moments between them, each affirmation she gave him caused tension to leave his brow, his shoulders to relax. She was, in his mind, an unknowing voice setting aside each deep set fear he had.

And Aerilyn was tired of that. No matter how much she agreed with each sentence proclaiming his delightful nature deep down in her soul.

She leaned back into her chair, clicking her tongue and caved. "You are quite full of yourself, aren't you?" Rhysand paused, looking up at her from his reports with wide eyes. "Do not get me wrong, you are exquisite and the Mother definitely took her time carving you out of whatever fine marble she found, but have you looked at Helion?"

His jaw dropped before he school his reaction and sat back. "So you can speak."

"Clearly," she answered dryly.

"How long did you plan on playing this little game of yours, Aerilyn?" He leaned his forearms on the table in front of him. "How long did you plan on being a pretty little liar?"

She leaned forward, facing his challenge and staring at him to eye level. "Until you three were dumb enough to leave me alone and we could get out, but that's clearly pointless when you are the most intelligent high lord, isn’t it?" She sensed something from him, pouring into that string that connected them. She could not tell if it was pride, arousal, or a combination of both, but it made her lip curl in what she lied to herself as being annoyance.

He purred to her, "You are a smart little thing, aren't you, darling?"

Aerilyn growled in response. "Do not condescend me."

Rhys kept a straight face to hide the absolute lust and need he was feeling. "I am not condescending you, darling. I genuinely mean that. You are both little and intelligent."

Rhys moved closer to her, caging her between the sidearm of the couch and himself. “Won't dear Azriel be oh so surprised the female he's been making notes for me on can speak? Or your brother, Cassian, oh so thrilled he can actually communicate with you, tell you every damned word that's been eating him alive for over a month now?”

She looked away, guilt showing in her eyes as the floor. “Or your mate,” he spoke softer this time, gently forcing her to look at him. “Who wanted nothing more than to get to know you, to learn how to care for you, to learn how you'd like to be loved? how do you think this secret of yours makes him feel?”

Aerilyn didn't understand the weight of his words. Nor what a mate was. He used terms of endearment for her frequently she never understood. “My mate,” “my stars,” “mine,” or constantly calling her “Aerilyn Darling,” as if he was taking some weird ownership of her.

And deep down it had started to set a soft warmth in her heart. “I do not know what this mate term you use means, but you'll have to forgive a female for thinking of survival, not of the comfort of 3 males.”

His face fell then, eyes losing all sparkle as if someone had turned off the night sky. Aerilyn felt sick inside at the sight of it. “You do not know what mates are?” she nodded in confirmation and watched as he moved away from her, shaking off the disappointment radiating from him before moving forward. “Would you like to tell them? Or shall I?”

Aerilyn swallowed, her mind racing. “I will.”

“Good answer.” He stood, leaving her alone in the library.

Aerilyn took the report he had left, curling into the arm of the couch and running through it. He eyes moved the the stack he had left then, noting how each was just messily thrown into the pile. She began sorting them then. Reports from the Camps and Steepes in one time, reports from Azriel in another, reports from Cassian in one. She had them by date, urgency, context. It wasn't much, but it was a small apology as a shadow came and rested on her shoulder announcing it's master's approach.

Azriel stares at the sorted reports, a brow going up. “Did you do this for him?”

Aerilyn closed her eyes. He was expecting a nod and got this instead. “I did. He's ridiculously unorganized.”

Azriel took the chair across from her, a small smirk playing on his face. “You just won me a lot of money.”

Aerilyn looked at him, her brows knitted together. There was not a ounce of anger in the male, nor sign of hurt. Just a small playful smile. “You aren't mad?”

He shook his head. “We all knew. Rhys has been purposely picking large eloquent words since you accidently called Cassian a vacuous prideful jerk for body slamming you when you were beating him hand to hand. The three of us had bets on when you'd drop the act.”

He paused a shadow whispering something to him before continuing. “You held up the feral gremlin act well, though. Destroying the kitchen was my personal favorite scene. We are still finding sugar in places it should not be.”

He leaned forward, eyes on you. “Now little sister,” a line drawn in the sand softly, “can you tell me when your mate is beating training dummies so-” he trailed off watching your face before leaning back with his answer. “You don't know what mates are, do you? Your face says the things your mouth won't. It was part of how I've figured out the act.”

She made another slightly insulted face, one that made Azriel chuckle, a rare full smile appearing. “Cassian does the same thing, sweetness. Don't worry. Now the topic at hand, the mating bond is a sacred thing. It's rare and typically only given to the most powerful of fae. It's supposed to bring you to your other half, your equal, your one true fae. It allows you to feel each other, to know each other on a deeper level, and to communicate without words.”

He had a dreamy far off look as he glanced out the window at the stars. “I've wished for one every year at Starfall, solstice, and with every birthday candle.”

“That's a lot of candles,” Aerilyn interrupted before shooting her hand to her mouth. Azriel's brows rose up to his hairline, “Cauldron, you and Cassian even have the same sense of humor. Fuck me,” he chuckled again, the noise ringing like a soft bell in her ears. “Anyways, mating bonds are created by the Mother and Cauldron to ensure strong off spring, but Rhys, Cassian, and I always wanted more for our mates. We want to love them, fully and completely. We want them to truly be our equals, hence him having you sit with him while he does his high lord work. We want them to know we support them and want them to feel they matter. That they are more than prized mares to be bred, also hence me keeping track of things that make you happy, sad, foods you enjoy.”

Azriel took her hand. “Rhys wants you to feel warm, welcome, wanted, and loved here, and you are sweetness. I need to go before he breaks his knuckles. Dinner will be in 30 minutes.”

Aerilyn went to her room, sitting on her bed as she processed the information Azriel had handed her on a silver platter. She played with that string softly, wrapping it around her finger once, then twice. She knew it would not be hard to love him, nor to be loved by him. Rhys had shown her nothing but kindness since the incident with Enlil. He had even offered to fly her to them tomorrow, an offer she hoped still stood after feeling his broken spirits cloud her mind and soul.

Rhys sat still on the training grounds, Cassian and Azriel next to him. He could feel each slight twitch, stroke, and caress of the bond, causing his heart ache to set into dread more and more. “She knows about the tether,” he said softly. “Which means she unknowingly has been pulling it since she didn't know what it was.”

Cassian ran a hand up and down his brother's back. “She wasn't raised with mom like we were, Rhys. She was left to survive alone, to educate herself among who knows what level or type of fae, and kept away from society. Her knowing about the bond and how they work would have been surprising.” They both watched as Azriel rocked on his feet and made a straight lined face. “Azriel, you didn't.”

“She was confused,” he justified. “I couldn't leave her like that. Just sitting there, confused and hurt, sorting through your mountain of reports.”

Rhys almost comically perked up, his eyes reignited with the affection he already held for his mate. “She sorted my reports?”

Aerilyn was silent at dinner, pushing her potatoes around the plate while the three males spoke. Cassian was the last to find out she could speak to and understand them. He had not been mad, he was thrilled in all honesty. Picking her up and spinning her as he cried tears of joy. Aerilyn rested her head on his shoulder, smiling as he kissed her forehead. “Not hungry, sis?”

She shrugged softly, “Tired. And I hate potatoes. It was the one thing I could steal from camps that they didn't notice so we ate just potatoes for months once.”

Cassian felt his stomach dropping. He knew that feeling all too well. The wondering when your next meal would could. The pain from portioning servings meant to be one meal into multiple. It killed him inside knowing his sister had gone through that just outside of their reach.

He reached over, grabbing another piece of grilled chicken and setting it on her plate. Rhys pushed him the mixed steamed vegetables, She wants these. He took her potatoes, scapping them onto his own plate before loading the steamed broccoli, carrots, and cauliflower onto her plate. She'd also like to try wine, but is scared.

So give her a little wine, Cassian suggested back. Show her you've noticed.

Rhys studied his mate, noting her typical food choices and likes as he made a choice. He stood, going to the bar where several open bottles sat away from the brothers, preventing them from drinking heavily and getting too drunk when they were set to visit drakes the next day.

His hand lingered on the Day Court white, giving her less than half a pour, and walking it to her. “I think you will like this one. If you don't, it's Azriel's favorite.”

Azriel looked longingly at the bottle. “You could just bring it here.”

“We promised her an early morning flight to her bond,” Rhys sat cooly, watching as she sniffed the wine. “We need to be on our toes and clear minded for that.”

Aerilyn paused. “We're still going?”

“Of course, darling, I made you a promise.”

Aerilyn was to her feet immediately, going over to Rhys and tilting his head slightly to kiss a stumbled cheek. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my darling. Now eat. I know you want the broccoli.”

Rhys shot awake in the middle of the night, panic that wasn't his own flooding him. It had become a constant now that she was here, now that after years of searching and unanswered prayers to the Mother he had found her. Rhys stood up pulling on a pair of sweatpants before walking to her room.

Azriel telling her about what the bond did had benefits, and this was one. He didn't have to continue ignoring her fear, her nightmares, her wakeless dreams. He entered her room to find her still asleep, tossing and turning and sat on her bed beside her, entering her mind to calm her. His hand moved through her tangled hair, gently pulling each catch apart before he caved, laying beside her and holding her as she fell into a deeper sleep. She turned in his arms, head burying itself into his chest as he continued to play with her hair.

He might regret it in the morning, but Rhys fell asleep there, in her room, holding her safely in his arms.

Aerilyn ran a hand along her sheets, eyes still closed as she reached for a body that wasn't there. She sat up, disappointment settling in like a cold ache. He was there, she knew he was there. His scent still lingered to the soft fabrics, to her skin.

She shoved that feeling down. Ignoring it like she had all other draws to him.

The draw to be near him.

The need to be held by him.

The need to please him.

Aerilyn wasn't a stranger to love, nor courtship. She had grown up among married pairs, always the odd ball out. She had watched illyrian males woo and sweet talk females into their beds as she sat in the woods.

But nothing ever seemed like this. Nothing she had witnessed was this. This weird fated and decided thing she had no control over.

This weird fated and decided thing eventually only handed to powerful and special fae.

There was nothing special about Aerilyn. That was something she knew from staring at herself in the mirror and strapping on the black illyrian leathers. She wasn't a great beauty like Mor, wasn't intelligent like Cassian, wasn't useful like Azriel, nor did she have some hidden beast buried below her skin like Amren.

Aerilyn believed she just was. Without dragons she'd just be a wingless Illyrian female. She had no powers, no influence, no stunning looks to brag about. How could she be worthy or equal to him?

A knock ripped her from her thoughts, Cassian entering the room and walking behind her to help her finish getting everything on. “Good morning,” he kissed her head gingerly. “How are you this morning?” He already knew. Rhys had sent him in to stop her from the mental spiral she was about to enter. He stared at her through the mirror, admiring every little thing she couldn't see about herself.

Those bright hazel eyes shining like molten honey over the most expensive cuts of emeralds. Those high sharp cheekbones, rosy and glowing more than they had when they had found her hungry and thin in those woods. Her sun-kissed clear skin. Her small nose. Her full lips.

Cassian's absolute favorite feature on his sister was her long dark hair, falling down her back like a waterfall of curls.

She had not answered him, forcing him to hold her jaw in his hands and look at him. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” He didn't let her see his heart shatter as she looked down. “Aerilyn, surely you see how beautiful you are?” it was impossible to ignore her fingers beginning to tap on her thighs, pounding a soft rhythm into that muscled flesh as they stared at each other in the mirror.

Cassian was handsome, Aerilyn could admit that. Her brother was rugged, scarred, and his body was solid muscle carved from stone. He'd brought many females home in the month she'd been here, and she wasn't dumb enough to not see why. He was charming, handsome, smart, funny, important.

She looked at them both again. “I suppose if you're slightly attractive, I am too?”

Cassian's head fell into her shoulder, his own shaking in laughter. “Slightly attractive? Only slightly. I think you're stunning. Exactly like Mother. And you think I'm okay looking?”

Aerilyn smiled up at him. “Can't stroke your ego.” Cassian smiled in her hair again, puffs of air coming out as he chuckled. “Are we eating breakfast?”

“I never do anything without breakfast.” Cassian laced their fingers together, pulling her into the hallway and down the stairs.

Azriel was at the table, head in his hands, coffee at his side. Rhys patted his shoulder. “Told you not to drink it all, Brother.” Azriel grunted at him in return. “I know. Days off.” He grunted again making Rhys and Cassian laugh.

It was like an unspoken language between the 3 of them, and it made Aerilyn smile. Aerilyn scratched Azriel's head, taking the spot between him and the High lord. “You don't have to come,” her offer was in a soothing tone. “I don't want to burden you on your time off.”

Comfortable silence fell between the 4 of them. “You could never burden any of us,” Rhys answered plainly. “But she is correct, Azriel. You can stay home. Get some well deserved rest.” He shook his head back to grunting as he rested his forehead on the table. “He'll nap while you eat, Ari.”

Cassian passed her the plate of something she had never seen, watching as he head tilted. “Pancakes. Kind of sweet. Kind of not.”

“Oooooor muffin?” Aerilyn batted her eyelashes unsure of the new food being put in front of her. “We know I like muffin.”

Azriel lifted his head. “I didn't not slave away on fucking pancakes for you to ignore them like they're chopped liver.”

“Yes,” Cassian said plainly. “I'm sure those 30 extra minutes were detrimental to your sleep pattern.”

“Oh fuck you.” Azriel slapped a pancake on her plate. “Eat it or you run laps all day.”

Aerilyn cuddled up to Rhysand tightly as they flew. Her nails almost digging painfully into his biceps and shoulders. “You would think this would not bother you so much considering you fly on dragon back.” Aerilyn tried to relax, she truly did. But she ended up holding him tighter as the wind switched.

“It's different,” she squeaked out. “So very different.” He just hummed in response, allowing her to hold him as tight as she needed.

Rhysand looked down, slightly saddened by the view she was missing. “I suppose the views from them are also different. Having to be so far away and unable to admire anything.” She refused to move, barely attempting to peek before tucking herself back into his neck. “I will never drop you, darling.”

“Not the worry,” she answered hastily. “Look up.” A great shadow passed over them, covering the area between himself and Ari as well as the several feet ahead of them where Cassian and Azriel flew.

This dragon was larger than the other 3 they had seen so far. Almost swallowing the sun in black and darkness.

Azriel and Cassian had stopped their race, hovering in amazement as the beast headed to the entrance and shook the mountain with the force of the landing. “That is one big fucker.” Cassian blinked as the words left his mouth, astonishment settling in. “Who flew him?”

“Her,” Aerilyn corrected softly. “That's a female, and it doesn't matter who flew her. She'll never take another rider.” The males went back into motion, the powerful beating of their wings distracting Aerilyn until they landed and she was gently set down.

Eirwen had waited, her white scales glimmering like fresh fallen snow as she lowered her head for a pat. “Hello love,” Ari kissed her snoot gently. “Can we come in?”

The drake seemed to huff, releasing a chattering like noise as she led them into the pit. She moved to the area she had clearly claimed, setting down her newest treasure into her hoard. Azriel chuckled slightly as he took the pile in. The white beast began to rearrange the fabric, placing it into the pile of silks, furs, and cloth. She seemed to almost tuck herself in before making it snow above her and releasing a happy sigh. “That is Eirwen,” Aerilyn said softly. “She is an ice drake. She hoards fabric for blankets.”

“Winter,” Azriel muttered softly to Rhysand.

Cassian covered his mouth before moving in further and slowly. His eyes ended up locking on the blue dragon. It's scales almost dancing as they reflected the light. “Thalassa,” Aerilyn moved to the dragon, kissing her nose as well. “Hoards shells and parts of ships. Has control over water and oceanic creatures.”

“Summer,” the spymaster muttered again.

Cassian pointed to Hestia who purred at him. “She is wondering if you brought her a gift.” Ari patted the red dragon's snoot. “She can detect a lovely collection near by but won't go pillage your home for it.”

Cassian burst out laughing. “She's probably detecting Amren. The two of them should trade notes sometime.” Hestia seemed to tilt her head as if she understood him.

Enlil growled softly. Annoyed his bond had not came to him yet and Aerilyn immediately moved as Azriel muttered “Autumn.” Enlil was surrounded by lively floral and plants in pots. His eyes closed as Aerilyn held him, glowing as they made contact. “Enlil hoards plants,” she said happily. “Herbs, tropical things, flowers. If he thinks it's pretty, he takes it.” Rhys couldn't help but to break a smile, hearing the male dragon's whines and chirps of content as his Aerilyn loved him. “I have to finish introducing everyone. I'll be right back.”

Azriel had already moved to the next dragon, his eyes wide as he took him in. “Eros,” she said without even needing to be asked. “Controls light. Collects rare and exotics weapons. And no. He will not trade.”

Azriel sighed softly. “So I can't convince him to give me that sword,” he pointed towards the curved Peregryn blade made from Illyrian steel. One all three males knee. “Can you tell me how he got that.”

Aerilyn rested her head on his, stroking those golden and pink iridescent scales.

They watched in shock as her eyes went blue, and the dragon's did as well. “On a battlefield after the war against Hybern,” the dragon said. A voice like smooth deep chocolate coming from him. “I will trade it for the dagger you carry. But nothing else.”

Aerilyn released the magic she was so used to, turning to Azriel and making a face as the drake licked up her face. “No deal. I'll find something else he may like, though.”

“Dawn,” Cassian whispered to Rhys.

Another golden beast sat in the next area, significantly smaller than the rest, but radiating power they had not felt yet. Azriel and Cassian's siphons began to dim as they were drained. This dragon was surrounded by ancient texts and crystals. “Hekate,” Aerilyn marked and shut the book the dragon was reading gently, allowing her to rest fully onto her claws. “She hoards books and crystals. She drains magic to use it for herself. Your siphons are easy targets. It's part of why she loved Illyria and why we remained so well hidden.”

“Day,” Rhysand said plainly as he moved to the last dragon. The beast immediately raised it's head, confirming the suspicions the three of them had. The black scaled beasts scales lit up, radiating like Starfall. “Which means this is a poison dragon, commonly found in the Night Court. What does he hoard?”

“Starlight,” Aerilyn moved between Achlys and Rhysand, protecting her second favorite dragon from the High Lord he was born to serve. “And souls.” Achlys Say up, towering over Aerilyn as he looked down upon the males in front of him.

Rhys rose his chin to the challenge. “They used to call these dragons the world eaters.”

Aerilyn looked at Rhys, glaring slightly, “They used to call them many things.”

Rhys nodded and raised a hand to the dragon, allowing it to sniff him before patting its scaled nose. “I have no worries, Aerilyn Darling. I would like to see each drake's powers sometime, though.” Rhysand offered her his arm, moving her back to Enlil as Cassian and Azriel left the pit to discuss the potential they were sitting on. “There's a female in Pryithian,” Rhysand began. “One who stood at Hybern's side as their general and is now claiming to be an emissary. I have no plans on exposing you all to her, but I'd like to know the advantage I have. Just in case.”

Ari felt her hazel eyes widened in shock. “In case of war?” Rhysand nodded, kissing her knuckles and kneeling down in front of where she sat on her mounts clawed paw. “Rhys-”

He gave her a soft look, “Not for my benefit, my mate. For the safety of these lands, our home, them, you. I need to know before Amarantha pulls something. And I need to know they are able to protect you.”

Taglist : @kemillyfreitas @jesssicapaniagua @elijahssuit @biancabldss @hellwantfuckme @justdreamstars @sidthedollface2

#acotar #acotar x oc #rhysand x oc #rhysand fic #rhysand acotar #rhys fic #rhys acotar #rhys x oc #flightpatterns

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divinemare · 9 months

Note

WIP list is work in progress list :)

oh ok ok! i don’t have one, but i’ll leave one for you here :)

ACOTAR

azriel

- a court of gods and monsters (part 13)

last posted part (part 12)

- cruel cauldron (part five)

last posted part (part 4)

- requests: second chance, rhys’s sister

- one shots: exile

rhys

- legend of a mortal love (part eight)

last posted part (part seven)

- requests: single dad

- one shots: kingdom dance

nyx archeron

- cold starlights (part 10)

last posted part (part 9)

no time to die (new) (part one) (a valkyrie story that i’m working on)

FOURTH WING

xaden

- the princess and the rebel (new) (part one)

- requests: jealous xaden

- one shots: vampire

violet

- requests: same as xaden

brennan

- born to die (part five)

last posted part (part four)

CRESCENT CITY

- one shots: rhys’ sister aka rhuns’ mom comes back to prythian

jesus christ i hadn’t realized how much work i had in progress until this. i need to get shit done quickly omg

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purple-writer8 · 9 days

Text

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - ACOTAR

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister (Reader)

“I cry a lot but I am so productive. It’s an art.”

warnings: toxic man implied, abused eris, emotionally unavailable eris, depressed reader, broken up mates, angst

968 words

Masterlist :)

"Yes, I went to Day and reported the findings to Helion. Then to Thesan." You reported to your High Lord and Lady. Rhysand looked more than pleased, and Feyre could only gape at you in awe.

"You did all that in a day?" She asked in shock, admiration gleaming in her eyes for you. You nodded, a tired smile adorning your face, "and the ball is all set for tonight."

Feyre gaped along with her mate, they could hardly believe it. "You are a blessing, a real fucking blessing. Thank you, so much... you will get more than a hefty bonus in your next payment." Rhysand grinned, dark talons caressing your mind in a soothing way.

You rolled your eyes at your brother, then asked, "why do you two always act like I'm some kind of miracle fae?"

They glanced at each other, then back at you, and then pity overtook both their stares. You know why. You were supposed to be heartbroken, as you had just ended your betrothal to Eris Vanserra. The two of you were mates, but the abuse he had suffered from his father and the toxic familiar dynamics he had grown up in, made him less than emotionally unavailable.

He was unable to communicate what he felt, all he could do was share his feelings through your bond. But that was not enough, not when he had commitment issues and acted like an ass to your family. The bond was strong, but your self-respect was stronger. Especially when you knew what you were worth, being the Night Court's High Lord's sister and Princess of Velaris.

"What happened with Eris... at the last ball... it was bad..." Feyre trailed, not wanting to exactly mention what had happened. It was fucking painful for you, you had broken your engagement in front of everyone. "And I saw you crying last night... and this morning before your mission..." she added.

"I cry a lot, but I am still very productive. I can do my work with a broken heart." You replied with a simple shrug, much to Rhysand's dismay. You had always been like that, had always hidden your feelings and done your work even when you were breaking down.

“You’re a real tough kid.” He said softly, violet eyes eyeing you closely, “you complete all your missions seamlessly. You are an example to follow.”

You chuckled dryly, “yeah, yeah, I am the best. Can I go get ready for tonight? I got the most beautiful dress and I want to try it on.” With that, the couple simply nodded and excused you.

They were right to be impressed. You wanted to die, and yet— you were ready to shine that night, like every other night.

Ready to show everyone lies.

The ball in the House of Wind went off without a problem, and like every other night-- you were the center of attention. The gown you wore was magnificent, the light reflected off you in a majestic manner, almost as if you wore liquid starlight in your frame. You stood at the side of the bar with Azriel, watching as everyone arrived, sipping on a tall glass of champagne. You knew Eris was coming, you needed to drink before seeing him.

"You look pretty," the shadowsinger said in a stoic manner, hazel eyes traveling up and down your frame swiftly. You smirked into your glass, "as do you."

"Have you spoken to him?" He asked, and you knew he referred to Eris. Azriel cared, and he showed it, having known you since the moment you had been born-- he was protective of you. Especially because he loathed Eris with all his being.

"Please, he avoids me like I am faebane," you snorted, the alcohol working its magic on you already. And you were grateful for it, because you almost choked when your eyes met the red - haired male that had once promised he would love you for his whole life. What a short life.

You felt Azriel's eyes on you, his shadows coiling around your ankles in support as you watched Eris strut into the ball as if he owned it. He commanded the room, but that was normal. He was a magnetic force of a male. You looked at Azriel, seeking shelter in his hazel eyes-- the mating bond was tugging you to Eris, his presence was like a fire roaring inside your heart.

You were about to break down, so you hit the dance floor. Dragging your sister-in-law from her seat next to your brother, you danced and danced. Feyre and you were always a force to be reckoned with when you partied together, and that night was no exception. You both were grinning as you danced, twirling about the Hall as if you were made of starlight.

The crowd of fae chanted and cheered for you, and you could feel the pieces of your heart shattering on the floor. It was always like that. You were miserable, and no one even knew. You laughed as you danced with Feyre, as if you couldn't feel your mate's heartbreak from across the room. "Eris looks like he wants to die," Feyre whispered as if she could read your mind.

"Yeah, but if I try to talk to him, he avoids me like I have fae plague," you snickered, your eyes finding the heir of Autumn. As soon as your eyes found his, they were looking away from you, as if he hadn't been watching you dance. You wanted to die, but instead you twirled and grinned as if you were having the time of your life.

"Then let me talk to him," the High Lady offered, and you stopped your dancing, giving her a stern look.

"I can handle my shit, Feyre."

Author’s note:

This will probably have a part two because i love eris and i want him to be happy. Also ttpd has me in my feels soooooo probs a lot of angst coming ehfuhihoiqhioghhrueiuifio3iij4rijj

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

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