#was a way for elain to stay human in some sort of way
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Now I’m in exile seeing you out
Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 4k | warnings: none
Summary: a follow up to you’re losing me - You've reached your tipping point where you can't forgive Azriel's constant choice of work over you. Can he fix things? Or did things get wildly out of hand and it's too late?
Author’s note: you guys loved part one, hopefully this offers a satisfying conclusion 🥰
2k celebration masterlist
Your new apartment was quiet, not even your neighbors were making noise. You had grown accustomed to the silence the past few months - Azriel always being gone had left the house a certain way - too large, too quiet, too much without him. This silence felt different.
It wasn’t full of expectation - of wanting Azriel to come through the door or expecting him to treat you like he did in the before.
Now you’re in the after, your finger feeling light from the lack of the ring on it. Fae don’t usually wear rings - a human custom that Feyre had told you all about, one that Azriel found quite romantic.
“So that way when we are buried and our scents are gone, if anyone found our bodies, they would know what we were.”
His words were romantic, but now the tan line on your finger just made you feel hollow, as if this wasn’t supposed to be happening.
Any sound you made just echoed through the too empty space - you had foolishly gotten rid of most of your previous furniture when you and Azriel bought a house - your new furniture not arriving for a few more days. Feyre had found you this apartment rather quickly when you showed up at the River House in the middle of the night, uncertain of where else to go. She and Rhysand had agreed to let you stay there until you found a place of your own and they also agreed to not tell Azriel where you were.
“We could start fresh,” you had said to him, mainly wanting a good enough reason to throw out the couch you’ve had for half a century. But now all the new furniture was left behind, in a house too big for one occupant, probably laughing at your past words.
A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you look through the peephole to find Feyre standing outside with a large plant of some sort. You unlock the door, letting her in. She gives you a soft smile and hugs you, the absurdly large plant making it somewhat difficult to get your arms around her.
She chirps a greeting to you, rubbing your back gently as you pull back from her. She knew why you had done it - you spent several nights over the past year on her couch crying to her over Azriel and his lack of time for you.
Behind her came Rhys, carrying several buckets of paint, rollers, tins, tarps. Your eyebrows raised, “is this your new art studio, Feyre? Are you going to teach Rhys how to paint?”
She giggles and Rhys rolls his eyes at you, setting the things in his arms down before kissing you on the top of your head. You lean into his touch before he pulls away, softly telling you, “we’re helping you paint the place - white walls are boring.”
In the days to come over the next week, you had multiple visitors. They all made you feel better while they were here, but whenever they left you felt that Azriel shaped hole in your heart all over again. Cassian had been the first after Feyre to visit, barreling into your apartment, nearly squeezing the life out of you once he got in the door, upset he had to wait so long to see you.
“Cass, it’s been four days.”
“The house’s not the same without you.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Cassian gave you a look that you didn’t like, and the two of you were teetering on the edge of the forbidden. You had asked Feyre to tell everyone they can come visit, but not to talk about Azriel in any way.
Unfortunately, much of Cassian’s life involves Azriel so he had a much harder time than everyone else. Any time he’d veer into Azriel territory, he’d quickly go, “oops” and cover his mouth very quickly, as if he had cursed in front of a child.
Elain had visited the next day, offering to help you prepare some potted window plants. The two of you walked through the Velaris markets, Elain prattling on about different kinds of plants. You knew she was trying to distract you, help you pick up the pieces of your broken life. So you picked out different plants for your windowsill, the weight of them in your arms much lighter than the weight of your emotions.
It was hard wandering the streets with Elain - this city felt so much like him, the streets littered with cafes the two of you frequented. Elain, whose presence you enjoyed greatly, felt like a stabbing reminder of what you lost.
You know Elain came in with you when you got back to your apartment, repotting the plants into the window planter she brought. Fresh dirt covered their roots, allowing them to grow in their new place. You can’t remember what Elain spoke about, just nodding along with her until you eventually found yourself alone again.
Each day brought a new member of Azriel’s family to visit, and you loved them, truly loved them, but it was hard to feel like they were coming for you as opposed to coming on behalf of him. You knew they loved you, despite whatever was happening between you and Azriel, but your interactions were always colored with him in the background.
You had been expecting Nesta to show up when you opened the door to find Azriel looking back at you.
You were a bit surprised at the restraint he maintained waiting so long, a whole week passing since you had left, but you said all you wanted to say in that note. You wanted him to feel awful, to finally see how you were feeling.
You just hated that it came to this to get him to see you.
He looked terrible. His shadows were pooled at his feet, darting towards you with affection, dancing around you. His wings were practically dragging on the floor, his shoulders sagged, his hair was a mess. His eyes looked lifeless, his jaw covered in stubble.
Good.
“Azriel,” you bit out, not an ounce of affection in your tone. “May I help you?”
“I want you to come home.” His words were clipped, agitation clear in his voice.
“This is my home, you may come in for a few minutes if you want to talk.”
You didn’t really want to invite him in, wanting him to stand outside your door, feeling as unwanted as you had for so many months. But you had new neighbors, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out how nosy they were with this conversation.
The sight of him made you so angry, but a tiny part of you wanted to reach out to him, running your fingers through his hair, and coax him to come to bed so the two of you could actually sleep.
He shut the door behind him before turning back to you.
“Please, come back. I’ll be better.”
Your hands nestle onto your hips, your jaw rotating in annoyance. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He sighs, his feet moving of their own accord across your floor, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floor.
“Was I not enough for you?”
His words send you into a tailspin of rage, your vision going red. “Azriel,” you say, voice rising, “that’s a funny thing to ask, when you were never there! I gave you everything. Endless excuses, endless empathy. I spent so much time telling people that what you were doing was okay, that I forgot it wasn’t! You weren’t there!”
His hands run down his face, shaking his head in denial. His shadows swirled the room, and you could hear them whispering to him, but what they were saying you couldn’t make out.
“You’re the one who decided that everything I had wasn’t enough for you.”
Your words hit their mark, and the Illyrian before you halts and removes his hands from his face, looking nothing like the formidable soldier he was, but rather the boy he had been. You take a deep breath, opening your door once more behind him.
“I needed you to risk something, I needed you to choose me.”
You stop forward, pushing him through the threshold.
“Most of all, I needed you to choose yourself, too.”
You shut the door on him, leaning your forehead against the wood. The place was suffocating you with its silence. It was a new silence, compared to the one you’d wait in while Azriel was off.
This one felt full of hope and possibilities.
-
Three decades passed since that fateful night, but you could still see Azriel’s eyes in the shadows some nights. You hated burning candles - the way the shadows flickered and danced reminded you of the shadows that curled your fingers, the ones that kept you company whenever Azriel spent too long away.
You had dated here and there since Azriel - none of them lasting more than a few years. They were fine - all attractive, all nice, but they all ended for one reason or another. One moved to a different court, which you didn’t want to do. Another’s mother didn’t like you and it just didn’t work out after that. Several relationships fizzled out because there just wasn’t a spark between you two. You felt cursed, unlucky in love, destined to be alone.
Or perhaps destined to always be heartbroken.
It wasn’t all bad - you just weren’t lucky with romance. You had fallen back in love with Velaris a few years after leaving Azriel, the city lights coaxing you back. You had actually considered leaving entirely, the city feeling too much of him.
Until one day, about five years after you left, you had walked the Sidra one night, the reflections of the street lights giving the city and the river a new glow.
It enchanted you, waking you up from the stupor you had been in for so long.
After that, you spent a lot of your time around Velaris - running events for the city, making friends with several of the business owners. It felt good to find a new support system in the city - one not connected to your ex boyfriend.
You clutch your coat tighter around yourself as you weave through the streets of Velaris, heading back to your apartment. You walk by some apartments, a few men standing around outside, their boisterous laughs making you feel uneasy. One of them starts calling for you, but you ignore his words and walk faster.
You heard footsteps behind you, and you turned a corner hoping he’d stop following you.
“Leave her alone.”
You knew that voice - the deep timbre one you heard in occasional dreams, calling to you even after all these years. You stop your fast walking, turning just in time to make eye contact with those hazel eyes you’ve been dreaming of forever. You can’t run - he’s already stopped still at the sight of you, as if time was stopping for this unexpected reunion.
He stands behind the guy who was following you, his face peering over the male’s shoulder at you.
“She your bitch?”
Azriel’s growl shocks you, and the male turns, allowing his siphons to glow bright in the night. The male stops his chuckling, replaced with deep apologies, running off in the other direction as Azriel moves closer to you, and the two of you start walking in the direction towards your apartment.
The streets are quiet as Azriel follows your lead, his boots scuffing the cobblestone street. It felt strange to be next to him again, the wind rippling against the skin of his wings a sound you never thought you’d hear again.
He clears his throat, “sorry about them.” He gestures behind himself before adding, “I saw them yelling at some female and just wanted to keep anything from happening.”
You look up at him, drinking in his appearance. Thirty years had passed since he came to your apartment that day - since you yelled and screamed at him. You had wanted to yell more that day, but you were so drained from how things ended, you just wanted to move on. He looked much the same - his jawline sharp, his large nose littered with the freckles you loved so much. They were more prominent now, likely a result of the summer sun. His hair was a little lighter, cut a little shorter than you remembered it, the curls lightly dusting the top of his forehead.
You had hardly spoken to much of his family recently, your new job and not living in one of their properties making it quite difficult to schedule dinners and lunches. The last time you saw any of them was either when Elain visited you about six years ago or when you saw Cassian in a coffee shop, a tiny babe in his arms some odd years ago.
You had caught glimpses of the inner circle over the years - a wave to Feyre across a restaurant, the sight of Rhys’s smirk through a window, the bookshop clerk down the street mentioning Nesta. Glimpses of their lives, but you never allowed yourself to stop for too long to get caught back into their orbit.
You had once been so integrated into the family, but it was hard to continue when you pulled away from Azriel. They loved you, you knew that, but they were his family and it never felt quite right without him, every one of your conversations with them overshadowed by the lack of Azriel. So, you had pulled back. It’s not what they wanted, it’s not what you wanted, but it was what you needed.
So many things were the same, but he somehow looked lighter, as if the weight of the world weren’t on his shoulders anymore. It made him look so free and so beautiful.
Maybe he found someone who could finally help against his demons.
“It’s quite alright - I actually should thank you for that and for walking me home. I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking home alone after that.”
You two continue on in silence, the only sound your shoes against the cobblestones and the fae moving about on the streets, heading off for their nights to start as yours ended on this strange note. The silence was lingering for too long, old emotions stirring beneath the surface. You had to break the tension.
“Is Cassian a dad now?”
Azriel’s eyes widened before throwing his head back laughing. You had almost forgotten just how beautiful that sound was. Almost. “Fuck no.”
His chuckles bounce off the streets of Velaris as he mutters, “but he and Nesta still fuck like they’re desperate for one.”
“But I swear I saw him out with a kid with wings a few years ago.”
Azriel stops to think for a moment before squinting his eyes a bit, “do you remember the issues we had with wing clipping?” You nod, remembering how just the details of some of the things Azriel’s seen at the hands of his people made you queasy. “We helped a few of the women escape the camps - we’ve been trying to make safe spaces for them to live in to prove to the males that they don’t need them. It’s slow, but we’ve got a few dozen living in and around Velaris.”
Wow, you thought. Your smile is genuine as you congratulate him, “that’s impressive, Az!” He shakes his head at your celebratory tone. “Really, I know progress is slow with them, but that’s great.” You beam up at him before scratching the back of your head, “but it still doesn’t explain the kid I saw.”
“A few of the females brought their kids with them, and Cassian likes to spend time with each of them one-on-one. He says it’s a good excuse to get ice cream, but I think he just likes seeing them have a present male in their lives.”
You two continue winding through the streets, a cool breeze lifting through your hair. It was so odd to be here with him, odder still for this to feel normal. Azriel clears his throat, his voice a bit uncertain, “I’ve been uh delegating more.”
You pause, feet stopping on the road. They’re just words, nothing more, but Azriel’s never delegated. A true perfectionist to his core, he never even considered delegating any task Rhys asks of him. You turn to look at him, his hazel eyes looking back to you full of regret and longing.
“I’ve been uh, using some of the spies under me more. I’ve been trusting them with more important work.”
The two of you reached your apartment door, the same one Feyre had painted silver all those years ago. You can hear his shaky breath as he continued. “I don’t deserve you. I never have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t-“ he sighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I do deserve love.”
His voice breaks at that and some piece of you shatters all over again at how poorly he was treated to never feel like he deserved anything good or kind.
“This is coming out all wrong,” he huffs, tugging lightly at some of his hair, “but Madja’s been helping me for a long time. I- it’s so hard to let me be deserving of love. I always felt I had to earn it. I felt I had to do the impossible things asked of me and that would finally make me worthy.”
He sighs, a slight thump from the door as he leans his forehead against it.
“I am worthy of being loved. And so are you.”
His hands are shaking, but his shadows wrapped around them, forming something similar to tight fitting gloves, offering some kind of security to him to continue.
“If the damage is too much, I understand. You can tell me to fuck off at any point. But if… if you would let me, I’d like to.. I’d like to show you that I’m trying. That I’ve been working on myself.”
You continue to look up at him, gobsmacked at this confessional from him.
“It’s hard. I couldn’t make progress overnight, hence my long absence. But I have made progress. I’ve uh actually been taking days off. I started going on trips to Day and Summer a few years back. I read three books at the beach a few months ago, actually.”
He laughs at the absurdity of his trip - a vacation. Something he’s never done. To spend days on his own, nothing but a book to keep him company is all you’ve ever wanted from him.
A pause. A breath. But he keeps going, needing to get his jumbled thoughts out of his head and into yours.
“It’s been a long time, but I think about you every day. I’ve probably made a fool of myself out here, but if there is any way you aren’t seeing anyone and if any part of you misses me at all…” He trails off, his fist lightly hitting the door. “I just wanted you to know that I’m trying. I’m bettering myself. I am better. I know it’s late, but..”
He trails off, unsure of how to finish his sentence. Your silence was eerie, leading him to keep talking, his words unable to stop.
“I just- I never wanted things to get here. I was foolish, and I didn’t appreciate you. It took you leaving to realize I could not continue like I was… I can’t.. Let myself hurt the people I care about anymore.”
You stay rooted, pressed against the door, not moving.
They were just words, the same things that hurt you over the years of broken promises and missed dates. But they’re so thought out. He’s had thirty years to mull things over, and he feels so much lighter than before.
You’re conflicted, but the optimist in you wins out as your voice finally finds you.
“Show me.”
-
Every Sunday for several weeks at 8 AM Azriel would stand on your doorstep and knock gently. You would open the door and he would present you with a bouquet of flowers - varieties of colors and species made their home on your dining room table as the weeks go by.
The two of you stroll through the city. The city you loved so dearly and for so long, parts of it feeling impossible to look at without thinking of the male next to you.
He would usually open up with some story about Cassian or Rhysand to break the ice. Then he’d tell you about his week - where Rhysand had sent him off, what he did on his days off that weren’t Sunday, anything that stood out. The two of you wander the streets, only stopping for occasional treats to eat while continuing your walk.
As the weeks go by, he starts filling you in on the past thirty years. For a long time, he saw Madja almost daily. She began providing him with herbs that helped regulate his moods, helped him sleep better, and helped him feel better. She also began having him comb through the deepest parts of himself he tried to forget, the memories of that little boy abandoned in that dungeon. He’d also tell you about how the rest of the Inner Circle was doing - Feyre and Rhys were trying for a baby, Elain was traveling a lot, Nesta and Cassian were… Nesta and Cassian.
Now he only sees Madja every other week, and she seems quite impressed by his progress. She should be, you think, he’s a far cry from the male you kicked out of your apartment all those decades ago.
After a few weeks, you began opening up to him as well. How hard it was to leave, your relationships in your time apart, how empty everything had felt without him, how you’d developed some strong friendships in the years apart.
“I had to pick up the pieces of myself too, Az.”
His heart pangs with guilt, but you reach out for his elbow, eyes bright with beginnings.
“I always wondered what I’d do if you came back to me, but I never thought you’d be how you are now. You seem so… light?” Your voice comes out more like a question, and you chuckle. “You just seem so different, but in a good way.”
“I feel different. I feel like I’m not… like I’m not that little boy anymore. Like I don’t have to prove myself to be loved. If not by you, by someone.”
His words linger in the air and you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest at his words.
“I do want it to be you, though. If you’d have me, that is.”
Your heart wanted you to lean forward, wanted nothing more than for you to wrap yourself in his embrace. But before either of you could move forward, you had to know, one way or another.
“Why did you keep pushing the wedding back?”
Your voice was soft and shaky, but the question had been lingering on your mind for so long, it was on the tip of your tongue every time the two of you met up.
“I couldn’t tell you before because you would have been so nice about it, but I- I thought I was ruining you. I didn’t want you, so kind, so wonderful, to be tethered to me for all eternity. But I was too selfish to let you go. I still am, I suppose.”
He shrugs, his shoulders folding inward toward you, his wings drooping a bit. “I know now how ridiculous that sounds, but I.. wanted you but I also wanted better for you.”
He turned toward you, his skin shining like gold in the sun. He was radiant - a word hardly ever used for him before. He looked as Helion does, as if the sun was redirecting its rays through him.
“So I became better for you, for myself, for my family.”
And that was what you needed to hear. It was never about you (in many ways it was), but at the end of the day, you always wanted what was best for the both of you.
And he became that.
On a beautiful summer day, you stood on your tiptoes, your hands reaching upwards to pull his face into yours.
And by gods even his kisses felt lighter.
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Thanks for reading 💕
#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#acotar writing#azriel#azriel x y/n#azriel angst
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fixing the acowar to acosf pipeline
(compilation of things ive seen and my own ideas)
first rhys does not come back to life
he either enters a coma or is deeply wounded in some life altering way
due to rhys’s incapacitation feyre will become the sole ruler of the night court
this will allow her to learn how to deal with politics and gain genuine trust of the IC of her abilities outside of her being rhys’s mate
simultaneously she will be looking for a way to cure him/wake him up
feyre and elain will come together and decide that nesta needs help and give her an intervention that comes from love and support and worry rather than from rhys and amren
she will still go to the house of wind and train and work with the priestesses etc etc to give her life some structure
very important: cassian will not sleep with nesta no matter what she does. he will choose her mental well-being and to be her friend instead
I want like a rowaelin style reluctant friendship where they end up sleeping in the same bed because they both crave physical touch and each others presence but cassian maintains that sexual boundary
I think it makes a lot more sense for feyre to suggest cassian plays courtier than it does for rhys
some sort of real exploration of nestas powers ideally in the court of nightmares where she realizes there are other dreamers that are suffering there too
nesta brings this up to feyre, and feyre being feyre wants to give them a chance. they bond over this and this is one aspect to them mending their relationship
I think the blood rite and the eris plot can stay
but the human queen (I forgot her name) that’s gotta be better
all 3 archerons have a real conversation about how they feel about each other and realize they do not have to be best friends to love and support each other
nessian gets together towards the end of nestas healing journey where they allow themselves to love each other
and because they haven’t had sex the sexual tension is off the fucking roof
finally nesta saves rhys’s life (somehow idk that’s up to sjm) so no stupid baby plot and she most definitely does not lose her powers
ok so that’s my thoughts!
#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#elain archeron#cassian#nessian#rhysand#feysand#acosf#acowar#gwynriel#elucien#eris vanserra
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Happy Christmas @nightcourtseer!
Written for @acotargiftexchange.
Summary: Elain and Azriel meet most nights, away from the prying eyes of everyone else.
Tags: smut, but nothing hardcore, implied angst, implied unhappiness, mdni, 3rd person pov, alternating pov
Word Count: 3.2k
She always smelt like the mornings even when she was covered in sweat and dirt. Everything about her reminded him of the daylilies she painstakingly tended to - the way her smile bloomed best in the morning sunrise, the way the folds of her dress seemed to wither just slightly in the evening time.
Azriel had tried once to tell her about the comparison, but the words had died in his mouth before he could get them out. She had thought it was amusing to watch him stand there and flail like a fish out of water, like a schoolboy who just developed his first crush.
He sometimes thought that she knew, that she had to know, that she was smart enough to read the way his shadows stormed and raged when she was around. She had to notice the way they stretched towards her in the long stretches of the night when the both of them couldn’t sleep and found solace beneath the Velaris stars together.
And Velaris never really slept - not really. Not when neither of them could sleep and the lullaby of their feet against the cobblestone street was the only sound that could bring them any sort of peace. On those evenings, Azriel watched Elain press herself against the stone fence that ran alongside the Sidra and he wondered as she looked down into the waters, if she was remembering being hauled from the waters that stormed within the Cauldron.
The sunlight cleaved the two of them apart, back to their prospected corners of the townhouse.
Tonight was one of the nights neither of them could sleep. Azriel finds her in the garden two cups of tea steaming in the darkness.
“You have a knack for that,” Az tells her, lowering himself down into the chair across from her, but Elain doesn’t look up at him. Instead, her eyes stay downcast at the flowers in her lap, fingers expertly intertwining the stems.
“A knack for what?”
“For knowing when someone is going to show up.”
Azriel can see the dark moons beneath her eyes, and halfway she smiles at him as she turns just so in the chair below her. But the smile fades quickly, replaced with a frown that makes the edges of Az’s stomach hurt.
“I always know when you’re going to show up.”
Elain used to pray. She didn’t know who she was praying to during her years in the human world. But she never could shake the feeling of something larger than human life looming over her and her family, looming over them and waiting for the next change of something good to happen so it could snatch it away again.
So Elain would pray each day behind Nesta’s back - silent in the night watching the stars out of the window.
She used to pray that Nesta would find some semblance of happiness in this life; that her father’s knee would hurt him less. That Feyre would return from the snow and frost-coated forest safely, even if it meant coming back empty-handed. She prayed for a man with kind hands who would deliver her from that frozen shack.
The Cauldron twisted each one and spat them back at her.
She wanted Nesta’s anger - her ability to keep the fight inside of her no matter what was placed in front of her. She wanted Feyre’s discipline.
She got this instead.
Az doesn’t tell her about Rhys’ command to stay away from her, instead opting to see her at night.
“I’m busy lately. Sorry.”
Elain sighs, fingers tracing the patterns in the wrought iron table. Sometimes Az wonders if she hears him when he speaks or does she just feels what he says.
“I know,” she says, voice clear and ringing in the nighttime, “Training the next generation?”
Azriel doesn’t sit until she tilts her head towards the chair and now cold cup of tea. It’s easy to sit here with her; a respite from the rest of the world. But keeping his hands on the teacup is hard, clenching it just too tight for the fragile porcelain. At his feet, his shadows swirl, reaching delicately towards the hem of her skirt.
“Do you want to go on a walk tonight?” Elain asks suddenly, her tea abandoned on the table. “I don’t feel like sitting around hearing Feyre and Rhys tonight.”
Az grins into his sip of tea until the sounds of Rhy’s words ring through his skull. He tries to keep the pleasant expression on his face, but he feels it twist and sour.
“I can’t tonight. Rhys needs me on patrol.”
Elain doesn’t look at him; she doesn’t need to for him to see the way her face falls just in an increment beneath that mask she wears so well. He wants to see it fall completely - a sight he’s only seen a handful of times - but there’s nothing to do for that.
Elain stands, hands running down the imaginary wrinkles of her skirt; she keeps her eyes firmly planted on the ground in front of her.
“I have to go to bed. Goodnight Az.”
Az twists in his seat, hand and shadows trailing after her, a silent plea to stay.
It lingers in the air after she’s disappeared.
He finds her a few nights later lingering at the river's edge, coat hood pulled low over her face to hide from the world.
“Busy again today?
He catches the edge in her voice and ignores it, leaning against the railing to look down at her face. There’s a shadow under her eyes that wasn’t there a few days ago. The wind cuts sharply through the city, and without a thought, Az shifts so that his wings catch most of the chill.
“I’ve been on patrol,” Az says, biting back the bitter truth that he’s been trying to stay away from her like Rhys commanded. Elain sighs, hands wrapped around the railing of the ridge, and the intense urge to reach out and touch the sensitive skin of her cheek rips through Azriel.
“You’ve been on patrol a lot these days.”
She knows.
It’s a bell ringing through Az, the realization that Elain knows they aren’t supposed to be together, a shockwave that keeps his feet cemented heavily to the ground. Az fumbles over his words until the slump of Elain’s shoulders stops him in his tracks.
“Please walk with me tonight?”
Az wants to wrestle with himself, wants to keep his promise to Rhys wholly intact, but his arm extends of its own will; his heartbeat jumps on its own when Elain’s small hand wraps around him and she tucks herself into his side.
It’s a foolish endeavor, Elain thinks as the two of them duck into a small place advertising a room for the night. There’s no hiding here from the prying eyes of the city, of the hands that crawl back to Rhysand and Feyre to report on every little thing she does.
But for once, since she tore herself away from the Cauldron, she wants to feel, wants to ignore it all. It’s not fair, she thinks as Az takes her hand, his scarred one gentle as he tangles his fingers with her, not fair that Nesta and Feyre get to fall to their basest ambitions, but she is expected to be the princess in the tower.
The room is small and cold, a fire jumping to life as the two of them step into the room. Elain wonders at the flames as they climb higher, still in amazement at the magic that flows around her each day now. The small snick of the door behind her pulls her attention away from the unnaturally bright flames and back to the present.
Azriel dominates in the closed doorway, wings tucked tight against his body, frame still filling the space even as he tries to fold in on himself. Elain tucks her hands behind her back to hide the tremor in them as she speaks.
“I just -” She doesn’t know how to say what she wants, doesn’t know how to explain how badly she needs him, so she drops the words and picks up new ones. “I’d like to just sleep beside you.”
Az nods, slowly and carefully before bending down to tug at the laces of his boots, shucking them off and placing them neatly beside the door. The motion gives Elain enough bravery to pull her shoes off, to shrug her cloak off and drape it over the footboard of the bed. She turns, wordlessly to present her back to Azriel, and without her having to ask, his hands begin to work at the laces of her dress.
When the fabric sags around her, she lets it fall, pooling on the floor around her feet. Elain kicks it out of the way, turning in just her chemise to Az. His eyes never leave her face as she reaches out to slide her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the way he shivers as her fingers trace the edges of his scars.
Azriel lets her push the shirt off of him; it falls to the floor with her dress. The room seems to press in on the two of them, chilly despite the fire. Elain’s hands rest against his chest, so naturally - as if they were made for him.
He lets her guide him to the bed, falling into the soft down together until they tangle beneath the sheets. Elain’s eyes trace across the hard plane of his stomach, hand reaching out to touch the sensitive skin of his side. Her fingers trail upwards until they catch the edge of his wing.
Azriel bites the inside of his cheek, trying to bite back the moan that threatens to break through him, to keep the feeling of being torn apart at her touch inside.
Her fingers trace the scars of his wings; blood blooms in his mouth. She reaches the apex of his wing, and he has to grasp her wrist.
“Please -” he manages to choke out, eyes clenched against the wave of pleasure that started to build through him, “Please.”
He’s not sure if he’s pleading for more or for her to stop, but he feels the way she tenses in the bed beside him, the way she shifts beneath the sheets and the warmth of her breath.
“Azriel look at me.”
He wants to imprint the moment in his brain: her hair pooled around her like honey, the moonlight creating a halo around her silhouette. The shadows under her eyes are darker, and more distinct than earlier.
Elain studies his face before sighing and letting her sink into the bed beside him. Azriel lays still as she tucks herself beside him, wrapping his arm around her middle. His wing comes over the two of them, shielding them from the outside world.
In the warm darkness, they fall asleep together.
It becomes routine to find each other in the nighttime, to sleep tangled together in the small bed. The inn on the edge of town keeps its secret between the four walls of the little room, refusing to let the secret escape.
They don’t mention the way their hands search for each other in the night once the light of the fire has died down into just a glimmer from the embers. Elain’s fingers trace the hard planes of Azriel’s body; his own hands smooth over the fatty parts of her hips, hitching her leg over his hip, fingers teasing the edge of the chemise she wears to sleep.
It stays teasing, until the weather shifts.
The rainy season cuts through like a knife, forcing the citizens of Velaris underneath the awning of business, crouched together like little bugs. Elain watches them from the little window in the corner of the room. The stars fight to be seen behind the clouds that roll angrily.
Az lets himself fall into the little falsehood the two of them have built here, reclining back against the headboard. His shirt’s been thrown to the side, boots left by the door. His eyes trace over the curves of Elain, and something in his heart twists, a jagged knife - a feeling that this has to come to an end at some point.
“Do you think the river will flood?” Elain’s voice is nearly incomprehensible over the storm outside, but Azriel’s ears pick it up like a holy hymn.
“It never has before,” he frowns, trying to think of a time it’s come close, “I don’t think.”
Elain lets the curtain fall, cutting the water light out of the room. She’s dressed in pink today - the type of dress you hardly see around Velaris. Her fingers twine themselves into the fabric, and she chews on her lip. Azriel can feel that she wants to speak, so he pushes himself up and to the end of the bed.
“Nesta asked where I’ve been staying.”
Azriel’s face falls into a frown; it’s never a good thing when Nesta starts asking questions and sniffing around. Unconsciously he lifts his hands, and like a puzzle slotting itself together, Elain lets him take her hands from the fabric of her skirt and pull her between his knees.
“What did you tell her?
Elain’s lip is raw where she chews on it; Azriel wants to run his tongue along the redded skin.
“I told her to mind her own business.”
A bark of a laugh escaped Azriel at the mental image of Nesta’s face whenever she heard Elain tell her that. The sound makes the corners of Elain’s smile pull up and Azriel realizes that he’s tracing the back of her hands with his thumb.
There’s a thread danging in front of the two of them, and Azriel wants to reach out and pull it to see what would unravel.
But he’s too cowardly, pulling his hands back.
There’s a fire in Elain, stoked by the feeling of Azriel’s fingertips on her skin. The intense urge to feel more - to feel the way his touch would be on her hip, her breast, in between her legs is overwhelming.
The feeling in the room sharpens when she pushes herself further between his legs, forcing Az to shift so that Elain can slot herself closer to him.
“Kiss me Azriel.”
Elain watches the way emotions flash across Azriel’s face - she knows he wrestling with the idea. She knows he’s thinking of Rhys and Lucien and all the horrible things that could happen, and she wants to wash those thoughts away.
Her lips find him, and they melt together, an arson fire consuming everything between the two of them. Azriel’s hands jump to Elain’s waist, pulling her closer. A frenetic energy coats the room, and suddenly it’s as if there is nothing outside of this room and each other.
Elain’s skin is on fire when Azriel touches her, burning her through the frills of her dress. His hands travel to the stays, fingers tugging them roughly until the fabric loosens. It’s not a new motion for Azraiel - to slide the dress off a woman’s shoulders - but he shivers when his hands touch Elain’s skin, the feeling suddenly so new to him.
Elain’s hands press against Azriel’s chest, nails digging lightly into the tender flesh of his chest. Azriel falls back onto the bed, wings dipping down to trace the floor on each side. There’s a tightness around Elain’s eyes that he wants to kiss away; Elain lets her dress slip from her shoulders and pool on the floor around her.
Before the creeping shyness can stop her, Elain climbs onto the bed, legs straddling Azriel’s hips. His hands come to her waist, settling her down on the bulge that strains against his pants. Elain shivers at the feeling of the rough fabric against her core, nails digging into Azriel’s forearms with a hiss.
Azriel holds her still, fingers trembling as they dig into her skin; he struggles to speak around the knot in his throat.
“Are you sure?”
The fire backlights Elain, illuminating the honey in her hair, the kiss of her skin as she looks down determined at Azriel, and with slow and deliberate movements, she grinds against him.
It shoots electricity straight through Elain’s core; the nights spent with her fingers teasing herself didn’t prep her for the way just feeling Azriel pressed against her would make her weak.
Elain leans over, capturing Azriel’s mouth with her own, greedy and hot. She needs more of him, and when she whimpers into his mouth, she feels him twitch between her legs. Azriel swallows her whimpers, his hands guiding her hips against him.
They don’t speak to each other - they don’t need to. Azriel can feel everything in the way Elain’s hands grasp at him, the way her kiss suddenly grows sloppier. She comes unwound with a cry, muffled in the crook of his shoulder.
Azriel rolls, hands cradling the back of her head until he settles down on top of her, hands working clumsily at pushing his pants down. He’d never felt this type of hunger inside of him, never felt the need to consume and be consumed so badly.
Azriel slots himself in between Elain’s thighs, feeling the way her muscles tremble as she tries to lock her knees around him. Azriel pushes her knees apart gently with one hand, rubbing circles onto the soft skin. Folding himself over her, he presses hot kisses on her chest, trailing his tongue to her breast, teasing her.
“Please,” she begs, fingers reaching to trace the edges of his wings, feeling the way he shudders violently. “Please Azriel.”
He obliges, lining himself up with her entrance; she’s so wet and warm that it takes every ounce of strength in his body not to slam into her; the feeling of her fingers on the soft leather of his wings is enough to pull at that thread, to pull him apart.
Azriel reaches up to take her hands, afraid that if he doesn’t, this will be over before it starts. Kissing each fingertip gently, he eases himself into her.
It’s nothing like her fingers - Elain has never felt something like this. The stretch, the burn - her back arches, fingers curl into Azriel’s face. He shushes her quietly, still pressing kisses to her fingertips.
And when he’s fully sheathed inside her, the feeling starts to morph. Azriel waits until Elain shifts her hips, rocking herself against him. He moves in rhythm with her, guiding her hand to his shoulder while his dips between her legs.
If Azriel could bottle the sounds Elain makes, he would - keep it close for the worst days when the shadows are strongest. Instead, he swallows them greedily, hips becoming sloppy as Elain writhes beneath him, clenching tight around him.
She comes undone again, fingers tangling in Azriel’s hair, pressing him close enough that their heartbeat seems to be as one. Azriel follows right after, hips still moving long after his release.
Both of them still together, fingers slowing in their patterns. It’s hard to breathe around each other, heartbeats returning to their own pattern. The tension in the air refuses to snap as Azriel pushes himself to hover above Elain.
The sharpness in her eyes is gone, replaced with softness that makes Azriel’s throat tighten.
Tomorrow, he’ll deal with the rubber band that refuses to snap.
#acotar secret santa#azriel#elriel#elain archeron#elain and azriel#my fics#not cod#elain acotar#azriel x elain#elain x azriel#acotar secret santa 2023
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I like the potential of elucien but they currently have no chemistry. How do you think Sarah will go about their story?
For Elucien it's really as simple as forced proximity. Put them in a situation where they're forced to spend "two weeks alone" together (quote from ACOMAF) and I'm 100% certain that we're going to see exactly why SJM mated them. Heck, give me a day with them alone together, no sisters hovering near by, Elain having no choice but to speak directly to him without the heavy shadow of recent loss hovering over her and we'll see it.
I think some in the fandom are confusing Elain's physical attraction to Az as proof that she has chemistry with him but when physical attraction is used to build romantic chemistry between characters it will always result in a shallow love story. Lucien did find Elain to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen so I'm not saying attraction can't be there but when you have characters giving into that attraction before something deeper has been established, true chemistry is going to fall flat. Having Az tell us he's avoided Elain for a year while she's still recovering from trauma doesn't call to mind that he's someone she was able to lean on, it doesn't make me believe that he feels anything for her because she could have used his friendship during that time (since she wasn't asking for distance) but he chose to stay away.
It calls to mind desperately crushing on someone in high school, where you watch them from afar, hoping for the day you can be together, and then finally you get your wish but you realize you actually don't know this person at all. You're infatuated with the idea of them rather than the real them.
I'm not saying Elain and Lucien have any sort of wild on page chemistry right now but it was kind of difficult for there to be any while she was mourning the loss of her humanity and Graysen. And though there was a little bit of hope that she was ready to move past that by the end of ACOWAR, she regressed in the novella Likewise there was zero chemistry on page between Nesta and Cassian in ACOFAS, when she chose to push him away after the war.
Characters can't have chemistry when they are ignoring their possible love interest, you actually have to see them talking.
As far as how Sarah will go about their story, I think there are a few options.
Right now we have already had Elain volunteering to help with the Trove, Rhys saying that Elain is capable of more than they've given her credit for, that gardening results in something pretty but involves one getting their hands dirty along the way, and Elain saying she'll do whatever is needed.
The options are limitless because of the above.
The issues they currently face are:
Beron allying with Koschei and setting his sights on Spring.
The NC reminding us that they need Springs army as an ally but that Tamlin is even worse after the announcement of Feyre's pregnancy.
Koschei preparing to call Vassa back.
Koschei trying to get his hands on the Trove to free himself so he might rule their world.
The NC could decide they need to utilize Elain's Seer powers and send her to Day Court to help her train. They don't seem very knowledgeable on Seers so Helion's library's might be the best place for her to learn about them.
The could decide a marriage alliance between themselves and other courts might benefit them and Elain could volunteer to marry Lucien because she's so over the concept of love and men after Graysen and Az's rejection that she's decided she'll simply focus on helping the courts rather than marrying for love (the concept was introduced in SF after all and SJM carried it out an arranged marriage trope in HOFAS).
They could send Elain as an emissary "spy" to the Spring Court. Not in the shadows or anything, just acting as their courtier, where she would gather information on the situation there, to be sure Lucien's reporting has been unbiased.
Elain could end up dreaming of the drums of Calanmai and find herself pulled to Spring on her own.
They could send Elain to the continent to retrieve Mor since Feysands daemati range does not work that far and have Lucien accompany her.
Or something SJM imagines up! I don't think any of us guessed how Nessian would end up being forced together in SF.
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Darling, Let's Run
Part X: Wolf and Flame
Summary: A month after her sister mysteriously went missing, Feyre receives a letter instructing she leave the village immediately. And the letter's messenger? A curious black cat.
A sequel to They Are the Hunters, We Are the Foxes. While I recommend reading it first, it is not necessary. My late contribution to @unofficialfeysandmonth2022 Day 26: Sacrifice
Read on AO3・Feysand Month Masterlist ・Series Masterlist
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Previous Chapter・Next Chapter
I want you, Feyre. Only you.
Why?
Because you’re my mate.
The conversation played over endlessly in Feyre’s mind as she stared absently out the carriage window. Snowflakes drifted loftily to the uneven ground the carriage bounced over. Each stone beneath the creaking wheels jostled Feyre enough that she worried the cat would finally have enough and uncurl from his spot on her lap.
Each time, he stayed. Unbothered by every bump and veer, though occasionally he did stop his purring long enough to crack open an eye and angle his head towards Feyre. As though he were examining if she was okay.
In fairness to Prick, she wasn’t.
Mate. Matematematematemate.
How was it that Feyre could feel that word meant something to her, when she had hardly any idea what it meant? She knew animals mated. They had mating seasons, in fact, but they were done for reproducing more so than pleasure or… love. She didn’t think it meant the same to Rhysand.
Mate.
“Did you know,” Elain had said once, pulling the weeds from her garden beside the cottage’s front porch. “They say that some birds mate for life?”
Feyre recalled that she and Nesta had been unimpressed by that fact. It’s what humans were meant to do in theory, after all. But now Elain’s voice lingered in the back of her mind like a soft ringing bell, for life, for life, for life.
It pared well, with Rhysand’s voice whispering seductively in her ear.
Say that you’ll forgive me, and that you’ll be my wife.
It had been a dream, hadn’t it? Feyre had been too afraid to ask him. And even now, she wasn’t certain what she wanted the answer to be. Did her chest feel hollow because Rhysand had lied to her, or because she’d left him behind?
“He said he loves me,” she said quietly to Prick. The purring stopped. He lifted his head, violet eyes boring into hers. She wondered what he would say, if he was capable of it. It certainly looked as though he was desperate to say something.
Don’t be a fool, probably.
He stood up in her lap and Feyre stilled, watching him curiously as he arched himself up so that his paws landed softly on the flat of her chest. He stood up on his hind legs so that he could crane his neck upwards to sniff her face.
She hadn't even realized she was crying until his small, pink nose touched one of her tears. Then it was replaced by something rougher, which felt like sandpaper dragging lightly over her skin. Feyre froze, finding the touch so startling that she couldn’t move as her cat licked along the path of salt water, and then another. Her body went taut and loose all at once. She could feel her skin burning, even as chills shuddered along her limbs.
It was only as his tongue crept higher on her cheekbone, towards the damp edges of her lashes, that Feyre jerked her arms up and gently pried the cat away. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, ignoring the way he was staring at her as she contemplated why she didn’t feel more disgusted. It was odd, certainly, but—
He’d gotten her to stop crying. And to stop thinking about Rhys, for just a moment, even if Feyre knew it was silly to assign the cat any sort of intention. He probably just liked the taste of salt.
“You’re such a strange creature,” she said to him. His tail thumped against her thigh as it swished back and forth, still staring at her so intently it was unnerving. “It’s a wonder you’ve followed me all this way. I wonder why you’ve taken to me as much as you have.”
That thought seemed to linger the moment she’d finished speaking it, occupying the space like an additional body. The carriage wasn’t terribly big, just wide enough for Feyre to stretch her arms to either side. There was hardly enough room for Feyre, the cat, and the thread she could feel tugging in her chest. Threatening to unravel.
Prick tilted his head. Eyes so wide, so expectant.
Why did he follow her around with such devotion? Why were his eyes the same color as—
“Ouch!” She hissed as Prick’s nails dug into her thighs, effectively breaking her stream of thought. His hackles began raising—Feyre’s only warning seconds before a roar pierced through the air, so loud it half deafened her.
Feyre barely had time to scream as the carriage suddenly toppled over.
Her body flew to the side, smacking into the wooden door. The sharp handle scraped against her side as her head snapped back, connecting hard enough with the window that the glass shattered. For a moment, stars flooded her vision.
As though the world was behind frosted glass, everything became shapeless. A smudged canvas, where the hissing cat beside her was just a blob of black paint. Her ears were ringing, but gradually the world took shape once more. The door, the one now above her, tore open beneath claws as each large as her hand.
Harsh light and blistering cold invaded the small space, alongside a soft cascade of snow. But those things barely registered when compared to the snarling beast sticking its gigantic head through the opening. Prick had gone hysteric, his body coiled as his yowls reached such a volatile pitch that Feyre didn’t dare touch him as she scrambled back against the upturned bottom of the carriage. Even if she did grab for him, she didn’t know where she would flee. The door on her side was wedged into the ground.
There was nowhere for them to escape.
“I’LL KILL YOU!” The beast bellowed through a maw full of yellow fangs. “I’ll KILL YOU BOTH.”
Her blood went cold against the winter air caressing her face. She was only trembling because of the snow, she told herself, scrambling for the wooden hilt of her hunting knife.
It had to be a faerie. Tamlin, if the voice was anything to go by. Deeper, gruffer than the one he had used as a man, but she could still recognize it.
“I’m s-sorry for stabbing you,” she said. “Just—please don’t hurt my cat.”
She dared another glance at Prick. He had calmed enough that the yowling had stopped, but he was still poised like he was prepared to pounce on the beast, his lips curled back into a snarl of nearly equal measure to the one Tamlin wore.
Such a brave, stupid thing.
Feyre fought the shaking in her hand, willing her rampaging heart to settle enough to think. There was nowhere to escape, no way to outrun the beast. If she could get on one of the horses, how far could she ride before Tamlin caught up? And far would he be willing to chase her? No—her only chance was to kill him. Somehow. Drive the knife through his chest, just like she should have done at the inn.
The beast gave a terrible laugh that rumbled the entire carriage, making the broken wood creak beneath his great body. “I’m not your mate, Feyre.” He practically spat the words. “I won’t take your betrayal lightly just because you’re a pretty human.”
“You lied to me,” she whispered, wincing as his claws splintered through the carriage wall to widen the opening, like it was nothing more than a cobweb to him. “You were using me to kill Rhys. You knew he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I was helping you,” he snarled. “He was the one lying to you. He still is. Or have you not put together that your cat—”
The carriage exploded. All at once, what was cushion and glass and wood turned to dust, raining down around them as a gigantic black body barreled into Feyre, pushing her out of the way of the golden-furred beast that had been perched above.
Feyre grunted as they rolled through the freshly fallen snow, until she finally came to a stop on her back, staring up into the face of a black, purple-eyed panther. Its breath warmed her face as they gazed into each other’s eyes, and she knew—half certain some part of her had always known—that it was Prick. That Prick was a faerie, and that faerie was Rhysand.
Run.
That was Rhysand’s voice, in her mind. His fanged mouth didn’t move the same way Tamlin’s did, and she couldn’t quite tell if he was actually speaking to her, or if her subconscious had just assumed his voice. But either way, as the large cat moved its paws off her body, Feyre scrambled to her feet. And as it turned its attention away from her to give a mighty, furious roar towards the golden, wolf-like beast approaching them, Feyre forced herself to assess her surroundings.
It didn’t matter that her body ached and her head throbbed, she ran.
If two faeries were about to have it out, she wasn’t about to stick around to be caught in the middle of it. Or so she told herself. Even as she darted towards the woods—seeing no other place to escape, since the horses were on the other side of the dueling beasts—Feyre couldn’t resist looking over her shoulder to watch their lithe, magnificent bodies collide in a blur of claws and fangs and horrific snarling.
Traitor, a quiet voice said in her mind. Her own voice, accompanied by the sickening, oily feeling of betrayal. This would be the third time she had left Rhysand behind.
After all he had lied to her about, it would be the final time.
Pushing away the part of her that rioted at the idea, Feyre forced her feet forward. Back into the woods. Velaris couldn’t be far now. A day’s walk, perhaps, even less if she ran. Which, from the sounds growing distant at her back, was the most ideal solution. Run as fast and as far as she could. Put as much distance as possible between herself and those beasts, and pray they kept each other busy long enough that she could escape.
The cold would slow her down. She wasn’t dressed for it. Tamlin’s tunic fell below her knees, and the cloak over her shoulders offered some heat, but the snow was already burning her bare calves as she trekked deeper into the woods. Would she last the night in this, along with whatever injuries she had sustained in the crash? She hadn’t had time to check the damage, but her vision was still blurred around the edges and the back of her head throbbed miserably.
Feyre paused, just long enough to press a shaky hand to the center of the ache. She hissed at just the slightest pressure, and her fingers came away slick with blood. She only gave herself a moment to dwell on it, before she kept stumbling forward.
Running through the forest had once come naturally to her, but now her senses felt tilted. Focusing on anything besides where to place her feet took an unprecedented amount of concentration. A shadow swooped overhead—a bird. She supposed that was a good thing. She was getting far enough away from Rhysand and Tamlin that the wildlife weren’t scared off by their presence.
The thought was short lived. In the distance, she heard a deep, guttural howl, like rocks scraping against each other. A cry of victory. Feyre screeched to a halt. The trees rustled above as birds shot to the sky, escaping the predator that would undoubtedly be pursuing her next. But which one? Rhysand, she hoped. Only because she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
There was one raven that hadn’t been scared off by the noise. As she angled her head, searching for any sound of the approaching faerie, their eyes found each other from where it perched on the nearest branch. It craned its head, almost asking, what are you going to do?
Run.
It was the only thing she could do. Pray it was Rhysand but prepare for it to be Tamlin.
Perhaps the wound in her head was getting to her, but she could have sworn the raven kept watch of Feyre as she passed under its branch. Like it was invested in what happened. She didn’t dare turn her head to see if it was following.
The forest had gone quiet again. Save for her own crashing footsteps as she staggered over rock and root and undergrowth, there was no sound of chase. Not that she expected there would be, when she was being tracked by the world’s deadliest, most skilled predators. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
If she was smarter, and if she’d had more time, Feyre would have tried harder to play to their superior senses. Use mud to mask her scent, a stream to hide her tracks, find some way to misdirect them. Now, with the haze setting in, all she could think to do was zig-zag through the trees. She knew it was not enough.
There was no surprise when she rounded a great stump and crashed into a small clearing to find a beast was already waiting for her. Like he knew all along this was where she would end up.
Feyre’s hand tightened around the hunting knife. “Did you kill him?”
“It’s been a long time coming,” was the beast’s cold reply.
She wondered what had happened between Rhysand and Tamlin, for it to all culminate to this. But more than that, she wondered why she felt like she would have rather died than find the horned, wolf-like beast standing before her. Blooded and tattered, each breath painted in the cold air so that she could see how heavily he was panting.
It looked like it had been a hard-won battle.
But Tamlin had won. Not Rhys.
The forest grew even darker, the trees seeming to wither into skeletal husks. Every hair on Feyre’s body rose, and she did her best to take steadying breaths. Letting her feet in the snow ground her, the ice slithering up her bones remind her that she was still alive, that the knife gripped in her hands could be used to defend. Protect. Avenge.
Where are you where are you where are you where are you
Maybe he wasn’t dead. She needed to see for herself
Let me find you let me find you let me find you let me find you
Rhys was hurt. Tamlin had hurt him. Targeted him. And now… Now…
It was not hot anger that poured through Feyre, but something ancient. And frozen. And so vicious that it honed her focus into razor-sharpness, despite the fog creeping in from the corners of her mind. She didn’t care that there was nothing she could do against the raw might and power of this creature.
If she was going to die, she was going to die fighting. For her mate.
“And me?” She asked, knowing that the tremble in her voice was no longer from the cold. Nor from fear. “Are you going to kill me, too?”
“I wasn’t going to,” he grunted. “Until you put a knife in my gut.”
Feyre retreated a step. Tamlin followed.
“I left him to bleed out in the snow.” She tried to shut the image out, but she could feel it seeping through her skin. Kindling that burning, brutal rage. “He deserves a slow death, but you… I’ll do it quickly. I wouldn’t wish living without a mate upon even my worst enemy. I’m killing you together as a mercy.”
“How considerate.” Feyre retreated another step, trying to buy herself just enough time to think. “You didn’t possess any of that concern when you gave me that faebane and told me to kill Rhys.”
Tamlin huffed a cloud of hot air, something close to a laugh. “You’ll forgive me for attempting an easy way to rid myself of the bastard.”
Easy. That’s right, this wasn’t easy, wasn’t ideal. Tamlin had been hurt, too—he was limping. She could see it now as she retreated another step and he followed. He was covered in parallel gashes from Rhysand’s sharp claws, but it was his left hind leg that looked to be in the worst shape. Maybe… maybe she did have a fighting chance.
Just as she considered making a break for it, to see if he could still outrun her with his injury, Tamlin leapt into the air. Faster than she could track, faster than she could attempt to run or evade, a blur of dark fur darted in front of Feyre, knocking Tamlin back into the ground.
She cried out as they tumbled together in the snow. Tamlin’s claws and teeth—meant for her—sunk into Rhysand’s neck instead. Tamlin held his jaw locked, thrashing his head back and forth. Her mate’s whimper of pain echoed through Feyre’s ears.
The snarl that rippled through the air didn’t come from either of the faeries. Feyre hadn't known she was capable of making such a sound.
Rhysand was alive. Barely. And all she could see were those fangs around his neck. Every word, every thought and feeling, fled. It left behind only primal, unyielding fury that unleashed from somewhere deep inside.
After that, Feyre’s body moved on pure instinct.
Suddenly, she was throwing herself towards the beasts that were easily twice her size. And she was climbing atop Tamlin's back to bury her dagger between his shoulders. He was so lost to his own bloodlust, the first stab wasn’t enough to release Rhys. But the second, then the third eventually yielded Feyre the bigger threat, and he released Rhysand in favor of rearing onto his hind legs, throwing Feyre from his back.
There wasn’t enough snow to blanket Feyre’s fall, and she hit the ground with enough force that the fog crept in again. She was too winded to take advantage of the vulnerability in time. But Rhys, haggard and bloodied, rolled onto his side to dig his teeth into Tamlin’s injured leg. He bellowed as Rhys used his grip to yank, pulling the golden beast onto his back while Feyre scrambled to her feet.
Then she was on top of the great, horned beast again, stabbing the knife through his chest. Over and over and over. Until her entire body was shaking. Her vision became spotted and all she could see was Tamlin’s blood, weeping onto the snow. A drop for every wound he had inflicted. Twice over.
A soft mewl eventually broke the spell of bloodlust. She turned her head towards the large, black cat laid out on the snow beside them. Ruby-red splotches bloomed beneath his body, too. But unlike Tamlin, his chest was still moving with careful, labored breaths.
For a moment, Feyre considered lodging her hunting knife inside of his chest, too, while he was weakened. She raised it over her head, like she intended to drive it into his prone body. But then there was a dark movement in her periphery. The raven. Hazel eyes fixed on her, patient. Curious. Waiting to see what she would do.
She should kill him.
One less faerie beast. One less liar. One less…
Mate.
A sob escaped her as the knife clambered to the forest floor, and then she was hovering over Rhysand’s body, assessing the gravity of his wounds. Long, deep gashes cut across his stomach, his neck, his back. She cupped his large face, feeling terror so sharp she might as well have been under that hunting knife, too.
Rhysand’s violet eyes opened to slits. He released a deep, shuddering exhale.
“Rhys,” she whispered. “Rhys. You need to get up.”
If they stayed, he’d be buried in a pile of snow by morning. He needed a doctor, if there were such things for faeries.
He huffed, some non-verbal variation of: I can’t.
And she knew she certainly wouldn’t be able to carry him. Not when he was this size.
“Can you change back?” She asked. “To Prick? I’ll be able to carry you.”
A small grunt. A weak shake of a head, before he dropped his face back into the snow. Shut his eyes like he intended to drift off.
“Please.” She held back that familiar sting behind her eyes, but could do nothing for the way her voice warbled. “Rhys, please. You can’t—” die. “I can’t—” leave you.
He opened his eyes again and made a sound in the back of his throat that was achingly close to a whine. Then there was a small flash of light, and the large jungle predator was once again a house cat.
Feyre gathered him into her arms as gently as she could, bundling him in her cloak. She imagined that fae bodies surely needed to be kept warm, too. Especially when injured.
She looked up, wondering how she would get them out of the woods, and saw that raven was still watching her. When their eyes met, it took off, gliding low enough that it needed to dodge through the trees. Somehow, Feyre knew it meant for her to follow. And she did.
The raven stopped intermittently to let her catch up, since Feyre was walking slowly, measuring each step to ensure she didn’t jostle the bleeding cat in her arms.
“Stay with me,” she begged him through tears as they walked. She stroked her fingers along an uninjured patch of fur between his ears. There was no purring. “You’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to…”
Feyre stopped at the edge of the treeline. From here, she could see the carnage of the fight between the beasts. Trees uprooted, the fresh blanket of snow stripped to the dirt, muddied and splattered with blood. There was little evidence the carriage had ever existed, from how finely it had been reduced to mist.
The sound of hooves drew her attention away from the wreckage. The coachman emerged from the other side of the road, one of the horses following behind him on a lead. She hadn’t caught a good glimpse of him in the dark, when she had been fleeing the inn. But now sunlight fell over his face, reflecting in his hazel eyes. Recognition stirred in Feyre’s gut.
He was the man from the woods. The one who had been naked in the water. A faerie.
Feyre took a step back, tightening her grip around Rhys protectively.
“It’s okay,” he called to her. “I’m here to help you.”
“You’re a faerie.” That word was beginning to lose its sting, she found. “Why should I trust your help?”
His eyes flickered to the cat in her arms and his jaw tightened. “My name is Azriel. And I’m under such strict orders from my brother that I’d sooner let you kill him than allow myself to harm you.”
Brother. She had thought they looked similar when she’d first spied him in the woods. And if Rhys could turn into a violet-eyed cat, then…
“The raven,” she whispered, staring into those hazel eyes with renewed fascination. “You were… you were going to let me stab him?”
Azriel shrugged. “I knew a mate wouldn’t be able to. And if somehow you were, well… the bastard deserved it.” His lips twitched, like he was making a joke, but she had the impression he didn’t find any of this amusing. She imagined he would have preferred to help his brother fight, than follow after some stupid human girl stumbling through the woods. “Come. We need to get him to a healer—quickly. Velaris is close now.”
There wasn’t time to hesitate. She could feel each of Rhysand’s breaths become weaker than the last. He’d stopped cracking open his eyes to check on her, and she could feel her own panic clawing up her throat, forcing her onto the horse beside the strange man who insisted she was in no condition to ride on her own.
“You’ll need to see a healer, too,” Azriel said, binding a strong arm around her waist as they started back down the path towards Velaris.
Feyre didn’t want to think about the sharp throbbing emanating from the back of her head. As the adrenaline wore off, it became harder to ignore, just like all of her other aches. The bruises on her back and side from being thrown around the carriage. Her exposed calves that had gone numb from the cold. She was in a state, certainly, but at least she was conscious, which was more than she could say for Rhysand.
“Is there a third brother?” She asked, trying to distract herself. “You were with a dog in the woods.”
Azriel released an exhale that sounded more like a huff of laughter. “Yes—Cassian. We parted ways in Carterhaugh.”
That seemed to be all he was going to tell her. With nothing else to divert her mind away from the pain, that fuzziness soon swept in with fresh determination. Distantly, she could feel Azriel re-adjusting her in his grip as darkness secured its hold. Then everything went black.
-
“I believe she’s waking up, lady.”
“Feyre?”
Someone must have secured stones to her eyelids, because lifting them was too great an effort.
“Feyre, can you hear me?”
At least she was warm again. She could feel her toes and fingertips, could feel a comfortable weight over her body—a blanket. A soft one.
Something grabbed her hand. She recognized dainty fingers, littered with calluses. Brightness invaded her senses as she fought against her heavy eyelids, forcing them to embrace the stabbing light. It was all too much at first, and she couldn’t see anything past the pain as her eyes adjusted.
But as Feyre blinked, the world slowly came into focus. A bedpost. A crackling heart. A woman, leaning over the large four-poster bed with so much hope and concern swirling in her large, brown eyes.
Feyre’s throat went dry. “Elain?” She croaked. “Is that really you?”
Tears swam in her older sister’s eyes as she offered Feyre a wide, watery smile. She squeezed Feyre’s hand affectionately. “It’s me.” Elain beamed, pulling her into a delicate hug. “You made it, Feyre. You made it to Velaris.”
-
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Warning- another rambling, self indulgent post.
So, I’ve been around a while and been a part of shipping in many different fandoms, and I’ve always been like ship what characters you want and be happy. We don’t all have to agree or convince each other.
I say this because I’m about to give my humble opinion on a few acotar ships, and if you are a g*ynriel who happens to come across this, go on and be happy with your ship. Write your fanfics, draw your art. I’m glad you’ve found a bit of joy and distraction from this crazy world.
Also I am open to all kinds of fun pairings. I mean I am writing an Elain x Rhys fanfic, and I desperately want to find time to write an Aida’s x Elain little fic in my mind. I like Gwyn and Tarquin though I have no reason to, and after reading Every Rose, Gwyn x Eris has made me raise my eyebrow. Elain/Mor, Gwyn/emerie, etc… there are all kinds of ships I could enjoy, but I like reading comprehension and good stories the best so….
Gw*nriwel
This is the one ship I just cannot do. I don’t know if it’s the power dynamic between the two, or the fact she is described like an adolescent in the book (coltish and young) but the thought of her and Az is just not my thing. I like the character fine, though she is written a little suspicious.
If this happens, I can’t see it being some grand love story that spans a book. I think it would have to be in the background like Amren/Varian or a hint of it happening in the future. I could be wrong. This will never be my thing, and I have no interest in reading a story about them. I’m not going to cry or rage. I’ll just move on.
El*cien
Honestly, I could see SJM making me like this fine. I like both characters, and I’m sure she could do some sort of forced proximity/ arranged marriage thing or something. But it would have to be an Elain/ Lucien POV book which means we wouldn’t get Azriel’s story. (It just feels like a book only about him would be out of place in this series)
If this happens, I’m open to it. It will never be my favorite but eh, I could see it being entertaining.
Vassien
Yes! Please! I don’t know why, but I really want this. I want to learn more about Vassa and there is something about Lucien finding his place and falling in love with a human. I mean I know he will probably end up in Day, but being chosen is what he needs.
Elriel
I went into acotar cold, completely unspoiled for the most part. I took it very much as it is read, and I just accepted Elain/Azriel were a thing. Then I started seeing the TikTok’s, reading the tweets, coming here, and I was like WTH.
I read the bonus chapter and what I got out of it was that Az and Elain want each other bad, snd Gwyn has some sus powers. That’s it.
When it comes down to it, some of the most beautiful writing/imagery in the book has to do with Elain/Az. And can we please have a friends to lovers, chosen, somewhat healthy relationship? Can we have a spy novel and learn more about the twins? I mean if they end up being mates, fine, but I want them to choose each other before knowing it.
There is just so much to do with them that would make a good story. Rhys telling Azriel to stay away, Elain’s powers, and her hints of being a spy, her being able to wield truth teller and killing the king by stepping out of a dang shadow, the court politics (you can’t tell me Beron wouldn’t want to find a way to get to Elain’s powers by declaring she is his son’s mate and belongs in Autumn) There is just to much more..
And honestly if this doesn’t happen in some form, none of their interactions, or that blasted bonus chapter will make sense. If it’s not at least addressed there will be so much left hanging that it will be ridiculous.
Also three “brothers” three sisters is not overdone, and it goes with the theme. It’s hinted so much not only in acotar but in CC2 as well, SJM might as well just came out and said it. The three most powerful Illyrians ever found each other and stumbled upon three Made sisters. Three stars, three mountains and this:
Two intersecting triangles. Male and female, dark and light, above and below … and the power that lies in the place where they meet.”
I mean come on…
But seriously ship who you want (well maybe not Elain/tamlin, please) but be kind.
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Mama Archeron and what she got right and what she got oh so wrong
This is an pro Elain centric post with a mention Elriel, so if you ship Elu/cien or dislike/hate Elain this will not be the post for you
Elain is pleasant to look at
When human, Elain had easily been the prettiest of them, and when she’d been turned High-Fae, that beauty had been amplified….but Elain had gone from lovely to devastatingly beautiful.
But she has no ambition.
“I would like to build a garden.” She declared.
“You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”
“I can speak to him(Graysen about the humans).”
“Using me(to find the dead trove).”…”Then I will find it. I might require some time to…reacquaint myself with my power, but I could start today.”
She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes.
“You(Feyre) should come with me(to the continent),”
“A quiet dreamer with a different sort of strength.” - sjm during the September 2022 interview
"A seer," … "The Cauldron made you a seer."
"I can hear the sea. Even at night. Even in my dreams. The crashing sea—and the screams of a bird made of fire."
“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?”
She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match.
Instead of it being her mother and Nesta it was a purring and sentient(?) Cauldron and a meddling High-Lord
“You are my mate.”
“You belong to him(Lucien).” “I belong to no one.”
“And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”… “He doesn’t know me.” … “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”
“So you will leave Elain alone…But stay away from her(Elain).” - Rhysand forbidding Az from pursuing Elain
#pro elain archeron#pro elain#mama archeron#elain kingslayer#pro elriel#Elriel#elain supremacy#elriel supremacy#death and his lovely fawn
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Did Azriel feel the echo of a bond when he met Elain?
Elriel Month, Week 4: Choice, True Mates & Balance.
This is obviously stretching what is written, and is definitely a crack theory, but consider the following:
ACOWAR
This has been analysed before, in terms of Elain's whispering cobalt dress and its parallels to Azriel's siphons and shadows, but what if that's not all?
Azriel, canonically, has "stone cold manners," so why would conversing with Feyre's sisters - human or not - be any sort of struggle for him, or make him so uncomfortable that he wanted to disappear entirely? Surely he has dealt with far more difficult people, and awkward situations, than two nervous humans who are inviting faeries into their home in order involve themselves with the Night Court's political machinations?
It doesn't make much sense to me, that this would be where he drew the line in terms of what he can bear, so what if - and again, I know this is a stretch - Azriel felt the echo of some sort of a bond with Elain when he first met her, though he didn't know what it meant at the time. He only knew that it was new.
What if Az (and Elain!) each had a "and there she/he was" moment, but neither understand the significance?*
* Elain not understanding what she felt would have been because she was a human (ie. what even is a "mate"?), and Azriel because he likely doesn't think he's worthy of a mate, so he wouldn't have considered it as a possibility, especially with a human. Feyre and Rhys could have been a fluke, for all we knew (until Nesta and Cassian), but at that time their bond wasn't known, anyway. Both the sisters' hearts were pounding in apparent fear, but what if that's not all it was?
We know from Rhys that faerie-human bonds are muffled, and he wasn't certain that Feyre was his mate until after she was Made. Could Az have experienced the same thing? He's been described as an "echo" of Rhys before, in terms of his power, but what if it's also in terms of being mated to an Archeron sister?
It's interesting to note that Cassian was grimacing, too, which could obviously be due to Nesta's blunt words, but again: they are mates, and were drawn to each other from the start. Could Cassian, who - like Azriel - has surely dealt with far "worse" than a human not being a welcoming host (his experiences wouldn't even be on the same page as Nesta with an attitude), have also felt something at this point?
In comparison, Rhys' only reaction was to raise his eyebrows.
I don't know. It could be nothing at all (I could be reading into it way too much), but it could also, potentially, be another parallel between Azriel and Cassian, and their reactions to Elain and Nesta: like when they both went a bit still at seeing them at breakfast, or when they both reacted before each sister was threatened and thrown into the Cauldron, or when they both wanted to touch and taste and smell them, or when they have both been protective, or when they both made sure their wings were displayed to full effect in front of each sister, or when they both went on "certain death" missions for them, or when neither could stay away...
@elriel-month
Also worth reading: this post, by @merymoonbeam, which ties in really well with this particular crack theory.
#elain archeron#azriel shadowsinger#elriel#pro elriel#elriel bond#carranam#two mate theory#true mates#acotar#acomaf#elriel theory#elriel carranam#elriel mate bond#elrielmonth#elriel month#elrielmonth2022#elriel month 2022#elriel crack theory#acotar crack theory
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how would you describe your fandom journey?
Mine???
Graduating from grad-school, April 2021. Have a brunch group and mention to my favorite of the three that for six years, I have read only non-fiction and it shows. Four book shelves POURING with it. Want to read something brainless.
She lends me her copy of ACOTAR. I ignore it for a month because I'm still trying to graduate/write papers/am generally just joyless. Pick it up during a slow work day- read it in 24 hours.
Buy ACOMAF, wait two days, and then spend a week reading it. I was brand new to SJM and the new love interest threw me a little.
Bought ACOWAR, ACO-NOVELLA, and ACOSF. Liked ACOWAR enough I read it twice before skipping the novella entirely and going to ACOSF
Poke around on tumblr. Liked Lucien consistently throughout the books, wanted to see what other people thought. Followed a couple blogs on all sides of the fandom "war" (am probably still following some vassiens and if you see me HI i will never stop because i cherish the premium lucien content)
Was frustrated with the characterizations of both Elain and Lucien from a few AO3 fics I'd begun reading. Started an early draft of CIWYWT
Followed Spell-Cleavers DO NOT RECOMMEND (jk- but this was my first elucien follow)
Scrapped CIWYWT. The first draft had Elain and Lucien in Day Court where he was training her for court warefare. He was in love with Vassa back then and she was trying to become human so she could get back to Graysen. I ended up just deleting the whole thing because I didn't like Vassa's pick me energy or how bland Elain was
Posted CIWYWT as you know it now, very randomly, and expected 4 people to read it. It seemed like elucien was a very niche ship (to me, a newcomer anyway)
LOL RIP ME
Meet LB, the only part of this story that genuinely makes me happy.
I don't know. I feel like I sort of ended up here by accident? I needed to channel all of the energy I had when I graduated and ACOTAR was literally the first series I picked up. I sometimes wonder if it would have resonated the way it did had I waited even a year to read it. I literally hadn't read something for fun in so long I think it just feel GOOD in a way I wasn't used to. I certainly never intended for anything else to come of writing fic or showing up here.
For me, it's been positive. I think I was pretty good early on in blocking anything that made me feel like I wanted to fight and staying in the tags I enjoyed. I don't lurk or like, intentionally try and hurt my own feelings. I also didn't come to like, sell things or create "content" if that makes sense? I just wanted to be unhinged in my own little space and to that end, I've had a great time.
#anyway#the whole separatist apologist timeline#a little lore#why did i come here?#i just wanted to talk to people about the first thing i did for myself in over half a decade#wish i could tell that woman shed be writing about mermaid dong#how she would have laughed
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Dreamer of Light
Masterlist
Word count: 1.3k
Chapter 4
"The Mortal Queens"
Over the next few days I had gotten to know better Rhys, Cass and Az despite Nesta's protests. Also Feyre has been getting significantly better by the day, still having some breakdowns, but nothing major.
Today they came with another, but this one was, well, a pretender, at least from my part. They call her The Morrigan who holds the truth, and yet, her words hold nothing of the sort, venomous and twisted lies plague her just as the harsh truths do. First it was hard to point out which of her words were true, but that's maybe only because she's so desperate for them to become the truth that she believes them herself. It's sad.
Now I find myself sitting in our drawing room in a light blue dress, all dolled up only for the bloody crowns of mortality. I sat on a couch near the window, together with Nesta and Elain, while the others were splayed on chairs near us. All of them were absolutely beautiful, especially Feyre. The tiara suits her. "They may surprise us yet." I interrupted the tense silence.
"You think so?" Elain asked while eyeing me, Nesta only snorted.
"I do." Feyre rose up from where she was standing, coming up to me and crouching in front of me the same she did when I was a child.
"Did you dream of them?" She asked with glossy eyes, pleading stood behind.
"The Golden Queen will show us the way." And will lead us to our death, but they needn't know that yet. It has to happen for this world to survive and so it shall. Fate will find a way to balance any of our interventions, anyway. "And then she'll die by the others." That left them speechless.
"I see. Thank you, Sienna." With that she squeezed my hand, let out a small smile and got back to her seat.
"You don't have to answer them." Nesta said with a harsh tone, but I knew better.
"I know. This is why us three need to talk." She nodded.
Before I could add anything, a strange mist filled the room, and our faeries gasped, seeming shocked, and understandingly so. After all, humans are not known for their affinity to magic. And yet, here they are. Seven Queens that stood proudly in front of us, and yet I found absolutely nothing regal in them, their jewelry nearly strangling them in hopes of capturing everyone's attention away from themselves, their true selves. Gilded dresses so big that they may as well get lost in them, unnecessarily lavish. But this was not the piece of cake, the fact that they smelled like magic, that plague of metallic and blood. Unashamed did they stay tall in front of us, as if they weren't already in. No, these women weren't here to help us, but to find weaknesses, they are already inclined in another direction, all but one. The Gilded Queen. Beautiful and shining, she looked like the most beautiful of suns seated besides these six.
'Only the golden one will help us. There is no use to tire on others.' When they first told me of their mind powers, daemati, they call it, I was not exactly thrilled, but it was perfect for these kinds of situations.
'I see. Thank you, Sienna.' Rhys replied almost instantly, and Feyre gave the subtlest of nods.
"You have an hour of our time. Make it count." The old one muttered, seeming uninterested. Almost bored, if it were not for the youngest of Queens, who was the most unnerving of them all with an attitude that even angered me.
And so did the show begin, or, may I call it, a battle of pretenders, in which everyone was simply throwing empty words on the table, other than the war which was not taken seriously by mortals. No, they needed something that would benefit them personally, otherwise they would leave their entire continent to die. This meeting was leaving we with the simple wish to drown myself in wine with Nesta at this point. Their words being thrown around, people's lives, as if they meant nothing. The audacity. With each of their suggestions, my blood started to boil more and more as they finally made their true intentions clear.
"What could ever be worth a war? Why would you risk your head, High Lord?" They asked, letting their little regal act slip.
'Rhys, don't.'
'I have to.'
'Half of them are already on Hybern's side, at least. They're just assessing us.'
'Then they'll see our true worth.'
Your funeral.
The blonde female, Mor, got up and held an enchanting sphere in her hands. "I am Morrigan from The War, you know I speak the truth." Debatable.
But then the sphere glowed and we could see what seemed to be a city on top of the mountains. It was incredible. Breathtaking.
"This is Velaris, The Court of Dreams and The City of Starlight. It has been our most kept secret for 5000 years. This is the true Night Court. And what we seek to protect." Rhys declared loudly while I started feeling nauseous, no, this was wrong. They shouldn't know. They'll seek to shred it like everything else. Innocent people will die. No. This was so wrong.
I tried to grip the arm of the sofa to steady myself, but then had another feeling. One of them has been watching me the whole meeting. The Golden Queen.
"Say whatever you have to say, child." She said loud and clear while looking at me, turning everyone's attention to me, while I gritted my teeth, feeling some sort of unknown power sweep through me. It was as if it tore up my skin, but it was gone as fast as it came. Then I looked at them.
"You all will never change your minds. You are imbued with magic and blood." It felt like I was finally able to take a fresh breath of air.
"Interesting, I've never seen another like you before. How wonderful." Despite her seeming goodness, I shall not forget, she is still one of them.
"For your people or yourself?" I bit back harshly.
"Sienna." Fayre said sternly, but Nesta intervened, seeming to be the only one as angry as I was.
"She’s right, Feyre. Everyone on this continent will die and they're just trying to strike the better deal for themselves. What kind of leaders are you?" The Queens now seemed scared themselves at Nesta's voice which was colder than ice, conquering only death itself.
"We will not take such disrespect-" One tried to argue back but I cut her off, reassured.
"You will die either way." At that they paled and everything went quiet. " At least you'll get your wish not to get older, your highness."
"Is that a threat?" The young one seethed now, the guards coming in between us.
"You believe that Hybern has all the answers, to eternal youth and power, but you, mere humans, have absolutely nothing to offer them but naivety and access to The Mortal Lands, so do not be even one bit surprised when they'll dispose of you once you've fulfilled your purpose. You'll be tossed aside. And all because of your fear to remain powerless, of death, but they come either way, even immortals have ways to die, so an end such like this is inevitable. And you're terrified."
"Stop it." They all seethed. Venomous women.
"You wished to hear me, didn't you? You got what you asked for." The Golden one smiled despite the fact that the rest of them were burning with fury in their veins.
"What are you, child?" Hey golden eyes sparkled with interest and kindness despite my harshness.
"A true mystery" and it was the truth.
"Indeed. Thank you for not lying. You were the only one who was entirely truthful." The others eyed her, but seeing the confidence she had in her words, they were starting to believe it.
"And if we give you our part? What then? Do we get to live?" They all looked at me as if their life depended on it. And it did.
"You will have more chances, but if they hear about this before we strike, then no." At that, one looked defeated, another devastated, two doting on themselves and their 'poor unfortunate souls'.
"I see. We will consider your offer." And with that they left.
It was quiet for what seemed to be an eternity, but then, Elain of all people spoke, leaving everyone in the room stunned. "I hope they burn in hell."
"From yours to the Gods' ears, sister." I grinned while taking a sip of my glass of wine. The first of many from that night.
#acotar#acotar imagine#acotar x oc#elain kingslayer#nesta archeron#feyre cursebreaker#acotar oc#high lady feyre
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@reignoerme tagged me to put my 10 favorite movies so here i go (in no particular order!!). also these are 10 out of i don’t know how many movies i consider favorite ones but i have so many.
-dead poets society (1989): fave movie since i was 11 years old. changed my life in ways i can’t even express, i would need a whole essay to talk about it. i’ve rewatched it a million times, and every single time i find something new about it that stays with me. timeless. i adore it.
-little miss sunshine (2006): this is one of those movies that changed my life, again. the feeling it left me was just extremely beautiful. i’ve made so many people watch this because it’s just !!!!! i adore it.
-butch cassidy and the sundance kid (1967): this is like. the greatest thing ever. amazing in every sense. robert redford is pretty much my favorite human being and he SHINED in this, im obsessed (also paul newman ily). i think i know the entire script by heart at this point.
-paper moon (1973): funny. heartwarming. heart-wrenching. i had no idea what exactly this was about before watching it and it surprised me for good.
-mikey and nicky (1976): i’m obsessed with elaine may’s mind. first time i watched this i gotta admit, it didn’t do much for me, but then?? i found it absolutely amazing, a literal masterpiece.
-my own private idaho (1991): i feel like i’ve talked about this before, but this film!!!! i feel like it has been with my pretty much half of my life, even if i first watched it when i was around 18 years old. like, when i was about 12 i became obsessed with river phoenix, and pretty much started watching all of the movies i could find of his. and this i could never find (i was 12 so like. maybe that was for the best). but i always sort of knew i was destined to watched it, and once i did it surely stuck with me.
-alice in the cities (1974): when i first had to watch (parts of) this for class like four years ago it didn’t do much for me. and yet then i rewatched this during the pandemic and. oh my god. i felt like i had been looking for a movie that made me feel like that for my entire life.
-the way way back (2013): dumb funny movie that meant the world to me when i was 14 and miserable, just like the protagonist. i rewatched it a couple of weeks ago and it made me so extremely emotional i went to bed crying. watching it for the first time was an experience i’ll never forget. truly made me feel much better about myself :’)
-real genius (1985): okay. another case of “this feels half like a warm hug and half like a punch in the guts” (which is like. the general pattern on this list. lately i’ve been going back a lot to movies that both break my heart and feel like a warm hug, at the same time, so there’s definitely a pattern here). i don’t even know why it breaks my heart but it does. it brings me some sort of nostalgia, like longing for something that i never had. i only watched it for the first time less than a year ago and have since rewatched it plenty of times. i feel like had i watched it at like fifteen i would’ve made it my entire personality
-lord of the rings (2001-2003): this is cheating but whatever. i will never forget the time my dad just told me “okay let’s watch lotr” and literally changed the course of my life. the return of the king was the first movie that made me cry, made me feel empty and also warmed my heart, all at the same time. still today i’d watch the ending and feel that knot on my throat that just. stays with me for a while. these movies are basically the reason i first thought “okay. i’d like to write/make movies someday”. i’ll love them forever.
im tagging whoever wants to do this ofc!! feel free to do so❤️
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I don’t think Elain will step out her comfort zone until someone pushes her to- - which is how I think her book will start (rather than her going deeper into the abyss like nesta did; interestingly, both r avoidance tactics)
Do you have any theories for how that push might be made for her? Or if she would push herself? Like what would be incentive enough for her im wondering
Another sort of related question-
Do you think that Elain should motivate herself to show her capabilities to those around her instead of them continuing to have their own idea of her. Or could her past with Feyre be a rzn for why others aren’t sure what she’s capable of?
Sry this is a lot! Hope this didn’t come off negative in any way!
I actually think we've already seen Elain step out of her comfort zone in SF, first with volunteering to search for the Trove, then telling Nesta that she cannot prevent her from doing more and again when she went to the Hewn City. Feyre offered to let her stay home because they know the cruelty of the Hewn City troubles her "but she hadn't hesitated to come." "Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was part of this court - and would do whatever was needed."
To me, in regards to Elain's character, SF was an exercise in "well look what we have here".
We have Nesta surprised that Elain didn't break down in tears at the mention of Graysen. We have Nesta surprised at Elain challenging her. We have Feyre surprised at the teeth Elain showed. We have Elain pushing for them to take her seriously which neither Az or Nesta seemed to do (and which they were reprimanded for by Elain herself and Amren). We have Rhys acknowledge that maybe they've all been stifling her but that she's probably capable of more than they give her credit for.
I think the natural next step to all that would be either for them to finally seek out Elain for her help which I imagine she would eagerly agree too (considering she was already there in Nesta's book) or Elain once again tries to volunteer as she did in SF and this time she receives the green light versus the push back she got before.
I think there's many ways SJM could go about this. Maybe Elain will offer to marry Lucien to form an alliance between the different courts and those in the human lands since he's now friends with Vassa and Jurian. The NC struggles with it's public persona and a "bride from the NC" playing nice with someone who represents the people and fae pretty much everywhere else would help their image.
Maybe Rhys or Elain will suggest that she go to Spring to verify Lucien's information. The author had the characters discuss how she might be willing to get her hands dirty so maybe it'll be under the guise of spending time with Lucien (which would then turn into love after an initial spat once he realized why she was first truly sent there).
Maybe they've become concerned about what Beron is up to and they'll ask her to head to Day to learn more about her Seer powers so she can look into the future.
As for this question:
Do you think that Elain should motivate herself to show her capabilities to those around her instead of them continuing to have their own idea of her. Or could her past with Feyre be a rzn for why others aren’t sure what she’s capable of?
I think that's what we saw in SF, or the start of it, though I do think blame for any misconceptions of her prior to that can be blamed on Elain as well as her sisters.
It's not that Elain couldn't have fought a little harder to be understood but at the same time, it's not her job to make a fuss to get people to see her. She seemed to constantly be in the middle of everyone else's arguments, Nesta with their father, Nesta and Feyre, Nesta and the IC when they first came to their house and at it was probably easier to just make herself as small and quiet as possible so as not to add to the discord when there was already so much of it. Some people truly do not like fighting so it may have been easier to avoid confrontation rather than demand they change their perception of her. Also, it's really difficult to change someone's perception if they aren't receptive to seeing it. There were little moments of Elain showing her intelligence, her bravery, and if the others still were stuck on placing her in a box, what is throwing a fit going to really do? It's not going to make those people stop and say, "wow you're right!" It's going to make them say, "look at her acting irrationally" or just ignore it all together.
For example, Elain literally said "I am not a child to be fought over" and "you cannot tell me what I can and cannot do", Az went on to talk about how Elain shouldn't be exposed to the Darkness of the Trove. Nesta went on to think about how she still can't let Elain look for it.
Amren then even told Az, "don't underestimate her" yet he never gave her credit in HOFAS for helping to kill the King.
Elain does speak up but when it falls on deaf ears, it's not really worth her time to keep trying.
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Actually to avoid writing Elain (which I hate doing if it’s based in canon), I would have Elain decide to stay in the human lands to be with Graysen, and be sufficiently safe with them. They just move up the wedding when the threat with Hybern becomes imminent. Elain would tell Nesta to go, and after the wedding is done, then Nesta leaves for the Night Court with the IC after saying goodbye to her sister.
Then I would get into it. Nesta would obviously still be a little bit “other.” Maybe I would have her meet the Bone Carver just for funseys. I would maybe... make her find some semblance of the trove earlier, having found it not because of the cauldron but because she’s already been blessed by the Mother from the beginning. That’s why she’s “other.” I would have Cassian’s reactions to this be a lot stronger since we’re contending with both a mate bond and the fact that Nesta is humanely fragile. I would probably have birthdays mean more. Both because we’ve never gotten on for her, but also because she’s HUMAN and will die sooner than the others. I will not let the other characters all forget that death is always right beside her. Let her conquer it another way and that be defying the odds.
I think Cassian still tries to train her but Nesta still refuses until she’s first caught in some sort of danger. But I also want her brain to me more useful than her brawns. Her getting out of situations just because she’s trickier than the rest. Letting the trove help when she gets them.
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[SECOND IKEPRI OC BIOGRAPHY]
Basics:
Name: Elaine Isabelle Devereaux
Name meaning: Elaine = shining light, Isabelle = pledged to God, Devereaux = banks of the river
Nicknames: Ellie
Gender: Female
Pronouns: she/her
Age: 24
Birthday: March 7th
Zodiac Sign: Pisces♓
Species: human
Appearance:
Skin: fair
Hair color: white
Hair length: long, reaching her knees.
Eye color: red
Height: 160cm/5'2 ft
Weight: 50 kg/110 lbs
Outfit: varies between all sorts of dresses. Mostly in colors of red, red-white, red-black or black-white. Some include corsets, lace or ruffles. They usually reach close to her ankles. Black leather boots to hide her feet.
Accessories: red rose hair accessory. Red ruby necklace, earrings and ear piercings
Personality:
Normal mood: often describe as a wild ride. Ellie may be beautiful, but she has a dirty mouth. Swearing, sass, and sarcasm are like second nature to her. However, you'll only know this if you've been around her for some time, as she keeps it down during social events.
Temper: she gets annoyed pretty quickly. When you go too far, she will start yelling, and very likely say very hurtful. May or may not feel sorry after getting time to cool off.
Strengths: pretty strong. Is very good at staying awake on days on end. Is very fast.
Weaknesses: due to her albinism, she is very prone to sunburn. So extremely sunny weather can become an issue.
Family & Relationships:
Father: former king of Rhodolite, deceased.
Mother: unnamed, alive. Was a maid, had a flirt with the king and ended up getting knocked up by him.
Brothers: Jin Grandet, Chevalier Michel, Clavis Lelouch, Leon Dompteur, Yves Kloss, Licht Klein, Nokto Klein, Luke Randolph
Sisters: none
Other family members: her uncle on mom's side, unnamed. Is mainly responsible for her swearing habit.
Enemies: Obsidian
Friends: as she is new to the palace, she doesn't have any friends there. She is only slowly bonding with her brothers, after all.
Best friends: none
Love interest: none
Marital Status: single
Pass-Time:
Hobbies: reading, taking a walk. Sometimes hangs out with Luke in the garden.
Occupation: currently being trained to be a princess... Though she does what she needs to do, she can't quite shake all of her vulgar ways, which does frustrate Sariel.
Backstory:
Elaine was born as an illegitimate child of the king. Her mother was loving, never abusive or neglecting. But she did not tell Elaine about her father.
This lead to the rest of the kids to make fun for her for being both albino, aka a freak and also fatherless. It made her only be close to her mother and uncle. Her uncle then proceeded to teach her self-defense and cursing so she could make them stop when she needs to. He did offer to teach her how to use weapons, she chose to learn martial arts instead.
Recently, her mother decided to tell her about her father. She felt guilt for not telling her daughter about it earlier. But she felt like she needed to, as her being a noble beast became too prominent. So she not only told her about it, but also informed the royal palace about her existence. Of course, Sariel came to get her the next day.
Fun Facts:
Ellie's crest animal is the cheetah! Her crest is currently in the process of being designed by a friend!
I think I'll have Ellie be like a lesbian suitor.
Ellie is the first and currently only known princess of Rhodolite. I'm actually not sure if she's the youngest. I honestly have no idea how old most of the characters are.
You can ask Ellie questions in the comments! Her favorite things or anything, I'll collect them and have Ellie respond in another post! 💕
#ikemen series#ikemen oc#oc art#ikemen prince#ikepri#oc intro#oc artwork#original character#cybrid#otome game#rhodolite
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A Court of Thorns and Roses
I tried hard to stay away. Not that hard, clearly. But I put up a good fight against it. I just naturally pull away from things when they get super popular for whatever reason… It’s like I get interested when things calm down. I did this with Game of Thrones and Breaking Bad. After all the people went quiet (in some sense), then I went and watched these. Sort of the same thing here with ACOTAR… but the series basically fell in my lap. A good friend INSISTED. And she let me borrow her book for free. If I’m getting handed something, I’m not gonna turn it down… for the most part anyways.
Now that I’ve gotten into the series… I actually kind of get it. It’s not great writing, but it’s certainly not terrible. But that’s besides the point. The books are just fun. That’s all it really is. It’s all just easy, fun writing/story-telling.
Let’s get into it….
(photo not mine... seems I forgot to take a picture of my friends book before giving it back... 😬)
A Court of Thorns and Roses
Rating: 3
Characters: 2 ½-3
Plot: 3
In this book, we have the Humans and then we have the Fae. There was an apparent war at some point, which we get some details of as the story goes and as the books go, which divided the land. On one little side the human’s reside, and on a much larger side the Fae reside. The Fae lands are divided into 7 courts: Night, Day, Dawn, Winter, Summer, Autumn, and Spring. There’s also a sliver called Under The Mountain. And there’s an island known as Hybern. In this book, we focus on the mortal lands, Spring Court, and Under the Mountain.
We start in the mortal land with our main character: Feyre. Fey-ruh. She lives with her two sisters, Elain and Nesta, and their dad, Mr. No-name Archeron. Feyre… I don’t know… to me she doesn’t have much of a personality throughout this book. Or rather maybe her personality develops as the books go. May be wishful thinking to make the book better in my head, not sure, but maybe Feyre basically couldn’t develop a personality with her upbringing and everything that happened to their family; and as the book goes, she learns what makes her, her. Might be reaching on that one, but I’m also not done with the books, so. But the family started off basically as the elites, and then crumbling into poverty where Feyre had to become the sole provider in her family via hunting and gathering.
I have to side step here for a second to note that she does have a passion for painting and colors and textures. It’s portrayed that she’s actually a fairly good painter…. But I find this very curious. 1. She talks about how she has to basically spend all her time attempting to hunt and find sustenance for her and her family. So where is the time to build this skill? Maybe it was encouraged when she was younger? But growing up is when her family was wealthy and a lot of time was spent socializing and politics from the way she tells it. 2. They have no money. She can sell the hides of the animals she hunts, but she makes it out that all the money just ends up going to her sisters for “trivial” things. So… it feels a little silly that somehow Feyre is a really good painter. I almost wish SJM didn’t make the Archeron’s like… borderline deadbeat poor, but I digress.
Now the Archeron’s… to hear Feyre tell it… she makes these three out to be pretty bad. But then they all get redeemed? Well not Daddy Archeron… seems like Daddy Archeron can burn for all the sisters really care, especially Nesta. Elain, the youngest, she seems to like the most. Elain is the baby sister and everyone feels this way towards her, meaning the family all wants to protect her at all cost. Elain is portrayed as the sweetest of the three sisters. She’s kind, loving, and just wants a perfect little gardenscape to tend. Which doesn’t seem that bad… but then Feyre goes on to mention that Elain is basically Nesta’s shadow, so at times, Elain doesn’t treat Feyre that kindly. Which I suppose isn’t horrible, but it’s also not great when remembering that Feyre literally does everything to keep the family alive and Elain just uses the monies. Now Nesta… she’s intense. Nesta is somewhat cruel to Feyre, which automatically put me off at first. Unless it’s Elain. Then Nesta becomes all teeth, claws, and venom. But still. Feyre’s telling of her sisters in the book is not a kind one, which feels almost disconcerting in the following books. As for Mr. Archerson. Literally useless. Lets his daughter go out and hunt in a dangerous forest. Doesn’t bother attempting to provide for any of his daughters… dotes on Elain because she’s baby.
Now, for the most part, the whole human realm hates faeries. At the point of where the humans are now, it’s just engrained to hate faeries. Feyre mentions that sometimes faeries like to cross the wall to mess with/torture/kill humans, but there’s an impression that this doesn’t happen to frequently anymore. But by default: Feyre just hates faeries. Which I actually didn’t really like.. I was really hoping she would have more of a compelling reason to hate faeries besides being “told” to hate faeries. I was hoping for maybe a background story… like maybe they were the reason for her family’s downfall into poverty (yes, sorry, spoiler there). But no. I just felt like this was a missed opportunity for SJM.
Something occurs which results in the “big bad” faerie to come into the human realm and steal Feyre away. This was anticlimactic for me. Now… once we find out what the whole deal is way later in the book… it makes more sense. But still, even after finding out, I’m not impressed. It could have gone down much more dramatically for one. And I really think this would’ve been much more impactful if there was some sort of tie to Feyre hating faeries so much. I was really envisioning some sort of tie where Tamlin’s family ruined Feyre’s family is where I’m getting at here.
Tamlin, the “big bad” faerie, takes Feyre away to the Fae realm, into his lands: Spring Court. Very beautiful. Very Spring. And then starts a weird mating process essentially. We meet Alis, one of Tamlin’s servants, kinda bitchy towards Feyre but we still love her actually. We meet Lucien, Tamlin’s second. Also very bitchy towards Feyre, but certainly way more interesting to me than Tamlin. Anyways… Feyre is so resistant… until suddenly she isn’t because Tamlin couldn’t give her a good enough compliment one day and she’s butthurt. major eyeroll
I honestly did not like a good majority of this book. I didn’t like the quick pacing to meeting beast-Tamlin and then slowed pacing while in the Spring court and these weird moments between Tamlin and Feyre. None of it really made sense to me. I got none of that sexual tension or frustration from these two. And while later on that’s actually totally fine… I think it would’ve been really good to have a solid building between these two, and Feyre to the Spring Court. But at this point, neither character had a lot of substance to me, and that was another flaw in SJM’s writing in this book.
We do learn about an important curse that’s on Spring Court, and a “blight” upon the lands. Said blight is actually a faerie named Amarantha, who we actually hate but I do think SJM did a good job writing her. She’s basically the queen over the land attempting to subdue all the high lords and courts under her rein. She’s smart, has to be, at least, if she subdued all of them and kept them as such for 50 years. She’s chaotic and psychotic, which we get more of when we get Under the Mountain. We also get to meet a very important character at some weird sex ritual the Spring Court holds: Rhysand. No. He’s not in the actual ritual, obviously weirdo Tamlin is. But Rhysand is important.
The latter half of the book, when we get Under the Mountain? Now that’s where it gets fun for me. Under the Mountain is where SJM ups the ante. The trials that Feyre has to go through in an attempt to break the curse and free all the faeries from Amarantha are wild. We get to see Amarantha on full display with her cruel trials. Finally, I’m interested. Finally, no weird mating dance between Feyre and Tamlin. All three trials are different and I don’t know which one is my favorite… but I will say the second one is slightly funny; especially when you think of all the TikToks and memes.
Spoiler: Feyre completes all three trials and frees the faeries. I won’t explain the trials. I won’t explain the ultimate showdown, and the little interesting twists. But I think it’s obvious that Feyre accomplishes her task and then some because there’s 5 more books (now possibly 6?! I don’t know if I need that many books for this series… but go off I guess SJM). Then Feyre goes home with Tamlin and lives happily ever after…. Or does she!?
Luckily this book ended in a good enough bang with just enough intrigue to where I wanted to see what happened next, if it hadn’t, there would be no way. I’m glad I slogged my way through this book to get to the following books because ACOTAR ain’t it for me. Obviously you have to read it to get to the better content (and slightly better writing imo), but it might be a doozy for you. I won’t say I won’t read this book ever again… because I do reread Twilight and that’s also fairly rough in writing and what not… but it’ll be awhile before I do. I know this is a common statement from the all the ACOTAR superfans, but unfortunately they are right. If you absolutely do not want to get bogged down with this series, I totally get that as well especially considering all the shit with SJM. Unfortunately I don't DNF easily... I mean I certainly came close, but then I got hooked. And here we are.
Read on beautiful people. 📖🤘
#book blog#bookblr#reading#reading journal#book review#book#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#sjmaas#sjm books#sjm
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CHAPTER 5 - page 3-6/?
original word count: 1507
revised word count: 478
click for ch 5's full comparison document.
original:
Prythian. The word was a death knell that echoed through me again and again.
Lands—he’d said he had lands, but what kind of dwelling? My horse was beautiful and its saddle was crafted of rich leather, which meant he had some sort of contact with civilized life. I’d never heard the specifics of what the lives of faeries or High Fae were like—never heard much about anything other than their deadly abilities and appetites. I clenched the reins to keep my hands from shaking.
There were few firsthand accounts of Prythian itself. The mortals who went over the wall—either willingly as tributes from the Children of the Blessed or stolen—never came back. I’d learned most of the legends from villagers, though my father had occasionally offered up a milder tale or two on the nights he made an attempt to remember we existed.
As far as we knew, the High Fae still governed the northern parts of our world—from our enormous island over the narrow sea separating us from the massive continent, across depthless fjords and frozen wastelands and sandblasted deserts, all the way to the great ocean on the other side.
Some faerie territories were empires; some were overseen by kings and queens. Then there were places like Prythian, divided and ruled by seven High Lords—beings
of such unyielding power that legend claimed they could level buildings, break apart armies, and butcher you before you could blink. I didn’t doubt it. No one had ever told me why humans chose to linger in our territory, when so little space had been granted to us and we remained in such close proximity to Prythian. Fools—whatever humans had stayed here after the War must have been suicidal fools to live so close. Even with the centuries-old Treaty between the mortal and faerie realms, there were rifts in the warded wall separating our lands, holes big enough for those lethal creatures to slip into our territory to amuse themselves with tormenting us.That was the side of Prythian that the Children of the Blessed never deigned to acknowledge—perhaps a side of Prythian I’d soon witness. My stomach turned. Live with him, I reminded myself, again and again and again. Live, not die. Though I supposed I could also live in a dungeon. He would likely lock me up and forget that I was there, forget that humans needed things like food and water and warmth.
Prowling ahead of me, the beast’s horns spiraled toward the night sky, and tendrils of hot breath curled from his snout. We had to make camp at some point; the border of Prythian was days away. Once we stopped, I would keep awake for the entirety of the night and never
let him out of my sight. Even though he’d burned my ash arrow, I’d smuggled my remaining knife in my cloak. Maybe tonight would grant me an opportunity to use it.
But it was not my own doom I contemplated as I let myself tumble into dread and rage and despair. As we rode on—the only sounds snow crunching beneath paws and hooves—I alternated between a wretched smugness at the thought of my family starving and thus realizing how important I was, and a blinding agony at the thought of my father begging in the streets, his ruined leg giving out on him as he stumbled from person to person. Every time I looked at the beast, I could see my father limping through town, pleading for coppers to keep my sisters alive. Worse—what Nesta might resort to in order to keep Elain alive. She wouldn’t mind my father’s death. But she would lie and steal and sell anything for Elain’s sake—and her own as well.
I took in the way the beast moved, trying to find any—any—weakness. I could detect none. “What manner of faerie are you?” I asked, the words nearly swallowed up by the snow and trees and star-heavy sky.
He didn’t bother to turn around. He didn’t bother to say anything at all. Fair enough. I’d killed his friend, after all.
I tried again. “Do you have a name?” Or anything to curse him by.
A huff of air that could have been a bitter laugh. “Does it even matter to you, human?”
I didn’t answer. He might very well change his mind about sparing me.
But perhaps I would escape before he decided to gut me. I would grab my family and we’d stow away on a ship and sail far, far away. Perhaps I would try to kill him, regardless of the futility, regardless of whether it constituted another unprovoked attack, just for being the one who came to claim my life—my life, when these faeries valued ours so little. The mercenary had survived; maybe I could, too. Maybe.
I opened my mouth to again ask him for his name, but a growl of annoyance rippled out of him. I didn’t have a chance to struggle, to fight back, when a charged, metallic tang stung my nose.
Exhaustion slammed down upon me and blackness swallowed me whole.
I awoke with a jolt atop the horse, secured by invisible bonds. The sun was already high.
revised:
[nothing to see here - the comparison software spaced it this way because my revision has significantly fewer words!]
#putting all the blank pages in one post so we can just get through it#chop chop chop#it's so funny looking at all that red#feel like I was revising like “icky gross delete” the whole time#ch 5#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acotar rewrite#sarah j maas#sjm critical#acotar critical#anti acotar
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