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mardereads19 · 3 years

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Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 3:

Azriel followed the carriage silently, winnowing from tree to tree, his shadows informing him Elain was in position and ready. He didn’t feel comfortable in letting her do this, but he also trusted her to do her part well. She was more than capable, more than prepared. He had trained her, after all.

Well, he hadn’t been the only one. Elain had revealed to him that she had been training in secret for a while with Nuala and Cerridwen. They’d done a good job. He made a mental note to give them a bonus come Calanmai.

Also to reprimand them for keeping secrets while being his spies.

The sun had already set and there was no moon tonight, giving Azriel the perfect cover from the males Elain had to distract and dupe into giving away what they knew.

“If these males are being controlled by Koschei, will it even make sense to kidnap them?” Feyre had asked on their meeting in Rhys’s study this afternoon. Azriel had been quietly observing and listening to the plans his High Lord had been piecing together. “At least, when Briallyn had control over Eris’s males—”

“And me,” Cassian had supplied from where he stood next to his mate, his arms crossed over his chest and face contemplative. Az had noted the way Nesta’s jaw clenched and her eyes shined silver for a second. The need to kill. The drive to eradicate the threat against her mate. Az had looked away.

Feyre had nodded. She’d looked tired, an expression that’d been mirrored in Rhys. The baby kept us awake all night. He wouldn’t stop crying, Rhys had told him earlier, but there had been light in his eyes, a quiet happiness even as he’d yawned.

Az had not seen his brother yawn in a while.

“And Cassian,” Feyre had added, a spark of anger in her eyes, “they would not talk.”

Az had agreed, “When we brought them to the Hewn City, they hadn’t given anything away.”

There’d been a silence for a moment. They had all, save for Nesta, witnessed Azriel’s administrations to the males of Autumn. No torture had gotten them to open their mouths, to reveal who had sent them after the mask. Feyre had pointed out how wrong it was to do that to them when they were not themselves.

Nesta had sat up straighter in her chair in the study before saying, “But what if they are being partially controlled?”

Rhys had raised his eyebrows.

Nesta had stood, Cassian reaching for her hand. Nesta let their fingers intertwine. It had brought a small pang of envy into Az’s heart. He’d pushed it away. “Bellius,” she said with disgust, “that male from the Blood Rite. He constantly mocked us, tried to rile us up. Sometimes I wonder if he gave too much away.”

Rhys had frowned. “Perhaps he wasn’t being controlled. He was only in on the plan.”

“He was being controlled,” Nesta insisted. Her gaze had been unfocused, as if lost in the memories. Cassian’s wings shifted. “He had that glassy look in his eyes that were on the Autumn Court males. I noticed it from the first time I met him. I thought he had been drunk at first.” She had blinked and, as if remembering where she was, had turned to Cass. He had pulled her closer to him, his eyes reassuring her.

Amren’s lips had twisted upwards in what might have been a smile before she turned to Rhys. “So there is a possibility that Koschei only partially controls these Fae, especially if they are far away from where he is located now. His grasp on them through his power may be less strong, perhaps allowing them the freedom to speak, like that male from the Blood Rite. What would you plan now?”

“I’m still not sure about this,” Feyre had contributed. “The Crown may not work the same way Koschei’s powers could. He could still have full influence over them.”

“Koschei is a death god,” Rhys had said, “I don’t think his power excels in controlling others more than it does in killing them. The crown’s whole purpose is to control living beings and, if it has that limit, then I’m willing to bet Koschei does, too.”

“I wouldn’t place a bet on a thought, Rhys.” It had been clear Feyre was worried. Her fingers had kept tapping on the table. Az wondered if it came as a result of being a mother, that worrying. That caring for the well-being of others. “If we brought them here, could you guarantee they’ll break?”

“I don’t think Azriel could get them to sing for us.” Rhys inhaled. His eyes roamed the map of the continent, focusing on the coast of the human territory. “If Bellius spoke to rile Nesta and her friends up, then only their own arrogant boasting will get them to talk. They have to feel like they are giving the information out of their own free will. That they’d be gaining something by it, even if it’s admiration or applause.”

Azriel had tilted his head, analyzing what Rhys was implying. “There is no one in this room that can convince those men to speak.” Feyre and Rhys were recognizable to all the Fae. Cassian and Az were Illyrian, which would raise suspicions. There was no reason for an Illyrian be on the mortal lands of the continent. And Amren and Nesta had as much chance of charming those Fae as Bryaxis had of calming people.

Mor would have been their best choice, but she was on the Fae side of the continent, too far away to reach in time for tonight.

Rhys had met Az’s gaze. There was a shine on them that often told Azriel that Rhys had an idea. Something in his gut had told him he wouldn’t like it. “No. No one in this room can do it. But I know who.”

“Stop your games and just spill it, boy. I don’t have time for this.” Amren had said, narrowing her eyes at Rhys.

Cassian had rolled his eyes, “What could possibly be more vital than this right now?”

“I have a date with Varian to taste different types of meat and I’m starving. If I stay here any longer, I might eat yours.”

Cassian had barked a laugh. “I wanna see you try, tiny ancient one.”

Azriel had kept his focus on Rhys. Waiting. Fear making his heart beat faster. He knew what was coming.

Finally, Rhys had asked, “How has Elain’s training gone?”

And now, Azriel was following the carriage to where she would be waiting for the Fae. Where she would pretend to be a victim of a robbery. A female riding a wagon on her own in the lonely road when a thief took advantage of the solitude to steal the resources she was on her way to sell in the market and make a coin. Az was to stay in the shadows. He was only allowed to be here in the case the Fae males wanted to take another type of advantage out of her.

Azriel fisted his hands. He had half a mind to destroy the males now and claim a freak accident had killed them rather than find out what they’d intend with her.

He stopped a second, telling his breathing to calm, waiting for his rage to subside. He couldn’t make decisions when his mind was violent, he needed a clear head.

He kept moving only because the carriage did, but he still wanted to spill blood.

A noise caught his attention. There, just beyond the curve of the road, was Elain kneeling on the floor crying as she held a few pieces of the wagon’s wood. Azriel fought the impulse to winnow to her, to console her, to hold her. Tell her everything was alright. That he was with her and no one would hurt her.

She’s pretending. Her cries aren’t real. She knows I’m here.

But it was difficult. His wings twitched, his shadows scattered towards her, but still hid from view. They were ready to strike at his command. Anyone who got near her.

Stand down, he said to them.

The carriage had gotten close enough to to see Elain on the road, see the mess of the wagon, and notice the horse that led it missing.

“Ho!” The rider called to his own horses while pulling on the reins. They stopped next to the wagon’s destruction. Pieces of wood lay around it and Elain. Rhys had taken care of that.

“Cover your face,” he had told Elain before sending a wave of his power to the empty wagon. Elain had covered her face, but noticed it hadn’t been necessary. Azriel had secured a dome of his own power around her. Wood struck a blue wall and jumped off harmlessly. Rhys had narrowed his eyes at him, “Disperse the wood, Azriel. Otherwise it will be weird indeed that the wood landed all around except for that clear demarcation of a dome.”

Azriel looked down. Right, there was a clear difference between where his power had encircled Elain and where it hadn’t.

She had sucked on her lower lip to hide her smile. Azriel felt hot in the face, but he didn’t care that he had made a foolish mistake to protect her. She met his gaze and he saw a promise there that he tucked away before his scent gave away the direction his mind had gone off to.

Elain turned to Rhys, her pale pink dress looking white in the dusk light. Rhys had estimated the Fae would take this road and would be here in half an hour. It was an isolated enough road, one Fae loved to use to stay hidden inside the mortal lands. It was surrounded by forest on both sides, the smell of pine was strong here, but it was a scent Azriel liked. The wagon was brought here by both males in their winnowing.

“Was it really necessary to destroy the wagon like that? Wouldn’t it have sufficed to simply break a wheel?” Elain had asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Rhys studied the mess in the road, his brow furrowed in thought. “A thief would have no need to go to all that trouble.”

“Perhaps not,” he had answered throwing her a wink, “but it just contributes to your woeful story. Make sure to cry extra loud.”

Elain had shaken with laughter and Azriel had taken a step closer to her impulsively. He wanted to lay a hand on her waist, to feel her laugh reverberate through him.

Now, he watched her shake in sobs instead. One of the males from inside the carriage stepped down and walked closer to her. He was dressed in cheap armor, dirty from use, and his brown hair was tied at his nape. The male surveyed the wagon, the destruction and lack of a horse, and finally glanced at Elain. His eyes roamed her body, but Azriel couldn’t tell if the glassy look in his eyes were from the control the male was under or for a different drive.

Azriel felt that hunger for violence stir inside him and fought with everything he could to keep still.

Stand down, Azriel repeated to the shadows when he noticed how they were risking exposure by getting closer to Elain. Hesitantly, they skittered back into the dark.

“What happened here, dear?” The male asked, though his voice didn’t drip kindness.

Elain put on a good show, sobbing and wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her simple dress. She had to look the part of a Fae in hiding, so the dress was akin to the human clothes this area donned, her hair was arranged over her ears, and the glow of her High Fae beauty had been glamoured to an acceptable degree.

“Good, Sir.” She stood and curtsied. “I was riding on the way to the market—” a sob “—when a thief came by.” Tears flowed down Elain’s cheeks so effortlessly Azriel wondered if she was hurt. Did she twist her ankle again while he was away? Perhaps with one of the wood planks he himself had dispersed.

Not real tears, one of his shadows assured him.

He didn’t relax.

“When were you attacked?”

“This afternoon.” She sniffed. “I’ve been here hours, seeing as how hidden this road is. I have no way of getting home.” Elain covered her face in her hands. “I live too far away, and I have an injury in my right leg that makes walking for long periods unbearable.” She wiped away her tears. “I stayed here hoping someone might come around and help me get to a place where I could sleep the night and hopefully rent a horse during the week.”

“Did the thief not take your coin?” The male sounded skeptical.

She nodded, “They did, of course, but I could work for a few days and make the money. I just need a ride.” Elain fidgeted with her dress, successfully looking devastated and scared.

The male gazed back at the carriage and the others, considering his options. Azriel held his breath as the male regarded Elain once more. His face revealed he felt superior, a male who knew he had control of the situation. Exactly what they needed him to think. He also looked like he wanted to impress this lovely female he happened to rescue.

He inclined his head to the side, a smile spreading over his face. “Alright, sweet face. We can take you.”

After a few teary grateful expressions from Elain, the male opened the door of the carriage for her with all the satisfaction of a savior. She climbed the first step, pretending a limp, and as she did so, she glanced over her shoulder.

To the male, she was looking back to the destroyed wagon and up to the trees in sadness. But her gaze met Azriel’s. She had know exactly where he was. He hoped she could read in his eyes what he wanted to tell her.

You’re not alone. I’m right behind you. You’re doing great, lovely fawn. You’re doing great.

Her head dipped in the smallest of nods and then she was inside and the male was closing the door behind him.

Azriel clenched his jaw.

Now the real work begun.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #elriel #elain #azriel #spy elain #spy elriel #elain archeron #elriel endgame #elriel oneshot #elriel fanfic #elriel fic #my writing

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hireath24 · 4 years

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Everything Wrong with ACOFAS: A Rant Part Four

Disclaimer: This is the fourth and final part of this series and will continue from pages 151 to 229. Part one can be found here. Part two can be found here. Part three can be found here. These page numbers come from the UK paperback edition of A Court of Frost and Starlight. This is my own opinion of the book - the writing, the grammar, the characters, etc. I won’t be commenting on anything that may have been plagiarized or that has been ripped off from the history of other cultures as SJM has a tendency to do. However, if there is something you pick up on about these subjects, feel free to comment them and I will add them to the post with credit. If you disagree with my opinions, I’m sorry and hope you see the error in your ways.

Page 152: ‘...felt like a decadence.’ I’m sorry, felt like a decadence? That’s not how you use that word.

Page 153: Feyre is drawing Rhys in the nude and all I can think of is draw me like one of your french girls Jack.

Page 154: Whilst I’m happy that SJM is showing everyone suffering from a hangover because of all the drinking they did in the previous chapter, I want to know why Feyre couldn’t just use her magic to get rid of hers. And everybody else’s. If she’s said that she could use her magic to remove the pain of grief, why can’t she do this?

Page 155: The paragraphing in this book is so messed up. I’m going to type out this little bit exactly as it is printed in the book, look: ‘But two massive figures filled the archway of the dining room, and Rhys paused.

Azriel and Cassian, having crept up on cat-soft feet, were also wearing their Illyrian leathers.

And from their shit-eating grins, I knew this would not end well.’ What is this? It’s such a mess.

Page 155: ‘Tradition indeed.’

Page 156: Everyone keeps going on about how wealthy the Night Court is and I still don’t understand where they’re getting their money from. Do the people of the Night Court have to pay tax? Does Rhys have an amount of money that he puts back into Velaris for the upkeep of it? And why is Feyre saying that ‘paperwork could wait’? Uh, no. No, it can’t. The people of her court can’t spend the Solstice like she is because their homes are wrecked, they’ve lost family members. Feyre abandons her duties as High Lady to fuck around with friends and we’re supposed to believe that she’s a decent ruler? I don’t think so.

Page 164: ‘What is.’

Page 165: So Rhys upset Tamlin when he went to go and yell at the poor sod over in Spring Court a few chapters back and it upset Tamlin so much that it made him throw out all of Lucien’s clothes because he ‘wishes to remain in solitude’? So, basically, this was all Rhys’s fault and he doesn’t face any consequences for it.

Page 167: I’m so happy that Elain is making it very clear that she doesn’t want a mate, but I wish Feyre would stop going on about how good of a male Lucien is to her. And she says to Elain ‘You couldn’t say a single word to him’ as if it’s Elain’s job to make him feel comfortable? Elain wants nothing to do with him! Feyre needs to stop pressuring people.

Page 167: ‘Solstice. It was Solstice.’ WHY

Page 168: Aaaaand they’re drinking again. Feyre abandoned her work for friends and alcohol. I’m not okay with it but I’m even less okay with how common and casual wine is used here.

Page 169: ‘Tell me what.’

Page 171: ‘Illyrian babies indeed.’

Page 172: Do you remember a couple of years ago when high school AUs were all the rage in fanfiction? That is what this book reads like, only high school AUs managed to make me cry on a few occasions.

Page 172: So it’s an ‘Illyrian custom’ for the heated shed, birchin, and a bunch of naked warriors ‘sitting in the steam, sweating’. But... Why? And can somebody please tell me what a birchin is?

Page 178: One of the characters gets red sexy underwear as a present, which is fine. But in a kid’s book? No, no, no, no. No!! A twelve year old could be reading this! What the fuck?

Page 179: ‘Against the onslaught of Nesta.’ Wow, SJM is really trying her hardest here to villainize Nesta.

Page 184: ‘rare, vibrant paint from the continent.’ This line was just thrown in here without any explanation at all! Why is the paint rare? How did Azriel get it from the continent? Why is it only available on the continent?

Page 193: These last couple of pages really did it for me with Cassian’s character. He follows Nesta home after she says she doesn’t want him to? He yells at her and tells her to ‘go somewhere else’ even though he knows she can’t? He reaches for her hand after she’s told him many, many times to leave her alone? This is creepy. This is stalker behavior. And if they get together (which we all know that they will), this is fucking borderline abuse. It’s controlling and toxic and unhealthy, which could be said about all of SJM’s romances but heigh ho.

Page 194: What is ‘faelight’?

Page 201: ‘Would it indeed be a gift for you?’

Page 201: Also, why is the mountains with the stars the Night Court’s symbol? What’s the history behind it?

Page 201: Feyre’s toes have ‘curled’ three times in this book and I’m just thankful that the Fae can’t develop arthritis.

Page 202: I can’t... I can’t read this sex scene. I can’t do it. It’s too much. ‘My breasts turned achingly heavy.’ OH MY GOD. Not only is this a kid’s book but.... It’s also just disgusting.

Page 202: ‘Brazen possessiveness.’ This can’t even be read as sex positivism anymore. It’s violent, possessive smut. Did somebody say BDSM? (Wait, wait. BDSM requires consent and safe words.) Also, if you want to write about sex positively then talk a bit about protection? And consent? And making sure that everyone is comfortable? And for goodness sake, don’t add this to a kid’s book. I made a post that goes into more detail about this here.

Page 204: ‘How you let me do such naughty, terrible things to you.’ FUCKING WHAT?! DO I EVEN NEED TO EXPLAIN HOW BAD THIS IS?!??!

Page 205: ‘Undiluted, utter predator’ You cannot look me in the eye and tell me that this was SJM’s attempts at adding in some sex positivity. To be honest, I’m, starting to think that this whole book was just fan service. SJM knew that her readers wanted the wall scene and here we have a whole book dedicated to the build up of it. NOTHING HAPPENS IN THIS FUCKING BOOK!

Page 206: Rhysand just climaxed at a picture of his child.

Page 209: It’s incredibly sweet that Rhys bought a house for Feyre. Really, no, it is. And the ‘build a nursery, Feyre’ is also sweet. But A) the money side of things needs explaining. B) Why does nobody want to be at the House of Wind and what’s the point of even having it if nobody uses it? C) Rhysand bought Feyre a house when many of his people are currently homeless due to the wars... Right.

Page 211: At this point, Rhysand should just leave Tamlin alone. I don’t care what his intentions were. And seriously, is this the way that High Lords act with each other? There should be guards there, there should be people there to protect their own High Lord. There should be advisors and- What does the Fae government look like? What are the rules? Is there a jail? A judge? The High Lords act like spoiled, rich children.

Page 214: ‘Alive. It was all alive.’

Page 214: Mor has an estate that sits on ‘three hundred pristine acres.’ I want to know the geography of the courts. Yes, I know, we have a map. But that’s all we have. I want to know about borders (and if there are physical borders that need to be guarded to stop people from coming in to separate courts). Is a passport thing or even papers required to travel between courts? Buckingham Palace has 39 acres of land, including what it sits on. Did SJM do any research? There are whole countries smaller than three hundred acres.

Page 215: ‘She didn’t want to take his joy away from him. Anymore than she already did.’ Mor feels guilty about her sexuality because she won’t be with Azriel and, somehow, fans of the book are okay with that.

Page 222: This may just be me being stupid but I’m confused about ‘Illyrian.’ Rhysand said their children would be Illyrians, Feyre calls him an Illyrian baby. They wear Illyrian leathers and follow Illyrian customs but here: ‘Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget it.’ What does this mean? I’m so confused.

Page 222: Do you know what might be a better act of feminism then having girls train to fight? Having the boys of all the camps be allowed to leave. Being allowed to stop fighting and go and have families.

And that’s it from me, folks! I’ve read this book twice now and my opinion hasn’t changed. It’s boring, problematic, addresses things very poorly. It’s too sexual, there’s too much talk about alcohol and sex. And it really did nothing at all.

Thank you for joining me on this little series! It’s definitely been interesting. Again, if there’s anything that I’ve missed then tell me and I shall write it in. I may do this again with more of SJM’s books but it’s surprisingly time consuming.

#anti sjm #anti sarah j maas #anti feysand #anti acofas #anti acomaf #anti acowar #anti acotar #anti roawaelin #anti feyre #anti rhysand #anti cc city #anti crescent cty #anti tog #my post

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wildfaeriequeen-blog · 5 years

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NEXT ACOTAR BOOK

Pt 1

There are just. SO MANY QUESTIONS. That I need answered.

So first: give me Vassa. The cursed mortal queen. We're gonna be dipping heavily into Russian mythology, right?? I mean: the continent? A firebird? A sorcerer who turns women into birds by day? Not to mention all the other women are turned into birds with "feathers white as snow", who "glide across the water", at a lake! We're gonna be reading us a fresh new exploration of Swan Lake, girls and boys. So excited!!! Plus, I feel like her story might be intertwined with the other queens. Don't forget they're still out there, one of them as an immortal crone who is probably just SEETHING with bitterness and a desire for revenge. This series, from what I saw in ACOFAS, seems like it'll be dealing with the aftermath of war and the consequences of decisions that were made. SJ Maas, in her wisdom, understands that you don't just win a war, "and then they all live happily ever after." There are scores of things to be reckoned with. The queens, and Vassa's curse, will be among them.

Next up: Nesta and Cassian. Nesta, who has never been an easy person to like or get along with, has become basically un-freaking-bearable since the end of the war. To be fair, there's a lot of emotional things going on. She treated her father like crap, for her own personal reasons, and then he showed up with ships and a firebird queen and reinforcements and saved their butts before proceeding to die in front of her, at the hands of the king of Hybern, who Nesta then killed. Or at least finished the job. In a pretty gruesome way. She never got to apologize (would she really have apologized, though? Nesta? Really? Maybe she thinks she would have), and also just, you know...lived through a war, during which she herself did some violent things, so...yeah, I think we get that there's lots of PTSD there. However, instead of attempting to heal, seek help, and/or deal with it in a healthy way, (like, you know....just about everyone else who survived said war, including delicate, innocent Elain), she's manifesting her trauma in a decidedly UNhealthy way, which includes moving out from her support base into what's basically a slum, sleeping around with heaven only knows what kind of people, frequenting bars, getting rip roaring drunk, gambling...oh yeah, and then putting it all-- the tab, debts and her rent-- on Rhys' and Feyre's bill.... because despite the fact that Rhys "isn't her High Lord" and nobody can tell her what to do, they're still expected to foot her bill and otherwise financially support her incredibly toxic lifestyle. That little conversation with Feyre where she acted like a huge jerk and made it clear she wanted nothing to do with any of the Inner Circle or her sisters, then wrapped it up by casually reminding Feyre, "My rent. It's due next week. In case you forgot." ?????? Yeah. I don't understand why and how people can like her so much and act like she's just the cutest thing. Feyre's nicer than I am. I would've marched right back there and explained a little thing or two. All right, sorry, rant over. Suffice it to say, Nesta is not the best person and is not in the best place right now, physically, emotionally, and otherwise. ANYWAY....as we all saw, she's getting her comeuppance and hopefully being put on the road to healing. Everyone's staged the little intervention, and she's getting kicked out of Velaris and sent-- with Cassian --to the Illyrian camps. FINALLY we're addressing this. Rhys has already stated that she's basically an Illyrian. She's got the temper, grouchiness and bad personality to match any of those Illyrian camp masters, and now what I would really like to see is some Illyrian butts getting kicked. Give me Nesta and Cassian storming in and punishing wing-clippers. Give me female training sessions! Give me the two of them raising young Illyrian males right! Give me destruction of sexism! Give me respect for Cassian FREAKING ALREADY! Give me Cassian ripping into a war camp about the hypocrisy of the value they place on training to be warriors and then trying to rebel after during an actual war-- surprise, surprise, -- some of their people don't come home. Deal with these Illyrian babies right now! 🙌🙌🙌 Whipping the Illyrians AND Nesta into shape at the same time. I am all gung ho for this idea. It's brilliant. It's amazing. I cannot wait!

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aelin-and-feyre · 6 years

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Santa Rhysand

Holiday Fic Collection #3: Feysand - Baby’s First Christmas

Requested by Anonymous

Cadewyn is baaaacckkkkkk !!!!!

Feyre wakes up Christmas morning to the same sound she has woken up to every morning since May—the sweet sound of her child crying. She's about to crack her eyes open and crawl from Rhys' arms when she feels a soft kiss laid across her eyelids. "Sleep, darling, I'll get him," her mate murmurs, sliding from the bed.

The High Lady of the Night Court nestles down into her pillow, fetching a few more precious moments of sleep in her warm bed. When Rhys returns, he is holding their little bundle of joy, rocking him lightly with a soft hum. Feyre finally rolls over and smiles up at her husband and son.

"Merry Christmas, boys," she greets quietly. She reaches her arms up and Rhys gently sets Cadewyn into her waiting hands. The baby smiles sleepily when he sees his mother's face. Feyre pulls him to her chest and he lays there happily, his tiny wings fluttering a little as he relaxes into her. His father settles down next to them, the sweetest of smiles gracing his features and Feyre would do anything to see that peace and happiness on his face every minute of every day.

Rhys places a tender kiss on his son's head. "It's your first Christmas, Cade," he says, excitement beginning to light his eyes. "Should we go see what Santa left you?" The baby gives him a half-lidded look but one side of his mouth tilts up and Rhysand takes that as a yes. "Fantastic, let's go!"

Feyre laughs as her mate scoops up the child and stands, practically running for the door before he stops and looks back at her expectantly. "I'm coming," she insists, finally pulling her legs out from the blankets and realizing that she's only wearing Rhys' shirt. "You go on ahead, I'll meet you." Her husband practically whines. "I think your brothers are down there and unless you want them to see me like this–" she gestures to her half naked body "–then I think you'll wait for me down there."

Rhys' eyes drop to her bare legs and he nods once. "Don't take too long, I think I smell Cassian's pancakes." The High Lord grins, turns to his son with an excited gasp—prompting Cadewyn to clap his hands adorably—and takes off down the corridor.

Feyre shakes her head with a little laugh. Those two are her life. Ever since Cadewyn was born eight months ago, they have been the happiest little family and it feels like nothing will ever change that. The Inner Circle fell in love at first sight with the new little half-Illyrian and are all taking their jobs as aunts and uncles very seriously. In the weeks leading up to today, the entire gang (even Amren) has been making sure that Cade's first Christmas will be fantastic.

Smiling to herself, Feyre pulls on some of her comfiest pajamas and makes her way downstairs where chaos reigns. Cassian is standing at the stove, pancake batter in his hair and flour all over his 'Kiss the Bat' apron. Amren and Nesta are scouring the presents under the tree, sorting them into piles which are scattered all over the living room. Elain is pinning a red and green bow into a very disgruntled looking Lucien's hair. Rhys and Mor are cooing over a crying Cadewyn as they struggle to strap him into the booster seat.

Azriel appears from the shadows next to Feyre with his arms crossed. "I told them not to." Feyre's not sure which pairing he's referring to, but she sends him a long-suffering look nonetheless.

"I'll take the baby, can you please make sure Cassian doesn't burn anything?" Azriel nods and moves swiftly towards his brother. Feyre marches over to her son, who calms down as soon as he sees her and both Mor and Rhys rush to buckle him in while he's momentarily distracted.

"Success!" Rhysand exclaims when Cade is securely fastened. "I told you I could do it!"

Mor doesn't look impressed. She sees Feyre and a huge smile overtakes her face. "Merry Christmas, Feyre!" Her words catch the attention of the others in the room and everyone repeats the sentiment. Mor envelops her in a hug. "The costume is all set," her best friend whispers in her ear as she gives Feyre a squeeze.

"Thank you," she murmurs back as they part, "Now I just need to convince him to put it on." Feyre smiles at her sisters in greeting but walks right to her son, sitting down in front of him. "Hey, Cadewyn, are you hungry?"

"What about today? Do you think he's ready for Christmas cookies today?" Cassian asks from the stove for the dozenth time. Azriel shakes his head resignedly.

"He barely has any teeth yet," Nesta reminds, "I don't think he could get through a cookie." Cassian opens his mouth to say something more but his mate beats him to it. "And no, we are not going to chew it up before giving it to him like a mama bird."

Cassian pouts playfully as he finishes up the breakfast and Nesta and Azriel try to pick drying batter out of his hair. Amren walks over to Feyre and hands her a small bottle with a bow wrapped around it. "The little monster's first Christmas present of the day," she informs. Feyre exchanges a glance with Rhys and Amren scowls. "It's not poison or blood. It's actually more of a gift for you two. The potion is mostly milk—with a couple additives—and it will keep him happy for the rest of the day."

Feyre is still skeptical but she knows that none of the Inner Circle would do anything to harm Cadewyn, so she hands the boy the bottle and he drinks it gladly. "Thanks, Amren," Rhys says. The ancient just shrugs and walks back to her task below the tree.

Cade finishes the potion in record time and it takes effect right away. A subdued smile stretches his chubby cheeks and his right dimple deepens. Rhys just chuckles and unbuckles him, lifting him from the chair.

"Present time?" Elain asks excitedly, coming over to grab her nephew. Rhysand hands him over easily and grabs a pancake for both him and Feyre. Everyone gathers around the tree and Cassian passes around the platter of pancakes for breakfast.

Amren sits next to the biggest stack of gifts and grabs the one from the top. She hands it to Cadewyn in Elain's lap and Mor helps him rip open the wrappings to reveal a set of plastic training knives from Azriel and Cassian. Both Illyrians are grinning wickedly.

"Never too early to start with the knives," Azriel defends, casually twirling Truth Teller as he and Cassian elbow each other jokingly.

Feyre just rolls her eyes and takes the knives from her son. "I'll give them to him when he knows how to walk." The brothers aren't even listening anymore as they begin a contest on who can stuff more pancakes in their mouths.

Amren passes the next present to Elain for Cade to open and Feyre slinks back to stand with Rhys. He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her close. "I love this," he murmurs next to her ear.

"Me too," Feyre replies, leaning her head against his chest and smiling happily. Then Feyre remembers her plan. "Follow me," she says while everyone admires the set of booties Mor gave Cadewyn. The High Lady grabs his hand and starts pulling him from the room, Rhys following completely confused. They enter one of the guest bedrooms and—a Santa costume is laid out on the bed.

"No. No way," Rhys exclaims right away, already backing towards the door. Feyre clutches his hand tightly, pulling him towards the bed. "Cassian and Azriel will never let me live it down!" He pleads.

"Cassian is gonna wear it next Christmas and Azriel the one after that," Feyre counters. "You all get a turn." She picks up the red pointy hat with a white fur puff ball on the end and pulls it over his head. Linking her hands behind his neck, she leans up to kiss his pouting lips. "If you be Santa for the morning..." Rhys raises an eyebrow and she leans up to whisper in his ear, "I'll be Mrs Claus tonight."

Her husband shivers as she lightly scraps her teeth along the shell of his ear. "Fine," he grumbles, stealing a kiss from her lips before extricating himself from her hold and marching over like a dutiful soldier to adorn the costume.

Feyre smiles proudly and goes back to the living room to wait. Ten minutes later, Rhys appears from the shadows of the fireplace in all his Santa Claus glory—beard, belly, and all. Cassian literally chokes on his mouthful of pancakes when he sees his High Lord. Azriel thumps him on the back while he just stares in wonderment.

Cadewyn, however, smiles brightly, clapping his hands. Rhys tromps over to him and grabs the last present from the pile. He takes his son from Elain and sits him on his lap, placing the present in his tiny hands.

Rhysand catches Feyre's gaze and rolls his eyes, though she can still see the joy and laughter in his shrouded features. "Ho, ho, ho!" Her mate proclaims, causing Cadewyn to giggle while he tugs on the long white beard. "Merry Christmas, little boy, look what I've brought you!"

Feyre walks over to kneel in front of them, helping Cade to pull out the tissue paper. She reaches in the bag and pulls out a 'Baby's First Christmas' ornament. She hands it to her son and he inspects it with comical concentration.

Feyre had painted the ornament herself, after Rhys cut out the shape. It depicts the three of them inside a star frame. It has his name on the top and a quote on the bottom that says, 'Always dream, the stars will listen'. And on the back—which Rhys hasn't seen yet—Feyre wrote with ink, 'First Christmas, with a thousand more to come'.

Rhysand reads the quote over his son's shoulder and looks up at Feyre with tears in his eyes. They have so much time that they never thought they would have—with each other and with their family. Neither Rhys nor Feyre forget how lucky they are every single day to be alive, to be together, to be happy.

Clearing his throat, Rhys turns back to his son. "Let's hang that on the tree, shall we?" He lifts Cadewyn up and carries him over to the pine tree, already sagging with the weight of half a millennia worth of ornaments and decorations. Their family gathers around and starts to point to places it could hang. Finally, Rhys directs Cadewyn towards a small opening near the star topper.

It takes a couple of tries but the baby finally gets it hooked on a branch and everyone cheers. Mor takes Cade to watch the snow falling outside and Rhys lopes back over to Feyre. He nuzzles her cheek with his rough beard. "I love our family." He places a kiss on her right cheek. "I love our son." Another on her left cheek. "I love you," Rhys murmurs against her lips and Feyre can only imagine the countless Christmas's they have ahead of them, and the endless love they will share together, with all their children yet to come.

Holiday Collection Prompt List

Holiday Masterlist

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