#justice for lady vanserra!!!!

[rhysands-rightknee]

no but i find it so bittersweet how feyre will have the ability to enjoy those moments where nyx glows (assuming that drop of power from the day court is passed on) whereas the lady of the autumn court probably didn’t.

as the son of helion and direct heir of the day court, lucien most definitely has the ability to glow but when have we seen feyre light up when that power is not used as a weapon? when she’s safe, content, and happy. everything lucien is not, and we know this when feyre entered his mind and only felt severe pain and loneliness (acomaf).

there’s a theory someone on here wrote (that I could not find so if this is you please lmk to link it) that theorized why eris was so cruel. the future heir of the autumn court knew lucien was not the child of his father and in turn no threat to his power. lucien’s skin color was one thing but the glow he probably radiated as a happy child (exploring the forests and having a loving mother) gave him away completely. how do you protect a younger sibling from a cruel father that would not only kill his youngest child but his wife who deceived him? you hinder the day court ability by eliminating what makes a young child happy and safe to protect him and their mother. it’s no surprise lady vanserra put up centuries of abuse to protect her children. eris saw all of that growing up and when she could no longer protect lucien, eris ensured his brother would make it out alive to the spring court. anyways, I feel for the young child (and adult now) who thinks his older sibling hates him when that cruelty was out of love and protection.

#eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #justice for lady vanserra!!!! #lady vanserra #autumn court #feyre archeron #nyx archeron #helion #helion spell cleaver #acotar #sarah j maas

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Autumn Burns Eternal // A Lady of Autumn Story

Chapter 1: Heartwood

She had a name.

Not that anybody in the room was using it.

But she had a name.

#lady of autumn #acotar fanfiction #loa x helion #the autumn court #justice for loa #vanserracore #slow burn #female rage #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra

[mxtantrights]

where you go, I go

a/n: okay so while I'm writing this whole series for azriel just know that I had this other recurring dream about a plot like this. I couldn't really make it a fully fleshed out story with a happy ending so I decided to type it all out and make it a one-shot with angst and not a lot of comfort (this is your warning, this doesn't end happily) anyways with all of that said, if you decide to read this please enjoy and tell me what you think! <333 also happy valentines day <333

azriel x assassin!fem!reader

5.1k words

The day court was home to many things. Vibrant colors, warm waters, ancient books and of course the very ancient and magical day blade. It's your job to know where that this is at all times.

You can't possibly understand why the shadow singer would try to steal it. Try being the operative word here. While you did sense him enter your court and break into the room where the blade was, it wouldn't have mattered.

Seeing as it is your job to protect the blade at all costs, it never leaves your sight. But that didn't mean you couldn't have fun with those who wanted so badly to get it.

In your pocket you feel a piece of paper appearing suddenly. You reach inside and unfold it. It's Helion. He's requesting your presence. You smile to yourself, this would be fun.

You leave your hiding place, the palace had many hidden rooms and hallways, and walk over to Helion's day room. As you approach from the hallway you can hear multiple conversations being had.

The door is closed so you open it slightly.

"There she is! Come in and greet my guests!" he says happily.

You make sure you face is kept neutral. You had an image to upkeep in this court.

The people respect you and fear you in the same breath. You don't go around killing people but you do often get justice in ways that aren't in the parameters of the law. Whether that be stringing up robbers and looters from their pants, or burning down the houses of dirty criminals.

You keep your eyes straight, not looking any of his guests in the eye. You walk until you are standing behind Helion who sits in his usual seat.

"I was just telling Feyre that I enjoy the new company. This is the inner circle." he says to you.

You nod once.

"She doesn't talk?" Nesta asks.

You know all of them. It's your duty to know The Who's who of the courts. The inner circle of the night court. High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre-Curse breaker. Her sisters Elaine and Nesta. Rhysand's brothers Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan, past fiancee of Eris Vanserra. Amren, a mythical creature of serious power.

Helion laughs at Nesta's question. He knows you talk. He knows you very well, seeing as he practically raised you. But that information isn't public knowledge.

"She does, but not when theres something wrong." Helion answers.

You look at all of them now. How the girl closest to the shadow singer, Elaine, looks worried. And it's quick, you almost don't catch it, but you're so good at your job at this point.

"Trouble in the day court?" Rhysand says.

You lean over and whisper into Helion's ear about the blade. How the shadow singer came here to steal it, on a mission from his high lord. How he thinks he got away with it.

The room goes quiet as you pull back and Helion sits back in his chair. He loves the dramatics you pull off every single time someone tries to take the blade. The last person you caught was really delighted to be drowned in glitter, confetti and manure.

"Is there something you're forgetting?" Helion asks.

Rhysand looks at his inner circle with an incredulous smile. Then he looks to you, no doubt trying to read your mind. You can't imagine this will go over well either.

You can't feel it. The daemati powers that certain fae have don't work on you. You're not really sure why. Might have something to do with your unknown lineage. Or your overall hardheadedness-so Helion says.

Rhysand cocks his head to the side at your unmoving posture. He's still looking at you. You however are taking in the shadow singer. He's sitting there, not bothering to look at anyone. He must really think he got the blade.

"What would that be?" Feyre asks this time.

"Well, when you want something that another has you usually ask." Helion says.

At that everyone at the table grows grim. Caught red handed is what it seems like. You still manage to hide you smile though.

"Helion..." Rhysand starts.

"If you were anyone else I would have you locked up already. But lucky for me my security system is top notch." Helion smiles and grabs his glass for another sip of what could only be wine.

At his words the shadow singer now looks at the high lord. Your high lord. His face bares no emotion, like he can't afford to give a way a secret or smile.

You've heard about his reputation. But at this point that's all it is. He couldn't even steal from you correctly. This has to be the most interesting thing that's happened this year. You don't get around to much outsider business, you tend to stay out of it.

"I don't think it is." the shadow singer says.

Helion stifles a laugh. But you can hear it. And you know if you can hear it they all can. The room is big but not big enough that guests at a table can't hear things.

"Care to relieve them of their misery?" he looks up to you and asks.

You didn't really want to. But then again you'd have to play nice with them. Helion seems to like this group. Or most likely, his son is friends with this group and he wants to be friends with his son.

You sigh, "Take out the blade."

You watch in amusement as everyone at the table looks at each other. As if they all don't know what they really came here for. The shadow singer though, he's different. He's looking right at you.

His shadows materialize the blade right on the table for everyone to see. Cassian, gives him a look. But Azriel doesn't seem to see it or care.

"That's not the blade." Helion quips.

You call the blade to you with your powers. Being gifted with the ability to control sun made objects is fun most of the time. Most living things are sun made in a sense. So really you could control all things, to a certain extent.

The blade comes flying into your hand. As soon as it makes contact with your skin it transforms. The metal of the blade turns into a vibrant green stem. And the helm turns into the face of a sunflower.

Azriel seems to go through a range of emotions. First confusion. Then understanding. And then the last one, well you can't actually pin down the last one. You've gotten good at reading people but he's harder than others.

"The blade is safe in the day court, where it will remain until you ask for it." Helion says.

Rhysand lets of a breath, "I am sorry about lying, but we're short on time."

"And I thought our alliance was stronger than that. I am sorry too." Helion replies.

Helion stands from his seat, causing the others to match his actions. The sound of chairs on marble floors reaches your ears. You take a step back and cross your hands behind your back.

"We need the blade for a mission." Feyre speaks.

"It could be a simple mission or the end of the world. The fact that you have no respect to ask me tells me everything I need to know." Helion says casually.

You know that he is hurt by their lying. It's not deep, but it's there. He thought he could trust them. He thought because they had good relations with him before that they were better than the actions they are displaying right now.

Of course you know of the good bond between them. Which is why you don't understand why they didn't just ask. Unless there is a well justified reason. Why not ask the high lord for the blade unless he was implicated somehow.

How could Helion be implicated in a mission from the night court. He doesn't know anything, or he would have offered them the blade himself. No this is something he's not at the center of. But it still concerns him.

Lucien. You look at the guests around the room. He is no where to be found. True he's not part of the inner circle. He's an emissary. But if it was something the inner circle could simply ask Helion for, why not butter him up with his son?

Lucien may or may not know what going on.

"Where's Lucien?" you ask.

At you question all of the heads move to you. Right, you hadn't spoken to them this whole time. Well you weren't going to give them a smile and greet them kindly.

"What business do you have with him?" Nesta asks.

"He's in Spring. Managing relations." Rhysand answers.

You nod your head. Spring. If that answer can even be trusted. Let's say you do trust it for the moment.

The inner circle needs the day blade. They didn't want to ask for it. They didn't let Lucien come.

"Were you planning on returning it?" you ask again.

Nesta, rolls her eyes at your question. You can't help the giddiness you feel of getting under her skin. You hardly did anything to warrant it. But it felt kind of good.

"As soon as we were done." Azriel answers this time.

You don't ignore the stress he puts not he word soon. You also don't ignore the way his eyes seem to never leave yours.

"That blade is our most powerful weapon. We don't just give it out to anyone." Helion chimes in.

He maneuvers around his chair and stands behind you. When he grips both of your shoulders with his hands, you can tell he's smiling even if you can't see him.

"But I will let you use it," Helion continues, "on one condition."

"Go ahead." Rhysand says.

"Wherever the blade goes, she goes." Helion says.

"That won't be necessary." Nesta says.

At the same time Cassian says, "That's odd."

Helion shrugs his shoulders and lets go of you. He leans into your ear to whisper his next words very carefully. When you understand him and what he wants, you nod your head only once.

He grabs the sunflower from your hands as you uncross them from behind you. Helion stands next to you now. You watch as Helion brings the flower up to his nose and gives it a sniff.

"We agree to those terms." Azriel speaks up.

"Woah hold on-" Rhysand tries to cut in.

"Great. I think this will be beneficial to both courts." your high lord agrees.

You turn to face him now, your back towards the guests. Helion was looking at you with a very faint smile. You heard every word he whispered to you. And you understand the reason why: Family.

What you don't get it is why he won't just speak to Lucien himself. Why play nice with a high lord that knows his son when he can just reach out to him? Invite him to the day court or send him a letter.

Everyone in this room knows Lucien is Helion's son, except Lucien. And now your mission is to tell him so that he might finally have a true place to call home.

Helion wouldn't so easily agree to lending out the blade like this if it weren't for Lucien. And the night court wouldn't try to steal it if Lucien did know, because he could just ask on their behalf.

Your shoulders sag at the thought. You had no interactions with Lucien. You only ever heard of him from Helion and he only started referring to him as his son a couple of months ago.

It'll be you. You'll be the one to see him, come eye to eye to him, and tell him the truth.

You can see it in his eyes. The sadness. You'd do anything for him. He's a father figure to you. And you'll see this through, for his sake and Lucien's too.

"Promise me you'll smile a little bit during your trip." Helion says.

"The Sun Wraith doesn't smile." you answer.

"You're the Sun Wraith?" Cassian's voice asks.

You turn around and face the general. It's all over his face. The look of shock. It wasn't hard to become something of a legend in this court and the ones surrounding it.

"Even people in the night court are scared of you." Nesta says.

On her face seems to be another emotion. Not fear. Not shock. Something lighter amongst the surface. Admiration maybe? You aren't too sure.

"I'll grab my things." you say to no one in particular.

"And the blade." Azriel's voice sounds.

"I never go anywhere without it." you say, reaching behind you.

Grabbing the flaps of your yellow vest you flip it over and your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade. You pull it out for all of them to see.

"Best security in all of the courts." Helion jokes.

-

THREE WEEKS LATER

The mission has barely begun and you hate it here. You hate it in the night court. The days are shorter and you feel pale without even looking into a mirror most days. Nothing beats the sun of the day court on your skin.

Amren had told you it would get better. After your first meeting she had taken a liking to you. You were told by several members in the inner court that it was no easy feat. She talked to you the most out of everyone.

Second to her, came Nesta who was just curious about the things you allegedly did or did not do. You held off on telling her anything too juicy. It was funny toying with her with the details. She also likes your fighting style. Morrigan too.

Azriel talks to you. Sometimes. He's friendly to a point. Cassian is more friendlier than him but you're starting to understand it's just in his nature. Feyre and Rhysand are cordial. Elaine is, well you've been told that she's nice but you haven't really seen it. She greets you but that's it.

The inner circle didn't get on your nerves. But you also had your own mission. Deliver the news to Lucien that Beron isn't his father, Helion is.

Which is why though this whirlwind of a mission you're laying down on path of grass outside of the House of Wind. Weird. What was even weirder was the fact that Velaris, a secret city inside of the night court, has existed for so long with no one none the wiser.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to turn your brain off. It wasn't working. The sun wasn't the same, it does't feel the same. You can't call off this mission either.

"Is this what you do in the day court?"

You'd know that voice anywhere. Which is weird to say as you've known the male for a couple of weeks now. But it's true. Azriel's voice was distinguishable from others. A bit low, but still soft. Clear.

"Yes." you answer.

"Is that all the explanation you can give me?"

"Yes."

You think he'll go away. He plays nice because you have the blade. He needs the blade, which means he needs you. Once he no loner needs the blade he won't need you.

When you hear the sound of him getting closer you want so badly to open your eyes. But you don't. You keep them closed. As much as you want to open them and see what he's doing.

The sound of him laying down beside you on the grass is one you weren't expecting. Also the feeling of soft cold tendrils nipping at your arm.

"It feels...nice. A bit cold." he speaks.

Of course he'd complain about he cold. Nesta had told you that Illyrians were whiny babies. You'd seen it personally when Cassian couldn't get a certain dish because there were no more potatoes for the day.

And now here his brother is. Complaining.

You hold up your left hand, the one close to him.

"Give me your hand." you command.

You half expect him to decline. To maybe even get up and leave. Or maybe say that he doesn't mind the cold. The other half of you expects him to just listen you-to see where it goes.

He takes your hand. You focus on letting the additional warmth you normally feel from the sun flow from your hand and into his.

Out of all the things you half expect and do expect, his laugh is something you don't plan for. It's deep. It comes from his core. It's gentle too. Which you wouldn't get just from looking at him.

"It's warm." he says.

"That's how the sun feels in the day court." you answer.

"I think you just spoke more than three words to me."

You scoff, "Don't get used to it."

"That was four words."

"Shut up."

"Two. We're regressing."

"Azriel."

"I'll be quiet now."

This is how you spend your time. If you are not training with Morrigan, Amren and Nesta. Or not eating with Cassian in the kitchen. You are laying out on the grass with Azriel in the sun.

It happens more times than you care to admit as the mission goes on.

-

ONE MONTH LATER

This place, Velaris, was starting to grow on you. You didn't want to admit that out loud, or in your letters to Helion. Or how well you were gettign on with Azriel. The trips into the city, the lingering glances and words with hidden layers.

You letters should only have on subject, Lucien.

He has been back from the spring court for two weeks now. You've taken that time to get to know him. You couldn't fathom unleashing the truth on him as a stranger. You don't need to be his friend. But he needs to at least trust the words coming out of your mouth when you say them.

Family dinner they called it. Even though only three of them were related to each other. But you guess that what makes their family unique. They choose each other, every day.

This meal was special. Seeing as you had finished the mission that Helion sent you on to protect the blade. There was a fae that needed to be tracked down and would only come out of hiding if he could see the sun blade.

Of course you didn't let him, but you did convince him that the fake blade you passed onto him was the real thing. When he found it wasn't after he revealed his intentions with it he got angry.

Angry enough to rain hellfire down on both you and Azriel. If it weren't for your fast thinking and powers you both wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

Now you're sat with the inner circle to celebrate your feat.

Someone clears their throat. This drags your gaze from the redheaded male to the dark haired one. The both of them were sitting in front of you.

How the mother is cruel and precious at the same time. One male is your mission which you planned for. The other male you didn't plan for, and yet...

"Az was asking if you miss home." Morrigan says from your side.

"Dearly. But its not bad here." You speak, not quite realizing what you just did.

You watch as Azriel's smile grows and grows on is lips. It hits you then.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I take it back." you say to him.

"No I don't think I will." he jokes.

You shake your head with a light laugh. You can pick up on his laugh too from across the table.

"Well if it means anything, you fit in well here." Amren speaks up.

Everyone at the table quiets down at that. You look over at her, peering around Morrigan. You nod once at the sentiment.

"You need to tell him." Elaine says suddenly.

You look to her sharply. She's gotten better about speaking to you. More than a greeting but still less than a conversation. It does weird you out some times but you let it go for the most part.

"Oh?" you ask rhetorically.

"Elaine I don't think we should discuss this here." Feyre starts.

"He needs to know." Elaine says again.

It upsets you. She is his mate. She is the one connected to him. She has known this secret longer than you. But you'll be the one to tell him? She doesn't want to get her hands dirty. None of them do.

"What do I need to know?" Lucien asks all of a sudden.

You look to him. Hoping nothin is being given away by your face. When no one answers him he scoffs lightly to himself and looks around at the table.

This is happening now.

"It's obviously about me, none of you can look me in the eye except for her." Lucien continues.

"I can tell you, in private." you offer.

He nods his head and gets up from his seat. You follow his lead and get up too. The two of you walk out of the dining room and onto the balcony. You pull the door close behind you.

"Before you say anything, do they all know about this?" he asks.

He can't be asking about Elaine. She's the whole reason you're having this conversation right now. No, he's talking about Feyre. His friend. Or who he thought was his friend.

What can be left of a friendship after a lie like this?

"Yes." you answer simply.

Lucien shakes his head, "Okay, you can tell me now."

You take him in. The tense shoulders. The bowed head. His hair is perfectly combed behind his back. In this light, he looks like Helion. Not too much, but just enough.

How do you up end someone's life?

"Lucien do you ever think about what it felt like growing up with Beron as your father?" you ask.

Lucien looks at you sharply, "It was unspeakable. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

"And it shouldn't have been yours either." you reply.

His brows furrow. Right in the middle like they want to meet so badly. You wonder if he's felt like an outsider before. If he's ever felt it amongst his brothers. The black sheep.

"When my mission is over here, do you think you could come back with me to the day court?" you ask softly.

His face goes from confusion to somewhat understanding. But you haven't told him enough for him to completely get what you're saying, what you're asking of him.

"A couple of times Eris tried to make me visit the day court." Lucien admits.

You nod your head at that. Of course. Ever the perfect actor. You knew him for a little slice of time in your life. A period in which you won't ever forget. He was your first kiss. You were young and kids, trying to figure out your own way in life.

Kissing Eris, the treacherous fox of the autumn court, was every bit exciting at your age. You gossiped, and word got around. But he didn't deny it. For all the lies and manipulation he pulled you thought he might say you were delusional, that you had made it all up. But he backed you claim.

Eris knew Lucien wasn't Beron's son. Eris probably protected him as best he could. In his own, Eris way. Whatever that means.

"You can invite him too." you say.

Lucien looks past you. No doubt at the inner circle lingering inside. If you were in his position you wouldn't even go back in there. You'd never talk to any of them again.

"I'll take my leave now, but thank you. For being honest." he says.

You give him a small smile, "To be clear I was to tell you the news in a gentle manner. What just happened was out of my hands."

"I get it. I'll see you around." he says.

You bid him goodbye. Then he's walking past you. You hear the door open and how voices inside seem to call his name. You don't hear him respond to any of them. You hear the front door slam.

With a breath you turn around and head back inside too. When you do everyone is looking right at you. It unnerves you. You hate it.

"I've done your dirty work now. I think I'll call it a night." you speak.

"He didn't deserve to find out like that." Feyre says.

"You're right, he deserved honesty from his friends." you retort.

"You were sent here to tell him the truth. Am I wrong?" Rhysand asks.

You turn to face him clearly. You can't believe he just said that. You cannot believe he formed the words with his mouth to say that to you.

Without saying another word you walk right out of the dinning room. You ignore Nesta and Amren calling out to you. And you ignore the shadow that walks with you right out of the room and into he hallway.

As soon as you get inside of your guest room the shadow disappears.

SUNRISE, THE NEXT DAY

You're skip training and packing for home instead. You wish you could pack faster but that isn’t possible. You don’t want to be here for another second. Not in this court, not among the inner circle.

When you throw in your last few shirts into the luggage a knock raps on the door. You don’t know who it is, but if it is Rhysand or Elaine you won’t open the door.

“Who is it?” You ask.

“It's me, can you open up?”

You go over to the door and open it. Standing there on the threshold is Azriel.

“I’ll be leaving soon.” You say.

His eyes seem to widen at that. You watch as he peers over you and takes in the bareness of the room, and the packed luggage. He straightens himself out.

“Why so soon? It feels like you just got here.” He replies. 

Based on his words alone he doesn’t want you to leave. You can feel it too. How it’s only been a month or so but the two of you are comfortable around each other. 

You sigh, “The mission is over.”

“And we’re back to this? Four word sentences?” He asks.

“Azriel.”

He looks down both sides of the hallway. His head turning left then right. Then he’s turning back to you. He looks nervous. Antsy. He doesn’t normally look that way. He’s usually so composed. 

He takes you by surprise. He side steps into the room and closes the door behind him. At that you know your eyes go wide. He holds up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for that but I just—are you mad at me?” He asks.

You scoff, “Yes I am.”

“Okay I knew that, but I was also confused because on that mission you saved my life.”

“Hardly.” You answer simply.

He groans at your one word answer, “You made sure those arrows didn’t plant themselves in my wings. You made sure I was safe.”

“It was nothing.” 

“No it was something.” 

You’re catching on now to how tense he is. Tense or nervous you can’t tell. His eyes are frantic. His breathing is also uneven. And his shadows are fully out on display now.

You do the one thing you can think of. You reach out for his hand. He doesn’t even seem to notice it. When you make contact he looks you in the eye. “Please calm down.” You whisper.

He bows his head, his hair covering his face now. All of a sudden he sinks to his knees. The action catches you completely off guard. 

“I’m sorry.” He says again.

You focus on sending him warmth from your hand. In a second you can see his shoulders begin to shake. From this angle you can’t tell just yet if it’s what you think it is. 

So you bring your free hand to the side of his face. You feel it. In the palm of your hand you feel his wet cheek. He’s crying. Azriel the shadow singer is crying, on his knees in front of you.

“I could have died and for the first time in a very long time I felt this deep regret in the bottom of my belly.” He chokes out.

What would he have to regret? 

Slowly you drag you hand down his cheek. You place your pointer finger under his chin. Titling his head up, you meet his eyes. From this close you hadn’t realize how many shades of brown they hold.

“Azriel, you’re okay. I promise you you’re okay.” You whisper.

He shuts his eyes, more tears flowing down his face now. 

“I don’t think I will be.” He admits.

“Why?” You ask.

He opens his eyes again. 

“Because you hate us now, you’ll never come back here.” He answers.

In a sense he was right. Not totally. You didn’t hate the inner circle. You just couldn’t stand what they did last night. How they acted, how none of them would fess up. Even though some of them had known Lucien for a long time.

But you didn’t hate them. You didn’t hate him.

“I don’t hate you.” You reply.

“I could see it on your face last night. And now, you’re leaving so quickly. You want nothing to do with us.” He adds on.

There’s silence between the two of you. The emotions Azriel is feeling right now feel heavy. Way too heavy for someone he’s only spent about two months with. 

You had heard many rumors about him. But him being like this, wearing his heart on his sleeve like this? You don’t think you could have ever imagined it.

Remembering that he’s waiting for you to answer, you remember to speak.

“Yes I’m upset and I want to go home. But that doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. Azriel I really enjoyed my time with you.” You speak.

You don’t realize it but your hand is stroking his now. 

He gives you a look you can’t figure out, “Why does it feel like that time is over already? Like I’ll never see you again?” 

He reaches up and places your hand on his cheek again. You don’t emit the warmth from there but he nuzzles into your hand like you are. His thumb rubs back and forth on the back of your hand there.

“You talk like everything is set in stone. Like there is only one path.” You say.

“I can just, sense it.” He explains barely.

You shake you head, “Azriel I was always going to leave.”

“Not like this. Last night changed everything.” He says, but it comes out more like a whisper.

“Get up.” 

He looks at you, a bit of shock. You watch as he follows your command and gets back on his feet. He keeps your hand pressed to his face the whole time. Your other hand falls to your side.

“You can come visit me.” You say.

He’s silent. Silent but he nods his head at your words. You’re not sure if he believes you fully. But it’s enough. He wipes the tears from his face. His wings perk up, off the floor now.

You wrap your arms around his body before you can think against it. Instantly you feel his arms around you. Pulling you closer. He rests his head on top of yours. It feels right. It feels natural. No, it feels like something else too.

It feels the exact same way the sunlight in the day court feels on your skin. Like it is meant to be.

part two here!

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel one shot #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fic #acotar one shot

[crazy-ache]

Separate My Body From My Soul (Elucien Oneshot)

Title: Separate My Body From My Soul

Relationship: Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra

Rating: E for smut (~7400k words)

Summary:

“I am Elain Archeron, sister of the High Lady of Night, Feyre the Cursebreaker. I’ve come to demand the release of Lucien Vanserra back to the custody of the Night Court.”

"And why would I do that?" The High Lord Autumn demanded.

“Because he is my mate.”

When Lucien Vanserra is held captive by his father in the cruel depths of Autumn, there is only one force more powerful than politics that can save him—his mating bond with Elain Archeron. She must make the choice to save him, even if it means binding their souls forever.

This particular piece is entirely inspired by the amazing brain of @bettdraws who shared an Elucien head canon in her original post and I had to just run with the idea because it was so brilliant! Hope I did it some justice!

READ ON AO3

#elain x lucien #elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elucien head canon #pro elucien #lucien x elain #pro elain archeron #pro lucien vanserra #elucien smut #acotar fanfiction

[bookish-whore]

Illicit Affairs

Eris x Reader

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: slight angst, SMUT, Eris honestly being hot, petnames

A/N: Welcome to Day Two of my 1k Celebration!! I haven’t written for Eris yet but you lovely Eris blogs and shippers have inspired me. I hope I did our fire prince justice.

My Masterlist -> Here

Join my Taglist -> Here

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“Are you alright y/n?” Rhysand asked, his gentle voice combined with Feyre’s look of concern pulled me from my memories of that night.

I cleared my throat, nodding my head in answer “When will I be leaving?” I asked the high lord and lady.

“A few days from now, Az will winnow you there and Feyre and I will be your primary contacts we will be checking in with you regularly to see what information you can gather while you’re there”

“And Eris?” I questioned

“We still don’t trust him. We aren’t sure whether he is really on our side and willing to help overthrow his father or if its all a ploy to understand the weaknesses of our court, you will help make that determination with your time spent at the Forest House” Rhys said as he locked eyes with his mate, giving her shoulder a firm squeeze.

I had never met Eris Vanserra, but from the way he was talked about here I didn’t trust him. Mor was one of my dearest friends and while she was still sparse with the details of her betrothal to him, there was obviously some underlying darkness, some hidden identity that he refused to share, and I was determined to learn everything about him.

Rhys and Feyre dismissed me and I made my way to my room to start packing and think through my strategy.

-----

Before I knew it I was saying goodbye.

“Remember to watch your back, Beron has spies everywhere.” Az whispered into my ear as he pulled away “Trust no one”

“You trained me well Az” I said softly back to him “I’ll be okay”

With a nod he disappeared into the shadows and so my mission began.

I turned and walked up the gravel path towards the Forest House. I took in the details of the manor as it came into view, it was easily five stories and looked to be made of brick, the subtle red of each stone in contrast to the vibrant green scenery surrounding the home. I also immediately noticed that there were lots of windows on what I assumed to be the main floors. I will constantly be watched. I thought to myself as I took in the place that would be my home for the next two weeks.

As I approached the front door, I heard a subtle growl to my right. I turned slowly to find a massive black dog, his pointed ears alert and his eyes studying my every move.

“Hello there” I said, curling my hand and holding it out to the hound “I won’t hurt you” I said taking a step toward it. The dog cocked its head to the side as though it was contemplating my words when a high-pitched whistle startled me, must be its master, I thought as it immediately ran past me disappearing around the corner of the house.

I turned around looking for the hound when a figure approached. My eyes widened and I could hear my heart pounding in my chest as I recognized him.

“You” he said. His eyes wide, as he scanned over my body. He sounded surprised like my presence in his court was unplanned.

“You?” I threw back at him.

I never thought I would see him again.

When I led him into an abandoned room in the Court of Nightmares, I did so under the expectation that after our interaction we would go our separate ways. He was a mysterious stranger at a ball, and I needed something to make me feel alive. I had no idea who he was that night, and now my impulsive one-night stand was haunting me.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned

“I’m here as the emissary to the Night Court.”

“So, Rhysand sent you” he stated “I figured he would send one of his winged sidekicks. How delighted I am that he chose…differently”

“Last time we met we never officially exchanged names” I said nervously “I’m y/n” I stuck my hand out in way of greeting and immediately felt ridiculous for it, but before I could retract it he took a step towards me, grasping my hand in his as he pressed a gentle kiss to it.

“Lovely to formally meet you y/n, I’m Eris”

I tried maintain my composure, even though he just told me that he was Eris. He was the target I was watching, and I already had an intimate relationship with him.

This was going to be the longest mission of my life.

Before I could say anything that would compromise my position, we were interrupted by one of the houseworkers. A sweet woodland nymph from the looks of it. She cleared her throat gently to get our attention.

“My apologies sir. I was told to take lady y/n to her quarters” she bowed her head to the fire prince as she spoke.

“Of course… carry on” he said dismissively. He began to walk away from me but turned back suddenly

“I’ll be seeing you around y/n” he said with a smirk, letting out a high-pitched whistle that sent his hounds running.

I learned the nymph’s name was Juniper, she went by June for short she showed me to the room I would be staying in and I had to admit I was taken aback by the quarters.

I was on the fourth floor and the space was far nicer than I expected, there was a comfortable living area with a couch, two large chairs, and an ornate fireplace the mantle decorated with the traditional colors of autumn; red, green, orange, yellow, and purple. Along the back wall of the room was a large four poster bed and matching nightstands. The bathroom was just as elegant, a large soaking tub, a shower, a dressing room, and a large vanity with two sinks occupied the space.

I walked into the dressing room to change out of my traveling clothes, opting for a simple champagne colored slip dress and a robe. Juniper said something about a dinner later and I figured I would rest before that. I would need to be on top of my game tonight. no mistakes.

A knock sounded at my door, drawing my attention away from tonight and onto whoever was on the other side.

I opened it slowly taking in the sight of him leaning in the frame, I hated to admit it but he looked delicious in the doorway his red hair slightly out of place and his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eris?” I questioned “what are you doing here?”

“I take my duties as host quite seriously and decided that I needed to assess whether the room was to your liking” he raised his eyebrow suggestively

“It is, although I am surprised you have time for such menial tasks”

“May I come in?” he asked

“it’s your house, who am I to keep a prince from where he chooses to be” I said opening the door wide so he could step through.

“It’s my father’s house” he said “but that’s just a technicality”

“Thank you for enlightening me, your highness.” I feigned a bow, which seemed to entertain him as he smirked at the gesture.

“I’m getting the sense that you’re angry seeing me again” he said taking a seat on the couch spreading his legs wide as he rested his hands behind his head. He was completely at ease here. He thought he was in control of this.

“I’m not angry at you, we were strangers at the time…and how was I to know that I was fucking the future high lord of the autumn court”

He stood at that, taking a step towards me. I had to crane my head to meet his eyes. Gods he was so tall…and so muscular… and fuck…stop thinking about him like that. I thought to myself

“Would you have done anything differently had you known my identity” he said

“No” I said nervously, his head coming to rest beside my ear

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten one detail of that night kitten” he purred

“Neither have I” I choked out

His face lingered beside my ear; I turned my head slightly to meet his gaze. I could feel the tension between us, all the unsaid words that passed with each thump of my heart.

Fuck it.

I leaned forward capturing his lips with mine. I could tell he was caught off guard by my actions but he quickly recovered bringing his hand to cup my face deepening the kiss.

I fisted the material of his shirt, the top buttons already undone as I pulled him into me

“So eager” he said against my lips as he hoisted me into his arms his hands cupping my ass as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

“Shut up” I said back trailing kisses down the column of his neck as he walked us towards the bed. I quickly threw my slip over my head before he threw me down without hesitation, his arms caging me in as he captured my lips with his. This time he was in control, and he wanted me to feel it. This kiss was passionate, it was pure fire as he kissed down my neck until he reached my chest.

His hands were so warm as he kneaded my breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth before kissing his way down my body, until his mouth was right where I wanted him most. I arched into his touch, desperate for some kind of contact.

“Please…” I panted

He removed my panties torturously slow, relishing in my desperation no doubt. He licked his lips as he took in the sight of me fully naked below him, spread out like his own personal feast.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I laid eyes on you again” before I could respond, he pushed a finger into me curling it in just the right way. I practically screamed at the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re dripping for me” he moaned “listen to how wet you are” he said as he pushed a second finger into me. I felt slightly embarrassed at the sinful squelching until his thumb found my clit and began rubbing circles in time with his fingers.

“Let’s see if you taste as divine as I remember” without further warning, he dove in his tongue between my folds, licking a stripe from my entrance to my throbbing clit

“Sweet like honey” he said with a wolfish grin

It didn’t take long for my orgasm to build, and before I knew it that rubber band low in my belly was strung tight and my walls began to clench around his fingers. He licked his fingers clean, a smirk on his face, he was obviously very proud of his work.

I took a minute to catch my breath before throwing my leg over his and flipping us so that I was straddling him

“Now it’s your turn” I said as I unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it down his arms. He took my queue and threw it on the floor, resting on his elbows to watch me as I slunk down the mattress until I was on my knees, at eye level with his straining erection.

I took my time unlacing and removing his boots, this was supposed to be a tease. Once satisfied, I undid his belt and he lifted his hips allowing me to pull his pants off. As I did his cock sprang free bobbing up to his navel, my mouth instantly watered at the sight of him. He was so big.

I grasped him in my hand, my fingers barely touched as they wrapped around his thick length, he let out a hiss of approval as I lowered my head to him, running my tongue along the head of his cock before taking him fully in my mouth. I relaxed my throat to take him further and he threw his head back bringing his hand to twist my hair, wrapping it in around his hand to control my movements.

“That’s a good fucking girl” he gritted as he looked down at me “You look so pretty like this…with my cock in your mouth”

I hummed in response, using my hands to rub the length of him that didn’t fit in my mouth.

“Fuck kitten…I wont last long if you keep that up” he said “and I want to cum buried deep in that tight little pussy of yours”

I grinned up at him, allowing him to take control.

He guided me up so that I was straddling him my legs resting on either side of him as he fisted his cock collecting my juices as he slowly guided me onto him. I clasped my hands around his neck, and I could feel every ridge of him as he filled me completely.

 He let me set the pace, resting his hands on my ass as he encouraged me to grind against him. I began slowly but increased my pace as my pussy stretched to accommodate him. “Harder Eris, I- I need you deeper” I begged unable to reach the spot I needed him most.

“As you wish” he said with a wicked grin “Hold on tight kitten”

With that he lifted us, turning us around so my back was to the mattress he took one of my legs lifting it to rest on his shoulder and I already felt the change his cock practically hitting my cervix as he drove into me. This new angle was absolutely glorious.

Eris set a relentless pace, the only sounds in the room were my moans and skin slapping as he took his pleasure from me. I lowered my leg from his shoulder wrapping them around his waist to pull him deeper into me and he brought his hands to grip my waist practically pulling me into each thrust.

“Oh fuck…” I managed to moan out “I’m so close”

“Say my name” he commanded as he gripped my hips “Say my name when you cum on my cock”

“Oh gods, Eris” I moaned as my orgasm barreled through me

His thrusts became erratic as he followed me over the edge, his hands dug into my hips as he came inside me with a the most sinful sounding moan.

Our combined releases slowly trickled out of me as he pulled out, tucking me into his side, his arm resting around me cradling me to his chest.

As I lay there basking in the after-sex glow, my body thrummed with satisfaction I mean it just felt so…right with Eris. It was then that the mission, and the reason I was here crossed my mind and I needed to get back on the right track.

“You should probably go, before anyone wonders where you’ve gone off to” I said softly as I traced circles on his bare chest. He pressed a kiss to my temple, bringing his hand to interlock with mine rubbing his thumb along my palm.

It felt very…intimate.

“If you insist kitten” he said standing to retrieve his clothes from around the room. I couldn’t help but admire him as he stood, his muscles rippling as he got dressed. I sat up tucking the covers under my arms to cover my breasts.

“Thank you for…making the room so comfortable, you really saw to my every need” I said

“Always a pleasure to be of service” he replied as he tied his boots and stood making his way towards the door.

“See you later fox boy” I said giving him a snarky salute

He shook his head, hiding a glimmer of a smile “Dinner is in an hour, you should probably wash the smell of me off” he said as he opened the “not that I mind, I quite like my scent all over you” and with that he left, the door closing quietly behind him.

I heeded Eris’ advice and took a bath, making sure to lather myself in the lavender soap as I scrubbed my skin pink making sure to erase his scent. That was the last thing I needed to deal with during my time here. I already fucked up by sleeping with him…for the second time.

I climbed out of the bath, toweling my skin dry as I padded to the dressing room. I would wear classic Night Court black; it seemed the most suitable for an official court dinner. That was until I noticed a large black box with a red bow, and on top was a note.

I snatched it from its position and opened it quickly, my eyes scanning over the intricate script.

Do me the honor of wearing this to the court dinner tonight, you would look stunning in my colors. -E

I chastised myself for smiling as I read the note. I would not fall for his wiles, no matter how good he was in bed. I opened the box revealing a gorgeous dress. It was a strapless a-line in a deep forest green with gold leaves embroidered along the bodice. I thought that the color would look incredible alongside Eris’ auburn hair.

“Well, it would be rude to refuse a gift from my host” I said to myself as I held the dress to my body in the mirror.

I quickly dressed and made my way downstairs. As I walked the corridors of the Forest House, the sound of music wafted through the halls directing me towards the ballroom where the dinner party seemed to be in full swing.

I stepped into the room taking stock of my surroundings, Beron had gone all out for this dinner. Emissaries from each court were present and he had spared no expense the crystal chandeliers, banners, musicians, cooks, all indications he was looking to impress.

Eris noticed me almost immediately and grabbed a glass of a sparkling drink and made his way over to me.

“For you” he said extending the glass towards me

“Well, this place really just anticipates all my needs” I joked

“We aim to please here in the Autumn Court”

“Well you have surely succeeded, on more than one occasion” I said taking a sip from the glass

“I see you got my gift” Eris said, his eyes raking over my dress for the evening “and I must say you look absolutely delicious” he smirked at the insinuation

“Perhaps you could come by later and I’ll treat you to a nice dessert. It’s the least I can do to repay you for your hospitality” I said playfully

Our conversation was cut short as a woman approached, her elegant deep red gown indicating she maintained a high position in the court.

“Y/n- I am so sorry” he said quickly changing his body language as the woman appeared at his side.

“Hello Darling” the woman said in way of greeting. I had to admit she was beautiful. Her brown hair done in an intricate braided style that cascaded down her back in just the right way and her eyes, they were a combination of green and grey a sharp contrast to Eris’ blazing amber.

She emerged and took his hand in her own, leaning into his shoulder, her other hand coming to rest on his chest. Which was her intention no doubt. Everything about her screamed control.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me” she asked Eris, his hand came to rest upon hers. She seemed to relax at his touch, but I noticed the slight tensing of his jaw and the flare of his eyes like he wasn’t at all pleased with her request but would oblige.

“Of course” he looked directly at me, his eyes burning into mine “This is y/n, she is an emissary of the Night Court and is staying with us for a few weeks”

“And y/n this is Katerina” there was a brief pause before he continued

“my fiancée”

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Tune in tomorrow for Day Three ❤️

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Taglist (All Fics) ->

@cherryjain17 @we-were-beautiful @moonfawnx @cityofidek @daily-dose-of-sass @marvelouslyem @moonlightazriel @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @indaybella99 @gray08 @dreamsofivy @gorgeouslysent @viradeity @kennedy-brooke @maddistyles17 @thewarriormoon @pixiestix13 @lucyysthings @a-frog-with-a-laptop @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @purplevitagen

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar series #eris x reader #eris vanserra #rhysand x feyre #cassian x nesta #eris smut #eris acotar #bookish-whore

[an-angrygod]

Can we talk about the fact that Lady of the Autumn court is stronger that the High Lord of the Day Court. So strong that her gift is dominant in Lucien.

Why aren’t we talking about this female, why do we not know her name???

#another badass female ignored #beron gotta die soon #lady of the autumn court #Lucien’s mom is a boss lady #justice for lady of the autumn court #I hate Feyra for keeping this secret from lucien #acotar #ACOSF #lucien vanserra #fire powers #helion #acowar #a novella needed #sarah j maas #we need to talk #sjm why you be so cruel to these badass women

[separatist-apologist]

I've been binge reading all of your fics and I just wanna say thank you for the following things:

1. Thank you for occasionally calling the Night Court out on their shit. I love them a lot but they can be very problematic at times and I appreciate that you're writing is very aware of that.

2. I came for Elain and Lucien and I stayed for Arina and Eris. For real, I went into them simply for Elucien content and it was such a nice surprise that you gave Eris a lot of love too. I'm first and foremost an Eris apologist and he deserves all the love and happiness he can get after 5 centuries of utter bullshit. Thank you for giving him that. I absolutely ADORE Arina and as far as I'm concerned she's a canon character. I wouldn't be opposed to seeing more of the two of them in the future, if maybe you wanted to write more of them...

(also I really love what you do with Helion and LOA and Lucien too, we really need a wholeass Autumn Court book for the drama, but until then, thank you for proving sheer unbridled chaos)

3. Finally I want to say a huge thank you for your version of Elucien. Holy shit. They have such an interesting relationship and a lot of potential that needs to be explored and you do this SO WELL. No matter what story you're writing, whether it's an AU or different events in the canon world, you really know how to tug on the heart strings with their relationships. They offer the perfect combination of angst and fluff and humour and you always create the best dynamic for them.

There's a lot more that I could say, but lastly, I really look forward to whatever you're working on next... And thank you for your service to the Elucien shippers and the Vanserra Brothers Support Squad. Mad respect. You're the best❤️

P.s. Thanks for killing Beron whenever you get the opportunity to.

Anon!!!

I think fic is a good place to explore themes the author chose not to. She had all the pieces in Nesta's book and then just...was like...actually this is fine? I'll be 5ever mad about that pregnancy plot to the point that it just does not exist to me?

I like Arina too. She's a sweet little bean who loves Eris underneath his sneering exterior. Like she took one look at him, said "daddy issues" and Eris was nervously picking out engagement rings on his phone and PRAYING she didn't have a dog allergy.

Elucien is compelling. I like the little corner we've carved out for ourselves here. I'll be Elucien + Vanserra Bro Support Squad forever, they deserve stories and I'm a sucker for anything set in a Autumn Wood.

Killing Beron is always on my mind. Justice for my best Lady, unnamed Lady of Autumn

#also this was so nice??? #thank you for taking the time to write all this #I cherish it #and you

[nestable]

ACOTAR as Game of Thrones characters

Nesta x Khaleesi and Cersei Lannister

1. Shes always referred to as a Queen without a crown as is Khaleesi.

2. She loves those she cares about and would tear herself and the world apart for them which is the case with cersei and her children.

3. If she isnt being called a queen, shes compared to weapons and flame which is big Targeryen energy.

4. Though loving, she can be vengeful which speaks to Cersei's whole character and iconic line 'I choose violence'. This matches Khalessi as well when she chose to have people fear her than love her which is like the wall that Nesta has built around herself to stay safe.

5. Cersei's love of wine and Nestas acofas turn to drinking as a coping mechanism match. Khaleesi always has her hair braided which echoes Nestas usual cornet that shes known for and could be indicative of a crown like khaleesis braids are indicative of victories.

6. Nestas care and concern for the innocent matches Khaleesis wish to liberate the world from tyrants and protecting the vulnerable.

7. All deserved better. (Minus cersei)

Lucien Vanserra x Ser Davos Seaworth

1. Both men were maimed by figures of power.

2. Loyal to the end but not without question. They will speak up when they see wrong and come up with better alternatives.

3. Both of them were exiled from their homes because of varying circumstances.

4. Rarely sugar coat things and say things as they are.

5. Like Davos was Stannis' then Jon's right hand man, Lucien was the same for Tamlin.

Rhysand x Lord Petyr Baelish

1. Smart AF.

2. Seem to always be working towards and ulterior motive.

3. No one ever really knows what they want.

4. Both have worked for rulers they dont particularly care for or trust with a grander mission in mind.

5. Found themselves falling in love with women of ghastly lower ages.

6. Pivotal in helping women reach Lady status. Baelish with Sansa, Rhys with Feyre.

7. See no issue in pimping out women to reach their goals. (That throne room scene, dont @ me)

8. Rich AF.

Azriel x Ser Jorah Mormont and Ser Ilyn Payne

1. Ser Jorah and Azriel found themselves desperately in love with women who'll never return the feelings.

2. Loyal to the end without question.

3. Like Ser Ilyn, Azriel is a man of few words.

4. Also like Ser Ilyn, azriel is rhysands justice in that he takes care of any threats Velaris may face by execution of torturing to get information.

5. Ser Ilyn and Azriel are both victims of harsh maimings.

6. Like Ser Jorah, he puts the needs and desires of his leader above all else even though it may scorn him in eventually (complying with rhys and eris even though it hurt mor.)

7. Would die for the women he loves like Jorah did for Khaleesi.

#nesta archeron #nesta stan #pro nesta #game of thrones #khaleesi #cersei lannister #lucien #ser davos seaworth #lucien deserves better #rhysand #high lord of the night court #azriel #petyr baelish #ser jorah #shadowsinger

[theladyofdeath]

Fanfic Contest Winners!

So, first of all, holy shit - I had over 70 prompts sent in to me for this thing! Which, is like, really fucking awesome, but also makes it really fucking hard to choose. SO, if I didn’t choose the prompt you sent in, it’s just because I didn’t think I could do it justice right now! However, with that being said, I’m keeping them all in my inbox for the future. (: 

A l r i g h t.

So, out of those 70+ prompts, I’ve chosen 5 that I’m going to do 5-10 part mini-fics with! 

1) Sent in by anonymous: single dad rhys goes home to Velaris with his child after the death of his wife and reconnects with feyre, his high school sweetheart (contest)

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Sent in by anonymous: AU where Feyre and Rhys were high-school sweethearts who broke up after Rhys had a drunken hook up his freshman year at college (he’s a year older than fey)They meet again 6 years later after Rhys gets hired as Tamlin’s divorce lawyer and s**t goes down from there

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Also from an anonymous:  For the contest - Nessian??? “Come on, just the tip” “There is no way I am putting your foot in my mouth.”

2) Sent in by @the-regal-warrior :  For the prompt contest: ACOTAR, but it’s The Office. I just... I just really think it would be perfect - I mean, are Cassian and Nesta NOT Dwight and Angela? COME ON.

3) Sent in by anonymous:  Prompt submission... ACoTaR universe. Feysand, Nessian, and Elriel or Elucien (I leave that to you & your comfort), set several decades or maybe a 100+ years post ACoFaS. Trouble starts up after it's discovered that the Night Court helped now traitor, Eris Vanserra, murder Beron. Spies from Autumm start hunting down Feysand's son as payback. Then, when Eris & his family meet with I.C., they find out Eris's daughter is mates with Feysand's son.

4) Sent in by @mockingjayusa: “you need to eat something”, “why didn’t you tell me?”, “put the blade down please” For nessian, or Elriel

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Send in by @shackellia​ :  ¡CONTEST!💣 Nesta is going to marry Eris. There's much carnal desire and mutual understanding, but nothing deeper. REWIND. Nesta is going to be Lady of the Autumn Court. She thinks she forgot Cassian a long time ago, after running away from Velaris and not seeing the IC anymore. However, they are really STUNNED when the invitation arrives, and Cassian's really pissed off despite all the time. The presence of all the courts for their coronation/wedding causes everything to fall apart. 🙊

5) Sent in by anonymous: “Don’t die on me- please” for feysand

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Sent in by @mearcat4 :  Prompt idea: There is a bakery that Feyre and her sisters LOVE. One day she notices a new guy behind the counter(its rhys). Its the baker and he is severely understaffed so Feyre offers to help. But she can't stand him. Until she can ;) So basically sort of enemies to lovers meets bakery AU. It would be really fluffy if your up for it, but you can do whatever you want with it. I love your work!!

+

Sent in by @shyvioletcat :  “My shower’s broken but I’ve got a date tonight could I possibly use your shower please?” “Oh sure (neighbour that I’ve been crushing on for the past six months) of course you can use my shower to get ready for your date - for Nessian

WHEW: Okay. So. I hope you’re excited to read these beauties because I’m pretty excited to write them! These are in no order of when I’m going to write them, btw....BUT, the first chapter to the first one will be posted S O O N. 

#contest winners #woot #acotar #fanfics #coming soon

[flowerflamestars]

Fate and Fervor

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE  PART FOUR  PART FIVE  PART SIX  PART SEVEN  PART EIGHT

For the first time in five centuries, Cassian watched the sun rise over mortal lands.   Raw as a new recruit he let the blizzards frigid wind breathe its secret’s around him, nearly so cold as his mountain home. Pink and blue, the world was superficially still in this hour before people began to move, but still here Cassian was, looking for something.   Nothing he could name or place, but Cassian trusted his instincts above all else.   There was something here- Not the something that resolved itself from the shadow of an open door to twist into the body of his brother, but the look on Azriel’s face gave agreement to Cassian’s  wordless tension.   Az ruffled his own hair, crossing the room in two strides and making a face that managed to silently convey he disagreed strongly with Cassian’s need to have every single window- four, imported glass every one, this room alone worth more money than he wanted to think about- to lean on the other side of the threshold where Cassian sat, between propped open balcony doors.   “Amren raided the hall of records- twelve Archeron generations.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. Six in the morning and Azriel already sounded exhausted by the surprises and sisterly infighting. “Can you believe she didn’t know? Fey would think having royal blood didn’t matter.”   His brother’s lips twitched. “It does explain a few things.”   The wind twisted around them, silent to ears not Illyrian, keened, keened keened- somewhere, some thing, fire without flame. Cassian let his head thunk back against the door. Nothing here was as expected.   Not just Feyre’s beloved and difficult sisters, or Lucien Vanserra in the heart of things, but this estate. Lavish, but-   “You catch the double wardings?” Cassian asked.   Azriel sighed. “Everywhere. This whole damned place is a blood magic deathtrap.” Respect was heavy in his tone, and Cassian could understand it. Lucien had to have brought himself to near death to put the wards in place. A Courts heir, high fae, bleeding for two mortal girls.   Illyrians also had a long history of protecting what they loved at any brutal cost.   And here was a far more dangerous world than Feyre had described; not desperation and cold waiting for them, but magic and secrets in their place.   “How’s the border?”   Cassian sometimes forgot how remote Az could be in company. A messy youth of laughing when the other option was despair had grown into a silent expressiveness that still made Cassian grin.   As he did now, watching Azriel’s whole face twist in a near-comical horror. “Blown to shit,” He ran a hand through his hair again, pulling on the curls. “No, Cas, it’s gone.”   “Tamlin hasn’t?..”   With perfect silence, Az stepped around the sprawl of Cassian’s body in the doorway, pointedly clipping one wing with his hip. He followed, snow immediately drifting in his hair, landing featherlight on Cassian’s bare shoulders.   The view was uninterrupted by anything so spartan as walls or coverage, the house a defensive nightmare. Just long sloping lawns and gardens broken up by magic rich, absurdly dense patches of forest. He’d hide Illyrians in those trees, have to rely on surprises and traps.   “Straight shot less than a league from here to Spring,” Az tilted his chin toward the dark and snowy forest, “Archeron land goes right to the Wall.”   What had possessed humans to build, to live, so close to the cursed thing?   “The borders down, Feyre’s sisters have been here this whole time,” Cassian didn’t like the odds, half wanted to go over each of their sprawling magical traps himself. It wasn’t, couldn’t be safe here. “Is Tamlin that afraid of Vanserra?”   Az shook his head. “He was dying, when he came here.” Cassian didn’t have to ask for explanation; secrets and history were the ken of Azriel in their every shape. “The magic at the border wasn’t a fight, he shattered it. Walked on foot through the woods, burning so hot it went to the bedrock, stopped half dead there.” He pointed with one scarred hand to a snow-buried rose garden.   “They saved him?”   “Something happened,” Az replied, “Something made him live.”   Cassian recognized the tone, gave into the urge to drum fingertips on the iced over railing. “Something like being the son of a high lord, or something like Rhys keeping Feyre alive?”   “I can’t tell,” Azriel admitted, with a grimace.   The wind sang around them with that phantom scent of fire, something, something just beyond reach. Cassian didn’t ask if Az could hear it too. —- The breakfast room was a masterwork.   After an hour of talking that turned to plans to slowly letting themselves be utterly savage at the very idea, much less the reality of syrupy, utterly untrustworthy charming Rhysand, the eldest Archeron sister’s had come downstairs.   The empty house benefitted them. No maids to watch and try to help as they hauled in new furniture, no footmen insisting they could carry the vast rug the sisters dragged in between them.   No eyes to see where they stored the family secrets.   Nesta rolled out the thick carpet with one hard kick of a dainty foot, and huffed. “If he lies to our faces I’m going to stab him.”   Elain, comparing fine porcelain patterns with each hand, snickered. “Even if he does, Feyre will want to know why.”   “I think,” Nesta said, utterly even, “She’d believe his word over ours.”   Elain didn’t throw down the plate, but she was later grateful this particular pattern, covered in silver stars and ever-blooming poison flowers like an alchemists eden, was charmed against breakage as it slid to the ground.   Nesta was a perfectly straight pillar, staring down at the plush green and purple pattern beneath her feet. Trying to hide the full scope of her hurt, even from Elain. High walls and grace and rage- but underneath it the largest heart of them all.   It had gone unspoken between them, that they’d silently imagined Feyre in their number again someday. The things they’d done- building her spaces in the house, signing her name for the Councils seal: a Lord Archeron might technically always be in legal charge, but it’s beneficiaries were his three, precious daughters.   Nesta had made sure of that.   Their father would never pass them the title- but everything else was theirs: Feyre, Elain, Nesta, the last of their storied bloodline.   A home, a place, a fortune. All Feyre’s whenever she should want it.   Their land was dangerous too, growing more worrisome every day- but they’d missed their sister. They’d broken laws too numerous to count to stay safe and powerful, to maintain a corner of the world she might one day live in with them.   Elain crossed the room to take her elder sister’s hand. The triplicate strand of pearls that lived on Elain’s wrist now that their home was full of fae had to have been cold, but Nesta didn’t flinch. “Feyre loves us,” Elain said, softly, “I don’t know what she wants now, but it had to have been her idea to bring the High Lord here.”   “A reckless, stupid idea,” Nesta grumbled.   Elain laughed, “So stupid it’ll probably get us killed. But she’s home.”   The laugh was what made Nesta look up, her shining eyes so completely like their mother’s Elain savored the sight. She’d been taller, her blue grey gaze more metallic and the fine boned cheeks she’d blessed them all with more inclined to smile; but Nesta was utterly the child of their most beloved parent.   “If we die, we’ll die together,” Nesta sighed. “Do you think that if you kill a High Lord you can really steal the power?”   There was just enough dry humor in her voice for Elain to laugh again. “We could test it on Beron.”   Nesta ran her hands down her skirt, flaring the fine faery velvet to shake off ash and dust. They’d dressed for conquest together, every inch rich merchants daughters. “We’ll be beat to it, I’d imagine.”   They would be, Elain was sure. Sorcha, who deserved her revenge the very most, would have it. Already had in some way- stolen essential, ancient power, given Lucien back a part of his birthright Elain couldn’t fully comprehend.  Nesta had spoken wryly, but the furrow between her eyes returned. They were thinking the same thing; wouldn’t say the Lady of Autumns name aloud in these spaces now shared with a Shadowsinger. Couldn’t speak to each other of what was to come even alone, in their newly invaded house.   Like Elain, Nesta believed in an absolute form of justice.   Beron was going to die.   Unbidden, lean brown lines returned to the forefront of her thoughts. Lucien’s clever hands- that Elain should not be letting herself long for- riven with burns at the touch of that crown.   Autumn-born, but cast out. Power. A chance, revenge, the war to come- they had plans for it. Plans upon plans: for if they could hold the estate, for evacuation and weaponry. The three of them together took care of separate spheres, but Nesta held the most in her head.   Elain didn’t wonder how far they’d have to go; there was no too far, not to keep their family safe.   Even if they had to be kept safe from the very people their sister had made a family of. - Cassian counted windows and clear views, walking on silent feet behind Feyre through her families home.   Even motion was a struggle, the third shift of his wings loud enough Azriel was looking at him. It wasn’t the luxury- not the quiet or beauty of this place putting him on edge. Not even the conflict- coming here was a bad idea, and he knew it.   Cassian didn’t even know what he was looking for.   Until Feyre swung open yet another beautiful door, and Cassian stopped breathing.   Bathed in bright morning light of a wall-sized window, Feyre’s sisters had beat them to breakfast. Arrayed in finery, at the head of the table sat Nesta, steaming porcelain cup in her hand so fine Cassian could see through it.   How he made it from the doorway to the seat at her right hand was a dangerous proposition- Cassian didn’t know how. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but the deep steadying breath was a mistake.   The pearls in her hair alone were worth a fortune.   He wanted to dismiss her beauty, the vanity as it juxtaposed with things Feyre had said. The sister whose heart was an ocean, vast but unconquerable. The same sister who hadn’t protected her.   But Cassian was too much himself, too long a dearest friend to Mor to dismiss any woman based on appearance.   Not braided in to show off the shining darkness of her hair, but affixed loose to the ends of pins like water drops. The pearls moved when she did, a chime through the still, tense air Cassian wasn’t sure anyone else could hear.   It wasn’t a question he’d ask.   Cassian wanted- he wanted to stop staring at her. Wanted her to look back at him so badly he’d bitten a hole in his cheek, the copper tang of blood not enough to forget the smell. He wanted an excuse to get up from this lavish power play of a breakfast table, to have a reason to walk past her again and catch Nesta Archeron’s scent.   Velvet and pearls and ink- past that, herself: fire, mixed with the cold tang of high mountain air.   It was intoxicating. The ink she’d scrubbed from her hands didn’t show, but it complimented completely that raging smell, like a tundra forest fire. Cassian could tell too that she was armed- knives under that velvet dress, a stinging scent that could only mean ash wood somewhere on her person.   The danger only increased his racing heart. And then Nesta Archeron turned her pale, perfect face on him. Impossible cheekbones, full lips, sharp jaw, keen eyes.   “What,” She snarled, “Do you think you’re looking at?”   Her voice rang like a bell through his skull.   Cassian was not High Fae. Not even low fae, really- Illyrian’s were so different as to be considered outsiders to even the rest. Savages. He’d never needed anyone to explain to him what bullshit it was; but, Cassian was Illyrian to his bones, blooded and born of open skies.   He was different, and so was capable of realizing he was looking at a fellow threat.   The ash was in her hair- pins? It had to be, had it been anywhere near her skin Cassian wouldn't scent it the way he was now. The fire and iron of her rage and arms, growing stronger with the uptick of Nesta’s heart.   It hit him all at once, the commonality of this entire spread.   He couldn’t make himself look away, but there was something familiar even about the silk in Elain’s hair.   Nesta was looking at him like she wanted to rip out his throat. Beautiful- the bones of her proud face were as flawless as the pearls, paler than their sheen. Cassian, still hearing her voice in the air, only to his ears, wanted to see how close he could push her to doing it.   Her pale gaze bobbed down to his lips for a scant second, and then out. Look at me, Cassian thought, before realizing her furious eyes were following the line his wings made around his body. Black in this light, the scars hidden. Was she measuring? The out of body insanity he’d been feeling since he walked past her shouldn’t leave room for pride, but there is was, leaving Cassian light headed.   If Nesta wanted to go for his throat, she’d have to touch him. Human- her teeth were like his, bruising, not faery pointed. Her mouth-   Like a door slammed shut in Cassian’s face, every bit of Nesta dismissed him, every bit of her attention forward once more.   She smelled like fire and every fine thing in the world- Cassian was burning.   Distantly, he listened to Feyre snap something toward her oldest sister in offense, Elain’s sweet voice chiming in. In the distraction of the conversation he heard the rustle of Az’s wings, but Cassian ignored his brother’s subtle turn in question.   Without permission or a conscious plan, Cassian leaned right over the table corner into Nesta’s space, like they were the only people in the room. “You know about Sangravah.”   Nesta stopped speaking mid-sentence. She’d moved toward him, not away. This close, he could see the pulse beating in her throat, and fought not to stare like a madman. Savage, Cassian thought again, with very different bitterness.    “Do I know the Night Court was invaded, a city leveled, and within a day it’s High Lord showed up on my doorstep?” She hissed, meeting his gaze. “Yes.”   Nesta had known, and she’d laid a trap.  A brilliant jab, after Rhys’ speech about strength and the war to come. Everything in this room came from the North- imported china, but painted in the Rainbow. Night Court silver. Wall hangings, the kaleidoscopic silk of Elain’s clothes, the very rug beneath their feet: Sangravah.   Cassian had seen with his own eyes the smoking ruin Hybern had left of half the city.   “I had no idea the merchant network worked so quickly,” Rhysand drawled mildly, sipping tea like they were having a casual discussion.   Cassian had the quicksilver thought of smashing his fist into his beloved brother, trusted High Lords face.   The Archeron sisters were not going to be handled.   But Nesta was still looking right at him. Cassian knew that expression on Illyrian faces- a predator that had smelled blood. She was good, too good. After all, he’d fought with Rhys for a full day about this particular direction: bringing danger to Feyre’s human family, taking the war over the Wall prematurely if things went sideways.   They were her sisters, it was ultimately her call. That didn’t mean he had to agree with it.   How did Nesta know?   “The families,” Nesta said, matter of fact and deadly, “Lost good sailors to the fires. When the stone burned, the water did too.” Feyre had opened her mouth in horror, but Nesta plowed on. “If we can’t keep people safe in your land, what makes you think we could provide for you safe haven to hide from your war?”   Cassian wanted to reach out and touch her.   “No one,” Rhysand said, “Is hiding.”   Feyre leaned around his wings, mouth twisting. If she took note of the electric bubble of space Cassian had accidentally created and Nesta had taken over with sheer rage, it didn’t show. “We’re sure father couldn’t have been on any of the ships? He wasn’t there when it happened, right?”   They were so close a pearl hit Cassian’s nose as Nesta’s attention snapped left, the back of her braid stabbed through with a pin long enough to double as a dagger. A faery killing dagger, gleaming ash wood- Cassian couldn’t have backed away if the room were on fire.   “Feyre,” It was Elain who sighed her name. Resplendent in pink and pearls of her own, she showing a whole different face than the woman who’d stabbed Azriel yesterday. “Father is not working the trade routes.”   Feyre shook her head, already glancing back at Rhys, “Can we find out for sure? Send someone in case”-   “He’s in the City of Gods,” Nesta said, flatly. “Or he was a year ago, getting arrested for gambling debts. I doubt he got much further.”   Feyre’s face crumbled. A scream would have drawn Rhy’s attention less quickly, and Cassian himself hated to see her hurt, but he was busy struggling to breathe. If he’d been less close the sorrow that emanated from Nesta would have been hidden. Anger was one thing, an unholy terror in her rage, but-   But the urge to rip apart whatever had hurt Nesta was overwhelming. It rattled in his veins, terrifying to even himself. What was wrong with him?   “I’ll find your father, wherever he is,” Rhys promised Feyre is a low voice. She leaned into the touch of his hand, blue eyes over-bright.   Late, too late, Cassian caught Elain watching him. He knew she was armed too, under all that silken beauty. She was softer than her sisters, a gentle ghost in Feyre’s stories. Giant eyes and winsome dimples seemed to only reinforce that vision- but she’d stabbed Azriel. Loved and absolutely trusted from her every gesture one of the most dangerous unaligned faeries in Prythian.   Twisted her face in an expression of total wickedness that belonged on Feyre’s face to raise brows at Cassian- at the lack of space between him and Nesta.   Cassian sat back in his chair, clenched hands hidden by the table.   Not fast enough to miss the impossibly quiet rattled sound of a breath leaving Nesta when he moved. Not a bit of it showed on her face- for all that Cassian could smell sadness, a cool unmovable rage, beautiful to see, was all that reached the world.   A queen, riven of ice and pearl.   The next youngest might have been flounced like a princess, but Cassian couldn’t imagine she wasn’t just as controlled. Courtier and queen then- quick poison and vengeful crusade, hand in hand. Feyre had failed, on a cataclysmic level, to describe her elder sisters.   They should have seen it coming- an impossibly young human woman who’d freed them from Amarantha. She’d come from somewhere, for all that most days she seemed more like a sister, a friend.   Instinctive deep breath burned his lungs with Nesta’s scent all over again. If he pulled on that murderous dagger, would the whole thing unwind? He wanted with a stark insanity to know how long her dark hair was. Could he fill both hands with its softness, breathe in her scent?   Cassian hadn’t missed it when he’d scooped her out of the fight the day before. But her fear had clouded everything- a fear of him so complete and overwhelming he’d felt sick- left no room for the wildness that pounded his skin- and then of course, all he’d smelled was his own blood.   “Fey,” Began Elain, her deceptively soft voice carrying, “Father has made it clear he doesn’t want to be involved. We can send sailors to check on him, but it would be easier to plan if you told us why you’re here.”   He wondered how old they were. From Feyre’s stories, Cassian had been sure Elain was the youngest. But old enough to wed- old enough to be entangled with Lucien bloody Vanserra- and Nesta was clearly an adult in her prime.   The Cauldron-gifted savior of Prythian was the baby of the family.   And making a guiless younger sibling face that made the long-scarred wounds where Asteria had lived ache. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”   “Bullshit,” Nesta snapped.   Cassian bit his cheek again to stay silent, mouth twisting without his permission. She was a nightmare- a beautiful nightmare that wasn’t going to let this already messy plan come together without a fight.   A small noise had escaped Elain- not even censure, tiredness? Before the two older- he was sure of it- Acheron’s were meeting eyes in a silent understanding that scrunched Feyre’s face into a scowl.   “You both think that?”   That they exchanged glances once more before Elain tried again was enough to audibly set Feyre’s teeth.   “You can always come home,” Elain told her, staring down the table with it’s gleaming crystal and china, utterly sincere. “You have a place here with us, no matter what, Feyre. But”-   Nesta interrupted, hurt buried from her voice but not Cassian’s senses, throat burning at her pain. “You let us think you were dead. If not for Lucien, we would have no idea what happened to you.”   “And,” Elain went on, like Feyre didn’t look like she’d been slapped, like Rhysand wasn’t staring at Nesta with a thunderous, barely contained danger, “We understand these are very dangerous times.”   It was all wrong- Cassian had fought against this plan on the basis that mortals over the Wall killed faeries, killed those who associated with them. It was still the greatest danger here, but how thoroughly had they misunderstood what they were walking into?   These women were already involved in their own way, all the more in peril because of it; they weren’t going to be able to contain this situation, they were only going to make it worse. Cassian was going to make it worse if he didn’t get a hold of himself, if Rhys kept looking at Nesta like that.   It was an effort to be still, to stay silent. Every instinct in Cassian’s body was telling him to move: to reach out and find some way to soothe that raging pain in Nesta Archeron, who he’d known all of a day, to put himself bodily between the bright flame of her mortal beauty and the anger of a High Lord. His brother- who would never-  Despite the overwhelming tension in the air, Feyre scoffed. “How did Lucien know I was alright?”   Trapped at the corner of table Cassian got the full view of Elain’s eye twitching before her whole face smoothed.    Nesta had no such compunctions. “I believe he was somewhat aware of whatever has put that crown on your head.”   Moonstone today- like a distant echo to Nesta’s shower of pearls. Cassian knew damn well what Rhysand was doing, giving his emissary a crown, but Feyre didn’t. Equal parts marveled and self-self-conscious at the splendor, she’d refused- not ready or too stubborn, he didn’t know- to look at Rhys’s affection for what it might be.   With a long, slow breath, Rhys finally set down his tea cup. “We’re not here for refuge. The tragedy at Sangravah was not the first attack, nor will it be the last. We need to call on old alliances if anyone is going to survive.”   Silken- not gentle, there was the voice of the woman who could love the lost heir of Autumn- Elain breathed, “Human alliances?”   Feyre nodded, and Cassian wished there were some way to stop her before she went on, painfully earnest. “I’m the emissary of the Night Court, I need to speak to the Council of Queens. If they’ll listen, help, we all might have a chance. Hybern won’t stop”-   No one had to explain further, as Cassian imagined few people ever did speaking to Nesta. The look on her face had been icy, now she might as well have breathed frost. “And you’re High Fae, so you cannot set foot in the sacred palace. You want to bring the Council of Queens here?”   Breaking his silence with clear regret already on his face, it was Azriel that answered. “We have been unable to infiltrate the council. It’s a deathtrap, to our kind. It might only be safe to engage here, on mortal land.”   “It’s a deathtrap for a reason”-   “Hybern,” Rhys cut in smoothly, “Has been preparing for this war for millennia. The king aims to take this entire continent, and there will be nothing to stop his march into mortal countries. If we cannot band together now, we’ll fall, one by one.”   “No,” Nesta growled, a nearly-faery noise. “No. Hybern has declared war on the Night Court, I will not let you bring that violence south.”   “It’s the only safe way,” Feyre said, voice cutting. “I just need your house, just for a few days. The message is sent. But we should plan together. We’ll keep you out it, keep you safe, Rhys can”- Not Nesta, who’d stood from the table to yell all the better, but Elain, her pale cheeks drained of color who didn’t let her younger sister finish. “What do you mean, the message has been sent?” Feyre, Cassian thought, you didn’t. One hand on Rhysand’s forearm, Feyre raised her chin. “I invited the Queens here. We don’t have time to argue, they’ll have the message by nightfall.” — Elain had told herself not to be surprised by her younger sister’s actions anymore.   One High Lord, two High Lords- the Lord of nightmares and shadows- breaking a curse older than all of them, fighting monsters, becoming fae.   Nothing had truly disappointed her before this moment. Feyre, who wanted so badly to do the right thing, who was trying to protect her new family: but who would protect them? Their vassals, their land, the fragile, infinitely valuable legacy of their blood that Elain and Nesta had lied and committed treason to hold onto?   She’d been right- Nesta had been right.   There were a hundred moving pieces before them: the household staff, who’d return in a day, if that when the blizzard ended. Their vassals relying on them- the extra gold and food they provided in winter, the orphanage full of children who had no idea how dangerous or precarious their world was. The Crown of Autumn in a hatbox, the slight of hand involved to keep their ships sailing and their goods sold.   Her engagement ball, the invitations sent. Lucien’s safety, Sorcha’s plan. That the war starting might be here- that those battles wouldn’t have a chance to kill them if the Queens decided to take their lives themselves, as was their legal due.   Elain needed to breathe. To think.   All she could do was look at her sister- not Feyre, not now- at Nesta, and understand the sorrow, the anger that spooled between them.   Trapped, once again.   Elain didn’t realize she’d risen until her skirt snagged on the chair, stopping her progress to Nesta’s side for a split second before the dark-eyed shadowsinger to her left freed it with an inclined head.   Later, she would think about how this court- family, so clearly a family- didn’t seem to agree either.   But first she rounded the corner to take Nesta’s hand. Shoulder to shoulder, they wouldn’t flinch. She wanted Lucien.  Colder than the ice gathered at the windows, Nesta’s voice was clipped. “You invited the entire Council of Queens to meet the High Lord of the Night Court, under our roof?”   Before Feyre could answer the hulking Illyrian who had been staring at Nesta like she were both miracle and doom interrupted with that whiskey warm voice of his, “Feyre, you didn’t ask?”   Nesta didn’t look at him, didn’t move her focus from the High Lord whose unnatural gaze was on them both, but Elain felt her hand, hidden by their skirts, spasm.   Humans had told stories of his kind for generations. The true of heart, warriors whose honor was life, whose promises were magic, who protected the innocent at all costs. Myths, surely, but this was the Commander of the Legions.   Honor was perhaps something they could lean on.   “We don’t have time to fight,” Feyre insisted, a transparent lack of understanding on her face, “Hyberns next attack could come at any time. I can do this, we can do this.”   Smoothly, the Lord who they feared even across the sea nodded, spread his hands in a very human gesture of compliancy, wrong to behold. “I know that you don’t trust me, don’t know me. But please believe I won’t allow any harm to come to Feyre’s family.”   Feyre’s family- their fate’s bound together inescapably.   Elain had had more than enough assurance for one morning.   She didn’t need to look to know Nesta felt the same, to guess from her thrown back shoulders and rigid body that Nesta wanted nothing more than to be out of this room. Time to think, to plan, to be alone- but she wouldn’t, couldn’t back down from the fight.   And Rhysand wasn’t done.   “We’ll shore up your defenses, guard your home for as long as needed. Feyre’s letter is the first real message we’ve gotten to the Queens, but our interests align. We”-   Elain shook out the heavy woven silk of her skirts, rainbow shimmer settling under her steady hands. Ignoring the whole lot of them- winged warriors, Feyre’s confusion, Rhysand’s false straightforwardness, she turned to Nesta. “Tea?”   Nesta cocked her head, in step, the graces that served them again and again. “Of course, I’ll see you this evening.”   Time then, she needed time as well. And long enough for them to wait for Lucien.   Elain addressed the room at large, like Rhysand hadn’t spoken. “Please do enjoy the comforts of our home. The kitchens are stocked, if not staffed, and the library is down the hall. You’ll find extra clothing in the scullery and more firewood in the closets of all the greatrooms. Avail yourselves to whatever you need, we’ll see you tomorrow.” “Elain”-   Nesta made it to the door first, holding it open for them both before the satisfactory slam rocked the entire wall.   In low tones, Nesta asked as they reached the stairs, “Do you know where Lucien is?”   Elain shook her head, “He was talking about checking on the outlying farms.” Nesta sighed, on the step above as they’d been braced to head in opposite directions. “Later,” she said again, reaching out quicksilver fast to squeeze Elain’s hand again. “We’ll figure it out.”   She managed to smile in return before stumbling down the stairs, fast enough to trip. It was longer way outside, down twisting marble and across the grander spaces of the house, but Elain still managed to pull on her fur cloak and step out into the crisp, bright world before she had company.   She strode into the snow regardless, ducking around the house on slick stone paths, cold clear air her greatest companion.   “Elain,” It was Feyre, of course.   For a half moment, Elain contemplated just ignoring her. When they were children, truly young, the only thing that made Feyre angry was to lack for attention. It wasn’t normally a problem; even at their most desperate, their father had affection to spare for his youngest, precious daughter.   It would be almost fair, she’d ignored their qualms, the very circumstances of their lives.   But no, Elain was better than that. No matter what, she’d missed her sister and there were things that had to be said.   “Elain,” Called Feyre again, sliding into step beside her on those longer faery legs that Elain couldn’t get used to. Always gangly, little Fey now moved with perfect, silent grace. “You can’t refuse to plan with Rhys because of the letter. We need the Queens to”-   Gently, gentle as she could manage, Elain interrupted. “The problem isn’t Rhysand,” She said, trying and hoping Feyre would actually listen. If Nesta had this talk with her, it was going to end with screaming. “You wrote that letter, Feyre.”   Familiar and still utterly different blue faery eyes blinked widely a her. “I was,” She stumbled over the words, “I was a human and now I’m fae, and the emissary of the Night Court. The best choice to write to the Queens.”   Five steps from the haven of her solarium, Elain stopped walking. “Feyre,” She said again, and this time she couldn’t hold back the anger in her voice. “You wrote the letter. You signed it with your own name too, didn’t you?”   Feyre stopped too, set her feet wide and stubborn.   Through the glass, Elain could see her orchids blooming. If she made it to those doors, there’d be no Night Court. Just soil and moss only she’d ever touched. Potted lemons blooming, the air warm and moist, some actual damned quiet- but she had to have this talk.   Elain sighed. “Rhysand, none of them know any humans. Not in recent history, anyway,” Feyre opened her mouth as if in protest, but Elain held up a hand, “You grew up here. You know the punishment for associating with faeries in this land is death, Feyre.”   No one cared the original Acheron fortune had been built on the back of wrangling a deal with a faery smith. That even now, Nesta, under the auspice of their father’s authority, kept faery bargains on the continent.   What mattered was this: the wild land along the Wall had no ruler. It belonged personally to the Council of Queens, but with true governance more than an ocean away, human lords- whose estates might as well have been tiny kingdoms, for their absolute power- had to keep the peace. Faeries came over the Wall- not faeries of the continent, whose gated kingdoms and vast reaches had always interacted with humans in some way- but faeries of Prythian who played by different rules.   Killing. Stealing maidens in the night. Hunting humans like prey.   So the highest echelon of Lords, Flatha and Tiarna, petitioned the Queens they traced their own bloodlines back to and it was written into law: death, usually at the hands of your very own liege, at the word of your neighbors.   Human slow, Feyre touched Elain’s arm. “The meeting will stay secret,” She told her, wide eyes sincere, “There will be Illyrian’s to guard if anything goes wrong, and Rhys will keep you and Nesta safe.”   Lucien, markedly, was not included in the count to be protected.   All at once, Elain was exhausted. She didn’t want to be angry. Not at her naive and beautiful sister, all of nineteen years old, who’d fought and died and been transformed. Little Feyre, a true hero, who’d always had a good heart.   Tired too, that for all that goodness, Feyre really thought Elain was afraid for herself.   “You signed it Archeron,” Elain snapped before she could stop herself. “Just because father bankrupted all of us doesn’t mean he ever stopped being a lord. Ua Flaithbertaig, Feyre. These people lived without a leigelord for a generation, we’ve only begun to fix things. They will be punished, we will be punished.”   “When the Queens meet with us, they won’t punish you for being present.” Feyre said lowly.   “If they meet with you, Feyre!” Elain found herself shouting and stopped, breathing out her nose. She’d been wrong; maybe Nesta should have had this conversation- maybe she’d have been sharp enough for Feyre to take her seriously.   “Nesta is not Banfhlaith, Fey,” Elain tried very hard to say evenly. “She can’t petition for clemency. Lucien is living under a false identity- there’s no one to protect us, no one who can intervene.”   “But Rhys,”-   Not for the first time, something prickled in Elain’s palms at the sound of Feyre’s familiarity with the High Lord of the Night Court. There was more there than a bargain, whatever that binding tattoo meant. Feyre loved him.  Elain knew she didn’t mean harm, wanted to trust her sisters new friends- but that was just it.   They were new- foreign and horrifically powerful. Good intentions wouldn’t protect human lives in a violent game that had spanned centuries.   “Rhysand,” Elain managed to say normally, calmly even, “Is not going to stop a war with an enemy that held him captive for a half a century to protect three hundred human vassals who have nothing to do with the conflict.”   The stubborn set of Feyre’s stance had become kinetic with anger. “Nothing?” She shouted back, flawless immortal hands flung into the air, “War is coming. People are going to die, Elain. During the last war”-   She sounded just like Nesta, when she was angry. But then again, Nesta never talked down to Elain. “The last war was almost six hundred years ago,” Elain snarled back. “The Queens hate the High Lords, Feyre. Our country is allied with the faeries of the continent, humans live in the Glass Mountains, go to university in the Weeping City- the world has changed.”   “The world changes, but you don’t, right?” Feyre said, brittle with anger. “You have Tamlin’s riches, so you get to play lady again.”   Elain had a hundred reasons Feyre was wrong- that without a leigelord, an Archeron in power, their people had nothing. Bound to their ancestral land without protection. No divorces, no founding of new institutions, they couldn’t even pick new crops to grow on estate land without their lords word. With their father out of power, they were trapped- and forced to pay the crown tax individually, more than twice what the estate under Elain and Nesta took.   The fiefdoms of their slip of human land weren’t fair- but the sisters were lucky enough the Queens had never awarded the ancestral Archeron lands to anyone else. Their father might not have given a damn, but the least they could do was try to make things better.   But none of that came out of her mouth as her sister kept speaking. “What’s the plan? Say the war never comes. What, you’re really going to marry Lucien? Lie to everyone. Let him pretend to be your human husband for a hundred years until you die?”   When Nesta was younger, she used to panic. It would crash over her, hold her fast in it’s grip- she told Elain it was like a vise in her chest, all the time, but sometimes it squeezed so tight she couldn’t breathe. The world went white.   Elain had promised her to help hide it- for Feyre to never see- but she’d vowed to herself to find a way to hold Nesta’s hand when the world tried to crush her.   The world was white now.   “Get out.” Elain said, colorless.   Surprise visibly interrupted Feyre’s anger. “What?”   Elain didn’t pause to say it again. She started walking, those last five steps strangely light, as though the ground were further away. But two of her steps was one of her sisters now.   “Elain,”-   “No,” Elain said, refusing to look up, lest Feyre see her burning eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. “What’s done is done. Whatever danger is coming, I’m not going to face it having slapped my own baby sister.”   The brightness of the icy day dazzling her eyes, Elain lurched away and into those safe glass walls. Humid heat and the smell of smoke hiding behind green growing things wrapped around her like an embrace. Lucien had laid some magic over this place, kept her plants safer even than the expensive glass provided. I’ll have to thank him, Elain thought, the orchids lush before her.   But she passed their shelves, went all the way to that back until she was screened from the outside world by potted palms, and sank to the stone floor.   Twenty five.   Elain was twenty five years old- how long would it be before she looked older than Lucien? Three years, six years, ten years? How could she know how things would progress?   He’d never mentioned leaving. Seemed, not just as his human guise, but in those quiet moments that were Lucien and nothing else, to perhaps love the land the same way she did. He might change his glamour with time- human faces change- but Elain knew the real ageless beauty. He belonged here with them.   She didn’t know how she would change.   They had to survive- it wasn’t all a lie, hadn’t ever been, and maybe, maybe, if they lived, Elain would make sure Lucien knew it. — Despite the moonless night, Cassian found Nesta Archeron outside.   He’d resisted all of ten hours.   He shouldn’t have gone looking for her. That he knew- there was no way she'd come out into a dark and frozen night for company. In fact, Cassian wasn’t sure Nesta liked anyone’s company.   But he couldn’t talk himself into staying away, anymore than he could get her burning scent off the back of his tongue. Like something had possessed him, Cassian couldn’t stop tasting it on the air. Even in the sky overhead, his lungs burned with mountain cold and raging fire. Like home.  Nesta didn’t make sense to him.   The older sister who’d failed to protect Feyre. The wrathful pillar of ice ready to challenge a High Lord without a trace of fear. The woman who seemed determined to go down fighting- not just for her sisters- but for every single human in these lands.   The spitfire who’d broken his noise, and come back for more.   She looked at him like he was dirt beneath her boots- and Cassian couldn’t stop thinking about her.   So like the Cauldron damned masochist he was, Cassian found himself waiting in a dead garden, struck dumb by the play of false firelight over her relentlessly beautiful face.   Magic- of course- Vanserra’s raw power intermingled so deeply into the Archeron’s land that it was beginning to take on small characteristics of faerie. Will-o-whisps were old Autumn magic- and inclined to lead mortals and faeries alike to their death in their original form. Those bouncing around the Archeron’s dormant garden seemed more interested in the roses.   Or perhaps the woman sitting beside them.   “Is it common Night Court manners to sulk in the dark?” Nesta asked, back to Cassian as she faced the sky.   “It’s not a good time to be alone at night.”   Nesta remained silent. The will-o-whisps drifted closer, painting red over the old gold of her hair. Cassian fought the urge to smack one away from her fragile mortal form.   An itch was starting his veins-  familiar dismissal in her silence that seemed to reach right down inside him. What was Cassian doing? This woman didn’t need- or want his attention. Cassian liked fighting, but that didn’t mean he needed to take a few extra kicks to the ribs.   He was just rocking back, silent even on the frosted ground, when Nesta turned to look up at him.   One eyebrow rose. Cassian fought the urge to tuck his wings tight and shift, to lessened the impact of his sheer size standing over her. He settled for crossing his arms.   And there was the other eyebrow, gods damn him.   Her voice had razor edges. “Why hasn’t your High Lord told my sister they’re mates?” High Lord rolled out of her mouth like a curse, briefly catching him before Cassian caught up with her words. What? “What?”   It wasn’t that Cassian hadn’t guessed the same thing. It wasn’t even that the rarity or the impossibility- the ten thousand childhood stories that clenched beneath his sternum to damn him with the very word mates- but Nesta had known Rhys for two cauldron damned days.   “It effects her just as much, Feyre should know why there’s a crown on her head.” Nesta had continued.   Something about her- gods, that face- the sharp tilt of chin, that she still hadn’t bothered to rise, the unremitting aggression in her tone that left no quarter- boiled the blood in his veins like this was a spar he’d have to fight to win. The battles he actually remembered.   She looked even better without the gems and pageantry. A sword unsheathed, ready for devastation.   “You don’t,” Cassian began, locking on eyes whose color he’d lost in the dark. “Get between a male and his mate. You won’t like the consequences.”   That had Nesta shooting to her feet. Blue- her eyes were blue. Cassian could see it in the will-o-whisp fire now; lighter than Feyre’s, dawn rather than high noon. He’d been closer to her this morning. Now, alone, it was a world of difference to breathe the same air.   “I wouldn’t want to be between Rhysand and anything,” Nesta spat, face up to meet him, “But Feyre deserves to know.” How was she so small? Petite- Cassian couldn’t call her delicate with that gaze that wanted to set him on fire. But she barely, hardly, came up to his shoulder, and that didn’t seemed to concern Nesta one bit. She’d stepped right into his space. Aggression- not violence- dominance. Nesta Archeron fought like a faery.   No, a gods damned Illyrian.   “They’re not”- Cassian tried to say, but Nesta cut him off.   “Am I wrong?”   Horribly, suddenly, all Cassian wanted to do was laugh. She wasn’t wrong at all, and he’d bet his entire fortune she rarely ever was. He swallowed it down to a smile, but Nesta saw enough for her eyebrows to spike high once more.   “Mates are rare beyond measure,” Cassian said, before she could interrupt. “But it’s not instant. Permanent, but the bond takes time to snap into place.”   Time to find, if you were Illyrian, equal parts damned and lucky as he was.   Her quick, clever eyes were following the gesture of his hands- Cassian was grateful for half a heartbeat before he paused, and that beautiful gaze was back on his face.   “If- if- Rhys is feeling the bond, but it hasn’t snapped into place for Feyre, then he’s probably trying to give her time.” Nothing about Nesta’s face changed, but the tilt of her head leveled. “Mate bonds aren’t- they’re resolute, completely.” Cassian didn’t have the words- or the desire to tell Nesta- that he thought Rhys was being an idiot. That Feyre needed all the information to choose. But he could also understand his oldest friends fear. Rhysand would take the rejection, no matter what, no matter what it did to him. He had only feeling, not the song on the wind to lead him. “And this is really none of our business."   And Nesta laughed. “When she finds out in the middle of a war zone and tries to throttle him, it’ll be our business.”   Again, Cassian agreed with her. He’d didn’t think it would be a real rejection- anyone with eyes could see how in love they were falling. Gods, he’d had to live with it, both of them set off like sparks every time the other entered a room.   Feyre was going to be furious at being kept in the dark.   But he couldn’t admit that. “Is violence how all human women show their affection?” Cassian found himself drawling. He’d leaned down into her space again without realizing it. The fast beat of her heart- ash still bound in her hair- the light of her eyes- Cassian could take an awful lot of violence.   She smelled like a storm. “Or is Vanserra just that lucky?”   Not just a storm- lightening, as her eyes flashed. Cassian wanted to take back the words immediately, but some stupid impulse kept him frozen. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips, in his wings.   For all that Cassian was drowning in the sweep of rage like so much heavenly fire that had driven him from skies time and and time again, Nesta smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know, General?”   She turned without another word and swept away, will-o-whisps following, to leave Cassian in the dark that rang with her voice.   His hands were shaking. What was the gods damned point?

@breath-of-sindragosa

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@illyrianinterrasen

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@tntwme

@ourbooksuniverse

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@donnarosemary

#elucien #the nessian drama begins! #Nesta fightface archeron #Cassian oh no she had a point and i now have to defend her with my life #Rhys: no you don't #Cassian: NO I'M GONNA #FOREVER #Sister fight resolves soon #Rhysands bad bad no good week does not #Az needs NAP #AND A VACATION #Feyre believes in Rhysand #to the point of absurdity #because she won't call it love #Nesta sees all #Elain and Nesta #literally criminals against the crown? #YES #Did Lucien spend an entire day having a paternity breakdown #also yes #Next up! #the border! #Lucien the little star #Cassian and Nesta continue to fail to relate to each other in a REMOTELY NORMAL WAY #elain archeron #nesta archeron #lucien vanserra #cassian #azriel #Feyre archeron

[acraftynerd]

Title: A Court of Wings And Ruin

Author: Sarah J Maas

Synopsis: Feyre has returned to the Spring Court, determined to gather information on Tamlin’s maneuverings and the invading king threatening to bring Prythian to its knees. But to do so she must play a deadly game of deceit-and one slip may spell doom not only for Feyre, but for her world as well.

As war bears down upon them all, Feyre must decide who to trust amongst the dazzling and lethal High Lords-and hunt for allies in unexpected places.

In this thrilling third book in the #1 New York Times bestselling series from Sarah J. Maas, the earth will be painted red as mighty armies grapple for power over the one thing that could destroy them all.

Rating: 5 Stars

Review: I have literally no words right now, that would do this book any justice. Maybe there’s some gifs out there that could describe how ACOWAR has made me feel….

So, yeah, you get the drift; I’m in total fangirl mode right now. Now, lets try and put these feelings into actual words.

Where ACOTAR introduced us to the Fae world, and ACOMAF introduced us to the Inner Circle, this one led straight on from the end of Mist and Fury as the new High Lady of the Night Court works to take down the Spring Court from the inside, all the while dealing with Hybern and other forces conspiring against her and her kind.

First of all — Feyre. From page one, I was cheering for her and loving how she was playing the dutiful submissive to Tamlin, while silently planning three steps ahead.  Throughout the whole book, she does make mistakes, but she rises to her role as High Lady in the best way.

Someone had winnowed outright, fleeing. Another had fainted. And a third was clinging to whoever stood beside them, trembling.

(reactions to Feyre being High Lady)

Also…..Rhys. Just….Rhysand. My favourite fictional boyfriend. He’s snarky, and dry, but he’s also loving and caring, and just ugh, I want one!

I lowered my shields for him, just as his own dropped. His mind curled around mine, as surely as his body now held me.

  I glanced at my mate—the male who had always presented me with a choice not as a gift, but as my own gods-given right.

  The Inner Circle as a whole — I would kill for a friendship like this family does. Because that’s what they are. They’re a family. They bitch at each other, and would kill each other sometimes, but they would ALWAYS kill for each other, and that’s the best. The relationship between Mor and Azriel in particular, is something I love, just because they would cut the universe itself in order to save each other.

Our family—our court. The Court of Dreams.

Also, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel don’t talk down to Feyre, like she’s beneath them because she doesn’t have their same skill sets or their training. At one point of the book, there’s a moment when Cassian could have easily swooped in and saved Feyre, but instead of treating her as a damsel in distress, he gives her the opportunity to save herself from this, because he knows she can do it. That’s proper respect, in my opinion.

The wrath that twisted Cassian’s face was world-ending.

But his hazel eyes slid to mine. A silent command.

He had spent months training me. Not just to attack, but to defend. Had taught me, over and over, how to get free of a captor’s grasp. How to manage not only my body, but my mind.

  Another point that intrigued me is the morally ambiguous characters – the ones who seem evil and bad, but turn out to be an actual asset for the good side. Maas writes these complicated characters, blurring the lines between good and evil, black and white, and it’s fascinating to watch their characters develop and change.

And on the subject of characters, I LOVED the LGBT characters introduced in this book, where previously they hadn’t existed. Admittedly, it did feel like overcompensation nearer the end, but I’m not complaining, especially when we have an openly bisexual character who seems like he’ll become a more prominent character in future, and a badass lesbian character who will not take any shit from anyone.

Basically, if you like high fantasy, morally grey characters, and being repeatedly hit with a freight train of emotions, this is the book for you.

Now, for some quotes to whet your appetite for this deliciously wonderful book:

  “Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”

“Rhys sacrificed his legion in the process, got all of them captured and tortured afterward. Yet everyone insists Rhysand is soulless, wicked. But the male I knew was the most decent of them all. Better than that prick-prince.”

  “Perhaps that’s because Rhysand has not lost you at all. But rather unleashed you upon us.”

  “I think they aren’t accustomed to being denied. I’d call this an immortal temper tantrum.”

  “My father will hunt you for taking his power if he finds out,” he said into the frigid dark. “And kill you for learning how to wield it.”

“He can get in line,” was all I said.

“Right. Rumor has it you two have run off together, cuckolding Tamlin.” His grin widened. “I didn’t think you had it in you, little brother.”

“He had it in her, it seems,” one of the others sniggered.

Cassian observed, “I don’t know who looks more uncomfortable: Az or Lucien Vanserra.”

I chuckled, glancing over my shoulder to where the shadowsinger carried my friend, both of them making a point not to speak, look, or talk.

“Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

  Mor spewed her wine across the table, splattering it right across Azriel’s chest and neck. The shadowsinger was too busy gawking at me to even notice.

Cassian looked torn between howling at Azriel and gaping.

“I tried to suggest she stay at home,” Kallias said drily, “but she threatened to freeze my balls off.”

Rhys slid his hands into his pockets. “I figure it’s time for the world to know who really has the largest wingspan.”

Amren’s red lips parted in a wide, serpentine smile. “When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds.”

A shiver slithered down my spine.

But Rhys drawled, “Amren, it seems, has been taking drama lessons at the theatre down the street from her house.”

She shot a glare at him.

  Yes I've read & reviewed #ACOWAR within 2 days - don't judge me! #bookblogger #bookreview Title: A Court of Wings And Ruin Author: Sarah J Maas Synopsis: Feyre has returned to the Spring Court, determined to gather information on Tamlin's maneuverings and the invading king threatening to bring Prythian to its knees.

#5 stars #acowar #book review #fantasy #sarah j maas #ya fantasy