#koschei-studies

[a-koschyei]

♔. what color character are you ?

green character

green characters are often hotheaded and brash, unafraid to speak their mind. they make for excellent leaders and teachers, and tend to be most devoted to a specific field, which they do well in. they have a lot of confidence in themselves, and although they can’t always see themselves positively, they are good about respecting themselves. they have a lot of common sense but are equally likely to strategically plan something out as to rush in on an impulse. they often have to work hard to get others to respect them, and sometimes receive less of it when people find out who they are. still, they are not afraid to make others uncomfortable by being themselves, and are unlikely to waver when someone wants them to change against their will. they can be brash and loud, but also very quiet and secretive. their humor can be a bit rude, and they don’t always display friendship and affection to the people they care about in the most conventional ways. however, they’re quite easygoing, witty, and fun-loving people. they don’t like when people are flighty and prefer to work with people who don’t quit and stand their ground. they stand out from others, both because of the way they approach the world, and because of how skilled they tend to be at what they do. some people may not suspect that they are harmonious because of their blunt nature, but they are surprisingly good and reasonable diplomats, and can employ a lot of meaningful tact when the situation calls for it. they may feel a sense of distance or abandonment from their parental figures, as they often became emotionally or physically absent sometime in their life. green characters hate being told what to do and put into a box, and are likely to challenge authority. they can be hard to work with at times due to their stubbornness, but they bring a lot to the table and tend to round out their friend groups. they need people in their lives who respect them, care about them, and listen to them, as well as offer them companionship without requiring them to conform to a certain preset standard.

tagged by: @scythed (love you and riza a normal amount 💙) tagging: @nowincolor (for mishka or miss aya !!) , @maeinade (for marya or persephone !), @acataelepsie (for katya or matteo!), @poppyvale ( for psyche or your new oc ! ) and whoever else sees this ! feel free to tag

#♔ . ⧽ study * #if koschei was capable of being normal i would agree with literally all of this #but this is mostly pre-deathless koschei #and the green !!!! being his original tsar of life color :') #ty for tagging <333 this is so good

[mx-melancholic]

me , a prydonian academy [university] student, making calculations and mapping out the galaxy [doodling] in my dorm [rented apartment] as I watch the second sun rise in the south and the leaves catch the light like a forest on fire [two birds fighting under my window] and ignoring the auditory manifestations of my madness [the music in my headphones]

#that last one doesn't need correcting #last night #5 am #studying #suddenly it's morning #always the fucking birds #Prydonian academy #dw #doctor who #gallifrey #the deca #koschei #theta sigma #I just think this trend is funny ok #i had to #i'm too old for this shit #but alas

[shadowdaddies]

could i request one where it’s azriel x reader where reader meets him for the first time and is stunned. Literally stunned. Feyre and Rhys introduce reader to azriel and all she can do is stare at him with no words coming out. Feyre and Rhysand silently giggle and reader snaps out of her trance before she can drool. She blushes and apologizes to him. When he leaves she turns to feyre and rhys and tell them that she has to meet him again. They continue meeting and the bond snaps🥹🥹🥹

anon I feel this in my soul lmao, I'm usually pretty dismissive towards men but I would not be able to keep my cool around Azriel. I love love this prompt and loved writing this, thank you for sending the request💜💜

Enchanted

Azriel x Reader

The only sound was the crackling fireplace in Rhysand’s office as you lounged in one of his enormous leather chairs, lazily sipping on your drink as you studied the mobile of planets in front of you. 

You’d grown up in the Court of Nightmares, developing a clever nature by necessity - outwitting the males who functioned as your oppressors your greatest tool for survival in such a place. You became acquainted with Morrigan while Rhys was under the mountain, becoming a trusted advisor of hers. She advocated that your vast knowledge of everything ranging from inter-court relations to theories about your universe would be a helpful addition to the Inner Circle, and Rhys and Feyre agreed, eager for your assistance with the overlying threat from Koschei.

You were more than content to work alone in your research, but Rhys and Mor both insisted that their spymaster, Azriel, would prove helpful in organizing his spies in other courts to further your efforts in attaining any information you could gather. Naturally, you were irritated at the presumption that you needed a male’s help. You had navigated the Court of Nightmares, and if anyone thought that they could disrupt your extensive research and take over your mission, they would be sorely disappointed. Thus, you resolved to remain unperturbed by this spymaster, keeping an air of indifference about yourself as the door to the study cracked open - Rhys, Feyre, and the most stunning male you’d ever seen entering the room.

Your eyes shuttered as you struggled not to drop the glass in your hand as you took in the sight of Azriel. He consumed the room - everything else small and insignificant as his golden hazel eyes bored into you. It was an airy, breathless feeling – as though your body was adjusting to no longer needing oxygen to live, but him. 

You didn’t realize you’d been staring until Rhysand cleared his throat, your attention turning towards him and Feyre as they gave you twin smirks. Whether Azriel noticed your reaction to his presence, he was kind enough not to mention it. Rather, he gave you a polite nod as he quietly introduced himself, allowing you to lead the discussion as the four of your began your meeting.

You continued working with Azriel over the next several months - searching for any trait of his that would alleviate the butterflies that erupted in your stomach every time you saw him - but the only thing you detested about Azriel was how there was nothing detestable about him. He was kind and polite, never spoke over you, and yet every time he looked in your eyes it was as though you were struck by lightning. 

You’d never struggled keeping your composure around a male before, as there were none like Azriel. It had become an issue for you, where you felt a sense of panic before you would see him, unable to trust whether you would be able to keep your own sense of professionalism around him when everything he did made you fall more in love with him.

It was on a day that you were supposed to meet with Azriel on the outskirts of Velaris to go over your recent findings when you began to panic. Surely he must know how you felt for him - he must be playing you, knowing your feelings for him as he enjoying embarrassing you. No male had been that kind to you in the Court of Nightmares - why did you think Azriel would be different?

You fled from your meeting place, not making it far before familiar shadows materialized in front of you, a concerned-looking spymaster taking in your frantic state as he searched you for signs of harm. He slowly approached you, as one might approach a frightened animal, taking your hands in his. Hazel eyes searching yours with an intensity that had your stomach in knots, Azriel whispered, “are you alright? I saw you running as I flew overhead, but I didn’t see anyone else around.”

His open show of concern for you brought a flood of emotions as you collapsed into his chest, sobbing as you finally let go of your pride regardless of Azriel’s intentions. As you let your walls down and looked up at Azriel - a new openness in your eyes to let him see the impact he had on you - his features shifted. Azriel stumbled for the first time since you’d known him, his jaw going slack as the two of you stared at each other in stunned silence for several moments.

You sniffled, wiping away your tears as you found the courage to explain. “Azriel, I have had feelings for you that I have never had for anyone else. I am not used to kind males, and I don’t know how I can work with you when I feel the way I do about you. I am so confused, and I just need you to be honest with me because I cannot go on like this.” 

As tears welled in your eyes again, you looked to Azriel to see silver lining his own eyes, and he laughed. It was a soft laugh, one of relief as he surged forward and hugged you. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, melting into his warm embrace, the both of you enjoying each others’ soothing presence. 

Azriel pulled away, wiping your tears with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He sighed, smiling softly as he looked down at you. “You’re my mate,” he whispered. “I’ve been drawn to you for so long, but I didn’t think that you felt the same towards me. I didn’t believe you wanted anything more from me other than a working relationship... but just now - when you looked at me with those beautiful eyes, so open and earnest - it snapped for me.” 

Suddenly everything clicked for you. The feeling that you had when you first met Azriel, the draw to him, the comfort you’d never felt with anyone else. Your mate. You pulled him down for a kiss, and Azriel smiled against your lips as love and peace flowed between you through the bond.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader fluff #azriel fluff #azriel angst #rhys acotar #feyre acotar #azriel x reader angst #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acosf #acotar azriel #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar fluff #azriel fic #acotar angst #acosf

[lorcandidlucienwill]

“Most of your soldiers are dead.” Eris only blinked. “And the good news?” “Two of them survived.” Nesta studied every minute shift on Eris’s face: rage glimmering in his eyes, displeasure in his pursed lips, annoyance in the fluttering of a muscle in his jaw. As if countless questions were racing through his mind. Eris’s voice remained flat, though. “And who did this?” Cassian grimaced. “Technically, Azriel and I did. Your soldiers were enchanted by Queen Briallyn and Koschei to be mindless killers. They attacked us in the Bog of Oorid, and we were left with no choice but to kill them.” “And yet two survived. How convenient. I assume they received Azriel’s particular brand of interrogation?” Eris’s voice dripped disdain. “We could only manage to contain two,” Cassian said tightly. “Under Briallyn’s influence, they were practically rabid.” “Let’s not lie to ourselves. You only bothered to contain two, by the time your brute bloodlust ebbed away.” Nesta saw red at the words, and Cassian sucked in a breath. “We did what we could. There were two dozen of them.” Eris snorted. “There were certainly more than that, and you could have easily spared more than two. But I don’t know why I’d expect someone like you to have done any better.” “Do you want me to apologize?” Cassian snarled. Nesta’s heart began to pound wildly at the anger darkening his voice, the pain brightening his eyes. He regretted it—he hadn’t liked killing those soldiers. “Did you even try to spare the others, or did you just launch right into a massacre?” Eris seethed. Cassian hesitated. Nesta could have sworn she saw the words land their blow. No, Cassian had not hesitated.

Alright, come on. If Cassian and Azriel are super duper powerful mega warriors like SJM claims them to be, then Eris is 100% right. They 100% could've spared more than two. But they didn't bother. And then they tortured the soldiers even when they knew they were under Briallyn's thrall. This is just more proof that the Night Court really doesn't value life. Not like Tamlin, or Lucien, or even "oh-so-evil" Eris.

#i believe in vanserra supremacy #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #anti cassian #anti azriel #anti inner circle #tamlin #pro tamlin

[glittergelpensblog]

Tired (Cassian x Reader)

Request: cassian x pregnant reader???

Word Count: 655

Just a little Cassian fluff!

You yawned as you flipped another page of your book, slumping at your desk. You were working while you waited for Cassian to arrive home from a day visit to Windhaven, your eyes tired from studying and researching ancient magic, trying to help Rhysand find a way to defeat Koschei.

But the day had long past, and it was nearing Midnight. You briefly thought of studying on your couch, then disregarded it, knowing the cozy cushions and the warmth of the fireplace would lull you to sleep. You wanted to be awake when Cassian got home, itching to see your mate.

It had been a while since he had gotten home this late. When you had told your family that you were pregnant, Rhysand had cut a lot of Cassian's trips, sending Azriel instead. He knew what it was like to have a pregnant mate, the overprotectiveness and the constant need to be near them.

And overprotective Cassian was. You were rarely left alone, even while he was gone. You spent most days studying with Amren in the River House, or in the garden while Elain worked, sometimes you would even sprawl your books on the day bed in Feyre's studio while she painted.

While it could be suffocating sometimes, you never fought Cassian. You knew he was worried, especially with what happened to Feyre while she was pregnant with Nyx.

You took another sip of your tea, grabbing your pen as you scribbled some notes about the dark magic, shuddering at the illustrations on the page.

You were brought from your thoughts as you heard the creaking of the floorboards, looking up from your desk to see your mate, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"Why are you up so late?"

You stood, adjusting your blanket on your shoulders as you made your way across the room. "I was waiting for you," you reached him, wrapping your arms around him, cocooning the both of you in the blanket.

Cassian smiled, warmth spreading across his chest from the bond as he gently rubbed circles into your lower back. "C'mon, lets get to bed," He murmured, placing a gentle kiss on the top your head.

"I'm not tired," You pulled away, frown on your face.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know, I'm actually kind of hurt," You teased, "My own mate doesn't trust me,"

Cassian laughed, grabbing your hand and guiding you towards your room. "You need rest, you've been working too much lately. I feel like you're stressing yourself."

"Maybe, but what else am I supposed to do? I can't sit aside and do nothing while Koschei is out there, doing Cauldron knows what."

"I know, I know," You were in the bedroom now, Cassian gently helping you climb into the bed. It was a tall bed, and getting into it was a slight struggle before, but with your bump, it had become a fight to do it by yourself.

You laid on your back as he snuggled against you, laying his head on your chest and rubbing his hand over your belly. "How is she?"

"She's been kicking all day," You two had decided that you were having a girl a few weeks after you had found out about the pregnancy, "And she's playing this fun little game where she jumps on my bladder. I almost pissed myself in a meeting with Rhys."

"Are you giving mommy a hard time already?" Cassian chuckled at your stomach.

"She's gonna be a little fighter, just like her dad."

"Hell yeah she will be, she'll be training with Daddy and Uncle Az all the time, she's gonna be a little baddass,"

You hummed in agreement, smiling as you closed your eyes in content. Cassian was going to be an amazing father, you could see it in the way he treats you, in the way he plays with Nyx. He was so gentle, so caring for you and your family.

You slowly drifted to sleep, breathing slowing down into sync with the circles Cassian was gently massaging into your abdomen.

" 'I'm not tired' my ass." Cassian mocked your sleeping form, conjuring the soft fae lights to dim.

______________________________________________________________

Tag list: @lizziesfirstwife @waytoomanyteenagefeels @starryhiraeth @knmendiola @bionic-donut @caosfanblr @lena-davina @starriestarlight @younxii @starsdoulikedem @lucyysthings @esposadomd @naturakaashi @carolinaflicker @missusbarnes-rogers @vlysseve @lollipop974 @whydohumansss @spaxxxi @graciereads @dumb-sailor-jay @jesssicapaniagua @we-were-beautiful @judig92 @littlemisslovestoread @toriluvsfics @nightless @cassiefromhell

I'm sorry, I don't know why it won't let me take some of you :(

#acotar #acotar imagine #cassian #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand

[shadowflorecita]

Elain x Azriel

This dazzling art is by my wonderful, skilled, hardworking friend @moshimoichi, and I am so thankful for the time & care she dedicated in creating this beautiful commission for me.

Please do not repost, reblogs are welcome & appreciated! 🖤🌸

Below the cut is a little ficlet to accompany this sweet moment.

𖥧⚘𖤣𖡼

The sunlight was a steady stream, gilding the cottage in a summer morning radiance. Sparrows sang their cheerful melody as they flitted from branch to branch of the fruit trees, more birds joining in the chorus as they awakened.

Elain and Azriel had created a shared routine to rise early and witness the sunrise together. Sometimes they were tangled in each other, all tousled hair and sheets askew, watching the daybreak from the windows of their bedroom. Sometimes they were on the balcony cuddled in comfortable silence. And sometimes they shared Elain's favorite meal of the day in the garden. The most important meal, as she often reminded the Shadowsinger.

It wasn't a previous habit for Azriel to take time to eat slowly and savor a breakfast. Aside from official court gatherings or traditional family dinners, he usually had his meals on the go; quick and fuss-free. Boiled and peeled eggs, slices of toast, links of sausage, anything that could be eaten within a short amount of time or as he flew to his destinations.

Since spending more time with Elain, he found he rather enjoyed a moment to sit down with her for a meal. He indulged in her quiches and pastries, sweet and savory alike. The creations she orchestrated in the kitchen were some of the most delicious food he had ever tasted. He delighted in settling beside Elain, her eyes wandering his face, gauging his reactions to her cooking. They often mirrored each other's expressions, communicating in their secret language.

Azriel helped himself to the food on his plate, chewing slowly and luxuriating in the buttery flavors. He was fully armored today, prepared for a swift reconnaissance mission with Cassian. They would scout the coasts of the mortal lands, keeping a lookout for any odd activity, armed to the teeth and prepared for anything. Especially after the events earlier in the Spring with Briallyn and Koschei. If all went well, Azriel would reassign his spies back to the lands to remain as the Night Court's eyes and ears, ready to report if trouble transpired.

Beside him, with her legs draped lazily over his lap as she leaned against the bench with Azriel's free arm around her, Elain sipped her tea. She reveled in the nearness of him. It was not long ago that Elain had stormed into Rhysand's office on an early morning just like this one. The light of dawn was still peeking into the windows of the river house study when Elain threw open the doors, prowled to Rhysand's desk, her teeth bared with fury and demanded that the high lord understand that she had every right to gift her affections to whom she wanted. Without his unwelcome scheming.

Feyre and Rhysand had froze then. A stack of parchments fell from Feyre's hands all over the desk and Elain would forever remember the panicked look on Rhys's face once Feyre whirled and began snarling at him, viciously recalling Rhysand's own promise that Elain would be wholly protected in Velaris should she choose to reject the suppressive cauldron forged bond.

There were countless times Elain had been thankful to Feyre and filled with pride for her sister's tenacity for justice, but this moment immediately became one of her favorites. Feyre was a mother now, and the protective essence of an irate wild bear shone in her eyes and the scrunch of her nose. The image would remain in Elain's memory for the rest of her immortal life.

Elain triumphantly left the study and took the appropriate course of action with Lucien that very day to formally reject the bond. Lucien was... thankfully relieved. Elain had known that Lucien had a blossoming love of his own for the red haired human queen Vassa, but Elain would no longer politely wait for him to gather the courage to take action. She was an Archeron, and trembling fawn aside, like her sisters, she was also a fanged beast. The resolve to fight for what she desired for herself was enough for Elain to bravely face all consequence and cost.

It was a liberation, for that odd and misplaced link to go permanently dark. She understood the lifeless thread would always remain, but she felt like she wholly belonged to herself once again. Lucien took Elain by surprise by declaring an everlasting oath to never call in a blood duel against anyone Elain chose to spend her life with. She in turn, graced him with thanks and blessings for his own journey of the heart. Afterward, Elain immediately went to Azriel, explaining her actions, her heart, and her wish to never leave his side. If he would allow it.

The teacup clinking against the ceramic plate tugged Elain from her memories as Azriel finished the last of his tea. She had particularly enjoyed learning how he liked his tea- cinnamon bark and orange peel was his usual brew. He was also fond of peppermint.

"Regretfully, it is time I must be off."

The pair stood from the bench, their dishes whisked inside the cottage by Azriel's shadows. Elain was pleased that he had helped himself to two servings of quiche. She brushed off the crumbs from his polished plackhart into the graveled path. He was the epitome of a heroic and unvanquished knight, his dark armor and fastened weapons at a complimentary contrast with the bright, delicate blooms of their garden.

Azriel peered down at her, his inky curls brushing against his brows in the way Elain was so fond of. She reached up to run her fingers through it, overwhelmed with the need to always be touching him. Azriel beamed, pulling her into his arms and kissed her reverently on the soft skin of her earlobe. Then both cheeks, her chin, her lips, ending his affectionate conquest by softly nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers. Elain shuddered at his touches, the feel of home as his mouth and scarred hands roved over her. She peered into his hazel eyes, the colors glittering the way sunshine dances upon the surface of the Sidra.

So long ago this moment felt like an impossible dream yet here it was, real and palpable and hers. Elain's heart fluttered with gratitude and awe as she stroked Azriel's strong jaw, the tiniest prickles scrubbing her palm.

Azriel read the thoughts reflected in her eyes, felt them in the special way he was always able to. His hands squeezed her waist, pressing his lips to hers. Hesitant to pull away, his wings lightly enveloped them, the sun now peeking over his broad shoulders.

"I miss you already. I will think of you every moment until I see you again" he murmured.

Elain chuckled, a roll of her eyes and subtle shake of the head "You won't be gone long, I will see you for dinner! I hope everything goes well."

Azriel grinned, his hidden dimples revealing themselves. "Whether I am away for an hour or a full day or a month, you are always on my mind Elain. You and that lovely smile of yours. I will see you this evening."

Elain's expression was soft, her doe-like eyelashes fluttering "Until then" she said.

"Until then" Azriel nodded, and after one last kiss to her hand, took a few steps down the garden path and launched himself into the sky, the breeze from his wings caressing her. As he flew into the clouds to meet his brother, Elain scattered a silent "Be safe, my darling" to the winds.

--✿--

Thank you for reading! A very special thank you to @tealeaves-and-rosepetals for helping with proofreading & edits, I really appreciate your endless kindness and encouragement!

Feliz año nuevo friends 💕

#elriel #elriel art #pro elriel #elain and azriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #sjm #acotar art

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 11: Illusions /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: They part on their journey to Koschei’s lair.

Word Count: 2,3K

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of fighting and blood.

Notes: I love this chapter so so much hehehehehe

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

She woke up to a familiar smell, her face pressed against a soft, warm chest. Her eyes slowly blinked, and she looked up, seeing the most beautiful sight ever. Azriel rested peacefully, sun casting a glow to his brown skin, his hair softly falling on his forehead.

His lips formed a cute pout and he snored a bit. He looked so serene and pretty like this. She kept watching him, her finger tracing the contour of his jaw, watching as his long eyelashes fluttered open.

“Good morning.” He said, his voice raspy from sleeping. He caressed her cheek.

“Good morning.” She replied, yawning as she got up. “We have to prepare, we will travel tonight.” She announced, going to her bathroom and closing the door.

Azriel sighed happily, waking up with her was something he dreamed rather frequently, and he hoped their relationship improved to the point that they would do this forever, he wanted to wake up to that beautiful face, trace her scar and make love to her before going out to training, he wanted to be able to bring her breakfast in bed and always see that beautiful smile across her face.

He got up, opening the door and poking his head out, looking at both sides before he sneaked out, just to bump in none other than Elain. He scratched his head, feeling a bit embarrassed as she looked at him up and down. He opened his mouth to say anything but he was interrupted by Lucien coming out of her room as well. The three stood there, facing each other in silence.

It was Elain who started to laugh, her airy giggles filling the hallway, prompting the two males to laugh too.

“Now that’s embarrassing.” She said, and Lucien walked closer to her, his hand brushing hers.

“I have to say that the Mother indeed has a good sense of humour.” Azriel said, eyeing the couple. “But I’m glad things worked out for you two.” Lucien relaxed at that.

“Same Az, same.” She replied, before grabbing Lucien’s hand and walking towards the dining room. Azriel entered his chambers, locking the door behind him, laughing to himself.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Azriel, huh?” Lucien said, he watched as she tied her bags across the saddle of Meraxes, offering to take their clothes for them.

“What?” She yelled from up there.

“Saw him leaving your room this morning.” Lucien laughed.

“When you left Elain’s room?” She quipped, making the male blush.

“I took her home yesterday, she said she wanted to talk.” Lucien scratched his head. “We talked almost all night, she opened her heart and I opened mine, we’re ready to start again, courting each other the right way.”

Lucien held his bag above his head, throwing it to her open hands, she clutched it, tying against her own bag. Sliding down the wyvern’s leg, she wiped the sweat out of her forehead.

“We talked too, after last night I couldn’t stand being alone.” She said, patting Meraxes on the nose and walking with Lucien back to the house, Azriel’s bag already up there.

“I’m glad things are going great.” He pulled her closer by the shoulders and she rested her head against him with a smile. “We deserve it.”

“We definitely do.” She agreed, and the two parted ways. Nesta had called her for training later that day, since Gwyn had morning duties and couldn’t attend.

So she followed to the training ring she went to last time. Nesta and the females greeted her, and they started to train, with basic exercises to prepare their muscles first, then hand in hand combat.

Nesta paired up with her, they bowed to each other in respect before assuming their fighting positions. The two circled each other, studying their movements and looking for any breach so they could attack.

Y/N noticed the opening in her left flank and the smugness on Nesta’s face, and she knew it was on purpose, aiming there before she crouched, spinning and hitting Nesta’s legs with her own, sending the female stumbling down on her back. Nesta gasped as the air was knocked out of her lungs, jumping until she was back on her feet, lunging for the female.

Her fist hit the side of her ribs, making her groan and punch her hands away from her body. Nesta grabbed her by the neck, prompting Y/N to sneak her arms from under Nesta’s, forcing her to let go of her neck, she forced Nesta down, her stomach colliding against her raised knee.

A punch to Y/N’s face, making the skin go purple immediately. The two kept going at each other's throat, Y/N would never go easy on her because she respected Nesta as a warrior, and she was glad Nesta was doing the same to her, putting all of her efforts in trying to win the sparring match.

Twenty minutes later, blood and sweat mixed as the two kept landing blow after blow. She was getting tired, so she wrapped her legs around Nesta’s torso, pulling her down with her, locking her arm in a breaking grip. Nesta groaned trying to free herself but Y/N gripped her harder, not allowing her to.

“Tap out.” She ordered and Nesta huffed, tapping her leg three times, Y/N let her go, getting up and helping Nesta back to her feet. “It was a good match.”

“You’re very good, you should join us more often.” Nesta offered, smiling at the female and Y/N nodded.

“Let’s think about it.” She said, wiping the sweat off her forehead with a cloth Emerie offered her. She stayed with them, eating sandwiches and drinking cold tea by the sparring ring.

The females sat together, laughing and talking about training, some more shy than others, just nodding and not actually talking. Nesta noticed how Y/N looked at them, slowly sliding until she was sat by her back, Y/N turned her head, looking at Nesta with only one eye open.

“They come from the library, each female there has a tragic story and that is their safe space. I convinced them to train so they would never be vulnerable again.” She whispered and Y/N nodded, she had no idea.

“That’s really nice of you, giving them a second chance.” She smiled.

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” Nesta had a distant look on her face, and Y/N remembered the story Nesta had told her.

“I’m glad it’s you then, they have a lot to learn from you.” Nesta rested her head against her back, feeling happiness settle in her heart, the only one that had appreciated and supported her like this besides her Valkyries, was Cassian. It was a nice feeling having someone complimenting and being proud of her like this.

As the females left the ring to go back to their lives, Nesta guided Y/N back inside, pulling her towards her bathroom, where she forced her to sit on the sink counter while she cleaned her wounds, they looked worse than hers. She healed slower after all. Nesta cleaned the blue blood smeared across her face, and then pulled out a little bottle from inside the cabinet.

“For the swell of your eye.” She handed the potion, watching Y/N dump it in one strike. “I don’t want Azriel pestering me about it.”

“He wouldn’t.” Y/N reassured, feeling her eye starting to open little by little, soon only the purple marks would remain.

“He cares a lot about you, of course he would.” Nesta jokes, getting away from her and starting to clean her own face.

“You think so?” She shyly asked, getting out of the sink.

“Yeah, I do.” The female replied, and Y/N nodded.

“Thank you for the potion.” She said, hearing Nesta hum in agreement as she exited the bathroom and went towards her own room to have a shower.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

They sat there, having dinner. Y/N had spent the rest of her day reading the diary Morrigan had found, it talked about old gods and how they got to Prythian. They would travel all night and stay at the manor Lucien lived with his friends. Despite taking her bags for him, he would winnow first, to prepare the house for them, while Y/N took Azriel on Meraxes with her.

She kept quiet, still a bit uncomfortable with the pity stares the inner circle directed at her, especially Feyre. She tried to ignore but it was hard, so she just sat there in silence, eating her food and drinking her blood that Amren had provided for her again, in a way to comfort her for what she had seen yesterday.

“Are you ready to go?” Azriel asked as he noticed her empty plate.

“Just need to grab something.” She said, excusing herself and walking back to her room, to brush her teeth and get her sword. After she was done, she got back to the dining room, where everyone shared their goodbyes to them.

“Please come back to us.” Feyre begged as she hugged Y/N, the female swallowed the lump on her throat at the sight of the teary eyed high lady.

“I will.” She promised, parting their hug and going to another pair of arms, one by one, they hugged her like she was never going to be back. They enjoyed having her around and despite wanting to help her to go back, they didn’t really want her to be gone from their lives.

“Let’s go.” Azriel urged, pulling her by the hand towards the balcony Meraxes waited. It felt weird flying with something else that it wasn’t his own wings, but the distance he would take days to achieve, Meraxes could in hours.

So Azriel shut his mouth, hugging her waist as he sat behind her, a belt steadying him into place. Meraxes started to fly and it felt so different, the winds were stronger and he was faster.

“Do you remember the way?” She mocked, sensing the tense male behind her.

“Just go in a straight line and we’ll be fine.” He said above the sound of the wind.

“Hear that boy?” She asked Meraxes. “Let’s go then.” The winds intensified as the wyvern beat his wings faster, soaring over the city and towards the Band of Exiles home, where they would stay and watch Koschei closely.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’re just a day away from the house.” Azriel said looking at the map, they had stopped in a hidden place around the Spring Court border. Since she refused to leave Meraxes behind, they could only travel at night to keep him hidden from curious eyes.

“Great.” She said finishing with the sheep she was feeding the wyvern. Azriel had flown to a nearby city to get two of them for Meraxes, Lucien had guaranteed he would have enough to feed him for as long as they needed to stay.

Meraxes loudly burped after he finished his meal, receiving an incredulous glare from Azriel and a scoff from his rider. “You’re so nasty.” She had said, just to be rudely pushed by his nose, making her lose balance and fall on her ass. Azriel started to laugh, receiving another scoff from her.

“Keep laughing and I’ll keep the tent just for myself.” She threatened and he lifted his hands in surrender.

“I won’t.” He promised, and she got up, her hands dirty as she groaned. “There’s a lake nearby if you want to clean yourself.” She started to roam around her things, pulling a pair of lighter clothes and a towel.

“Be right back.” She said, turning her back to him and swaying her hips away towards the lake.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She had left for at least 20 minutes, and Azriel was starting to get worried, he shared a look with Meraxes and the thing nodded, like he understood that he should keep guard while Azriel searched for her.

He walked towards the lake, finding her discarded clothes both dirty and clean by the shore. He couldn’t spot her on the lake either. So he followed the wet trail that led him towards the closed parts of the woods.

He found her there, drenched and coated in blood. Her sword hanging from her hand, and laying limply by her side, was Azriel. He looked at her and at himself laying there, with an open neck and blood pouring out of the wound.

“You appeared out of nowhere, saying that you had something you wanted to tell me.” She started, and Azriel looked at her again, swallowing as he took in her naked form? Blood coated her full breasts, her soft waist and the lower parts of her body like she had bathed in it. “When I got here you tried to fucking kill me.” She gritted her teeth, and Azriel slowly got closer to her.

“That was a Puca, they create illusions to try and lure people.” He grabbed her hand and she flinched. He slowly pulled her hand up, above his heart. “See? It’s beating, I’m real.” She looked at him. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He kept looking at her eyes to avoid looking down.

She quietly followed him, going to the lake as Azriel discarded his own clothes, going after her to help her clean. He pulled her close by the waist, the water above her shoulders, not dark enough to hide her frame from his curious eyes.

“I thought it was you.” She said quietly.

“It’s okay, I’m here now.” He pulled her chin up, eyes drifting to her lips as a thought crossed his mind.

Puca’s assumed the form of what the person desired most to lull them and kill them after. His dead body replayed itself in his mind, meaning that the Puca knew this was the only way to convince her to go with him.

With that in mind, Azriel lowered his head, capturing her lips in a kiss.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16

@just-here-reading @celestialend @donttellthecats @scatteredstardustt @snoopyspace

@asterinblacksword @tsumudoll @georginat12 @skyjasper @anuttellaa

@willowpains @quinzzelx @amysangel @fightmedraco @puttyly

@lees-chaotic-brain @thisblogisaboutabook @esposadomd @stained-glass-eyes0708 @brujitafantomatico

@a-cup-of-nightshade @faridathefairy @bubybubsters

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #worlds apart fic

[wingedblooms]

A different sort of strength

Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light. (acowar)

-

I whipped my head toward him. “You think I stifle her?”

Rhys held up his hands. “Not you alone.” He surveyed the study as he thought. “But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.” He sighed toward the ceiling. “With time and safety, perhaps we’ll see a different side of her emerge.” (Feysand bonus)

Many have assumed Elain is as all she appears: lovely and gentle and sweet. Feyre believes her loving nature is a different sort of strength, and it is. Love is powerful. In Sarah’s stories, love alters fate time and again in every world. But to Rhysand’s point, this perception of Elain—as lovely and gentle and sweet—is incomplete.

When Amren said there’s no going back to human in acofas, I think Sarah was preparing us for her evolution as a character. That’s why she has hinted Elain isn’t all she appears; a different side of her will emerge. Her family intervention is coming and it will push her to grow and embrace all the layers people can’t (or refuse) to see.

That doesn’t mean she will become something unrecognizable. In an interview, Sarah confirmed that Elain is a quiet dreamer, so her evolution will remain true to the different sort of strength she possesses. For example, she may learn to operate as a spy and courtier and ambassador in Mor’s place on the continent. While she can act like an otherworldly soldier-assassin when needed, as Amren once was, Elain doesn’t need to use violence to change fate.

…intelligence is in the knowledge business. Sometimes it might be useless. Sometimes enough to blackmail someone. And sometimes, just sometimes, it influences battles, sways governments, and changes the fate of the world.

-

In the intelligence world, a spy is strictly defined as someone used to steal secrets for an intelligence organization. Also called an agent or asset, a spy is not a professional intelligence officer, and doesn’t usually receive formal training (though may be taught basic tradecraft).

Instead, a spy either volunteers or is recruited to help steal information, motivated by ideology, patriotism, money, or by a host of other reasons, from blackmail to love. From an intelligence perspective, their most important quality is having access to valuable information. For this reason, a government minister might make a great spy—but so might the janitor or a cafeteria worker in a government ministry. (spy museum)

A spy’s most important quality is having access to valuable information. We already know Elain has access to valuable information through her powers, and her information repeatedly helps and protects others.

she tells her court leaders about Vassa, an ally who brings fire and brimstone to the war effort, and Koschei, a looming threat;

she locates the Suriel from across the world to help Feyre gain critical knowledge,

she miraculously neutralizes Hybern before he can kill Nesta and Cassian (which we will likely learn was planned and executed through a combination of her powers), and

she shares information about Nesta’s interests and skills so they can be utilized by her court and her mate, leading to the consummation of their bond.

Elain has influenced quite a bit and only needed to wield a knife once—a lethal blow that no one expected—to change fate. Her gifts are well-suited for accumulating secrets. She may even be able to gather secrets about people on sight, like other seers.

Spies also try to blend in with their surroundings to avoid getting caught. And in the Hewn City, Eris and Cassian dismiss Elain based on her appearance. Hewn City is described as rotting darkness and Elain wears a dress that leeches the life from her appearance. She looks plain. Boring. And no one really pays her any attention as a result.

In the very next chapter, Nesta is shocked (again) by Elain’s sudden appearance and wonders if she is training with the spymaster or her friends, the spies. I don’t think we’ve seen Nuala and Cerridwen use violence once as spies. They have access to valuable information in their roles as handmaidens and their abilities as wraiths allow them to truly blend into their surroundings. It’s possible Elain has learned to move like a wraith from them and depending on the extent of their powers, she might have also learned how to alter her appearance or even wear different bodies. @offtorivendell and I think this could explain, if it becomes canon, how Elain could’ve appeared as Balthazar to help Nesta and Emerie.

Elain also learned how to prepare food from her spy friends, which is another method to influence or disarm others. We learn Elain is working on an herb garden right around the time she learns how to prepare food. Conveniently, herbs can harm as well as heal. She doesn’t need to wield a sword when she has natural weapons growing in her garden.

As the sweet and gentle gardener, no one would suspect Elain of spying or growing plants that could help her access even more knowledge (or protect herself against potential aggressors). But we know, thanks to Rhysand, that gardeners are used to getting their hands dirty, and we know, thanks to Feyre, that Elain won’t hesitate to wield hers for a pretty result.

#elain archeron #here I go talking about Elain’s evolution again #spy and courtier and ambassador #why choose one when it can be three #a different sort of strength #a different side #nuala and cerridwen #night court spies

[nocasdatsgay]

Blessing of Spring

(A Spring Time Affairs mini fic)

@tamlinweek Day 1 Heir of Spring

Implied Pairing: Tamlin/OC |Rating: G | Word Count: 1090

Spring Time Affairs Masterlist| Read on AO3

Warnings: a child?

Summary: Tamlin rushes out when he hears his son screaming from his office. He finds the young heir in a predicament.

A/N: This can be read as a standalone. A case study on Daddy!Tamlin if you will.

There were very few things that terrified Tamlin anymore. Not after the ordeal under the mountain and the years after. The day Lucien and subsequently Elain, was abducted by Koschei was one. He would never forget the panic of Rhysand’s in his head explaining what happened. And the help he needed. That day was so long ago, Tamlin no longer had nightmares about it, thank the mother.

When he married Flora was another. He still didn’t understand for months how she could agree to be his wife. He buried his fears but he also waited on bated breath for her to change her mind. It took a lot of healing to move past it. Watching his son being born was also terrifying but in the best way possible.

But he had to admit, out of all of it, hearing his three year old son screaming like he was being murdered was the worst of them all.

Tamlin could hear him outside from his office. He nearly threw the door off the hinges, frantically trying to get to him. He paused for a second, listening for which end to go, forgetting the layout of his own home. He went right, sprinting down the hall and following it around the corner. He kept running, the halls shockingly empty. Did everyone go to his son? He finally found the door that led out to the gardens. As he flung open the door he almost ran into Elain.

“Thank goodness, I was coming to get you-“

“Where is he?” The words came out harsher than intended.

“With Flora.” She pointed to the right. “He shifted and-“

He didn’t give her time to finish. He ran around the house and found them near the fountain. His son's incoherent screams turned into a chant.

“Papa!” His son wailed through loud tears. “Papa please!”

Tamlin froze at the sight before him. His poor wife, kneeling and holding their son against her while he cried. Flora was obviously doing her best to soothe him. But that wasn’t what had Tamlin frozen in place. His son looked up at him with his red rimmed green eyes.

“Papa- won’t- go!” was all he could understand.

His poor boy had grown antlers out of his head. Tamlin also could see the end of a tail coming out his pants, the tip poofy with fur. In a blink, Tamlin closed the distance, kneeling beside Flora. He pulled the back of his son's trousers down, just enough to free the tail.

“Oh Ez,” Tamlin muttered, still a little shocked.

His boy’s sobs turned to sniffles as, squirmed out of his mother’s grasp and went to Tamlin. He lifted him up against his chest holding him tight.

“I don’t like it,” Ez buried his face against his fathers chest. “I don’t like it papa!”

Tamlin made eye contact with Flora. She looked worse for wear, hair frizzled and the top of her dress soaked in their baby boy’s tears.

“He was playing with the other children and- I don’t know what happened.” Flora explained. “He can’t make them disappear. I told him you could fix it but he wouldn’t budge.”

Tamlin rubbed his hand along Ez’s back trying to comfort him. Flora gestured to the stones- the they had crushed, little claw marks embedded in them. He nodded in understanding.

“Ez,” he whispered gently. “I’m going to put you down alright?”

“No!” He screamed and clung tighter. Claws Tamlin didn’t know were present on his hands dug into his shoulders.

“Sunshine,” Tamlin whispered. “You’re going to have to stand so I can help you. I need to see to make them go away.”

His son whimpered into his chest. It took a few more minutes of coaxing but he finally let go. Now standing, Tamlin assessed the damage. Claws on his hands, his shoes were destroyed with paws and more claws coming out of them. Thankfully other than the antlers and tail, he looked normal.

“You’re so brave Ez. I’m going to make them go away but you have to be still. Do you need mama to help?”

“No papa.”

Tamlin reached out and hovered his hands over the horns. Using his shapeshifting magic, he shrunk them. Ez ended up squirming, Flora moved behind him just in case she needed to hold him. Tamlin moved to the tail next since he knew how uncomfortable that was from experience. He straightened the pants on him once it was gone. Finally, he retracted the claws and fixed his feet.

“Let’s get these off, hm?” He said and gently pulled off the ruined shoes.

“Can you fix it?” Ez said through little gasps.

“I’m not sure.” That made Ez let out a screaming wail. “We can try. Ez, look at me.” He said gently. He still cried but looked at his father. “I will do my best. If I can’t fix it, I will get you a new pair.”

Ez nodded solemnly. Flora moved back around beside Tamlin and pulled out a handkerchief.

“Can mama wipe your face?” She asked. Ez nodded and she gently wiped up the tears and snot. “All better. You did so good for papa. Do you want to go back and play?”

“My shoes,” he whimpered, pointing at them.

“I think you can play in the dirt with your bare feet just this once,” Tamlin smiled at him. “But you can’t fight your mama or Lainy during bath time.”

“Okay papa.”

It was as if nothing had happened, the giddiness returned and he ran off to join the other children again a few yards away. Flora let out a heavy sigh and leaned against her husband.

“How often did this happen when you were a youngling?” She asked, taking his hand in her own.

Tamlin slumped back onto his feet, unable to reply. Too often. He wanted to say. The Blessing of Spring was a curse for him as an Heir. Too often and each time was met with punishment or disdain. His brothers alone tormented him into shifting on purpose. Then when he was older, his own father would force him to shift just to prove himself. Flora seemed to realize he was in his head; she squeezed his hand.

“You were so good with him,” she added. “He knew you’d take care of him, Tam. You're a good father.”

He watched his son chase another youngling in the distance, carefree and giggling. A stark contrast to his own childhood. He squeezed her back, a silent agreement that she was right.

#tamlinweek2024 #heir of spring #tamlin #Daddy!Tamlin #he’s a good papa #spring time affairs #OC: Flora #Tamlin/OC

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Elain and Azriel Share A Little Tenderness

A Snippet of Az and Elain being sweet. This is also a preview of Chapter 27 since AO3 is down and we all need a little softness for our Monday, but it reads as a stand-alone.

Elain’s eyes danced across the male in front of her. Finally, truly, drinking in the sight of him after so many weeks.

He was still every dark, gentle fantasy she’d ever allowed herself to have. His siphons glowed softly, that dreadful power slumbering, radiating cobalt across the grass of the meadow in which they lounged.

And then Elain’s study of him snagged, caught on a swollen, bloodied piece of flesh in the membrane of his wing peaking over his shoulder. And everything inside her hollowed out.

“Azriel.” she said quietly, her trance broken. “You’ve been injured.”

The shadowsinger’s face drew in question for a moment before tracking her gaze over his shoulder to his right wing.

“It’s nothing.” he murmured.

Elain’s features folded into a scowl and she shifted closer to him. Azriel remained still as death, although his eyes widened slightly as she drew near.

Upon closer inspection, Elain gasped softly. Two fresh scars, puncture marks by the look of it, not by any stretch healed, dwelled in the tender stretch of his wing.

“What happened?” she whispered, aghast.

Azriel blinked back at her.

“I was shot with two ash arrows on the continent.”

“Ash arrows?” Elain’s voice was sharper than a knife and a sheet of unadulterated concern overtook her lovely face.

“What sort of-” she stuttered, looking at him in shock. “Ash arrows?”

Azriel blinked back at her, unfazed.

“What on earth were you-” she stuttered, and thought the better of speaking, simply turning and expanding his wing entirely with a quick hand, her eyes roaming over the membrane in distress.

She duplicated the effort with his other wing.

No other recent scars were visible, praise the Mother.

Azriel stiffened, wide eyed, at the entire turn of events. It was clearly the first time he had ever been fussed over to any extent in his entire life.

Elain was having none of it.

“How?” she demanded, after completing her survey of both wings.

Her voice was not her own, it was full of need and worry and demanding as hell.

Azriel only swallowed thickly.

“How did this happen, Azriel?”

He had already told her but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough to quiet the sea of instinct raging inside her.

Elain stood, hands on her hips, and marched forward to face him directly.

“How?” she said even more sharply.

Azriel blinked at her.

“I was shot after meeting with a spy in a village near the lake which Koschei inhabits.”

Elain covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp.

“You go to that place?” She said incredulously, the floodgate of her inner thoughts opening wide.

Azriel nodded once. And his indifference only set her instincts aflame.

“You are not to go there again.” She said sharply.

Azriel rose to his feet, wide-eyed, clearly at a loss.

“Ash arrows.” she snapped, pacing back and forth before him.

“And you didn’t think to mention-” she ran a hand through the tresses of her curls.

“not even a word-”

“There was no reason to bother you with such information.”

“No reason?” she gaped at him.

“Elain I am perfectly capable of defending mys-”

“You are never to go there again.” She repeated, cutting him off.

“And if Rhysand has an outstanding desire for you to do so then he can bloody well go himself.”

She crossed her arms as he took a step towards her, chuckling.

“What in heaven’s name is amusing?” she demanded curtly.

“A rather small creature giving me rather large orders” he murmured, looking down at her beneath those impossibly long eyelashes.

“I’m not-”

“You are.” He scanned his eyes over her quickly and appreciatively.

She huffed an exasperated breath.

“Elain,” his voice was gentle. “Are you going to remain angry with me during the only night I might spend with you for weeks?”

“Perhaps.” she gritted, peering up beneath lovely, lowered brows.

The threat was hollow. She knew it.

And Azriel knew it too. Which is why he only drew closer.

“That’s a pity.” he murmured quietly and then he gave her a gentle look with the softest eyes imaginable.

“And why is that?” she retorted, losing herself to the hazel need in his face.

“Because aside from wanting to enjoy your company,” he said quietly, “the injury actually hurts rather badly, if you must know.”

Elain’s face drew in worry. Azriel turned and half-winced as he regarded the wound in his right wing.

Elain only began stuttering incoherently, pacing again, and running her hands through her hair before realizing something and leaning over to her satchel, filtering through the contents.

“Sit.” she said.

A moment later she kneeled behind him with a small bottle of tonic in hand. Just a simple herbal remedy for minor aches and cuts. Elain used it frequently in the garden when more aggressive plants got the better of her. It wasn’t enough, certainly not treatment for ash fucking arrows, but it was better than nothing.

She rubbed the oil against his wing and Azriel hummed appreciatively. Elain was very careful to avoid the sections he had once told her were exceedingly… sensitive.

“Better?” she asked after a while. He nodded silently.

And then turned back to regard her softly.

“Is there anywhere else?” she asked gently.

“A third skimmed me here.” He rested his hand along the seam between his upper thigh and abdomen, that soft look of need lingering on his face.

“Very well,” she murmured.

Elain paused for a moment, her breath hitching. But this was purely necessary, even if it felt… forward. She could not stand the idea of Azriel in any sort of pain, particularly when he so rarely spoke of it, so she shifted herself in front of him slowly.

Azriel leaned back on his elbows, allowing her greater access as she edged herself between those long, leather-clad legs.

Elain reached carefully for his belt. She slowly undid the fastening and swallowed thickly as color began staining her cheeks. After his belt was unbuckled, she moved a slightly trembling hand to the line of buttons beneath, unfastening the first, then the second. On the third she began fumbling with such ridiculous nerves that it simply wasn’t unbuttoning.

Elain felt Azriel watching her all the while so she rose her eyes to his. And found him giving her a rare devilish half grin that she had never seen before in all the time she had known him.

Her mouth dropped open at the sight and she straightened immediately.

“You-” she stuttered, blinking at him rapidly, “are you in any pain at all?”

Azriel shook his head once softly, his grin grew a half inch, and damn the stars above if it wasn’t a beautiful thing regardless.

“Insufferable male” she seethed.

“I prefer insatiable.”

A godsdamned dimple appeared on his left cheek as he admired her perched between his legs. “But must I deny how lovely the sight is?”

Elain turned the color of a tomato.

Azriel only chuckled, taking her shock as an opportunity to quickly and efficiently gather her in his arms, enveloping her in his scent, his warmth, his own need, his shadows.

And Elain despite herself, chuckled too. Because it was rather funny, and she truly needed the laugh to sooth her strange, unwieldy instincts.

“I missed you, Elain.” Azriel whispered into her hair as their laughter abated to something softer.

“Your scent. The the melody of your laugh.”

Elain tried to keep her breathing steady as she slowly reached a hand to cradle his cheek.

“It aches.” she said softly, “I ache everywhere when I am parted from you.”

And she looked to him then. “Azriel,” she breathed, bringing a hand to his golden cheek.

“I need to know if you are injured.” Elain murmured, “Even if it is difficult for you to share.”

She held his gaze and pressed her own need into it.

“I need to know if you are in danger. If you have been hunted.” Azriel looked to her curiously. ”There are things- things I have learned about that place.” Elain swallowed, trying to still her skittering mind.

“About my connection to it. Things that might put you in danger.”

She brushed a gentle thumb against the curve of his high, perfect cheek.

“And I cannot abide the thought of that happening.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes sharpened with a quiet realization at her words.

“Because I need you to come back to me.”

Come back

Her heart whispered in the space between them.

Come back to me always.

I care for you,

I need you whole,

I need you unharmed,

I need you, Azriel.

She looked into his eyes and watched the understanding grow there.

My lovely, sweet, lethal belladonna,

my deadly nightshade.

Her heart whispered.

Do you not know?

I would choke the world with a thousand vines,

to keep you from harm.

“I cannot lose you, Azriel.” She whispered, stroking his cheek, leaving behind a trail of silent worship.

Not when I’ve only just found you.

Elain’s chestnut eyes settled on the fresh scar along his wing once again. “Were you not careful?”

Azriel stared at the female in his arms with quiet adoration, like she was his deliverance, his salvation.

“I was.”

Elain met his gaze again at the softness in his voice.

“But it would be a lie to say I always have been.”

Elain’s eyes drew in question as Azriel’s shuttered closed.

“I’ve never,” he paused, searching for the words, “I’ve never had a reason to be careful. Not really.”

And the weight of those words sank into her heart like a stone plummeting to the bottom of the sea.

Elain only lifted the shadowsinger’s chin gently and willed every ounce of her own need, her own desire, her own hope into her eyes.

“Then let me.” she whispered, borrowing those words, those holy words he so often offered her whenever she was in need.

“Let me be the reason.”

Elain took a scarred hand within her own and placed it over her heart then.

“Let this be the reason.”

Azriel didn’t seem to be breathing anymore.

“You must know.” His voice was rough.

“You must know that I will do anything you ever ask of me.”

Elain looked at him and poured everything within her heart into her gaze.

“Then I will ask nothing more than for you to let me,” she whispered.

“Let me worry. Let me care.”

She paused, finding her courage.

“Let me in.”

Azriel’s gaze tightened at the soft plea.

“Let me see what it is you fear to be so unsightly.”

“Let me see it all.”

Let me protect you, keep you, and love you anyway.

Azriel only rested his head against hers, unable to speak.

But he nodded once in silent confirmation.

And Elain’s heart burst into song as they sat under a crescent moon.

A quiet moment passed before he spoke again, his breath caressing her own.

“I’ve been across the realm. I’ve seen seasons come and go, flown over the summer seas, over ancient forests and magnificent mountains and a thousand waning winters.”

Azriel looked to the female in his arms once again.

“But you,” he whispered, “are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Azriel traced her jaw with his fingers.

“And I am inclined to believe, Elain Archeron,” a scarred hand traced the swell of her lips,

“that every other beautiful thing in this world is dimmed to dust in the light of you walking this earth.”

Start this story at the beginning on AO3

#elriel #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #mutual softness #Az has dimples

[unrenderedfuture]

Everyone describe Borusa as hawkish so here’s Borusa attempting to find Theta and Koschei when they should be in his study hall instead of making out somewhere

#doctor who #Borusa doctor who #thoschei #classic who #meme #lol #classic doctor who meme #doctor who meme #theta sigma #Koschei

[a-koschyei]

when your fyp lands you in art history tok and you learn about tamara and the demon, and the russian poem it's derived from..... mind if i yell for a second ???

The poem is set in Lermontov's beloved Caucasus Mountains. It opens with the eponymous protagonist wandering the earth, hopeless and troubled. He dwells in infinite isolation, his immortality and unlimited power a worthless burden. Then he spies the beautiful Georgian Princess Tamara, dancing for her wedding, and in the desert of his soul wells an indescribable emotion. The Demon, acting as a brutal and powerful tyrant, destroys his rival: at his instigation, robbers come to despoil the wedding and kill Tamara's betrothed. The Demon courts Tamara, and Tamara knows fear, yet in him she sees not a demon nor an angel but a tortured soul. Eventually she yields to his embrace, but his kiss is fatal. And though she is taken to Heaven, the Demon is left again "Alone in all the universe, Abandoned, without love or hope!..."

#i've been so curious as to why kate deviated from the tales to make tamara koschei's love interest.... and now i get it. her brain !!!!!! #love finding easter eggs like this so thought i'd share! #but will be filing this poem away for insp bc the themes are so relevant #i don't think u guys understand once hozi.er fully drops this inferno album im going to lose it #♔ . ⧽ study *

[anthrologies]

Truth to Light

summary: morrigan returns to velaris after ending her mission in vallahan. when she learns of the valkyrie training that cassian and azriel oversee each morning, she decides to join them for their exercises. what she sees when she arrives to the training ring inspires her to confess her longest held secret — and accidentally reveal another in the process.

aka azriel is the literal last person to know who his mate is

read it on ao3

word count: 3,161

notes: this is the first piece of writing that I'm ever posting somewhere! very nervous about this lol :)

From her room in the River House, Morrigan could see the horizon begin to gray with the first light of the day. She’d already been awake for some minutes; had bathed and gone through her stretching routine and was just securing her braided hair with a leather tie. She turned to the drawers beside her and pulled out the training leathers that she would wear to the morning session at the House of Wind.

Mor had returned from her mission in Vallahan a few days ago, having called it quits after nearly a year spent in the kingdom with little progress made in securing their agreement to the peace treaty. Since her return to Velaris, she’d spent her days in meetings with Rhysand, Feyre, and the rest of their inner circle, trying to plan their next moves before Koschei could escalate the conflict that loomed ahead of them. Without Vallahan’s cooperation, the approaching war was sure to be bloody.

It was in yesterday’s meetings that Cassian mentioned the training that he and Azriel had been conducting at the House of Wind. Nesta had started it all, he’d said. She’d invited Illyrian women and the priestesses from the Library to join; a small but dedicated group had formed, led by Nesta herself and some friends she’d made.

“She’s studied the old Valkyrie fighting techniques, and combined them with the Illyrian style,” Cassian said, beaming. “She and her friends won the last Blood Rite. Two of them are Carynthian.” Beside him, Azriel had a proud smile on his face.

Every morning at dawn, they’d told her. And the mother knew that Mor had some frustration to let out of her system. Sparring with Nesta Archeron seemed as good a way as any to relieve it. Mor would see for herself what the female could do.

She tightened the last straps of her boots and faced the mirror in her room to do a final assessment. Her eyes were tired, the skin beneath them still puffy thanks to the hours she’d spent at Rita’s the night before. But she couldn’t spend another day sitting in meeting after meeting with Rhys and Amren bickering incessantly beside her. So she’d forced herself to leave the comfort of her bed after only a few hours of sleep, determined to make this day productive in some capacity. A final glance to the window revealed that the sky had lightened further, the horizon nearing blue. 

With an exhale and a blink, Mor was gone.

Rhysand’s grip around Mor’s waist loosed as he touched down outside the training ring at the top of the House of Wind. 

“I have to go to Windhaven to bring Emerie in,” he said as he released her, her feet finding stability on the ground. “Be nice to Nesta, please,” he said with a teasing smile.

“I’ll be exactly as nice as she is to me,” Mor responded, winking. Rhysand rolled his eyes and laughed before taking flight again. A few flaps of his wings, and he was gone, disappearing into the sky as he winnowed to fetch the Illyrian who would join them.

Mor tightened the guard on her forearm as she turned toward the ring. After a year in Vallahan, she wasn’t exactly in top form. She’d wanted to come a few minutes early to start warming up before the others arrived, but as she looked up from the straps that she adjusted, she saw that she wasn’t the first person here. Nor the second.

In one of the fighting rings, Azriel sparred with a copper-haired female. Mor paused at the edge of the ring to observe. The female had a white ribbon tied around her head; and to be here so early, she must be one of the priestesses. Gwyn, Mor remembered. Cassian had said the Valkyrie priestess was named Gwyn. One of the two Carynthian females.

Mor watched as Gwyn dodged Azriel’s blade, dancing away from him with expert speed and precision. Where Azriel swiped right, Gwyn pivoted to the left and blocked his blade with her own. When he swung his sword toward her chest, Gwyn dove and rolled to dodge his blow. From her years of training with Azriel, Mor knew that he wasn’t going easy on the priestess. No, Mor thought, she’s really that good.

Mor watched as Gwyn swung her own blade toward Azriel, nearly grazing the Shadow Singer’s thigh, but he flapped his wings to lift himself above the slice she made. It would have been a brutal blow if she’d landed it.

“Not fair!” Gwyn shouted between panting breaths. Azriel laughed as his feet found the ground again.

“It is fair. What good are these wings if I can’t use them to my advantage in battle?” he said to her with a smile. “Your enemies on the field will use any advantage they can to beat you – you need to assess every possible angle they could use to best you.”

“Well, this isn’t a battlefield, it’s a training ring,” Gwyn huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “And if I can’t fly then I don’t think you should be able to, either.”

Azriel laughed again, and Gwyn scowled. 

“Let’s get some water and then move into stretching,” he said. “The others should get here soon.”

Gwyn turned on her heel and stomped over to find her skin of water along the fence. Azriel, still smiling, turned his own back to search for his supply. Mor watched as the shadows that trailed the Illyrian seemed to dance toward the priestess. As if unable to stay away from her for the few moments it would take Azriel to hydrate.

The corners of her mouth tugged upward, her lips parting slightly, as Mor saw the truth that hung between the male and the female in front her.

Holy gods.

Mor was blinking, processing her realization when Cassian and Nesta emerged from the stairway behind her.

“Mor!” Cassian called. “Welcome to the pain cave. Hope you’re ready for an ass-whooping, courtesy of my wife.”

Mor wiped the shock from her face as she turned to face her friend and his mate. Beside Cassian, Nesta had a sinister smile on her face.

“Nice to see you again, Morrigan,” she said.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Mor responded, matching Nesta’s expression. Oh, they would have fun today.

Nesta broke away from Cassian and moved to find Gwyn. Behind her, Mor sensed Azriel approaching.

“How long have you been here?” the Shadow Singer asked.

“Long enough to see you barely miss that blow from the Valkyrie,” Mor teased. Azriel and Cassian both looked to where Gwyn and Nesta now stood, stretching and talking. From the way Gwyn glared at Azriel, it was clear she was describing their match. Nesta smirked as Gwyn recalled the story.

Azriel smiled to himself, gazing toward the priestess, amusement in his eyes. “She’s good, isn’t she?” he asked.

Mor knew the question wasn’t directed to anyone in particular, but she responded, “I have to admit I’m impressed. Although, I’ve seen you two train enough warriors over the centuries, so I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“What Nesta has been able to do, getting these females to learn to fight, reviving Valkyrie techniques… it’ll be a game-changer in the war with Koschei,” Cassian said. Azriel nodded his agreement. 

“If they can all fight like that priestess, then I’d say that Koschei has no idea the kind of hell that’s coming for him,” Mor said.

Rhysand appeared in the sky above them, flying down slowly with an Illyrian woman. 

“Thank you, High Lord,” she said as he released her. Rhys inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“Emerie, I’ve told you that you can call me by my name,” he said. “We see each other damn near every morning.”

She laughed brightly. “Well then, thank you, Rhysand,” she said. With a wave to him and to his brothers beside him, she moved to meet Nesta and Gwyn where they stood at the opposite edge of the training ring. From the stairs leading to the House of Wind, more priestesses began to emerge, some already stretching their arms across their bodies in preparation for the day’s exercises.

Rhys turned to the family beside him. “Is there anything else you lot need from me this morning, or can I return to my bed with my mate and son?” he said tiredly.

“We’ve got it from here,” Cassian said, clapping a hand on Rhys’s shoulder. “Go get some sleep, brother.”

As Rhys flew up and winnowed back to the River House, Cassian and Azriel stepped forward into the training ring. Mor extended a hand, grabbing Azriel’s bicep before he could get too far. At her touch, he hung back. When Cassian was a few paces ahead, Mor turned to her friend.

“Do you have any time this afternoon for a conversation?” she asked.

“About Vallahan?”

“No, something else. It’s important. I should’ve mentioned it a while ago.”

Azriel’s brows laced together, his mouth turned downward with concern. “Alright, I have some time after our meetings before I need to check in with my spies. Will that work?” Mor nodded.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” she said. She let go of his arm and glanced toward the Valkyries. Emerie’s face looked almost pained. Nesta was staring at her with narrowed eyes. Gwyn was biting her lip, and Mor saw that the priestess was looking at her, at the hand she had touched Azriel with, with caution in her eyes. Mor offered a gentle smile to the female before she turned toward the weapons rack to choose which sword she would use to whoop Nesta’s ass with, as Cassian had so eloquently put it.

That afternoon, Mor sat curled in a large chair in the River House’s library, gazing at the sparkling Sidra outside. She cupped a mug of warm tea in her hands, inhaling the curling steam.

Nesta had indeed whooped her ass that morning. When she got past her embarrassment, Mor had to admit that Nesta was a damn fine fighter. She’d made a point to tell her as much; Nesta, of course, hadn’t taken the compliment graciously, responding with a simple I know. Mor had had to bite back a retort. Swallowing her pride, she asked Nesta if they could spar again the next morning. 

“I’m out of practice,” Mor had said. “A few sessions should have me back in fighting form, and then I’ll be eager to see how we match.”

“It will be my pleasure to best you again tomorrow,” Nesta responded as she polished her sword. “And the next day. And the next day. And the day after that. And the –”

Cassian had called out to Nesta for help restringing a bow, almost certainly having kept a listening ear on their conversation, readying to diffuse their tension. Mor smiled at the memory. Having Nesta around might not be so bad after all. Amren would never practice with her, and Feyre was a good fighter, but Mor liked her High Lady too much to really try to win in a match against her. Mor massaged the sore muscles in her thigh. Yes, with Nesta, she’d have a worthy rival.

Behind her, the library doors opened, and she turned to see Azriel enter the room. Shadows swirled around him. Mor could sense his nervousness, could see how his shoulders lifted up toward his ears, tight with stress. It had been a long time – decades, maybe even centuries – since they’d sat in a room together just the two of them, without Cassian or Rhysand between them. She gestured to the chair opposite her in invitation to sit.

“Tea?” she offered, leaning toward the steaming pot on the low table between them. “It’s a special blend, I brought the leaves home with me from Vallahan.” Azriel nodded, and Mor poured him a mug.

Azriel took a sip of the tea and leaned back in the chair, but Mor could see that he wasn’t relaxed. “So, what did you need to discuss with me?” he asked.

Mor sighed, gazing into the mug of tea that she held in her hands. “Something I should have told you a long time ago,” she said. She could have sworn that Azriel winced.

And so Mor told him her story. Told him why, all those years ago, she’d chosen Cassian over him. Told him why she’d avoided his advances ever since, about her preferences regarding males and females. Told him about Andromache, the lover she lost after the War, the man that her lover had gone on to marry and have children with before dying a mortal death in the human lands. Told him of her fleeting relationships since that last time she’d seen the human woman, of her nights out at Rita’s. Told him of the secret affairs she’d had with females since then, why she paraded some of her male lovers around in an effort to dissuade Azriel. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “for the hurt I’ve caused you over these years. Everything I did was an effort to protect you, even if it didn’t end up that way in practice. I just… couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. Even now, no one else knows. Except for Feyre. For some reason, it felt easier to tell her. But I hope that you can understand why it’s difficult for me to confess this.”

Azriel was quiet. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the tea that he held between his hands.

“Please say something,” Mor said softly, pleading.

After what felt like an eternity, but must have only been a few breaths, Azriel said, “Why tell me this now?”

Mor blinked in surprise.

“I appreciate you telling me this, Mor,” he said, “but why tell me now? What changed? Did you meet someone in Vallahan?”

Mor’s brows pulled together, her mouth turning into a slight frown. “I–” she started, but paused. She exhaled, shaking her head. “No, I didn’t meet anyone in Vallahan.”

“So… why? Something must have changed.”

Mor blinked again. “Because I saw you this morning. With your mate,” she said. “That’s what changed.”

Azriel stilled, not a fiber of muscle moving beneath his flying leathers.

“With my… what?”

“Your mate…” she said, her voice softening. 

Oh, gods. He didn’t know.

Azriel looked up at her with hardened eyes, his mouth a tight line across his face. “Don’t fuck with me like this, Mor.”

Her hand drifted over her mouth. Azriel’s eyes bored into hers, tendrils of shadows curling on the ground like black fog. The room around them seemed to darken despite the sun shining through the windows.

“I’m not–”

“Who?” Azriel said. “Who is she?”

“I–” Mor hesitated. She closed her mouth, made herself meet the Shadow Singer’s stare. She took a breath, trying to calm her shaking lower lip.

“The priestess. Gwyn.”

Azriel’s face contorted into an unreadable expression at the sound of her name. Was that… pain? Or confusion? Anger? He stood suddenly, sending his chair crashing back to the floor, the mug of tea spilling on the floor in front of him, the clay cup shattering. The room darkened further. He began to pace the library, hands pulling at his hair.

“Azriel, I didn’t realize… I wouldn’t have… I thought you knew. When I saw you two this morning, I thought you knew.” Mor’s voice shook as she spoke.

Azriel’s breath was quickening, every exhale loud and angry.

“I’m so sorry, Az,” Mor said, tears beginning to line her eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t know, ruin this for you.”

Azriel stopped suddenly in the center of the room. In an instant, the space around them lightened again, just slightly. His hands fell from his face and he looked at Mor with an intensity that she had never seen in their 500 years of friendship.

“I am not angry with you,” he said. “I am angry with myself. I am grateful to you for telling me.”

A small sob escaped Mor’s throat. She couldn’t stop the tears that fell from her eyes.

“I might’ve gone another 500 years without realizing, if you hadn’t said anything to me,” he continued. “I see it now. I’m beginning to see it.” Indeed, his eyes looked distant, lost in thought as he recounted all of his interactions with Gwyn over the last months, seeing them in a new light. Mor swore she saw the corner of his mouth tick upward, just a bit, into something like a smile. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Mor, I need some privacy to think about things,” he said. Mor nodded her head, beginning to rise from the chair where she’d curled into a ball. Her legs wobbled beneath her as she stood, but she took a few shaky steps toward the exit. Azriel held the heavy wooden door open as she exited.

“Thank you, Mor,” he said quietly. She looked at his face and found kindness, even joy, dancing in his eyes. “For sharing the truth with me.”

She understood the dual meaning behind his words and nodded in acknowledgment. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.

Azriel let the library door close behind her as she exited the room, its weight sealing the room with a satisfying thud. She made her way down the hall, to the top of the stairs, grabbing the bannister for support as she walked. Below, in the River House’s foyer, she saw Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian all looking up at her with smiles on their faces.

“We’ve been waiting for him to figure that out for months,” Rhys said to her as she descended the stairs. “Thank you for ripping that bandage off for us.”

Mor looked to Feyre. “How much else did you hear?”

“We didn’t hear a thing,” the High Lady said, her voice silkened with reassuring warmth.

“We only saw the shadows fill the House,” Cassian said. “We figured it out from there.”

Mor made her way to stand between Feyre and Cassian, the former wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her into a hug. As Mor hugged her friend back, she realized that she felt different. Lighter; as if a weight had been lifted that she didn’t know she’d carried all these centuries. She buried her face into Feyre’s hair as a smile broke across her face.

With a last squeeze, Mor pulled from her friend’s embrace and turned to face the two males who stood with them.

“In that case,” she said, “there’s more to the story that I owe to you two, as well.”

Rhys and Cassian raised their brows in interest, and Mor turned to lead them into the office behind where they stood. Feyre, beside her, reached an arm over to grasp Mor’s hand. With a comforting squeeze from her High Lady, Mor pushed open the wooden doors, ready to take the next step into her truth.

#morrigan #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acotar fanfiction

[areyoudreaminof]

Future Rust and Future Dust

Prologue, Chapter 1

While Elain and Lucien have settled into their relationship on the mortal lands, time is running out for Vassa. When Koschei comes for the firebird queen, he also wants his payment. Meanwhile, Beron Vanserra has worked with the Mortal Queens and Koschei for power in Prythian. With the clock ticking, can Koschei and Beron be defeated?

It's here. My very first longfic! I plan to have a chapter every up every Monday.

____________________________________________________

The chair was stiffer than he would have liked.

Unreasonably tall and straight backed, it swallowed Greaysen Nolan whole. His head could not clear the top edge while the bottom of his feet barely scraped the floor, and he had been waiting in it for a quarter of an hour. Bouncing his right leg, he stared at his golden pocket watch again. 

The hands seemed to crawl on the mechanical face. There was no magic here, he reminded himself. This was a neutral spot, far from Prythian, deep in a protected corridor in the Arbonne Royal Court. Queen Heloise sat to his right, while the Fae High Lord sat directly across from him. The Baron he was called. His dark brown hair was threaded with silver, though it seemed to clash with his ageless face. Greysen studied the fae male, looking for any resemblance to the red-headed son who’d stolen his bride. He could find nothing.

“So, that’s it, then? Briallyn is dead?” Heloise said, choking on vowels in a way that was deeply unpleasant to Greysen. 

“That’s it. Fell right into a trap and got herself killed. I presume you have split up her lands amongst yourselves?” The Baron asked in a bored tone. 

Heloise drew in a sharp breath. “I thought she had contacts in the Night Court? I thought—” 

The Baron chuckled, “No, Your Majesty, I have contacts in the Night Court. She was a runner. My liaisons answer and report to me.” 

Greysen knew there were spies carefully placed by the Baron throughout the fae lands. There was someone in a library, he remembered vaguely. 

“In any case, Briallyn got too caught up in her own vengeance against the Made female and getting the Cauldron. Had she waited and properly sworn herself, her youth and beauty would have been restored.” The Baron continued, flicking a hand absently, as if he was swatting away a gnat. Perhaps that’s all the crone queen was, Greysen thought, just a gnat. 

Was he just a gnat to them? Greysen wondered. 

As if he had spoken aloud, the Baron’s sneering voice rang in his ears, “Well then, merchant. Have you any new information on the human lands south of the wall? Last I heard, you were having trouble keeping your ships away from the prisons housing Scythian rebels.” The Baron chuckled as his flat brown eyes caught Greysen in their grasp. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” 

“N-no, Your Grace. My understanding is that those ships were independent merchants, unaligned with the guild. They have no—”

The Baron barked a laugh. “He truly thinks he’d make a good king with that sputtering,” the Baron said to Heloise, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. “If you hadn’t wasted time fucking your way around the good Queen’s court, you’d have more control over your own ports. Now, let me ask you again. Why are human merchants from your sad strip of land smuggling Scythians out?” 

The Baron raised a colorless brow. 

Greysen took a deep breath and braced himself. “The Mad General and Queen Vassa have made some alliances. Widows of merchants, mostly,” he corrected, as Heloise took in a sharp breath beside him. “All I know is that they’ve taken some political prisoners and rebels from Bharat and Neva. I don’t know where they’ve hidden them, but they haven’t set foot on my shores.” Greysen finished, trying to hold back a twitch. 

The Baron smiled as he gestured to Queen Heloise. “Well, Majesty? Does his explanation satisfy your curiosity?” The queen did not reply, instead casting a scathing look at Greysen, hatred burning in her eyes. 

“No,” Heloise hissed. “If that was all it was, there wouldn’t be riots in Tendukorum. The nomads wouldn’t have pushed back our armies into Rask. Her cousin cannot maintain order. Queen Linnea has pulled her forces out. The rebels must have contact with Vassa!” 

The Baron scoffed at the queen, whose face had turned a deep shade of purple in her fury. “Queen Vassa goes back to the lake in a month's time. When the first snow falls as the Wolf Moon rises,” Beron continued, steepling  his fingers, “I can negotiate for more help with your little…uprising in Scythia. But you, little boy,” he snapped, turning to Greysen, “had better get those nasty little merchants under control. Find the queen’s allies, sink their ships, kill them, I don’t particularly care. If you cannot maintain control, I can easily send a regent down. You wouldn’t want that would you?” 

Greysen gulped. “No, Your Grace,” he whispered. 

“Good.” The Baron took a long sip of wine, much to the queen's annoyance. “Prepare your ships to blockade the coast. Vassa’s recapture must be smooth. Koschei will take her, and I don’t want anyone heading for the taiga or the lake.” The Baron rose from his chair, and Greysen took in just how tall the male was. The Bareon addresses Heloise over his shoulder as he headed for the large oak door: “You can continue your little scuffle with the ponies. I’d suggest putting them down quickly. Rask has become quite impatient.” 

The door swung shut behind him, landing with a thick thud. Though he could not hear, Greysen knew the Baron had vanished back to the fae lands in Prythian. 

“He thinks to make a fool of me, does he?” Heloise whispered with pure venom. “He truly believes Koschei will not help me after all I’ve done for him?” The white powder on her face had bunched up in the lines of her mouth and brows, Greysen noticed. “I gave him Vassa! The Baron knows nothing of her heritage, or how much Koschei wanted her. And I delivered her!”

Heloise slumped down in her chair, clenching the leather arms with white fingers. “Any news of the Scythian rebels?” She asked.

“My mercenaries can’t seem to catch General Batu, but we think he may be hiding in Baharat,” Greysen said. “The Brightons have smuggled most of the Scythian soldiers out, and they’ve set up camp along the Scythian coast. They mean to march on the lake, I think.” Greysen closed his eyes as Heloise roared. He opened them in time to find Heloise crossing the room, the tendons in her neck bulging. She grabbed the crystal decanter of wine hurled it against the wall, glass shattering and wine staining the floral wallpaper. 

“You were meant to take care of this!” Heloise spat, her finger pointed in his chest. “I should have you drawn and quartered! I should have your lands!" She slapped him hard across the face. Greysen ignored the stinging on his cheek. Heloise began to pace the room, steadying her breath. 

“You will kill the Mad General when Vassa is taken. You will do everything in your power to control the little villagers you call people. Am I understood?” Her breath, laced with the stink of hunger and decay, filled his nostrils. A warning.

"Yes, your Majesty. Vassa will be taken to the lake, and I will bring you the Mad General's head." Greysen said, swallowing his fear. "I swear it."

TAGLIST: @asnowfern @wilde-knight @witch-and-her-witcher @acourtofladydeath @born-to-riot @damedechance @foundress0fnothing @iftheshoef1tz @talons-and-teeth @foreverinelysian @gaeleria @helion-ism @itsthedoodle @kataravimes-of-the-shire @krem-has-a-mess @kingofsummer93 @lidiacervos @lucienarcheron @labellefleur-sauvage @melting-houses-of-gold @octobers-veryown @popjunkie42-blog @reverie-tales @rainbow-panda-food @spell-cleavers @thesistersarcheron @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @sassyhobbits @secret-third-thing @separatist-apologist @vulpes-fennec @velidewrites @xtaketwox @rosanna-writer @chunkypossum @mossytrashcan

#elucien #elucien fic #elain x lucien

[lorcandidlucienwill]

SJM's zionism as seen in ACOTAR: Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant—but the ones in the Spring Court … something had festered in their training.

Haha, what? You were just fine with them before, they revered you and respected you, and now they're suddenly suspicious because they live under Tamlin? It's giving "Ohhhh look at Hamas see see see? All Muslims are terrorists!" And I'm almost certain this is the justification SJM uses for Feyre to genocide the shit out of them in ACOWAR. HyBeRn'S aCtIoNs ArE tHeIr OwN sounds remarkably like Israel using October 7th to justify killing babies, maiming children, and abusing the elderly. They use this same mentality towards CoN citizens too despite Mor coming from there. But notice how Mor is somehow white. “Most of your soldiers are dead.” Eris only blinked. “And the good news?” “Two of them survived.” Nesta studied every minute shift on Eris’s face: rage glimmering in his eyes, displeasure in his pursed lips, annoyance in the fluttering of a muscle in his jaw. As if countless questions were racing through his mind. Eris’s voice remained flat, though. “And who did this?” Cassian grimaced. “Technically, Azriel and I did. Your soldiers were enchanted by Queen Briallyn and Koschei to be mindless killers. They attacked us in the Bog of Oorid, and we were left with no choice but to kill them.” “And yet two survived. How convenient. I assume they received Azriel’s particular brand of interrogation?” Eris’s voice dripped disdain. “We could only manage to contain two,” Cassian said tightly. “Under Briallyn’s influence, they were practically rabid.” “Let’s not lie to ourselves. You only bothered to contain two, by the time your brute bloodlust ebbed away.” Nesta saw red at the words, and Cassian sucked in a breath. “We did what we could. There were two dozen of them.” Eris snorted. “There were certainly more than that, and you could have easily spared more than two. But I don’t know why I’d expect someone like you to have done any better.” “Do you want me to apologize?” Cassian snarled. Nesta’s heart began to pound wildly at the anger darkening his voice, the pain brightening his eyes. He regretted it—he hadn’t liked killing those soldiers. “Did you even try to spare the others, or did you just launch right into a massacre?” Eris seethed. Cassian hesitated. Nesta could have sworn she saw the words land their blow. No, Cassian had not hesitated.

Cassian and Azriel are super duper mega warriors and they didn't even bother to try and save Eris's soldiers despite knowing they're innocent, yet we're expected to take Cassian's side over Eris's. It's giving "Israeli soldiers are traumatized over all the civilians they were 'forced' to kill" DAMN RIGHT YOU SHOULD BE TRAUMATIZED!!!

But Keir must have known, too. And said simply to Rhysand, “I want out. I want space. I want my people to be free of this mountain.” “You have every comfort,” I finally said. “And yet it is not enough?” Keir ignored me as well. As I’m sure he ignored most women in his life. It's giving, "I will colonize your land, I will trap your people in Gaza strip and systematically oppress you, but hey we didn't kill you! Why are you mad??" Also the white feminism in that last line I can't. THERE ARE WOMEN TRAPPED UNDERNEATH THAT MOUNTAIN GETTING ABUSED EVERY DAY!!!! It's the same reason no one cares that Palestinian women don't have clean menstrual supplies and no anesthesia for clean births. Because Palestinians are brown.

So Keir knew about Velaris. The Hewn City knew about Velaris. Before Rhys wiped their memory. This is a lot like Israel occupying Palestine and rewriting history to make it seem like they're the country and Palestine are the occupiers. But they can't delete all the evidence, and now the truth has come out.

#anti sjm #anti zionism #palestine #anti genocide #white feminism #anti acotar #anti sarah j maas

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Tempests and Urges

Slowly, Lucien turned his head and his gaze found hers. Everything quieted. The house’s inhabitants were gathered around Lucien, talking about what he could expect, but Elain focused only on the male in front of her. She tried to convey her apology and sorrow and want with her eyes, frozen with indecision and unable to say what she wanted.

Lucien stared back at her, and while she could so clearly see his own sadness and longing reflected in his brilliant russet eye, he gave her a small, slow bow and turned away. Elain’s stomach dropped. He was going to leave her, and Elain would be stuck in this house like a neglected piece of furniture, without the one being who had a hope of truly understanding and listening to her. She took a half step down the stairs at the same time Lucien turned to Rhys and nodded his head…

“Wait!”

...

"Take me with you."

Chapter II of my gift for @stickyelectrons for the @acotargiftexchange! Thank you for your patience (the holidays were busy!) but I'm excited to share this next chapter with you! Wishing everyone a happy new year!

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XXX

II.

When Lucien rose that morning, never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined how the day would turn out: interrupted by Elain Archeron when he was seconds away from being sent to the Continent, and the same woman insisting on joining him on his quest to find the lost mortal queen. Secretly, when Elain announced her intentions and Nesta questioned if she had been placed under a spell, Lucien had the same thought as the eldest Archeron. But as Elain made her case to her sisters, her eyes had filled with the eerily familiar fight and stubbornness he’d seen countless times in Feyre’s eyes. Perhaps that was just an Archeron trait, he thought. 

Another apparent Archeron trait: sheer willpower. Lucien thought that this particular characteristic may have skipped over Elain, but as they came to at the base of a tremendous mountain range and Rhys vanished with a nod and a wisp of smoke, Elain simply took a look around at their surroundings then looked to Lucien with a determined look on her face. “So, which way?”

Lucien took out his map and showed Elain their approximate location. Montesere occupied the northwestern corner of the Continent, bordered by the sea on its northern and western shores, with rolling hills that grew to rocky mountains along its eastern edges. In an ideal world, they would be able to walk in a southeasterly direction to Koschei’s lake from their current location, without worrying about the Continent’s marauding thieves and criminals. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t be making this journey at all, Lucien thought, so any wishes for an easier route seemed a bit pointless. 

“How far are we from the western ports?” Elain asked, studying the map dotted with notes and diagrams. 

“About three days. There are some forests we can camp in each night.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

That was two days ago, and the pair hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since. Not that Lucien hadn’t tried to make conversation. He asked Elain about her hobbies–”What else do you enjoy growing in your garden?” or “Do you enjoy dancing?” even “Any other interests?”—and all he received were one word answers or an unimpressed ‘hmph’ that even Lucien, master flirt and wordsmith that he was, didn’t know how to expand upon to further their conversations. Elain never asked him anything other than confirmation that they were on track to the port, so Lucien took the hint. 

Lucien thought he and Elain would finally discuss what tied them together. Clearly, Elain insisted on joining him for reasons other than being alone with him for an extended period of time, working together towards a common cause and getting to know each other.

Mates. Cauldron, even months after the bond snapped into place, Lucien was still winded by the knowledge that he had a mate. No, that perhaps didn’t surprise him; who his mate was, and wasn’t, was what he still couldn’t wrap his head around. 

He had thought it before and he thought it now: Jesminda was the exact opposite of Elain. Jesminda, full of life and laughter, fearless, confident and secure in herself and what she stood for. She always had a smile for Lucien, and matched his fire with her own unique warmth. 

Elain held no warmth or happiness for Lucien. Not that she needed any, he thought. She owed him nothing, even as his inner beast wanted to grab her shoulders, make her look at him, make her listen to him as he begged and pleaded his case for why he was a worthy male for her. 

Guilt over Jesminda and his newfound happiness at discovering his mate still warred within him. Much of Lucien’s time and thoughts since discovering the mating bond had been devoted to reconciling his feelings towards the female he had once loved so fiercely. 

He had moved on from Jesminda, or, as moved on as one could be after watching the female he thought was his mate murdered before his own eyes. He hadn’t been…unhappy, for some time, per se, but had been merely existing for the past several hundred years. Some decades were better than others, but Lucien had long ago lost the wonder and excitement that rising each day once brought him. Lucien had accepted Jesminda’s death and the inevitability that he would never know such love and happiness again.

But then Hybern happened. The Cauldron happened.

And now here, right in front of him, was the most breathtaking female he had ever seen. His heart called out to hers, even as his head cautioned him to slow down, to stop these dangerous and near traitorous thoughts. A small part of him still loved Jesminda, and most likely always would; was it wrong of him to one day move on, to want to feel the love and desire that he’d once had, but with someone else?

Did he even deserve this love? He had done so much wrong in his life, and for the Mother to still bless him with the most beautiful female he’d ever seen… 

“Will you stop sighing back there? Whatever it is you’re thinking about, you’re being more dramatic than Nesta when Feyre wouldn’t give her money for a new pair of shoes.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. They had formed an unspoken walking pattern: one ten feet in front of the other, never talking except for directions, and always looking ahead. At first it bothered him, but as Lucien began walking behind Elain, getting a generous view of her bottom and legs in the tight Illyrian leathers everyone in the Night Court insisted on wearing, he decided to keep his mouth shut. 

Not now, though. “I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who started a public family fight after you had barely spoken anything for weeks because you wanted to accompany me in finding this mortal queen. I’d love to know why exactly you’re here, by the way, because it clearly wasn’t to get to know me.” Lucien paused. “Why did Nesta need money from Feyre?”

Elain turned to face him, a pretty pink blush staining her cheeks. “It’s really none of your business–”

“It seems you’ve forgotten I already know quite a bit about your family business, thanks to you.”

“But before, when we were humans, Feyre, er, hunted and supplied our family with most of our money,” Elain rushed out, looking back ahead. Lucien could have sworn she started walking faster as well. 

“Feyre said you all wouldn’t last a month after she came to the Spring Court, but I didn’t think she was being serious.” Lucien stuffed his hands in his pockets as best he could with his heavy pack on his back and raised a condescending eyebrow, despite the fact that Elain wasn’t looking at him. “So you willingly let Feyre hunt and starve herself to provide everything for your family?” 

Elain stopped and turned to face him, her face red, legs wide and clenched fists by her side. The stance of someone getting ready for a fight. “Right, because as the son of a High Lord, you know everything about doing any sort of hard work to survive?”

Lucien sneered. If Elain knew what being the son of Beron Vanserra truly entailed, she’d wipe that leer off her pink lips. Lucien could tell her of the times he’d been struck or hit for any perceived slight towards his father, or the time he’d been plied with liquor until he passed out and his father’s cronies winnowed his unconscious body to a desolate forest on the other side of Autumn Court with nothing on him except his clothes and a note, telling him to find his way back to the Forest House in time for dinner, all because Lucien had made a few too many jokes with a visiting nobleman. 

Lucien could easily have told Elain all this and more, and how each and every instance of cruelty and malice prepared Lucien for a hard life of doing anything to survive. But she wouldn’t be able to comprehend or truly understand what he’d gone through, how truly monstrous the fae were. Or perhaps worse, those big brown eyes of hers would fill with pity. 

He’d received enough pitying looks to last him a lifetime. Instead, Lucien took a step towards her. “I at least know how to fish, so I guess you could say I do. More than you, at least.”

“Wonderful,” Elain spat. “If anything should happen to us, we can call upon your supposedly superb ability to catch a fish to save us.”

“You forget I’m also a skilled warrior.” Another step closer to his mate. “In fact, I’m very comfortable with all manner of swords in different lengths,” he purred, raising a single eyebrow suggestively and smirking. 

Most females needed very little convincing to lay down and raise their skirts whenever Lucien used that tone of voice and moved his lips like that. The female in front of him, however, wasn’t like that, Lucien realized a second later.

Elain laughed mockingly. “Well, Feyre gave me a knife the size of my pinky–I’m assuming that’s the length you’re the most familiar with?”

Lucien frowned. “I know Feyre has an attitude, but I incorrectly assumed you were better than your younger sister in that regard.”

“I do not have an attitude!”

“Feyre also single-handedly saved all of Prythian while she was Under the Mountain, and is working tirelessly to save us all again, so I suppose the attitude is warranted,” Lucien said loudly, ignoring Elain.

“And you almost destroyed all of Prythian, and my life, when you allied with Hybern and turned me into…this, so I think my attitude is justified as well!” 

Lucien bit his tongue. He’d apologized for that, and deeply regretted not being more assertive with Tamlin when things with Hybern progressed, even when Lucien’s conscious screamed at him day after day that what they were doing was wrong, that nothing, not even Feyre, was worth betraying everyone and sullying themselves by allying with Hybern. The guaranteed abuse from Tamlin would have been preferable to what transpired. 

“As I said, Lady, I apologize,” Lucien gritted. “It was never my intention to cause you or anyone harm.”

Elain scoffed. “Is that the best apology you can make? I thought there would be more groveling from the male who took everything from me.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?”

This time it was Elain who took a step towards him. She planted her hands on her hips. “Would you even know what to do if you went on your knees before me?”

Cauldron help him. Maybe the Mother knew exactly what she was doing when she decided the two of them should be mates. The fire dancing in her eyes called out to his own warmth, and the blood pulsing through his body called out to her. He wondered if Elain could hear how fast his heart was beating at that moment, in sheer excitement and want. 

It had been some time since he’d wanted anyone this desperately.

Lucien took the final step towards Elain. He glanced down at her flushed face, his gaze lingering on her lips when her tongue peeked out to wet them. She was breathing fast, and her eyes looked slightly glazed. “I will gladly get on my knees–”

Elain gasped and her body went stiff. “The crow will strike with bloody wings,” she mumbled, staring at something over his shoulder. “Its children will turn the sky black as night.”

“Oh hell,” Lucien muttered as Elain swayed on the spot. He eyed her nervously as her hazy eyes continued staring off into the distance. This was obviously a vision, and like her previous ones, frustratingly vague and cryptic. “Elain?” he called softly after a few moments. 

Nothing. It was like she had fallen asleep standing up. Lucien snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Elain?” Still no response. He gave her a few more moments and looked around. There was nothing of interest behind him that she could be staring at. He sighed, unsure what to do. Would she simply…come to, on her own? Did she need to be forcefully brought back to the present?

Clearly, standing stock still in the middle of nowhere wasn’t conducive to breaking her out of her trance, so more immediate action needed to be taken. Tentatively, Lucien reached out and wrapped his hands gently around her upper arms and gave her just the smallest shake. “Elain?”

Cauldron, what was going on inside her mind that couldn’t be broken? “I hope you remember more about your vision than I do, because I wasn’t paying attention to the first part,” he grumbled. 

Enough of this–they had to keep moving, and if he had to be the one to move both of them, so be it. Lucien bent down below Elain to wrap his hands around her knees right as she gasped.

“What are you doing down there?! I wasn’t serious about you getting on your knees! Get away!”

“Ah, stop it!” Lucien threw up his arms to protect his face from Elain’s swinging hands. “You had a vision and were just standing there like a statue, I was going to carry you so we could keep moving! Stop trying to hit me!”

“I lose myself for a few seconds and you try to make a move on me! I thought you’d be more of a gentleman!” Elain stepped away from Lucien and smoothed her hands over her unruly hair and clothes, shooting him a suspicious glare. 

“Who told you I was a gentleman?”

Elain blushed, and Lucien decided he very much enjoyed how the color elevated her pretty face. “I just assumed, being the son of a High Lord, that you would have manners and courtesy becoming of your station.”

Lucien barked a laugh. “Fae nobility doesn’t operate under the same ideals of goodness as humans, Elain. Me being the son of a High Lord means nothing to me, and I am by no means a gentleman, as you will soon come to find out,” he promised, grinning at her with all his teeth exposed.

Elain inhaled sharply. “And I think,” Lucien continued, stepping back into her personal space, “that you don’t really want a gentleman, do you?”

From this close up, Lucien could smell her sweet honey and jasmine scent, along with an altogether new and entirely different scent. Faint, so faint, but the burgeoning scent of her excitement danced across his tongue. He nearly groaned. 

Lucien knew just enough about Elain’s former betrothed to get the measure of him: the son of a general from a safe, respectable, predictable family that probably considered organizing their vast weapons collection as the highlight of their year. Looking at Elain now, her breath quick and scent excited, Lucien knew she’d be permanently bored and miserable should she have married that mortal. No, Elain perhaps didn’t have the same fire as her sisters, but she was intense in her own ways and needed someone to challenge her all the same. She needed excitement. She needed an adventure.

It could certainly just be the mating bond riding them, making them feel this way, but he didn’t think it was just that. This close to her, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of anticipation and surprise in the way her eyes searched his face. Trust me, Lucien pleaded with his eyes. He reached out to their bond, the string connecting them, and slowly moved along it. Give me a chance…

She turned her nose up at him. “You’re wrong–I would very much appreciate a gentleman, someone kind and who doesn’t make untoward advances on me, specially right now.” Without another word, Elain turned around and began marching away, her boots stomping so hard into the ground small puffs of dirt arose with each step. 

He counted to ten in his head, feeling cold and frustrated in the aftermath of her rebuttal. “You’re going the wrong way!” Lucien called after her retreating form. 

Elain turned back and gave Lucien a glare filled with so much heat it could melt the icicles off the palace in the Winter Court. She stuck her middle finger up at him as she passed.

Another Archeron family trait. Lucien couldn’t help but chuckle. 

As much as he would like to follow Elain from a distance–annoyance did wonderful things to her bottom–they needed to discuss what just happened. Lucien jogged to catch up to Elain and matched her pace. “So, what was your vision about?”

Elain gave him a look from the corner of her eyes but relented with a frustrated sigh. “It was…blurry, even by what I normally experience,” she admitted. “Normally, I have an idea of what the vision is about–I’ve seen Vassa transform into a bird more times than I can count by now, and saw Hybern’s ravens in the Library. But this time, it was like trying to watch a play through a thick fog.”

“Why was this vision different?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice with thick with frustration. “It also may explain why I was unresponsive for several minutes. I tried to…follow the vision, get closer to what was happening in the hopes that I could see it better.”

Lucien paused. “That seems dangerous. I know very little about Seers, but I know the mind can be a very dangerous place to be stuck whenever powerful magic is around, even for the most proficient of fae.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? The only real skill I bring to this small operation are my visions, and that’s only if they’re actually useful to us,” she muttered irritably. 

Lucien didn’t agree–their earlier witty argument was already the highlight of his month, and they’d only been together for two days. He changed tactics. “Perhaps this vision is going to happen so far in the future that its details aren’t set in stone yet. Maybe it can still change, depending on what happens in the present, and that’s why you couldn’t see anything clearly.”

Elain sighed. “Perhaps. But why show it to me now, for me to worry over?”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“I just can’t not worry about it now,” Elain scoffed. 

“Then worry about it with me. I’m not here to fight with you, Elain,” Lucien said gently. “Regardless of how you feel about us, we need to work together, at least until we find Vassa. Can you do that?”

She bit her lip. “Of course, you’re right. We’re a team–” Lucien couldn’t help his smile, his heart soaring– “just until we find Vassa,” Elain ended. 

“Right,” Lucien muttered, his heart sinking back into the pit of his stomach. “Just until we find Vassa.”

But Lucien knew, as they continued walking in silence the rest of the day, that he wanted to try to be more with Elain than just temporary teammates. He’d experienced her wit and fire first hand, knew she was flawed like him and on some level desired him, and suspected, under her biting remarks, that she was kind and generous and good. The fact that she was utterly beautiful didn’t even factor in to his initial reasons of why he wanted to spend more time by her side.

Lucien now had two very pressing missions: find the last mortal queen who had been transformed into a firebird, and learn all he could about Elain Archeron.

“Did you care for any birds growing up?” Lucien asked conversationally later, after they had found a small copse of trees to shelter under during the night. Dinner had yielded an awkward conversation about the weather, along with their dried meats, bread and fruit. They were each laying on their respective bedrolls, staring at the night sky through the branches of the trees. 

Elain furrowed her brows and frowned. “What?”

“Well, this is the third time you’ve had a vision concerning birds; an odd coincidence, I wasn’t sure if you kept any birds as pets in your youth.”

“None at all.”

“Ah.” Lucien lightly drummed his fingers on the ground beneath him. “Do you like birds?”

“I’ve never thought about birds in any capacity until very recently,” Elain said blankly.

“Something we have in common. I, too, don’t care for birds, and after tonight, I never want to think about the flying pests ever again.”

To his delight, Elain gave a short laugh. “Finally, one thing we can agree on. Good night, Lucien.”

Lucien had charmed plenty of females before to know that getting them to laugh was one of the hardest obstacles to overcome in wooing. The fact that they had gone from arguing, to a tentative trust, to laughing, all in the space of one day was a very good sign, Lucien thought with a grin.

One step down, he thought happily as he drifted off to sleep, and only a million more to go.

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