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#nesta archeron
amandapearls · 2 days
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The Archeron Sisters ☀️🌙
This gorgeous artwork is done by the lovely and insanely talented @millyillus on Instagram
Commissioned by myself
Link to Instagram post
Characters belong to Sarah J Maas
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velidewrites · 1 day
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Nesta has fire in her blood, and she fucks like it, too
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highpriestessgwyn · 3 days
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Another incredible artist gone and I don’t blame them at all. Well done SJM fandom!!!!
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The fact that you are all grown women doing this just because someone disagrees with your ship, or doesn’t draw them is beyond pathetic.
Doxxing people and releasing very personal information about them and their family because they don’t ship what you ship, is not only ridiculous, but severely dangerous as well!!!!
The fact that these people are not only leaving the fandom because of the bullying they receive, but also because they fear being doxxed for simply drawing a ship, is very concerning for this fandom.
This fandom needs to sit back, reflect on their behaviour, and do better. You’re all grown women hating like men!!!!
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utterlyotterlyx · 2 days
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4 and/or 25 with Eris, please!
Lost In The Fire
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Eris x Fem!Reader
Warnings - mentions of arranged marriage, suggestive comments, lots of fluff
(not spell checked sorry x)
What if you - If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you. Don't leave me here alone.
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Balls had never been, nor ever would be, your thing.
The opulence that came with them was sickening, a waste of precious resources that could be put toward something more beneficial. The gold on display, the mountains of food that hardly anyone would touch that sat as a putrid reminder of power and wealth, and the stench of ale made your stomach churn with distaste.
You would forever curse your brother, Thesan, for giving you over to the Autumn Court, you understood that you had a duty to fulfil, and since you were the sister of one of the more liberal courts, with unmatched spiritual abilities, it meant that you were a high prize indeed.
You had long lost your usual clothing, red and gold loose fitting robes that still had the power to accentuate every feature you held lay dormant in your wardrobe and had been swapped out for tighter fitting garments in an arrangement of greens and browns and oranges. By order of Lady Autumn, of course.
There would be a day when her title would belong to you, and you always had to look the part.
It was a part you played well.
Marriage to Eris, the Heir of the Autumn Court, wasn't nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. It was lucky that your talents in spirituality were so advanced, and you were also lucky that his knowledge of your gifts was so little when you had first met.
Despite his cold exterior, you saw a small boy within him wanting more than anything to break free from the chains that bound him to his position. It was his only defence against his father. But, he knew that you could see through it, see through him in a way that no one else could and part of him was relieved to finally have someone who could understand him.
Things were still rocky, you struggled with their way of life, something Beron despised and spoke of frequently, saying he did not want you leading his court if you couldn't bend your morals and do what was needed. If turning your back on the people who needed you was too stiff, then you didn't want to be leading his court anyway.
But everything with Eris was good, more than good actually, you had actually come to care for him beyond the requirements of your marriage. Eris had moved your rooms opposite his own to have you closer to him, to have you speak him into newfound calm when his duties became too much; to have you closer to him so that he could soothe your clairvoyant episodes that pounced on you from nowhere.
It was meant to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage to forge new power and bonds and produce a litter of children who possessed both of your abilities. A new path for Autumn, a stronger path.
The clouds darkened on the horizon, the moon poked through their curls and illuminated them with a faint pale blue glow. Lanterns lined the garden paths below your window, Eris had made sure to give you the room with the best view, and you watched idly as high born nobles and invited guests to the nights festivities strolled down the cobbled stone paths arm in arm, pointing at the array of intricately carved white marble statues and fountains littered across the lawns, scattered between the hedges and lush flowerbeds.
Ladies swarmed you, tugging at your limbs and shimmying skirts up your legs before huffing and ripping them down again, tapping your calves to tell you to lift your feet so that they could try the next one. Lady Autumn ordered that racks upon racks of opulent dresses be wheeled into your chambers, it was important that you look your best in front of all of the nobles attending that evening, from Autumn and those from other courts.
Even Beron knew how powerful your opinion was to others, not like he would ever listen to it himself. You had been the one to accompany your brother to the High Lords meeting to find a path forward against Hybern. It was your grace and elegance that kept the meeting from boiling over since you were able to feel the emotions of others and force them to simmer down before they consumed the room. It was you who had been able to tell them all of Hyberns movements which no doubt gave them the edge they needed. It was you who saved dozens upon dozens of soldiers from all courts.
You had been the one to help Feyre with the complications with her pregnancy, you had been there for the birth of her son and had given a kernel of your own gift to keep her alive; it made you a very trusted ally to the Night Court, a friend. Helion wrote to you often asking for you opinions on research and inventions, even went as far as to ask for your input on some new policies he wanted to introduce to Day.
It was stupid to suggest that you wouldn't be the perfect High Lady.
Diplomatic. Gifted. Elegant. Poised.
And Eris adored every part of you that you decided to show him, he basked in it actually.
You weren't really paying attention as the ladies around you tugged at your hair and pulled another dress up your body, fitting it tightly around your breasts and hips before standing back and humming in approval. Then you looked.
An assortment of shimmering golds, burnt oranges and flecks of silver, all weaving between one another like the summer tides. It was sheer, enough to be endearing and elegant but not enough to appear indecent. There was a cut out half sphere below your breasts and the bodice flared upward like streaks of sunshine at the crack of dawn. Even you had to admit that it was a stunning piece indeed. Like a stained glass window glowing with dawns kiss.
"This is the one," your fingers brushed around your hips with a faint smile, your hair was unbound and simple, a perfect compliment to the other-worldly dress you adorned, and your makeup was a picture of dewy perfection, shimmers along your cheekbones and forehead, arched brows, glossed lip. "Thank you," you had dismissed the flock of women as soon as they strapped your shoes to your feet, taking a moment for yourself before you slipped from the room.
The quietness of the hallway was enough to tell you that Eris would already be in the ballroom, no doubt sassily quipping the other High Lords and Ladies with cold eyes and a stiff spine. An act that would melt under your presence.
You weren't wrong.
As soon as you had entered the room, it was encapsulated by you. Feyre and Mor rushed to greet you, stroking your hair and running their hands down your skirts, begging for you to tell them where had gotten it. Cassian bundled you into a boisterous embrace which earnt him a curt jab from Nesta for the inappropriateness, Azriel kissed your knuckles as did Rhys, and Helion kissed your cheek in greeting, muttering to you how beautiful you looked in a hushed tone.
No reaction compared to that of Eris however as he remained glued to his seat with lips agape as his russet orbs scoured your figure, the mere action of his eyes on you making heat rise to your cheeks.
Tables lined the room with benches on either side, all packed with goblets of wine and mugs of ale, platters of food scattered at intricately measured intervals. Only Beron and Lady Autumn sat at the head of the hall, the latter of which examined you with approval.
Everyone had floated about you, stealing your attention from the one you desired to give it to. From Rhys asking you, jokingly, to revolt against Autumn and find sanctuary in Velaris, to Thesan pulling you to the side to inquire if you were being treated well. Helion had updated you on the policies you had so gracefully aided him in implementing, and you found a moment to catch up with Kallias and Viviane.
Then you made your way over to Eris who was wrapped up in a conversation with Lucien and Elain, whose gaze jolted from cold to warm in a split second when he saw your dress glistening in the corner of his eye, "Hello, Embers," his voice was as smooth as freshly cracked open whisky as he prodded you with the nickname he had given you, he thought you glowed, not brightly, but like embers on a dying fire, low and warm.
Eris was extremely proud to call you his wife, not only were you clearly beautiful, but you had a heart of molten gold, people sought you out for comfort and aid, you were graceful and poised, and could change the world with your bare hands if you wished it. It was what he needed, a chance of a real future with the woman he was falling in love with.
He couldn't blame you for your feelings toward him, you didn't exactly have a choice in the marriage but you had tried to make the most of it, and you had let him in and spent more time with him away from the duties required of you. Eris thought that you had finally started to feel a certain way toward him as well, from the faint shine in your eyes when you looked at him to the real laughter that sliced through the fogged atmosphere when he quipped something to you. You made him melt, you made him be who he always wanted to be.
"Hello," your voice was as soft as drizzled honey and your hair fell over your shoulders as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a necessary act to display your strength as a couple.
Eris felt your eyes trail down his chest and arms, the open collared cream shirt and chestnut brown jacket and pants; he had styled his hair the way you loved it, tamed but still with a playfulness to it, tousled slightly as if he had been stood on the balcony in the wind for a few moments. "Do you like it?" Eris motioned to his suit with that gleam in his eye that made your knees weak, it was certainly a good thing that he wasn't an empath like you, otherwise he'd know his effect on you and no doubt tease you for it.
Just because Eris couldn't feel your emotion doesn't mean that someone else couldn't read you like a book.
You're blushing, a voice infiltrated your mind and you did well to keep a stoic face against Rhys' shit-eating smirk he was no doubt wearing from his seat across the bench from your husband, with his arm loosely wrapped around Feyre's waist, sipping from his goblet with a teasing glint in his eye. Someone might say you might actually feel something for the man.
Ignoring the voice in your head, you spoke, "I love it, we're basically matching."
You'll definitely be matching when both of your clothes are on the floor tonight.
Go fuck yourself, Rhys.
I don't need to. Not when I have my lovely mate.
The walls in your mind flew up then, trapping his talons against the roof of your consciousness with such force that the High Lord visibly winced and rubbed his temple tenderly.
"You look angelic," Eris stood before you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against the back of your hand, dipping low and peering at you through his lashes, making no effort to mask the desire in his emotions.
"Thank you," it came out as a whisper and he placed your hand back to your side, sitting down again beside his brother, allowing you to glance along the table which housed not only Eris and Lucien, but also Elain, Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Helion, and your brother, meaning there was no space for you, "I suppose I'll go and sit with Kallias and Viviane," you picked up your skirts to turn away when Eris' hand shot out and secured around your wrist.
Eris' eyes glowed in the candlelight, you could see the flames flickering in his russet orbs that had you in a constant chokehold, "What if you-"
"If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," Azriel choked on his wine and coughed as Rhys and Cassian howled in laughter, even Eris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair at your words, standing to tower over you and cup your face in his hand.
"Perhaps later," he smirked and you visibly blushed at the words, even Eris couldn't miss it and he stroked a thumb over your rosed cheek.
In defence, you quipped, "Maybe I'll go back to my chambers then," the words flew from your mouth and you only realised how they sounded when Eris' focus darkened, the tension between you both was palpable to the point that even Azriel let out a whoosh of air he didn't realise he was holding in his lungs.
"So tempting," he took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and speaking a low, rough tone, "Don't leave me here alone, you know I don't do well without you."
"Fine," you strained and he grinned victoriously before ordering his brother and Elain to scooch down slightly to make room for you, and you slotted beside Eris like the final piece to his puzzle, thanking him for the goblet of wine you had taken from his offering fingers and looking upward at Rhys and Feyre who both sent you a knowing glance.
Knocking on the doors of your mind, you allowed Rhys to slip in, doing your best to stay distracted against Eris' hand on your hip that sent fire coursing through your veins and heat pooling between your thighs.
I've never known him to be like this, you know.
Like what?
Rhys' eyes flickered to Eris in examination before finding you again whilst Feyre kept the heir ignorant to the conversation between you and her mate.
Soft. Caring. He loves you, Y/N.
Well, it's a good thing I love him too then.
Rhys smirked, raising his goblet to you to which you clinked against your own, sipping the spiced wine and smiling with happiness at his words.
Eris sighed and turned to you, placing a kiss to your cheek, allowing his lips to graze against your cheekbones and his breath to fan down your neck. The rest of the room had moved on, wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the ale and music, leaving you and Eris alone and untouchable in your little bubble. His eyes scanned you, sketching every part of you onto the canvas within his mind, "Your presence has impacted me so deeply that I'm convinced that if we never met then something would feel missing," he rested his forehead against your own and his hand gripped your waist as his gaze bore into you, "Don't leave me alone, don't ever leave me," a breathless plea that stole your heart.
"I will never leave you, Eris. I will be here to watch all of your dreams come true, I promise."
Flames danced in his eyes and he became unbothered by who could be watching, "They already are," his finger stroked a line up the curve of your throat as he lifted your chin up, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours in something you could only call ethereal, so tender but passionate that you felt your heart burst with golden light in your chest.
Eris smirked against your lips, a knowing thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened, pulling away, you gasped as your hand ghosted over the fabric of your heart, "You knew?"
"From the moment we met at that meeting in Dawn," his nose brushed against yours, "You were too busy helping Thesan and keeping Tamlin under control to notice, but I saw you, and I knew I needed you."
"You never said anything."
"How could I?" Eris pressed a kiss to your nose, "You had to fall for me on your own, I couldn't influence that."
You inhaled his scent, of crackling firewood and spiced oranges and sighed, you curled your fingers around the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, more forcefully, and luckily for you both, the room hadn't noticed your infatuation due to Cassian's well played distraction to give you both a moment, one that you needed.
"I need to get you out of here before I take you on this table," his voice possessively growled and it made you shudder in intense delight.
Rhys watched from across the way as Eris took your hand in his own and pulled you from the room, smiling at the large grin on your face and the faint giggles passing through your lips as he saw the silhouette of Eris flinging you over his shoulder cascaded in shadow onto the white stone floor.
If anyone deserved true happiness, a life of wonder and love, it was you, and it was something Rhys believed Eris was now fully capable of providing for you.
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Author's Note
Back from Paris in love with the idea of love so expect lots of fluff coming your way x
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b00kdiary · 2 days
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Nesta: Azriel kissed you?
Gwyn: [hiding behind her hands] Yes.
Nesta: And you said… thank you?
Gwyn: I was nervous! He’s a really good kisser…
Nesta: [trying not to laugh] Well that was very polite of you.
Gwyn: [blushing like a tomato] Shut. Up.
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bettdraws · 2 days
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My random character attribute headcanons
Azriel: downturned eye tilt with long lashes that give him sad boy bedroom eyes
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Nesta: has a gap between her front teeth (makes her so hot honestly)
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Lucien: Has dimples and long canines, his upper lip is also thicker even when he smiles. This is simply canon in my head.
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Elain: Hip dips HIP DIPS
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Gwyn: She has a raspy voice that just HITS when she sings
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sydneymack · 3 days
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The Lament for Icarus
Cass, Azriel and Nesta - A Court of Thorns and Roses
Artist: @madelonvhal
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glossamerfaerie · 10 hours
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I have this headcanon that Nesta’s pegasus** DOES NOT like Cassian. Her pegasus is definitely a black stallion and super aggressive with Fae men, but absolutely adores Nesta and her friends. He’ll allow mane braiding, petting, spoiling with apples and sugar cubes, etc. He’s an absolute sweetheart with the Valkyries, Priestesses, Nyx, and the Archeron sisters.
But Cassian? No, sir. The Pegasus will not let Cassian *breathe* safely. Lots of growling and snorting whenever Cassian is within ten feet. He WILL bite if Cassian attempts to stroke his mane. Even the delicious sugar cubes won’t help Cassian; the Pegasus simply glowers disdainfully and ignores until someone else offers the treat. Cassian is very sad about this.
Nesta does not improve matters by being EXTRA affectionate toward her Pegasus whenever Cassian is around. Or by going on long flights without Cassian whenever Nesta wants alone time. Or by saying things like “you’re my favorite black-haired winged-creature to ride.” This last one is Cassian’s breaking point; he storms out of training while Gwyn, Azriel, and Emerie collapse with laughter. Cassian is especially bitter that the Pegasus has warmed up to Azriel, so he can’t even pretend that the Pegasus has a problem with Illyrians. To rub salt in the wound, Gwyn’s Pegasus *loves* Az (shadow-petting is extremely useful when Gwyn is busy).
Things do change eventually. There’s some battle or conflict (idk just imagine something bloody). And of course Cassian, the overprotective brute, sees a sneak attack from behind and lunges to protect his mate mid-air. The attacker plummets and dies in a very painful manner.
After watching Cassian’s actions, the Pegasus decides that perhaps Cassian deserves Some Rights after all. He still won’t allow prolonged petting or Cassian to sit on him (in his defense, do you want a large Illyrian brute to sit on you? Don’t answer that). But the Pegasus will allow occasional pets and sugary tweets.
Nesta has been publicly amused by this saga for a while but also secretly worried that her two males can’t get along. So the new peace is a big relief to her. She also doesn’t *want* to always fly without company. Alone time is nice, but do you know what’s nicer? Racing with Cassian to see who can reach their destination faster. Nesta loves flying with her two favorite males.
(However, Nesta still maintains that Cassian is her *second* favorite black-haired winged-creature to ride. The man’s ego is dangerous if left unchecked)
______
** The Pegasus colors are inspired by this amazing artwork that lives rent-free in my brain. I’m sure that Nesta is black, Gwyn is white, and Emerie is brown/gold. Not sure about the genders of the other Pegasus — I think Gwyn has a mare but I’m unsure about Emerie.
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Many people have a headcanon that the stranger who appeared at the Archerons’ door asking Papa Archeron to invest was Lucien, so I decided to write the scene! This is the first coherent thing I’ve written in ages so don’t judge me too hard😭 Also I have no idea what currency is used in acotarland so I’m using pounds because it’s based on Britain.
Lucien had not even seen a human house yet and he already felt like an outsider. He was no stranger to the feeling; it was how he’d felt when he’d first shown up in Spring, covered in his brothers’ blood, steam curling off his body from the fire in his veins, his ember smell and red hair both clear signs that he didn’t belong. However, at least, while his magic had felt weaker outside of his home territory, it had still felt potent. Even with Amarantha’s stupid curse. But here… By the Cauldron, this place was so dreary. So ordinary. If this was where Feyre had grown up, no wonder she was such an ignorant mortal fool. Her human life was so mundane compared to his. Lucien couldn’t imagine living here his whole life like this. 
Tamlin had offered to send an entire entourage to protect him, but Lucien had insisted that just a horse would do. He needed to look wealthy, not like a prince. He wasn’t going to be slain by two girls and their absentee father. Andras had only been killed because he had willed it. Lucien shut down that thought, not wanting to think about the pain he’d felt when Andras had died. His closest friend in Spring, most likely. Tamlin was his friend too, but he was also his High Lord; the relationship was inherently unequal, unlike with Andras.
At last, Lucien exited the forest. The clearing was even more boring than the trees. The ground was a yellowish-green reminiscent of dying grass, and every step was a loud crunch under the horse’s hooves. Pahhh. No wonder Feyre was half-dead when she’d first arrived. Then Lucien felt guilty for thinking that way. It wasn’t her fault the humans were left like this. Prythian before Amarantha had ample resources to help out the humans, but they hadn’t. They’d freed them from slavery to the Fae, only to make them slaves to their basest instincts. 
They were even worse off than the lesser faeries. Lucien’s eyes stung as he remembered Jesminda’s dream of an equal Prythian, the dream Tamlin was working hard towards. She would’ve loved Tamlin and the Spring Court. 
Calm down Lucien, he chastised himself as he urged the horse onward. Holy shit, Tamlin hadn’t exaggerated; these homes and buildings were tiny. He moved through bustling streets with little humans pushing carts full of wares of some kind. Several stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Excellent; he set himself apart plenty simply being astride this mare. 
As Tamlin had said, the Archeron home wasn’t hard to find. Mostly because of the lingering faerie scents that he followed all the way to their house. He didn’t remember human etiquette as it had been ages since he’d met one, but it couldn’t be that different from Faerie etiquette, right? Right?? Cauldron boil him, he should’ve done more research, but he didn’t think it would be that big a deal. Tamlin’s glamour magic that he’d cast as he kidnapped Feyre should hold, plus Lucien’s own glamour magic. 
He didn’t have anything to tie his horse to, so he gently descended the horse and led her near the side of the house, praying that she wouldn’t run. Then he knocked on the door, internally cussing at this infernal hat he was wearing. Some gentlemanly human fashion that he despised.
The door opened a minute later. Lucien looked down at a small woman who looked a lot like Feyre- only, her features were sharper, stronger. Her dirty blonde hair was up in a braided crown, her angled brows were arched as her silvery-blue eyes assessed him with a courtier’s precision. Lucien instantly recognized this one as Nesta- the older sister. Cold, cunning, and more beautiful than Lucien had expected. He gave her a practiced courtier’s smile as he bowed to her. “Hello, Lady. I was wondering if your father was home?” Nesta stared at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “What could you possibly want with him?” Another feminine voice in the background gasped, but Lucien maintained his smile, only replying, “He is a merchant, is he not, Lady? I have a proposition for him.”
“Our father hasn’t been a merchant in many years,” Nesta said coldly. Oh, she was a viper, alright. She’d fit right in at the Autumn Court. Unfortunately for her, Lucien had far too much experience with people worse than her. “Perhaps what I suggest will convince him to get back into it.”
Nesta looked him up and down again. Somehow, Lucien got the feeling that she could see through the glamour. Impressive. Lucien’s smile morphed into a smirk as Nesta continued to stare her displeasure. “See something you like, my lady?” Nesta’s eyes instantly snapped back to his. “How dare- oh just come in; let’s get this over with quickly.” 
Lucien bowed again, and unable to help himself, he sent a wink and grin Nesta’s way before he turned towards the man sitting on the chair. Lucien repressed his wince of sympathy at the ruined leg. That must have hurt a lot when he got it. He didn’t know the story, but it made Lucien’s face twinge in memory of his own eye getting carved out. “Does that hurt?” Lucien asked the man, nodding at the leg. The man blinked, as though surprised to be addressed. “Often,” he admitted. “Particularly when I try to stand up.” Unable to help himself, Lucien blurted, “I could give you supplies to help you with that, you know, Lord.”
The man cringed. “Please just call me Tristan. And I couldn’t possibly accept-“
“Please, Tristan. I insist. It’s just in my satchel here. Give me one moment.” He bowed to him and turned around, the scent of jasmine wafting into his nose. That’s when he saw her.
The younger sister: Elain. She had the same burnished gold hair of her sisters, but her eyes were wholly different; she had lovely doe eyes that you could drown in. She had a slight blush on her face, and she had an inviting smile on her face as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Won’t you tell us your name, my lord?” Lucien had fully intended on giving them an alias, but he fumbled on his words, instead saying, “I-my name is Lucien.”
“Lucien.” His name on her tongue-
“Pretty name for a pretty lord,” Elain teased, and Lucien felt his face heat up. His shirt sleeve sparked with fire, and Lucien hastily patted it down. Why was he so nervous? Elain wasn’t the first beautiful woman he had ever seen. “Why, um, thank you, Lady Elain.”
“How do you know her name?” Nesta cut in, and Lucien sighed. She was even worse than Feyre. He turned to her, letting that practiced smile return. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about the family of the man who I’m trusting with my money, did you?” Lucien tried not to laugh at the expression on Nesta’s face as he sauntered out of the cabin to get the faerie pain killer and tonic. He made a mental note to get new ones once he went back home. This man needed it more than him, and he could just get more when he went home.
 Thankfully, his horse was obediently standing near the side of the house, and Lucien rustled through his satchel, getting the two bottles he always kept on him. Then he strolled back towards the front door, knocking politely again. This time, the door was opened by Elain, who gave him that adorable smile again. “Lord Lucien.” Lucien gave her a real grin, replying, “Lady Elain.” “Please don’t worry about my sister. She can be a little…overprotective, but she means well, I promise.” Lucien lifted a hand to place on Elain’s shoulder assuredly before he remembered that humans were really weird about physical contact. 
“Rest assured, I understand your sister’s misgivings. I’m a strange man entering your home, and I know of the struggles ladies must go through in this world. I do not resent her for her attitude.” Elain beamed. “Does that mean you’ll visit us again?” While Lucien had been careful to avoid physical contact, it seemed Elain had no such qualms; she grabbed his forearm with her small, surprisingly strong hands. Lucien stiffened slightly in surprise. He was going to say no when he caught a glimpse of her expression and scented her mood. Her excitement was so contagious. “You seem a worldly man. Have you traveled much?” Lucien blinked. “Yes, I have.” He opened his mouth to say more, but his mind was blank. Cauldron boil him-
“Excellent! Then it’s settled then; you’re coming back so you can tell me all about your travels,” Elain said firmly. Lucien blushed again. Think of something intelligent to say! “As you say, my lady,” Lucien finally managed. Then the two of them walked back to her father, Elain’s hand still on his arm. Lucien felt Nesta’s glaring at it, but he didn’t care; he was glowing at her hand on him, and he was too giddy to wonder why. “Here it is, Tristan. When you feel pain, take two sips of this red liquid and your pain shall go away. Rub this purple liquid into your leg every day to help relieve the bones in that area. I shall leave them on this table.” Lucien placed them on the wooden table where he noticed Tamlin’s claw marks punched into the table. By the Cauldron, Tam. You went all the way with the theatrics, didn’t you?
“Now, for my request: I know of your reputation, so I am asking you to invest some of my money for me.”
Tristan inquired, “And how much do you wish me to invest, Lord Lucien?” “Twenty thousand pounds.” Elain gasped and Nesta moved to cover her younger sister’s mouth. Tristan stared at him in disbelief. “Twenty thousand? Really?” 
“Of course. Will that be a problem?”
“Well…it’s just so much money…”
Lucien resisted the urge to snarl at him. His patience was waning. “No, it’s nothing to me. Just a small sum to see what you can do. I’ll think of investing more if I am interested.” Tristan stared at him some more. “That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Elain exclaimed, walking forward as her sister tried to shush her again. “My father would be delighted to accept your investment, my lord.” Lucien sighed slightly in relief as Elain met his eyes. “Thank you,” he mouthed at her. She merely winked at him, and Lucien blushed again. Something was wrong with him; must be the human weather. 
“Erm, yes, of course I would,” Tristan said with slight confusion. “Father-“ Nesta began, but Lucien spoke over her. “Splendid! I could not be more grateful.” Lucien reached his hand into midair, searching for that small bag of gold Tamlin had given him and stored in the ether. At last, he found it, handing it to Tristan. “Here’s another token of my gratitude.” Tristan blinked, as if he could not possibly believe his luck, and Lucien handed him another back, this one with the twenty thousand pounds. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Tristan, and meeting your wonderful daughters.” He bowed to each of them in turn before exiting the room. 
“Wait!” Elain cried, just as Lucien mounted his horse. Lucien turned to Feyre’s sister. He tried not to get distracted by her big brown eyes as she said breathlessly, “You will come back, won’t you, my lord?” He hadn’t planned on it, no. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that to her. “I swear it, my lady Elain.” She grinned then, her fully smile so brilliant it took Lucien’s breath away. “Until then, my Lord Lucien.” 
That expression remained imprinted on Lucien’s mind all the way back to the Spring Court.
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thesistersarcheron · 2 days
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Pairings: Cassian/Nesta/Azriel Rating: E Words: ~5k Summary: It is well known across Prythian that High Fae mating bonds are a sacred union between two souls. Lesser fae mating bonds, more common yet less studied than their High Fae counterparts, are bound by an entirely different set of rules. After the ball in the Hewn City, Nesta and Cassian swore to each other that there would be no one else. Ever. They didn’t account for Azriel.
Read this story on AO3 here or check out a preview of Chapter XV below the cut.
By the time Azriel played Nesta through a slow, simple warm-up, his hands ached, the stiff joints and tendons stretched past the point of comfort.
Too long. It had been too long since he last played.
But Nesta was calm. Her expression was soft for once, her power a steady flicker in the palm of her upturned hand, and he was loath to interrupt her. 
To interrupt this opportunity to marvel at her.
Because she was magnificent. 
As he marveled, Azriel’s breath clouded, his shadows stilling. The grave pall of Death had fallen over the study the moment Nesta’s silver fire sparked to life, primal and perilous. It crept closer with every measure, inch by inch, as if that flame were a beacon shining through the Veil. As if Nesta could summon that ageless, ancient force with it—Death itself no more than a loyal footsoldier eager to please His commander. 
A warning chill skittered down Azriel’s spine, rustling his wings and raising the short hairs at the nape of his neck. It numbed his aching fingers, relief and warning all at once.
He didn’t need to test the theory lurking in the back of his mind to know that one wrong note would be his death knell. 
But Nesta was calm, so he played on, selecting each key with the precision he saved for drawing back a bowstring and lining up a shot.
Unholy inner light flared behind her clenched-shut eyelids. It silvered the planes of her face, glimmering whenever she teetered on the edge of losing control—when her brow wrinkled in frustration or her lashes kissed her cheeks as she concentrated harder. Just a small, cold bit of light, but it skimmed her elegant features and danced in time with his shadows to the notes he played.
He watched that light. Watched her. Watched the cold flame grow in her palm and felt a phantom breeze stir the stale air, seeping into the marrow of his bones and the blackened foundations of his soul. 
The sight of those flames licking at her fingers awoke an instinctual fear in him, the sort he had long since mastered beside campfires and the pyres that marked the bitter end of battle. But here, with her…
Azriel counted his breaths and murmured soft reminders to himself. To Nesta. 
Gentle. 
Breathe. 
Listen.  
The flame crackled, and he walked his hands down the keys to the notes that seemed to resonate most with it, playing them again and again until he and Nesta both found their balance. Until the wildfire of her power was little more than an ember, a shifting bead of mercury held in her palm.
All that lethal, breathtaking power.
Her free hand dug into his thigh, anchoring her to this plane. 
His Nesta.
His mate.
His miracle.
——— Read the rest of Chapter XV on AO3.
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groundedflying · 2 days
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I just finished ACOSF and reading about Gwyn and Emerie’s pasts was so tough! Those girls really deserved that win. And Nesta really popped her pus at that ending! We are a Nesta stan in this house!
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What did you gain, Nesta? “The life of my sister and her child”
And what did it cost you? “Literally nothing the narrative has made it clear I am just as powerful if not moreso somehow? Idk just rolling with it!”
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velidewrites · 14 hours
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“When you get tired of the animal, come find me. I’ll show you how a future High Lord plays.”
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kopfkino-o · 2 days
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Nesta ending up pregnant in the next ACOTAR book would be my 13th reason. especially after the absolute shitshow that was Feyre’s pregnancy plotline? No thanks, Sarah girlie, no thanks.
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karinagiada · 2 days
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Lady Death ✨
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kataraavatara · 3 days
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uh anyways would anyone be interested in reading a fic where mor makes good on her threat to dump Nesta in the court of nightmares and we address the systemic inequality there + the ic’s mistreatment of nesta or are we good. just curious.
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