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divinemare · 2 years

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⊹₊ ⋆ 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 ⋆₊ ⊹

┊⁀➷ nyx x oc

┊ part one

-`,✎ she’s that winter icy danger, he’s that night mischievous mystery, they push each other apart, but they can’t help but to drift back together.

part two

☁︎·̩͙✧

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and sighed. It wasn’t that she wasn’t excited to see her friends, more like she wasn’t excited for the incoming trouble. She had already too much of it on her shoulders at the moment. The door of her chambers opened before she could stand up from the dresser, and once she gave the voice permission, her twin brother entered her rooms with a devilish smile. An almost identical male version of her, all but her peculiar eyes, Blaze was toned and had a bit more sharper features, but no one could ever deny the familiarity in them, the fact that they were crafted from the same ice block.

“Ready?” Her brother asked, his smile still placed wittily on his face, but a hint of inpatients lurked in his tone.

“Relax, brother, your boyfriend will be there at any time we may arrive,” she joked, looking at him through her mirror while lifting a brush and slowly brushing her hair. She had already done that, but she intended to toy a little bit with her brother.

Blaze rolled his blue cold eyes but laughed anyways. “Try not to destroy that beautiful city, will you, sister dear?”

She put her brush down and turned around, standing up her dresser and walking towards him with a slightly annoyed grin on her lips. “Tell that to your idiotic friend.”

The male laughed again, shaking his head and offering his arm for his sister to link hers. And together, they exited her chambers towards the outsides of the Throne Room, where their parents were surely awaiting.

Demetria, second daughter of the Winter Court just for a few seconds, was the vivid image of ice crafted to life. Beautiful, regal, mysterious. But deadly, powerful, dangerous. No one could see it on the outside, all that hided by beautiful white hair, pale yet flushed skin, and those gorgeous, mysterious eyes. One, colored like ice, a gray almost white extravagant color, while the other one was deeper, cold blue, more like her mother’s and brother’s eyes.

Her parents were indeed waiting for them, they shot a slight warning look at their daughter —to which she responded with an innocent smile— before returning to their conversation with the few members of the court council they had been talking to, surely setting up the last matters before the family took off to the Night Court.

The Winter and Night Courts had become over the years really close allies. With their previous ties during that mighty war not so long ago being magnified with the friendships made along the way, both courts had come to an alliance bonded not only by political matters, but by strong friendship bonds.

Her own twin brother had been part of that new found relationship.

They both had grown up alongside the Heir of the Night Court, attending to courts meetings, receiving the big Night family in their own court in almost every Winter Solstice, and visiting the Court of Dreams city wether it was for the beautiful festivity of Starfall, or because of their mothers friendship ties with both the High Lady and the cousin of the High Lord. Also to point out that, they were the two only courts of Prythian who had a High Lady, and this two females got along particularly well. But, over all those years of encounters and invitations and interactions, only one of the Winter twins had come to find friendship with the Night Heir.

Demetria loved her brother with her hole heart, but she hated her brother’s best friend. The reckless, stupid, oh-so-charming Night Prince had been an awful pain in her ass since they were kids. And luckily, Nyx didn’t felt any different towards her, either. Many times it had took their parents magic to stop them from their fighting. The Winter Princess was always very patient and composed, regal, much alike her mother, always, but those times she was around the Night Prince, he somehow managed to make her madder than anyone else in the world and achieve very often to put her on edge. Over the years, Velaris had entered in killing winters much more times than nature alone gave.

She loved the City of Starlight, she loved being around her mothers witty, beautiful and cheerful best friend, her godmother, Morrigan, had been her role model for many many years. She also had the most fun with the so called Lord of Bloodshed. Cassian had taken the girl under his wing, training her and with her, teaching her the art of being a war general, amusing in every display of tiny, yet mighty power she showed to put his nephew in place. But she often found herself alone, her twin brother didn’t so much as spare her a glance once their feet touched Velaris’ ground, and then, all hell bursted once both Heirs were together. If not alone in the library trying to avoid that cold and dark torments of trouble, she was saving those torments of trouble from their most stupid, dangerous, and reckless plans. Which, much for her often discomfort, came to be very often.

But when Asterin was born, and once she was old enough to accompany Demetria in her endless evenings in the library below the house with the only purpose of avoiding her stupid brother and his more stupid friend and all the trouble they usually brought upon her, she had found her own friendship in the Night Court. How Asterin was so different from her brother, would always be a mystery of its own.

Then, Kardam had also arrived. Demetria had always been curious of the boy; he was always quite, mysterious in a way that only the son of the spymaster of the Night Court could be, yet his eyes shimmered with mischief. That, she could only guess he had inherited from his mother, the way he could look so calm yet mischievous. It had took them one single conversation to instantly connect, and from then on, both Asterin and Kardam were that what made her most excited to visit Velaris, and managed to take away part of that annoyance, even sometimes ignore, the ass of a prince that had been a nightmare for so many years.

“Ready to go?” Once all the political things were in order, both regents approached the twins with a little smile. Kallias gave his daughter a kiss on the head and hold her shoulder, ready to winnow his family to the City of Starlight.

“May Hell comeback to earth,” Blaze said with a mischievous smirk, winking at his annoyed sister.

“And swallow you and your boyfriend whole,” grunted the female.

Their mother, Viviane, sighed and pressed her fingers on her temples, while her mate seemed all too amused. “And may the Mother hear my prayers,” she muttered to herself.

“Oh, darling, when has the Mother heard our prayers?” Kallias’ laugh was charming and mischievous, and while Viviane stared at her mate with reproaching eyes, she knew now where did her son took that mischief from.

✧₊˚.

Nyx was descending the stairs of the River Estate, approaching the entrance of his house. He hold his hands behind his back and walked with the grace he had grow up seeing his father do so, his face was a mask of feelings, showing nothing more than calmness, as if inside he wasn’t excited to see his friend again. For a reason he yet didn’t knew, the High Family of the Winter Court hadn’t visited as often as they usually did, not even the twins on their own. The message from Blaze had just said the Court was busy and many things were happening at ones. When he asked his parents if there was a political issue occurring in the seasonal courts, they had denied his assumptions, leaving him even more curious about the matter.

He loved his family with every fiber of he, his sister, his cousins, his uncles and aunts and father and mother, but he had been the oldest of the new blood pack, he had grown up with the Winter heir. Blaze understood better than anyone the urge to be messy, mischievous, do reckless things, pranks and sometimes dangerous stuff. He sometimes dreaded the fact that there was no possible way in which they could live a life like his father and uncles. They were both heirs to their thrones, their courts futures laid on them. But that just made every time together better, more dangerous and exciting. The worst ideas kept coming, every time getting better and better. He had no doubt that in those 2 weeks the twins were staying in Velaris before the Winter Solstice, they would make heaven shake and hell bent.

“Kar, come on! She’s coming!” His sister woke him up of his many many planning of trouble, racing down the stairs and almost making him fall over for it.

And like that, his little sister managed to turn his high spirit into an annoyed frown. He forgot for a second that his best friend came in package with his annoying, know-it-all twin sister.

Honestly, Demetria claimed he was a pain in the ass, when the truth was backwards! The oh-so-precious Ice Princess had made sure to make his life imposible every time she visited his home, ruining his most fun plans and adventures and putting him in big not-the-kind-of-fun trouble. She was a rules follower who thought herself to be the most intelligent female in the world, she was always right, everyone else was always wrong. It made him so mad every time she ruined his plans, that instead he turned his efforts into annoying her until he was either turned into a block of ice, or Velaris was swept with a hard, furious winter blow. Once, he had made her so mad that a snow storm had suddenly fell over the city, it had took both their mothers power to stop it, and at the end it resulted in Nyx being severely grounded by the High Lady of the Night Court, but it all had been worth it, he could bare being grounded for centuries if that was the prize for seeing those cold eyes turned into flames.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing far away every thought of the white haired female, and instead looked over his little sister with a frown. How had his sister an cousin find that female a good company —and worst, a friend—, would always be a mystery to him.

“They’re not arriving in another 10 minutes, Rin, could you please not shout so loud?”

The female looked over to him and rolled her gray purple eyes at him. “Brother, please don’t start being an ass to Dem, could you? As a birthday gift?”

“That’s blackmail,” he tried and failed not to smile.

“And is it working?”

“A little” Asterin smiled wildly and pushed on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He loved his sister with his entire soul, and there was nothing that he wouldn’t do for her, even tolerate her annoying best friend a little longer.

Once they were at the door, both their parents turned to look at the siblings, all eyes quickly shot to him.

“Nyx, darling, behave” his mother’s tone was calm and sweet, but an evident warning lingered in its depths.

“Don’t worry, mom, I will” he smiled at his mother and press a little kiss to her cheek, making the female smile —tho he was certain, for the way she looked at his father, that she wasn’t even a little convinced that his well-behave could be possible.

✧₊˚.

Kallias’ winnowing took them near the entrance of the River Estate. Even at the distance they were from, she could already place the silhouettes of the four members of the High Family of the Night Court. She took a deep breath, her heart sparked with happiness when she saw her dear friend standing between her mother and her annoying brother, smiling wildly when she spot Demetria too.

“Try not to get into to much trouble, will you?” She looked at her own brother, arching a brow in tiredness but also warning.

“I’m offended, sister dear, who do you think I am?” Blaze, as expected, didn’t took any of her warnings remotely serious.

“A fool, with an even more foolish friend,” the frown of her face just made the male laugh, and she didn’t missed a beat to punch her brother in his ribs and shutting that laugh down.

Her mother gave the twins a warning glance and they both stood up straight again. Both families greet each other friendly, the four ladies jumped at each others arms and greeted their friends with big smiles. Asterin was talking so fast, that she could barley register anything the female was saying, but nonetheless, Demetria stared at her dear friend with a smile.

Then, both mothers cleared their throats, and the smiles and laughs stoped instantly. Demetria turned her head to her mother, while Nyx, who had been talking with her brother, stared at his own mother. Neither of them were particularly happy with the matter at hand, but they turned slowly —too slowly— to face each other, just in a tiny little second, the flames in both of their eyes were so bright that if it was possibly, they would have burned each other right there. But instead, Nyx was the first to cool down that fire and place a fake, idiotic smile in his all most idiotic face.

“Demetria.” The male inclined his head in a little “respectful” bow.

She knew very damn well, by that smirk in him that made that fire inside her become almost non-stoppable, that he had every intention in pissing her off and getting her in trouble, but she would be better off dead that granting that idiot any kind of pleasure. So, imitating his smile, with a little hint of sweetness that, in reality, and only visible and readable by his eyes, promised nothing more than icy pain.

“Nyx.”

She could have almost swear she heard the High Lady of the Night Court sigh in relief, but quickly, before she could turn again to her parents, and take a look to the amused expression in Blaze’s face, an arm linked to hers and pulled her inside the Estate, she was forever grateful with Asterin for braking the terrible tension and drag her away of the night heir.

The female started talking about some of the things that had happen in the time they hadn’t seen each other, and promised that Kardam would be inside waiting for them, eager to see her again too. But even if she tried her best to pay all attention on her friend, she couldn’t help but drift her thoughts to the piercing gaze she felt going through her very skin behind. She knew who that was, and she slowly, discreetly, turned her head over her shoulder to catch the Night Prince staring shamelessly at her. When their eyes locked, the male smirked again, arrogant, charming —asshole—, and then, making her heart race with anger and annoyance, he winked.

That wink promised nothing more than trouble in the incoming weeks. Hell was gonna be raised, and neither of them was going to back up in throwing daggers after daggers until one of them surrendered.

They both should know better by now.

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 3 years

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ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

!!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well.

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot.

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title.

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great.

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court.

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next.

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know.

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick.

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it. They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not.

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment.

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER?

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better. I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic.

#acosf #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames #rhysand #feysand

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foxybananaaaz · 3 years

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I’ve commented on a few posts now expressing how Lucien is an incredibly important character, but I don’t think I’ve done a post specifically about why.

I want to explain it all in full, without feeling like I’m being a nuisance in clogging up comments of posts because of the stupid character limits in replies.

So consider this post it.

I’m going to put all my thoughts on this in one large post, so I(and others if they want too) can reference back here.

Any thoughts and additions to this post is not only welcomed, but encouraged.

So I’m going to start. (I’m putting it under a read more as I plan on writing a lot for this, so yeah)

Still here? Awesome! Thanks!! Let’s just jump right in.

So I’m going to start off by expressing how I genuinely don’t know why people can’t or won’t understand that Lucien is the very character you do not want to piss off? He is basically holding all of the cards without realizing it. Not that he would intentionally start a fight.

There is a war brewing amongst the Courts of Prythian. This is heavily hinted at, especially throughout Silver Flames. Ever since Eris mentioned wanting to kill Beron and his reasons why, we have known there is war on the horizon.

While we believe that Beron will be the cause of this war, what starts it, as he marches on Spring, and human lands as well, for more territory for Autumn, I believe this to be a total red herring.* I believe this because I completely think that this war will be started because of Lucien.

No I don’t believe Lucien will actively start this war, but I believe he will be the cause of it. And I think it will come from the Blood Duel so heavily hinted at during Azriels bonus chapter for Silver Flames. But before I explain why, I’m going to explain just how this could happen to begin with.

Lucien Vanserra is a character, that is the political key to having a positive link with four out of seven courts, as well as the human lands. Lucien Vanserra alone has deep personal ties with these territories, where as everyone else is unable to attain themselves.

(1) Starting with where he was born, Luciens connection to the Autumn Court is easy to understand. He was born a son of Autumn. He was raised as Berons son. His mother is the lady of the court, and the only one of his brothers who carries any kind of good will towards him is set to become High Lord when Beron dies. Lucien, though he despises the Autumn Court is very, personally, deeply linked with it.

(2) Then Lucien moved to the Spring Court after Jesmindas death. He fled here, seeking refuge, and he received the refuge he sought. Tamlin could have given Lucien a place to live and left it at that. He didn’t have to become friends, or even take Lucien as his emissary. But he did. And in his time in the Spring Court, Lucien and Tamlin became really close friends. They became best friends. He spent hundreds of years as Tamlins best friend. They may not be as close anymore, but that does not erase the deep, personal ties to the Spring Court he has.

(3) Then after leaving the Spring Court, he went to the Night Court. His friend Feyre lives there, as does his mate Elain. While there isn’t a centuries long personal tie with the Night Court, the fact that Elain willingly chooses to live there keeps Lucien tied to it, for the simple fact that Elain is his mate. Rhys knows this(and I’ll touch on that in length in a little bit).

(4) After he can feel he isn’t overly welcome in the Night Court, how he makes Elain feel uncomfortable at the moment, he leaves. At this point, Elain is the ONLY thing keeping him there, as his once close friendship with Feyre is now extremely rocky, near nonexistent. So he leaves to the Human Lands, so Elain is comfortable. In these human lands, he forms close friendships with key humans, Jurian and Vassa. Jurian leading armies, and Vassa one of the Mortal Queens. Lucien is close friends with them, lives with them. Lucien isn’t just “staying with these humans” because he is actively living with them.

(5) This leaves his personal connection to the one place Lucien is completely unaware of, and quite possibly the one place and person that would be the hardest loss for Rhys, should things go horribly. Lucien is completely unaware of a deep personal link with the Day Court, as Lucien genuinely does not know that Helion is his father. Helion is unaware of this connection as well.

This is five major territories that Lucien alone holds very deep and personal connections with. Having Lucien allied to you means you have found political gold. Rhys knows this. Rhys is aware how politically important Lucien is, and he is shown to do what he can to hold onto Lucien as long as he can. He showed that he is actively trying to hold onto Lucien during Azriels bonus chapter.

Rhys catches Azriel and Elain almost kissing on the night of Solstices. He catches them kissing when Elain still has the mating bond with Lucien open, and fate undecided, also while Lucien is currently under the very same roof. While Rhys personally could have gone about stopping the kiss in a better way, we are very lucky it was Rhys who saw it and not Lucien.

I have seen people comment on how Lucien being biologically Helions son, means he has no right to enact a blood duel. This could not be further from the truth.

Yes it is true that Lucien is Helions biological son, this truth does not erase the fact that Lucien was raised in Autumn Court, as Berons son, with Autumn Traditions. The entirety of Prythian, with the exception of Lady Vanserra, Rhys and Feyre, believe Lucien to be a true son of Beron and Autumn, and would expect nothing out of sorts if Lucien enacts a blood duel for his mate. He has every right to call on that duel.

But just because Lucien himself has every right to enact a Blood Duel for Elain, does not mean he will. Everything in his character so far, says he would very much not do this. Despite how it has to hurt him, he has done everything he is capable of to make Elain as comfortable as possible. He moved out of not only Velaris, but the entire Night Court. He only shows up due to business and holidays. The only time we have seen him actively try to engage with Elain during his visits, is when he gives Elain her solstice gifts. He even mentions to Cassian that he doesn’t only come to the Night Court for his mate. Lucien is 100% giving Elain all the space she needs. He would not enact a blood duel, if Elain and Azriel end up together. He’s shown to fight against the mating instincts before with Greyson, so they, while fierce, wouldn’t make him fight.

When Rhys brings up the topic of the Blood Duel to Azriel, it is with hopes to steer Azriel away from Elain, but Azriel admits that he is not only aware of this possibility, but believes he would win it. A duel to the death, Azriel shows readiness, willingness, and confidence that he will fight in it, and win.

I personally don’t think Azriel would win. Yes, he has been training in the art of battle his whole life, he is not more powerful than Lucien though. Lucien is believed to be Berons true son, because the fire power from his mother is so strong, it showed up and is very active within Lucien. He also has the pure power that only comes with being the direct Heir of a High Lord. Lucien is extremely powerful. So even if he does not enact this Blood Duel, he would not lose just because Azriel is skilled in the art of battle.

I 100% believe it will be Azriel who initiates this fight, which is why I believe that we are lucky it was Rhys that stopped the kiss. I believe Azriel would start the Blood Duel, which would then be the breaking point, having Lucien explode in such a large display of light, revealing his power to its true extent, and revealing his true parentage to the world.

Remember when I mentioned above, that the Day Court and Helions connection to Lucien, could quite possibly be the most catastrophic to Rhys? Let me explain that.

So if Azriel enacts this duel, he starts it, causing the truth to be revealed. Helion and by extension Day Court has been Rhys’ longest and closest ally amongst the Courts. But if it comes out that Lucien is his son, while he is in an active Blood Duel, with an Illyrian Warrior, who also so happens to be Rhysands brother? Helions going to have opinions. He is going to be angry.

This could cause a catastrophic fall out between Night and Day, because if it is revealed that Rhys not only knew the truth about Lucien and Helion, but didn’t do more to keep Lucien safe, that will very much not go well for Rhys. All ties and alliance between Night and Day would crumble.

Rhys’s already unstable and rocky relations with the Autumn and Spring Courts would also fall apart. Tamlin, having been waiting for an excuse to fight against Rhys, stepping in because his former best friend actively in danger, would join in any fight against Rhys. Beron who had been itching for a war regardless, would step in, not for Luciens benefit, but under the guise of such. “He isn’t my son but I still raised him as my son, and you deliberately put him in harms way.” In sense. Vassa being a Mortal Queen, and Jurian leading the Mortal Armies, would step in if needed.

We have four territories now suddenly turning against the Night Court and by extension Rhys and Feyre. A war has been brewing, and this very Blood Duel could be the very single cause of this war.

Remember, Lucien is political gold. Even within the Night Court. Nesta, the current most powerful Fae living on this planet, the sole person able to control the three Dread Trove items, could very well turn against Rhys, siding with Lucien, as she believes Azriel and Rhys didn’t stop this Blood Duel from starting knowing it could severely impact Elain. (HIGHLIGHTING THIS PARAGRAPH BECAUSE THE ELR*IELS STOLE THIS SOLE PARAGRAPH AND THOUGHT THEY DID SOMETHING AGAINST ME)

People who ship Elain and Azriel, rather, the toxic people who ship them sorry, and want Elain and Azriel to have this forbidden romance, implies they rather Elain leave Lucien and the Mating Bond in limbo, forget him, let him suffer, unable to find someone else. These people who so want a “forbidden love” show how they truly do not understand the absolute chaos and how cataclysmic this “Forbidden Romance” trope can be.

This isn’t just “Oh Luciens feelings will be hurt.” No. We are talking possible out right full on war. And this war won’t stop once Elain publicly makes a decision either. There has been build up for a huge fight between Tamlin and Rhysand. There has been build up for an, incredibly more interesting, immense fight between Beron and Helion.

Let’s also not forget why Mor is on the continent. She is trying to get the Fae territories over there to go with peace and sign treaties. Treaties in hopes to prevent war. Those Fae Territories would also come into play should there be war, they aren’t open to signing the treaties yet.

This is messy. This will not stop easily. This will be horrible. Beloved lives may be lost. Alliances broken forever. Pure chaos and full on war.

All for the “Forbidden Love” trope.

The toxic Elain/Azriel shippers who want the forbidden love trope regardless, show that they either do not understand the ramifications that come with it, or just don’t care.

Lucien is not some side character with no weight. Lucien is the only Heir of Day. He is also a former best friend of Spring, and half son of Autumn. He has formed really close friendships with the Human Lands, and his mate currently lives in Night.

No I don’t think he would start a Blood Duel with Azriel for Elain, he would find a way to live with Elains choice if she chose Azriel, but that doesn’t mean Azriel wouldn’t start the duel. That doesn’t mean Luciens ally’s wouldn’t step in. That doesn’t mean war won’t happen.

Dont act like you care about the fact that Elain has a choice, only when it benefits you and your ship. Both ships are valid. Stop shitting on Eluciens and by extension Lucien just because we have key points in our favour. We don’t do that to you.

Whether you like it or not, Lucien is one of the most important characters in this series. You can not deny that his political ties, that he alone holds, makes him one of the most powerful and influential players in all of Prythian.

——————————

Use this post and the points I’ve made for yourself if you want. If I have missed any key points don’t hesitate to let me know. I feel very passionately about this.

* Red Herring :: something, especially a clue, that is or is intended to be misleading or distracting.

#Luciens powerful #he stopped Cassians mate induced rage with only two words #calm down #and cassian came out of his rage #he didn’t even try #he’s a powerhouse #plus he’s fucking important #don’t deny it #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver #elucien #elain archeron #elain/lucien #lucien x elain #anti e/riel #anti elriel #Elain has a right to choose Lucien

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feysandfeels · 3 years

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ACOTAR 5 or 6?? (I don’t know which book is next)

Did someone ask for this? No, not really. Am I still going to theorize how the next book is going to go in length? Yes, yes I will. Also I’m doing a facemask that needs 20min to set in so like, I have time to kill.

I have seen many saying that Azriel’s book is next because through him we will get Illyria, which still needs to be dealt with. Also through him we get Gwynriel and that. Even though I can definitely see the logic behind that, I thought I might throw in another option just for shits and giggles.

This is more like a fever dream than anything. Don’t hold me to it, because I haven’t read these books with the academic rigorosity to come up with counter arguments as to why it’s Az’s and not Elain’s book that will come next. But, that being said, if I’m right I will say I told you so (lol).

Also this will further my Elucien agenda so like... yeah you’ve been warned.

Why Elain?

Because I think it makes more sense to go have a book deal with one villain working up to Koshei, than to have Beron+Koshei as the big baddies in one final book. So like ACOSF was the human queen, ACOTAR 5 is Beron and then ACOTAR 6 ultimate baddie Koshei. And who is character that has ties to Beron? Lucien and who would Lucien’s book be with? exactly, Azriel. no I’m kidding, of course Elain.

I also think Elain was a character that had a huge presence in this ACOSF despite having like three sentences. You could see her impact in the book and to me that was quite telling.

ACOTAR 5:

Right so we all can agree on a few things after being in this fandom for a couple of years or at least since the end of ACOSF: first, Elain and Lucien will deliver a Jane Austen type romance; second, it will entail a lot of court politics; and third, Elain is up to something and no one knows what it is. Yes?

First Act:

Elain doing her suspicious stuff and we as the reader find out what it is and can already see the negative implications

Lucien still taking the brunt of the work in the SC, which is still utter chaos.

BoE content: Vassa is agitated because her curse is nowhere near close to being broken and time is running out.

The IC finds out what Elain is been up to. I do think it has something to do with her wanting to go back to her human self. Cue the confrontation.

Meanwhile with Lucien: Vassa might attempt something it triggers a magical response from Koshei, an attack or something. Maybe Beron decides to make a move to the SC given that Tamlin is absent as a ruler. I don’t know, the point is we get a confrontation scene that sees Tamlin die to protect Lucien. Everyone is in shock because the HL of Spring just died, without heirs and close relatives. Where did the power go?

Lucien starts to feel it, but then he realizes that it’s not because it is happening to him.

Cue to Elain having her “i want to be human again I don’t care the cost” rant at the IC. Amren will call her a stupid girl, because that’s what she does. Then the power flows to her and she’s going to be hella confused, everyone in the IC is stunned and when Elain asks wtf just happened, Feyre will say: Tamlin died (because she can feel the shift of power of spring due to the kernel of power of spring that she has), so that means and Rhysand finishes the thought by saying that Elain is the new High Lady of the Spring Court (and the first cauldron-chosen high lady)

This means that now she has more ties to this fae world and can’t simply abandon them.

We will have some discussion about what to do next and Elain is all like “I don’t want to be High Lady I didn’t even want to be fae”. Trust someone in the IC, maybe Amren (since she has no problem with saying what everyone else is thinking in the bluntest-maybe even rudest way), to say that having Elain be HL of Spring would make everyone’s life easier given the unified Prythian front they must once again have because of the Koshei threat. Maybe it will even be Azriel and they will have the E/lriel fallout...

Lucien arrives at the NC to talk to Elain or well something.

News spread about what happened and they know that Elain’s claim (if she chooses to make it) to the SC is a tad shaky and not everyone will accept it. Beron is like the fuck if you think I will accept this human-turned fae claim. The SC is an strategic location and I will take it for myself because it will be useful fo my Koshei-agenda.

Eris arrives like hello my dad is about to move his army to the SC so now is the time to kill him

And Elain is still like “i don’t want it”. Think Jon Snow in GoT.

Cue an Archeron confrontation of “you can’t run away from your responsabilities// life is not neat and sometimes it will throw at you things you thought you wouldn’t have thought you’d needed to take on// take a stance for once and think beyond your own plants”.

Details are blurry but she is like I need to leave here (the NC) because no one has my best interest at heart they are just doing what it’s politically best. But who might have my best interest at heart? That’s right, Lucien. She asks him for help or to leave or whatever.

Lucien is a politician and a courtier but for once, for fucking once he will do something that’s not for political gain (for the court he represents). He will help her because he wants to see her at peace. They go to the human lands with BoE.

The first act ends with one dead Tamlin, one unsure Elain, one willing to help regardless of the decision Lucien, and one war focused Beron.

Second act:

The BoE content we have all been waiting for

Vassa might be weak from whatever happened and Jurian is all worried.

They see Elucien arrive and are like 👀👀👀👀. Lucien glares at them in a “say anything and i will in fact kill you” way.

Elain starts to open up and mentions that if anything it should be Lucien who’s the HL and not her because he knows the territory and it suits his skillset. All she wanted to do was have a quiet life and see the world.

Lucien says that if he were to make a claim he would need even more support from other courts, because if Elain’s claim is shaky at best, then his is like ... not great.

They agree that Lucien should travel to other courts to gather support because regardless whether it’s Elain or Lucien who will ascend to the Spring throne, they will need it. Elain asks if she can go with him because, as she said, she wanted to see more of the world.

We also get an Eris Vanserra visit - or several - and Lucien starts to realize that Eris knows waaaaaaaaaaaay more than he has lead on. And that they need to work together because again, regardless of who takes the throne, Beron will fight it, but if Eris is on the Autumn throne he would offer support to either.

Cue the Lads tour of Prythian ft. Politics-courtier plotline and the “how the fuck are we going to help Vassa” side quest.

Elain starts to learn more about what it takes to be a High Lady and about the territory of Spring and its people.

During visits to other courts one or two members of the IC will pop in and out.

Elucien slow burn + court romance begins (We have nice balls with tension because that’s how Jane Austen would have wanted it and this is nothing if not an austenian romance).

Elan will learn about Jessminda (that’s her name right?)

Lucien and Elain have a heart to heart one day and Lucien is like “I’ve never had a home that is mine, i’ve always owed it to someone else or it comes because they see me as a political pawn”.

Eventually another heart to heart about the complex grief (if you will) that Lucien must be feeling for Tamlin.

When we get to the Day Court, we get the baby news. Not only are they trying to gather Helion’s support but also to figure out a spell to save Vassa. Doing something with a spell Lucien and Helion find out. I imagine that Feysand is in the DC because they are trying to keep tabs on how Elain is feeling regarding her High Lady position and they wanted to meet somewhere neutral; and so is Eris, because things are getting out of hand at the AC so they are trying to see what they should do. Also Feysand are nosy bitches so of course they would be there.

After the reveal, Lucien is shooketh and leaves, Elain leaves after him. It is raining. They get wet and he stops when he arrives at a temple (we love a good P&P reference) Lucien starts the monologue of what does this mean, who am i, I’ve always been alone and Elain cuts in and says that maybe in the past he’s been alone but that he will never be again; Lucien turns to face her and she walks up to him and kisses him like the Cauldron intended when it made them mates.

We Eluciens are starting getting our well deserved smutt dishes.

Third act:

Elain is still a tad unsure about being a High Lady, because all she ever heard was that she was good at being pretty and an ornament, that she was meant to be the supporting role. Lucien is like “babes fuck what your mom said but no matter what you choose, I will choose you”.

Finally shit hits the fan at the AC so that’s where Elucien go and Helion.. because LoA is there and he says fuck it imma go help her Beron can go fuck himself.

However they do not arrive at the palace or something like that but to another location where we can finally have visual proof of what Eris has been up to. LoA appears. Her and Helion have a nice tête-a-tête.

Vassa and Jurian are there too beause #WereGoingToNeedAllTheHelpWeCanGet

Elucien formally arrive to Beron’s court, as is the plan.

The tension is absurd, the coup is about to happen, something goes wrong, they need to think of their feet, somebody gets hurt.. you know the usual stuff.

They use the spell to free Vassa and in such release of power Beron is confused and weakened

Lady of Autumn delivers the killing blow. Beron dies, power goes to Eris and everyone is like did we win??

Eris makes the joke that whichever half of Elucien will make the claim to the SC he will support it. By this moment is clear that Elain will take up the role so we all have a good laugh.

Archeron sister reunion, congratulations all around. Maybe a celebration in the SC??? or maybe that’s too tacky given that the whole court is still a mess,

Happy ending?? oh wait there’s something more uh-oh, when freeing Vassa you also freed Koshei. Oh you thought you had weakened Koshei by killing is Prythian ally? think again. Koshei is a god of death that now has full access to his powers.

The end.

#Elucien #ACOTAR 6 #Elain Archeron #Lucien Vanserra #Beron Vanserra #Helion #Sarah J Maas #FeysandfeelsPost #As per usual #whatever mistake I have made spelling or grammar wise will be corrected after and only after i post this #because I only see my mistakes when something is already public and not when it's in my drafts.

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hacawijo · 3 years

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Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 2)

Yeah baby, part 2 of a PAINSTAKING close read lol.

Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything he uses the shadows to ESCAPE, they are a coping mechanism, appearing at the door to Rhys’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs. It’s interesting that the shadows specifically report on Elain’s whereabouts here and not earlier, as well as later not reporting on Gwyn.

Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys’s power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” It is not out of line for Rhys to acknowledge that this was stupid. If for no other reason than that it would hurt Lucien if he saw/felt them.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. Which is the mirror to something that Rhys notes in ACOFAS, that they are similar in their darkness. Because Rhys is really the only person Azriel can be himself with, completely, I think it’s important to acknowledge that this is unprecedented ground for them and specifically for Azriel. This is the first time Azriel can actually voice ANY of these thoughts out loud, and only because Rhys saw them, he did not bring this concern to Rhys himself. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?” Also very not out of line thing to ask. Feyre is the only person Mor has really told about her sexuality, and so to Rhys and co. AND Azriel, nothing about this situation has changed in the past 500 years. The fact that Azriel is able to get over Mor, without that confirmation of her sexuality, because of Elain, is significant I think.

Azriel ignored the question. Hmm yeah, but he can’t keep ignoring this question forever, and that’s another reason he and Elain did NOT kiss in this chapter. He and his family and Mor all need closure regarding their relationship. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Oh boy, I have a lot to say about the number three later on! Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words out loud. NEVER BEFORE DARED TO SPEAK THE WORDS OUT LOUD. This is the first time he’s even verbalizing these thoughts - of COURSE he doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. This is raw emotion being spewed out right now, enhanced by the unresolved tension from his interaction with Elain.

Rhys’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?” So, he says that his two brothers ARE WITH two of those sisters, which is a way to acknowledge the fact that both people in each pair accepted the bond and that it was a mutually built connection. Then he says “the third was given to another” which is actually really different. He’s saying that Elain was given to Lucien by the Cauldron, suddenly one member of that bond is not an active participant - and this is mostly true! Elain has ignored Lucien diligently, and she hinted about her lack of feelings for him when she asked Feyre why he should be entitled to her affections just because of the cauldron and whatever amends he has made. I don’t like Azriel saying that Elain is something to be given as opposed to a person to be connected to, but I’m not sure exactly what it means that he did that. ANYWAY, Rhys really does supply the word deserve, and we have evidence from earlier in this chapter that essentially proves that Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain, anyway. He is having an argument with Rhys, yes, but it almost feels like he’s arguing with himself.

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.” (THE ONLY TIME ELAIN’S ACTUAL FEELINGS, ACTIONS ARE CONSIDERED IN THIS DISCUSSION BTW) Also, not that he doesn’t answer Rhys’s question. For Azriel, this isn’t necessarily about what HE deserves in this moment, it’s about what Elain wants. Almost certainly, Azriel DOESN’T believe that he deserves Elain, but he sees the injustice of her being forced to accept a bond with someone for political or spiritual/societal reasons. So while to Rhys it may seem like Azriel is is putting Lucien’s claim down in order to boost his own, I actually think Azriel is trying to distinguish a different issue - Elain’s agency. This same thing happened with Mor and Eris. ABSOLUTELY THIS IS NOT ALL LIKE THAT SITUATION BECAUSE LUCIEN IS NOT ERIS!!! I am not trying to compare their behavior. BUT, Azriel would have dueled Eris for Mor’s agency regardless of whether or not she chose to be with him.

“So you’ll what?” Rhys’s voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?” Rhys, I think, misinterpreting Azriel and it’s mostly not Rhys’s fault. Azriel doesn’t communicate well and is not currently communicating well. That being said, I wish he would give Azriel more benefit of the doubt.

Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. HE HADN’T PLANNED ANYTHING, this whole conversation is just like a raw nerve.

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.” Well come on, now, Rhys, what if she doesn’t want to stay away from him? BE A FEMINIST RHYS, just add, “unless she wants to see you”!

ALSO, DID RHYS TELL FEYRE ABOUT THIS? MY MONEY IS ON NO, AND IF RHYS DIDN’T TELL HER ITS BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WHOLLY DOING THE RIGHT THING BY ELAIN.

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” Another really big sign that this is going to play out Elriel style is the mentioning of the Blood Duel. Chekhov’s gun eh?

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Yes see? He would have done this regardless of Mor’s feelings toward him. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.” But hey fun fact Rhys knows that Lucien is almost CERTAINLY not Beron’s son. Interesting to consider in context.

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true. Again, Azriel is dodging Rhys’s points and is honestly being pretty immature right now, but he hasn’t actually said ANYTHING about an intention to pursue Elain with any of this. Rhys has filled in the blanks, and Azriel has responded to smaller aspects of Rhys’s macro-points with which he finds fault. I think this is also because he knows Rhys is right about a lot of the realities of the situation, but he is in the mood to be contrary right now, so he’s fighting back where he can stomach it.

“I know.” Rhys’s eyes flickered. “And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court, but Also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. Rhys’s motivations are based entirely on things that have nothing to do with Elain’s feelings, which is sad. But, they’re not insignificant considerations. Though come on dude you did pretty much enable Hybern’s arrival to Prythian by alienating The Spring Court with Feyre’s escape.“So you will leave Elain alone. YES, ALONE, because Elain probably is PRETTY FREAKIN LONELY If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” Low. Blow.

Azriel snarled softly.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.” I do think this is a really ungenerous description of what was happening downstairs with Elain. Their interaction was careful and consensual, we have painstaking detail to prove that, and it was far from panting/animalistic in action.

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. This is another person taking ANOTHER choice away from Elain. I think she may find out about Rhys doing this and I personally think she’s gonna be rightfully pissed.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out.”

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. With Elain, he is SOMETHING. Because he feels things.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, Further evidence that Azriel never intended to fight Lucien or make a stink over Elain and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it occupied. His shadows had not warned him. I am not sure what it means that his shadows didn’t warn him. It could mean that Gwyn is protected from his shadows/immune to them. It could mean that his shadows wanted him to go see Gwyn - either out of a desire for Azriel to find some peace with her or out of curiosity as to who/what she is?

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

She stopped mid-slice, whirling to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here and—“

“It’s fine. I came here to retrieve something I forgot.” The lie was smooth and cool, as he knew his face was. His shadows peered over his wings at her. They are… wary of her? They’re shy around her?

The young priestess smiled — and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She pointed with her sword at the white ribbon, which seemed to glow silver. Some interesting language here and above (glimmering, glow etc.) to do with light, and again a juxtaposition between light and dark. But not a golden light, a colder/silver light.

“Aren’t you cold?” His breath clouded in front of him.

Gwyn shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Gaze is definitely a romantically charged word, this is one of the tiny details that makes me unsure about the future nature of their relationship. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. I definitely do not think they are mates. I’m not closing the door on them being romantically involved, I don’t have enough evidence to do that, but I really think that if they were mates, Azriel would have known when he saw her at Sangravah.

Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he’d been the one who’d found her that day at Sangravah. Shades of Cassian’s reactions to Emerie’s wings having been clipped, in ACOFAS. “Happy Solstice,” she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes I have a lot to say about these teal eyes :) flashed with alarm. “No! I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone.” Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. “Is that why you came up here?” I’ll talk more about this later, but there are a few small moments in the book where it seems like Gwyn might have a crush on Azriel, or some kind of special awareness/interest where he is concerned. I have seen almost no evidence that Az returns those potential feelings, except PERHAPS for the moment where he hears her screech and pays attention. But I think anyone would pay attention if someone screeched? Also he watches reverently as she cuts the ribbon, but that also feels like it would happen regardless of any romantic feelings he might have. But I don’t know for sure!

Sort of. “I forgot something.”

“At two in the morning?”

Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he’d spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. He cares that she not be feeling pain and grief, as he does with anyone he deems good, and that is part of why he offers her the smile, as he clearly says right here. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

“A comfort to every growing child.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. I think her irreverence matches his sense of humor quite well. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow.

“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. This shadow is acting totally independent of him. She’s asking a simple question of Azriel at the moment, and he CAN’T hear the music he believes that shadow might be dancing to. Lightsinger evidence, I’d say.

“Fine,” he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. “It was nice.” LOL I will say here that Azriel has to make a lot of conscious effort in this interaction. He makes himself respond in a specific way, which is not language that was used to describe his interactions with Elain earlier in the chapter. This could totally just be because he doesn’t know Gwyn that well, and certainly that’s a big part of it, but I think there’s something to be said for the fact that he is still filtering himself here with Gwyn in the quiet.

Not much better. So he asked, “Did you can the priestesses have a celebration?”

“Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.” LOL

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. More glowing-type stuff “Do you sing?” I love Gwyn.

He blinked. It wasn’t everyday that people took him by surprise, but... which is great! Elain surprises him with the headache medicine in ACOFAS, Feyre surprises him with her intuition and tenderness throughout. I think this indicates that they will have a significant relationship regardless of its exact nature. “Why do you ask?”

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I am a shadowsinger— it’s not a title that someone just made up.” It’s super-duper interesting that they actually discuss the fact that he’s a shadowsinger. When Feyre meets Azriel, she is curious, but specifically doesn’t ask follow-up questions or for expansion on the ability. Why specifically remind us here that Azriel is a shadowsinger and that Gwyn sings? If not to foreshadow something related to the ability and Gwyn?

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you though?” She pressed. “Sing?”

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” I love Gwyn. She is the reason I now realize a lot of what I’ve been doing in my life is irreverence :P

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she’d ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.” I love this so much. Maybe it is romantic, but I think that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is that it’s completely charming.

“What— with you watching?” It’s actually pretty funny that in order to avoid giving a demonstration of something that makes him vulnerable and puts Gwyn in the role of expert he flips it and makes her demonstrate vulnerability while he is the expert. Gwyn might be quite a bit braver than Azriel in some ways.

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn’t sever the ribbon. SEE? Brave. I love Gwyn.

“Again,” he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson. Distraction is a notable word here. Azriel’s thoughts don’t really ever stray from Elain and his turmoil throughout this interaction, that’s what the word distraction tells us.

Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground,” Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. “Watch.” He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. “You see how you open up right here?” He corrected his position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.” I sense a lot of compatibility, just, again, not sure it’s romantic.

Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. This is another line that I think offers the most evidence for something significant between Gwyn and Azriel. It’s lovely that she has helped to settle something restless in him with the distraction - and I think it’s important to note that it might not have done the same thing had he encountered Emerie or another trainee on the roof. At the same time, maybe it would have. Also love that his shadows like to watch Gwyn. Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence! This all being said, I can’t really think of an SJM romance that is built around a comfort zone. I can think of many friendships that operate that way, but not so much with the romances. There’s usually nervousness and flutters and passion and… restlessness, somewhere in there.

But— sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. I love Gwyn.

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. This feels VERY much like Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence. His shadows, as this chapter has demonstrated time and again, operate independently of him, and they react to Gwyn’s song. I also think it’s possible that Gwyn is sort of always singing, even when she’s not. Like she glows with song on some level, and that’s what his shadows are reacting to - because I don’t think she’d necessarily actually sing while attempting to cut the ribbon.

He slept as well as could be expected which means pretty much not at all y’all — he makes it clear he never expects to sleep well, but when Azriel returned to the River House to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it. Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. How did the necklace get there??? Did Elain really put it there??? Seems like even more evidence that he assumes too much about her understanding of his feelings. Also, though, it seems really rude/OOC for Elain to do that. She gave up very quickly after he gave her a really thoughtful gift. SOMETHING’S FISHY.

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.

Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. Important to remember that this is one of the longest nights of the year, which means dusk is coming on later than it was when Nesta attended the evening service weeks/months prior- a service that started almost exactly when seven bells rang the time. It is very well possible that Azriel finds himself at the library as the evening service is happening. The one in which Gwyn sings. If she does have some kind of Lightsinger power in her, it may be that he was lured by that power instead of returning the necklace. Even if they always start at 7, he still arrives exactly at 7. The only point against this surmising that I’ve done is that Clotho led the service which Nesta attended, and yet she is here to greet Azriel. Either I’m wrong and the service is not happening at or around this time, OR the service can take place without Clotho occasionally, and this served the interest of the plot so that Az could speak with someone.

He slid the small box across her desk. “If you see Gwyn, would you give this to her?”

Clotho angled her hooded head, and her enchanted pen wrote on a piece of paper. A Solstice gift from you?

Azriel shrugged. “Don’t tell her it came from me.” Yes, it really doesn’t seem super romantic to re-gift a necklace to Gwyn. It just feels sour, if this is the start of a romance between them.

Why?

“Does she need to know? Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.”

That would be a lie.

He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed— of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth. This feels very important. We know VERY LITTLE about Azriel’s story, his past, and his family, and so I want to point out ANY and EVERY nugget we get!

“Look I...” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” I’m not exactly sure what it means that Azriel says this. It could be that he doesn’t want to make a thing of his potential feelings for Gwyn and so tries to deflect with this statement, both to convince Clotho and himself that it’s not about Gwyn. It could also mean that Azriel needed to be rid of the necklace, and wasn’t in the mood to fight with Clotho over an ultimately secondary (to getting rid of the necklace) impulse to give it to someone who provided him comfort and companionship at a time when he needed it.

He waited for Clotho’s pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.

He offered her a grim smile. “I lost the snowball fight today.” HE LOST THE FIRST SNOWBALL FIGHT IN 200 YEARS! And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Gwyn made him feel better the previous night. I think he lost because he is in anguish over the situation with Elain. Again, I understand that anguish shouldn’t necessarily be a romantic thing, but in SJM’s writing it often is. This is a romance series, angst is a thing, stakes are a thing. It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s also not all-the-way unhealthy. He just feels strongly about Elain and there are a lot of obstacles between him and finding a way to resolve those feelings for good or bad.

I am a counselor for folks who have and are dealt/dealing with sexual, gender-based, and interpersonal violence, and if you want me to do an analysis of all of the relationships in SJM’s writing that aren’t wholly healthy, there won’t be any left over. Except for maybe Sartaq and Nesryn. they really do have their shit together. I suspend a fair amount of my disbelief and professional knowledge in reading these books because I love them and they are fictional :) Also, relationships are complicated. It’s pretty rare for me to work with a client that has a cut-and-dry, black-and-white story.

Now, in my PERSONAL NOT PROFESSIONAL experience, shit is messy, and messiness, even in real life, doesn’t always mean something isn’t worth the strife. Though absolutely abuse and assault are a whole other thing. I think it’s really good to think critically about relationship dynamics in fiction, because it’s a safe place to do great learning and reflection. I also think it’s important to consider that the rules of our reality are not necessarily the rules of the reality being written by an author. Maybe you personally find Azriel’s feelings toward Elain (as they have been expressed so far) are beyond redemption, and are unhealthy to a point where the relationship cannot be salvaged. But that is not realistically a reason that the relationship in question won’t happen. Pretty much any negative/toxic assertions that can be leveled against Elriel based on the VERY SMALL amount of first-person perspective we have in the relationship could be leveled against at least a few of SJM’s other endgame couples. Totally happy to get into this more and provide those examples :)

Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth. Tell her a friend left it for her.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... “Fine. Thank you.” Not sure what this means. Maybe just that it takes Az a while to open up to people and call them friends.

Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring her.

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. And here we have the most romantic evidence for Az and Gwyn as a couple. Maybe he is falling for her and that’s why he can picture her smile. I really don’t know. I think it could also be that he is happy to be able to make her happy, in recognition of the comfort she gave him the previous evening. Maybe he can picture her because of her potential lightsinger status. Thoughts?

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. The image glowing, again, lightsinger-supporting language.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So now he is referring to Gwyn’s smile here. This is interesting, because Gwyn’s smile wouldn’t necessarily be a secret, but perhaps it is if you think of her as being hidden in the library, or that he’ll know about her smile and her receiving the necklace even though she won’t know that he’s the one who gave it to her. Or maybe he’s drop dead in love with her! Another thing that I don’t think is true given his stony attitude post-Solstice (when Gwyn is very much around) and the fact that he doesn’t seem to react viscerally to Gwyn’s kidnapping until Cassian points out that bad things could be happening to both her AND Emerie, as well as Nesta. He knows Gwyn just as well, if not better at this point, as he knew Elain when he reacted to HER kidnapping in ACOWAR. He was very riled, he was the one who noticed she was gone, he vowed almost immediately to go get her, knowing it might mean certain death (to be fair, he seems to have a bit of a death wish, BUT he’s still a pragmatist and doesn’t try to WASTE his life on things - either they’re essential to the court and/or Prythian’s wellbeing or essential to someone for whom he cares deeply.)

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elriel #elain archeron #rhysand #gwyn acosf #acosf #acotar theory #acosf theory #azriel bonus chapter #azriel pov #azriel x elain #lightsinger #shadowsinger

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 4

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

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THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Four: A Little Lost, A Little Found

Elain was in Lockhart Manor. Elain was currently sleeping a few doors down the hallway. Elain, his mate, was here. Elain-

“Oh, shut up,” Lucien groaned to his own mind, as he rolled over with more vigour than necessary. But there was little hope of sleep finding him tonight, not when he felt so energised and awake. Not only did Lucien feel the bond, taut and invigorated in-between his ribs, but he could still smell Elain, that Spring morning clear in his mind.

What was she doing here? What had changed?

Had she come for him?

Of course not. Right?

Lucien rolled over again, allowing a small snarl of frustration to rip from his lips. If Lucien knew Elain a little better then maybe he’d actually be able to talk to her and ask her these questions. But he didn’t know her, and he wasn’t her friend.

Maybe she’d come to break the bond. That had to be it. Given his luck his entire life it was outrageous to believe that his mate who he hadn’t spoken to for two years had travelled the country to be under the same roof as him, to work alongside him, to go to meetings by his side as his…colleague?

He just wanted to talk to her. One clear conversation where he wasn’t holding back, when he didn’t care about every word both spoken and unspoken. One conversation where he could be the silver-tongued fox he’d been before any Archeron had entered his life. But around Elain he was a fool. A hopeless, romantic fool.

Oh, how Tamlin would’ve goaded him over this. Lucien, who had taken lovers to his bed as though he was being paid, unable to even conjure more than a sentence in front of a female. Well, old Tamlin would’ve laughed at him – with him. Old Tamlin would’ve laughed, period. Now…Now he was another thing in Lucien’s life that had turned to poison.

It was only last week, after Nyx’s arrival, that Lucien received a letter from Rhysand detailing his new assignment in the Spring Court. He’d been able to delay such work thus far, but by the end of the week he was expected in Spring. Following that, the plan was to manipulate his way into alternating weeks between the Spring and Lockhart Manor.

Would he leave Elain here? Could he convince her to somehow come with him to Spring?

She’d love it there, not just the proper and neat gardens of the Spring Manor (or what was left of their civilisation) but also the rugged fields and forests. Spring Court was violent with life. It was a pandemonium of flora, every single plant one could possibly find in Prythian could be found somewhere in the battlefield of the Spring lands. The overwhelming, erratic terrain was exactly where Lucien saw Elain thriving.

If he took her maybe she’d love it. She’d most likely take clippings or, or maybe not. Maybe she would just stay for a moment, and enjoy existing in such a place, her gentle hands refusing to intervene with the beautiful, wild course of nature. Maybe she’d lie down in the fields, maybe she’d go swimming with him in the pools of starlight. One day, far, far, far into the future.

Maybe she’d smile – a real, genuine smile. Lucien believed he still had yet to experience the privilege of seeing such a phenomenon.

The voice of the bond had quietened in his mind, along with the voice which seemed to come from deeper down, the one that told Lucien exactly how much shit he was in given the size of the schoolboy crush he’d somehow developed. But still, there was little chance of Lucien finding more than a few hours of sleep.

And so, with his body alive and electric, Lucien did what he had been doing for the past two years. Lucien wrote a letter - one that was never, ever, intended to be read.

***

Breakfast was awkward. Surely it wasn’t always this awkward, not with the glint in Jurian’s smile and the steel in Vassa’s glare. Lucien seemed…bemused, he appeared to be glaring at his toast and eggs as though they contained some secret prophecy that he needed to decipher.

She was curious about the particulars of Vassa’s curse, about how she knew when the change was coming. Did it happen always at sunrise? How much time did she have to prepare? Was it the workings of the death lord’s magic, or his deal? She was especially curious given that one of her tasks being down here was to help undo Vassa’s ties to the death lord, not that she was sure the Band of Exiles were aware of that given her sister’s ruined letter.

It was Vassa’s stoic silence that kept Elain from opening her mouth. That and a million other worthless reasons.

“Is there something you wish to ask me, Ms Archeron?” Vassa eventually spoke into the unbearable silence, perhaps aware of the frequency of Elain’s not so inconspicuous side-glances. Elain fought the blush as glared at her plate.

“Elain, please…” maybe she was being paranoid, but the way everyone here kept stressing her title felt like an awful lot like a reminder of the title she was supposed to have in these lands. The life she was supposed to have, the husband, the house, now it all felt so foreign.

“Really, we should be calling her Lady,” Jurian smiled, his own breakfast consisting of a single orange and a small goblet of black coffee, a delicacy of the Night Court he’d bought in bulk.

“Perhaps…if we were in Prythian,” Vassa said non-committedly.

“Titles do not interchange between borders, even human borders,” Lucien spoke up suddenly, his voice sounded causal and polite, but his figure had gone rigid, and his eyes were burning as they rested on Vassa who seemed to shiver slightly under his gaze. Elain adverted her gaze, an ugly feeling flashing through her like lightening. She’d been avoiding looking at him for most of the meal, desperate to ignore how she’d noticed that he’d changed.

“Lady Elain…” Vassa began, her eyes still locked with Lucien’s and Elain felt a furious blush warm her cheeks. God she was so…angry. Stupid mating bond. “Last night you asked me to discuss with you how you maybe be of some use whilst working with us,” Vassa’s eyes found hers from where she was seated at the head of the table, Jurian and Lucien either side of her, Elain next to Jurian. “Well tonight we’re having dinner and talks at the Nolan’s residence-”

“Which of course you won’t be forced to attend,” Lucien ground out, glaring at the queen who just shrugged and reached for the syrup.

“We’ll be discussing all manner of important things; it would be a brilliant opportunity for Elain to familiarise herself with those who she’ll be working in close quarters with for the foreseeable future.”

“These dinners are of little consequence,” Lucien’s eyes flickered to Elain’s for a moment before his gaze returned to the queen and Elain felt something inside her crack. It was as though he couldn’t look at her for more than a second, that or he couldn’t bear to look away from the queen. “I don’t even bother with attending.” Lucien directed at the queen.

“There’s ample opportunity for Elain to make acquaintances elsewhere,” Jurian said through a yawn, leaning back with a stretch. But Elain didn’t miss how his eyes appeared to rove over his two fiery-haired companions. Mother, how she wished they would stop talking about her rather than with her. If she wanted to be discussed at the table as though she were a child she might as well have stayed in the Night Court.

“I’m grateful for the offer but today I was hoping to have a look over the current contracts and ensure they’re meeting the timeline Feyre had drawn for you. Once I can ensure the work you’ve done thus far meets the standards of my High Lady then I’ll know what to both expect and push for with the human councils.” The words flowed out of Elain in an orderly manner, in the exact way she’d practiced as she fell asleep the night prior.

Unlike the Night Court, it was clear Elain was going to have to fight and demand for her own voice and seat at the table. Here, with the Band of Exiles, no one would coddle her. So, she’d either have to stay in the shadows, or step into the light.

Besides, there wasn’t enough gold in the world that would make Elain step a single foot in the Manor that would’ve been her home, once upon a time.

Vassa opened her mouth to say something before shutting it and turning back to her plate, a firm line carved in between her brows. Jurian was glancing around the table with a shit-eating grin and Lucien, the tension in his body had seemed to ease and after a small moment, he took a large mouthful of food.

“Are there, um, any other gatherings I may be able to attend, later in the week?” Elain tried to shake the nervousness from her voice. She couldn’t let these three see her as someone able to be pushed to the side. She needed this.

“There has been weekly meetings with all the human lords,” Lucien said after swallowing, his eyes meeting hers in a way that drew the breath from her body, “Huckleberry Hall is where we’ve been hosting the crowds-”

“The house by the old creek?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from interrupting, her mother would’ve pinched her thigh under the table for such poor manners. But it was just so alarming, to hear the residencies of her childhood come out of Lucien’s mouth. He’d always felt so far and distant, and yet, he was familiar with the lands she’d grown up in. Though she wouldn’t admit it, it made her wish she knew about him. His upbringing.

“That’s the one,” Lucien’s smile was soft and warm and…genuine. “We’re having a meeting there the day after tomorrow. If you wish, you’re most welcome to attend, it’s where the most current information is, and the meeting will give you’re a formal opportunity to meet with our human colleagues. I was heading there today anyways to meet with their cartographer, if you…well, if you’d like to…accompany me?”

“Yes I, uh, I don’t know the way to Huckleberry from here,” Elain was far to aware of two sets of human eyes boring into her at that moment.

“Yes,” Lucien blinked. Not quite a statement. Not quite a question, either. “Yes…good, yes. We’ll set off at first light then...”

Elain just nodded. Not trusting her voice to speak.

***

They were walking in silence.

As Lucien at promised, at first light he’d met Elain at the Lockhart’s front door, his hands behind his back as he waited at the bottom of the stairs. Elain had taken a moment to assess his clothes before she had to look away. He was wearing a loose brown shirt, dark trousers and brown boots. It was a perfect outfit for the summer morning, with the thick air and dewy sunlight. But it was the sight of his crimson hair, tied in a loose bun at the nape of his neck, a few whisps framing the sharp angles of his face, that had Elain looking away.

Lucien seemed to still as she came into view, quickly saying goodbye to Nuala who turned and made her way back up the stairs, and Elain turned to watch her go, giving Lucien a chance to look her over. Her dress was a plain cream, and was of a simple cut that could pass in both human and fae realms – a cunning choice of clothing he thought. The neckline was perhaps a little daring for the human communities which was hilarious given that all one could see of Elain was her collarbones, but the full skirts were the same of the women he’d seen in these lands.

It was her hair he lingered on. Even when bouncing with curls it came down to her waist. Intricate braids pulled most of it away from her face and Lucien could spot pale flowers in a variety of sizes perched at the crown of her head. Real flowers, nothing like the faux pieces the humans tended to favour. She was…divine. Impossible. Beyond him, in every conceivable way.

“You ready?” He tried smiling at her, but it felt as though it came across more of a grimace.

“Hm mm,” Elain bowed her head, a faint blush colouring her cheeks as her curls bounced. Gods, he was fucked.

Silence had fallen quickly over the duo, besides the odd ‘watch out for that root’ or ‘duck’ as they made their way into the forestry of the mortal lands. The path was clear until a certain junction, and then it became little more than a dirt path, only wide enough for them to walk single file. Lucien had wanted Elain to go first so that he’d be able to keep an eye on her, to keep her safe, until he remembered that she quite literally didn’t know where she was going.

Lucien had thought Elain would’ve been disgruntled by the shrubbery pulling at her fine dress, but Elain meandered through the forest in an expert fashion. She gathered her skirts in her hands and would hop with a doe-like grace over the greenery and roots. In fact, the only time he heard her disgruntled was when she’d accidentally stepped on some plant or flower – forever a lady of the forest.

It was only when Lucien was finding himself relax in their silence that disaster struck. Lucien’s foot snagged on something under a large fern that had grown over the path, and then there was an audible snap of leather. The noise was enough to set Lucien into action, with one arm, he unsheathed his Autumn sword and with the other he turned and pulled Elain into him, all sense and thought evaporating from his mind and being replaced with the single, overwhelming urge to ‘protect, protect, protect’.

But where Lucien had been prepared for an enemy of mortal body, their attack came from above. Lucien saw a glint of something dropping down on them at a furious pace and pulled Elain tighter to his chest, bending slightly at the waist so he covered her entirely, so that not one inch of Elain was visible to the attack from above.

But the attack never came, not quite. When Lucien span, turning to tuck Elain behind him as he faced the enemy, he came face to face with…a cage…of wood. Ashwood.

The cage arched over Lucien and Elain, and the wood was interwoven in a way that was reminiscent of the dog cages Eris had used for his Dobermans. It was hilarious really. Lucien and Elain, two fae, and highly powerful fae at that, caged in like a common pup.

Lucien was just scoffing at the cage when he felt Elain shift behind him. Turning around, Lucien just caught Elain as she reached out for the cage, perhaps in an attempt to shift the weak structure out of her way.

“Elain, don’t-” But it was too late, Elain had ran her hand along the edge of the meshed cage before pulling her arm back with a pained gasp. “Shit!” Lucien was by her side in a flash, one hand on her arm, tucking her away from the cage as though it were an enemy, and he were blocking her from view. His other hand went to her crumpled hand which was now throbbing as a furious burn puckered across the surface.

Looking down, Elan watched as Lucien turned and, without touching the damaged skin, assessed her injured palm.

“Fae trap,” Lucien growled, “many councils are encouraging their use now that the wall’s gone.”

“How horrible…” Elain whispered before surprise rattled through her. Three years ago she would’ve thought these traps necessary protection against the evil fae. But now, they just seemed cruel.

“Horrible for us and other civilised fae, but there are other creatures, particularly the southern woods of Spring, who one might argue deserve every bit of this treatment.” Lucien turned back to glaring at the cage, and if looks could burn Elain didn’t doubt that the wood – perhaps the whole forest – would be furiously ablaze.

“I…I don’t know if I’d call you civilised…” Elain finally murmured, allowing herself to momentarily give into the urge to soothe him, to let him know that she was okay. Lucien’s head whipped back around to her and, after a moment of assessing her soft expression, a coy smile that showed his perfect teeth pulled at his lips. Not a laugh, but a genuine smile.

“Was that a joke, Lady?”

“An attempt,” Elain couldn’t help but shyly duck away from his warm eyes and dimpled smile. “You know,” she changed the topic, “I can’t image these kinds of things would work.” She nodded up to the cage.

“When there’s Ashwood involved, anything’s possible.”

“I’ve seen fae on a battlefield,” she shuddered involuntarily, “Something like this,” she went to touch the cage before remembering and flinching her hand back, “seems hardly daunting.”

“Ashwood doesn’t work like an Illyrian, they’re all cock and walk, Ashwood is cunning and clever,” Lucien was glaring at the cage, his metal eye clicking and whirring as it roved over the trap.

“How can wood be cunning?”

“It’s a weapon, all weapons have personality.”

“Does your sword have personality?” Elain murmured, nodding at the silver blade she’d never seen him without.

“Well…since it comes from the Autumn Court, it would be safe to assume it’s the metal equivalent of a ruthless git.” Lucien shook his head, his crimson hair shifting in a stream of sunlight. “A human trapping a fae or two in some Ashwood is easy,” Lucien continued, “But then begs the question of what one would do from there.”

“Well, they’d have to lift the cage,”

“They’d be dead in seconds,” Lucien quipped, his head cocking to the side, whisps of his fiery hair following his movement. “Go on, don’t stop, think like a fae hunter.”

“I’d rather not,” Elain shivered slightly, very aware of how close Lucien was standing. Elain also didn’t fail in missing the dark shadow that passed through Lucien’s eye at the nod towards her ex-fiancé.

“Okay, then think like a fae.” Lucien swung his arms across his chest with a catlike grace, “You’re hunting, let’s see...an Attor, clearly feeling a little dangerous today. It’s walked right into your lovey cage of Ashwood, which let me say Lady Archeron, I must compliment you on your excellent lattice work.” Elain giggled and Lucien faltered in his speech, his eyes widening as he looked as though he’d struck gold. “So…” he cleared his throat, “You’ve trapped the Attor in your wonderful cage, then what?”

“Well, it depends on what I want an…At-tor, for?”

“Hm, interesting. Let’s say you need to cut out it’s tongue for a healing tonic.” Elain made a face, “Okay, okay, no tonics.”

“No tongues please.”

“Oh really?” Lucien couldn’t stop his shit-eating grin, especially when Elain began to blush furiously and avoid his eye. Something inside Lucien was racing, entirely giddy at the fact he was bantering with Elain, Elain, Archeron.

“The Attor?” Elain stressed, turning around and perching herself on a fallen trunk.

“Interrogation – you need vital information pronto, or the High Lord will have your head.”

“Rhysand?”

“Well if in this world you, Elain Archeron, are hunting an Attor, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to believe that I might be High Lord.”

“Of which court?”

“None of them. No, all of them. No wait, my own court – the ‘Lucien is incredibly handsome’ court.” Lucien was pushing his luck, that he knew. He was towing that line as always, the one between banter and a step too far. Saying something that would cause the other to retract from him, or carve out his eye. But Elain just tilted her head, her honey hair spilling across her pale dress.

“You have many devout followers in this court?”

“Maybe, but only one of them matters.” He grinned at her knowingly, testing the waters, seeing how far he could go with her before they remembered they were bonded by destiny. Something shy flickered across Elain’s face as she took in his meaning. And then.

“Are you peacocking right now?” Elain smiled, a real smile.

“I’m always peacocking,” Lucien grinned, a real grin. Then his eye caught on the hand Elain was still cradling to her chest, and something akin to agony tore through his chest.

“Mother, I’m sorry,” He muttered, his amusement having evaporated as he hurried to sit next to Elain, taking her ruined palm into his lap with a featherlight touch. “I can’t ever shut up. I just talk and talk and forget about the important things.”

“What are you doing?” Elain was sure he voice sounded somewhat strangled as Lucien zoned in on her mutilated palm, his metal eye whirring as he ran a single finger along it’s creases.

“I have the ability to heal,” Lucien’s voice also sounded a bit strained as he hunched himself over her hand.

“Oh…” Elain murmured, as a warm sensation prickled across her skin, and she watched as the red splotches clamed back into ivory. “You know,” Elain was practically whispering as Lucien moved to her fingers, “My skin never used to be this colour.”

“Oh?” Lucien seemed to be breathing through his mouth, and with is gaze occupied, Elain allowed herself to rove over his appearance. The knot of crimson hair, the strong yet angled brows, the white webs of his scar, prominent cheekbones, sharp jaw, full and wide lips, and a strong curved nose.

“No…” Elain breathed, “I always used to be so much tanner than my sisters, I was always in the gardens as we were growing up you see. My mother would ring me out for it. She’d love the colour I’m now.” The colour she’d been since the Cauldron. She didn’t know why she was telling him all this, or why it felt so natural to talk to him about these things. But here in the human lands, a world away from the sneers of Nesta or the gossiping of Feyre, Elain found that she didn’t mind the idea of conversing with Lucien.

“I was always the darkest out of my brothers,” Lucien moved to her second finger.

“How many do you have?”

“Seven,” Lucien met her eyes momentarily with a cheeky grin.

“Seven!” Elain smiled back, and then Lucien’s eyes seemed to darken and something in him seemed to rescind as he turned back to her hand.

“Well, I used to have seven…a few of them died.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” Lucien seemed to go to say something, his mouth turning into a frown, before he shook his head and moved to the next finger.

“I…my mother told it was because I’d been kissed by the Sun when I was born…that’s why I was so tan. I was born on the Autumn Equinox, it’s the longest day of autumn in the Autumn Court, the sun turns crimson and blesses the lands for the upcoming year.”

“That sounds very beautiful…”

“It is. It’s believed the trees come to life in the night and talk to each other, lovers of the earth able to speak for a few hours of the year. There’s feasts and fires, and we read stories of the sacrifice of the Wyvern.”

“Wyvern?” Elain’s yes turned bright and wide, “As in the animal from adventure novels?”

“Animal is an awfully polite term to describe harbinger’s of fire and death,” a grin flickered across Lucien’s face, “It’s believed that centuries and centuries ago, when the Old Gods still ruled the Earth, the Autumn Court was a nest of Wyverns. When the world changed into what it is today the mother Wyvern, Hermenegilda, scattered her cubs throughout time so that they may survive. Every year those of the Autumn Court gather in the caves to see if a cub will appear, and to praise the mother for her sacrifice.”

“Do they? The cubs, do they appear?”

“They used to, though a cub has not been found since before I was born. Courtiers tend to believe the cubs have run out, that there are no more children of the mother Wyvern, but devout believers still hope for a cub to appear each year.” With that, Lucien finished healing her pinkie finger and turned to peer at her. Their bodies still close, Elain’s palm still resting in his hand in his lap.

“You…what do you believe?” Elain breathed, her voice just a whisper.

“I think…well I…” Lucien’s voice was breathy and low, intimate in a way Elain hadn’t heard before, “...I’d like to believe that anything’s possible.”

Before Elain could have a moment to respond, or even think about what possible double meaning could come from his words, a furious flapping of wings caused her to startle and whip her head around, ripping her hand from Lucien’s lap in the process. There, on the other side of the cage, perched on a tree branch, was a beautiful bird. It was huge, with iridescent feathers and woody eyes, and the air surrounding the bird seemed to thrum with energy and magic.

“Don’t worry, it’s only Vassa.” Lucien nodded at the firebird, “…she’ll get Jurian for us.”

Elain just nodded, aware that her cheeks were still most likely flushed. Unable to meet Lucien’s eye, Elain watched as the firebird took off into the golden, mid-morning sky, a disapproving screech tearing from its throat.

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien fluff #Elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain x lucien #elain/lucien #elain and lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #fffaf

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vanserraseris · 3 years

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END OF PART VII - I’m not going to lie, this chapter and the next one are probably a little more on the boring side. It’s just sort of Eris spending some time with Lucien. Shit’s gonna hit the fan soon, but Eris is just going to spend some time at the beach, for no reason really. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

no im SO excited for eris and lucien brotherly boring. BEACH EP BEACH EP BEACH EP BEACH EP

Prince of Ashes. Part VII.

masterlist.

“Give me your shirt.”

“I don’t obey the orders of anyone below my station,” Eris tilted his head back, his fingers digging into the sand of the beach. He was leaning on his forearms, his eyes shut, the afternoon sun warming his face. Eris liked making snobbish remarks like that around his friends just as much as they liked reminding him that his status as heir amounted to absolutely nothing in their presence.

Micah repeated himself, “Give me your shirt.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Eris undid the laces of his thin, light brown shirt, throwing it at his friend. “Shit, Micah, you should have asked sooner.” Micah’s nose and cheeks were a frightening red colour, the gold of his tattoos bright against the burned skin of his neck, all because he was too proud to admit that he burned when he stayed out in the sun for too long.

“I hate you all,” Micah declared, lifting Eris’s shirt and putting it over his head like a cloak, shielding himself from the rays of the sun.

Eris knew Lagos was pouting, mocking, “Poor little Micah, can’t stay out in the sun.”

“Poor little Micah is going to throw sand at you,” Micah muttered.

Widge smiled, lifting the brim of the sun hat he’d borrowed from his mother. While he looked ridiculous, Widge didn't seem to care. “Not all of us have exceptional magical abilities,” he huffed a laugh as Enya jumped up, licking at his face. Eris swore that hound loved Widge more than him. Lagos was sprawled on his back, pants thrown off to the side, using his own shirt as a pillow as he laid by Eris in his undershorts. He was faintly glowing.

Eris kept expecting Lucien to do the same thing, eyes following Lucien as he played near the water’s edge. Lucien hadn’t shown signs of any other Day Court magic since Lady Morai had suppressed it, but Eris still found himself worrying over it. Rufus was also by the water’s edge, boots off, pants rolled up, and shirt left unbuttoned as he watched over Lucien. Every so often, he would kick water at their youngest brother, laughing every time Lucien told him to stop.

“Your brother is perhaps an even greater menace than you were upon your arrival at my camp,” Micah declared. He awkwardly moved towards Eris, dragging his ass along the sand while still trying to keep the shirt over his head.

“He belongs in a circus,” Lagos added.

“I like having him there,” Widge managed to get out as Enya continued to lick his cheeks.

“He’s doing alright?” Their father had recently sent Rufus to one of Autumn’s largest war camps. It was located in the South, near the Spring Court border; Eris had been sent there at two decades old with nothing but a sword, brown leathers, and a title he was pretty sure he’d never be able to live up to. Eris was proud to admit that over two centuries later, he could claim being a half-decent commander of his father’s armies - not fantastic at combat, but damn-good at military strategy.

Eris had heard that Rufus, despite his more care-free attitude, was doing quite well, but it was always Eris’s first instinct to assume that Rufus was going to get himself killed or cause some sort of international catastrophe. Especially with political tensions in Prythian so high lately, Eris found that he’d become quite the mother hen, constantly asking his friends how Rufus was holding up. “He’s absolutely mad,” Micah laughed, “I could throttle him sometimes.”

“Cauldron, does he write his reports backwards?” Eris smiled just thinking about it, “Rufus used to do shit like that to his tutors, you can read them in front of a mirror.”

“He walks around the camp with a near-empty cognac bottle filled with apple juice, and makes bets on whether or not he can hit moving targets with his bow and arrows,” Lagos said. “He won 50 gold marks from me before I found out what he’d been doing.”

“Serves you right,” Eris grinned.

“He also tells us the most interesting things,” Micah hummed. He nudged at Eris with his knee. “Things that you neglect to mention.”

Lagos didn't sound too amused as he said, “Told us he was afraid for your life.”

Eris knew exactly what Rufus had told them. “If this is about Lizaveta—”

“Of course it’s about Lady Lizaveta,” Lagos leaned up on an elbow. “Your choice in lovers is abysmal, truly.”

“Don’t offend me,” Micah mumbled.

Lagos ignored him, “It’s like you dive headfirst into relationships that are bound to get you killed.” Eris sneered, mostly because Lagos was right. If his father ever learned of the countless male lovers Eris had been with over the centuries, Eris was almost certain that Beron would kill him. Or if he found out about the lesser faeries, or the females of common birth. Eris had been very good at ignoring his father’s rants about degeneracy when he’d been much younger.

But Lizaveta was a full-blooded noble, and Eris didn’t really see the problem. “How might this relationship kill me?”

“You’re sneaking around with a female who’s rumoured to have killed her own husband in his sleep less than a decade ago. Does that seem like a good idea?”

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Widge muttered absently, “Lots of lords in Autumn deserve it.” Everyone turned to face him, but he was looking off into the distance, no longer paying any attention to them.

Micah placed a gentle hand on Eris’s knee, “We’re just messing with you.” Eris knew they meant well, but his friends had a horrible habit of sticking their noses into Eris’s business, all hidden behind the guise that they “cared for his well-being,” as they so often reminded him.

“Just make sure you’re not her next victim,” Lagos added, “And do try and keep your father from finding out.”

Eris scowled, “Your faith in me is astounding.” He’d had centuries worth of practice in keeping his lovers a secret from the rest of his family and ensuring that rumours didn’t make their way to the always-listening ears of Autumn Court aristocrats. It was exhausting. He looked away from his friends to make sure Lucien and Rufus hadn’t drowned while he’d been distracted.

Lucien seemed to have convinced Rufus to play some sort of aggressive game with him, spinning Lucien around in his arms before throwing him deeper into the ocean. Lucien landed in the water with a big splash, Rufus roaring with laughter. Eris would have scolded them both had Lucien not jumped up from the water with a huge grin on his face, looking very foolish as he struggled to run at Rufus.

“Just be careful, we quite enjoy your company.” Micah squeezed his knee once before moving his hand, his fingers now dragging through the sand.

Eris finally looked away from his brothers after deciding that they would be fine, turning to face Micah again. “Let’s talk about what happened in Spring.”

“Yes, let’s talk about how we’re on the verge of another war, Eris would rather talk about our impending doom than his lover.” Eris glared at Lagos.

Micah scoffed, “There’s not going to be a fucking war, both of them are too young - untried. They aren’t going to do something so stupid.”

Eris considered this. Rhysand and Tamlin had just become new High Lords, perhaps they would start a war just to prove that they could. “If somebody killed my mother, I might start a war.”

“You might start a war just for fun.” Eris kicked sand at Lagos, a crooked smile on his face that was becoming more and more rare. Eris knew Lagos simply meant well.

Lagos returned the smile, dimples showing. Lagos was perhaps the only one of his friends that constantly bothered Eris for being a cruel prince of the Autumn Court.

“Cauldron, you wouldn’t do that either,” Micah seemed so sure. Eris sometimes wished he had that amount of confidence in his ability to make good choices.

Widge furrowed his brows, looking up from what he was in the process of writing in messy, scrawled script in the sand. “Wait, what happened in Spring?”

Somebody would explain it to him later, Eris thought. “I wonder if Rhysand will be a better High Lord than his father.” It was no secret that the Hewn City was more horrible than any part of Beron’s territory. Eris had despised the place since the first moment he’d stepped foot in it. He’d take his own two-faced city of Calchas over that wretched city any day.

“Probably not,” Micah adjusted the shirt over his head, “But at least he’s better looking.”

Eris would have to agree. With the dark hair and those star-lit, violet eyes, Rhysand was one of the better looking faeries Eris had ever seen. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, “I like his general better.”

Micah grinned, “What about the shadowsinger?” Eris grinned back, “Fancy the shadowsinger, do you?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Those people are from the Night Court.” Widge looked confused, much like he usually did.

“Very observant,” Lagos muttered.

“We’re talking about Tamlin and Rhysand,” Eris explained. “The new High Lords.”

“Heard about that,” Widge said with a nod. “Sounds like a mess.” With a shake of his head, almost like he was clearing his thoughts, Widge went back to whatever he was writing in the sand without so much as a second glance in their direction. Eris shifted slightly so that he could more clearly see what Widge was doing. He’d drawn three interconnected circles in the sand, numbers and formulas surrounding them.

Eris had always enjoyed watching Widge work, liked trying to figure out what he was doing, and he wasn’t paying attention to anything as he tried to understand where Widge was going with this. Definitely not smart on his part, he hadn’t been expecting so much water to crash onto his head, leaving him completely soaked. Widge yelped as some of the water fell on him as well.

“What the fuck,” Eris growled.

“My circles,” Widge whined, the water having ruined whatever he was writing. Eris hoped he remembered what it was, it had seemed interesting. He heard everyone’s laugh. From the deep rumble of Micah, to the obnoxious cackle of Lagos, to the loud howl of Rufus. It should have come as no shock that Rufus would try and pull a prank on Eris, no doubt with Lucien’s help. He was rather disappointed in himself for not keeping an eye on the two biggest troublemakers in all of Prythian.

Eris looked up at Rufus with a glare, he could see the steam in the air around him as he used some of his magic to dry off. “Honestly, Rufus,” Eris sneered, teeth bared.

“My mistake, didn’t see you sitting there.” He’d filled his fucking boot with water and thrown it at him.

Eris ran a hand through his still damp hair, “You’ve disappointed me.” Rufus just smiled, tugging once on Lucien’s braid.

“Lucien told me to do it,” Rufus was very good at playing the part of innocent victim. His auburn brows were raised, his russett eyes wide. “No I didn’t,” Lucien instantly stopped cackling, defending his honour. “Eris, he’s the disappointment, I’d never.”

“Little assholes,” Eris mumbled, shoving Lucien playfully. Lucien laughed again, dropping into the sand right beside him. Rufus sat by Lagos, winking at Eris before he sprawled on his back, Enya trotting over to lie down by his head.

Eris was glad for moments like this - when his father wasn’t in Autumn and he had the time to spend with the people he cared about. He knew it was a weakness, the fact that he cared about them, but he'd missed them all. Rufus was stuck at the war camp with his friends, Lucien was stuck in the Forest House, and Eris was stuck in his territory far away from them both.

Eris had been staying away from Lucien anyway, visiting less and less. It’d been months since he’d last seen the little runt, but Eris knew it was for the best.

“This was really nice, Eris,” Lucien said with a small smile, his face turned towards the sun. He looked happy.

Eris nodded once, closing his eyes and turning his own face towards the sun, “I thought it was really nice, too.”

Perhaps it was very foolish of Eris to be spending his valuable time frolicking on beaches, but all he wanted to do right now was pretend everything would be alright. Pushing all his worries aside, the sound of waves crashing along the shore, his toes curling into the white sand of the beach, Eris could almost forget he was the heir of the Autumn Court.

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

Text

Red Queen snippet

Nesta Archeron did not like the Court of Night. She had lived three hundred years shattered, a ghost, and her greatest untapped rage remained fury on her husband’s behalf. Cassian, her true loyal heart as dawn, who’d crashed into her life with lost hazel eyes and enough honor renew the world. Kindness he’d never needed to be taught, held onto in secret, used in the shadows to protect his fellows. She’d died before she could crown him king, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again. There was war, there was running through the raging fire and ruin of her once green and loving nation- and there was this: that her Cassian had grown up ashamed and afraid of everything from the color of his skin to the song of his power. He was a fearless man, so brave it broke her heart, but there was a part of him that was always ready and braced for loss. There would be no more loss. Nesta had seen it in death. Her youngest sister, handfast to Cassian’s second, Illyrian braids woven in her thick hair. Veren, teaching Elain’s youngest how to fight in a peaceful land. Her husband’s dearest brother, turning those clever black eyes blind, and never uttering a single word, as Cassian alone moved out of the dark. Stepped straight into the harsh light of mountain sun, for his people.

#Nesta after three hundred years: what #what do you mean all the songs are about ME?#AND NOT YOU?#Nesta has less than zero tolerance for bullshit #no time for stupid prythian politics #she's immortal and she's still not wasting breath on high lords #surprise! Feyre's wife we'll see more of #Veren is the Erebus of this story and I love her #yes of course Nesta likes Az #Az has all the braincells for the night court trio #(az rhys mor)#AND ACTUALLY HAS CASSIAN'S BACK #this story really is just:#wow wow cassian's disaster loyalty #and then you get to Nesta and it's like #oh #OH THEY ARE THE SAME THAT MAKES IT EVEN SADDER #Nesta meets Rhys for two minutes: I Do Not Care for This #Cassian shaking vibing: he's just like that you don't have to see him for three hundred years LETS GO HOME

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houseofhurricane · 3 years

Text

ACOTAR Fic: the pilgrim soul in you (1/1) | Lucien x Vassa

Summary: A missing-moments Vassien fic covering ACOWAR, ACOFAS, and ACOSF, in which, after a while, Lucien and Vassa fall in love.

A/N: I teased this for a while, and it's finally here. Additional notes and tag list at the end. I hope you enjoy 🧡

Who then devised the torment? Love. Love is the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The intolerable shirt of flame Which human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire.

-- T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding

The best story: that Lucien first sees Vassa at the lake, swooping over the water. That he’s entranced by her at this first glance, dazzled by the bird of fire, that he can sense the woman within nearly bursting to get free. Even in the form she was cursed with, Lucien might say, something about Vassa beckoned him from the first glance.

But Vassa would never let Lucien tell this story, because it is untrue. They first meet as the evening darkens, when Lucien has found the fire made by the Prince of Merchants. Before he spots the father of the Archeron sisters, he sees the strands of Vassa’s hair glowing red and golden in the firelight, generously curled and falling to the middle of her back. Then there’s the blue of her eyes, as bright and dangerous as the center of a flame. Her golden-brown skin, a shade or two darker than his own, luminous in the combined light of the fire and the stars, so that he can’t help but imagine how it would feel under his fingers.

His breath catches in his throat at what wells up in him, a feeling that is bright and dangerous.

Of course, she spots him seconds later, and then there’s a dagger at his neck, and Lucien is mercifully distracted. Vassa might be a young queen, but she’s clearly had experience with would-be assassins.

“I was sent by friends at the Night Court to try and break your enchantment,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm, but not so calm that she’s suspicious.

“I didn’t need faeries to set me free.” Her voice is lower than he’d expect, a rich alto, the words lilting with a musical accent. She does not growl the words, only tucks his hair behind his ears with her free hand, revealing the delicate arches, a gesture that lays him bare. But he does not think about his vulnerability. To do so would only increase the possibility of pain. Instead, he thinks that he’s surprised to feel callouses on her fingertips, decides to ask what would roughen a queen’s fingers at the nearest opportunity. Even then, he’s planning for a long string of moments with Vassa. “You aren’t the only beings who care about the saving of this world.”

At this point, Gabriel Archeron steps into the circle of light, and the resemblance to Feyre and Elain and Nesta is strong enough that Lucien blurts out their names, claiming he has news, and eventually the knife is removed from his neck.

Lucien makes himself a mix of charming and sorrowful as he tells the Prince of Merchants all that has happened to his daughters, trying to find a sufficient level of honesty that will not provoke unpleasant revelations later, while still convincing them to let him travel in their group. When he has finished and Gabriel has blinked away tears, which Lucien pretends not to see, he turns to Vassa.

“I was sent to make an entreaty to you,” he says. “My land will soon be at war, and the situation is grave. Hybern has been massing its armies for decades, and their spells are as formidable as the magic that binds this world together.”

“If your faerie armies can hardly withstand this onslaught,” she asks, in that thrilling tone that seems to emerge from deeper within her body than ordinary speech, the perfect ideal of a queen’s voice, “why do you expect that my human armies should go willingly to their own slaughter?”

“In my country, the High Lords and generals do not lead from the back of their armies. They fight on the front lines.”

“They have their own power to shield them.”

“Your armies would not battle on the front lines, majesty.”

She smirks at him, her teeth little moons in the firelight. “You sound quite naive when you speak on the workings of battle, emissary. You’re lucky that I have already promised my armies to your friends’ father. We ride to meet them at the coast.”

Lucien shoots a glare at Gabriel, who is smiling at the glow of the dimming fire.

“Queen Vassa flies by day, of course,” he says, the dry humor in his voice so perfectly balanced with graciousness that Lucien understands the reasons for his reputation. “Her wings are swift.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucien sees Vassa’s shoulders stiffen ever so slightly. Surely as a queen she is used to adulation.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to keep the enchantment?” Lucien asks the queen, as he turns back to the fire, trying to rile her a little further. Let her know what sort of journey this will be.

The change in Vassa, though, is apparent even to his half-gaze. The sudden tension in her muscles, a readiness that isn’t training but sheer terror. Her golden-brown face, a shade or two darker than his own, goes pale.

“You said your people could free me,” she says, and though she tries to make her voice commanding, Lucien has politicked in every court in Prythian and cannot miss the terror laced into every word.

Against all his better instincts, he tells her: “We’ll free you.”

She turns his head so he can’t see it, but still Lucien can vividly imagine her smile, brilliant and sparkling in the night.

At first, Vassa thinks she will hate Lucien, the way he smirks and teases and generally makes it clear to everyone that he’s full of the arrogance of the High Fae. Then she realizes that, as much as she hates to admit it, Lucien is the most intelligent creature she’s ever met. His mind simply spins faster than any of her court advisors. He sees a thousand possible futures so clearly that her astrologers, famed on the continent for the accuracy of their predictions, would gnash their teeth in jealousy at his seeming clairvoyance.

It’s when Vassa begins considering his gaze with respect instead of annoyance that she knows her feelings have well and truly changed. Because Lucien’s gaze is unnerving in its omniscience: his russet eye sees everything visible, and his gold eye seems to pierce into an unseen world.

Sometimes, in the little sleep she snatches every night, Vassa dreams that Lucien Vanserra, emissary of the High Fae, can see straight into her heart. And though she begins these dreams afraid of what he’ll see, her weakness and fear and failure, at some point his lips quirk into the smallest smile, and Vassa wakes up feeling rested for the first time in months.

By day, it’s all Vassa can do to force the firebird to follow Lucien and Gabriel on the journey toward the coast and her army. The firebird’s mind is so different from her own, easily distracted and unable to parse experience into human comprehension. But the firebird’s eyes turn the world into a jewel box, and the firebird spends too much time staring at the glint of Lucien’s hair in the sunlight, sparkling every shade of red and orange and gold.

In the evenings, by the fire, Lucien’s gaze is not so piercing as it is in her dreams, and though she can admit to his masculine beauty, to her human eyes it is not as overwhelming as what the firebird sees by day.

By the fire, he makes sarcastic remarks that punctuate Gabriel’s stories, insisting that his daughter Feyre is even more brave and kind and stupid than her father lets on, that Nesta is a holy terror. Lucien does not say anything when Gabriel mentions the other daughter, Elain, only clutches his cup or fork a little tighter, makes his breathing too steady.

At a thousand endless state dinners, Vassa has learned to observe the tells of royals and ambassadors. She’s barely had a chance to use this skill outside of card games with her ladies-in-waiting, but now she’s sure that Lucien has met and desired this Elain.

It’s better this way, she tells herself. They are wartime allies. He will likely end up married to Elain Archeron and Vassa will get her curse broken by someone among the High Fae and she’ll reclaim Scythia and her rightful throne. Eventually, she’ll find a politically advantageous consort. Perhaps, once her rule is secure, she will take a lover.

Still, as they draw near to the coast, she finds herself laughing at Lucien’s remarks. He ducks his head towards her in little asides, explaining Prythian politics or making jokes so dry that her laughter nearly startles her. She realizes that, as much as she will always love Gabriel Archeron for finding her, for leading her away from Koschei, her eyes will always go first to Lucien.

Vassa tries not to think about what it means. A young queen cannot afford an ill-considered love affair. Still, when Lucien’s eyes, russet and gold, land on hers, she cannot force herself to look away.

For their first three days at sea, Lucien worries that Vassa will fall into the ocean when she transforms from firebird to woman. The minute the sun begins to kiss the horizon, he watches her flame-bright wings and braces himself to winnow if she cannot position herself safely over the boat.

Always, Vassa manages to land safely on the deck, and Lucien swallows his anxiety. In spite of all his good intentions, the fact that she’s surrounded by the Scythian generals who adore her, Lucien can’t help seeking her gaze, can’t help scanning the length of her body for any hint of harm. All he finds is Koschei’s curse wrapped tight around her, and then Vassa’s sapphire gaze on him, the flash of her bright smile.

He thinks of Elain and he does not think of Elain. Elain, the mate who does not want him.

One day soon, before they’re reunited, Lucien will have to tell Gabriel that his middle daughter is mated to the male he’s crossed the continent with. But instead he listens to the stories the Prince of Merchants weaves about his adventures, basks in the glow of his regard. Gabriel Archeron was born when Lucien was already centuries old and tired of this world, and still Lucien catches himself basking in his fatherly countenance.

He thinks, maybe even a miserable life with Elain would be better if he had such a father-in-law.

Then Vassa catches his eye, ducks her chin to whisper that Gabriel is certainly exaggerating, she’s been to the town he speaks of and the river is not nearly as terrifying as he’s making it out to be. In fact, she says, her voice low and lilting in his ear, she and her ladies-in-waiting crossed it with skirts in hand. Then, her whisper going so soft it’s barely audible, she makes a vulgar speculation about Gabriel’s virility, the kind of phrase that would make her generals shout with laughter.

Lucien can almost feel her full, soft lips against his ear, so that he has to force himself to let out a quiet laugh. The skin of his body feels too tight. His blood thrums inside him. Somehow he makes himself turn back to the meal, laugh again when she repeats her aside to Gabriel, now at full volume, her speculation now even more elaborate and ribald. As Lucien predicted, the generals roar their approval at their queen, and Gabriel flashes her an approving smile.

For just a second, Lucien finds himself wishing that Vassa had told him a different story, which would belong only two of the two of them, not a mere rehearsal of what she’d say to everyone dining with them. He pushes the thought away quickly, focuses on the plate in front of him, lifting the spoon to his lips.

Later, when Gabriel and the generals have retreated to their rooms, Lucien finds Vassa on deck, her head thrown back as she stares at the stars.

He should go to his room, cramped and dank as it is, but instead he stays watching Vassa. Despite the dark, he can see her bright eyes considering each constellation. He can hear the beat of her heart, louder than the waves.

He considers approaching her, asking her what she sees in the stars, if it’s beauty or some vision of the future that draws her. But Lucien is a mated male now, and although he’s sure the conversation would be innocent, increasingly, closer proximity to Vassa feels like a betrayal.

Finally, he forces himself to turn away, to walk to his room and bolt the door.

Elain could take a hundred years to want him. It doesn’t mean he can be in bed with another female (another woman) for that century of purgatory.

Still, maybe it’s the distance from Elain, maybe the sea itself has bewitched him, but even as he falls into sleep, he can’t stop seeing Vassa, luminous and sarcastic and brilliant, behind his eyelids. Imagining how she might feel if she were tangled up in this narrow bed with him.

They arrive in Prythian just in time, Vassa realizes later, once the sun has dipped below the horizon and she’s human again. She can only vaguely recall the sound of screaming, the iron scent of blood, the feeling of flesh under her talons. She had not known the firebird could attack.

Gabriel died at the hands of the King of Hybern, her generals tell her, and though she still walks through the ranks of her soldiers as she’d planned, she hardly registers the faces of the men and women who have guarded this world. She does not remember what she says to the wounded or to those who came out unscatched.

Afterwards, her hands are covered in blood.

She finds herself walking in the forest, not caring if she could be attacked. Surely any monsters have enough sense to fear the magic she witnessed on the battlefield.

Still, she startles when she hears the footsteps behind her. She whips around and there is Lucien, scratched but whole, golden even in the night, no matter the dark leather armor that covers his body like scales.

“You’re all right,” Lucien says, the relief in his voice so deep it’s practically a sob.

Vassa forgets all her reasons for keeping her distance as she launches herself into his arms, presses herself so tight against him that she can smell his citrus and sandalwood scent, hear the beating of his heart. So that the armor he wears digs into her cheek, her ear.

“There’s blood on your hands,” he says, reaching for her fingers, running his thumb over each digit. She tries not to shiver at the contact.

“I needed to visit the wounded. It’s a custom among Scythian queens, to thank their warriors personally. To grieve with them. But I have no idea what I told them. My people have not been at war since well before my reign.” Still, she was trained for this moment. She should have known.

He releases her fingers, his hands working up her arms, until he’s pulling her against him, his cheek resting on her head, the place where her crown belongs.

“No wonder your people love you,” he says.

A dozen sarcastic comments rise in her mind, but they are all wrong for this moment, when all she wants is to stay this close to him, held so tight that death and despair cannot come between them.

Eventually he says, “Your people will think that you were kidnapped by faeries.”

“If only they knew,” she tells him. “Do you think that I could speak with Feyre Cursebreaker tonight?”

Instantly he looks guarded, and then she remembers Elain, the faerie female who Lucien loves. She pulls herself away from him, just enough that she could step away if anybody found them in the woods.

“I think Feyre has been asleep for hours. Nobody is awake but the wounded and the healers and the guards.”

“Which one are you, then?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he says, and when he smirks at her, that flash of the teeth that mark him as High Fae, a thrill runs through her entire body.

Elain, she thinks, then says primly, “It is a queen’s prerogative to be wherever she likes, is it not?”

“There have been no queens in Prythian for thousands of years.” His hands are still on her back. His fingers are tangled in her hair, and if he wanted, Lucien could tug it, angle her mouth so as to be easily kissed. Instead he looks at her as if it’s the last time he’ll ever see her face. Maybe it is.

“You are quite a new thing, Vassa,” he says, after a moment or an eternity. She’s not sure.

It would be so easy to kiss him, she thinks, and Lucien is clearly honorable, more than even he realizes. He would never harm her, never leave her to be ashamed. If he accepted her kiss, surely something wonderful would begin between them.

But then she thinks of Gabriel Archeron, his warm gaze like a benediction on her, the kindness and bravery he showed when he rescued her from Koschei. The way he spoke of his daughter, Elain, the love that filled his voice when he spoke of her, the daughter he would never see again.

She finds that although it is easy to imagine kissing Lucien, his lips on hers, the opening of their mouths and her fingers searching for a gap in his armor, she cannot ask her body to make any of the required motions. Once, not so very long ago, she was well-schooled in honor.

“We should go back to camp. I’m tired.” It is the first lie that Vassa has ever told to Lucien. It will not be the last.

At political functions, much is made of conversations, tone and gesture. Even a too-long look can be made fodder for months of court gossip.

Even knowing this, even knowing he needs to make inroads with Tamlin, that at minimum all his emissary posts require him to converse with the members of the assembled courts, knowing the Night Court watches him, wondering when he will finally try and speak with Elain, Lucien cannot stop looking at Vassa.

Someone has provided her with a dress of sapphire silk and a diadem of gold and sapphire, has brushed her hair until it is practically a living flame falling riotous down her back. He has never seen anyone more radiant. No matter the ruined estate, the tense conversations, even if the whole world goes to hell in this meeting, it will have been worth it to see Vassa every inch a queen in this moment.

When he spots her talking with Jurian, Lucien can hardly contain his fury. He does not trust the man, no matter that he saved Feyre. Sometimes he barely trusts Feyre.

And when Jurian bends to press a kiss to the back of Vassa’s hand, Lucien has to acknowledge the feeling that’s hot inside him: jealousy.

It’s wrong, he knows, when his whole body shouts whenever Elain is near, his heart practically thumping out her name. Far from her, he was able to forget the effects of the mating bond, only the coldness inside him whenever she would not meet his eye.

Still, no matter how close Elain lets him get, he has never felt himself alight the way he did last night, when Vassa stood in his arms and let him pull her close. He has never scanned the horizon with worry that she will fall into the sea, never laughed at a single thing she’s said.

So although Lucien forces himself to let the conversation between Vassa and Jurian play out, tells himself over and over he might be good for her as if repetition will make him believe the sentiment, the moment Jurian steps away, Lucien strides directly to her side.

“I spoke with Feyre,” Vassa says, by way of hello. “She does not know how to break my curse.”

“Feyre has barely learned her powers.”

“Oh? Are you saying you can do better, One True Faerie?” She swats at him, fingers barely grazing his jacket. Still, he warms at the contact.

Smiling in spite of himself, he taps his temple, indicating his golden eye, the scars surrounding it. “I’ve been told I can see what others can’t, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t tell me that line has worked on a single woman.”

“Lucky for me that the females of my species are much more credulous than human queens.” He allows himself to bask in Vassa’s laughter, too loud to be dignified. “But now that we are in Prythian, there are others with the necessary skills. There are whole libraries that might be of assistance.”

He thinks, but does not speak of Helion as he summons his powers and takes another look at the curse, which is fashioned like a harness on her shoulders, crossing her clavicle and looping around her shoulderblades, Vassa’s heart surrounded by the trip of Koschei’s magic. The magical signature is foreign to him, a long and complicated sentence in a language not spoken in a thousand lifetimes.

“Jurian said there was a place for me in the human realms, if I wanted to take it,” she is saying, snapping him back to the present, the physics of the known world. “Do you think those faerie experts will remember me across the wall?”

“There is no wall anymore,” he says, rewards her with a low laugh when she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re full of fairytales today, but I suppose that’s appropriate,” she shoots back.

“They won’t forget about you because I will constantly be reminding them that the human queen who saved their sorry selves is still bound by an enchantment.”

“For a moment I forgot how self-important you were.” In spite of her words, Vassa’s smile is sweet and hopeful, the kind of expression only humans wear. In all his long and miserable life, Lucien has never seen such a lovely smile. He hates himself for thinking it but cannot bring himself to turn away from her the way he should.

“There’s more I can do,” he says, breathing deep, letting the imminent mistake wash over him, like dangling his foot off a cliff. “I could stay with you and Jurian, if you wanted. If I wouldn’t be interrupting the two of you.”

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it, a squeal muffled between bitten lips.

“Jurian is a terrific ass and you’ll have to keep me from slicing him to ribbons.”

He’s so dazzled by the feeling of her fingers on his that he doesn’t even bother to look and see if anyone’s watching. For the first time he can remember, every thought leaves his mind.

Jurian would be the perfect man to marry, Vassa realizes within the first three days of their living together. An ancient warrior would not be a strange consort to a firebird queen. True, their arguments shake the walls, and his ideas are old-fashioned to an idiotic extent, and of course there’s the fact that Vassa cannot imagine herself ever falling in love with him. Still, he would be the right choice.

Far better, to be certain, than Greyson, Lord Nolan’s son, who at Vassa’s arrival is paraded with the pomp that would befit a king, not a minor aristocrat. She can tell that there was a sweetness to him once, but that it’s curdled, and what’s left to the boy seems now beneath her regard. She does not know how Elain Archeron once loved him. This fact alone makes her think less of the girl.

Then again, Vassa knows that she is inclined to judge Elain more harshly than she deserves. She tells herself that this is because of the dejected expression on Lucien’s face when he first returned from Velaris after the war, the way he goes quiet when she’s mentioned.

But in her secret heart, when she’s the only one awake in the Nolan manor, Vassa can admit that she’s jealous of Elain Archeron. She hates this emotion. It is not fair, it is not honorable, and yet Vassa feels jealousy wrapping its tendrils around her.

So when Lucien appears in the manor in between visits to the courts of Prythian, she is cordial. She is friendly. Sometimes she even allows her smile to break free, but only if he is telling her about progress towards the breaking of her curse. Only if the implication is that she could be free, and therefore far away from him.

More and more when she’s around him, Vassa feels as if her human self has merged with the firebird: unable to speak freely, bound by invisible chains.

If her arguments with Jurian grow a bit sharper and she smiles more wickedly when she bests him, well, between the curse that makes her a firebird and the heart that longs so furiously for what it cannot have, she cannot possibly be expected to have perfect forbearance.

Finally, there is an evening where Jurian goes to bed early and it’s only Lucien and Vassa in Nolan’s shockingly ample library, the last of the wine between them. Vassa’s cheeks are flushed from another argument with Jurian. Lucien had tried to read through it, but the history he’d selected was inaccurate and every time he looked up, Vassa and Jurian seemed to be grinning in spite of the heat and clamor of their words. They argue like lovers now, he kept thinking, the words spinning before him, turning nonsensical.

“Do you still think that Jurian is a terrific ass?” he asks, before he can stop himself, the wine stretching his words into a drawl. As if the question is unimportant. As if it is not dangerous.

“He’s exactly the kind of man my advisors would tell me to marry. Even my mother would have approved.” Her fingers, on the glass, have gone yellow-white from the strength of her grip. He cannot tell what she’s nervous about.

“I suppose he is miraculous, in his own way. As long as you enjoy going to battle every night.” A hint of the old smirk. Maybe it will unsettle her into revealing the truth.

For a few seconds, the room is still, so quiet he can hear the quickening thump of Vassa’s heartbeat. Weeks or months ago, maybe, Lucien would have been smug over his ability to rile her. Now he only waits to see what she will say.

“At least he’s not in love with someone else.” Vassa does not look at him, and for the first time since he’s known her, her blue eyes do not sparkle.

“I’m not--that is--” Already he has revealed too much. He can feel the heat of her gaze on him and now it’s he who cannot meet her eyes.

“I know about Elain. And I cannot...her father rescued me from Koschei. I will not dishonor his memory by stealing you away from her. No matter what I want.”

He thinks about saying, you have a high opinion of yourself, Queen of Scythia, the kind of thing he’d usually say to her, which would rob the moment of its tension, send them off to their separate beds. Likely, the usual jibe would set everything right. But Lucien has tried to play the dutiful suitor to his mate, has found her thoughtful gifts and has waited until her (their) heart warms, and still she cannot wait until he leaves her behind. Still his thoughts stray to Vassa. And the very thought of her with Jurian is worse than the guilt of leaving his mate for another. Let Elain take a thousand years to come around to the idea of him, let her break the mating bond itself, Lucien thinks, gulping down the last of his wine. She is not the problem. Probably she never was.

“I’m not in love with her,” he says, finally, the words like tumbling off a cliff. “She’s my mate. Chosen for me by the Cauldron. And if I could choose, Queen of Scythia, believe me that I would choose a woman who can win any argument, whose beauty is only eclipsed by her fierce intelligence, and who still has not told me how her hands, the hands of a queen, came to be so calloused.”

“In Scythia, women can be warriors. I’ve trained with a sword since I was seven.” The words are hardly a breath.

He rises from his chair. The book falls from his lap, lands on the carpet with a muffled thump, but he does not turn. He only looks at Vassa’s eyes, the blue deep and sparkling as the middle of the ocean, lit by the noonday sun. Vast and lovely and alive.

He waits for her to look away, but instead she stands up so that she’s right in front of him, the silk of her dress sighing against the toes of hits boots. He always forgets, until they stand close, that she’s nearly as tall as he is. How hard it has been to keep from kissing her, when her lips, the color of ripe berries, have been right in front of him for all these months.

Now, finally, his mouth is on hers, hot and sweet, her lips opening to his tongue, a groan escaping him because Vassa, lithe and lovely, is in his arms, so quick and urgent that he can’t remember whether he reached for her or if she embraced him first. Her calloused fingertips are on his wrists, his neck, working the buttons of his jacket until it falls to the ground.

“I do not want to ruin you,” he says, too far gone with need to blunt the words, trying not to think about the way his cock strains at the seams of his pants. Only the woman in his arms, flushed and disheveled and smiling as she rolls her eyes at him.

“I am the Queen of Scythia by birth and by my own desire. I cannot be ruined by anyone.”

He wants to believe her, and so he kisses her, stops only long enough to undo each button that fastens her gown, take a long look at her lean body, her small breasts that fit so perfectly in his palm, her muscles visible with each movement. Her golden brown skin is scattered with freckles, and he presses a kiss to each one until she tugs at his hair, hissing her frustration.

Between her legs, she’s molten velvet. He strokes her until her little sighs become moans, until her fingers scrabble to reach him, pull him even closer.

“Get inside me, Vanserra.” He nearly laughs at her approximation of a fierce growl, unraveled by the keening sound of desire, a mirror of his own. Still he holds himself apart from her, quirks a brow.

“Need I remind you how bastards are made, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve heard the tales about your contraceptive potions. If you want me tonight, stop stalling.” She crosses her arms over her breasts, and Lucien dearly wants to kiss the smug look off her face.

“I’m glad you’ve been studying our customs,” he says instead, pulling her down to the thick rug that covers the library floor.

At first, he tries to be gentle, but she pulls him closer, her eyes set on his, so that when he enters her with that first desperate stroke, he can see the moment of pain. He cups his hand around her chin, kisses her as he moves in and out, until she begins to pant against his mouth, saying please and yes until she goes stiff and ecstatic, and he follows her, need giving way to a roaring pleasure.

Later, she’s curled up next to him, weaving braids into his hair, and she says, “I know this is only for a little while.”

Before she can continue, Lucien scoops her up so that her body covers his, until he can’t see anything but Vassa’s face, the pensive look she can nearly hide behind her drooping eyelids, a languid smile.

“This is for as long as you’ll have me,” he says, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You are the one I choose, Vassa.”

They do not sleep for a moment of the night, and when she goes to meet the dawn, to become the firebird, Lucien holds tight to her hand.

In her dream, Vassa has fallen into the ocean and she cannot breathe. She tries to inhale the ocean water, she’s become that desperate, but her throat is closed, as if her drowning body has been filled with stones.

When she opens her eyes, the ocean is gone but she cannot breathe, and Lucien works frantically over her body, his eyes moving in every direction, his fingers moving through the air as if guiding a miniscule orchestra.

There’s a burning, raging and deep, where Koschei’s spell binds her. She feels the burning in her blood, as if the nature of her curse has changed and now she will remain a human queen, with the firebird doing battle inside her.

And the world is full of air she cannot breathe.

She thinks, looking up at Lucien, his face now revealing a bit more terror but his hands as sure as ever, that this was always going to be the way that she died: curled up in her bed, looking up at Lucien. Only, she’d always thought that she would be old and wheezing, perhaps a little bored of even their great love, ready for a new adventure.

Now all she can think is that she should have kissed him the first day they met. That she’ll die so far away from Scythia. That she’d never thought her lungs, deprived of air, could burn quite like this, as if she’d inhaled fire instead of air.

She reaches for Lucien just as whatever binds her falls away, and despite the relief that overwhelms her, the air that floods her, Vassa realizes with horror that it was her own hair that coiled around her neck, long and thick enough to form a rope.

“It took so long to find the right unbinding spell,” Lucien says, holding her hand tight in his own. His voice is small, the voice of a lost child. “I thought--”

“I need you to cut my hair short,” Vassa says, her voice rough. Each word burns her throat. “Or Koschei will kill me with it eventually.”

There are others who want to kill her, of course. There are always rivals and assassins and foreign rulers who worry that she will conquer the world with her will alone. But no one other than Koschei could activate the curse, could transform her blood into fire. The rope of hair was only the visible manifestation of his powers.

“I know the unbinding spell now.” He dips to kiss her cheek, her temple, and she’s grateful he knows that he cannot kiss her mouth, rest his body on hers, nothing that impedes her breathing. “I can keep you safe.”

“One day you will have court business that keeps you away overnight.”

“And what if Koschei uses a blanket?” His voice is rough over the question and she realizes that he’s imagining the scene.

“If you’re away, I will sleep on an empty bed and Jurian will watch over me all night long. Now go fetch your sword,” she says, trying to make her voice sound imperious, to make him sarcastic and smirking again, her own Lucien.

One flash and the mass of her hair falls to the floor. What remains hovers an inch over her shoulders, revealing her freckled clavicles, the half-wings of her shoulderblades.

“You are lovely,” Lucien says, laying the sword on the ground.

Normally she would take advantage of his position, guide his mouth to all the places that make her go wordless, but now she only catches his gaze, lets him see the fear on her face. It’s one of the expressions she never lets anybody see.

“This curse will kill me soon,” she tells him.

“I will go to every court in Prythian until we figure out how to unbind you from the death-lord. I swear it to you.”

“Every court in Prythian has forgotten me. And why should they remember? In their eyes, my life will go past in a blink.”

“I will never let them forget you,” he says, smoothing her newly shorn hair away from her face, pulling her close beside him, so that she can hear each breath and thump of his heart. “I will make sure that you are free.”

She does not tell him that it’s no longer freedom she craves, exactly. That she wants to be bound to him the way she is bound to her country, to her people, tied by blood and right and strength of will.

Instead she presses her mouth to his and allows herself to forget, just for a second, how to breathe.

Because humans do not celebrate the old Fae holidays, Vassa did not mind his spending the Solstice at the Night Court, but in spite of this, Lucien spent each minute calculating the earliest moment he could return to her.

She’s still awake, curled up on a sofa in the library, when he returns from Feyre and Rhysand’s estate, bearing a piece of cake he’d secreted away in a heavy cloth napkin.

“I didn’t think you would return before tomorrow,” she says, looking up from her book of history, thick with politics and deception and warring.

Always, he is surprised by the bright blue of her eyes, even in candlelight. Always, he knows, deep in his bones, this woman will enchant him.

“I wouldn’t miss a single night with you if it could be helped. And I have not given you your Solstice gift.”

“I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts,” she says, her mouth puckering into a frown.

“You should know better than to always take me at my word,” he says, raising a brow, watching the indignation rise on her face. He lets the napkin fall into her lap, and then a smaller package, which he’d wrapped carefully this morning, while she wheeled over the manor grounds, wings aflame.

She lets out a little gasp at the sapphire earrings which will turn each ear into a lattice of sparkling flowers, bright against the red-gold curls of her hair. He’d contracted a master jeweler months ago, measured Vassa’s ears when she lay sleeping, so that the fit is exact. It’s the kind of jewelry a queen would wear, he thought, when he gave the earrings their final inspection.

One day soon, Lucien knows, Vassa will be free of the curse that binds her. She’ll go back to Scythia and reclaim her rightful throne, earn and accept and enjoy the love of her people.

“I will follow you, ” he says, watching her smile grow as she studies each flawless sapphire, not a single one as brilliant as her eyes, “when you go back to Scythia.”

“You do not have to lie to me,” she says, and her voice catches in her throat with an emotion too complex to name. “These earrings are enough.”

“I will follow you,” he says again, and kisses her before she can argue, pulls her close.

In the morning, he wakes before the sunrise, walks hand in hand with her through the forest, the silence between them comfortable as their bodies move themselves from sleep.

The moment before the sun passes the horizon, Vassa lets go of Lucien’s hand, and turns toward him. An instant later, the firebird circles near his head, swooping around the trees. Lucien almost thinks there is a spark of recognition in those blue eyes, as if he’s managed to lodge inside that animal brain, wedge himself inside the curse, the first step to destroying it all together.

When the wing of the firebird passes over him, he is startled to realize he feels no pain at the heat of the flame.

“You’ve realized, of course, that I love you,” he says, feeling foolish at speaking into the snow-muffled silence, knowing that the animal before him cannot speak, likely does not understand.

But the firebird extends her wings and, with a great cry, shoots up into the air, keening over the forest, her own sun, before returning to the place where Lucien stands, beholding her glory.

For the rest of the day, she will not leave his side.

A/N 2: I've been a Vassien shipper ever since I watched Lucien light up while talking to Vassa in ACOWAR, and I love how this ship has everything: intelligence, beauty, mutual snark, and no problem standing up to the Night Court. Though I have no idea if this ship will sail in the next ACOTAR books, I can't help but root for these truly immaculate vibes.

Tag List: @vassiensupremacy @vassienweek @lucienvassa @lantsov-vanserra @bookstaninthesoul @fireborne6 @flowerbirdsblog (I tagged you if you previously reblogged my preview of this fic -- please let me know if you'd like to stay on or be removed from my Vassien tag list.)

#vassien #vassien is goals #band of exiles #lucien vanserra #queen vassa #missing moments #mutual snark #mutual pining

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highfaelucien · 3 years

Note

Heyy

90. Dance for Rhycien?

Please send me whump Prompts

(Heck yes, it's time for The Gay. Have some Under the Mountain Angst. Slight warning for mind control/influence (Rhys to Lucien) It's short-lived, demanded by Amarantha, and doesn't last long)

Old Time's Sake

"Ah, Lucien, nice of you to finally join us," Amarantha drawled from her place upon the carved throne, sitting above the writhing fae bodies, watching with that grim pleasure Rhys had come to loathe so intensely.

Turning, he spotted Lucien, long red hair gleaming in the dancing faelight, barely concealed loathing etched in every line of his angular face.

The exiled Autumn prince hadn't been seen for several days now. Not since the brutal whipping at Tamlin's hand that had left him unconscious and, if rumours were to be believed, near death.

From the look of spite in Lucien's remaining eye, it seemed he had spat in death's face for the simple pleasure of being able to glare at Amarantha once more.

"You're looking a little grim there, princeling," Amarantha crooned, "Why don't you join your little human friend? Dance with her."

She gestured towards Feyre, who had drunk the wine Rhys had provided her and accompanied him to the dance as he did each night. Her body moved with surprising grace, considering she was human.

A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw as he watched Feyre. He turned that simmering hatred on Rhys instead, fire blazing in that russet eye. Rhys just smirked at him and winked. Lucien's hands balled themselves into fists at his sides.

It was clearly an effort for him to project even a facade of civility as he turned his gaze back to Amarantha and said, "I fear my skills are not equal to those already here. I wouldn't like to offend you with my display, lady."

Amarantha tapped one sharpened nail on the arm of her throne. Few caught the suppressed flinch in Lucien's body at the sight of it, but Rhys saw, and looked away, disgusted.

"You will offend me deeply if you refuse me again, Lucien," she said, voice soft and dangerous now.

"I'm sure we both know how much I'd hate to do that," Lucien growled, and Rhys found himself closing his eyes.

Lucien never had learned to keep his mouth shut. There seemed to be some self-destructive part of him that enjoyed snapping at those who could snap him in half with a wink.

Silence enveloped the hall for a few, pounding heartbeats. Then Amarantha turned her head sharply, all the false air of a pleasant queen amongst her court banished.

"Rhysand," she said, darkly, "Make him dance for me."

"It would of course be my pleasure," Rhys said smoothly, nudging Feyre to one side and rising from the plump cushions he'd been reclining on, keeping an eye on her as she reveled blindly.

Lucien turned to him, his jaw set, his eyes hard. There was no fear in those eyes. Many here underestimated Lucien, as he didn't possess the same power as his father or brothers. Rhys thought they were fools. It took an extraordinary level of strength and courage to face him that way. Not to mention his return here in the first place.

"Little Lucien," he clucked, aloud, shaking his head, "You know it's not polite to refuse a lady."

Inside his head, he murmured, I'm sorry.

Lucien's eyes flashed, almost giving him away with his moment of confusion. Then Rhys swept away his will, and forced him to perform for Amarantha. Just as he was forced to perform for her.

At once, Lucien's face contorted with pain. He shouldn't have come here tonight. Tamlin had no doubt ordered him, the cowardly bastard, unwilling to come himself to see Feyre. Lucien's magic had been suppressed, and he had been denied any kind of healer. His body had been forced to heal at the rate of a human.

It didn’t take long for the wounds to re-open, blood staining the handsome tunic Lucien wore.

Amarantha underestimated Lucien, too. Rhys could sense he would refuse to give out until this killed him, just to spite the bitch. But she wouldn’t know that. Once Lucien was breathing heavily, and finally cracked to let out a whimper of pain, Rhys enveloped his mind in darkness and allowed him to slump to the floor, unconscious.

“Pathetic,” Amarantha hissed, as Lucien’s brothers, clustered around her throne as usual, sniggered and jeered their approval.

She waved a dismissive hand at Rhys, “Get him out of my sight,” she commanded, already bored, turning away to watch Feyre with amusement.

“At once, lady,” Rhys said.

Snapping his fingers, he lifted Lucien’s limp form into the air then carried him down to the cells, where he would return Feyre to in a few hours.

Setting him down far more gently than he would have dared to under Amarantha’s watchful gaze, Rhys gazed down at the fae male he had almost let himself love, once upon a time.

His fingers traced the scar over his eye with sadness. Then gently unbuttoned the blood-stained, ruined tunic, and examined the mess of his back. Torn, raw flesh, weeping fresh blood once more after Amarantha’s forced dancing.

It would have been worse if you hadn’t put a stop to it when you did, he tried to tell himself. Anger flared as another thought crept into his mind, And it would have been a lot better if Tamlin hadn’t sent him to that fucking party.

The High Lord of Spring had to know how much Amarantha enjoyed using Lucien as her plaything. Torturing him was becoming something she enjoyed almost as much as she enjoyed torturing him.

Sighing, Rhys reached out a hand, magic flaring, but-

Slim, hot fingers wrapped around his wrist, surprising him, which was impressive in itself.

Lucien, remarkably, had fought his way back to consciousness.

Stupid, stubborn bastard, Rhys thought, with fondness.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lucien demanded, spitting blood from a bitten tongue out of his mouth at Rhys’s knees.

“That’s really no way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian, Lucien,” Rhys said, tutting, “I see you haven’t improved your manners since last we met.”

“I see you haven’t stopped being a prick, either,” Lucien shot back, weakly.

“I’m overwhelmed by your wit,” Rhys said sardonically.

“Fuck off and let me bleed, Rhys,” Lucien muttered thickly, body starting to tremble with the pain.

“Is that what Tamlin would do?” Rhys asked, unable to stop himself picking at that old wound between them.

A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw, but for once he restrained himself from answering. Perhaps Amarantha’s eye gouging had changed him, after all.

“No,” Rhys continued, folding his arms across his chest, “No, Tamlin doesn’t even know your bleeding out down here for his foolish command. Or, more appropriately, he doesn’t care.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Lucien snapped, some of that fire flaring in his remaining eye again.

Rhys still wasn’t used to the mechanical one. He’d spent a long time, previously, getting lost in that blazing gaze before. It wasn’t the same now.

Rhys tutted idly, rocking back on his heels, peering down at Lucien, “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, you know.”

“And you do?” Lucien shot back, an awful disdain twisting his face.

Rhys’s jaw tightened, “I didn’t say that,” he said, smoothly.

Lucien laughed bitterly, even though it made him convulse with pain, “You meant it, though.”

He rolled onto his side, snarling with pain as he did, so that he could look Rhys full in the face as he spoke. Lucien had always been far too skilled at reading him, and he looked away, unable to bear that burning gaze.

“He didn’t deserve the sacrifice you made to stay with him,” Rhys breathed.

“Sacrifice?” Lucien repeated, “You mean you?” He laughed, the sound raw and humourless, echoing in the cavernous cell around them. It degenerated to coughing before long. “I owed him. I still do. He saved my life. He took me in after Jes. I pledged my fealty to him. You thought I’d turn away from that for your fucking dick?”

Rhys met his furious gaze once more as he said, softly, “I thought you might have turned away from it for the chance at happiness.” He rose to his feet, staring down at Lucien, something tightening within him, “But you could never let yourself have that, could you? It’s always been your most fatal flaw, Lucien. You don’t know how to let yourself be happy.”

“And you do?”he shot back.

“I could have learned,” Rhys said, very quietly, and he knew Lucien felt the sincerity in it, “For you.”

That actually shut Lucien up, for once. The only times he’d managed to achieve that before had been with decidedly more creative applications of his tongue.

“Don’t return to the party tonight,” he said, “I’ll be back here in a few hours with Feyre, and you can visit her yourself. Lie there and try not to drown in your own blood until then, won’t you?”

He turned, cloak covering Lucien in black for a moment, before pulling away, leaving him trembling on the cold stone floor.

Despite the anger that pulsed in his chest, he couldn’t leave him like that. He waved an idle finger, and Lucien’s wounds sealed themselves. Not fully. Not enough to leave Amarantha suspicious, but enough to ease his agony for now.

Lucien blinked and sat up as Rhys turned away again.

“What will she do to you if she learns of this?” he asked, very quietly.

Rhys forced himself to smile, “I doubt she’ll think of anything new. She’s not particularly creative, you know.”

“It’s still a risk,” Lucien said, gazing at him with suspicion, as if he expected some bargain, some demand for recompense.

Rhys shrugged in response, “Perhaps I think it’s worth it.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Lucien asked, sounding genuinely, heartbreakingly, bemused.

“Maybe I think you’re worth it,” Rhys said, more softly still.

Lucien eyed him for a long moment, pregnant with heavy silence, words they’d never spoken to one another echoing up through the lonely decades they’d spent apart.

“I’ll never understand you, Rhys,” he muttered finally, shaking his head.

“Isn’t that part of my enigmatic mystique and irresistible air?” he replied slyly.

Lucien smirked at that, “Enigmatic ego and insufferable ass, more like.”

“You found my ass quite sufferable, if memory serves,” Rhys smirked.

Lucien grinned. For a moment they weren’t trapped in this foul pit of a place. They were on the borders of Spring, Lucien’s mouth hot and insistent against his, fingers roaming beneath dark Illyrian leathers with surprising knowledge of buckle placement.

“Thank you,” Lucien said, a little too stiffly.

“I do believe that might have caused you more pain than the whipping,” Rhys quipped.

“It certainly is now, with you gloating in my face,” Lucien scowled in response.

“Take care, Little Lucien,” Rhys said, waving an idle hand back towards him as he moved to the door of the cell.

“And you, Rhys,” Lucien said, very quietly.

There was such emotion in that deep russet eye of his, that Rhys forced himself to winnow back to the party, before he did something incredibly stupid. Like kissing him.

***

Thanks for the prompt!! I hope you liked it!

#rhycien #rhysand #lucien vanserra #ratabrasileira #rhycien fic #acotar series #fic prompt fill #my fic #rhycien is the BEST #acotar #ask game answers #fun fact: i'm fucking incapable of writing anything 'drabble' length lol

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spaceshipkat · 3 years

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part 3 of my ac0sf recap will cover chapters 41 - 60

part 1 covering the intro - chapter 20 can be found here

part 2 covering chapters 21 - 40 can be found here

chapter 41: Helion arrives at the Hewn City on a pegasus, bc riceman said he couldn’t ride in on a golden chariot. we learn pegasuses are rare. Cassian and riceman admire the stallion Helion arrives on. Helion offers to take faerug on a ride on the pegasus, but she declines and says she can’t risk it, and then riceman and faerug decide to tell Helion she’s pregnant. riceman drops the shield on faerug and Helion can smell that she’s pregnant, then conveys his congratulations. he asks where Mor is and Azriel says “away”. after seeing the two Autumn Court soldiers, faerug asks Helion if the soldiers are “enchanted.” he says that their bodies and actions are “indeed not their own, but no spell lies upon them.” riceman asks what it is then, and Helion says he doesn’t know, only that it was like fog or mist, intangible to break but there. they realize it must be the Crown, one of the Dead Trove objects, and faerug explains everything to Helion. Azriel thinks that Briallyn possessing the Crown is the reason the other queens fled, so she couldn’t use it on them. it could even be why Koschei is working with her, bc he wants it. they wonder why the soldiers were in Oorid at all, then, and Helion says it’s possible she scryed the location of the Mask but didn’t want to risk going into Oorid herself, so she sent the soldiers to take the Mask from Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel when they found it. faerug says that Briallyn would have to be stupid to think the soldiers could take anyone in the Night Court. Helion asks if he can see the Mask, and faerug says that they need his help with it as it happens, as riceman warded the room holding the Mask but the doors opened for Nesta. Helion seems excited that Nesta is here. as they walk to where Nesta is waiting, Cassian is sad about the fact Nesta hasn’t come to him for more sex after seeing faerug and riceman practically eye-hump each other in front of everyone, and then Cassian thinks about the last time he and Nesta had sex and it gets him mildly horny, so Helion asks what Cassian is thinking about bc it apparently affected his scent and Cassian says “your mother” and Helion laughs. Nesta is sitting by the table with the Mask reading one of her “smutty” romances. she’s wearing a dress today that shows off her boobs, and Cassian doesn’t like that Helion gets to see her in this dress. Helion bows and says “Lady Nesta” and Nesta curtsies, then glances at faerug in question over being called “lady” to which faerug shrugs and says he’s being polite. Nesta tells Cassian she can see why he hates the titles and Cassian says you get used to it, and Helion seems shocked that Nesta isn’t more in awe that a High Lord is standing before her. Nesta asks about Helion’s pegasus and says it’s lovely, and Helion says that she’s lovely, and Cassian finds himself “near-breathless,” and Nesta thanks Helion for the compliment, to which he frowns. riceman asks Nesta to show Helion the Mask, and “cold, strange power” fills the room after she pulls the cloth hiding it away, and Helion asks if Nesta truly wore it and lived, though it’s not really a question, and he asks her to cover it again. the power of the Mask seems to affect Helion more than the others (apart from Nesta, i guess) and seems to “rake its cold claws” down his senses. he wonders if perhaps an ancestor of his wore it at some point and “the warning of its cost is imprinted upon [his] blood”. he then tells Nesta he’ll teach her the wards. in the end, Helion creates the wards and “keyed” them to Nesta’s blood, just a pinprick of it courtesy of Azriel’s sword. Cassian smells the blood and his hackles raise bc his instincts tell him Nesta is in danger or wounded. faerug asks if Cassian is jealous (he seems more possessive to me) of Helion for holding Nesta’s hand and Cassian denies it. Helion says that no one will be able to enter the room holding the Mask when his wards are up and says he’ll teach Nesta the unlocking spell, but she doesn’t want it bc, if Briallyn somehow gets her hands on Nesta, she doesn’t want Briallyn to be able to get into the room. Cassian suspects it’s more likely that Nesta herself is tempted by the Mask and doesn’t want access to it. riceman has Helion teach him the spell to enter the room so that riceman can show Nesta if they ever need the Mask. Azriel says they need to tell Eris about his soldiers, but not about having the Mask. riceman tells Cassian to tell Eris tomorrow and that Nesta will go with him bc he’s seen how Nesta handled Helion’s flirting. Azriel says he wants to go to the human lands to find out if Briallyn has the Crown, and riceman and faerug both say no. faerug explains that if Briallyn has the Crown, she could control Azriel, and orders him to pull all his spies out. he argues but riceman says that faerug’s “word is law”. Helion breaks the tense silence by saying he wants to leave the Mask’s presence and hang out at riceman’s place bc it’s quiet. riceman asks if anyone at home is bothering him. Cassian asks what Nesta is reading and nearly trips when she says it’s about sieges, not a romance, and she says she wants to read these other books bc she wants to know how to wield a weapon when she becomes one herself. Cassian asks if Nesta is planning on leading an army and she says no, just a small group of women, though she isn’t sure if the priestesses will want to join up. Nesta didn’t come to dinner so Cassian goes to see her, and brought her three books on war, his “reason” for being there. Cassian leaves her the books and goes to leave, and Nesta quickly asks him if the sex they had wasn’t good for him. he asks why she would think that, and she says bc he left so quickly last time and hasn’t sought her out since, and he says that she’s been busy with training. she seems hurt and he says he didn’t mean it like that, approaches the bed, and asks how he could be so selfish demanding sex from her when she’s so busy with training. she says it’s not a demand if both sides want it and she worried he didn’t like it as much as she did. he tells her how much he enjoyed it, asks if she touches herself thinking about it. she starts to show him how she touches herself and what she imagines he does to her when she does, but tells Cassian he can’t touch himself or her while she does so, and then she gives him permission to go down on her. and then she does and they have penetrative sex. it was both ~different~ for each other and after she says she needs him again, he says he knows, and she wonders how she can need him again so soon. he says he’s needed her from the moment they met and now that he has her he doesn’t want to stop and she says “yes.” they stare at each other and then he somehow get instantly hard again. she points out how weeks ago he said she’d be crawling into his bed and she says it’s the other way around and Cassian smiles and says “it would appear so”. they have sex again.

chapter 42: Cassian is summoned to the river house just after dawn. after round 2, he returned to his room, though he and Nesta both understand better what “just sex” means for them. he’s still thinking about sex when he’s seated with Amren and Azriel in front of riceman’s desk. the three of them smell Nesta on Cassian, though only Amren reacts, narrowing her eyes at him. riceman says he’s called them here bc he got a visit from the blacksmith who Nesta and Cassian visited. the three weapons that Nesta worked on are apparently “cursed” and that’s why the blacksmith brought them to riceman. he warns Azriel against touching them. the weapons are actually imbued with Nesta’s power, which hasn’t been done in eons. the last one Made, Gwydion, is missing and has been for millennia, but was owned by the last fae king of Prythian. Nesta made a new magic sword. Cassian says Nesta didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t do it on purpose, and Amren says that that might be worse. if she poured emotions into the blades, they might be instruments of that emotion. the three weapons are meant to be treated as objects in a new Dread Trove. Azriel points out people might want to kill or capture Nesta for her power. Cassian says she could forge weapons that would allow them to win any war. Amren says Nesta can’t learn of her power. riceman says that seems like a risk bc she could unknowingly do it again. Amren says that Nesta could create something to spite them in “one of her moods” and Cassian says she would never do that and that Amren knows that. Nesta could create not a Dread Trove but a Trove of Nightmares. Cassian says he can’t lie about it to her and Amren says he doesn’t have to, he simply never has to volunteer the information. Cassian asks if riceman is okay with this bc he’s not, and riceman says that Amren’s order holds. Amren says that Cassian should be careful during sex bc who knows what she might do to him, bc Amren is being mean, and Azriel says he’s with Cassian on this, that lying to Nesta doesn’t seem right. riceman says that faerug will be the deciding vote. Amren says that no one can unsheathe the swords. when she’s gone, riceman tells Cassian and Azriel he can’t find anything to help faerug, either with Drakon and Miryam or at the Dawn Court. riceman says he won’t tell faerug bc he doesn’t want to make her scared or take away any joy. he begged Helion to look in his libraries for any help. Cassian looks back to the swords and says he wants to take a look at them. Azriel says Amren said no, and Cassian says Amren isn’t here. riceman says it’s a bad idea but uses his magic to unsheathe the biggest sword (sj///m doesn’t say what kind it is) but it’s heavy in a way that it shouldn’t be, like it’s fighting against his magic. the sword doesn’t seem to want to be revealed by riceman but he manages to remove the scabbard, and the steel literally glows. magic sparks on the blade, though not on the other sword or the dagger. the dagger radiates coldness while the second sword simply seems angry. Amren returns and finds them and says she knew they wouldn’t be able to resist looking. riceman says he’s never seen anything like them. Amarantha tried to keep a magic sword but it wouldn’t listen to her so she tossed it into the ocean, but her having the sword is nothing but a rumor. Amren says that, with these three blades, riceman could be king of Prythian, but he says he doesn’t want to be, only wants to be here with his mate and his people. here’s the full scene of it.

chapter 43: riceman winnows Nesta and Cassian to the meeting place with Eris in the Spring Court. Cassian is itchy bc of allergies. they’ve been waiting for ten minutes and Eris has yet to arrive. Cassian complains about it and, naturally, that’s the moment Eris arrives. Eris says that he’s heard they have news regarding his soldiers. Cassian says the bad news is most of them are dead, and the good news is that two are alive. Eris asks who did it. Cassian explains what happened. Eris is angry about that. Cassian snarks “do you want me to apologize?” there’s a lot of posturing until Nesta says that Azriel was shot with an ash arrow, and wonders if those arrows are from Briallyn or Eris himself. Eris blinks, which is answer enough, and Nesta wonders why he was storing those arrows at all. Nesta wonders if an ash arrow through the heart would be enough to kill a High Lord, and Eris says they’re wasting his time, and she says he’s wasting theirs. Nesta says that if Eris wants to play warmonger, he should bc she likes an interesting opponent, and Eris states again that he’s not their enemy. Cassian says that he regrets killing Eris’s soldiers, but they were and still are under the Crown’s control so he did what he had to. they’ll still be sent back to Eris today. Eris propositions Nesta when he notices Cassian touching her, and Cassian gets angry, but before anything can happen Tamlin shows up. Tamlin growls and Cassian says they were just leaving. Tamlin looks at Nesta with rage and hatred. Nesta lets Tamlin see some of her power and say that he won’t touch them, and he says he has every right to kill trespassers on his land. Nesta points at Tamlin, who is scared of her finger, and she says she’s glad he remembers what happened to the last person she pointed at. then they all leave after Nesta threatens Tamlin to not tell anyone he saw them. Nesta stares down into the darkness below the library. Cassian went to the river house after they left the meeting with Eris and hasn’t returned. Nesta can’t sleep so the house gives her a glass of warm milk. Nesta wonders if the house is her home. Nesta thinks she sees something in the darkness, but just as it’s making itself known, Cassian appears behind her. Nesta says there’s nothing, just shadows, after Cassian goes “on alert”. Cassian tells Nesta she did well against Eris and Tamlin. they both agree Tamlin didn’t deserve faerug.

chapter 44: they’re training with swords. we get a recap that Cassian walked Nesta back to her room by holding her hand, and then saw the chapters on the Valkyries on her desk that she’s reading about. Nesta felt the need to explain herself to Cassian about why she’s reading them, but he says nothing before lying on her bed so they can 69, which she has never done before. Cassian says that it’s “some Valkyrie unit” Nesta is working on bc they’re all tired from working out, and Gwyn asks if Nesta told him, and Cassian says no he just recognizes the Mind-Stilling technique. we learn Cassian fought alongside the Valkyries for five battles before the Battle of Meinir Pass, when the Valkyries were killed. Cassian says enough history and tells them they’ve learned six of eight techniques for fighting with a sword. they’ll learn the last two today. Gwyn asks why they don’t use Valkyrie techniques. Cassian says it’s bc he doesn’t know any of them. Nesta says they should, as Valkyries reborn, combine both Valkyrie and Illyrian fighting techniques. Cassian tells Gwyn to bring information on Valkyries so they can combine the fighting techniques. Cassian is at dinner in the river house and to hear faerug’s vote for what should be done with Nesta’s weapons, and faerug says immediately that Nesta should be informed, but Cassian volunteers to do it. the only one who didn’t vote is Mor, who is still in Vallahan. Elain says they never heard of Valkyries in the human lands. riceman says they were lovely as Elain on the outside but as bloodthirsty as Amren on the inside when on a battleground. Amren says she liked them. Amren and Cassian agree it was largely the Valkyries’ king’s fault they died. Cassian had a Valkyrie lover named Tanwyn. Cassian says Nesta would have fit in with the Valkyries, and Elain says she always said Nesta had been born on the wrong side of the wall. Nesta “lets the wolf roam” when she’s on a dance floor and to music. Elain tells a story of Nesta at a ball back before they were poor. Elain says something about Nesta being meant for a prince and Cassian feels nervous about that. Elain is glad that Nesta is taking an interest in something again, and in this case it’s the Valkyries. Cassian decides there needs to be music for Nesta, though i’m not sure what he means.

chapter 45: the Valkyries’ training exercises are brutally difficult. Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn are exhausted and Cassian says “pathetic” about it, and Gwyn says he should try the exercises, and he says he was up at dawn doing so. Cassian asks what Nesta would name a sword, and Nesta shrugs and says “Killer” and then wonders why it’s important to name a sword when Cassian isn’t amused. when training ends, Nesta asks Cassian why he was pestering her about naming a sword. he explains about the swords she Made. Nesta asks who the “we” is from Cassian’s explanation, and he says riceman and faerug, and she asks how long he’s known about this and not told her and he won’t answer, and she gets angry when he says this isn’t the place to talk about it. he tells her that they took a vote on telling her but he hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet, and she gets angry over that, that they were planning on keeping it from her if not for a vote, and she demands to know who voted against her, and when Cassian says riceman and Amren, Nesta isn’t surprised by riceman but is deeply hurt by Amren. he sees her hurt, but she fortifies “those steel walls within her mind” and lets him see her cut him out, then she walks away from him toward Gwyn and Emerie, who were watching bc they seemed to sense her getting upset, and worries and panics about the day the two of them will decide she’s not worth their time the way Amren has. she goes to leave and Emerie and Gwyn follow her, asking her if she’s all right, and she lies and says she is and then runs away. she goes to her room to run a bath and refuses to answer Cassian’s knock on the door, and when it goes silent she asks the house if he’s gone and it confirms he is by opening the door to show he’s gone. she stops filling the tub and then goes to the 10,000 steps where she finally lets “her fury out”. she lets that fury and pain over Amren deeming her too unworthy and untrustworthy to be told about this power to Make weapons push her all the way down to the bottom of the staircase.

chapter 46: Nesta finds Amren’s loft and storms in on her and Varian having sex, though he uses a shield of water to block them from sight. she accuses Amren of voting to not tell Nesta about the power she has to Make weapons. Amren gets up and dresses in a silk robe, then tells Varian to drop the shield of water. Nesta tells Varian to get out, but he doesn’t leave until Amren tells him to, though he throws her a “warning glare” as he leaves, presumably to “tell the others” that she’s there. Amren says “I suppose that loudmouthed bastard told you more than was necessary.” Nesta says again that Amren voted against her, and Amren says that Nesta hasn’t done anything to prove she’s able to handle the power she has, and Amren brings up how Nesta walked away on the barge that marked the ending of Amren and Nesta’s friendship. Nesta says that she walked away bc Amren chose her sister, just as Elain had done. Amren asks how her support and protection of Nesta for months makes it seem like Amren sided against her back then, when she actually just realized that her own behavior might not have been helping her. Nesta says “you know how I feel about Feyre” and Amren taunts her for it, telling her that if she believes faerug doesn’t love her, it not only proves she’s incapable of handling her power but also willfully blind and therefore can’t be trusted. Nesta says “it’s different now” but also starts wondering if it’s true, and Amren says that training with Cassian and fucking Cassian are all well and good but they’re not going to help if she doesn’t start reflecting on everything. Nesta tells her to stop preaching and points at her to say something, then stops when Amren steps out of the line of fire, and Nesta asks if she really thinks Nesta would mark her with a “death-promise,” and Amren says she nearly did with Tamlin yesterday, which tells Nesta that Cassian told them everything that happened. Amren repeats what she said on the barge: that Nesta has “have powers that you still do not understand, respect, or control.” Nesta says “How dare you assume you know what is best for me?” and when Amren doesn’t reply, says “You were my friend,” and Amren says “Was I? I don’t think you know what that word means.” Nesta is hurt but then faerug storms in and tells Nesta to “stop this.” faerug says it shouldn’t have come out as it did (Nesta learning about the vote) and Nesta says her issue isn’t with Cassian, it’s with Amren, who should’ve had Nesta’s back. Nesta finally tells faerug the truth about the baby, and you can find the full excerpt here. back in Cassian’s POV, he goes to the river house and tells us that was his third mistake of the day: the first how he told Nesta, the second letting her hide in her room. he had had no idea if Nesta had made it down all 10,000 steps, so he goes down them himself to look for her in case she collapsed on them. he reaches riceman’s study. riceman is furious and tells Cassian to get Nesta out of the city before he kills her for telling faerug the truth.

chapter 47: Cassian finds Nesta running through the city. he doesn’t give her the chance to see him before he swoops down, picks her up, and flies off. Azriel is waiting with a pack for Nesta so they don’t have to risk going to the House of Wind. Nesta thinks she deserves to be killed by riceman for telling faerug the truth. Cassian is cold and quiet to Nesta as he finds a place to camp. faerug reaches out to Cassian to asks how he’s doing. he says he should be the one asking faerug that. faerug says that riceman “completely and utterly overreacted” and Cassian says he’s sorry she had to learn about it, and faerug says she’s not, she’s furious with all of them for keeping it from her. Cassian says they’re all furious with Nesta, and faerug says that Nesta was the only one with the courage to tell her the truth. Cassian asks how faerug can be so calm about this, and she says that the alternative is fear and panic and she won’t do that to her son. faerug says that riceman had no right to threaten Nesta or chase them out of the city, and he’s realized that and apologized, and now faerug wants them to come back. Cassian says they’re going to stay out in the wilderness for a few days, maybe hike. faerug says that Nesta will hate it, and Cassian says to tell riceman that this is Nesta’s punishment, then. riceman says that he “knows he’s supposed to say that’s unnecessary” but that he’s “secretly delighted,” and Cassian says that he’s secretly glad to hear that. faerug tells Cassian to take care of himself and Nesta, and he says he will.

chapter 48: Cassian wakes Nesta up and tells her to eat something bc they have a long day ahead of them. Cassian is still angry and tells Nesta that they’ll be hiking all day with only two stops for rest. he tells Nesta she’ll be carrying the heavy pack bc he can’t with his wings. they hike in silence. he’s cold and cruel to her. he tells her to fill a waterskin bc if she doesn’t she might fall off the mountain, and she says good, and he finally realizes that she hates herself to the point of thinking she should just die. he shrugs and tells us he can’t help her. we learn that Mor once said the land Cassian brought Nesta to were once used for healing, and Cassian wonders if that’s why he took Nesta here, then wonders if it’ll be enough.

chapter 49: halfway up the mountain, Cassian says they’ll camp here at an overlook for the night. she collapses in exhaustion and he tells her to take off the pack so he can at least cook himself dinner. he left her food but she doesn’t touch it. a few days later, Nesta passes out. Cassian gives her water. he wants to comfort her but a voice tells him not to, to just go one more mountain, and he listens to it and says they’ll camp where she passed out that night. her self-loathing reaches a peak and she starts to cry.

chapter 50: when she stops crying, she lets every self-loathing thought slam into her. Cassian says he’s here, and she asks him to not be kind to her bc she doesn’t deserve it. she tells Cassian that she let her dad die. he tells her that his death isn’t her fault, that he was there and saw no way out either. he pulls her into his lap. she says that her dad’s death is why she can’t stand fires, bc the logs crack and pop and it sounds like a breaking neck. she continues to tell him everything about why she hates herself. Cassian tells her about his mom. he tells Nesta she can get through all of this and she says she doesn’t think she can. here’s what Cassian says to her. there’s more about Nesta taking blame but i can’t bear to type it out. in Cassian’s POV, he realizes how much she was hurting and how the crackle of fire actually hurt her whenever he lit one. Cassian gets up and gives his sword to Nesta, then tells her to start practicing with it. she smiles and starts practicing.

chapter 51: when Nesta returns after a week away, she’s able to use an actual sword, according to Emerie. there’s now a beam with a white silk ribbon in the training ring. Emerie asks if she and Cassian at least had a lot of sex, and we get a paragraph detailing how they stayed two days later than planned so they could “fuck like animals”. Cassian orders Gwyn to explain why she put the ribbon on the beam, and it turns out it’s a Valkyrie test to find out if you’re ready for battle: slice the ribbon in two. while Cassian and Nesta were gone, Azriel got the priestesses and Emerie started on training with real swords. no one wants to go first on slicing the ribbon in two. Emerie goes first and fails to slice the ribbon. Cassian, of course, slices the ribbon and says “at least i can cut the ribbon”. after training ends, Nesta finds it difficult to forget that “parting shot” and she and Cassian go have violent sex in his room. Nesta doesn’t go to Velaris, doesn’t go to the river house, doesn’t go to see faerug or Amren. she also doesn’t make it down all 10,000 steps again, though she knows she might be able to if she really wanted to. she keeps trying the stairs for a week straight. in training, they’ve started on shields now, too, and no one so far can slice the ribbon though they try at the start and end of each training session. every night and sometimes during the day, Cassian and Nesta have sex, though they never sleep together afterward, even though Nesta sometimes wants to. Gwyn finds Nesta reading a book on military history and Nesta asks for a favor. Nesta knows she needs to scry soon for the Harp. Nesta asks Gwyn about the evening services the priestesses have and Gwyn talks about the music. Nesta says she’ll be there bc she thinks she needs that, and then tells Gwyn about what Nesta was like after the war and explains she chose the places she frequented bc of the music. Nesta says she think she’s glad that faerug sent Nesta to the House of Wind bc she doesn’t miss anything from what she was doing to survive after the war apart from music, and wants to attend one of the services to hear music again bc she’s not “exactly welcome” in Velaris. Gwyn says that Nesta’s story is worth telling, and Nesta starts to object, but Gwyn just says “it is” and then says Nesta can come to the services and that she’ll be glad to have Nesta there. Nesta starts to think that she won’t once she learns how Nesta used to be, and apparently this shows on her face, bc Gwyn rushes to say she understands why Nesta did what she did, and that she herself fears what Nesta and Emerie will think if they learn Gwyn’s history. Gwyn says Nesta should come to the service with her and that Nesta will always be welcome to join her.

chapter 52: Nesta goes to the service with Gwyn and the priestesses sing. apparently the music made Nesta scry without meaning to and she finds the Harp’s location. Cassian goes to tell riceman that the Harp is beneath the Prison, and Nesta told him she fears she woke up the Harp. we learn Azriel went to find Mor for a report on the Vallahan situation and faerug and Amren are out at dinner together, so it’s just Cassian and riceman. we learn that riceman put a shield around the Prison bc he feared Beron would free the inmates to use. riceman says to give him the night and he’ll “untangle” the shield to let Cassian and Nesta in. riceman gives Cassian one of the swords Nesta Made bc he wants to see what Nesta does with it.

chapter 53: Nesta is shocked that riceman gave Cassian the sword to use as they walk up the hill to the Prison the next morning. riceman told Cassian this is the best place for her to see if it works. Nesta wonders if it’s bc, should it go badly, it will only kill her and no one else, and Cassian says that she’s not going to die, neither by that sword nor at the Prison. Cassian asks if Nesta remembers the rules, she says yes, and the bone gates start to open for them. they walk through the Prison. the door beside the stone they need to pass through holds Lanthys. Nesta approaches the stone and somehow walks right through it, as does Cassian. he didn’t know there was anything else but cells in the Prison. they find the Harp, though it’s wholly silent, and Nesta realizes there are wards here so they need to be careful as they walk toward it. Nesta thinks she can get close to the Harp despite the wards like she was able to do with the Mask. Cassian doesn’t want her going in alone, but she says that his presence might trigger the wards. Cassian says he can’t risk her, and she says he has to. he gives her the sword she Made. the wards allow her through though they’re unlike any she’s felt before. Cassian says they might predate the Prison, but no one knows what used to be here before it. Cassian wonders if the Prison was built here so the magic of the inmates would mask the Harp’s power. riceman evidently said the island that houses the Prison is rumored to have once been an eighth court. Nesta says the Harp looks newly polished, and Cassian says it exists outside the “bindings of time” like the Cauldron does. the carvings on the floor look different from the carvings signifying the Night Court, and their magic feels different, too. the Harp sits on an eight-pointed star carving. Nesta suddenly feels like she’s been brought here, lured here, but not by the Harp. Nesta touches the Harp and hears someone talking about what happened to the fae. there’s a blinding light and then she finds herself in a “white-stoned palace” where five thrones are on a dais, and a sixth throne holds a crone who wears a crown. find the full excerpt here. then she hears Cassian yelling her name, trying to get to her where she lays on the floor with the Harp in her hands. evidently, touching the Harp while Briallyn wears the Crown opened a pathway between their minds and she knows she has to let go of the Harp. it talks to her, asks if it should open a door for her, and she says yes, and it says that it’s been a while so it might take it a bit to do so. the Harp called her sister. it tells her about what its strings can do, and she says that all it needs to do is break the wards for her, so it tells her to play the first string, which she does, and the wards break. Cassian is still yelling her name, but she says she’s fine. she thinks someone “very wicked” used the Harp last, and used it to trap their enemies and enemies’ children into the stone itself. Cassian asks if she’s all right, and she says yes but that they need to leave bc Briallyn saw her here, and tells him everything that happened as she walks back toward him. when she reaches Cassian, he looks her over to make sure she’s okay. they leave and Nesta says she named her sword Ataraxia, which is apparently from the Old Language. as they leave Nesta kisses Cassian and he asks what it was for and she says that Cassian is her friend and he says he always has been and she says she knows. Cassian tells Nesta to run bc the door to Lanthys’s cell is open.

chapter 54: Cassian looks at Lanthys’s open cell and knows two things: 1) he’s gonna die, 2) he won’t let Nesta die. Cassian taunts Lanthys, who talks about being immortal and biding his time, to try to get him focused on Cassian so Nesta can run. the Harp opened the door to Lanthys’s cell, and Cassian fears if the other cells in the Prison are also open. Lanthys wonders what Nesta is holding, sees it’s the Harp, and says he wondered when someone would come for it. he also scents Cassian on Nesta and starts to muse that they’re mates but Cassian cuts him off before he can actually say the word. Cassian yells at Nesta to run and she does and hopes he can hold Lanthys off until she’s free. she realizes what she’s doing and stops running away. Nesta starts to wonder what she can do with the Harp, which has 26 strings, and remembers Gwyn saying that Merrill says there might be 26 other dimensions. she wonders if the Harp can transport her and knows she has to try for Cassian. ten Autumn Court soldiers enter the Prison, sent by Briallyn. Nesta summons her silver fire and plucks the first string on the Harp and tells it to take her to Cassian. he’s thrown against the stone and she lands near him, Lanthys comes closer and Nesta hits him with her sword. Lanthys takes form and is naked. he looks at her sword and says “That is not Narben” and she attacks him again. Lanthys asks Nesta what death-god she is. he’s afraid of her sword, and she tells him to get back in his cell, and tells him her sword’s name, and he asks if she really named a death-sword Ataraxia. Lanthys boasts about who he is but is still afraid of her sword, and demands to know which death-god she is beneath her skin, and she says “i am nobody”. Lanthys realizes she’s Nesta, and says that they’d heard of her down in the Prison and that she took from the Cauldron itself. he stops and holds his hand out to her and says he can teach her everything she’s actually capable of and starts waxing poetic about it, and this follows:

Nesta could see the portrait Lanthys wove into the air around them. She saw herself on a black throne, a matching crown in her unbound hair. Enormous onyx beasts—scaled, like those she’d seen on the Hewn City’s pillars—lay at the foot of the dais. Ataraxia leaned against her throne, and on her other side…Lanthys sat there, his hand laced through hers. Their kingdom was endless; their palace built of pure magic that lived and thrived around them. The Harp sat behind them on an altar, the Mask, too, but the golden Crown wasn’t there.

It rested atop Lanthys’s head.

chapter 54 continued: in the vision, she sees a fourth object but can’t make out anything other than “age-worn bone”. he also shows them having sex. she breaks the vision and he says he’ll take care of “that” problem (Cassian). she tells him to return to his cell again, he says he’ll just escape again and then he’ll find her and make her his queen, and she says he won’t. she distracts him and Cassian throws a dagger at Lanthys’s chest and then Nesta beheads Lanthys. Cassian tells her to get the Harp and that they have to go, but he doesn’t seem able to make it more than three steps. everyone else in the Prison starts screaming bc they felt Lanthys die by Nesta and are afraid they’ll be next. Nesta uses the Harp to bring them to the river house and plucks three strings. riceman comes running out as Cassian collapses.

chapter 55: apparently Cassian’s skull was cracked and his arm was broken, and riceman tells him he needs to rest for a few days, though Cassian doesn’t want to. Nesta is still holding her sword and the Harp. Nesta apologizes to faerug for that day in Amren’s apartment and faerug says she forgives her. riceman tells Nesta to put the Harp on the desk, and she does. the Harp can winnow people regardless of wards, riceman suggests they hide it with the Mask, and faerug says they should be kept separate. Nesta explains what Briallyn said and did. they didn’t kill the Autumn Court soldiers. riceman put the shield back up around the Prison. Nesta asks what the Wild Hunt is, riceman says it makes Lanthys at least 15,000 years old, riceman explains that the Daglan, ancient powerful beings, created the fae and ruled over fae and humans. some stories say that the Daglan were defeated by someone named Fionn who wielded the sword Gwydion, which was made by High Priestess Oleanna who dipped it in the Cauldron. however, after a thousand years the freed lands began to fight and Fionn united them as king. Fionn was overthrown by his queen and his best friend, a general. they then took some of his powerful weapons and the courts rose out of the chaos with High Lords. faerug wonders if Amren knows any of this, but riceman says that she arrived before Fionn and Gwydion, during the Age of Legends, and was then imprisoned bc they believed her one of their enemies. when she emerged from the Prison, the High Lords were already in existence. Nesta asks what Narben is and riceman says that it was a death-sword that had been destroyed. riceman explains the Wild Hunt, and Nesta says that the hounds in it look like the beasts in the Hewn City, and then explains what Lanthys showed her. she asks if there was ever a fourth object in the Trove, bc she saw a fourth object, and riceman says as far as anyone knows there were only ever three, though Amren remembers a rumor of a fourth. Nesta says now she has to go after the Crown, and Cassian says no, and faerug agrees with him. faerug says that if Briallyn wants the Harp and Mask so badly, she’ll have to come for it herself. riceman says they need to put an end to her before war can truly erupt, but faerug is adamant that it’s too risky, so riceman says they need to form wartime alliances again. Eris will come to the Winter Solstice celebration bc he’s worried about Tamlin having seen him with Cassian and Nesta and worries they’ll sell him out or balk from the alliance bc Tamlin might tell someone. riceman wants to prove to Eris they’re still with him. faerug says they’ll buy him a present, riceman says he’ll want more than that and looks at Nesta, and both Cassian and faerug balk at that. riceman tells Nesta about Elain telling them how Nesta danced with the duke on the dance floor and that he wants Nesta to seduce Eris, though not into her bed, only to show him that they’re still allied with him. faerug explains the logic best:

“We need to show Eris that we respect and trust him,” Feyre conceded with a defeated sigh. “Even if we don’t. And letting him dance with one of our family is proof of that—at least for someone from the Autumn Court. If he winds up eating out of Nesta’s hand, fantastic. If it just makes him remember that we’re on his side, good. But these bonds have to be maintained.”

chapter 55 continued: Nesta agrees and says to tell Mor she’s ready for dance lessons whenever she is. Cassian doesn’t like it, but faerug says he doesn’t have to, he simply has to stand on the sidelines and not look like he wants to rip Eris in half. Nesta gives her sword back, riceman says she can keep it, and Nesta says she’d rather not deal more death. in her bedroom that night, Nesta meditates with the Mind-Stilling technique. Azriel winnows Cassian and Nesta to the cottage, and then Azriel returns to train with Gwyn on daggers but promises to return in an hour. Nesta doesn’t know why she asked Cassian to come with her, but she felt the urge to return here for some reason. Cassian follows Nesta inside after they take in the decay of the outside. Cassian is fully-healed two days after the fight. Nesta starts to feel ashamed of Cassian seeing this, and he says he’s lived in far worse bc at least they had a roof. she’s shaking, so Cassian says to walk him through it, but she can’t find the words and so he starts asking her questions about the place. he tells her about the cabin faerug painted. she finds the figurines her dad carved and Cassian says he had some skill, and Nesta says “not enough”. she thinks she’s going to vomit but practices breathing exercises. Cassian tells Nesta she had every right to be angry at her dad, and she says that Cassian didn’t say that before, that he called her a piece of shit for letting faerug hunt alone, and Cassian says he “didn’t say it like that”. she says he was right, and explains how and why she was so angry, and why she treated her dad the way she did (she wanted him to feel a fraction of what she felt--grief, rage, sorrow). she says she doesn’t know why he named his ship after her, Cassian says it’s bc she’s his daughter and love is complicated. Nesta says she never considered what the family life was like for her dad and says she didn’t only fail faerug when she went into the woods alone but plenty of other times. Cassian asks if she’s ever told faerug any of this, and Nesta says no, and Cassian says she’ll figure out how when the time is right. Nesta says she’s seen enough and takes a rose carving her dad gave Elain. Cassian says Azriel won’t be back for a while and they should go flying, and says the humans seeing them flying will feel terror but it’ll add “a little spice to their lives”.

chapter 56: a month passes and winter sweeps in, but Nesta and the others continue to train. she and Cassian have had a lot of sex and she knows she’ll never tire of him. she’s also been practicing dancing with Mor twice a week. the solstice is in three days and Mor asks Nesta what she’s going to wear. Mor says she’ll look for something Nesta can wear bc Nesta doesn’t want to be dressed in as little as faerug does (it’s not said demeaningly! it’s just not Nesta’s style) and then tells Nesta to call her Mor, not Morrigan. Nesta has to go to the library and Mor does, too, so they go down to it together. Nesta asks Mor if it bothers her that she’ll be dancing with Eris, and Mor says “No. Because I know you’re going to make him crawl before the end of it.” Clotho hugs Mor and Mor calls her “my old friend.” Nesta leaves them and finds Gwyn and Emerie in the library, and asks Emerie what she’s doing here. Emerie says she wanted to see where Nesta and Gwyn work, and Emerie says she always forgets how pretty Mor is and Nesta thinks she sees Emerie blush. Gwyn says she got Emerie and Nesta presents for the solstice. on level five, Emerie starts to pale and says that she swears she can hear her father yelling at her and breaking furniture, and Nesta says they should go up a level where the shadows aren’t so dark. Gwyn shows them pages of Merrill’s book, and Merrill let Gwyn write a chapter about the rebirth of the Valkyries (aka about Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie). Gwyn repeats that their stories are worth telling. that night, Nesta gets a note from Cassian that he needs to stay at an outpost to deal with a “petty squabble” bw Illyrian war-bands. they’re evidently feeling tetchy over this year’s Blood Rite. that night, Nesta can’t get herself to “settle” despite trying Mind-Stilling. the house gives her a mug of hot chocolate and then she says she wants to try a fire, so the house lights one and Nesta practices breathing exercises to calm down. she finds herself near tears at the end but is also proud of herself. the house leaves a trail of evergreen twigs for her to follow, and leads her to level seven of the library. there are tea lights down in the darkness, as if to draw her down there. she goes to the bottom of the pit and realizes the dark pit is the house’s heart. it leaves her more evergreen twigs as a solstice present. she realizes the darkness was the house trying to communicate and show others who it is.

chapter 57: Cassian says he used to like the solstice, but this year, same as last year, he feels "churning acid”. Nesta will dance with Eris at this first ball. Eris is wearing Night Court black. fey///sand are also using tonight to reveal that faerug is pregnant, so when she enters, her bump is visible through her dress and everyone gasps. Elain and Nesta walk in behind fey///sand to show that they’re part of the “royal family” and so Eris can see how important Nesta is for their dance. Cassian gets horny over Nesta in her dress but thinks black looks awful on Elain. fey///sand sit on their thrones and Elain and Nesta stand by the dais bw Cassian and Azriel. Cassian’s scent on Nesta has been glamoured so Eris doesn’t suspect their ruse tonight. Keir is first to offer congratulations to fey///sand for being pregnant. riceman says for the music to start and then faerug tells everyone to go eat, and then to dance. riceman gives Eris a solstice gift of the dagger Nesta Made and blocks Eris from Keir’s view while he does so. Eris wonders why and faerug says it’s bc he’s their ally. riceman says that the Made dagger is from his family collection, which Eris questions, and faerug says to not take their generosity for granted. Eris says thanks and gives it to riceman for safekeeping while Eris dances. faerug says Nesta will dance with Eris and he leads her onto the dancefloor. as they start to dance, Cassian thinks that Elain undersold Nesta’s skill at dancing. in Nesta’s POV, we get some waxing poetic about dancing. here’s much of the scene from Cassian’s perspective. the next dance begins and Eris leads her into it. Eris says “Trust Rhysand to keep you hidden away” and he says it was amusing to see her cut Tamlin down but this is even better. Eris tells Nesta to not believe the lies they tell her about him, about what he supposedly did to Mor, that Mor knows the truth but is afraid of it. Eris gets horny around Nesta. the dance ends and another begins and they keep dancing while Eris flirts and tells Nesta she’s wasted at the Night Court. Cassian cuts in, Eris is rude, Cassian is nervous to dance with her. Nesta tells Eris to not be selfish and that it’s time to share and Eris says they’ll “play later”. Nesta asks if Cassian is happy now, he says no, and Nesta sees that fey///sand are undoubtedly shouting at Cassian in his mind for cutting in. he and Nesta dance. Cassian will only “yield” Nesta to Azriel, who dances with her next. Cassian sees other people looking at Nesta and makes it clear they’re not to approach her. Mor stops beside Cassian as they watch Nesta and Azriel dance. Eris is by the thrones talking to riceman, who i guess is trying to clean up the mess Cassian made by cutting in. riceman lets Cassian into his mind so he can hear the conversation bw himself and Eris. Eris says he’ll give riceman whatever he wants in exchange for marrying Nesta, who he’d rather have than the Made dagger. riceman says that it’s not up to him and wants to know why Eris is adamant, but won’t read his mind. Eris says it would be a bonus to repay Cassian for ruining his betrothal to Mor. Eris says he’ll give anything but his firstborn to marry Nesta, and riceman says he’ll consider it and talk to Nesta, and tells him to keep the Made dagger bc he might need it.

chapter 58: Nesta stands outside looking at the Sidra River, and Cassian finds her. she tells us she hasn’t slept with Cassian since the ball bc she feels stupid for having smiled so openly at him while they danced. Nesta leaves the decision of whether or not to accept Eris’s offer to fey///sand. she and Cassian enter the river house for their family solstice celebration. Elain finds Nesta while she’s hanging up her cloak. Elain asks Nesta to not upset faerug bc it’s her birthday and Nesta snaps “fuck you” and instantly regrets it but Elain starts laughing and isn’t upset. Nesta still apologizes. Azriel and Elain look at each other and “something charged” passes bw them. the Inner Circlejerk is inside the family room, as are Lucien and Varian. Amren won’t look at Nesta, though Varian throws her a wary glance. Nesta asked Emerie and Gwyn to come with her, but both declined, so Nesta is alone with the same group as last year. Cassian beckons her over and offers her his seat, then asks if she wants tea and she says yes, and then she tells faerug happy birthday. Nesta turns to Lucien, who nods at her, and Elain is across the room from him as if to avoid him. Nesta and Lucien partake in awkward conversation. Lucien asks how training is going and Nesta says they’re learning how to disembowel a man and Lucien nearly spits his drink in shock. Mor says it’s her favorite part of training. Mor asks if they’re really training with Valkyrie methods and then asks if she can join them once the business with Vallahan is over. Nesta told Cassian she hadn’t bought him or anyone any gifts and he said it was fine, he didn’t care, but she cares. Azriel is still by the door, so Nesta walks over and asks him why he doesn’t join, and he lies and says his shadows don’t like the fire very much. Nesta realizes it’s bc Mor is by the fire, and she asks him why he came at all then, and he says he likes holidays bc they bring people together and also riceman asked him to come. Nesta touches his shoulder to show him she understands and then returns to her seat. an hour passes before they start opening presents. Cassian’s present to Nesta is in his pocket bc he wants to give it to her in private later. Cassian is proud of Nesta for improving. here’s the gift giving scene. everyone but Nesta is drinking but she doesn’t mind. they’ll all be staying at the river house bc everyone will be too drunk to winnow or fly. when Nesta is in her room, Cassian finds her and asks if she didn’t want to say goodnight, and she says she was tired, and he says she’s been tired for days now and wonders what’s going on. she says nothing, she asks why he’s not downstairs, and he says she didn’t ask about her present, and she tells him she assumed she wasn’t getting one from him. he asks why and she shrugs and says “i just did” and then he pulls out the small box for her. she apologizes for how she behaved last solstice and he says he forgave her a long time ago. she opens it to find it’s a silver orb and asks what it is and he says to touch the top and she does and music comes out of it. it’s evidently called a Symphonia and can trap music in it. she asks how he got the waltz music from the ball in it without the crowd, and he says he went back the next day and asked the orchestra to play so he could record it in the orb, as well as some of their favorites, and then went to her favorite taverns for music, too. she starts to cry and says she can’t accept it, and tells him to return it. he says it’s a gift, not a wedding ring, and she says no she’ll look to Eris for that, and Cassian tells her to repeat that. Cassian says he can’t believe Nesta said yes and she doesn’t reply, and Cassian says so he got too close and so she needs to push him away, and she says she’s not with him, she’s fucking him, and he says it’s bc it’s all he’s good for as a bastard, and she says she didn’t say that, and asks why he cut in at the ball, and he says bc he was jealous. she says Eris is a brute and that’s why she should marry him, bc they’re like each other and she deserves him, and goes on about how Cassian is too good for her and explains it all and cries and also tells him how much she wants him and that it scares her, and that she’s scared if she lets herself have him someone will take him away from her. he pulls her close and hugs her and:

“You’re not going to marry Eris,” he said roughly.

“No,” she breathed.

His eyes blazed. “There will be no one else. For either of us.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Ever,” he promised.

[...]

“Ever,” she swore.

chapter 58 continued: they have sex and accept the mating bond. Nesta asks Cassian to stay with her afterward and he does.

chapter 59: they wake up the next morning, have sex again, and Cassian realizes he’s late to the snowball fight. he tells her that, afterward, he has to be in Illyria for three days. Azriel takes over training while he’s gone and is more aloof than usual and won’t return Nesta’s smiles. Nesta misses Cassian more than should be normal (we know it’s the mating bond, she doesn’t). Nesta asks Gwyn and Emerie if they want to stay in the house with her tonight. Emerie is with her in the private library as they wait for Gwyn and Emerie and Nesta talk about Cassian’s ability at sex. Gwyn shows up. the house prepared a bedroom for all three of them to share. Nesta tells Gwyn and Emerie about the house and how it will give them anything they want. they spend hours asking for absurd things, such as a bathtub full of nothing but bubbles they sit in fully clothed in the middle of the private library. Gwyn tells them about her twin sister and they braid bracelets together and the charms hold wishes.

chapter 60: Cassian has been gone for five days and returns to Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta closer than before, joking with each other, and Nesta laughs. the three of them make some vow that seems to rock the world or something, and then Gwyn slices the ribbon in half. Nesta declares her a Valkyrie. it becomes a ritual to slice the ribbon and be declared a Valkyrie after one half of the ribbon being wrapped around your head, Emerie and Nesta also slicing the ribbon. after lessons, Cassian leaves and doesn’t return until the next morning, but he’s obviously avoiding her, and a couple days later the training ring becomes an obstacle course instead of a training ring, though it’s one that they have to work together to get through bc it’s impossible alone. the obstacle course is supposedly impossible to pass. after several hours, Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta are only halfway through, as do the other three priestesses. Gwyn and Azriel flirt a lot. Cassian and Azriel change the obstacle course every night. when they’re not doing the obstacle course, they’re doing military training, and evidently the Valkyries fought in phalanxes. more priestesses slice the ribbon and are declared Valkyries. every night, Nesta also runs the 10,000 steps. two months after the obstacle course is introduced, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie make it across. evidently, the obstacle course was the Blood Rite qualifier. it turns out Devlon and the other male Illyrians were watching them complete it that day. the other priestesses didn’t come bc Cassian told Clotho they would have observers today and didn’t want them to be subjected to it. Devlon flies away with his “cronies”. Cassian and Azriel warned Gwyn so she could make the decision to participate or not. Emerie asks if they’re joining the Blood Rite, clearly afraid, and Cassian says only if they want to. Cassian wanted to prove to Devlon that they’re as good as any male even if they don’t complete the Blood Rite. Azriel says short of completing the actual Blood Rite, they as close to an Illyrian warrior as anyone can be, and Nesta says she’d rather by a Valkyrie.

#anti sjm #anti acosf #myth and kat read acosf #spoilers #long post #acosf recap

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Twelve

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me)

this has been delayed far too long, so i’ll leave a note at the end.

---

November 5 - 4 years after

Nesta cannot fight the broad grin on her face when she wakes to find her sons back in full health. She’s happy they’re better, and thrilled to have her daughter back in the house. She rushes through her day at the shop and still can’t help herself; she leaves to the nursery at three fifteen. She tries to make the walk as long as possible, stopping to chat with Aysel along the way, but arrives at twenty to four. She won’t take them out early, as that would probably only upset them. But it feels like too long since she’s had all of them together, to herself, that she only barely manages to stop herself outside the building.

“Oh, hello, Nesta,” she hears behind her.

She turns. “Hello, Classia.”

“All alone today?” she asks cheerfully. “Me too, Ulvi’s at the boutique. I’m rather miserable with numbers, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“How are the boys?” she says, tone more sympathetic.

“They’re here today!” Nesta can’t keep the excitement out of their voice. “And Avery’s coming home!”

Classia blinks, unused to seeing such enthusiasm from Nesta. “Oh, where was she?”

“Cassian had her. At Miri’s house. I didn’t want her to get sick,” she says, hurriedly adding the last part. That’s the last rumor she needs spreading around; she is dividing up her children between herself and her...their father.

“It’s wonderful that he’s here, then,” she coos. “I know you’ve had such help from the whole of Sugar Books and Zeyn and Adil and Miri especially, but it’s not the same as a partner, is it? To share the emotional burden?”

And that is enough to wipe the smile of Nesta’s face, but not enough to completely dim the light inside her at the thought of holding all three of her children in her arms again.

He’s been here over a week. Probably the longest he’s been away from his duties as General Commander… ever. She knows it’ll end soon, which is why she is forcing herself not to let him share the emotional burden. Sure, he can love them and he’s been a great help with the boys these past few days, but she is the primary parent and caregiver.

The timer on the locked gate to the nursery finally ticks four and swings open; she is the first through it and to the door. Nicky sees her first and runs to hug her. She bends down and catches him, then Avery and Ollie follow, all of them laughing through their chatter and blissfully, blissfully, normal-temperature.

“I missed you three,” she says to them, a bit muffled as she drops a kiss on the top of Avery’s head.

“Where’s Appa?” Nicky says.

“I missed you, Ava.”

“I missed you too, Ollie!”

“Where’s Appa?” Nicky asks again, more insistent, squirming out of Nesta’s grasp.

She lets them go. “At home. Come on, let’s go.”

They held hands as they walked, Avery and Nicky on either side of her, and Ollie holding Avery’s hand. She’s more tuned into their conversation than normal, having missed the sound of their little voices together.

She’s so engrossed in them, watching them, she doesn’t notice Cassian before them until Nicky calls his name and breaks free from her, running and leaping into his arms.

“Hi,” she says to him when they get closer.

“Hi,” he says, putting Nicky down and taking hold of Ollie. “I didn’t realize you had already picked them up.”

“I missed them,” she says. Oddly, she feels a little guilty. “I was bringing them straight home.” It’s not stealing his time from them, but it feels that way.

But he grins easily. “Straight home?”

“I want to go to the park!”

“I also!”

“Home first,” Nesta says firmly, ducking her face into her coat and fiddling with the buttons. “We’ll go later.”

“Mummy’s rules,” Cassian says to them, looking down.

“I’m hungry.”

“We’re almost home,” she says, picking up her face now the burning has faded. “Come along.”

Cassian moves closer to her. “Could we have dinner together? Tonight?” His voice is low enough that she knows only she can hear it.

Her throat tightens. She doesn’t open her mouth for a few moments, afraid of what she might say.

“Sure.”

---

November 14 - 1 year after

Somehow word had gotten around, in this tiny, gossiping town, and by the time Nesta came back to her room at the inn, everyone knew she was pregnant.

Brilliant. Perfect.

They were being whatever their definition of tactful was, she knew. Which wasn’t very impressive. But she could hardly blame them, could she? She imagined a pregnant, Other female from Prythian was hardly something that shook the rumor mills of Sugar Valley every day.

No one was malignant. No one said much of anything, really—not to her, at least. But everyone at the bookstore smiled at her more often. Zeyn kept offering her water. Miri had urged her to sit while she sorted the books—here, she’d be happy to help!

The healer, Amorette, was competent enough. She had explained her options to her, which weren’t anything novel. She could either terminate the pregnancy or give the child away to someone else.

She couldn’t have the thing herself. That much was clear.

And so Nesta wasn’t particularly worried. This was unfortunate, sure. And emotionally disturbing and physically a nuisance. But nothing to write home about.

She should write… to her sisters. In general. Not about this, of course. This was nothing. This was… not her child. And so not their business, as it was barely hers. Either all this would be over in a week, or she’d be carrying someone else’s child, and that didn’t concern her sisters.

It certainly didn’t concern Cassian. This was… no. No reason to say anything.

She didn’t want other people’s opinions getting in the way of her own, after all. She needed a quiet room to keep a clear mind and make her choice.

Her room in the inn was nearly silent. The only noise was the scraping sound her nail made as she ran it over the coin.

Because that, it appeared, was what it would come down to. A coin toss.

Would she spend the next nine months creating life? Building a whole new person, half herself, half… Illyrian? With dark hazel eyes and wings and curls like hers and maybe some warm brown skin, the shade between theirs...?

Or would she… move on?

Yes, that was a nice way to put it.

She shut her eyes tight, ridding the image of a child from her mind by counting upwards by seven. It was too much. Little hands, little toes, little… kicks… inside her.

And that nearly made her decision. Pregnancy was gruesome. She didn’t want that. A whole other person inside of her she had to take care of? Clearly, Nesta wasn’t even good at being around people next to her. For just a few hours a day. She couldn’t do this.

And then… for what? For giving it away?

Of course, she told herself immediately. You can’t be a mother.

That much was true. Certainly not alone. It took a village, didn’t it? And while Nesta did stay in this small town, well… she didn’t really have it, did she? And she didn’t have… anyone. To be with.

Coward, a voice inside her head jeered. She ignored it. She didn’t owe this to Cassian. She was—hurt. And angry. He didn’t need to be privy to any of this.

She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t be a mother alone. She probably couldn’t be a mother ever. She was broken inside. She thought she wasn’t, for a while… that he had helped her get fixed… but no matter. She would go to Dadashov, schedule an appointment, and… all would be done.

A few weeks, at most. She would go through the procedure, spend a few days at home, and then go back to the bookshop. Continue her new, quiet life as an archivist.

---

December 6 - Year of

Cassian knew he had his work cut out for him this time.

He had to be smart. He couldn’t sneak up on her like he had at Emerie’s shop—that was miserable. But he also couldn’t give her too much time to… well… run away. But after nearly a week in one of the rebelling camps, with his days occupied with strategy alongside Rhys and his nights taken up only by her image in his eye, he felt he knew what to do.

He waited until an hour they both knew she would be home and awake. Too late to be working, too early to be asleep. He made no effort to hide his steps to the house, and made enough noise as he could while still in the realm of conceivability while opening the door. He did so slower than usual, giving her ample time to hide in her room.

He didn’t let the unmoved chocolate bar on the kitchen counter deter him as he made his way to her door.

He knocked twice, and said—cheerfully, normally, “Hey, Nesta. I’m back!”

And then he waited.

He could practically feel her incredulous look through the door—she thought he was stupid, she thought he must be joking—but all that didn’t matter, because she opened the door.

“Hello,” she said carefully, her face devoid of any real emotion. That same detached politeness they had shared last week; as if they were neighbors and he had knocked on her door to ask for a cup of sugar.

“How was your week?” He could feel her bemusement in his bones, along with slight suspicion. But ever the cards-player, Nesta’s face betrayed nothing.

“All right. And yours?”

“Long,” he said, grinning. “I’m exhausted. Join me for dinner tomorrow?”

This threw her off-guard, and she narrowed her eyes a touch. “Sure,” she said.

Sure. A resounding success, he thought. Now she would be there. All he had to was not fuck it up.

---

November 5 - 4 years after

Perhaps they had not had enough running around time today at nursery, Nesta thinks as she watches the triplets run themselves ragged at the park. Or they’re just excited to be playing together again.

“Good to see them all together, isn’t it?” Cassian marvels, throwing himself on the bench next to her, echoing her thoughts.

She nods and doesn’t say anything else. He sits with her for another few minutes, until he joins the triplets again and she watches them until the sun has nearly set, and calls them to walk back home.

“We were having so much fun at the park, Mummy, do you remember?”

“Yes, Nicky,” she says, unbuttoning his coat as Cassian herds Avery and Ollie inside. “It was seven minutes ago.”

“I had so much fun!”

“I’m glad. Take off your boots. Ollie, you too.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are. Upstairs, let’s go.”

“I can give them their bath,” Cassian says. “Why don’t you get started on dinner?”

Nesta glances upstairs to wear the children are climbing together. “Sure,” she says, and turns to the kitchen.

Cassian always eats at least twice what she does, so she prepares four times what she would for herself. She works quickly and sets the pot to keep warm on the stove when she’s done, and goes upstairs to the children’s room.

She hears them laughing before she enters the room. Pushing the door untill it’s slightly ajar, she leans against the wall and watches them. He’s wrestling all three of them, with Nicky latched onto his neck from behind, and Avery and Ollie on either arm. They’re so… like him, she thinks. Avery and Ollie’s eyes, Nicky’s hair. And their wings. How had she ever managed to look at them and think they were all hers?

It scares her and she’s not even sure she likes it. But there’s no more denying it: he’s a part of them. Just as much as she is.

He catches her standing there and grins at her. “All right,” he says. “Time for bed.”

They tuck them all in, and Nesta starts on the story Ollie chooses, but they’re all asleep before she finishes, truly beat from their time at the park. She and Cassian creep out together, careful not to stir them.

Cassian pours her a glass of wine in the kitchen as she ladles out dinner. She takes a large swallow before she says, “Now what’s this about?”

He laughs. “Don’t fear the worst. It’s not the end of the world.” But his smile fades. “I… have to go back tomorrow.”

Something inside Nesta sinks. “You’ve been here long,” she says.

“Not long enough,” he replies. “And I’m going to come back as soon as I can. You know that. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” she says truthfully.

He relaxes for a moment. Then he tenses and says, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow as she takes a bite of pasta.

“I want you to think about coming over for Solstice. To Velaris.”

Nesta cocks her head. Lets out a dark laugh. “You…cannot be serious.”

“Just think about it,” he says, raising his hands. “And really think about it. I know you… I know how you feel about Rhys and Mor. But they’d love them, if you’d let them. And they really want to. And your sisters,” he adds, and she does appreciate that he pretends not to see her flinch. “They miss them. And you. Just… think about it. Sleep on it.” He swallows his own forkful of pasta, then he says, “How are things at the store?”

Which is kind of him, she supposes. Or… perhaps kind is not the right word. But she likes that he approaches the topic and then switches to one she is more comfortable with without making her respond. “Not the best,” she admits. “Adil and Miri came back. No brilliant authors just yet.”

“Have you signed anyone?”

“Three,” she says. “Two from Leyla and one from Maz.” She rolls her eyes. “As if Maz’s author is going to be any good.”

“Zeyn’s not back yet?” he asks casually.

“No,” she says, keeping her voice even.

She’s not gone so long without talking to him since she moved here. It’s jarring. She feels she’s done something wrong, even though she knows she hasn’t.

“Well, maybe he’s got ten authors in tow.”

Nesta scoffs. “You sound like Adil. He’s being so weird about it all.” Although, privately, Nesta wonders if she’d be the same if not for Cassian’s money.

“I really don’t want to see anything happen to this shop,” she says suddenly. “Adil was… he helped with all of this, you know.”

“I know,” he says, nodding solemnly. “I owe him so much.”

He had truly taken her in his care; giving her that job, helping her buy the house. She hates seeing him so stressed over this.

Perhaps, she thinks wryly, he would like her to go to Velaris. See if she can find some authors there.

She's still too upset with her sisters to know if she’d go there right now for them. But she’d definitely go for Adil.

---

November 15 - 1 year after

The quiet of the bookstore was not the bliss she once might have wanted; it is—she cringed as she thought the word—pregnant. She knew they were all awkwardly tiptoeing around her, unsure of what to say.

“Nesta,” Zeyn said, approaching her for the umpteenth time that day.

“I’ve said I don’t want tea, Zeyn,” she said through gritted teeth. Really. Courtesy was one thing, but Nesta never liked hovering. No one liked hovering.

He laughed. “No, I know. I guess I’m annoying you.”

“No, of course not,” she said flatly, making him laugh again.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… you probably know how fast the rumor mill turns here. And. Well. We’re… the whole shop, we’re here for you.”

Nesta restrained a roll of her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. As if no one had ever been pregnant before. “But I think I’ll be fine.”

“Of course. Just, you know. You think you’re alone here, but you’re not. We’re a community.”

Nesta picked her head up from the book she was spining. She narrowed her eyes a bit, taking in his earnest expression. The slight nervousness alongside the warmth in his brown eyes. “Thank you,” she said again, more easily this time.

He grinned. “Can I… I mean, you’re probably. Well. Would you like me to show you around Sugar Valley? Have you been to Jamal’s?”

“No,” she said, vaguely aware that he was talking about a diner, and then very aware that he was asking to take her out to dinner. “But I won’t be able to go out any time soon,” she said hurriedly. “I’m very busy.” She snapped her book shut and turned without waiting to hear anything else, walking briskly to the back room. She gave no sign she heard his “oh, all right, another time, then!” as she left.

Neighborly pleasantries were one thing. Agreeing to go to dinner with a male was quite another. She wasn’t nearly there yet.

---

December 7 - Year of

Emerie nodded slightly to Nesta as she walked in the door, in their typical morning greeting.

Nesta didn’t nod back today. Instead she said, “I’ve agreed to have dinner with him.”

Emerie’s lips parted slightly. “Oh,” she said, after a beat of silence.

Nesta glared as she forcefully took off her cloak. “That’s all you have to say?”

She blinked. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta gritted. “Something useful, perhaps?”

Emerie’s lips quirked upwards a bit, while squinting her eyes, which Nesta very much didn’t like. Her sister’s looked at her like that, whenever they weren’t taking her seriously. “Well, why did you agree to dinner?”

“I don’t know. He asked. It was… strange. It was cordial.”

“You like cordial.”

“It was fake cordial.”

“You’re fake cordial.”

“That’s not how I want to live my personal life.”

“He’s a part of your personal life?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, pulling some folded climbing pants off a shelf to re-fold. She was very skilled in hiding her emotions and managed to keep her face turning the burning crimson her heart was trying to color, with the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks.

“Are you scared of him?”

When Nesta picked her head up a minute later, Emerie was still looking at her expectantly. “No,” she said finally, unsure of if it even counted as a lie or not.

Emerie was quiet for a few minutes, too. Then she said, “Just… remember what I told you. About my… cousin.” When Nesta didn’t acknowledge her, she said, “I hated him for not fighting for me. But… not enough to wish him dead. And now he is.”

Nesta bit back her Yes, I remember your riveting tragedy, because she liked Emerie and she did feel for her. Emerie was perhaps the only person alive whom she could stand right now. Instead she said, “If we’re smart, we’ll start selling light wear next month. Others will start in February. We should be ahead.”

And the day passed as slowly as she could stretch it, painstakingly laying out the details for every day of sales for the next six weeks, but evening fell before long, and since she made the mistake of telling Emerie about her dinner plans, she kicked her out before the sun had truly set.

She took her time walking back, going as slowly as she could without truly terrifying the young Illyrian female walking hand in hand with a child. Nesta wasn't sure if it was her own. The pair walked in front of her, and the girl kept turning her head, discreetly trying to tell if Nesta was still there. Following her. Hunting her, perhaps. The thought made her scoff.

Other girls had always been intimidated by her, she thought. Even when she wasn’t trying to make them feel so. Elain once told her she stood too straight and narrowed her eyes too much.

But she couldn’t help it, even when she was very young. It was just her natural posture, her face. Up until now, she had been perfectly pleased with everyone steering clear of her, but now it was ridiculous. She’d never killed anyone.

The walk was not long enough and Nesta found herself standing in front of Cassian’s house. She gave herself a few moments of lingering outside before forcing herself to go in.

“Good evening,” she said as she walked in the kitchen, stiffly, in that same odd tone they had used yesterday.

He looked up from the pot he was stirring and grinned at her—wholly unlike anything from their exchange yesterday. “Hi, Nesta.”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Sit down,” he said cheerfully. “Please. I’m just about done.”

“All right,” she mumbled, sitting at the table. He set it. With… mats. She didn’t even know he had mats.

“Here we are,” he said, bringing over two dishes. She narrowed her eyes when she saw them. Duck and a sweet potato casserole. He was clearly trying to get in her good graces.

But what was this new tactic he’s using?

He took her plate and scooped too much food onto it; she’d never be able to eat that much. But she took it from him anyway. He poured her a glass of water.

This was too odd.

“How was your week?” he asked her.

“Fine,” she said after a beat. “Yours?” She stabbed some of the duck with her fork and twirled it.

“Long, as I said.” His expression turned more serious. “And I didn’t like how we left things.”

Nesta froze. This was not fake cordial. This was entirely too confrontational.

“I know you won’t forgive me any time soon, but can you let me try and make it up to you?”

She wanted the earth to swallow her up or some bird to crash into the house and carry her away—some Illyrian, maybe. The hope and sadness on his face was entirely too real, disorientingly different than what she was expecting and had prepared for.

Her eyes darted around the room—then at her own hand when he covered it with his.

“I’m really going to try, Nesta,” he said, voice low.

“Try what?” she said, finally finding her voice. It didn’t sound as scared as she felt, which she considered a win.

“To do right by you,” he said.

Nesta’s eyes dropped from his face back to their hands. He still hadn’t let her go.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she said in a small voice, “How?”

Here he grinned again. “We can start with dinner.” He took his hand back and began to eat, watching her intently.

After a few seconds, Nesta did too, trying the duck. Lemony, which she wasn’t expecting, but… she liked it.

He could tell. She looked at him and she knew he could tell.

---

hey guys!

first i want to say i hope you're all keeping safe. i know it can be hard to stay in your home--work, necessities, just cabin fever--but it's so important. for your safety and your weaker loved ones and even young and healthy people because actually, we are not immune.

i have been thinking about you guys. i really hope this fic has managed to give you a bit of escapism, or comfort, or anything to take your mind off the trauma of day-to-day life in a global crisis. i really am going to try to update much faster to do the smallest thing i can to maybe make someone just a bit happier in these rough times.

lastly, i want to say to those of you who mostly read fic: write some! even if it's horrible and you don't want to share it with anyone ever! with so little we can do safely (my country has restricted movement; no one is allowed 100 meters away from their house), creating is one of the few active, productive things left. so write. or draw. something that isn't passive enjoyment. keeps your soul healthy.

i love you guys. stay safe. stay healthy. stay home.

---

Chapter Thirteen

#like pristine glass #nessian au #nesta archeron #acotar au #acotar fic #y'all. so happy to get this out there.#AHHHHHHHHHH the world's just...so different. from last time i posted #we all gotta find some way to stay sane #this is a good way for me to do that i think #normally i ramble about the chapter in the tags but now it's just like....ahhhhhhhh where is my head????#i'll shut up and post this now lol

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