#rhysand x original female character

[myloversthesunrise]

the starless mermaid [i]

FAR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.

AO3

Author's Note: helloo this is my attempt of rewriting ACOTAR with my OC insert, and this is set before the ACOTAR book. if you read my previous series, this is a rewritten version of it and the past version will be discontinued. i hope you'll enjoy it and thank you for sticking by me!

trigger warnings: kidnapping, death by decapitation

Mothers are always right, they say.

Lin supposed it extended to grandmothers and other maternal roles too, though she would rather choke on a Mala soup than admit it out loud to her grandmother.

It was ridiculous how Lin was proven to be wrong during the first and only time she stood up to her grandmother’s words.

Everyone in the village hadn’t called her Scaredy Lin for no reason. Her friends had always rolled their eyes every time Lin meekly denied their invitations to stay out late or sneak away while every parent and elderly gushed at her obedience.

But deep down inside, Lin wished she would have more time with her friends. Sometimes she could hear their laughter as they passed by her cottage and stalked deep into the woods that lie nearby. She knew Ah Ma noticed her longing stares, but her grandmother did nothing but nudge her softly to remind her of the current task at hand.

“The woods aren’t safe after dark,” she chided gently. “You’ll understand one day.”

Her small village was deep in the mountain and surrounded by forests. Some say faeries still remain within the woods, some say ancient magic lurks in there, a trouble waiting to be discovered. Lin had preferred the more rational reasonings of wild animals that roam freely in the woods.

But her friends had never been in any danger. The next day, she would see them in perfect condition—not a single hair missing from their head nor even a scratch on their skin.

So why was she not allowed to go?

The wagon—she had assumed she was on one—rode over a large rock and shook violently, causing her to bounce and hit her head against the chest she was locked in.

It must’ve been hours, she winced internally.

How far is she going?

The darkness and the constant swaying of the wagon had brought motion sickness upon her stomach, and as more minutes passed by, Lin could feel herself getting more and more nauseous. Her hands began to clam up and her body began to sweat profusely. She had to do everything in her power not to throw up inside the damn chest and lie upon her own puke.

Lin clenched her hands into fists and dug her nails deep into her palm. Her mind traveled back into her memory where she had left off before the damn rock interrupted her.

That afternoon, Ah Ma gave her a break from helping at the clinic and Lin didn’t waste the rare chance she had to spend some time with her friends.

Charlotte—daughter of their village headman—had invited Lin to a small gathering she would be having in the forest. Lin had a feeling the invitation would not be extended to her had she wasn’t there to have lunch with them. All the invitations and solicitation for her had died out after they realized it would be easier to fight a bear barehanded rather than have Ruo Lan allow Lin to go out after dark.

Lin’s shoulders fell in disappointment and she tried to mask her sadness with a grin—although she was sure it came out more as a grimace. “I’ll try to ask my grandmother later.”

Lin appreciated how everybody nodded and played along even though they already knew the answer.

A warm hand placed itself upon hers, and Lin’s dark brown eyes met Akane’s.

Akane. Beautiful, graceful, Akane. A few years older than her. Skin as lustrous as a pearl. Soft brown hair that stopped below her ears. A smile that could melt anyone into her will.

They both have dark brown eyes, yet Akane’s eyes always shone with warmth like sunshine on a winter afternoon, unlike Lin’s dark brown eyes which were a few shades too dark and always made people feel like she had been glaring at them.

If people in the village adored Lin as a daughter, they had adored Akane as a beauty.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Akane gently reminded her. “But we would greatly appreciate having you there.”

Her stunning brown eyes stared into Lin’s dark ones and she immediately lost her words.

“Plus,” she continued with a mischiveous grin. “It’d be more fun to have you there.”

Akane’s pretty brown eyes twinkled with mischief—like she knew something Lin didn’t—and her smile was so pretty that Lin held back her breath.

That was all that it took for Lin to agree.

She did not bother to ask Ah Ma for a permission—she had already known the answer.

After her grandmother went inside her room, Lin waited for an hour and a half until she no longer heard any movement inside. She snuck out through their back door—right by the kitchen—and walked down a small path that leads into the woods.

The old, rickety cottage was the furthest one from their village, so it did not take her long to finally enter the woods, only accompanied by a small kerosene lantern that she had hidden behind their cottage beforehand.

There was a well by the forest, only a few meters into it. It had been here before the village was built yet villagers have never used it.

Faerie-made, they said. Nothing good comes out of it.

She did not think how strange it was for Akane not to be there even though Lin was late into their meeting. Lin had not paid attention how quiet the forest was that night, no crickets nor any other animals made their sound. All the thoughts inside her head was filled with “What ifs” and the nerves of her body was filled with the excitement of sneaking out of her curfew for the first time in her life.

The young woman heard was a snap of a twig before her head was hit by a blunt force and darkness clouded her vision.

And then she woke up tied inside an empty chest.

Waking up without being able to see anything and tied up with her body tucked into a fetal position had sent Lin into a crying, sobbing, hysterical fit. Only after choking on her own saliva, Lin had realized that it would be better for her health and respiratory system to stay calm and distract herself.

Lin tried to think of things that would calm her down, and her mind instantly drifted to her grandmother.

Of all the times in my life to get kidnapped, Lin cursed in her head. It just had to be for the first time I snuck out.

She would never hear the end of this from Ah Ma.

Ruo Lan was a stern woman. She was strict with her rules and cheap with her praises. Despite never raising a hand towards Lin, she had always obeyed her words and sought her approval and kind words so desperately.

Her grandmother had always done all the heavy lifting in their cottage and only let Lin start helping her when she was thirteen, yet Lin couldn’t help but worry for her grandmother who would sleep by the fireside when the night gets a bit colder and winced every time she stood up after sitting down for a long time.

Will she be alright? Lin’s train of thought continued as she bit her lip in worry. Who will help her and grab things from upstairs if she needed them? Who would help Ah Ma prepare for dinner?

Lin had worked herself up into another panic and quickly felt her stomach churn. She dug her nails deeper into her palm and chewed the inside of her bottom lip until she could taste a tang of blood inside her mouth, hoping the pain would stop her from throwing up.

Where are they taking her? What was her captor like? Would she be able to fight them off?

Lin had planned on what would happen. The wagon stops, her captor let her out and Lin kicks them in their crotch before running away.

Assuming that she could aim with her blindfold on.

But despite all of her thoughts and attempts to distract herself, there was one question that won’t stop running inside her head.

Why would someone kidnap a nobody like her? And who would do such a thing?

Her village was one of the smalles ones in the kingdom. To fastest road to Lin’s village from the nearby town is to pass through the forest that surrounds the entire village, filled with urban legends of monsters, ancient magic, and faerie horror. The journey alone takes three days through the unpaved road, and if they survive the mythical dangers of the forest, there was still the matter of wild animals and bandits.

The gears inside her head were working hard to the point Lin did not realize the wagon had already stopped until a few minutes later.

Fear and panic shot right through her. Lin tensed up her entire body and memorized her initial plan (kick them in the crotch then run) and waited for further movement.

The chest she was in was quite thick and well-proofed, Lin could barely hear anything but whispering and mumblings from outside. Not a moment later, a low creaking sound was heard, and Lin could feel people walking around the wagon and beginning to lift the weights inside it—judging by the swaying of it.

It went on for at least thirty minutes before the movements stopped and someone jumped off the wagon. The creaking sound went back—a sign that whoever it was had locked the wagon and climbed up the coachman seat before Lin could feel a hard jolt as the carriage began to move once more.

With her tied fists, Lin began to loudly hit on the chest she was trapped in. Her mouth was gagged but it didn’t stop her from attempting to scream or let out any noise to be heard. Using her tied legs, she stomped and kicked as hard as she could while regretting how she had frozen earlier when someone was on the wagon.

A few minutes later, the wagon stopped and Lin went still for a moment before she began to kick harder and scream louder through her gag. Her heart beat faster than a running stallion and she could’ve sworn it would jump out any moment from now.

She felt the wagon shift and realized that the coachman had left the carriage. The young woman stilled and strained her ears, and just as she had predicted, she could hear slow murmurs of a conversation.

Lin tried harder to listen to what they were saying, but before she could catch any words, the familiar creak had been heard once more and the wagon shifted.

A click-clack sound was heard from inside the chest, and Lin knew her captor was unlocking her chest.

She didn’t know that her heart could beat faster than it already did, but it could. Her palms were sweaty and she could feel it trembling in anxiety.

The chest opened with a loud creak, and fresh cold air brushed Lin in her face.

Before she could kick any crotches, her captor lifted her up by her upper arm and dragged her down the cart. Her eyes darted around in panic as she tried to take in her views the best she could.

Trees. Mountain air. No settlements or cabins or houses in sight at all.

She’s deep in the forest. But which forest?

Right at the edge of the wagon, her captor threw her onto the ground and Lin winced behind her gag.

Not wanting to lose momentum, she quickly got up on her knees and took a good look at her kidnapper.

Well.

Kidnappers.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of them both, her ‘captor’ was busy tidying up the cart while the ‘accomplice’—she assumed—was studying her intensely.

The moonlight broke through the tree canopies, shining its glow upon them. Not bright enough to allow Lin to see their faces clearly, but enough to see a pig’s tail growing out of one of their butt.

Lin could’ve sworn she forgot to breathe as her captor turned around and showed off his flat, pig snout to her.

Her head snapped to the accomplice that was still staring at her with his dark eyes, and her eyes finally adjusted enough to the dim lighting to see two pointy ears underneath his curls.

Faeries, she realized in horror. Worse. High Fae.

With wide eyes, she had scrambled back and away using her butt and her tied ankles, completely forgetting her original plans of crotch-kicking and opted to run away.

“Shut up ye’ wench,” a gruff voice snorted.

Lin hadn’t even realized she was screeching in terror until the Piggy Fae snapped at her. Her eyes met his and she began to wiggle away even faster.

“Ge’ back ‘ere!” the piglet cursed at her while pointing his finger as if scolding a naughty puppy.

Her face was wet, and without realizing it, Lin was crying.

What were they going to do to her? Torture her? Eat her? Or… worse?

His accomplice finally straightened up from where he casually stood against a tree with his arms folded on his chest—and began walking towards her.

Her silent cries had turned into loud sobbing and whimpering as he eventually grew closer and grabbed Lin by her upper arm—like her captor had done—and dragged her back to the clearing where they were from.

“Well, she’s in one piece, jus’ as promised.” The piglet explained while gesturing his hands towards Lin. “Wan’ tha’ other half of the paym’n nau.”

So the Piggy faerie was the accomplice and the High Fae is the captor?

Once the High Fae finished dragging Lin back to where they were, he turned his back from Lin.

“Of course,” he answered. His voice was smooth and clear, said with complete certainty. His back covered Lin’s peripheral vision of their interaction.

Lin saw him pulling out a sword and slashed the air with a disgusting schnick.

There was a short moment of silence, before a loud thud was heard.

Her dark eyes darted to the space between the High Faerie’s leg—where she saw the piglet’s head rolling around the ground like a dice on a gambling table before stopping right by his feet.

His eyes were wide open—and they were staring at Lin.

If Lin did not scream earlier, she definitely screamed now.

Her breath was shaking and her entire body was trembling from fear but unlike earlier, the young woman had frozen in place. It was like the sight of a headless body had taken away all of her will to fight.

Lin knew how pathetic she looked right there. Tears were running down her eyes and snot ran down her nose. She whimpering and sobbing like a child—but she couldn’t find herself to stop. Her heart was ready to jump out of her chest any time then and Lin was expecting herself to pass out from the unreleased adrenaline running through her—if that’s even possible.

The High Faerie put back his sword to his sheath and turned around to face Lin with an exasperated sigh.

“Please do not make my job any harder than it already is,” he complained as he walked past Lin to the tree where he had stood by earlier.

Lin silently watched as he grabbed a shovel that was leaning on the tree and began to walk around while stomping his feet. Once he deemed the ground was good enough for a grave, he started digging wordlessly.

The repeated and continuous movement he was doing somehow calmed her down, and her sobbing had stopped. Her breathing went back to normal and her head had cleared up.

If Lin’s change from sobbing into utter silence surprised him, the High Fae did not show it.

He didn’t even acknowledge her existence other his earlier remark.

Lin sat as still as a rock. She calmed her breathing and wiped away her snot and tears with her sleeves.

Slowly and steadily, her hands reached down to the binding that tied her ankles together.

Her eyes were trained on the High Fae, not daring to look away from him just for one moment. A part of her said that it was to keep her eyes on the enemy, but she knew that she couldn’t trust herself to not glance at the decapitated head and start having another fit.

He continued digging the grave—gods knew how many hours he would have to do so—with his back facing her.

The High Fae was wearing an armor, she noticed. Black. Nothing bulky, slim yet sturdy. A guard on duty, perhaps? Or an assassin?

Chill ran through Lin’s bone at the thought and she made a harder attempt of unknotting the ties, but it was hard to do so while keeping her eyes on the enemy.

No. Not an assassin, Lin thought.

An assassin would’ve killed her without bothering to kidnap her first.

The fae in front of her thrusted his shovel to the ground and straightened his back for a moment—causing Lin to froze from his sudden change of movement. She held her breath, hoping that he wouldn’t even remember her existence.

He took a deep, exhausted sigh before wiping the swear off his eyebrows. Without any moment longer, the High Fae grabbed his shovel back from where it stood and continued his job.

Lin waited for a few moments—to make sure that he was truly immersed by his duty—before taking her eyes off him for a second to glance at the knot on her ankles and finish unraveling it.

But that second was all it took.

By the time Lin had looked up, the half-dug grave in front of her was empty.

Her heart had dropped to her stomach, and before she could look around, a blunt force hit the back of her head and knocked her unconscious.

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The young woman was peacefully knocked out and curled up by her fireplace.

Her long black hair lied unraveled around her, reminding the faerie of a fair maiden in fairytales. Her cheeks were plump and her lips were small—but not thin—giving her a doll-like appearance.

Unlike her own, her ears were rounded. A human one.

The red-headed faerie noticed a small beauty mark above the right side of her lips.

The same one that Clythia had.

Amarantha jerked back from her niece, where she had knelt by the fireside and studied her niece like a bug under the magnifying glass.

The rumors were true, it seemed. Clythia’s daughter was indeed alive.

At first, Amarantha paid no attention to it. She had heard stories of survivors from Clythia’s entourage, but she had passed it off as lower servants and lesser Faeries. Until a new whisper began to flew from the Mortal Lands, of a black-haired girl with an uncanny resemblance to her late sister.

Still, the Lady Under the Mountain paid no attention to it, even though it nagged at the back of her mind. She had a court to run after all.

Yet, the whisper grew stronger and the story had spread. The young girl lived with her grandmother, a healer with mutilated ears and a scar across her right eye.

That was the moment her blood turned to ice and her fear took over her mind.

Amarantha immediately commanded her right hand to fetch the girl to her. Initially, she wanted to command Rhysand to make it a quick and swift mission, but if it were true that she was Clythia’s daughter…

No. She couldn’t risk her safety nor let Rhysand have a leverage over her. Clythia had died for her baby and Amarantha would not let everything Clythia had fought so hard for to waste.

It took them a week to fetch her—would’ve took Rhysand three days but beggars can’t be choosers, she supposed—and now the young woman was currently sleeping through Amarantha’s crisis.

Her curiosity took over and the High Faerie leaned forward once more to study her niece.

Amarantha noticed her round cheeks—flecked with old acne scars—and her smooth palm. The young girl’s chest rose up and down in steady beats. Her lips were slightly agape and her beauty mark above her lips had reminded her of her sister once more.

But this girl was not her sister.

Her sister would’ve realized she was being watched. She was strong and fierce and none of the softness her ‘daughter’ was.

The sight of her niece’s calm breathing and obliviousness towards what was happening around her angered redheaded faerie.

Her manicured hand grabbed the wine glass by the table and splashed it to the young woman’s face, causing her to wake up with a gasp.

“Wake up, you fool.” Amarantha sneered in anger.

No. She was not Clythia. Clythia would never sleep so easily in front of the enemy, nor would be so unprepared.

The young woman sat up. Her breathing was heavy and uneven and Amarantha could distinctly hear the soft groan that escaped her lips.

Clythia would never do that, she thought to herself. She’d bare her teeth and fought back without any hesitation. A small burst of hope began to grew inside Amarantha.

Perhaps it was all a rumor. A ghost story. And she could kill this girl in front of her, be done with it, and have a restful evening.

The young woman finally looked up to see a High Faerie glaring at her and immediately crawled back with fear shining in her eyes. Her shoulders were hunched in an attempt trying to make herself as small as possible and Amarantha sneered at the cowardice notion.

Their eyes met, and all hope that Amarantha had inside her had vanished into smoke.

Her eyes were dark, almost black. Too dark to be called brown.

But Amarantha knew those dark eyes would glitter like the night sky if she smiled. She knew the beauty mark above her right lip would wink at whoever was lucky enough to see it every time she laughed.

Just like hers.

She had seen them all. In her sister.

Amarantha had desperately wished that she might’ve been wrong.

Yet now that she was awake, there was no mistaking it.

She was Clythia’s daughter. Their curse. The one who unraveled their relationship, their hard work, their entire life, and even ended Clythia’s life.

Amarantha’s breathing grew even heavier. Her head spun and she could feel herself spiraling if she did not take control of herself soon.

The Lady Under the Mountain bared her teeth at her niece. “Do you know who I am?” She snarled. Her nails dug even deeper into her palm, causing a pain that she knew could focus on and stop herself from hyperventilating.

Lin did not trust her voice to be firm and steady, and she could only shook her head. She had thought she would cry and sob again like she had earlier, but it seemed that her tears have dried up and left her with dread and uneasiness and discomfort of being in a new environment instead of the terror that had filled her earlier.

A part of her suspected the decapitated head and seeing it happen right before her very eyes had something to do with it.

Lin carefully raised her eyes to study the faerie in front of her.

Unlike the earlier High Fae, this one was a woman. Her hair was red-gold and her eyes were pitch-black. She was beautiful and terrifying all the same.

The red-headed High Fae glowered at her wordless answer. Her eyebrows were furrowed in frustration as she glared at the ground and despite the dim-lighting by the fireplace, Lin noticed how she bit her bottom lip in concentration. She dragged her hands through her hair and Lin’s eyes followed after it, spotting the golden crown sat atop of her head.

A royalty? Lin’s heart skipped a beat and the gears in head began to turn. She pursed her lips in concentration.

Is she from the Autumn Court? But Lin remembered that the Autumn Court was a highly patriarchal court, and she highly doubted that they would let a woman wear a crown.

Amarantha cursed her recklessness. As soon as she heard the story, she demanded for the young woman to be brought in front of her. But now that she was actually here, Amarantha was at loss of what to do.

What was I expecting? She cursed herself.

Was she expecting her niece to stood up and raise her chin? Was she expecting her niece to be as dangerous as an unsharpened blade like her sister would? Was she expecting her niece to have the same sharp glint in her eyes as her sister had?

A voice inside her answered all those questions.

Yes. Yes. YES.

She wanted to see her sister, or at least a shadow or a reflection or a glint of it. She would’ve claimed her as her own, and raised her the way her sister would have raised her. She would’ve been her successor and the one to continue their glory after Amarantha was long gone.

But what she had was a poor imitation of her sister, and now the red-headed faerie’s plan—or lack of it—was ruined.

Amarantha could always throw her in jail, but the memory of her sister tugged her heartstrings and prevented her to do so. Making her niece into her ward was not an option either. She already had cracks inside her little empire—and having a half-mortal ward would not help her at all.

The Lady Under the Mountain plopped down on the settee and turned to stare at the young woman. Her hand were pinching her chin while being propped up by the armrest. Her dark eyes studied Lin like she was a puzzle she cannot solve.

Lin squirmed uncomfortably under her stare and tried to figure out where to keep her eyes on.

Her gaze darted around the room and studied it the best she could despite the settee in front of her covering the view.

They were sitting by a grand fire place. The settee in front of her was black decorated with gold swirls around it, companied by two other settees with the same coloring on its left and right side of it, creating a U-shape in front of the fire place.

Behind the settee and high up on the wall, Lin could see a black canopy hung against the wall and she guessed that there might be a bed underneath it.

To the right was a hallway, and to the left of where she was sitting—right across the hallway—was a the balcony. The glass door was nearly as tall as the ceiling of the room and was wide opened. Gentle breeze blew in, blowing the curtains in process and bringing in a scent of pine woods and the cold evening air.

The red-headed faerie snapped her fingers and Lin jumped as her head snapped towards her captor.

“Where is the bracelet?” She snapped.

Lin could’ve sworn she saw a slight tremble of the faerie’s hands, but she played it off as a trick of light from the burning fire place.

She licked her dry lips before answering. “What bracelet?” she replied with a hoarse voice.

She rolled her dark eyes at Lin. “The emerald one,” she emphasized on the word ‘emerald’ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Silver cuff, with small diamonds around it and an emerald in the center.”

Amarantha caught the recognition that flashed through the young woman’s eyes.

That bracelet was all-too-familiar with Lin. She had tried it multiple times when she was a mere child, playing princesses and pretending she was at a ball as she danced around her small cottage.

Until Ah Ma had sold it when Lin was eight years old and struck with high fever to buy her medicines.

Little Lin whom had not understand the situation had cried all night long at the loss of her favorite bracelet.

“My—my grandmother had sold it,” she stuttered in anxiety. “A long time ago, when I was eight.”

Lin turned her head to look at the High Fae, and saw her posture visibly relaxed as she leaned back against her chair.

“Then find it.”

Unlike early frantic she had, the High Fae was calm as she demanded Lin to find her bracelet. She did not yell at her the way Ah Ma’s patient had done when the wanted to be the first one to get treated—she merely stated it and ordered her to do it as if Lin was fetching water from the well beside her house.

“But—but how?” Lin gaped at her. “It was twelve years ago!”

Her victorious stare was replaced by a cold, scathing one.

“Either you find it,” she threatened as her pitch-black eyes glinted with malice, “Or your grandmother will pay for it with her life.”

Lin flinched under her remark.

Under the moonlight, the High Fae sat upon the settee like a queen on her throne. Her chin was raised high as she sat back in the settee and looked down upon her. Dark eyes pierced through Lin and her red-gold hair stumbled down from her shoulders and the moonlight shone against her crown.

She barely lifted a finger nor raised her voice, yet Lin felt like The High Fae was holding a knife against her throat.

Lin opened her mouth to argue—and closed it tight when she could not find herself any strong defense against the High Fae’s demands.

Amarantha sneered. She leaned forward and her graceful hands grabbed Lin by her jaw, gripping roughly.

“Let me tell you a story, child.” She growled while throwing Lin unto the floor—slamming her cheek against the floor in the process—and leaned forward to pour more wine inside her glass.

Lin tried her best to wince quietly before sitting up to her initial kneeling position.

The red-headed faerie rolled her eyes at her wincing and leaned back to her seat. She took a sip out of her wine, and spoke.

“Your grandmother is one of us.”

Her words felt like a punch to her gut, and Lin did not know where she got the strength to speak up, but somehow she choked up her words.

“No she’s not!” Lin protested and hoped she did not sound like a child. “My grandmother is human.”

Amarantha rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you wondered how she got those scars on her ears? Have you seen her age the way your people do?”

Lin’s heart dropped to her stomach.

When she was younger, Lin had asked about her grandmother’s scar once. It ran through her eye, blinding her permanently in her right eye and terrifying enough to scare anyone from bothering two women who lived alone. She answered that she had gotten it from a battle. She was a healer stationed to help injured soldiers and a raid had happened when she was there.

But when Lin asked about her ears, Ah Ma did not reply. In fact, she did not speak to Lin for the next few days until Lin cried out of guilt and apologized.

Afterward, Lin never mentioned Ah Ma’s ears to her again. But sometimes when Ah Ma wasn’t looking, Lin would accidentally study it.

It was rounded—yet jagged—like someone had cut through it. Rough scars ran through the top of it which confirmed Lin’s theory even further. Lin wondered what kind of battle Ah Ma went to that would have her ears mutilated so horribly.

Lin ignored the ache in her gut of realizing that the High Fae had a possibility to speak the truth and watched as the red-headed faerie took a sip from her wine before continuing her story.

“Ruo Lan was my servant, once.” Lin’s heart skipped a beat when the High Fae mentioned her grandmother’s name. “And she stole a lot more than that—not just the one bracelet I asked you about earlier.”

“After The Great Mortal War,” the faerie continued and piqued Lin’s interest. “Your grandmother grew restless, saying something about how she wanted to settle down and live out the rest of her life in peace.”

“I ignored her, assuming that it was a mere phase of hers and it’d pass soon.” Amarantha waved her hand to emphasize. “But one night, your grandmother ran away from me with a chest of my treasures.”

“Rumors had it that she took a newborn babe from a couple of mortals and ran off to have a secret little family, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it myself.”

Her grandmother had told Lin that her parents had died in the Great Mortal War.

“I could care less what she chose to do with her life,” she scowled. “What she did was an act of betrayal. She abandoned her master and ran away to chase her hopes and dreams.” The High Faerie rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I could’ve punished her for it, sentenced her to death.”

She turned her obsidian black eyes to stare at Lin’s dark ones.

“But she was a good servant, so I ignored her betrayal and opted to leave her alone with her fantasies of having a happy ending.”

“However,” She glared at Lin while the latter flinched under her stare and tried her best to stand her ground. “I would like my treasures back.”

Lin’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Growing up, Lin knew her grandmother did not have many jewels. One is the emerald bracelet the High Fae had demanded earlier, and the other one is a jade pendant. They had never lived lavishly either, barely earning enough to save up. If her grandmother had the luxury of selling those jewels, she had never shown it.

“But if my grandmother was the one who stole it,” Lin asked ever so softly and politely—as if not wanting to upset the High Faerie that could very much kill her with a swipe of her arm. “Then why did you take me instead of her?”

Lin saw a ghost smile on the faerie’s lips. She lifted up her wine glass as if raising a toast.

“A treasure for a treasure,” the faerie gloated with a triumphant glint in her eyes. “She took my treasure, and I took her treasure.”

Lin frowned and opened her lips to argue but before she could speak, the High Fae tutted at her while waving her index finger from side to side, as if scolding a naughty child.

“It’s either you stay here with me,” the faerie chided. “Or I take your grandmother’s life as a payment.”

Once again, Lin thought she would cry as soon as the faerie said those words, but all that was left was a terrible stomachache that happens when she was under a lot of pressure and chest pain coming from the stress.

She took in a long, shaky breath before speaking.

“If I stay here,” Lin asked with a trembling voice—as if she was one nudge away from tears. “Will you leave my grandmother alone?”

Her dark eyes met the faerie’s pitch-black ones. If Lin was going to give her life away, then she wanted to make sure that it would not be in vain. She did not care if the High Faerie was right and Ah Ma had lied to her during her entire life. Lin knew her grandmother loved her, and that was all that mattered. She wanted her grandmother to live out the rest of her life in peace.

Amarantha held her gaze and swore, “I promise.”

Lin’s gaze slowly faltered under her shark-like stare and she quietly nodded before bowing her head.

“I’ll stay.”

Her voice was only slightly louder than a whisper, but Amarantha had heard it nonetheless and curled her lips into a triumphant smirk.

“Swear it,” she demanded. “Bargain with me.”

The red-headed faerie held out her arm and Lin stared at it like a snake that was about to strike.

“Say it out loud after me,” the faerie commanded.

“In the place of my grandmother’s life, I am bargaining my own to forever be with my master until death separates us.”

Lin tried not to cringe at how the High Faerie addressed herself as her ‘master’.

But she had no choice.

So Lin raised her own hand to meet the snake’s bite and grasped it tight to mask her trembling hand.

“In the place of my grandmother’s life,” Lin denounced loudly to stop her voice from shaking. “I am bargaining my own to forever be with my master.”

Lin shook her hand with the High Fae’s.

“Until death separates us,” she swore.

When their hands shook, Lin had expected something to shift. Perhaps she would bear a mark of their bargain or something would feel different in the air.

Something.. magical.

But it felt like nothing, other than the fact she had sold her soul to a monster. It was a normal handshake with the price of her life.

She was almost disappointed. Almost.

“Aspen!” the red-headed faerie suddenly called out, causing Lin to jump.

Lin heard the sound of a door being opened and closed, proceeded by the sounds of footsteps.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

Lin’s head snapped towards the source of the sound and saw her first captor standing merely a few steps away by the fireside. His hands were folded behind his back a

Her first thought was beheading.

Her second thought was how she was going to be the next person to be beheaded.

Her third thought was if it was possible to run past two High Faes to jump off from the balcony and straight to her death.

Fortunately for Lin, it was all unnecessary.

‘Her Majesty’ nodded her chin towards Lin.

“Take her to the dungeon,” she commanded. “And make sure no one else knows of her existence.”

‘Aspen’ nodded, and walked towards Lin to grab her by the arm. Lin turned her head to protest to the red-headed High Fae, but before she could speak, the world around her shifted and twisted along with her stomach and she had to grip her hands in fist to hold in the content of her stomach.

But when her feet finally touched the ground (when did they start flying?), Lin knelt over and threw up.

Her throat ached, her stomach was in pain, her body was dripping in cold sweat, and she had never felt as disgusting as she did in that moment.

Lin didn’t have to look to know that her captor (the pig decapitator) was standing five feet away with a wince plastered on his face. “Why couldn’t you throw up in the bucket?” he complained.

Once she was sure she had nothing else to be let out, Lin wiped her mouth with her sleeves and took a few steps back from her puddle of puke.

Lin’s eyes hazily darted around and sure enough, there was a bucket siting one inch away from her mess.

“Here,” Aspen snapped and shoved a glass of water towards her and splashing the top of her dress in progress.

Lin did not care. She grabbed it and gargled a gulp of water inside her mouth to rinse the disgusting taste of her puke. Keeping it inside her mouth, she jumped over her puddle and grabbed the bucket before throwing it up inside it. Lin gulped, gargled, and threw it up and repeated the process until she was sure that her mouth had tasted back to normal.

“Thanks,” she mumbled while handing back her glass.

Aspen grunted and threw the glass back into where it took it from.

Usually, Lin’s nosiness would’ve made her look but she was too sick to care. Her hands gripped on the bar and breathed heavily, trying to collect herself.

Wait. Bar?

Lin opened her eyes and turned to look to where she was leaning on.

Sure enough, there was a bar. Bars, to be exact. As tall as the ceiling and completely covering the room behind it.

Aspen opened the door, grabbed her arm, and threw her inside one of the cells. Lin did not even have the energy to protest nor fight back.

Her bum fell on the floor and she watched helplessly as the faerie locked her jail cell with keys before pocketing it.

Not magic? She frowned in daze.

For so-called monsters born with magic running through their blood, they seemed awfully… human.

To her surprise, Aspen flicked his finger towards her puddle of vomit. Then, Lin watched as it slowly moved to the drain until there was nothing left of her mess.

But it didn’t stop there.

A closet opened itself and a mop accompanied with a bucket walked out. A few seconds later, a bottle of what she assumed to be a floor cleaner followed suit.

The bucket stopped under a faucet. Aspen flicked his fingers once more and it opened itself, pouring water inside the bucket followed by the floor cleaner, leaving a distinct smell of apple. The faucet turned itself off, the mop dipped into the bucket and began to clean the floor, especially the spot where she had vomited earlier. It squeezed the filthy water out by the drain, and floated towards the faucet where it was magically turned on again and began to rinse itself.

Not long, the mop floated back to the bucket and sneaked inside the cell adjacent to hers and began mopping it clean.

So they do have magic.

From the corner of her eyes, Aspen straightened up and Lin snapped her head towards his.

“Wait!” She cried out.

Aspen surprisingly turned and waited for her to have her words.

“I—” she stuttered. “How long will I be here?”

He shrugged. “Until the High Lady says the otherwise.”

High Lady?

“Will you remind her of my existence?” Lin carefully asked.

“If she’s in a good mood.”

Lin nodded. She supposed it was the best bargain she could get in this situation. Her eyes met his and she thanked him quietly. “For cleaning the floor,” she elaborated.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Aspen said matter-of-factly. “I hate winnowing in to the smell of puke and shit.”

If Lin was sober enough, she’d ask what he meant by ‘winnowing’, but her lingering nausea shut her up and rendered her weak.

The young woman sighed dejectedly before finding a corner of her cell and curling up against it.

Aspen took one long glance around the room before meeting Lin’s gaze once more.

“Try not to die before the High Lady visits you,” he asked.

Lin could’ve sworn she heard something about the “High Lady” blaming Aspen if it ever happened, but all the stress and shock finally came down upon her and she passed out cold before she could hear the rest of his sentence.

#the starless mermaid #my writing #rhysand x oc #rhysand x reader #rhysand x original female character

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either part 2

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[thank you for the love on part one, I’m so happy Azriel is getting the love he deserves!!!! This is another long one, another 6k. But I’ve learnt a new love for writing about him and i have so many ideas. This is a continuation and final part, part one here. Enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

The third time Azriel almost lost you, he was pretty sure he lost a part of himself.

They'd all gone into battle, knowing that Hybern had the numbers to match and the advantage. But they'd all gone to fight in spite of that.

It had took some time for you to get the boys to agree to let you fight- you'd trained and grew up with all three of them but this was fighting on another scale. Although, if they were going, there really wasn't much they could say to get you to stay.

You were clad in Illyrian leathers just like them, armed with weapons and power.

The first battle was over quicker than you'd anticipated. Hybern soldiers surrendered, Tarquin drowned them on land. You'd suffered little, only falling on bed exhausted by the end of the day. Sadly, you were sharing a tent with Cassian and Azriel. It was like you were young again, all sleeping in the same room. It was a habit you'd done when you were young- all looking out and protecting each other.

The only difference was that Cassian snored as he got older.

But the next battle was worse.

It was bigger than last. Hybern's forces had doubled, seemingly at of nowhere, cutting their forces apart.

It was chaos, everywhere. Every corner there was fighting and bleeding and dying. There was pain all around you. Pain you felt like it was your own.

You used all your power, as much as you could to kill and protect. From the corner of your eyes you could see Azriel fight. Your Azriel, weaving in and out of people. Your mate. He was alive. And that was all you cared about.

But you didn't realise how much you'd been pushing herself and draining your power. Every time you stopped, you swayed on your feet, stumbling.

One of Hyberns men came for you as you were crouched and you barley blocked with your sword, rolling onto your back and slashing his arm off.

Not before he landed a sword in your thigh.

It had been deep burning and you yelled, yanking it out. Even with the wound, you kept fighting and fighting your way through until you saw a blaze of red and a familiar cry.

Cassian.

He'd been run through.

It was easy to push past exhaustion and winnow to his side, killing the man who'd been near him and any others that had been close enough. You fall to your knees next to him. 'Cassian, you prick.'

'You kiss your mate with that mouth,' he gasped. He was the only one who knew about Az and the bond. The only one you'd allow to make jokes.

You look down to his wound and gaged. Mother above, his guts were hanging out. 'No, no, no, come on, big guy, you have to stand.'

He groaned. 'Yea, don't think I can do that, sweetheart,' his eyes, lulled back.

You slap him in the face. Perhaps you wouldn't have felt guilt if it weren't for the way his eyes widened. 'You know I hate being called that.'

He laughed as his stomach and all its contents heaved out. Ignoring the pain in you, you hold his stomach, keeping him together. 'I promised Nesta i'd look after her,' he said. 'Please look after her.'

'Do it yourself,' you groaned.

Finally, Azriel came to your side and picked Cassian up like it was nothing, flying him to the tents. If only you still had your wings, you could have done it, saved him quicker.

Then, you were thrown back into the battle. Covered in his blood and yours, you fought through them all, slashing and killing like it was nothing. Like you had no reason to bat an eyelash at anything happening.

Eventually, it ended, but you couldn't even concentrate on who won or how much you'd lost. Your head ached, your leg was tied up in a bloody bandage ripped from your clothes. But none of that mattered.

Cassian was in bed, healing slowly. But he would live, everyone could tell. Especially with the way he picked fights. He argued with Rhys about throwing himself into danger, him and Nesta appeared to be having words with their eyes. Even Mor and Feyre argued. You were the only one silent with Azriel in the back. Too exhausted to even open your mouth.

That night, you tied up your wounds and fell asleep without changing.

It only got worse.

Elain- Feyre's sister and the most precious- was stolen from Hybern. You had only agreed to go and save her with a few selected others because your mate was in that few selective others.

It hadn't escaped your notice how he looked at her, was watchful over her like he once was with you. You saw the tick in his jaw at the news she was gone. You knew that this was the reason you hadn't told him. Knowing that he deserved someone like her, better than you. Kind and hopeful. You weren't. So the only thing you could do was watch your mate find love in someone else.

And you'd do it grudgingly but happy for him.

Azriel had took of with her. You and your high lady fought, fought through ash arrows and everything.

'You should get out of her, y/n,' said Feyre.

You groaned as an arrow skimmed your shoulder. Another had already got your hip. 'If you try to order me out of here, i'll be really pissed off at you.'

'I don't care if it gets you out!' she snapped, arguing like a real sister would.

'Yea, well- I was never one to listen to Rhys either.'

And Azriel was gone. Everything was fine.

You and Feyre ran, ran even as Tamlin defended you, ran until-

An arrow hit you in the back, straight to one of your old wing scars.

You tumbled, rolling on the ground as it broke and imbedded in your back. You screamed, in spite of yourself.

'You have to fly,' someone was telling you. Or saying it in general, frankly you had no idea what was going on. 'You have to take her.'

You rolled onto your stomach, groaning and trying to get yourself up. There was blood running down your arm, how did that get there?

'Y'n.'

You groaned, 'Azriel. I can't fly.'

'I know, I know- i've got you.' He picked you up, arm under your legs and around your shoulders.

'Elian, Azriel-'

'Feyre has her,' he told you. He sounded angry. Or afraid. Somehow his emotions were very easy to mix up.

'Feyre isn't strong enough.'

'She'll have to be.'

'You should take them, Elian-'

'I don't give a fuck about Elian right now, y'n.'

Just like that, he took off with you in his arms and your blood raining down on the camp of Hybern. You could barley hear anything over the wind... but you could feel it.

Something had tugged painfully at the bond, throwing you into a scream. Something had happened to Azriel. You twisted in his arms, finding gashing claw marks in his back from one of the hounds that had chased them down. His face was bleached white in pain, his hold on you tight.

Glancing around, you could just see Feyre in a blur of people.

'Azriel-' you gasped. He was in pain, so much pain.

He didn't say anything, just squeezed you tighter and looking ahead, barking orders as Feyre flew for the first time in need, in desperation. You remembered what that was like, trusting your life in them. But Azriel's wings, they were bleeding out. You remembered the pain. You'd go through it every day to spare him a minute of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You and Azriel landed back in the camp in a blur of pain.

Even with him leaving a trail of blood, he managed to set you down like you were porcelain. You didn't cry out. You didn't yell for help. You threw his arm over your shoulder and supported him.

Nesta and Rhys rushed to Feyre.

You hated your brother for a long moment.

Elain wondered over, chained but whole.

Azriel moved from you, checking on Elian. You only managed to watch them as she kissed his cheek.

The pain came to you then. Your head, shoulder, back. You turned from the crowd of family. Elain moved to hug her sister, Rhys stayed at Feyre's side.

Thesan, someone you barley knew as more than a healer, came to you first but you pushed him away, pushed him to Azriel. 'His wings. Heal him, or i'll rip you to pieces.'

He didn't have to be told twice.

You stumbled your way to camp, to your little tent. You didn't share it with Cassian anymore as he was still healing and Azriel would be a while- needing healing of your own.

You collapsed on the bed, promising to look after yourself- just after your nap.

You were so fast asleep you didn’t even hear Azriel come in and sigh at the sight of you…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel was fighting when it happened. Specifically, when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

No, he wasn't completely healed. But he had to fight. He wouldn't push himself, he knew that would be stupid. But he wouldn't watch as everyone fought. As you fought. He'd hardly seen you. He knew your back would be in pain. He knew you'd be in pain and you were still fighting, so far from him and out of reach.

He was thinking of you when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

His soul sang it, his heart rose with it.

His shadows whispered it.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

y/n.

And the first thing he felt over the bond wasn't happiness or love. It was pain. It was death.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

In spite of the pain in his wings, how he'd been told not to fly, he did. He jumped into the skies, soaring over armies and dead to find you. He followed that pain, he followed the bond until he found you.

You, lying in your own blood. Again.

He fell next to you, his power eradicating anywhere near you. They dissovled, the ground cracked under him and his syphons shone in raw power.

'y/n?' he held your body, shaking you. Blood, so much. A sword had torn through your gut. 'Don't do this to me.'

Mate. Mate. Mate.

You cough, a thin stream of blood rolling from your lips. 'Azriel?'

'You're mine,' it was the first thing he could bring himself to say. 'You're my mate. Y/n. You have to hold on, ok? I'm gonna-gonna get you to safety.'

Something like a laugh escaped you, your body wracking with it. 'Of course, finally snaps for you as i'm dying.'

Snaps for you. Mate. Mate.

She knows, his shadows sung. She's known.

Azriel called out to Rhys in every way he could. 'We're gonna be fine. We're gonna be mates, y/n. You have to live, you understand?'

'Not really.' your eyes flutter shut.

'No!' he yelled, shaking you again.

'What's happened?' Rhysand landed next to him, blanking when he saw you in Azriel's arms, bleeding to death. How many times did this have to happen? How many times would you throw yourself into danger?

'She's my mate,' Azriel repeated. He tested it out loud, speaking it to the mother. How cruel was she? to give him this then try to take her away. Well, the mother wouldn't get that chance. Azriel would fight her if she tried to lay a hand on your life.

'What?' said Rhys.

'My mate,' he all but growled as Rhys got closer.

He put a hand on the back of Azriels neck, a hand on your head. 'We have to save her, Az.' he knew all about mating of course, knew that Azriel wanted nobody around her. But this was too save her. 'She's my sister too, the last sister I have. I care about her to.'

Azriel wanted to throw a thousand insults his way but refrained. If not because he was high lord, but also because you were dying.

They got you to safety, Azriel carrying you through to a tent.

'Y/n?!' Cassian rushed over, seeing you in his brothers arms, bleeding out and unresponsive.

Azriel pushed past him, setting you down on the bed. 'Get everyone, every healer now.' He had no idea who he was trying to demand, but he couldn’t watch this, couldn’t see you in.

You were still in your bed. Behind him, Feyre rushed to her mate, wrapping her arms around his torso as your brother stared at you in muted horror.

Azriel was leaning over you, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘She’s my mate.'

'What?' Said Cassian, ‘She told you?'

Azriel felt the world stop around him. Not did you know about the bond and hadn’t told him, you’d told someone else? Cassian? His hand stilled in brushing your hair back, his shadows coaxing you instead.

Rhysand spoke what Azriel wanted to scream. 'You knew?'

'She-She told me,'

Azriel had always had an iron fist control on his emotions, as relied on to be spy master, he had to. But his patience was hanging on by a thread. You were still bleeding out and nobody had come and Cassian knew. Cassian knew about his mate before he did.

His shadows caressed you and, leaving you in the coolness of their touch, he leapt up, marching around the bed toward him.

Rhys was quicker, a hand on Azriels chest to stop him. 'Calm, brother.'

'Calm?' He seethed. 'When-how long have you known?' He shouted.

Cassian breathed out, pushing his hair back . His wings were tucked in behind him. 'She told me, before she went under the mountain.'

Even Rhysand let him go, blowing out air and throwing his arms over his head as Feyre gasped.

Azriel stumbled, a hand to his chest. His shadows were divided between him and caring for you. 'Fifty years,' he gasped.

You’d known for fifty years- possibly longer and hadn’t said a word.

He was panicking, his breath escaping him. His shadows settled uneasy around him. And the only person who was capable of calming him was laying unconscious.

Thesan burst in, knowing the injured already and working on you quickly.

Azriel almost launched at him, just for touching you. The reasonable part of him knew he needed to touch to heal, but the part that was your mate wanted him dead.

Cassian held him back, physically.

Azriel glowered at him. 'I wouldn’t touch me if i were you, brother,' he practically spat the words.

Rhysand left Feyre with a kiss on her cheek, coming to Azriel who was looking over you on the other side. 'Az, you need to rest-you’re hurt, too, remember?'

He shook his head, staring down at you. Mother above you were pale, so pale. 'I-I can’t feel anything Rhys, I can’t feel her through the bond.'

'My sister is a fighter, she’ll make it through.'

Azriel scoffed. His shadows were caressing up and down your arm. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve ever cared about her like a brother.'

Rhysand inhaled sharply. This was just fear, he told himself. 'Azriel.'

'No,' he said, his finger brushing back your hair. 'You only care about her when she’s dying and all y/n does is worship you- ever since you were children.'

Cassian tried to advance, 'Azriel, you wouldn’t be saying any of this if y/n wasn’t hurt.'

He laughed, bitterly. 'No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have to. I’d bite my tongue. But your sister is dying and the last time you cared was the last time she almost died- it killed her to lose her wings and you were never there! And you teach your mate to fly right in front of her!'

Rhys growled. ‘Don’t bring my mate into this!'

‘You’ve brought mine into this!' He yelled. 'Everything she does is for you. Working for you. My mate followed you down to the mountain even when you didn’t care.'

'Of course I cared.'

'Then why did she feel so alone down there!'

‘How would you know, Azriel? You weren’t there!'

'Because I know her, bond or not. And you’ve been otherwise occupied.'

Cassian moved between the two, holding them apart. 'None of this matters to y/n does it.'

Azriel blankes them all, settling next to you. He vaguely heard Cassian send Rhysand and Feyre away. He felt him longer before he felt him leave.

And then all Azriel could feel, was you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You felt pain first. The steady thumping of it through your body. It started in your leg, numbing it. Then, her back ached- a familiar pain you'd felt before. It sent panic through you before you realised they can't take your wings twice.

Then, it was in your gut, stinging. Just the thought of moving was hurting- aching.

There was a coldness around you, draped over like shadows. Shadows...

That's when you felt the tug that you'd neglected to feel for more than half a century.

The bond. There was finally something tied to the other end.

The shadows around you must've known you were awake as they grew frantic around you.

You opened your eyes, slowly, afraid to what you may see. Afraid to the eyes you'll have to meet.

Azriel was sat on a chair next to you, bare chested with only bandages around him. Immediately, you were at a disadvantage. He was looking at you, dark eyes pouring into yours as his hands curled around shadows.

'What happened?' you asked.

'You were run through,' he said, voice wavering.

'Oh.'

'You're my mate.'

Your eyes flickered away, staring at your tent. 'Oh.'

'That's it?' he whispered. There was some heart-break tainting his voice. 'You're not gonna say something?'

You pulled the blanket over you, daring to move to sit up. He shifted, but his shadows helped you. 'What do you want me to say, Az?'

'Why did you tell Cassian and not me?' he asked. 'Why didn't you tell me, for fifty years?'

'It's-it's not a big deal.'

'Not a big deal?' he all but seethed. 'I'd say finding your mate is a pretty big thing, y/n. It's the person to spend the rest of your life with.'

'Can we not, do this now?' you winced, as the words left your mouth.

'You're right, maybe we should wait another fifty years to bring it up when you're dying.' you've never heard him be so cruel, you'd never even argued with him before this.

'I wasn't dying,' you mumbled.

He scoffed. 'You had an infected wound in your leg that you didn't tell anyone about. An ash arrow was imbedded in your back. Imbedded! You didn't see anyone about it and then- you run into battle and get yourself stabbed.'

'I didn't get myself stabbed!' you argued, your temper rising above all other judgment. 'I didn't rush out in there, wanting to die!'

'I held you as you bled out!' he yelled, standing up from his seat. You were swinging your legs over the bed, ignoring every twinge in your body. 'Do you have any idea what that's like? Not even to hold you as you die in my arms the first time but the second. And to know this time, I was holding my mate?'

You bit down on your lip. He had to use the word with such care and love even when angry. You could feel it. For once, guessing his emotions wasn't needed as you felt it all. The taunt anger in him, the pull of anxiety and above all else, the weight of his love.

Azriel walked around you. 'Please, you have to tell me. Why didn't you say something to me? Why wouldn't you tell me you're my mate? Am I that repulsive to you?'

'What?'

He gulped.

You shook your head as he knelt in front of you, shadows pooled around the two of you, as if they were trying to hold the two of you together. You took his hands, holding them and let something like love flow down the bond. 'You are the most beautiful thing in this world. Something better than me. I wouldn't burden you with that.'

He rose his gaze to you. 'Burden me?'

'Do you think i've enjoyed lying to you?' you ask, finally finding your words. 'Do you think I've liked being your mate and never being with you? That I left you for fifty years and thought of you every moment of every day, all day long. That when I come back I wonder if you or Mor had grown closer? Or if Elian would finally tell you how much she loves you? It's been eating me alive. But it's a small price to pay.'

Azriel grasped at his words, chocking on them. 'Elian is nothing to me, nothing.'

You pushed yourself up, using his shoulder to steady yourself before you move around him. 'Why? Have you only just decided that because I’m your mate? That’s not how it should go, Azriel.'

He was following you around your tent as you slipped on armour and leathers over your night dress. ‘I want you, only you.'

'Because of the bond?'

'Because I’ve always only wanted you!'

You laugh. 'No, you haven’t.'

'If we’d talked about this maybe fifty years ago you’d know that!'

You shook your head. Perhaps a part of you didn't want to believe him and all those wasted years at your fault, but you didn't want to believe his words either. Because what did that mean? That he loved you and wanted you. But that seemed just as impossible to you. How could he want someone so wrecked who'd done nothing but run away from her feelings and does nothing to make anyone happy?

'I don't want you to feel like that,' said Azriel, approaching her. She thought she'd spoken aloud before she realised he could feel everything that was hers. She'd only ever had to shield her thoughts from her brother- and he rarely sort her thoughts. 'Please, please-' he took your shoulders, turning you around and gently resting his head on yours.

You could feel his warm breath over your lips. You almost lost all resolve, with him that close. You'd never been so close to him, close enough to touch. To kiss. To know finally what it mean to have that deep connection that everyone was meant for.

One person in the whole world to belong to.

And he was stuck with her.

'Azriel-'

'Whatever you're thinking about yourself, i've thought about me a thousand times. And ever since we were kids you've always stopped me from thinking that. You've always told me what I was worth,' he whispered. His hands were wondering down your arms, sending shivers down you. He could've been doing it on purpose, distracting you. 'Why won't you accept it for yourself?'

You gulped down every uneasy thought. 'Because you're good, Az and i'm-'

'You're everything.'

'I'm not,' you look up at him, his own face blurry from your tears unwilling to fall. 'I'm not a fighter, i'm afraid of pain. And I could never be a leader, because i'm scared of losing people. I'm terrified about it half the time. Why do you think I followed Rhys down to that stupid party that I knew I wouldn't come back from? Because he'd do the same for me? We both know he wouldn't. But what would losing him mean for you? or Cass, or Mor? I was a coward and I wanted to hide from all the pain his leaving would have caused.'

Azriel shook his head, words sinking in. You were comparing yourself, to warriors like him and Cass, to the high lord- your own brother. 'It was unbearable without you. Maybe if it was just Rhysand i'd have still been able to be spymaster, because that's what he needed. But when I realised you'd gone to, it ruined me,' he admitted. 'I didn't care what you would've wanted, because you weren't here to tell me.'

You rub at your forehead, the tension creating a pain in your already aching body.

'And to anyone who made you feel inferior or worthless, i'll kill them,' he said. It was a shine of the real Azriel. The one who made a promise and never broke it.

You smirk. 'Can't kill the high lord.'

'No,' huffed Azriel, like it was a mild inconvenience. 'But I sure can punch him in the face.'

You laughed at that and Azriel smiled. He'd cracked you.

But your amusement dropped quickly, he felt it like a penny dropping. He let go of you as you turned away, wiping at your eyes. He didn't want to see you cry, didn't want to be the one to make you upset. He only wanted to make you feel loved.

'This isn't how I wanted this to go.'

Azriel suddenly felt conscious of himself. Maybe this wasn't so much about what you felt, maybe it was more about what you felt toward him. 'You really hate the mating bond that much?'

You look over to him. 'Being your mate is my greatest honour. But I don't want you to love me just because you have to.'

'It's not that-'

'And I know you're gonna keep saying that.'

'Until you believe me,' he assured her. 'Even if I have to tell you every day until I die.'

'I can't ask you to do that.'

He smiled at you, a heart-breaking smile of love. 'You haven't.'

You open your mouth to say something, but you're interrupted by Cassain poking his head through the tent flaps. The rest of his whole body was hidden, only showing his bronze face and hair framing him. There was a sheepish smile on his lips.

Azriel huffed. 'Cassian.'

'What? It didn't sound like much love making going on.'

'Mother above,' you sighed.

'What?' whined Cassian. 'I'm just saying, didn't sound like I was interrupting anything.'

'Personally I didn't know he was capable of saying that many words,' said another voice, familiar and dull. Nesta.

You frown. 'I'm sorry, is the whole camp out there.' You storm out, without Azriel to stop you.

He let you get away, again, and now there was no way he'd get you to accept the bond until the battle was done.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next time you and Azriel spoke, the war was over.

Elian had stabbed Hybern, Nesta had delivered the killing blow, to the head. And your brother had died.

For those few minutes of his death you wanted Feyre weep for him as you stood paralyzed, unable to move. This was the brother you worshiped, the one you’d follow to the end of the world. Did he know that when he went where you could not follow?

Feyre had done everything she could, she begged for his life back. And when her wish was granted, you were collapsing on his other side. Tears of joy in your eyes that Rhys wiped away.

Your family, safe.

Everyone seemed happy to return to Velaris. Home. Scars were left over everyone, fears and pains. Some wore them better than others.

You'd thrown yourself into life. And avoiding Azriel. Suddenly there were many friends you'd neglected that you needed to take dinner with, or so many spontaneous Rita nights with Nesta.

And none of it escaped his notice. The steady thump of the bond still thrived inside of you, his shadows followed everywhere you went, even loitering in your room.

If he was doing it in an attempt to annoy you, then you weren't gonna break first.

After a particularly harrowing Rita's night, the only thing you wanted to do was sleep in for the rest of the day, hide away from everyone and everything. Call it your coping mechanism.

Alas, there was no peace as your curtains were thrown open, light spilling in and burning through your eyelids.

'Knock it off!' the shadows had never bothered with waking you up before- it seemed they'd picked the worst time to start.

'We need to talk,' said a voice that certainly wasn't a shadow.

Rhysand.

You groan, rolling over. 'Can't you talk to me when i'm not hungover.'

'And when would that be, sister? you're getting as bad as Nesta.'

You throw your pillow off and at him, but he dodged it easily and with a smug smile. 'I hate it when you call me that.'

'What? When I compare you to Nesta? Clean up your act then.' He stood over your bed, his arms folded over his chest.

You glare at him. 'I meant sister.' You shuffled up, brushing your hair back.

Rhysand frowned and perched himself on the edge of your bed. There was something he wasn't saying, and you watched it weight heavy on his shoulders. 'You know the last time I was in your room you were throwing glasses at me and yelling at me to get out.'

'Well, don't give me ideas.'

His lips curled into a smile of amusement before he turned solemn again. 'Do you love me, y/n?'

You hadn't expected that. Your hangover could only get worse, your head swimming with possibilities as to why he was asking. And nervous, you were nervous. Maybe you'd never said you loved him out loud but surely your actions were enough of a tell. 'You're my high lord and my brother, of course.' you shrug it off, as if it was nothing.

The shadows trailed up the bed, as if sensing your anxiety.

Rhysand glanced over at you. 'Do you think I don't love you?'

You hesitate, chewing at the skin of your gum.

'Because I do. I do love you. You're my little sister, how can I not?' he muttered. 'And I didn't know you felt like that.'

'It was just sort of... obvious,' you said. 'I was never your sister, not really. I always knew that. You'd never see me like that so, I gave up thinking you would. But you're the only family I have.'

'No, I'm not,' he denied. 'Y/n, everyone in this house loves you. They're your family. And i'm sorry- i'm so sorry if my actions have ever made you think different.'

'Why now?' you ask, eyes screwed up looking at him. 'Why are you saying all this now, what's changed?'

He shook his head, strands of his hair- the same as yours- falling over his eyes. 'You almost died, died on that battlefield and I-I wasn't the first one there. Granted, it was your mate that reached you first but I, I wasn't there quick enough.'

You meet his gaze, his purple eyes sad in a way you'd only ever seen under the mountain. 'You died.'

'And as I was dying one of my deepest regrets was not calling you sister enough,' he shifted closer, taking your head in his hands as if you were a little kid. 'You are my sister. Full flesh and blood. Full love of mine. You are my family. After everything you've done for me. You were right, I needed you under there, when there was nothing good to keep me grounded, but you. My little sister.'

You were sure you were tearing up in front of him.

'You'll always be my sister.'

You laugh. 'Maybe I should get stabbed more often.'

'No,' he said seriously. 'I don't think Azriel would like that very much.'

The mention of him changed the tone in conversation, changed the very beating of your heart.

'What's going on with you two?'

'Oh, I see,' you tease, 'talk to me above sister and brotherly relations just to get in my love life. Not a good look on you high lord.'

He laughed. 'No, it's not that. I just care about the two of you, a lot. And you both deserve to be happy. And I think you'd be happiest with each other.'

You look down, twirling the rings on your fingers.

'Would it be so bad to try to love him?'

You shake your head, smiling as a tear rolls down your cheek. 'I don't even have to try. Feels like i've loved him forever.' his shadows climbed up your arm, leaving Rhysand to smile at the affection.

'You'll work it out,' said Rhys, leaning over and kissing the crown of your head.

Your door was thrown open, startling the two of you.

Azriel stood there. For his entrance, he didn't at all seem that confident when he stood in front of the two of you. His hands didn't know how to hold themselves in front of him.

Your brows rose. 'Were you listening at the door?'

'Azriel,' scolded Rhysand with a stupid grin.

'Get dressed,' he said simply to you. 'There's something you need to see.'

Without much room for argument, you kicked them both out and dressed.

You'd grudgingly let Azriel hold your hand as he led you through the woods. You'd winnowed in at an illyrian camp before he took you through it and into the woods close by.

It was the same camp you'd first met Azriel in. The oldest where you'd all become friends. You'd asked what you were doing there, but he was quiet as he led you through, helping you over roots or breaking twigs from the trees so they didn't hit you.

'Azriel, to any other girl, you leading her silently through a woods without saying anything would be a bit suspicious,' you tell him. His shadows trailed behind the two of you and his hand was secure in yours. You knew not to be scared, but you were still cautious.

'I wouldn't show any girl this,' he said.

After another half hour of walking, the two of you stumbled across a small hut. It was a tiny thing really, made out of twigs and sticks, hay and mud. It looked like something a child was capable of making.

Azriel paused in front of it. He let go of you hand and reached for the door. He was as tall as it and his wings had to tuck in tightly behind him.

Hesitantly, you followed in.

It was just as small as it looked and dirty, like it hadn't been touched in years. Cobwebs hung low (his shadows quickly tried to bat them all away for you) there was dirt and hay all over the floor. Glasses were dust filled and left around with a hundred other things. Some looked new, others old.

And yet, strangely familiar.

'I made this place,' said Azriel.

You looked back at him. He was hunched over a large box that was overflowing with things. 'You?'

'The first time my brothers picked on me, I came to these woods, working on this for days. Every time things got too much back then, i'd come here. I've been coming back for years.' he glanced at you, a sheepish look on his face. 'I've never showed anyone this before.'

You look around the place in new perspectives. The shadows settled around the place. You pictured a little Az, running here and hiding from his brothers. Did he feel alone? Did he feel un-loved? You were so enamoured by it you didn't realise he'd settled on the ground, pulling out things from his box.

'This is your glove, the one's you were wearing when we first met. You took them off to beat up some kid who was being mean to me. You didn't go back for them, you didn't even care.'

He said, pulling out a pair of red wool gloves. In spite of the hut, they were in perfect condition. Pristine. You remembered first meeting him, remembered the little soldier who'd been horrible. Those gloves wouldn't go anywhere near your hand now.

Azriel went in again. 'This is the empty glass jar of the cream you used to help my burns. Here's a book you read to me when I couldn't flip the pages myself. The notes you'd leave when you had to go back to camp. The flowers you picked for me and gave me for my birthday. Dried and stamped from every time you gave them to me.'

You stood, in shock as he kept taking things out.

'A terrible drawing I did of you when I was young. A locket of yours that broke and you never wore again. Stamps from our first theatre trip. Empty bottles from our first night together in Rita's- and Cassian's too. A letter you wrote to me when I was on a mission. A black ribbon from your hair, you used to always wear it with these things. Honestly, the amount I have in here,' and he pulled out several, of varying shades. Black, white, grey, red, dark green. All yours.

Azriel wasn't done. 'A page of annotations you did in one of Rhysand's books. A copy of your favourite poems. A coaster from the first time just you and I went to dinner. Here's some stones from when I first taught you to skim them. A quill that I used to use to write you letters. An old ring of yours is here too. Here's the first dagger you got me. It's too precious to me to be used to kill.'

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you watched him pull them all out and explain them in depth. There was more but the sight of it all was becoming blurred through your tears. The bond felt heavy and beautiful in you.

Azriel finally put the box down and fell to his knees in front of you. His hands came around the back of your thighs, holding you there as his eyes looked up into yours. 'Don't you ever think I don't love you, when I have loved you since we were eleven years old.'

You stutter on you breath. 'H-how?'

He rests his head on your stomach, looking utterly at your will and completely in love. 'How could I not?'

Slowly, as you could not move too fast, you settled down on your knees across from him. His hands moved up to your arms as yours went to his cheeks, brushing back his hair.

'It was always going to be you, wasn't it?' you mumbled. 'How could it be anyone else?'

Azriel kissed you then, finally. His lips were as soft as they'd looked, as you'd always imagined. His hands drifted to your waist, finger tips digging into to hold you close. His hands were strong, but his lips were gentle. He pulled away, only to groan in need before reaching for your lips again, harder, desperate.

His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, tongue sliding in to feel every corner of your mouth as his hands wondered around you, trying to grip onto any bit of you he could. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer. Close enough to consume, to breath in.

You pulled back enough to catch your breath, arms still around his shoulders. 'Mother above, am I gonna make you the best meal of your life.'

But that could wait. For now, you'd settle for a dusty floor in the little house in the woods.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist: @tothestarsandwhateverend @darlingbravebelle @lil-lupa @haileycannotcometothephantom @fairywriter-oracle @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @unleashthelion @naturakaashi @aurora1115 @sirens-and-moonflowers @azriels-shadowsinger @willowpains @crazylokonugget @abysshaven @anuttellaa @wishfulwithwine @one-big-fangirl @harrystylesfan2686 @charlotteintumbleland @mellowarcadefun @starseedsamurai

#azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #azriel x oc #azriel x elain #azriel x female!reader #azriel x original character #swifties

[stormhearty]

Death's Magic

Note: This is an idea that I’ve had for awhile, though the original idea had a merge with the World of Harry Potter, I thought it might have been better and easier to just keep it in the world of ACOTAR but change up a few things. please do forgive if I have some wrong information, I have only read up to ACOWAR. This scene is based on chapter 58-59 of A Court of Mist and Fury when Velaris was attacked by the Attor-like creatures. Also, I wrote this in Notion and decided to put it in Word to see how long it was — it was 5+ pages and I was like wow.

Summary: When the truth of your powers is revealed to your bonded mates, Eris and Rhysand, and your Court, histories are exposed, insecurities are talked about. But you know… all you know despite the navigating that your mates will always be with you.

Word Count: 3k

Triggers: death, fighting, insecurities

Parings: Eris x Death!Reader x Rhysand (feat. Night Court characters)

“You will never know how that child’s feels…” Armen growled, silver eyes glowing as she glared at the two lords that held her lady. Eyes shifted from the two males, that was bonded to the female that was at the center of everything, those silver eyes shifted from pure anger to something softer — something that was rarely seen with the ancient being. Eris brought you closer to his arms, as he watched Rhysand’s hand gently caress your brows, the two of them hoping you’d wake up to explain what had happened in the span of twenty-four hours.

It had been a long day for everyone in that room — the attack on Velaris by the Attor by Hybern, shook everyone to their core. None of them thought that the King would be able to break through the shields that surrounded the city; however, he did and almost plunged their home into destruction. Cassian and Azriel were barely able to winnow to the city on time to try to defend it. Mor had been away on official business while Armen was with Varian at the Autumn Court with Eris to try to convince Eris’ father to fight against Hybern. Velaris’ High Lord was on a search, attempting to find Myriam and Drakon to help with the looming threat that is Hybern. It had left the city vulnerable, the King believing it was an easy attempt to wipe out its growing enemy without its High Lord and protectors. However, it was futile, unaware of the shadow and darkness that lingered there — that you had stayed behind to quietly protect the city.

When you had been introduced by Armen to the Inner Circle, you were a person of mysterious origin — the Inner Circle very wary about you, for a very good reason. The only reason why you were able to stay in Valeris was because of Armen. She was able to find you a place to stay in the outskirts of the city, accompanying you to every Inner Circle meeting and staying by your side while you had adjusted to your new life. Whenever Rhysand had inquired about you — your history, your origin, you in general, Armen had become over-protective — silencing the Night Court Lord with just a glare.

“Her past is something I cannot share. She has her own darkness, that she has to hide to live with us in the light. Do not inquire anymore than you should. She is loyal, that is the only thing you should know about her,” was the only thing that Armen would ever share.

You had accompanied him and the Inner Circle — as the substitute of Armen when the ancient being was busy or reluctant of accompanying the group to another Court. You had been nothing but a whisp of shadow during those times, similar to Azriel, hiding within the shadows, watching over those who lived in the light.

One day when you had accompanied Rhysand to the Autumn Court to visit its High Lord. Another attempt to convince the Vanserra Lord to rally against Hybern. When the two of you had stepped into the massive throne room, you were greeted by the eldest Vanserra son. The three of you looked at one another before you felt a snap against your chest.

You pressed a gloved hand against your chest, it was an unusual feeling for you; however, you watched as the High Lord and the High Lord heir collapse onto their knees, feeling on how strong that snap was against their chest.

Brows furrowed as you watched them in confusion — their panting, and their equal amount of confusion as they looked at each other before turning to you, violet and amber eyes staring at you. Silence surrounded the three of you, and a heartbeat later, the two of them stood up, slowly surrounding you. Tilting your head up to look at the two, confusion still evident in your features, “… Are you two alright?” you voiced.

Apparently you had no idea what had just transpired, and the only thing that had to be said was, “… You are our mate…”

It had been a long, winding road for Eris and Rhysand to accept that they shared a mate. It was difficult… you rarely opened up to either of them, it was a slow tedious thing, and Eris was rarely available to grow the mating bond with you. The three of you had to meet in secret to ensure the safety of this bond. The bond had made both males over protective and Rhysand understood why Armen was so, over you. Both of them could feel the obscurity on your side of the bond, them understand that you had no idea what it had meant to be in a Cauldron-blessed bond. It took a lot on both their end to figure you out, open you up to the point you trusted them, and in turn, trust you.

By the time Rhysand had winnowed to the House of Wind where the Attor had been successful in infiltrating, the High Lord had found you — your delicate stature fighting against the Attor. Magic fighting against magic, anything that Attor tried to use against you would bounce off the glimmering shield of darkness that surrounds you. Rhysand watched you, your movement swift and smooth, much like the creature you fought; as if you were the wind itself, you were shadow itself. He felt the air move around him, feeling his brothers and the rest of the Inner Court arriving, watching the scene fold in front of them. Rhysand watched as Armen arrive with Varian in toe, eyes widening slightly as he saw Eris arrive along with them. Eris moved, fighting against the wind that swirled around the throne room towards the High Lord of Night Court, towards his mate. Eris placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder, a movement of support as they locked eyes for a moment before looking back at the fight — back to the third of their mating bond — towards you.

All of them watched as a slender hand reached above, magic pulsating around them as another wind of glimmer and darkness wafted through the air — growing wider and bigger. Rhysand watched as that shield surrounded not only him but his family and soon his whole home. Eyes looking out the window to see a swarm of Attor-like creatures, flying towards the open balcony, attempt to enter the House of Wind, only to be stopped by the barrier. The magic preventing the destruction of his home.

A high shrill scream returned his attention to the action, Rhysand’s body entering into fight mode. Violet eyes looked back at fight, watching as your figure was enshroud by a shadow, one that grew large until it was large enough to reach the ceiling of the throne room. Cloaked in black robes, hood drawn over its head — a creature much like the Attor itself, much like the Suriel, something similar to the Bone Carver in the Prison, to the Weaver in the Middle — but they knew that this creature was nothing like the previous, it was something darker… something more powerful. They watched as the shadow extended its hand, a hand — nothing but bone and tendon exposed, pointing its long bony finger towards the Attor, who had knelt on its knees, bony prominences pressed against the marble floor — panting, blood and sweat clinging onto its cloak as if it was apart of it. When that bony finger touched the top of its head, another scream tore from the Attor’s throat, its body disintegrating into nothing but ash.

The air stilled, and the shadow faded away, leaving your figure in its wake. Time seemed to pause as they watch you tilt your head slightly before turning their direction. When your eyes — dark as the night sky, dark as black locked eyes with him before drifting to Eris’ by his side. You had given them a soft smile, eyes squinting into crescents their names nothing but a whisper against your lips before you body collapsed onto the floor.

Eris was the first one to come out of the stupor, his body immediately running towards yours. He skidded onto his knees as he heaved your body into his arms, a hand against your cheek to try to wake you up. Rhysand was hot on his heels, kneeling on the other side of your figure, sharp talons against you mind, trying to probe through the darkness that had shrouded your mind.

That is where it landed you now. The Inner Court at the Townhouse, your body still in Eris’ arms as both High Lords tried to interrogate the ancient being to tell why you had not woken up. Armen did not tell them anything, her stubbornness tenfold when it came to you; but it was hesitant now, knowing that the males that held you would stop at anything to ensure your safety.

A heartbeat of silence surrounded the room before Armen sighed.

“I pray the Mother would forgive me…” she muttered before she steeled herself against the stares of her family, “(Y/N)… is a God Made into a High Fae. When I had escaped the Prison, she was standing outside, an empty shell. I didn’t know what kind of God she was but she was lost as I and, that, immediately made us stick to each other. I had adapted faster to this world that she did, and so I kept her hidden while I became part of this world — part of your Court. I looked, looked into books, looked into the past, talked with the Gods of Old in the Prison to find out what she was…”

Eyes looked from Rhysand and Eris, to your form that was resting soundly in their arms.

“… She is Death itself. Death reincarnate. The Bone Carver, the Attor, the Suriel all made in her likeness… or what she used to be. The reason why she couldn’t… assimilate easily as I do was because she was never even part of this world originally. And so when that bond snapped between the three of you, I was surprised.”

Rhysand and Eris glanced at each other, remembering that moment when it was revealed to Armen that they were your mates. The surprise and hesitance in her features — it all made sense. You were a God and they were Cauldron-bound to you. You were as old, even older than Prythian itself. And yet you were mated to the two of them.

Armen shrugged, another sigh escaped her lips. Varian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, comforting her, “She was like a child, lost in this world. She didn’t know of her powers, it sometimes leaked out of her… You all have seen it.”

And they have, the flittering of shadows and darkness. Everyone had thought originally it was from Azriel — lights flickering when you were angry, shadows and night seeped out of your fingertips when you were training with Cassian. And all unknown to you.

“She has been trying to figure out herself, figure out her powers… She doesn’t know how to use it to her full conscious. Both of us have tried to rein in her powers, make it fully under her control.”

“… So what happened earlier?” Azriel questioned from his position in the corner of the room, his tone tight, “That thing that she had summoned that disintegrated the Attor.” The shadowsinger wasn’t mad, he was more frustrated than anything — they were your family, and yet you hid this part of you from them.

Another shrug from Armen, “I’ve tried to read… read anything concerning her. That thing I am unsure of. All I could think of —”

“The Grim…”

Eyes snapped towards your form, Eris and Rhysand looked down at you as you started to awaken. Apparently, you knew what they were talking about.

“It’s called the Grim…” you opened your eyes, your eye color back to normal — not the black color they had seen after the battle, but your own, ‘…A servant of Death itself.”

“(Y/N), Darling…” Rhysand breathed, as he kneeled in front of you as Eris shifted your form in his arms so that Rhysand could hold your cheeks, assessing you, ensuring you were unharmed. While Eris pressed his lips against the crown of your head, muttering, “Thank the Mother…”

A small smile tugged at your lips, feeling the bond tugged at both ends from your mates, eyes fluttering close as you let a wave of assurance down the bond. It had taken awhile for you to get used to using it to give comfort to both males, and longer for you to accept any sort of feeling from their end.

Once hands were off of you, Eris helped you to sit on the couch, large hands from both of your mates steadying you as you looked back at Armen. Your eyes staring into her silver ones, unvoiced betrayal in your look — Armen had promised to never let anyone know of what you were — and yet here she was, exposing your history. She let out a whimper, her way of apologizing to you before Varian wrapped her in his arms.

Silence again filled the room before the shuffling of feet. You had assumed that Rhysand had asked for everyone to leave, leaving you with your two mates. You took a breath, in and out, trying to rein in whatever you were feeling at the moment — you didn’t know what to feel.

Sure, you were exhausted, the fight with the Attor depleted your magic. You had not only protected yourself but the whole of Velaris with your magic. That you could deal with, but not this raw emotion of betrayal from your friend. Deep down, you knew that Armen only did what was necessary, to ease the tension in the room — to try to explain what had happened with you and the Attor hours before — to prove that you belonged there with them. That you were not a threat, that you were not an enemy to the Night Court. You knew that. You would talk to Armen properly later.

No matter how many centuries had passed, you were still figuring out your powers… still figuring out yourself. Today was another thing you’d have to figure out… and you wondered if, now, you have to figure it out yourself.

A tug at the golden string in your chest made you look up, staring at the violet hues of the third of your mate. Rhysand had looked at you were such worry, brows furrowed as he assessed you, a caress of your mental shields from his end. Another tug at that string made you look up at Eris, a similar look of worry sat on his face. You took another breath, one that shuddered through your figure before you reached out, both hands extended, to your mates only to pause in midair.

They were tainted with black, as if your fingertips were necrotized, as if the darkness lingered on you. A frown tugged on your lips, as you assessed them, retracting them slightly as if afraid to touch your mates with such hands. Hands were immediately on your wrist, your right in Rhysand’s and your left in Eris’, as you watched both of them press your hands against their chest, showing that you weren’t going to hurt them.

“…I’m sorry…” you slowly apologized, not even sure of what you were apologizing about. Was it the fact that you withheld your past from them? Or was it just the need to apologize to them.

You heard twin sighs before you felt identical kisses on the top of your head and that alone wrecked your body into another strong shudder, tears lining your eyes. You didn’t want to not tell them about you, you just… you couldn’t. You didn’t even know what you were, you didn’t know the extent of your powers.

“Is that the reason why you never told us? Even after the bond made itself known?” Rhysand asked, as he pulled away to look at you with a raised brow, “That you were Death? That you didn’t know yourself nor your powers?”

All you could do was nod your head, teeth biting into lower lip, as if you were a child being reprimanded, “… I was trying to figure it out,” you started off, fingers bunching at both of their shirts, to try to ground yourself to at the moment, eyes dimming for a moment before returning to the now, “Trying to figure myself out, my powers, to fit into this world. I just felt so…” a shrug lifted your shoulders, “I’m sure Armen told you… I felt lost, out of control. Like I was not here and here at the same time. That my powers had a mind of their own, controlling themselves through me. I just… didn’t know what I was doing.”

Eris and Rhysand always had seen it, how spaced out you were at times. Even with the bond between the three of you, your bond seemed frazzled, and much longer than the one that had connected the two males. They had worked so hard to get to you, to have you be in the moment with them, to be connected to you. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t doing the same, you worked with them… got used to being part of the Court, to be part of something much bigger than yourself — to be part of them. You had opened up to them, slowly but surely. You accepted the bond with much courting from both of the High Lords — many dates, many stolen kisses, many whispers during the night.

But hearing you, sound more vulnerable than you’ve ever been before, even during those moments at night when both Eris and Rhysand had expressed their darkest fears, their worries to you, they had never seen you more powerless.

Fingers slipped from their grip on their shirts, as you brought them back closer to your body, wringing your fingertips as if an attempt to wash off the stained darkness that lingered on your skin, “I also… didn’t want to scare either of you…” you confessed, almost a whisper, “The bond was formed and you two were almost fighting tooth and nail at each other at times —” a chuckle from both of the males made a small smile tug onto your features, “ — All the while ensuring that this bond was going to work. You guys set a lot of your differences aside to…” tears eventually overflowed, “Make sure that I was okay. And yet…”

You felt choked up. They had worked so hard in this bond, and yet… you didn’t even tell them — about who and what you were, you held the truth from them. Insecurities started to build up in you — that you were not meant for this bond, you didn’t deserve to be part of the Night Court… or any other court in that matter… that you weren’t meant to have such amazing mates — High Lords in the matter of a fact.

Your insecurites zip lined through the bond and it smashed towards Rhysand and Eris, and they couldn't help but tear up as well. Eris gently picked you up and back into his lap, strong, secure arms wrapping around your body, letting the bond open wide to provide you comfort and show how much he had loved you. Rhysand mimicked that, showering you with love and attention; reaching out to hold your hands in his.

“Oh sweetheart…” Eris hummed into your hair, pressing kisses on the top of your head, “… You should never be sorry about anything… It had been hard to understand from our side. We wondered on why you withheld such an important piece of yourself away from us; we had thought it was because you never trusted us fully —”

You were about retort up at him, only to have Eris press a kiss on your lips to silence you. He hummed before pulling back to gaze at you.

“— But, now we understand, and we're not going to reprimand you for it. Just know that we love you and, gosh…” a laugh escaped his chest, causing you to blink up at him in surprised, “You would never scare us away, (Y/N)… Not before finding out what you are, and not now, after finding out your Death reincarnate…”

“And…” you heard Rhysand shuffle into his feet before flopping down next to the both of you, taking your form from Eris’ lap and onto his own. Your two mates situated themselves — you on Rhysand’s lap, while your legs laid on Eris’ thighs.

“The thing with your powers… we can figure them out together. We can go to Day Court, ask Helion if they have any books about you and your powers…” he hummed softly, tilting your head up to press a kiss on your lips, “And even if we don't… All three of us will figure it out together..”

You smiled against his lips, nodding your head.

Eris reached over and gently held your chin to tug your lips towards his way, placing his own kiss.

“Can you imagine, Rhys…” The Autumn Heir murmured against your lips, “That our mate is in history books? Her name written for everyone to remember?” He teased, another kiss on your lips.

Rhysand let out a hearty laugh, “Well… she is amazing…”

A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled away from Eris’ lips, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other holding Rhysand’s hand that was around your waist.

“Well…” you whispered as you looked at both of them, their eyes shining as they looked at you, “Your names will be right beside mine then… We’ll ask Helion to fix those books…”

Chuckles escaped all three of you, as you remained in their arms, as you basked in the love and care of your two mates.

Even though you are uncertain about the future, the prospect of navigating your powers, you know at least your family and your mates were there to help you every step of the way.

#( .one-shot : death's magic ) #acotar x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #eris x reader #rhysand x you #eris x you #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fluff #acotar angst

[thisblogisaboutabook]

The Fated Truth

Azriel x Reader

Truth-Teller’s origin story. A multi-pov oneshot.

A/N: this story came to me after listening to the songs seven, vigilante shit, it’s nice to have a friend, and my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

warnings: attempted sa, language, suggestive language, parental abuse, violence, main character death

The Angel

-Ladies always rise above -

Remove the dagger from his heart.

-Ladies know what people want-

Wipe the blood from the corner of your kohl lined eyes.

-Someone sweet-

Spit on the bastard.

-Someone kind-

Swipe at the next overgrown male.

-Someone fun-

Hit your mark, swing around, drive your dagger into the brute on your six.

“Well, shit.” you think to yourself as a group of ten overgrown bats rush toward you. Siphons glowing.

The irony isn’t lost on you that yet another thing they withheld from you would contribute in damning their very existence. A female with siphons was considered absurd and absolutely out of the question, it wasn’t your place - yet this incontrolable blast of raw killing power begged to differ.

One moment those pricks were running toward you and the next, they were ashes in the wind.

Looking at the dead females around you, pure rage boils within. Your insides could be cooked at this point for all you know. Not a single feeling but uncontrollable rage.

A gasp breaks the silence. One of the females is still alive. Running to her, her eyes filled with panic, breaths rapid and shallow. You lean down and whisper to her before unsheathing your dagger and holding it up. Her eyes widen in terror but not at you - behind you. You turn to look.

“Azri-“

The blast of power hit before you could finish saying it - your mate’s name - your final breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Journal

Nine year old Y/N

“I made a new friend! His name is Azriel. He’s like me! He’s two years older than me and can’t fly but he still has his wings. I wish I still had mine, we could learn to fly together. Azriel has burn scars too but his are on his hands instead of his back like mine.

He’s really quiet but it’s okay, I talk and he listens! He has shadow powers though. I don’t think I’m supposed to say this but they’re really cute! One of them followed me home from my chores today.

I have to go now. Dad is yelling. I think he’s mad again.”

11 year old Y/N

“Father hit me again last night. I got upset and my power hiccuped. I asked him for a siphon and he locked me in the cellar for asking. I have bruises that hurt really badly but I’m okay.

Azriel saw me this morning. I tried to hide the bruises but he notices everything. I cried and he listened to me. Sometimes I think he’s the only person who sees me.”

13 year old Y/N

“One of father’s friends came over two nights ago - they were drinking. I had to refill their mugs of ale and the friend grabbed me inappropriately. Father laughed. When he left the room his friend pulled me into his lap and his hand drifted below my waist. I was scared and my power flickered, throwing me backward and flipping the chair over with him in it.

The blast broke his arm and nose. I don’t feel bad.

I tried telling father what happened but he didn’t listen. He locked me in the cellar from that night until this morning.

One of Azriel’s shadows found me and picked the lock. Father either forgot he locked me away or didn’t care because he never came to check on me or give me food. I found a canteen of water on one of the shelves though.

Azriel retrieved me as soon as his shadow notified him. He took me back to Rhysand’s Mother’s cabin and she fed me. Azriel stayed by my side as I took a bath - there were even bubbles. I’ve never had a bath with bubbles before. Azriel saw my scars peaking over my towel after I climbed out of the bath and instinctively clenched his hands. I took them in my hands and kissed them. Our scars prove our strength. He tells me mine are beautiful but his are too. All of him is.

He’s my best friend.”

15 Year Old Y/N

“I spent the day with Azriel yesterday. Sometimes we sneak away and train. He teaches me self-defense maneuvers and even some Illyrian fighting techniques. My powers have been growing a lot lately too. I am still not allowed siphons though. It’s getting harder to contain but training with Azriel serves as an outlet.

I got into a fight with father again two nights ago. He threw a knife at me. I avoided it but if it hit me, it would have landed in my chest. He called me an “ungrateful whore just like my mother.” I was told that mother died in childbirth but sometimes I wonder if it’s not true.

When he locked me in the cellar this time, I let out a blast of power. It ripped a shelf off the wall and down with it came a dusty box I’d never seen before. I opened it to find a beautiful obsidian-hilted knife and a note that said:

For my beautiful babe. May the light of truth always find you, even in the darkest places. I will always love you. -Mother.

I can’t believe it was there all of this time. It broke my heart to know that she had been locked away in the cellar too. The only thing she was able to give me. She loved me. Those words meant so much. Someday I will be reunited with her in the realm beyond and she’ll share her truth with me.

Oh I almost forgot!! Azriel snuck into my room this evening and I showed him the knife. He held me while I cried tears of joy and sadness over this gift from my mother.

He’s going to train me in wielding it.”

16 Year old Y/N

Father was away on a training exercise last night so I went to a party at Rhysand’s cabin. It was fun but Morrigan was there. She’s so beautiful and I think Azriel likes her. He looks at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky.

He’s my best friend and I have loved him for a long time but sometimes, I feel an ache in my chest. Maybe I love him as more than a friend? I left the party early and trained with my hunting knife alone at our usual spot. He didn’t come looking for me.

This morning he stopped by and we practiced together. He seemed sad for a bit but I didn’t press. He tends to prefer more physical methods of expressing his feelings. He was still sullen afterward so I brought him back to my house for tea. We laid in bed together for hours. I know it’s frowned upon but it’s never gone past holding each other. He needs touch as much as I need his listening ear.

I think I’m going to ask him to spend the night.

17 year old Y/N

Yesterday was my 17th birthday. Father didn’t pay any mind to it as always. He says it’s “a reminder of what I did to my mother.” He drank himself into oblivion which left me free to leave the house. He probably never realized I left.

Sometimes I want to tell him that I know his secret - that there was more to her death than my birth but I know better. The following blow up would be catastrophic. At this point, my power has been growing so much that I think… I think I’m more of a danger to him than he is to me.

But… something big happened. Azriel took me flying. We looked at the stars and he flew me far north to see the Aurora. It was almost as beautiful as him. I may or may not have cried tears of joy.

Az playfully kissed my tears away but then something happened - what started as friendly kisses sparked a flame within me and I… I noticed a shift in his scent too. We locked eyes and he kissed my lips. Hard, fervently, like maybe he sees me as something more. We landed in a clearing under the Aurora and kissed for hours.

I love him. I love him wholeheartedly.

18 year old Y/N

Something happened last night! Az and I have spent a lot of nights together recently. Any time father is away, he comes over and we lay in bed kissing and talking for hours until his shadows inevitably lull me to sleep. But last night, I kissed his jaw and down his neck - he grabbed my wrist and growled!! Not a scary growl but a… possessive growl. He told me that if we started this, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So…. I kept kissing him. Lower. And Lower. And, well… the rumors about wingspan are true.

We had each other over and over all night, until Cassian and Rhys came knocking on my door looking for him.

18 Year old Y/N part two:

Father has hardly been around. He’s been visiting other camps. I’m thankful for the break from him and especially thankful for the time I’ve spent with Azriel. We’ve spent countless hours entangled with each other over the past few months. My power has been stirring a lot, it’s still growing. Training hasn’t been enough so this physical outlet between Azriel and I has been a lifeline. I can’t get enough of him. He told me he loved me - and I knew this time it was different. He truly loves me and not just as his friend. He knows that I love him too.

But things have also been trying… Morrigan has visited a few times recently and he’s still so enamored by her. Honestly, I get it. But it still hurts. Sometimes I want to say something about it but I don’t want to cause problems. There’s a rumor that she slept with Cassian a couple of years ago and things have been different between Azriel and Morrigan ever since. He broods more than ever when she’s around.

Maybe I need to fuck him senseless, until all he can think about is me.

Just kidding, but seriously.

19 Year Old Y/N

“I have a secret.

A really big, life altering secret.

Azriel is my mate. I don’t know if he knows but last night - things were really passionate, when we came together, that golden thread people talk about, it just… SNAPPED for me.

Things have been really bad with father lately and there have been more wing clippings happening. My heart hurts for the girls. I used to feel sad because I never had a chance to touch the skies (until Azriel learned to fly and carried me into them) - but to have been able to fly for so many years and lose the ability. I couldn’t imagine. Those males deserve to suffer.

Father made a comment recently saying that he gave me a ‘gift’ by cutting off and burning my wings as a child. It made me furious - my power slipped. It destroyed most of our living room furniture and half our kitchen table. I could scent the fear in him when it happened. I think if he wasn’t such a coward - he would have killed me. I have hardly seen him since.”

20 Year old Y/N

“Azriel is taking me to a formal party at another camp! I can’t wait. Rhysand’s mother even made me a dress for it. It’s the most beautiful clothing I’ve ever owned. She also added a hidden sheath for my knife.

I just finished getting ready - I feel like a shooting star. I’ve never felt so… so powerful and gorgeous. My eyes are lined with kohl and my hair is braided with silvery strands woven in.

Tonight is the night I’m telling Azriel. I’m nervous, so, so nervous, but he deserves to know that we’re mates.

Morrigan will be at the party too. I really hope I’m not making a mistake by telling him tonight. I know he still cares for her so I will wait until after the party and it’s just the two of us in the sky before telling him. Maybe he’ll take me to look at the Aurora again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Survivor

The infamous Shadowsinger made his way to her - approaching slowly, trembling, two palms up in the air as if to placate her.

He knelt down to the female who cried out in a blood curdling scream of pain and fear.

“P-pl-please don’t!! Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m here. You are safe.” The Shadowsinger choked out.

She didn’t understand. Why would he kill that female? She was only trying to help.

“Y-yo-you ki-killed h-her.” She cried out right before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Shadowsinger

Devastation. Pure devastation threatened to rip Azriel to shreds. What the hell happened in a matter of hours?

He’d barely seen Y/N at the dance. She’d arrived to the party with all eyes on her. She held her head high, wearing her scars proudly. He couldn’t help but admire how she let them shine tonight. He’d walked in with his hand on her back his scarred skin to her scarred skin. It wasn’t a flaw at all, but a lovely match. They were beautiful together.

Tonight was the night he would ask her to move in with him. He was now making a small salary - enough to buy a little cabin for the two of them. It was time for her to get the hell away from her horrid father. He planned to take her to view the aurora that she loved so much - and present her with a special gift - her very own siphons. She was the strongest Illyrian female he knew - really she was stronger than any Illyrian he knew aside from maybe him, Rhys, and Cassian. She’d struggled with her power and the misogynistic Illyrian bastards in Windhaven refused to allow her or any female such a privilege.

He’d worked out a plan with Rhys, who convinced the smith that crafted the siphons that he was going to try his hand at wearing siphons one more time - claiming he had a new method of siphoning his power through them that would prevent shattering. While they both knew it was bullshit and the siphons would never work for Rhys - they would then gift them to Y/N without raising suspicion.

Mor was at the dance tonight. He had gone over to visit with her and shared his plans for tonight with her. She squealed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug, requesting a celebratory dance. They’d gone out on the dance floor for a couple of songs and when he pulled away to steal a dance with Y/N she was gone.

He’d searched the party through when a couple of males burst through the door - yelling of a female going crazy and murdering local villagers.

Az immediately vacated the party to take down the assailant - sending another partygoer to alert Rhys and Cassian who were currently bedding a set of twins in one of the suites.

He was taken back when he landed at the site of the attack. The carnage was brutal with blood coating the snowy ground, littered in dead males and females. His heart nearly stopped when he realized, at the center of it all, there she was. Y/N holding her hunting knife over a severely injured female.

Stunned by the sight, Azriel prepared to send a wave of power out and knock the knife from her hand. Right as the power readied itself for Azriel to fire, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and snap. His body jolted - a golden thread between him and the blood splattered beauty before him - the surge caused his arm to jerk and a much more powerful blast emitted from his siphons. He missed his target. For the first time in his life, he missed it. Instead of the knife, the deadly blast of power hit her.

His mate. His best friend. His equal. His eternity - ripped away in a second.

Everything after that was a blur. His only memories of those moments played on a constant reel in his head flashing images of the injured girl screaming “you killed her!!!!”, collapsing on top of Y/N’s lifeless body, screaming to the mother or any other deity that may listen - begging for her chest to rise and fall again, and then four strong hands pulling him off of her before everything went black and his brothers voice calmed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days later Azriel woke up from whatever sedation Rhys had put him in. When he woke, Cassian was by his side. It was all of a minute before the memory came flooding back.

Azriel thrashed only to find he’d been restrained.

“Brother..” Cassian said firmly.

“Brother!” he yelled

Azriel’s wrists and ankles were on fire as he thrashed. He had to get to her, had to.

Finally Azriel cried out “Y/N!!! Y/N!!!!”

“My mate! Where is she!? WHERE IS SHE!?” he screamed and cried, thrashing against the restraints with all of his might.

Everything went dark again.

“Az…..” Rhys spoke softly into his mind

Azriel didn’t have the strength to scream or yell in this space of sedation. He could only whisper “where is she?”

Silence filled the void of his mind before Rhys spoke. “She’s gone, Az.”

Devastation flooded through him, filling him completely, making that one sided bond reverberate every ounce of emotion back to him.

Rhys waited patiently, sending soothing waves of darkness into his mind. Knowing Azriel well enough to wait until he was ready to send a thought back.

“Why, Rhys? Why did she do it?”

Again, that damned silence as Rhys paused.

“If I show you now, I’ll have to keep you under for longer, Az. You’re a danger to yourself right now and this… it’s heavy, brother.”

“Do it” he gritted.

Azriel’s mind became entranced in a vision. Before him a massacre. He was seeing through the eyes of a frightened female, eyes bleary from sobbing.

A large group of males had corralled several females into a circle, some as young as five or six. The males all carried sharp objects ranging from sickles and scythes to swords and axes.

A male stepped forward - Y/N’s father - who spoke:

“Females of Illyria have not served us well in many years. They forget that their purpose is to care for us, maintain our homes, and cater to our physical needs. Instead, they insult us by wasting time and energy on training - as if our protection is not enough? Young females smuggle herbs into our camps that delay their bleed so they can fly where they please, whoring around with whomever they please. These behaviors reflect negatively on all of Illyria, leaving us to appear weak to enemies.”

And then the bloodshed began. The males ran at the females, corralling them in closer and closer. Butchering wings and brutalizing any female who dared fight back. The screaming, gods awful screaming, pierced the air.

Male screams suddenly burst out - a blast of power knocking ten of them on their asses.

And there she was, in her resplendent glory.

“Hello boys.” She smirked.

Y/N’s father stepped forward. “My traitorous daughter, and dressed like a slut too. Shall we show them what happens to women who don’t obey.”

“Oh yes, ladies, my father took my wings when I was four. He burnt the stumps too. See these scars?” She turned around briefly with a wave to her back. “Someone I love helped me realize how beautiful they are, a stark reminder of what I can overcome.”

She paused, looking to the females as she addressed her father:

“So yes, father, perhaps this is the fate of disobedient females - but allow me the honor of showing YOU the fate of males who think they can steal a females power.”

-They say looks can kill and I might try-

Her piercing eyes again met her father as she threw a hand out, sending another blast of power - a death blow - turning him to ash in the wind.

Before any of the males could react, she sent another larger blast, creating an opening near the most vulnerable of the females.

“RUN! Those of you who can fight - you may stay. Those of you who are unable - there is no shame in leaving now! Seek shelter!”

The females nodded toward a teenage girl, signaling her to gather the youngest females and ran off with them. Any males that tried stopping them were turned to ash.

“Ladies, show them who we are!” Y/N cried.

-The ladies simply had enough-

They were outnumbered, so terribly outnumbered. Some females had died before Y/N arrived - bleeding out from the butchering of their wings but the few remaining females fought bravely. Because of their lack of training, the males easily overtook many of them but Y/N led them bravely, valiantly, taking them out as best as she could.

As the female numbers lessened Y/N cried out for the females to evacuate, to seek healers. The remainder of the females fled aside from two females (one of which this visions point of view was from) who appeared to have more training than the others.

Y/N looked to them giving a knowing look seemingly saying “give them hell.” They adjusted their stances into that of the most fearsome warriors, and took on the remaining males as more and more fled in.

Y/N’s power was like nothing they’d ever seen. She took down male after male.

Before she could react, two males approached from behind taking out the other female and knocking out the vision of the female whose mind Rhys had gleaned into.

As the female blacked out, the vision faded away. Silence once again filled the air for several minutes before Azriel said:

“But.. she was holding a knife over the female. I don’t understand.”

Rhys answered in a heartbreakingly soft tone

“I can show you, brother. But this will be hard to see. Are you sure?”

Azriel replied firmly, “show me.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing. But then the vision resumed as the female regained consciousness:

Her eyes were so blurry. She was hurting terribly but managed a gasp. Around her, all of the males were dead and the bodies of their fallen sisters painted the snow red. Emotion flooded through her, she couldn’t move. As her vision cleared further, she saw her. The female who fought so bravely for them.

Y/N saw her and ran over. The blood caking her braid causing panic. The trauma of this night was too much - the blood so triggering. Y/N sensed the fear and whispered “I am here. You are safe now. Look at my eyes, not around you, not at the blood on me, just my eyes.” The female tried but couldn’t look away from the blood in her hair. “I’m going to bring my knife out and cut the braid. Do not be afraid.” Y/N once again unsheathed her knife, lifting it, when loud wings flapped in. The injured female couldn’t get words out, her only signal to Y/N, a wide eyed look of panic.

Y/N turned around - breathed out “Azri-“ just as that fatal blow of power hit her.

“STOP!” Azriel cried out in his mind. It was too much.

Azriel’s body began convulsing as a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and panic flew through him. “I KILLED HER. I KILLED HER. MY MATE. MY MATE. MY MATE.”

Rhys had no choice but to send out another wave of sedation to his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next several weeks were spent in and out of sedation. Rhysand had found that Y/N’s father had been planning the attack for months, perhaps even longer. The camp was chosen for the first attack because of the party - a distraction to lessen the chances of interference from outsiders.

He planned to carry out more attacks throughout Illyria in coming months. Had it not been for Y/N, more would have happened. Her heroic actions prevented so many more losses than just the ones that were saved that night.

Azriel stayed bedridden for months - only leaving when Cassian and Rhys nagged him enough that it wasn’t worth the energy to refuse them. One day Rhys brought in a box, inside the box, Y/N’s knife and a journal. “She would have wanted you to have this.”

Azriel’s chest broke at the sight. Her mothers knife, the knife they’d spent hundreds of hours training with. He almost refused it but it felt like a piece of her. A reminder of her goodness, of the mate he lost.

That night he laid it under his pillow - an odd comfort as he read through the journal. The journal unveiling that she knew they were mates. His heart cracked further knowing that the reason she’d stepped out that night was likely to get some air after she saw him with Morrigan. “Stupid.” His inner thoughts cried out to him. How could he have been so blind?

He lay awake for half the night as he read through her journal - he sobbed for hours until his shadows finally lulled him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

“Azriel” a soft voice whispered.

“Azriel” the lovely voice whispered again.

He was dreaming.

He tried to whisper her name but couldn’t speak.

“I don’t have much time, I need you to listen.”

He again attempted to speak but no sound came. He nodded his head.

A flash of light illuminated his mind and there she was. Somehow even more beautiful than she’d been - if that were possible. Her form illuminated with an incandescent glow, face full of light - a light that only came from insurmountable joy and happiness. And behind her, behind her were stunning golden feathered wings. An angel, his angel, stood before him… with six glowing siphons.

“Azriel, please do not cry for me. I am at peace. This was always my destiny. The lovely truth of my life was that all of the pain led me to you, I found a love, a friendship, that so few experience. Every step led me to where I am now and this afterlife is beautiful. The truth of life is that fate is inevitable.”

She waved a hand and out stepped more winged females. The females who died in the attack.

“What happened was not an accident, it was fate. You could not have changed the outcome. When you sent your power out toward me and the bond snapped, my power shot through the bond into you, reflecting back to me. You only sent out a small blast, the fatal blow came from my refracted power.”

Azriel’s eyes widened at the revelation. His heart still completely shattered but the guilt slightly lessened.

“When you sealed my fate it trapped a piece of my soul in the knife. I am forever bound to Truth-Teller. When you carry truth-teller you carry a piece of my power, of me, with you. Though, I will be with you regardless, as a part of me will always rest…” she held a delicate hand to her heart, “right here.”

His mind raced. Truth-Teller. What she’d named her knife after the truth of her mother was unveiled with it.

“I must go now, Azriel.” She waved an arm again to her fellow angels. “I am the keeper of the Mother’s gate and this is my legion. This was always my destiny - this and to love you. I will keep the bastards out and someday, someday far from now, I will hold the gate open for you.

Until then, may the truth set you free my love.”

A beautiful woman resembling Y/N stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her mother. The angels all nodded to Azriel in confirmation.

“My precious mate, I will love you for eternity.” Y/N whispered as she shot toward the sky - right into the most vibrant aurora he’d ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

500 Years Later

Azriel still thought of her every damn day, Truth-Teller never leaving his side. His North Star, the angel guiding him through life. He never told his brothers - didn’t know how to explain how that broken mating bond glowed inside him whenever his intuition failed. She’d guided him in her own way all of these years.

Leading up to the war with Hybern the tug became stronger and stronger. A warning of the strife to come.

For the first time since the night Rhys brought him her journal and Truth-Teller, she reappeared to him.

“Azriel.” Her melodic voice whispered, a sweet song serenading his soul.

“Azriel, I don’t have much time.” that honeyed voice whispered.

In the same fashion as last time, he couldn’t speak. Managing only to nod.

“I have carefully pulled the strings of fate as much as I am capable. A war is coming with a fate that I am unable to divulge. The Mother has allowed me to share just this:

“The fawn who sees carries the truth. When the time comes, you will know.”

Azriel furrowed his brows with confusion.

Y/N smiled softly, outshining any star in the sky, more captivating than the spirits of Starfall. “The truth will set you free. Do not fear loving again.”

He fought and fought, trying to speak, thrashing against the walls of his mind he was able to mutter three words to her.

“I love you.”

She placed a hand on her heart.

“I know, my love.”

Spreading those magnificent wings, she shot from his mind, the void filling with the echoes of her song.

“Until eternity reunites our souls.”

#sarah j maas #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #Azriel #azriel one shot #azriel x reader #Shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger #angst #acotar oneshot #acotar x taylor swift #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #morrigan #illyrian #rhysand #angst!azriel #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction

[roleplayfinder]

ACOTAR/ Sarah J Maas Universe Roleplay

Looking for: FxM, MxF, FxF. Doubling. I have been searching the internet for different ACOTAR inspired roleplays. I’m in my mid 30’s and have been roleplaying for almost 20 years. I enjoy world building, multiple characters, political intrigue and romance. I write about 400-800 words a post and I have samples that I can offer. I also only play on Discord because it’s easier to make channels for OOC, Inspirations and Plotting.

I will only double. My male characters are usually better written but I prefer to play female presenting characters. (It is my curse.) I live for minimances. (Side romances.) I write in third person and won’t write in first person. I need a partner who can bounce ideas off of each other. Please, don’t make me do all the work of coming up with a plot. It’s a red flag for me. 

The pairings that I would love to explore include:

Gwyn x Azriel

Elain x Lucien

Mor x Emerie

JurienxVassa

Ones that would be interesting to add onto or do an AU version:

Nesta x Cassian

This is a maybe but Rhysand x Feyre.

Ones that would include an Original Character:

Older Nyx x OC

Eris x OC

OCxOC

I would also be interested in Throne of Glass or Crescent City roleplays or AUs. Or SJM Multi Universe Roleplays.

LorcanxElide

LysandraxAedion

RuhnxLidia

Ideas:

One of the Children of the Blessed goes into the fae lands and after all of their friends have been attacked, they are helped by a fae who takes pity on them and the adventure that comes about from that.

What if Nesta had gone into the fae lands after Feyre? Or, what if Elain had been the one taken by Tamlin. Feyre and Nesta have to team up to save their sister.

Older Nyx and Tamlin’s daughter.

Stories about the countries on the continent, politics from some of those Kingdoms.

If you are interested, message me or like the post. I am always searching. 

#submission #twenty-one and over #acotar #acotar roleplay #acotar rp

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

Crown of Ash and Blood

Chapter 3

Pairing: Eris x Original Character

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: light blood and violence :)

Summary: Eris is cool, calm, and collected.  He’s not known for the fire in his blood, but for his cold manipulation of truth and lies.  Until he meets his match.  Literally.

Masterlist

Eris trailed behind his hounds, following them deeper into the woods.  His father had assigned him to find a deserter, some foolish male who hadn’t shown up for training a few days before.  The rest of his squad sang the same tune: he’d received word of his mother’s illness and left that very night.  Eris knew what his father’s order would be before he said a word.  Find and kill him.  Publicly.

It didn’t matter that the male had shown admirable loyalty to his family or that he’d requested permission to leave.  All that mattered was Beron’s decision that the male had deserted his post before his request was accepted.

Eris tried to make it quick.

His father had neglected to mention a deadline, so Eris took his time returning to make his final report.  He sent his soldiers ahead, choosing to maintain a leisurely pace with his hounds.  He’d tell his father that the hounds had scented something, and he’d followed the trail to inspect the source.

The hounds barked and Eris tugged his mare to a halt.  He scanned the trees, finding nothing amiss.  Then he saw it.  A shadow under a fallen branch thickened, darkening slightly.  A piece of parchment fluttered to the ground, settling among the fallen leaves, and the shadow returned to normal.

Growling softly, Eris swung down from the saddle, stalking over to the tree to retrieve Rhysand’s love note.  As requested, rescheduled for tomorrow at noon.

Half a thought set the paper alight.  It was nothing but ash by the time it hit the forest floor.

* * * * *

Danae was still pissed about being winnowed to her room like a misbehaving child.  But she was more pissed about the wards on the door.

She discovered the wall of hard air blocking the doorway by running into it face-first.  Her nose still throbbed fiercely, though she tried to distract herself by throwing various objects at the stupid wards.  The floor was covered in shards of shattered vases, one plate, and the two halves of a hairbrush.  Despite knowing that the High Lord likely wouldn’t clean it up, the mess made her feel better.

It was a miracle she was alive, honestly.  Though Danae suspected that was only because of the female, Feyre.  The High Lord was probably trying to impress her with his mercy or some such nonsense.  Cauldron save her, she’d actually challenged the High Lord.  Danae would be surprised if he wasn’t thinking of creative punishments for her.  Her thoughts spiraled, coming up with a few ideas of her own.  The possibilities made her blanch.

She couldn’t stay here.  Locked in this room, she was a sitting duck, a target awaiting his ire.  If he was going to take his revenge for her little speech or turn her mind to jelly, she wasn’t going to make it easier for him.

“Okay, think,” Danae muttered, fighting the urge to pace, considering the state of the floor.  She slumped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as though an escape plan would etch itself upon the stone for her.

How was she even supposed to get away?  Madja said her wings were nearly back to full strength, but that she shouldn’t fly for some time yet to prevent reinjury.  The High Lord surely knew this, since the healer reported back to him every day.

Danae frowned, rolling off the bed and picking her way to the balcony.  She leaned over the railing, peering at the drop below.  The palace was on top of a mountain—bare stone, hardly a handhold in sight, with an unforgiving fall if she slipped.  She doubted she could manage the climb down in one piece, let alone without getting caught.

Then she stopped, blinking.  She was on the balcony.  The High Lord hadn’t placed any wards on the balcony.  Her excitement banked when she remembered her wings, doubtless the reason why there were no wards.  But it was a place to start.

Leaning over the railing again, she looked down, but not at the sheer cliff.  The rooms on either side of hers had balconies as well, but they were too far away to reach them safely.  But the room directly below had one, too.  She grinned, racing back into the room and ripping the sheets from her bed.  Another thought had Danae grabbing a makeshift weapon from her breakfast tray, shoving it into her braided hair.  It was best to be prepared.

She moved back outside, knotting the sheets securely to form a makeshift rope.  Danae looped one end around her waist and the other around a portion of the carved banister, a security measure in case she slipped.  Then she sat on the railing, swinging her legs over one at a time.  She turned until the stone dug into her stomach, then slowly lowered herself down, arms straining.  Her fingers barked, digging into the rough stone, but even with her body fully extended, she couldn’t feel anything beneath her toes.  Grunting with effort, Danae shifted her grip to the makeshift rope, praying it would hold her weight.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, slickening her palms, but Danae didn’t let herself succumb to her nerves.  She lowered herself down the rope, letting it slide through her fingers inch by inch, until her feet found purchase on the balcony below.  Breathing a sigh of relief, she pulled with her toes, flapping her wings gently to propel her forward.  The momentum was enough to send her fully onto the balcony and away from the drop.  Danae fell into a crouch on the balcony proper, limbs trembling with adrenaline.

Her fingers picked at the knot around her waist, and Danae left the rope behind.  She could only hope that no one found it before she managed to escape.

Creeping into the room, Danae found it empty, as was the hallway.  She darted down the seemingly endless corridor, thinking furiously.  The High Lord was Illyrian, if only half.  She found it hard to believe that any Illyrian would live in a place with only one way out: flying.  Two, if she counted winnowing.  But there had to be another way.

The mountain below.  She’d seen a massive set of doors, so there was obviously something within.  If she followed that trail of thought, it made sense if there was a passageway, something that led from the palace all the way to the base of the mountain.  Danae slipped into the first stairwell she found, heading downwards.  If there was an escape route, she was fairly sure it would be on the lowest level.

She checked every room, desperation mounting with each failure.  Just more bedrooms and closets.  Fighting the urge to slam the doors shut, Danae tried the final one.  She blinked.

Stairs.  Leading downwards.

* * * * *

“Glad you could make it, Eris,” Rhysand drawled.

Eris smiled, pulling out a chair.  Same cramped meeting room, same arrogant assholes.  “I thought it was only fair to make you wait, since you enjoy doing it to me,” he said.  The chair disappeared right before he sat down.  “Childish revenge tactics don’t suit you, Rhysand.”

“Oh no, that was me,” Feyre smirked.

“Ah, that makes much more sense,” he said, settling into another chair.  “After all, you’re only twenty years old now?  Twenty-one?  It’ll take time to mature.”

Along the wall, Azriel’s grip tightened on his blade.  Eris ignored him.

“No Morrigan today?  What a shame,” Eris tutted, leaning back in his seat.

The Shadowsinger leaned forward a bit, as if preparing to leap across the table and skewer him.  Eris’ smile widened in a silent challenge.

Rhysand narrowed his eyes, patience worn thin.  “What do you want?”

“I wanted to check on my allies, especially after seeing such evidence of turmoil.  If you become entangled in an internal war, you won’t be especially useful to me anymore,” Eris said, inspecting his nails.

Feyre snorted, “Curious about your charred victims?”

“Hardly victims,” he said with a snort.  “Apparently, The Night Court has more internal warring than Autumn.”

Rhysand’s expression went blank for a moment, then his mouth curled up.  “Are you more interested in the female?  I have to be honest, Eris, I didn’t think you’d go for a lesser faerie.”

“I’d say the same of you, but,” Eris trailed off, gesturing towards the Illyrian behind them.

Both Feyre and Azriel looked positively murderous.  Eris’ blood thrummed at the tension in the air, but Rhysand cut through it with a wave of his hand.  “I have more important things to do than play games with you.  Out with it already.”

“I have doubts that the conflict with Briallyn has been resolved.”

“Doubts?  She’s dead,” Feyre said, confusion splashed across her face.

“Yes, as you’ve told me.  I need to know more,” Eris said.  “And you need to be cautious of my father.”

“Explain,” Rhysand said.

“You know how this works, Rhysand.  Information for information.”

Feyre lounged in her chair like a throne.  Eris nearly snorted at the act, knowing exactly how uncomfortable the furniture was.  “Her name is Danae.”  The her in question was obvious, as was the intent to sniff out a potential weakness.  Too bad for them, because Eris didn’t have any.  Unless Rhysand decided to kill another High Lord’s wife.

Eris rolled his eyes, avoiding Feyre’s sad attempt to bait him.  “That’s not the information I’m interested in.”

“Well, then,” Rhysand leaned back, lacing his fingers together over his stomach.  “What are you interested in?”

“Briallyn.  Tell me what happened.”

Feyre blinked.  “Why?”

“Don’t make me remind you twice,” Eris snapped.

“We get it,” Rhysand sneered.  “Very well.  Nesta UnMade her.”

“Surely you can do better than that,” Eris scoffed.

Feyre interjected, picking up where Rhysand had so kindly left off.  “Briallyn had a plan to kill Nesta, in hopes that the Cauldron would give back her youth.  She engineered a situation where Nesta would be powerless, wielded the Crown against Cassian, and tried to kill her.”  Feyre shrugged.  “Obviously, that didn’t work.  Briallyn is nothing but dust.”

Eris nodded, considering.  “You told me she was gone, but not how.”  He took a breath, searching for the right way to explain, without the inner circle dismissing him as they liked to do.  “Something is…wrong.  After news of Briallyn’s death, my father was not as upset as I thought he would be.”

Rhysand’s brows rose.  “And why should we concern ourselves with your father’s mood swings?”

“Because for once, his sons aren’t his biggest concern.  You are,” Eris said, gesturing to the two of them.  “My father hasn’t forgotten Feyre’s powers, or the fact that he relinquished another part of his magic to save you, Rhysand.  He hasn’t forgotten about the two Made sisters currently residing in the Night Court.  And he certainly hasn’t forgotten how you humiliated him at the meeting in Dawn.”  Eris’ jaw tightened at the memory.  Though it had been satisfying to watch Rhysand make a mockery of his father, Beron had been quite displeased upon their return to Autumn.  “He feels weak, and that means he needs to take out the important players on the board before they strike first.  Autumn does not suffer fools,” Eris finished.

“And you really think we should believe your warning?  Of a mysterious assassination plot?”

“It won’t be an assassination,” Eris scoffed.  “It will be obliteration with an ally more powerful than all of your court combined.”

“Koschei?”

“I don’t know of any other death-gods running around,” Eris said dryly.  “If my father is not furious at one of his allies being eliminated, it means one of two things: either she wasn’t his ally or he has a better one to replace her.”

Rhysand looked contemplative.  “We know they were communicating before.”

“Or he was communicating through her,” Feyre pointed out.

“It could be Koschei,” Rhysand said, brows drawn.

“What news do you have from Vassa?  Has he contacted her?”  Eris demanded, tapping his fingers on the table.  It had taken them long enough to reach the same conclusion he’d come to weeks ago.

Feyre’s tone was snide.  “Cassian saw you there before, why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Eris exhaled forcefully, willing calm to his veins.  “If you have the information, perhaps you can make yourself useful and share it,” he said.

Azriel spoke up, voice cold as ice, “Vassa has heard nothing.”  That wasn’t good.  In Eris’ opinion, no news was worse than bad news.  It meant they had no idea what was coming.

“Why are you so worried?  It’s a bit out of character,” Rhysand chuckled.

Eris blew out a breath.  “Whether you believe it is irrelevant, but I am concerned with the future of all the courts, not just Autumn.  If one falls, the rest will follow.”

* * * * *

Danae had thrown up twice on the damned spiral staircase.  Whoever designed it was a sadist, she decided, swaying slightly as she descended.

When she ran out of steps, Danae stopped, momentarily confused.  Then she lunged forward into a dimly lit hallway.  When she turned back, she saw no sign of the stairs, only dark stone.  She snorted.  What good was a secret staircase if anyone could find it?

The hall was carved out of black rock, small lights set into the walls every few feet.  Aside from the faelights, both directions looked identical.  With a shrug, Danae picked the left path, still a bit woozy from the climb.  If she was wrong, she’d simply turn around.  Then she caught a faint whisper of sound.  Voices?  Danae paused before continuing onward.  If she got caught, she thought grimly, she’d just have to hope she was faster.

I wouldn’t go that way, a voice whispered.  Danae spun around, coming face to face with a slender female.

For a moment, Danae couldn’t do more than gape.  At first glance, the female wore nothing more than a carefully draped piece of fabric.  A thin belt held the material at her waist, somehow preserving her modesty.  Her brown hair hung in soft waves to the small of her back.  She was horribly pale, as though she’d never seen a wisp of sunlight, and the black gown did little to improve her complexion.  Dark eyes watched her from a too-thin face, brows heavy with suspicion.

Panic hit Danae a heartbeat later.  “Don’t say anything,” she hissed.

The female blinked, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.  I’ll want something in exchange for my silence.

Danae’s lungs froze.  The female’s mouth hadn’t moved.  “You’re a—”

Daemati.  Would you like to make a bargain?  The female tipped her head to the side, eyes glittering.

Bargains were tricky.  She’d never made one before, but Danae knew the magic was old and powerful.  However, to get out of here safely, she would have to risk it.  “Your silence.  And the way out of this mountain.  What do you want in return?”

The female watched her for a moment.  A memory.  Share one of your favorite memories of the outside world.

“Are you going to steal it?”

The female’s mouth twitched again.  No, I only wish to see something new.  Show me a memory, and I will show you the way.  I will not tell anyone of your presence until you have escaped.

Danae blinked.  “That’s it?  Fine.”

It’s a bargain, the female nodded.  Immediately, tingles erupted on Danae’s wrist.  When she looked down, she saw an inverted triangle, the inked mark no larger than the pad of her thumb.  The female revealed the same dark tattoo on her own wrist before gesturing to Danae impatiently.

“How do I—”

Simply think of the memory, and when I knock upon the gates to your mind, let me enter.

Danae shuddered at the thought of making herself so vulnerable to attack, but she’d made a bargain.  Only now she realized how foolish she’d been, not specifying that the female must not harm her.  Swallowing hard, Danae closed her eyes, thinking back to happier times.  Without any conscious decision, she found herself remembering the summer she learned to fly.

Then she felt a ripple, like a fingertip dipped into a pond.  Danae’s awareness of her own mind solidified until an image formed.  There were no gates, as the female had said.  Rather, Danae had a low stone wall encircling her mind, weathered with age.  Yet a dark form lingered respectfully beyond it.  As she watched, the figure reached out to tap on her wall again.

Danae nodded, unsure how to change the wall to allow entry, but soon found she did not need to.  The figure simply crested the wall, a shadowy wave, and touched upon the memory in her grasp.

“Alright, darling, I’m going to let you go this time.”

Danae squealed nervously, clinging to her mother’s shoulders.  “I’m not ready,” she begged.

“If you don’t try, you never will be,” her mother said sagely.  “Don’t fret.  Close your eyes and listen for a moment.”

Shaking lightly, Danae squeezed her eyes shut.  She listened, trying to ignore her own panicked breathing.  After a little while, her breaths slowed, and she caught the sound of the trees creaking in the wind.  Leaves rustled, and birds called high above.  She breathed, ears catching the whispering of the grass and the buzzing of bees.

“Are you ready?”

Danae nodded, opening her eyes.  “Yes,” she determined.  She spread her wings wide to catch the breeze, and flapped once, twice.  Her mother helped, bending her knees and then launching Danae into the sky.  Only this time, she let go of Danae’s feet.  When Danae felt air beneath her toes, instead of her mother’s shoulders, fear set in, but only for a heartbeat.  Her wings strained, flapping again, and Danae whooped when she lifted a bit higher.  The sun warmed the delicate membrane, a reassuring feeling as she swooped across the clearing.  “I’m flying,” she called, exhilarated.

Her mother laughed, the sound ringing loud and clear.  “Yes, you are,” she called back.

Danae blinked, suddenly finding herself back in the hallway.  Her heart twisted, wishing she could swim in that memory forever.  But it had been a long time, and there was no going back.  Danae shook her head, banishing the longing.  She’d fulfilled her end of the bargain, so she looked at the female, ready to demand her half of the deal.  But after seeing the wonder that lit up the other female’s gaze, Danae found herself asking a different question.  “What’s your name?”

Does it matter?  The female’s face shuttered.

Danae knew that look.  She’d seen it on her mother’s face every day.  “Yes,” she whispered fiercely.  “Come with me.”

The female looked incredulous.  Where are you going?

Danae shook her head impatiently.  “I don’t know yet.  Anywhere but here.”

The brunette tossed her head, eyes mocking.  Without a plan, you are doomed to fail.

“It’s better than choosing to stay in my prison cell,” Danae hissed.  “Even a slim chance of escape is better than refusing any chance at all.”

My father, the female began, then cut herself off.  She took a breath before starting again.  If I am caught trying to escape, the punishment will be worse than death.

Danae pinched the bridge of her nose.  She never thought she’d miss Illyria before running into so many foolish, stubborn, and idiotic High Fae.  Illyrians understood the need to act, no matter the odds.  Madja, she mused, could be an exception.

Growling slightly, Danae glared back at the female.  “One day, when you work up the courage to leave, I will find a way to help you out.  Even if I think you’re a hateful coward right now.”

The other female stilled.  Why would you help me?  It’s not a part of our bargain.  After all, I am a hateful coward.  Her mental voice sounded off, tinged with something bitter.

“No one deserves to be a prisoner.”  Danae stepped forward, forcing the female to meet her gaze.  “Not even cowards.”

The female was quiet for a few moments, gaze unwavering.  Finally, she spoke.  How will I reach you?

Danae did her best not to crow with victory, however small it was.  “You’re daemati, I’m sure you’ll find a way,” she smirked.  “Now, our bargain.”

With a nod, the female reached out, touching a fingertip to the back of Danae’s hand.  A memory exploded, but not one of her own.  Danae watched twisting hallways unfurl in her mind as the female showed her the way out of the mountain.  When the vision ended, the female was gone.  But not without a final message.

Calliope.

* * * * *

The meeting had gone well.  No one died.  Unlike their other meetings, Rhysand remained after Feyre and Azriel winnowed away.  Or however the shadowy one managed to get around.  It was on his list of things to investigate, but Eris ignored his curiosity for the time being.

“To what do I owe the honor of your extended presence?”  Eris pushed open the meeting room door, neglecting to hold it for his host.

Rhysand simply leveled a smug smile at him.  “Just making sure you don’t try exploring my court again.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Eris said dryly.

“I’m not an idiot,” Rhysand chuckled, leading the way down the hall.  “You were feeling lonely when no one showed up for the last meeting, and you decided to investigate a little.”

“So you are aware of your habitual lateness,” Eris remarked.  “Good to know.”

“I don’t intend to let you poke around where you don’t belong,” Rhysand said, coming to a halt in the empty corridor.  “We’re allies, but I’m under no delusions that you won’t stab me in the back at the first opportunity.”

“Your powers of perception are enviable, as always,” Eris drawled, stopping a few feet away.  “But between the two of us, I know who is less trustworthy.  What good is an ally who will break vows of neutrality in front of all the High Lords?”

Rhysand stiffened at the reminder of the meeting in Dawn.  “If you’ll recall, I did no such thing.”

Eris barked a laugh.  “That’s right, only your mate and spymaster did.  Your hands are clean,” he said with a sneer.  “Except for the chair.”

Rhysand’s mouth tightened, but he remained silent.  A welcome reprieve.

“Say what you will, Rhysand, but I’ve always kept my word,” Eris said, striding down the hallway again.

Eris had only made it a few steps before Rhysand spoke again.  “The female has nearly healed,” he said, quietly enough that Eris had to strain to hear it.  “She’s nearly as infuriating as you are.”

He ignored the taunts, seeing them for the poisoned barbs they were.  Feyre had failed to pry open his defenses earlier, so now it was Rhysand’s turn.  Eris kept walking, his stride even.

“It seems that once the shock wore off, she decided to unleash her tongue,” Rhysand continued.  “I still haven’t decided on a punishment.  Perhaps you could share some ideas?”

“You’re perfectly capable of being a prick without my help,” Eris said coolly.  He kept his face carefully blank, unsure who was watching the encounter.  “Ask your mate.  She was creative enough in Spring.”

After that, Rhysand let him go.  When Eris looked over his shoulder, the male was gone.  No doubt seeking reassurances from his two-faced mate.  He snorted, making his way out of the winding corridors.  The wards prevented anyone from winnowing in and out without permission, which Rhysand was unlikely to grant, so he was forced to leave from the entry hall.

For a time, the only sound was the clicking of his boots, but as he approached the entry, raised voices met his ears.  Eris frowned, maintaining his leisurely pace.  He had no interest in the Court of Nightmares and their endless dramatics, though they had their uses.  If they were occupying the front hall, he’d have no choice but to spectate.  But that didn’t mean he was in a hurry to get there.

He rounded the corner, unsurprised to see a handful of Darkbringers taking up space in front of the massive entryway.  Eris pursed his lips, scanning for any useful information.  More than likely, it was some punishment or another.  Keir could have been bored and ordered his soldiers to hunt down someone for sport.  Eris didn’t particularly care, but he never wasted an opportunity to glean secrets.  Anything could be useful later.

Eris frowned, leaning against the wall while he waited.  The Darkbringers tightened their circle, corralling whoever it was into one corner.  In the gap between two dark armored bodies, he caught a glimpse of wings.  His frown deepened.  How had the Hewn City managed to trap an Illyrian within its walls?  And why?

One of the Darkbringers went down on one knee, fingers scrabbling at his throat.  The others backed up a step, reaching for the weapons they hadn’t yet drawn, allowing Eris to see what had spooked them.  A female.  One he recognized.  His mouth parted in shock.

The female was crouched low to the ground, a bloody fork in her hand.  Dark hair tumbled around her face, hazel eyes flashing against her deeply tanned skin.  Her teeth were bared in a snarl, but the furious expression did nothing to detract from the perfect symmetry of her features.  If anything, Eris found her more beautiful for it.  He cocked his head, remembering the terrified female from before.  She bore no similarity to the fearsome creature in the hall.

As he watched, another Darkbringer moved in, dagger half out of its sheath, but the female was quicker.  She slashed with her fork, cutting a line across the male’s cheekbone, then angling back for a second hit, slamming the blunt end into his temple.  Eris couldn’t stop the quirk of his lips.  A fork.  He ought to tell his mother about it.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he blinked and suddenly found the girl racing towards him.  She must have ducked through the gap in the guards, taking advantage of their clunky armor and reluctance to use weapons on a female armed so pathetically.  He could imagine the beating they’d receive later for allowing the injuries.  Keir’s legendary darkbringers, laid low by a piece of silverware.

The female’s bright eyes widened, then narrowed on him, determination etched into every line of her body as she neared.  She must have recognized him.

But then the damned fork was pressing into his jugular.  “Winnow us,” she hissed into his ear, fisting his collar and tugging him backwards.  He stumbled, off-balance.  For some reason, his fire wouldn’t come when he called.  He gritted his teeth, but not even a spark jumped from his fingertips.  “Winnow us,” she repeated, the sharp instrument digging into his skin.

As the Darkbringers barrelled towards them, Eris’ mind raced.  He could see the sweat on their brows and feel blood welling on his neck.  His blood heated.  Then an idea clicked into place.  His lips curled in a smirk, Eris pulled the female with him, his magic spearing across the world to the Middle.

* * * * *

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#eris x oc #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra #acotar fic #eris vanserra fic

[mommyofkittens]

A Court of Fallen Heroes -Chapter 2:  "  God Forbid...  "

 Hello! I updated the story on Archive of Our Own! It is not edited, I was in a hurry, but i will check it out tonight.

Kisses and hugs!

UPDATE: I EDITED THE STORY ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN!

Author’s P.o.V:

           Before the first war, five hundred years ago, when humans grew tired of the faerie’s tyranny upon their kind, there was this plain saying, who gained power through the blood of every slaughtered male and female, regardless of their nature. It was a chanted, vicious poem, spreading malevolent or honourable effects once it was spoken.

          Even though it was brought into this world in the same very moment as the spilling of The Cauldron, The Mother hid it from the world, for it was a calamity to the ones that fitted the category. Then, after years of being preserved in the back of the minds of the population, it surfaced when a group of celestial beings fell into our circle, commanded by a wrathful god who ruled a young world.

          ‘ Like calls to like. ‘

          It was the truth. But a very bitter truth.

          For this, the mortals suffered tremendous atrocities: skinned alive, enslaved and worked until they died of fatigue in the mines of the faeries, spitted on and stripped of any independence. It was even worse if you were a half-faerie, if somehow, you’re mother was taken by a whore and fucked by several sharp-eared bastards.

          The reason may seem futile and… dispassionate. The creatures thought that mankind was made for this, for pain and hardship: pain calls to pain, misery calls to misery. They weren’t nice even to their own comrades: the lesser faeries. The differences disgusted the High-Faes: the rounded ears that remembered them of humans, long limbs, glowing skin, horns and clawed, webbed feet. This was all deemed to be inferior and shameful.

          But all of this injustice was so far away. It didn’t mean that the consequences weren’t present now: the wall itself was evidence that scars remain and some don’t even heal.

          The winged male, roaming the skies at this late hour thought the same. His memories of the dark cell rarely affected him when he was conscious, but the trauma that resurfaced every time he slept was still proof enough that he needed more than climbing out of the abyss.

          The war with Hybern didn’t last very long, but both him and the rest of his family, suffered great loses for a merely illusion of peace.

          Some things where not good before that, to start with, but others grew colder and colder. He thought of the relationship between the three sisters, that was hanging by a thread and then at him and his brothers. The Archeron family was scattered anyway, but after their absent father died during the war and the other remaining sisters being transformed in faeries, the hole grew bigger, pathless.

          Somehow, it seemed like destiny made them meet. One sister for each brother. The Mother was so sure that the pairs were able to pull each other from bad memories and heal their hearts together. But it was not that simple: Nesta wished to see no one around her and Elain was so closed inside her shell-shaped mind, that rarely someone could reach inside of it. He wished that someone to be him, but The Cauldron made a mistake and gave the middle sister a mate that didn’t fit her.

          Rhysand was the only one that was content with his wife, but he got his own plate of agony for fifty years before he reached this point of alleviation.

          Azriel’s gut tightened at the thought of what his High Lord had to endure for the sake of Velaris. 

          Recently, the two of them had enough of Nesta’s rebellious behaviour. Only yesterday, at the breakfast table, they got the bill from Rita’s restaurant and some gambling magazine. The Shadowsinger didn’t interfere with their decision, it was not his resolution to take. He had other things on his head to worry, so much that they kept him up at night.

          It wasn’t about the money, because the inner circle got plenty of them in the treasury. It was about her unhealthy way of coping.

          Feyre took the drastic decision to end her sister’s suffering by sending her into the one of the shittiest places on earth: Windhaven Camp. Azriel brushed the sensation that it wasn’t the place to help Nesta, blaming it on his distate for the illyrians and their backward mentality.

          He didn’t deny the fact that the oldest sister needed and impulse to step out of the hole she was falling. He understood the urge to drink and fuck her way out of trauma and forget about bad memories and powers she couldn’t control.

          Azriel did the same, after all.

          But her behaviour hurted more than just Feyre, it scared Elain too, pushed her out of everyone’s reach and he couldn’t bear this.

          His jaw tightened at the picture of her delicate frame, coming back to the town house after she went to visit Nesta. Her shoulders were brought inward and she kept her elegant features hidden. He didn’t need his shadows to read her posture. The tears stains from her dress where proof enough that things didn’t end well between them. Elain didn’t spoke to anyone that night, or the day after and Azriel never had the courage to go and say a word to soothe her heart.

          He found himself on the hall of her dorm once, hiding in the dark, waiting like a dog for her glistening appearance. Azriel could imagine Elain, only in her pink nightgown he knew she was wearing. It was her favourite. He could trace the fragile silhouete of her body with the fingers of his mind through the thin silky material. It covered nothing. It was only a shield.

          Never to touch. Always out of reach.

          The Shadowsinger took a deep breath and stretched his wings again, feeling the warmth of summer caressing his membranous wings. He felt his pants grew tighter. He didn’t want a damn boner in the open sky. He was not his brother, he could hold in his temper, his needs, even if they grew bigger each day. Pleasure hall wasn���t enough and he felt dirty screwing an unknown woman and picturing Elain under him, how she’ll sound while he entered her, how her breath would hitch.

          Focus, his shadows seemed to whisper in his ear, curling around his ear lobe.

          I wish I could, Azriel answered, more to himself than to his companions.

          He switched his attention towards the final trees, trying desperately to soothe the ache from his belly. The stench of resin hit his nostrils first, before a pair of big firs came into view. He recognised their lining that marked the entrance of Velaris.

          There was something odd about this night. As he approached the wards protecting the city, Azriel realised that the sky was fuller. The stars were piled on top of each other like they shielded against something, or shielding someone. Not even the spymaster’s favourite’s giant constellation, Orion, wasn’t to be seen, outshined by the prodigious mass of shining bulbs. The moon was coated by opaque grey clouds, leaving the sky open and somehow forsaken, reflecting Azriel’s own unhappiness.

          The night air was unusually heavy and hot, too much even for the beginning of summer. Inhaling it felt like being trapped underwater, violating your nose and giving the male a headache. His black illyrian leathers were tight and made him sweat underneath. Also, he didn’t see any animals running down the forests paths, didn’t hear the rustle of leaves or howling wolves.

          Azriel didn’t take the signs as something bad, but rather a normal way of acting when it came to solstices. More so because the summer one held a meaningful symbolism: the light that helps us find a goal in our journey, setting us to the right path and having a new beginning.

          He lost a low chuckle through his lips. Azriel wasn’t the one to believe such bullshit. In his five hundred years of living, he never saw that guiding light, he reached his goals through torture and patience. The latter was beginning to fade as he grew more impatient, longing for warmth and the feeling of belonging to someone.

          Inside, he kept his emotions under a firm grip, knowing that displaying them was a sign of weakness. And he didn’t have the freedom of being vulnerable anymore.

          Sadly, that made him forget how to show them. Or how they felt.

          When Azriel passed the protection layer, the air changed swiftly from the thick and almost liquid one on the mountains, to one a lot more breathable and flowery.

          ‘ Thank the Mother. ‘, he thought, escaping the honeyed atmosphere from the outside.

          The lights of the mansion were on. The meeting has started. Or already finished. He only hoped that he didn’t arrived late. Not that he was eager to see Nesta’s punishment or sense Elain’s mating bond on her.

          He cringed at that and landed on the balconies threshold, donning his frozen mask.

          " Brother. " Rhysand acknowledged his presence first, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s, squeezing gently before eyeing Cassian.

          The High Lady nodded in his direction " She needs to come to her damn senses, " then fixated her eyes somewhere in the distance, putting a shield between her and the world around. " otherwise, I don’t know what else I can do to help her. "

          " You’ve done enough. " Rhys delicately assured her, brushing his fingers through Feyre’s light brown curls. " You’ve helped her enough. You and Elain, Amren. Cassian. Everyone tried to give her space and a place here. With us. "

          So it didn’t go smoothly.

          There is nothing to bind them anymore, his shadows whispered, uncovering themselves in the dim light of night.

          " I am sorry I didn’t get here on time. " Azriel spoke, stepping silently and covering the archway with his wings. " I had business to attend to. " His remarked didn’t pass unnoticed by his High Lord.

          ‘ My office. ‘, Rhysand said in his mind.

          ‘ Is not urgent, but it is something you need to hear. ‘

          " We convinced her to come with me to the camps. " Cassian added, putting one ankle over the other knee. 

          " More like forced her. " Rhysand completed.

          Azriel remarked how his brother took time arranging himself today: with lacquered brown boots, ironed shirt and freshly shaved.

          " I knew she wasn’t going to take this easy. " Amren was seated neatly on the couch, toying with her new favourite bracelet that Varian gave her as a present " But something tells me you’ll manage. "

          She gave Cassian a half nod, smiling in her own devilish way. Azriel knew why Rhysand brought her here, so he would preserve any sort of familial bond between him and Feyre’s sister.

          The spymaster senses the tension in the room and scans it rapidly, locating the source of the strange ambiance. It came in big waves from Cassian, who kept his shoulder straight and his muscles contracted.

          " She’s scared, tormented. " Cass draws a breath, visibly irritated with the stubborn older Archeron sister.

          " Let her dig her own grave, boy, then offer her a hand. " Amren stirs the wine in her almost empty glass, licking her red lips.

          " I thought that’s what this past year has been: reaching to her. " his brother closed his eyes, a pained look crossing his features for a second, " But I received only death looks and venomous words. "

          Azriel knew what he was talking about: the gift he threw in the Sidra, last solstice, after the fight they had on the market streets.  After she made it clear she wants nothing to do with them. With him.

          He was the only one out of the Inner Circle who knew what they’ve lost that day: The Veritas. The apple sized bulb, incastrated with truth magic, that required the Spymaster’s infiltration in the Court of Nightmares’s dungeons.

          Azriel knew the reason behind this gesture, to show Nesta the truth, Cassian’s truth. Even though he knew the General’s feeling towards the oldest sister, it was his own secret to tell.

          " Keep reaching out your hand. " Amren stated, piercing Cass with her silver smoked eyes.

          " I’ve gotten young warriors in the line before. " Cassian dared to joke, shifting from his previous pose and coming closer to where the Shadowsinger was standing near de balconie’s archway.

          " Nesta’s not some young buck pushing the boundaries. " his brother contested, kneeling at Feyre’s feet and caging her palms in his own.

          " I can handle her. "

          " She’ll give you a hard time. " their High Lady spoke, shaking out of her sadness, " And she’ll enjoy every second of it. "

          " She’s miserable. " Amren rose, finishing her glass, ready to get back to her house. " Too bad that rule doesn’t exist, or is not exactly as precise as I made it to be. "

          " Then make sure to add it later. " Rhys helped Feyre to the base of the stairs, " We don’t want to be caught frauding the system. It is enough Keir doesn’t have us at his heart and seeks any wrong step to split the Night Court. "

          Elain had walked in halfway through his brother’s testimony. " I left her baggage in the hallway. " she spoke softly, hiding her hands in the purple dress she was wearing, " It is small. I don’t think it will rise any problems of transportations. "

          He inhaled unconsciously, feeling the lilies and daisies smell al over her. She kept a solemn face, never taking her eyes off of Rhysand.

          The spymaster shot a look towards her soft brown eyes, asking himself if she was strong enough to bear her sister’s deadly arrows that were about to come her way. But Elain’s gaze remained steady as she listened to Rhys, not sparing him a glance. So he changed his focus to Cassian, who looked pale and angry.

          " I’ll bring it up to the House of Wind. " Cassian agreed, stepping on the balcony. " How’s Varian accommodating the weather from Velaris? "

          " I show him new things every night. " the little devil throws us a meaningful look. " He loves the view from our windows. "

          Feyre laughs softly and Elain blushes, turning her gaze to the ground.

          A sudden feeling of tiredness settled on Azriel's shoulders and he felt a wave of pain crossing his body.

          The sky, his shadows whispered, the sky.

          He blamed it on his lack of sleeping, but as he turned to watch the night sky, a shooting star passed silently and a ghostly smell of amber made his heart ache.

  The Continent

           " This world is the nurse of all we know, This world is The Mother of all we feel. "

          Mother of all we feel…

          I will bring you to my feet!

          Don’ t falter, Evening Star!...

          Your existence is like mud under my nails.

          Stop it, I pray to the different voices around, watching the scenes fly pass me: an old man, a young king, two ladies helping me get up and blood. So much blood.

          The Three Dead Kings are waiting for their Daughter.

          Their blood is all over your hands, Queen of Ashes.

          Make it stop, I beg again, feeling lost inside the darkness.

          Strike her again!...

          Mother of all we feel…

          I’ll make a crown out of your bones.

          I have been waiting for you…

          A gentle caress touches my forehead and a pair of hazel eyes passes swiftly trough my mind.

          Wake up, I beg you.

          A piercing man’s scream shatters my eardrums and I jolt, barely aware of where my body starts and ends. The ache inside my heart is agonizing and I feel like I faint several times before my mind is fully anchored to my material body.

          I always had the uncertain sensation that my death will be miserable. And I always blamed myself for thinking too much, for feeling too hard and for playing the victim too often. But the truth is: Death was always stalking me – like a lovely sister of Bad Luck that became my friend -, eradicating in her path everything that was dear to me. Grandparents, uncles, dogs, birds and recently, the parental love that I never had, actually.

          I blamed the cancer, because that is what the fate seemed to have prepared for us: hereditary colon cancer. I was afraid that I had it, but my mother was too scared to do some analyses, refusing to hear the truth and preferring to stay blind. So I did the same.

          But that doesn’t mean I escaped. I experienced another kind of illness.

          I am not american, I came from the Balkans, from a part of Europe where fairy tales, curses and legends are at home.

          Not recently, maybe years prior to this day, my mother, an aunt and I visited an old lady. She lived in a village with unpaved streets and we paid her to do a tarot session and read in our coffee cups.

          That was the day I knew some higher divinity had a vendetta against me.

          The lady was ancient, reaching – after the precision of a teenager – a critical level of ninety years. She smelled like rotten eggs and something characteristic for an old woman with no bathroom inside her house and no sewerage. Her house was made out of adobe and lacked a few windows, the plaster had peeled off of the exterior walls, leaving the horse’s shit and wheat straws to be seen.

          The interior wasn’t any better. It stank of sauerkraut, it was very chilly, dull and inhospitable, with a raw wood floor and an iron bed covered by a smeary flattened mattress.

          She invited us to sit around a little table in a slightly tidier room. It seemed like it was made especially for guests who were into pagan games. The wooden furniture was covered by a hand-sewn table cloth, coloured with red, white and blue thread. The chairs had red leather seats, and the few windows were covered with soot and embroidered curtains. The crone kept here an old sewing machine, with pedals and a sharp spindle in witch she impaled three porcelain dolls.

          " Keeps the dark forces away. " She hinted, observing me.

          The old woman had a glassy eye, corrupted by cataracts and the other one held such a bright blue, that made you wonder if she was blind or not. She looked more like a witch than someone’s granny. She missed a good part of her gray hair and only a few tufts remained trapped in a bun at the base of her head, covered by a black handkerchief. The woman wore a mourning gown, a full-length dress, with a brown apron hanging around her navel. A nephew of hers died of a chromosomal disease that made him look like an experiment of God.

          I never believed her. I knew this was a form of punishment, implied by the one who ruled up or down, because she was playing with dark magic.

          The crone opened the books to read my life and looked at me crookedly.

          With a confident, wrinkled hand, the woman put three cards on the table, after she shuffled them and had me cut them three times.

          4 of hearts. 5 of clubs. 3 of spades.

          I don’t recall with what lies she charmed me with, I was horrified by her looks. Some years passed before I opened up a discussion with my mother and she remembered me of the crone’s premonitions.

          It was about an unexpected, long journey on a foreign continent, devoid of good people and love.

          " She called it a place with no pure magic. " My mother added, drinking from her cup of coffee.

          She told me that someone puts me through great obstacles and I will suffer many losses in my path. In the end I was to be successful, but with terrible costs.

          " To save only one hand for the price of the whole body. " My mother raises her brows, and the memories seem to torment her for a second. " Quite strange if you ask me. "

          " She swore, by the tongue of death actually, that the man from the shadows is waiting for you. He is the only one that can save you. "

          Shortly after our meeting with the witch, she died. It seemed she had gone mad. Her kids found her trapped in the space between the stove and the wall. She was frigid.

          Mother of all we fell…

          I claim you, mou nafsah…

          I manage to take a deep breath, feeling my trachea obstructed by mucus and salt. A convulsive cough makes the capillaries in my eyes to stop pumping blood, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar pressure. My mouth opens, gasping for oxygen and a loud moan escapes my crusty lips when a spasmodic pain flourishes in my body.

          The sounds echo around me and I worry that some of my neighbours might hear me. But I couldn’t stop. I try to tense my muscles, but another wave of nausea storms my stomach. I twist and vomit on the ground beneath me.

          " God forbid… " I whisper, feeling the air hitch in my throat.

          The smell of salted water and fresh flowers decrease my nausea, and my vision begins to clear slowly, patches of light dispersing the darkness. I blink a few times, feeling my eyelids glued together.

          Only after a few moments I am able to see the scenery. A vast meadow, fresh and… alive, in a strange way,

          " God forbid… " I hum lowly, touched by the sudden beauty that surrounds me. " Where am I? "

          One of my vertebrae cracks when I raise my head wearily, reminding me of the tangled position I was in.

          The patch of grass was guarded by rocky, ink-black mountains, which shone in the distance like the precious jewels of an imperial crown. It looked like I was inside a dormant volcano.

          The sun shone brightly over me, warming my tangled, frizzy hair and making me cringe at the sensation of dirt and salt tightening the skin of my shoulders. Carefully, I turn around, enthralled by the clear lake stretched out, alluring insects around it. A thin strip of sand noted the difference between the water’s edge and the beginning of the grass.

          I must have fallen in it, that’s why my clothes were drenched and covered with a dusty pellicle of dry salt.

          Dizzy, I look at my filthy, creased thumbs and use my mouth to breath. My nose was stuffy and it hurt terribly, like it broke when I landed.

          A gray stag lowers his head to drink water.

          " Don’t… " I start, feeling my hoarse voice rubbing against my larynx. I clear it and try again: " It’s salted. Don’t. "

          He watches me, and for a second, we both look skeptical at each other. Is he questioning my existence? I watch his high, branched horns and involuntary smile at his long snout and bright, gentle eyes.

          I pull back, not wanting to scare him and squeeze my head between my palms, unable to neglect my growing headache. "I am sorry… "

          I was losing it. My minds, my spirit of observation, my instinct. It couldn’t be true. I fucking fell out of the sky, through nine circles of worlds. Something told me it resembled Dante’s Inferno, but I knew I wasn’t in Hell. At least not so soon. This place was more like Heaven, not burning flames and red demons wanting to get your soul.

          And I felt very much alive.

          I was probably drugged or drunk or the fall on my cat's bowl must have done something to my brain, because I couldn't be here.

          My memory wasn’t a reliable source either. Broken and discontinuous fragments appear in my brain: Icarus caught in the air, Nadia, volunteering for that blood donation, 3:33, the clock’s batteries, the 3rd floor and the man in the black suit. Everything was like a tornado, always moving and changing, without sitting next to each other so that I could make sense out of this.

          The intention to cry makes me stiff and I feel like crying, because I sigh and hiccup and my eyes sting and my throat hurts, but I can't feel the tears on my cheeks. I can feel the drops gathering in the corners of my eyes, but nothing bluries my vision. I only feel a confusing emptiness that gnaws at my intestines.

          The stag pities me and the grass seems to wrap around my ankles, comforting me. For a second, is not cold and earthy, but my cat’s soft fur brushing my skin, welcoming me back home, telling me he missed me so much.

          My dry and rough voice runs through the calm of the place, over and over again and I mourn. My existence, my destiny, my life. I beg for help over and over and try to get up, but I fall to my knees and feel desperate when the only thing that answers me is my voice’s echoes hitting the onyx mountains.

          In an unconscious attempt to wake me up from this nightmare, I strangle myself and even when my nails are dangerously deep in my skin and my blood no longer reaches my head, I can't get out.

          It was real. I had indeed fallen through those circles and landed in a lake. In the lake next to me. I don't know how I got out, but it saved me from drowning. Or maybe something else happened. I didn’t know.

          The stag was gone and the grass had fallen off my ankles. I was left alone, face up, lying on my back and looking at the empty blue sky. So empty that it reminded me of how I felt right now.

          And what are you going to do? I wonder. Are you going to die here without knowing the truth?

          " I do not know. " I whisper, feeling my chapped lips scratching at each other. "  I want to die here. I want to die. "

          Mother of all we feel…

          I have been waiting for you…

          The song in my ears, which danced between my eardrums even before I woke up, makes me get on all fours and crawl, absent from my own body and indifferent to the cuts that pierced my palms and knees. I crawl and wheeze and cuss until I barely breath.

          I don't even know how long I move like that, with my eyes on a clear horizon and my mouth dry. The desperation was my only comrade right now, pushing me further and faster. I had nothing, but desperation and ambition flowing through my blood.

          After an infernal time I wake up face to face with the foot of the mountains chain. The black rock shone as brightly as it did from the lake, like billions of tiny diamonds were encrusted in it. I brush the tips of my fingers against the material.

          A bolt of electric power dashes through my muscles, followed by thousands of whispers in my ears. Goosebumps appear all over my soaking skin and my body is suddenly awake. The cells in my body vibrate, enthusiastic and respond to the mountains, rushing to the tips of my nails, warming my hand. I am aware of the stag coming closer, of the green serpent roaming silent at the bottom of the lake. I see the flowers bloom under my attention and the trees bending in my presence. A sparkle comes to life at the connection and I drew back, perplexed.

          Maybe this place has a large energy field around it, flowing from mountain to mountain and protecting it from any technology. Maybe that was the reason it was not populated.

          The stag by the lake appears, sniffing in the direction of a narrow opening in the rock. I could scarcely slip through it. I look at him puzzled, feeling the madness that settles in my head.

          " What are the chances that you will understand me and know that I want to get out of here? "

          I speak more for myself, and the shock crosses me when he nods and the crown of horns goes towards me.

          " God forbid… " I chant for the third time and I lower my head, sticking my fingers in my eyes. " I think I'll have to get used to it, until it shows me that it's all in my head. "

          It wasn’t just my imagination. I could smell fresh grass and clean water, I could feel my body stiff and my extremities swollen, I was aware of the headache and my ears popping from time to time from the pressure. My feet ached from the gravel and my knees and elbows stung as I crawled on all fours.

          The only thing that made me doubt the surrounding landscape was my memories, probably scattered because of the fall and the long sleep. Sometimes I got so close to a detail in my head I could brush it with my fingertips, only to disappear as if it never existed.

          I dare to reach out, wanting to caress the animal on the fluffy head. I stop a few inches from him, noticing my filthy palms, full of mud, blood and lacerations. I would have tarnished his beauty, just to fulfill my desire to feel contact with a living being.

          "Thank you... " I bow to him, touching my heart with my palm.

          After a few seconds, his eyes widen in warning, blinking at me, wanting me to understand. " I am sorry. I can’t… I… I will be careful. Thank you… "

          I try to slip through the small crack, but the opening is too narrow for me. I remove my hoodie, leaving only my bra and jeans on. Holding the piece of fabric in my hand, I manage to pass through the tunnel. My clothes went two shades darker from the dust on the rough walls and my exposed skin rubbed painfully against the sharp edges of the mountain.

          Finally seeing myself on the other side of the volcano, the desolating image strikes me, causing my anxiety to reach alarming levels.

          The beauty and the peace inside the oasis contrasted sharply with the barren earth and gray sky. Life seemed to disappear, being replaced only by a vain hope of survival.

          Left and right, miles of yellow-grass meadow laid deserted, and here and there were a few peaks of brown mountains filled with smoke from the houses that lived on the ridge.

          I turn to the volcano from which I just came out, just to be petrified. There was nothing behind me. No sign of it, no rough wall of bright onyx, no sign of a stag or fresh grass. The sky was just as cloudy and the pasture just as barren.

          Even the feeling of calmness ran out of my system.

          " Well, maybe not everything is real... Or beautiful… "

          I wave my hands in the air where I knew I came from, but I don't feel anything. I lay on my knees, desperately looking for proof that everything was true. When I feel like I'm losing hope, I catch a glimpse of the black mountain and the patch of grass leading to the lake. 

          It seemed like the air was cut by a knife and the opening lead to another dimension. 

          " How is that possible?  "

           I look around and notice the dogwood tree, the same height as me and with a few budding flowers. It marks the entrance to the oasis.

          Unsure of what I was going to do next, I set off. If I were to stay here, I would never know what happened to me, how I got here, or where I am. I had no chance of returning.

          Sadness grips me and I sigh unconsciously, wandering the barren pasture, heading for what I thought was the East.

          Dark thoughts surround me and I can barely find the strength to keep going. The desolating atmosphere wasn’t helping me at all with my internal grief.

          My parents wouldn’t know where I am. They’ll probably imagine that I had committed suicide out of love, as all young people do today. The feeling of my watch on my left hand was a constant memory of the person that I loved back home. What will she do?

          God, how cruel everything was. I couldn't even remember her name. The terror of forgetting her brown eyes or round face embraces me and I start to cry. I could finally feel the tears streaming down the scratches on my cheeks.

          My Icarus. My sweet Icarus. He was going to be left alone. Who will feed him? Who will love him? My little savior…

          I cover my face and stop, unable to cope with the pressure that covered me like a blanket, suffocating me.

           " Miss, are you alright? "

#azriel #azriel headcanons #azriel x reader #azriel x original female character #azriel shadowsinger #Azriel Imagine #Azriel fanficition #Archive of our own #Cassian #Nesta #Feyre #Rhysand #Morrigan #A court of thorns and roses fanfiction #A Court of Thorns and Roses #A Court of Fallen Heroes #The Shadowsinger #The Spymaster #Amren #Varian #Elain

[the-fireheart-weekly]

✨ Feyre, darling! ✨

#feyre #feyre cursebreaker #feyre x rhysand #high lady feyre #feyre darling #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of dreams #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #sarahjmaas #sarah j maas #character art #character design #female illustrators #illustrators on tumblr #original art #sarah j. maas

[acourtofbooksandfantasy]

Starfall - Azriel x fem! Reader

Disclaimer: this is my first piece I’ve ever published. I’m not taking requests but would be open to ideas for new things to write! Let me know what you think. I had this idea the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about it until I wrote it down. I also originally named the main fem! character but decided to make it Y/N at the last minute, so if her name is in there then whoops! Either way, enjoy xx

Starfall. The most beautiful night in Prythian. Souls traveling to a far off place, leaving a blinding beauty in their wake. The Night Court prepared for weeks to welcome their passage.

Each member of the Inner Circle enjoyed this day, but Azriel often used this day to mourn. And to hope. Each year, he would wish upon those flying glimmers of starlight. Praying. Hoping. One day, he would find his mate.

In the past, he used the evening to drink and pray and hope that Mor would realize she was his mate. But when she and Emerie confirmed their mating bond two years prior, Azriel simply used this evening to wish upon the stars for someone of his very own.

This year was not any different, until two months before when a secret Illyrian camp was raided and a young woman was found, wingless. She was battered and bruised, terrified of any male who came near her. Cassian had brought her back to the House of Wind with Feyre’s help, to give her a place to recover and rest.

Over the coming weeks, she revealed to Mor and Amren that her name was Y/N, and that she had been sold to the foul Illyrians at a high price to help support her family. She was used for work, cleaning and cooking, and kept in a small room. She revealed her wings were taken after a visit where Rhysand and Cassian required Devlon to start training all Illyrian females. As she told the story, even Amren shed a tear.

Cassian and Azriel were introduced to Y/N, along with Nesta, to help train her. Even without wings, Feyre believed it would do her much good to know how to protect herself. And Y/N vowed she would never again let someone lay hands on her unless she asked. Over the weeks, Cassian and Azriel coached from the sidelines as Nesta and Mor demonstrated and helped, since Y/N still feared the males being too close. Each day she grew a little stronger, and became more confident. It became evident just how much the training was helping her mentally when she agreed to come out for a night at Rita’s with the Inner Circle. Much to Morrigan’s delight, as she would finally have a friend to dance with who wouldn’t make inappropriate comments like Cass.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch from across the bar as Mor and Y/N jumped and spun, without a care in the world. However, he became alarmed as he noticed two dark males approaching her from behind. Each one reached to grab her arms, and he growled as he flew from his chair. He pushed the men back, scooping Y/N into his arms and winnowing both her and Mor to the back of the bar where he knew no one would be. When he put her down, Y/N stared at him breathlessly. She couldn’t believe it, but when he came out of nowhere to rescue them, she hadn’t felt fear. In fact, she felt a strange pull in her stomach. Deep, aching. Longing. Like, she had known him before, in another time perhaps.

The mating bond.

It caused her to step back as it snapped into place.

But Azriel didn’t seem to notice a thing.

“Are you alright?” He asked, gently brushing a hand to her elbow as she stood, star struck.

“Yes. I’m fine….thank you.” She replied after a few awkward seconds.

Mor gave her a puzzling look, “Uh…okay you two let’s go home. Az…”

He grabbed their hands and winnowed them back to their home.

That night, Y/N sat alone in her room, feeling a pull towards the shadowsinger’s room. She knew she should probably stay, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she went. Her curiosity got the best of her, and all of a sudden she was stood outside his bedroom. One hand ready to knock, but unsure of what she would say. She stood there nervously until the door cracked open, and Azriel popped his head out into the hall. He was only wearing some trousers, his hair disheveled from the slumber he’d just awoken from.

“ Y/N. Is there…something wrong?” He asked nervously.

“I…I…” Y/N scrambled for a reason to be in front of his door, “I sometimes have nightmares. I can’t fall asleep because I’m afraid of having a terrible dream.”

“Oh. I see.” Azriel said.

Y/N stood there, unsure of what to do next, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sor-“

But before she could finish her thought, he grabbed her wrist gently and brought her inside.

“You can stay for a little while if you’d like,” Azriel started, “I have nightmares too. About my hands. And my mother. We can watch out for each other. And I can take you back to your room when you’re ready. You take the bed, I can sleep here.” He gestures to the small couch at the foot of his bed.

“Azriel I don’t want to take your bed.” Y/N stated, feeling guilty about coming in the first place.

“I insist.” Azriel gestured to the bed.

She sat down on the edge, as he laid himself on the couch that was barely big enough for him and his enormous wings. Even with them all tucked in, he nearly spilled out the sides of the couch.

She laid down as well, waiting for slumber to set in, but it didn’t, because she could only focus on the tug from her to him.

Close to an hour had passed, when finally a whisper emerged from the quiet. “Az?” Y/N lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes?” Azriel replied timidly.

“Can you…can you come up here?” Y/N asked rather calmly.

Silence filled the room, before the tall and dark Illyrian stood from the couch, slowly setting himself down on the other side of the bed. He lay flat on his back as well, as if trying to avoid touching her at all costs.

She reached across the bed and found his hand, interlocking her fingers in his. She rubbed her thumb along the lines of his scars.

“Thank you. For rescuing me. Maybe I can help rescue you from your nightmares?” Y/N said.

Azriel smiled at the ceiling in the dark, “Perhaps.”

________________________________________

Each of the girls from the Inner Circle had gone to the seamstress weeks prior to the event to have gowns made for the celebration. Each of the girls selected a gown some shade of Night Court black, except for Y/N. Feyre and the rest of the Night Court females found a gorgeous silver silk fabric, embedded with tiny crystals. When held up to the light, the fabric twinkled like a sea of stars.

“ Y/N! Since you are our special guest for the celebration, you should have a dress made from this!” Mor shouted, shoving a pile of the fabric into Y/N’s arms.

Y/N stared, mouth wide open, “I’m not sure, I don’t want to…”

Feyre stopped her by gentle placing a hand on her shoulder. “You are not a burden, and no one will be upset if you outshine every one of us. You deserve to have a night as fabulous as you are after all you’ve endured.”

Y/N smirked and nodded. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll have a dress made from this!”

________________________________________

The males waited, rather impatiently, in the front hall at the bottom of the staircase.

“You all have been getting ready since 10 o’clock this morning, you can’t SERIOUSLY still be primping can you??” Cassian grumbled as he leaned back on the wall.

Morrigan exited her room where they had all been drinking, giggling, and preparing for the evening. “You clearly have no understanding of what getting ready means to females, “ she said as she rolled her eyes at the general.

One by one, each of the girls stepped out. Feyre and Y/N were the last left inside the room. “You look lovely, Y/N. I’m so glad you’ve become one of our best friends.” Feyre gave Y/N a small squeeze. Y/N smiled, still appearing somewhat nervous for this evening.

Feyre studied her face closely, “He will think you are the most magnificent creature in the room tonight,” she whispered with a wink.

All the breath left Y/N’s lungs as she thought of the spymaster.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.

Her heart pounded as Feyre gave her hand a quick squeeze before heading to the staircase. “Come along, Y/N. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

________________________________________

His breath caught in the back of his throat at the sight of her at the top of the staircase.

The floor length gown had a deep v down the front, with two sheer straps that wrapped over her shoulders and crossed in the back. The silky fabric flowed as she took each step. She shimmered like starlight, and as the shimmering fabric moved it made it as thought Y/N herself was glowing in the night.

“Holy shit.” Cassian mumbled under his breath. Nesta elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to go into a coughing fit.

As Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, everyone stopped what they were doing.

“Well, shall we?” Rhysand asked with a playful grin, simultaneously locking arms with his mate and nudging his spymaster brother towards the girl in the sparkling gown.

Azriel and Y/N stood for a moment. Y/N’s eyes remained focused on her feet, and Azriel watched as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. In that moment, when she looked up and locked eyes with him, he felt everything. A rushing of magic, or spirit, or something, coursed through his veins.

“Mate,” he said, so softly that only she could hear.

They remained frozen in time, stood there, taking in one another. As if their souls needed time to catch up on all the time they had been apart.

Azriel extended a hand to her, and their hands intertwined as they left the front hall. As they walked, Azriel leaned in and whispered to his mate, “You know, it might be hard to keep my hands off of you tonight.” Y/N peered up at him through her thick eyelashes. “You are quick to forget, I have not accepted the bond yet,” she replied with a smirk.

“You wound me, my love,” he stated with a look of bewilderment and shock. It took everything in him not to scoop her into his arms and winnow back to his room, to have his way with her right then and there.

________________________________________

They danced most of the night. So much so, that Cassian made several jokes about how he’d never seen his brother dance that much in their entire lives. It didn’t bother Y/N or Azriel one bit.

The couple stopped to sit and watch as the souls began to descend across the sky, traveling to wherever they belong. Azriel couldn’t help but watch his mate as she stared into the sky, absolutely enamored with her.

Y/N could feel the sting of his stare on her cheek. She turned to him, and reached across the table, her hand closed holding an object tightly inside. “I’d like to give you something,” she smiled. Azriel gave her a perplexed look, opening her hands to find a macaron.

He looked at the pastry, then his mate, and back to the pastry. “Are…are you certain?”

“I’ve never been more certain in my life.” Y/N replied confidently.

Azriel forced himself to savor every bite of the macaron, when really he wanted to shove the whole thing into his mouth so he could whisk her away from the party. Once he was finally finished, he stood, gesturing for Y/N to take his hand.

Cassian shouted from across the dance floor, “Hey brother!! Don’t be too loud tonight, SOME of us need our beauty rest!!” Nodding his head towards Rhysand. Feyre smacked him across the back of his head and Rhysand laughed. Azriel let out a low growl, but Y/N placed her hand on his lower back and stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Take me home, shadowsinger.”

And they winnowed away into the night, as fast as the spirits had traveled across the midnight sky.

#azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #illyrian #rhys x feyre #high lady feyre #feyre x rhysand #sjmaas #sarah j maas #acomaf #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acosf #acowar #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #shadowsinger #Azriel x fem! #starfall

[myloversthesunrise]

but in your sacred air i am full of light (ix)

Lin felt his violet gaze upon her face, and suddenly all of her senses were heightened of their situation. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his exposed chest and the smooth bare skin. His folded hands were nearly touching the side of her thigh and their bodies were sitting in close proximity, only within one foot of space. The room was dark, only lit with flickering lights of the candle and the air was cool, calling for a warm bed or another’s embrace. After the lover’s stunt he had pulled earlier which caused the butterflies in her stomach, Lin decided it would be to drag on her work and avoid eye contact with the man. Lest she began to desire him and started something she was going to regret.

rhysand x original character | not canon compliant | can be read as a reader fic if you don’t mind her physical description | AO3

chapter: i. never be rude to a faerie | ii. never give them your true name | iii [a ghost from the past] | iv. faeries cannot lie | v. faeries cannot lie [ii] | vi. never make a bargain with a faerie | vii. [the dreamers, hopeful] | viii. [the dreamer, the protector] | ix. [the dreamer, the protector (ii)]

warnings: discussions from the sexual harassment in the previous chapter

word count: 4893

notes: surprise bitch. you thought you'd seen the last of me, didn't you? okay on a more serious note, this is the last chapter i'm writing before i get on the HIATUS. technically speaking it's still the same chapter. the early draft had nearly 9k word count so i split it into two and now you have a little bonus chapter :D more rhys and lin here and i really am trying to put in some action but please be patient with me :( i hope you'll enjoy!!

Lin took a horrified glance at Rhys’ bed hair and exposed chest. The first three of his buttons were unbuttoned, revealing a smooth brown chest. He had ditched his expensive clothes for a plain black cotton shirt with breeches of the same color. The only thing that remained the same was his leather boots.

Ada snapped her head to look at Lin and wait for her explanations, but all she saw was her wide eyes and gaping mouth, staring at the fae in front of them with the most flabbergasted expression Ada had ever seen.

“Lin,” the vine-haired faerie called her. “Do you know this... male?” She demanded as one of her hand vaguely gestured to the faerie in front of them.

Ada’s question broke Lin out of her trance and she nodded furiously. “He’s my friend,” Lin reassured while moving to stand in front of Ada with Rhysand to her back, showing her trust to him. The young woman held Ada’s extended hand with both of hers tightly to assure the protective fae.

“Don’t worry about her,” Despite not facing Rhys, Lin could feel the fae was smirking. She felt him move behind her before feeling an arm sneaking around her waist and a warm body right by her side.

“She’s in good hands.” Rhysand tried to soothe the protective female in front of him and hoped that Lin could play her part well.

Ada’s eyes darted down to Rhysand’s arm where he casually wrapped it around her waist. Her eyes darted up suspiciously to Lin.

The young woman nearly flinched at Ada’s sharp gaze.

Lin pushed away Rhys’ arm from her waist and playfully hit his shoulder with her fist. “Not here,” she shyly giggled at the fae behind her and held back her gag at the cutesy act.

But Rhys did not retaliate her play.

His eyes were focused on the bandages in her arm.

He took her hand that hit his chest and held it out, bringing her arm close to his face where he studied it carefully. His violet eyes were dark and his eyebrows were furrowed in worry.

“What happened?”

Lin’s brown eyes met his violet ones and she was taken aback by the concern she saw in it.

“Madam Beatrice,” Ada jumped in to explain and tried to remind the ‘lovers’ of her presence.

Rhysand turned his gaze at the female behind Lin and waited for her to elaborate.

“Lin couldn’t mop the floors well—and one of the High Faes slipped after she did it,” the vine-haired faerie explained with her arms crossed in displeasure. “This wasn’t the first time she didn’t do a good job when mopping and the High Faes got involved.”

Ada’s lips curled up into a scowl and shrugged mockingly. “You can conclude how it went.”

Rhysand frowned even deeper at her answer and took another look at Lin’s bandaged arms. His thumb gently traced her arms through her bandages, as if trying to caress every single one of her cuts and bruises.

Lin ignored the butterflies in her stomach and tried to break Rhys off from his staring match with her arm and his gentle caresses.

“They’re just small cuts and bruises,” she comforted him. Her eyes softened at his attention. “Ada did a really good job when she helped me dress the wound. It’ll be gone by tomorrow,” Lin nodded her head in consolation despite knowing that Rhys wasn’t looking at her.

The faerie finally broke free from his gaze and looked at Ada earnestly.

“Thank you. For taking care of her.”

His appreciation surprised Lin even further as her eyebrows raised up to her forehead and stared at him like he was a newly found exotic animal.

Ada nodded in reply and without waiting any further, Rhys wrapped his arms back to her waist and turned her around, smoothly ushering Lin into her room.

The young woman could only raise her hand and yelled out a quick “Good night!” while Rhys nodded in greeting and saw Ada raise her hand back. After Ada replied with her own “Good night”, Rhysand closed the door in her face and completely enveloped both of them in darkness.

-----

Lin quickly pushed Rhys out of the way and scrambled to her desk. She shuffled around until her hands found the matchbox she had been looking for and quickly lit it up.

With the matchlight, Lin spotted the candle and lit it on without waiting any further.

After making sure all the candles in her room were lit, she snapped her head to glare at Rhys.

“What were you doing in my room?” Lin hissed.

The faerie got up from where he had been pushed against the wall and glared back at her.

For a lesser fae, she sure is strong, he mused quietly. Strong enough to push away a bigger male.

“I waited for you for two hours!” Rhys argued back while walking towards her bed before plopping his body down. His legs were too long for it so he placed his boots on her bedframe.

Lin thought she was going to have a stroke.

After making sure he was comfortable, Rhysand turned his eyes to the owner of the room to see her glowering at him.

“Do,” she hissed.

“Not,” she stomped.

“Wear,” she stood by him with one of her hands fisted tight and the other curled up like a claw.

“Your shoes,” she gathered the collars of his shirt and fisted it tight.

“On my bed!” Her last act was to yell out those words as she tried to pick him up by his shirt.

Unfortunately, the female could only lift him off her bed by half an inch before her arms gave out.

Rhysand chuckled. Not as strong as I thought.

Not wanting to anger her any further, he jumped off the bed and playfully flicked her forehead.

“So bossy,” he teased.

The male picked up the messed-up clothes on the Not-Lin’s bed and threw it carelessly to Lin’s bed before plopping down and folding his arms behind his pillow.

Lin took a deep breath and sighed.

At least he wasn’t on my bed with his outside clothes and his dirty boots anymore.

The young woman turned around walked towards the door where she washed her hands and her face on the basin by the door. After washing off the soap and drying it with a towel, she turned back around and walked towards Rhys while dragging her chair. Lin placed the chair by her bedside and sat down before starting to fold her clothes.

“When Madam Beatrice was doing her... punishment,” she began carefully. “A High Fae walked in.”

Her last word piqued Rhysand’s interest.

“I might be wrong, but I think he was the same fae I saw sneaking out a few days ago.”

Now she had caught his full attention.

Rhysand sat up and on the bed with both of his feet touching the ground and his arms leaning on his knees. His body leaned forward and his hands were folded in attention.

Lin felt his violet gaze upon her face, and suddenly all of her senses were heightened of their situation. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his exposed chest and the smooth bare skin. His folded hands were nearly touching the side of her thigh and their bodies were sitting in close proximity, only within one foot of space. The room was dark, only lit with flickering lights of the candle and the air was cool, calling for a warm bed or another’s embrace.

After the lover's stunt he had pulled earlier which caused the butterflies in her stomach, Lin decided it would be to drag on her work and avoid eye contact with the man.

Lest she began to desire him and started something she was going to regret.

The young woman cleared her throat and straightened up in her seat.

“He had shoulder-length hair, colored like copper. And he wore his ring on his thumb too. His clothes were many shades of brown and orange, like the autumn.”

Rhysand’s eyebrow furrowed in concentration as he lifted up his hands to prop his chin.

Lin tried not to exhale too loudly in relief. She did not trust herself not to catch feelings with the beautiful fae, and the more distance they have, the better.

“I didn’t get to ask his name, but he was very... playful. Like a little child, or a spoiled prince.” Lin continued as she folded the last piece of her cloth and dropped her hands to her lap, fumbling with it nervously.

“He also—” she hesitated.

Would he care? The young woman asked herself.

But before Lin could answer herself, Rhys dropped the question.

“What did he do?” Rhys growled.

His voice was solemn and low, as if not wanting to startle Lin who was surprised at his tone and turned to look into his face before she could stop herself.

Rhys’ violet eyes were dark and his face was serious. His shoulders were tense and his hands fisted tight, like a panther ready to pounce. From the corner of her eyes, Lin could see the shadows of the candlelight begin to dance fiercely and dangerously. Suddenly, the darkness felt even darker and began to close in on them. The fire from the candlelight began to flicker uncontrollably.

Yet somehow, Lin knew she was not his target.

Lin’s hand fisted tightly, creating crescent marks into her palms in anxiety and she shook her head.

“He didn’t do anything,” her voice trembled at the memory and Lin felt the candles begin to steady down before it eventually went back to its gentle flickering. The shadows of her candles had stopped their fierce dancing and returned to its old rhythm, following the candle’s flickering.

But the darkness didn’t go away.

Lin did not look away from Rhys, only darted her eyes downwards but she could feel it.

It stood around them. Calm and steady, wrapping around them like a blanket yet still ever so tense.

“He asked me to sit on his lap,” Lin mumbled. “And feed him biscuits.”

Without looking up, she felt the tension begin to dissipate from Rhys’ body as he let out a small breath.

“But it still felt like—” she tried to find the right words. “Like a violation.”

Rhysand grabbed her shoulders and held it tight, trying to give some of his strength to the female in front of him.

“I’ll see what I can do about him,” he comforted.

Lin’s head shot up to meet his gaze.

Him? Against a High Lord’s son?

She knew he wasn’t just a soldier, but she didn’t know he was that powerful.

“If he was as whorish as you told me about, then he was probably Antoine, the Little Piggy of the Autumn Court.”

Lin snorted at the nickname and Rhysand felt his lips curled up into a ghost smile at her lightening mood.

“The female servants were the ones to give him that name, I’ve heard.” Rhys continued as he took off his hands of her shoulders. “He’s the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, and very well known for his promiscuous habits.”

Unconsciously, Lin frowned at the missing and reassuring warmth. Her frown deepened even further as she watched Rhysand scoot back into the bed to sit straight against the wall with one of his legs straightened out and the other one raised up, using his knee to support his arm.

Shoes and all.

Men, she internally sneered.

“If I remember correctly, he was a sickly child so the High Lord and his Lady tend to spoil the piggy quite a lot,” Rhys shrugged. “I suppose the habit never stopped.”

Suddenly, Rhysand remembered an important detail that he had left out. “But he was quite snobby with his females too,” he frowned. His hand moved to rub his chin in concentration. “He insisted on having the prettiest females as his servants, and most of them tend to be High Faes or at least having one High Fae as a parent.”

Lin’s eyebrows furrowed, watching the faerie in front of her carefully picked his words.

One wrong word.... she threatened in her mind. And I’m smacking him.

Rhysand noticed the female’s threatening aura and looked up to see her glaring at him.

“Nothing against your friend, of course.” He sputtered while raising his arms in his defense. “I’m sure she’s pretty, but the Autumn Court was rather snobbish and racist when it comes to bloodlines and fae race.”

The female in front of him relaxed but kept her glare fixated on him.

Rhysand kept his eyes on the female, and suddenly everything clicked.

“So it would make sense if he was attracted to you,” he pointed out. His eyes were full of realization and his eyebrows raised high at his discovery. “You’re the only lesser fae who looked the most like a High Fae!”

Lin tried not to flinch at his statement and hoped that she wouldn’t question her parentage. But looking at Rhys’ curious stare, she knew the faerie expected an answer without asking any question.

Moreover, his stare was directed right on her ears, hidden underneath her scarf to hide her identity as a human.

The young woman cleared her throat and hoped that her voice was steady enough.

“I’m a bastard,” she lied. “I was told I have Illyrian ancestry.”

His gaze changed from curiosity into something she could not recognize and Lin felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest in fear.

“Is that why you wear the scarf?” His chin nodded towards the scarf on her head.

“I have bat ears.”

Rhysand masked his expression into a blank one.

The Night Court had not made any contact with Xian in centuries. There are some trade cities around the Hewn City, but Illyrians rarely occupy them. They tend to keep to themselves. Trying to make Illyrians get along with the Night Court was hard enough and it took his father a hundred years to create a somewhat peaceful alliance between them.

Rhysand was sure that the numbers of Illyrians who marry outside their own kind would be less than two hundred compared to their thousands, even nearly a hundred thousand of their kind. Most Illyrians prefer to marry from their own war camps or another’s. He had to applaud Illyrian’s obsessions with bloodline as the only thing that avoided them from inbreeding, but if this kept going on, he didn’t know how long it would last.

All in all, Illyrians who marry Xian faeries would be very easy to trace with little to no problem.

And that was what Rhysand would find out.

He nodded at her answer and Lin couldn’t tell if it was an “I believe you” nod or “Whatever, I’ll find out soon” nod and it terrified her.

“I—” she started. “I’ll try to find out more about Antoine,” Lin offered as a peacemaker between them and hoped that he wouldn’t snoop too far into her story.

Rhys’ careful gaze turned into an alerted one.

“It’s not safe,” he argued. “I won’t be there to help you.”

Amarantha had been making him run her errands around nearly the entire continent, trying to find out more about these... spies and enemies from Hybern she had been talking about. Yet every ends he’s chased came back empty and turned out to be baits. He had reported it all to the lunatic yet she only gave him more tails to chase and dead ends to seek.

Just like him, she kept her mask on. But Rhysand saw the slight tremble in her hands when she handed him another assignment to do and had to mask his triumph at the tyrant’s fear.

“Antoine is one of the weakest Autumn Court Lord, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t overpower you,” Rhys warned Lin as he sat up straight and crossed his legs, placing both of his shoes on the bed.

Lin clicked her tongue in annoyance at the sight.

“But we need more information about him,” she argued. “You said so yourself. He tends to be picky with his women—”

“Females,” Rhys corrected.

“Whatever—And if he went as far as to start sleeping with us, the lesser faes—” Lin’s lip curled up into a mocking sneer as she hissed the last words. “Then that means Milliona has something that he couldn��t get from any other faeries.”

Lin shrugged after her theory. “Or maybe he’s just into her.”

Rhysand highly doubted that, but if he did not want to offend the female in front of him.

“Try to get close to Mileona—”

”Milliona.”

“That’s what I said. And avoid Antoine the best you can,” he warned once more. He leaned his body to the front and stared deep into Lin’s brown eyes, making sure that she knew he was being fully serious about this.

“If he gets into a room, you get out of it. Make sure you’re never alone and you always have someone with you.”

Lin fervently nodded at his advice.

Rhys stood up and Lin quickly followed suit, not wanting to be intimidated even more by their size difference.

“If he ever comes at you like this—” he wrapped his arms around Lin, hugging her body tightly and Lin could feel herself take in a sharp breath as her nose touched his bare chest. “Then raise your knees and knee him in the crotch.”

“Try to nudge me gently like that,” Rhys encouraged. “Don’t knee me! But try to raise your knee to do it.”

Lin obediently followed his words and Rhys nodded in approval.

Rhysand held the young female by her shoulders and turned her around before pushing her body tight against his before wrapping his arms around her waist, but letting her arm hang free outside his hug.

“If he held you like this,” he started. “Turn around and use your elbow to hit him hard by his ears. When he’s distracted, use that moment to push him by the shoulders and make him release his hold on you and kick the back of his knees.”

Lin could only blink as she tried to grasp his teachings.

Rhysand noticed her confusion and quickly let go of his arms. “Here,” he offered as he stepped in front of her. The male held her wrists and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll try to show you.”

Her face was buried right on his back and he tried not to shiver when she breathed down the spot right between his hidden wings.

Rhysand twisted his upper body around to the right and bent his elbow before gently nudging the spot in front of her ear, where fat barely covered the head and a small hit would be fatal enough to make their ears ring. When Lin jumped from the sensation, the male lowered his elbow down to her neck and softly pushed her away until he broke free of her grasp. He quickly stepped behind the female and ended the demonstration by softly pushing the back of her knees with his boots.

The High Lord stared at his newly found friend’s face, which was still filled with confusion. But a glint of understanding began to light on her eyes.

The black-haired female turned her head to face him, curiosity and determination shining in her eyes.

“Can I try it?”

-----

Their small training went on until morning.

Rhys taught her more and more movements on what to do in every possible situation she might be trapped in. After each explanation, he made sure that she would demonstrate it to him with her full strength.

She was worried that she might hurt him, but the faerie laughed after the young woman voiced her concerns.

“You wouldn’t be able to kill me even if I was tied down and naked, sweetheart.” He boasted with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Lin was so nervous that Rhys would complain about how much of a slow learner she was and how many tries it took her to get it right, but he said nothing about it. The taller man merely fixed her moves and ask her to do it again until he finally nodded in approval.

“Remember to go for the neck, the eye, and their crotch.” He said while pointing at each part of her body that fitted with his description.

Well, except the last one.

“Don’t forget about nose and this one spot in front of the ear,” Rhys continued and tapped her nose before tapping the spot behind her cheek and in front of her ear, where sideburns would grow. “It’s not as fatal as the others, but it’d be good to distract them and catch them off guard.”

“It’s better to use a chopping gesture for the neck, but I doubt that you have enough strength to do that so use your palm instead.”

“And the most important thing is—” The faerie grabbed Lin by her shoulders once again and pushed his face close to hers until they were only an inch away. His violet eyes stare into her brown ones and Lin held her breath from their close proximity.

The young woman tried her best not to let her eyes dart downwards onto his lips and fisted her hands tightly, imprinting crescent marks into her palms. She knew the arrogant prick would never let her live it down if she did so.

“Never. Ever. Hesitate.”

With each word, he slightly shook her shoulder to make sure she was paying every single bit of attention to his final advice.

Lin gulped hard and nodded timidly.

Rhysand searched into her eyes and found it filled with both fear and determination at the same time. He nodded in approval before letting the female go.

“When it comes to these situations, the most important thing is to attack them when they least expect it.”

The faerie walked past Lin as he began to finally button up his shirt.

Couldn’t he have done that earlier? Lin scowled but did not dare to complain out loud.

“If you began to attack him but you hesitate, it’d be easier for him to read your next moves.”

Unprompted, the male faked a jab towards Lin’s face with his fist, making the woman flinch hard and back away unconsciously.

“That’s why it’s important for you to have the element of surprise on your side.” Rhys smugly finished.

Lin slowly opened her eyes and saw an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Her scowl grew even deeper and she raised her leg to kick him lightly on his shin.

But right when the tip of her shoes brushed against Rhys’ pants, the faerie jumped two steps backward and grabbed Lin by her shoulders before wrapping his arms around her neck and giving her a headlock.

He did all that within three seconds.

The young woman blinked and tried to process what had just happened.

His grip on her was calm, and his body was still as a stone. But Lin could feel his heart beating louder than the morning bells on her back and his heavy breath panting by her hair.

“Um..” she mumbled questionably. “I’m sorry?” She asked with a small shrug, unsure of what she should do at the moment.

If it wasn’t for the heavy breathing and loud thumping of his heart, Lin would have thought it was another part of her training. After all, he did not even break a drop of sweat during their little practice.

Without realizing it, Lin’s eyes darted down onto his right knee. Her eyes shone with concern.

Rhysand noticed the direction of her stare and loosened his grip, enough that the female broke free herself and turned around to apologize at him.

“I’m sorry,” she fumbled with her hands as her eyes darted back and forth between his right knee and his eyes in worry. “I didn’t know about it.”

The male opened his mouth, but she continued her distress before he could answer her.

“I won’t do it again! I promise!” She offered before she leaned down to stare into his right knee as if she could see through his pants and to the spot where it hurts. “Does it hurt? Are you alright?”

Her starry dark eyes flashed back into him as the female worded her last question and Rhysand saw it twinkled with uneasiness and distress of his well-being.

It has been a long time since he had someone stare at him like that.

His throat suddenly parched up.

Not trusting his own voice, Rhysand shook his head before clearing his throat.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged. “It’s just a sensitive spot, that’s all.”

He watched as Lin pursed her lips, but did not ask any further questions much to his relief.

You damned fool, he seethed inside. Rhysand was so smug of having the upper hand of his suspicions on Lin’s ancestry but now the male had to suffer from having the female know about his weakness due to his own stupidity and reflexes.

Before the High Lord could sulk any further, the morning bell rang to wake the servants up.

Lin’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

Eyes wide, she grabbed Rhys’ arm and began dragging him towards the door.

“Come on!” Lin rushed and pulled the bigger faerie with all her might. “We have to get you out of here before anybody sees you!” she frantically exclaimed.

If he wasn’t so busy scolding himself, Rhysand would have felt offended at the implications of her shame being seen with him.

Lin opened her door and stepped aside to push Rhys out of her room.

But the young woman froze in her track as she saw the view in front of her.

Rhys stepped aside and stood next to Lin to peek at what made the female freeze in fear like that.

He had to hold back a grin as he saw Lin’s effort go down the drain for naught with a group of female faeries standing before Lin with their eyes wide, staring right at him.

#but in your sacred air i am full of light #sol writes acotar #rhysand x oc #rhysand x reader #rhysand x original character #rhysand fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #under the mountain #autumn court

[tovelarisdreams]

Let’s talk about SJM “formula” for couples in ACOTAR

First, let’s talk about the rule of three!

I already have a different post for that, but the important thing to mention here is: The rule still applies to the female protagonists (theory here ) but our main focus here will be in the second and third LI!

FEYRE

So we all agree that the first trilogy tells us Feyre’s story, right ?

Ok! Then, we all agree that Feyre second love interest is Tamlin. And her third is Rhysand.

Throughout the series, we see a dispute over Feyre.

With her being with Tamlin for the first book, then leaving for the night court and slowly falling for Rhys in the second book.

So here we have, for the first trilogy: Tamlin x Feyre x Rhys

NESTA

ACOSF SPOILERS:

For Nesta story, we have the new ACOSF book. That when sjm develop her character and her LI, as a sub plot.

Obviously, her story is more rushed than Feyre. And that reflects in her love interest.

In Nesta’s book, i see that “dispute” between Eris and Cassian.

Eris shows clear interest in Nesta, and even ask her hand in marriage for Rhys. Nesta, for a second, thinks about marrying him because she feels that she deserves someone like him. Which makes Cassian really angry, obviously.

Some of u could question Eris being one of her love interest. And that is totally fair. Some people would include the Velaris men as her second LI!

But because of the marriage proposal and the interest he shows for her at solstice , I would include Eris on that list.

So in ACOSF, we have: Eris x Nesta x Cassian

ELAIN

Now, it’s almost certain that the next book will be about Elain’s story! There are a lot of theories and proof about this.

When we talk about Elain, we already had, since the end of ACOMAF, the mating bond between her and Lucian.

In ACOMAF, we see her starting to have interactions with Azriel too. And throughout the original trilogy, Sjm brings many scenes between then. In ACOSF, we see it reaching the almost kiss in the extra cap.

Now, I will not go into details and theories of which one she will end up with. That not the point of this post.

The point is:

Like her sisters, Elain will also have to LI “fighting” for her in her book. We already see the start of that on Azriel extra POV. And, if we take a closer look, even before that. When Azriel takes Elain to meet the garden in ACOWAR, and Lucian snarls at him.

In conclusion, in Elain’s book, we will have: Lucian x Elain x Azriel

CONCLUSION

My point in this theory is that the “dispute” always revolves around the woman in ACOTAR.

The males aren’t usually the center of the dispute. And usually do not have two ships in the book. At least, that what it looks like if we take the other books as a reference!

So I think we can be pretty sure that next book will be: Elriel x Elucian

#acosf #acotar #azriel #elriel #azriel x elain #elain #elain archeron #Lucian vanserra #elucian #Lucian x Elain #acowar #acomaf

[ao3feed-acotar]

Rhysand - Bajo la Montaña

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3ywuDSD

by LunaBlack2211

Amarantha construye su propia Corte de las Pesadillas en Bajo la Montaña y Kira, la emisaria de la Corte Verano, deberá aprender a sobrevivir en ese nuevo mundo de horrores, donde cada paso o respiración equivocada pueden llevarla a su muerte y la de las personas que ama.

Pronto, Kira se dará cuenta de que lo que enfrenta es más grande que su propia supervivencia o una simple maquinación entre cortes.

Rhysand x Fem OC

Disclaimer: ~ Contiene spoilers de ACOTAR, ACOMAF, ACOWAR, ACOFAS y puede que de ACOSF. ~ El mundo y la gran mayoría de los personajes pertenecen a Sarah J. Maas. ~ Esta obra es hecha sin fines de lucro, de fans para fans. ~ También pueden encontrar la historia en Wattpad, se llama igual y mi nombre de usuario también es el mismo.

Words: 3558, Chapters: 1/?, Language: Español

Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/M

Characters: Rhysand (ACoTaR), Original Female Character(s), Cassian (ACoTaR), Amarantha (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron, Azriel (ACoTaR), Morrigan (ACoTaR), Tarquin (ACoTaR)

Relationships: Rhysand (ACoTaR) & Original Character(s), Rhysand (ACoTaR) & Original Female Character(s), Rhysand (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s), Rhysand (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Amren/Varian (ACoTaR), Amren & Varian (ACoTaR)

Additional Tags: The Night Court, The Night Court (ACoTaR), POV Rhysand (ACoTaR), The Day Court (ACoTaR), The Spring Court (ACoTaR), The Summer Court (ACoTaR), The Autumn Court (ACoTaR), Mentions of the Inner Circle (ACoTaR), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3ywuDSD

#ao3feed #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[fyrapartnersearch]

M/M and M/F!

Hey! It’s Viv here. Late twenties, female rper and hoarder of books. It’s been quite a while since my last post but the writing bug has bitten me last autumn and after quite some solo-writing practice the last few months I would absolutely love a roleplaying buddy (or two) to be my partner in crime. Please be 21+ when you contact me and let me know what you’re interested in! I’m super excited to get back into roleplaying and love to know what gets others excited/ inspired. The easiest way to contact me is through Discord:hungryfangs#9072 (Feel free to add me, I’ll assume you’re a fellow rper :) ) or email:[email protected] (You can also @ at me on hangouts) With that being said my main squeeze is MxM but I’d absolutely be up for MxF as well. My main muses tend to be male but I’m open to write any gender. Especially when we work with doubling/secondary pairings/ background characters ect. My posts vary but 2- 7 lengthy paragraphs tend to be my norm and I strongly favour 3rd person past tense. (Feel free to ask for a sample) I’m aware I have a great deal of original genres/themes that get me excited. We can always mix (some of) them together and create something amazing. I also have some fandoms (not all are taggable) I hope some might be interested in. Settings/themes/ideas/ect. Secret societies | Fantasy (modern/historical/any) | Morally grey characters | Shapeshifters | sci-fi | cold appearances, hiding soft hearts | pirates and space pirates | Dystopian | Clashing personalities | Neo-noir | Vampires | Dragons and dragon riding society | Age gaps where everyone is an adult | slow-burn | Mutual Pining | Arranged marriages and relationships | Different cultures | rivalries | Fangs | The enemies to lovers trope | Historical fiction | Royalty | old money vs newly found wealth | made-up societies | Soldiers | Fae courts | Steampunk | Monsters | ABO dynamics | Soulmates | Starcrossed lovers | Affairs | Mutual banter | Superpowers | Magic and magic users/wielders | Vikings | Mechanically enhanced humans | Rebellions | Curses | werewolves | Big cities | old flames | Gladiators | Made up fantasy and scifi races | secret lovers | Clashing egos | losing it all and having to rebuild | Wild west | Hidden worlds | If any of these and of course my ad speak to you feel free to contact me and we’ll pick it up from there! - I’m also always on the hunt to play with made-up fantasy races, their societies and to play around with that. I have some loose ideas for a dragon shapeshifting and shapeshifting races in general but open to anything! I get super giddy just playing around with concepts and getting to play/write with them. If that’s something you’re interested in defiantly contact me! - What I love about roleplaying is the plotting and getting excited together. Give me your ideas and let me share mine! I love hearing people’’s input and in the end writing on plots we both love. - I love slowburn but I also love lust-filled relationships that slowly grow into something romantic and anything in between. - I’m not too strict on bedroom positions. If you want to write a more submissive character feel free! As long as their preference does not define their personality I don’t mind at all. I do love myself some surprising dynamics with powerbottoms, gentle tops and always up for power struggles! Fandoms: For all fandoms I’m open to playing around in canon or having fun with an AU granted we’re not going for a coffee shop or College AU. I’m bitter like unflavoured coffee about those ;) Bold means I have a preference for that muse but nothing is set in stone and you can ask me to write the other. Attack on titan: Erwin/Levi, Reiner/ Bertolt, Reiner/ Porko A court of thorns and roses: rhysand/ Feyre, Lucian/ Elaine, Azriel/ Elaine or Oc Transformers: I seriously just miss writing in this fandom! I’m most fammiliar with the resently ended IDW comics, prime and Animated.Open to pretty much any pairing. My main muses are: everyone. Also, write Oc’s with me in this fandom and I’ll love you forever! (Not looking for human x mech romances though. sorry :c) OverWatch: Hanzo/ Jesse, Jesse/Genji, Gabriel/Jack Smut: Yes! just yes. In all seriousness, I like smut in my plots. Kinda like the topping of something that is already amazing (like a slice of cheesecake) but I’m totally okay with us fading to black is that’s more comfortable for you Limits and deal breakers: Everyone has things they rather not write and I’m no different. First, and I might sound pretty bitter here. I’m not looking for male writing partners right now. Especially not in M/F plots. Sorry dudes :c I just had one too many bad experiences. Second, I’m not looking to write smut with underage characters. Actually, I’d prefer if every character in any smut scene is 20+ or an equivalent of that if we’re speaking of fantasy races that might age differently. Other than that my limits are very basic: kinks like vore, necrophilia ect aren’t my cup of tea. Okay, I’ll stop here and hope I caught the attention of some of you! Have a lovely day either way and I hope to get some exciting plots going :)

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #long term #email #messenger #submission

[roleplayfinder]

I have been searching the internet for different ACOTAR inspired roleplays. I have been roleplaying for almost 20 years and love world building, political intrigue and romance. I write about 400-800 words a post and I have samples that I can offer.

I play all genders, my male characters are usually better written but I prefer to play female presenting characters. (It is my curse.) I prefer to double or at least to have some minimances. (Side romances.) I write in third person and won't write in first person.

The pairings that I would love to explore include:

Gwyn x Azriel

Elain x Lucien

Mor x Emerie

Ones that would be interesting to add onto:

Feyre x Rhysand

Nesta x Cassian

Ones that would include an Original Character:

Older Nyx x OC

Eris x OC

OCxOC

Straight up Trash:

Tamlin. Sorry, not sorry.

I would also be interested in Throne of Glass or Crescent City roleplays or AUs.

If you are interested, like the post and I will reach out! <3

#submission #eighteen and over #acotar #acotar roleplay #acotar rp

[karamorrdraws]

hi, i just want to say that i love The Night series, but something really bugs me out. you see, when you pair up a reader with a character, you don't insert the reader's physical looks, because every 'reader' looks different. we could be black, asian, or white. but when you insert the 'reader''s name and physical description, it's not a "rhysand x reader" story anymore, but a rhysand x original female character, because you created how this 'reader' looks like and even give her a name.

HI! I’m really glad you’re enjoying the story! :)In regards of your concerns, I was aware of that point (the name) when writing, but you see, Daeris is not her real name. She lied to Rhysand as you will find out later in the story. And regarding the physical characteristics, I know I may have made a mistake (lol) when writing those, but I’m kinda giving away clues as to who the reader is and where she comes from. But yes, you’re completely right in that aspect and now I don’t know if I should change that or keep it?

[mommyofkittens]

Hello! I updated the story " A Court of Fallen Heroes " on Archive of our own! Check it out and tell me what you think about it. What are your favorite tropes? What would you like to see next? Do you feel like something is missing from the story? Make sure to notify me, I am open to anything.

Chapter 1: 3:33

   " Goddamit, Nadia. I sucked so bad today at that blood donation. " I complained while rummaging in the dark of my bag for the keys to my small apartament. " I have no ideea why the fuck did I sign up for that volunteering thing. "

          The stinging odor of disinfectant irritated my vision. Not to mention the grey walls that were stained with white dots of solution for killing beetles were making me feel even dirtier than I actually was.

          " It wasn’t so bad after all, doctor Appleheim didn’t stick the syringe down your throat at the end. " Nadia lets loose a high-pitched laughing on the phone that has me rolling my eyes, " At least you didn’t popped the poor man veins like me. " She complains and I search the red dots splashed on my shoes, remembering the disastrous moment.

          Nadia was my first friend from university and that is only because she basically jumped me on one of the anatomy laboratories, recognizing me from the day we submitted our files. I was quite impressed, I could never recall a person’s face if I only saw her once. Well, it was not because I had bad memory or short memory, - I got a handfull of healthy brains in my skull thanks to my reading addiction – but rather because I was not paying attention to anyone near me that day.

          There were actually five girls in our group that we could call quite good friends, but the two of us were always inseparable. We even wanted to do our license together, in the last year of med school.

          The familiar smell from my little apartment relaxes my muscles instantly and I take a moment to shrug the bad energies off of me. Amber, from the parfume I always wear, and hyacinth from the mini freshener I had on the shoe closet. Opening the lights from the main hall, I’m greeted by my cat’s deafening meow. " I missed you too, little boy. "

          I throw my shoes on the floor tiles, remembering myself to wipe the dust from the dark cherry color.

          The past weekend was one of the hardest calamities I have ever endured this year. Not that the last of it was any better: my love life was badly affected by my family intrusion of my intimacy and as a repercussion, so was my family life. Also, my grades from med school suddenly dropped as a result of my insomnia and constant tension.

          And I am not even adding that heavy weight I feel on my chest or the fact that I should start working soon because I had no financial support anymore.

          " How do you feel? " Nadia asks after a long pause of silence.

          I still on my own tracks and watch the cat caress my feet. Did I ever told her about my personal problems? Fuck, how could I forget that? I never liked to play the victim.

          Not good, I tell myself. Like I was kicked in the nuts and one of it got stuck in my pelvic bones.

          " You’re talking about the fact that I can’t catch a vein or?... "

          " Yes, what else? " a note of concern staines her honeyed voice, " Something else happened? "

          Oh, so I didn’t tell her.

          " No, no, what could happen? "

          Fucked a girl, that’s what happened.

          I snort at my own lying ass and lock the door behind me. " I am a little upset, but nothing some alcohol can’t heal. "             

          " Alright, dear, " Nadia chuckles and I feel her small smile through the phone, " I’ll do the same. See you tomorrow! "

          I threw the phone on the pile of folded blankets and stick my fingers in my eye holes, trying to stop the thriving headache in my temple.

          I knew it was not going to be alright. My parents were so ashamed I was dating a girl they kicked me out of the house. It was that or the possibility of losing the only person I have loved and turned my love back multiplied.

          I unpack my bag and sit on the edge of the bed, allowing myself some time of peace. The book that I finished last night laid on my night stand, making me feel stuck in their world of faes and happy endings. My bed was neated and the white sheets seemed so appealing to me, an open invitation to a death sleep. I could already depict the coldness of them engulfing me whole, promising me a short termed patch for my damaged heart.

          Closing my eyes, I listen to the ticking sound of the clock that my father gave me. I guess it was a present to remind me how a waste of time I was for him.

          Of course I had no peace of mind in my own home. He was everywhere. " Sooner or later I’ll take the syringe from doctor Appleheim and stick it in my throat by myself. "

          These emotions, the anxiety and haste made me feel so tired. Was it ever going to end? This constant sense that my every step was being watched and analyzed, my never ending bad luck? Is my existence a joke to some higher divinity that gets bored every now and then and throws some bad shit into someone’s life just for fun?

          " Come, Icarus " I mumble and open my white blouse, swearing at the shit material of these doctor uniformes that made me sweat like a man, " your whore of a mother needs a drink. "

          I get up and change into a green hoodie, tying my hair in a knot at the back of my head and making a mental note to wash it tonight. I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and I instantly regret it. I looked hazardous, my green mascara was smeared under my eyes making the dark circles turn purple, my scalp was still stained from my red dye and the broken blood vessels from my eyes overpowered the grey irises.

          Maybe I was going mad after all, and I was barely 23.

          After several unsuccessful attempts to find a wine glass, I satisfy my needs with a pink cup for coffee that says: ‘ Don’t be a whore, suck some coffee! ". I fetch the white wine from my almost empty fridge and officially start my lonely night.

          The cat jumpes on the table and meows, considering me with his golden eyes. I stare right back, taking a massive sip from the alcohol and admire the only patch of white fur around his neck. Nausea hits me when I remember that chilled night of December, when I stumbled over his paralyzed body at the trash. Some stray dogs found him helpless and too small to fight back or know who’s the enemy and skinned him alive. Since then I protected him with my whole being.

          My throat starts burning and I sigh, burying my tears in the past. If I let myself fall prey to crying, I don’t think I would be able to stop for years. Even so, I can’t stop wondering what would happen if I wasn’t me, if I could be someone else, start something new, do things better. I wish I could repair everything wrong in my world, but I know I don’t have the strength nor the courage to do that. I was scarcely able to handle the things with my family back home, how the hell could I cope up with something bigger?

          I sniff the sweet scent on the wine and throw my head back, easing the feeling of sadness. Not even this damned alcohol can help me.

          A strange sensation of not belonging overpowers my senses and my limbs tremble under the weight of my own body. I feel the time pass by me, making me feel older. My soul seems heavy and my exhaling is stuck in the middle of a breath.

          Is this a panic attack?

          I touch my neck from instinct, feeling the heated chain around it and open my eyes, focusing on the clock from my father. A moment passes by before I realize the weirdness of the situation and I lift my brows in confusion. The clock hands didn’t work anymore, fluttering in a repetitive way at 3:33 a.m.

          " What the shit? I just got batteries for you... " I moan and put the half drank wine on the kitchen island.

          I barely make a move towards the hanging object, when a dreadful element catches my attention.

          My cat. My immovable, frozen Icarus, stretching after a mosquito on his back paws, holding himself like a statue. My mouth drops open, without being able to believe what I was witnessing. For several minutes I am not able to make a move, examining his tiny body and waiting for him to sit back down. His mouth is slightly opened, letting the sharp fangs visible and his slit pupils are fixating the imperceptible fly.

          With the only sound around me being my acute heartbeats, I lift my shaky hands and touch his frozen torso. The bile is rising in my esophagus when his rubber like skin comes in contact with my icy fingers.

          The shock is rapidly replaced by the feeling of fear and helplessness.

          Was I high? Was the wine old or expired? That wasn’t even a possibility.

          " This must be a joke " I can’t even hear my breathy voice as I launch to the bottle, searching the little sticker on the side. Nothing alarming poppes, but at the end of it, a red sentence makes the hair on my neck rise.

          ‘ Open the door. ‘

          A shiver runs down my spine and the sensation of being watched creeps behind my ringing ears. I take a step back and pinch myself, making sure I was not in a disturbing nightmare.

          I was so used to having them lately, that sometimes, right after I woke up, I still saw the scenes in front of my eyes: a spilled cauldron drowning me, dark shaped-like creatures grabbing my legs from my bed and that fucking peculiar lady with ink black hair and a pair of green eyes that seemed sick and eerie. Maybe I had sleep paralysis, but I never suffered of one before and I knew it wasn’t manifesting like this.

          I check my phone with the intention to call back Nadia when the hour gets my attention. 3:33, the worst half of 666. When I tap the clock to check the whole hour, I see the interminable series of 3. I turn back to the one from my wall, and a hole formes inside my stomach. 3:33. I thought it was barely 9 p.m.

          Now, I was not scared anymore, but fucking terrified. If the lights abruptly went out, I think I would curl on my floor and have a heart attack.

          Dizziness hits my consciousness, and then, as if my cat being stuck in the air and the clocks showing a strange hour wasn’t enough, someone knocks on my front door.

          My mouth dries up and my blood runs out from my cheeks. The coldness from my apartment makes my extremities’s temperature to drop and I am not able to move from the spot where I was looking directly at the doorknob. I turn my head slightly to read the label from my wine bottle and consider the opportunity to just strangle myself by the ceiling.

          " That would not be an option. "

          My shrill scream bounces off the white walls, sounding pathetic and petty. I jerk so bad backwards, that I step in my cat’s water bowl and slip, hitting my head on the sink and making me see double for a split second.

          The place where I hit my skull pounds deep in my brain, and I start wondering if I fell before I drank that wine and this is just a result of my unhandiness. But the tall, slender man sitting in the middle of my kitchen was as real as my pain behind my eye globes. He seemed so effortlessly classy and… harmless that I almost relax in his presence. The black suit was tailored on his body and seemed to be in a perfect match with his dark laced boots.

          I feel his brown irises searching me, as if I was the one who broke into his house and looked like a wild animal on the loose.

          He dodges the light blue carpet that was covering my white floor and offers me a hand with wrinkled fingers. He was so pale that I couldn’t understand how he was not see through.

          I swallow the vomit back and shiver, feeling the water dampen my pants and hoodie.

          " My apologies, miss, but you were not answering your door. " he admits after I don’t move from the spot where I was rooted. " I was afraid you might have changed your mind. "

          His voice was so… narrative, like a story teller. It was so clean, with barely any inflexions and no accent to stain his phrase. But, even with this composed figure, my intuition kept raising red flags on the back of my head.

          " My, my mind? There was a reason why I was not answering the door. " I find myself speaking lowly, using a cracked tone.

          I couldn’t even recognise myself. My head was empty, still loading the fact that someone got into my home without entering the front door.

          And I live at the 3rd floor on my block.

          My complexion takes him aback and he exhales and lifts his dark, full brows in sign of surrender. He withdraws his hand, takes my cat gently from the table and sits him nicely on his lap when he takes a seat on one of my chairs. " If you like your ass to be wet, I don’t mind, I just hoped we could talk like some civilised… creatures. "

          He stoically declares, petting my cat’s head and admitting his existence with a tedious look on his face.

          The man’s features were alarming. They seemed old and young at the same time, with small wrincles on the sides of his mouth and a strong jaw with dinky stubble piercing his follicles.

          " You entering my house with no invitation is not civilised. " I bark and gather the courage to lift my body from the water puddle. " What is your name? "

          " I go by the name of Samael, " he declares, making a slight bow with his head and offers me the other chair from the table, " but you can call me however you feel like it. "

        The movement takes me off guard and I switch my attention to the top of his head. A bizzare comparision to his dark suit, was a strand of white kept hidden between his rich, raven hair caught in a low ponytail.

          " Don’t touch my cat. " My order came more like a request, so I clear my throat, and move to stay as close as possible to the knives in the support.

          " Those won’t save you. " He sternly warns me and puts Icarus on the seat besides him, turning his focus on me. " I came here because you wanted a change, I am here to offer you that chance. "

          " I have no idea what are you talking about and how on earth you could help me, but I don’t want anything from you. " I make myself clear, rumaging my brain after something I could use in my defence.

          Samael chuckles, and the sight seems both wrong and forbidden to look at. " If you wanted to be left in peace, you wouldn’t have said that. "

          I blink in utter disorientation, starting to feel overpowered by his suffocating presence. The headache from earlier catches my temples in a cage, biting down on every nerve in that region. I clench my fist several times, feeling my fingers swollen and stiffened.

          This man’s presence held something wrong and out of this world. The energy around him was as contrarious as the sun and the moon: it was loud and calm, lightweight and obscur, a breath of air and a hand around your throat. From time to time, when he peerced me with his gloomy eyes, I had the impression that he was feeding himself from my own energy resources. He walked, stood and watched like a man bored by existence itself, like he attended every single historical decision and wasn’t surprised by anything he encountered.

          " Look, " I dare to speak, unable to put a finger on what was going on around me " my cat is frozen, I think I am on drugs and I almost pulled someone’s vein out of his arm today. " I list, watching Samael’s unmovable posture " I am in no mood for tricks, whatever hack you used on my phone, it was funny, alright, give me back the batteries from my clock and switch this plush cat with my real one. "

          " Oh, but this is your real cat. " He simply states, leaving me dazzed.

          I wanted to punch him in the face so bad and mess up that strict façade of him.

          " Listen to me. " He asks, finally standing up from his seat and coming towards me, cornering me, scaring me. " I am not here to hurt you, I heard your cry for help and I am here to offer a bargain. "

          Now that Samael was closer, I could see the hiding viperin figure behind his chiselled features. The man was tall as a tree and smelled like old, dusty books and forest after rain. My kitchen looked smaller and bland with him in the middle of it, overthrowing everything with his sultry presence.

          " What bargain? " I fell into his trap, suddenly bewitched by his face.

          I couldn’t take a hold over my body anymore. I was watching everything from the outside, through a blurry curtain that was restricting me from taking my physical being back.

          " I can give you freedom, peace " I have no reaction as he comes closer, touching my rosy cheek with a frozen hand, "  the chance to make everything better. "

          My spirit revolts inside me and I feel the temperature from the room starting to rise, like the energy particles hit each other, staggered by an invisible force. The beats from my heart sound like a distant echo, crying for help and I realise then, that I was having palpitations, that my blood wasn’t reaching all the sectors of my body and that I couldn’t think straight.

          " You are able to start over, with all the knowledge you have now of everything that happen. " Samael carries on, unbothered, clawing at my cheek with his fingers " but with one condition: never spoil anything from the future to the ones from the past, otherwise you’ll change the course of events, and things may go to the wrong path... people may die, others may not be born. The universal balance will be broken and the worlds will crumble on top of each other. Be careful. "

          I feel my skin pulled from my face, gathering under his nails.

          " What is the price? " I ask mechanical, hearing my eardrums thudding continuously.

          I catch a glimpse of blood running lazily down my collar bone and damping my hoodie and some loosen strand of my hair, making it even redder than before. I can’t even totally feel the stinging sensation.

          A brush of air start ruffling the papers I had scarced on the table. The lighting bulbs flicker furiously and I catch a glimpse of the creature standing in front of me. His face changed with the intermision of darkness and light, molding his face from the composed human to a horrific complexion.

          His mouth was wide as if he couldn’t close it completely and a pair of irregular, blood stained lips surrounded it. His tongue was sharpe and scarred by the uneven fangs sticking out of his gums. His orbs were black and his skin was purple.

          " Your name and a drop from your blood should be enough. " Samael smiles victoriously as he makes me shake my head with his hand in sign of a silent acceptance.

          What happens next is over my power of understanding.

          He pushes me, but instead of hitting the wall, I start falling through what seemed an interminable void of circles. I hardly even get to see anything, too terrified of the thing that’s waiting for me on the bottom. I catch a flash of a city, a city built near a river and try to cling to the nearest building, but fail. Something from another level hits my rib cage and I open my mouth to scream, but the falling speed cuts my breath and I start waving my legs and hands. Sparkles obscure my vision as the pressure gets higher and the colours from all the worlds overwhelm my senses. The five amprents on my cheek start burning and the pain in my lungs gets oppressive.

          The last thing I see before I hit the bottom of a lake is a war on a mountain and a burning flame cutting through the darkness.

I generally update between Friday and Sunday. The writing takes some time because english îs not my first language and I try to make everything as correctly as possible. I know that grammatical mistakes reduce the pleasure of reading.

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