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shi-daisy · 7 months

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Unlikely Alliance

So I was only planing to make stuff for Day 1 and Day 7 of Eris Week but this idea popped into my head and my dear friend @praetorqueenreyna once told me she liked this ship, so I figured why not? This one for you girlie! We get the heir of Autumn with my precious Spring baby because honselt they both deserved better. Hope you all enjoy!

@erisweek2023

Eris Week 2023- Day 3: Secrets

Unlikely Alliance

The manor was nothing but a collection of vines, broken glass, rubble and wilted flowers. Eris hadn't cared much for the state of things, thinking Tamlin would eventually bounce back from this. He'd been wrong, for the High Lord was lying on the floor in beast form when Eris found him.

He didn't rise when the Autumn prince found him, rather he gazed at him with dulled emerald eyes. "Here to cut off my head?"

"No, Tamlin."

"Pity. I thought Rhysand sent you to finish me off."

"Rhysand's not one to let others do what he himself wishes to accomplish. Besides I have more reasons to keep you around than as a throphy."

"Pray tell, this should be interesting."

He noticed the blonde was slimmer than the last time he saw him when he had a meeting here with the inner circle. 'We shouldn't have frightened him like that.' He regretted.

"I have an alliance proposal. You and I joined as High Lords of the combined Spring and Autumn. "

Tamlin looked at him as if he'd grown another head."...Did you by any chance find Ciaran's secret weed stash, because if so let me know. He wanted me to burn it after he died."

"No Tamlin, I'm not high on your brother's weed. I've given this a lot of thought actually. It would be beneficial for us both.

You know that while Tarquin and his people haven't given any thought to take this land from you, my father is very adamant in getting Spring by force. I'm trying to save you from the edge of his sword."

"Let him. I have nothing left to live for."

"What about Lucien? Do you think he wants to see you dead?! Or Feyre, she'd be heartbroken to hear you passed!"

Tamlin let out a venomous sarcastic laugh that made him wince. "Feyre is the one that plunged this court to ruin for Hybern to destroy! She does not care of my demise! Oh, and your dear baby brother comes every so often to see me, and we talk. Last thing I've heard, he's happily coupled with the human queen and general. I know that in time his visits will cease. I have no one left!"

So he was right. Tamlin still loved those two even if they'd left him behind. He could understand, as there was a lady that refused him and he still sometimes pined for, even if she'd soon be wedded in the Court that he was trying to topple.

"Yet I'm still here. I am offering you a chance to rebuild, to forget, to maybe even reconnect with those you miss."

"Why?! Eris you and I were never close. For years I was only your younger brother's lov- friend!"

"Aye, and I thought that was the only connection we'd share. But as time goes on and everything we knew keeps crashing down, I've kept on thinking that perhaps we should reevaluate our bonds. And yours ws the first to come to mind.

I know how much you loved this court Tamlin. You gave your all for it even if what you truly wanted was to play music and travel. Let me help you heal it, as we bring our enemies down."

"Our enemies? Aren't you Rhysand's ally?"

"That is all talk." He showed Tamlin a Sapphire pendant that glowed in the light. "My true allies are the ones rebelling against Rhysand's rule. His court is preparing to bring him down. I'm just one of their many spies."

Tamlin looked surprised yet impressed. "If we marry, you know well...where my heart lies."

"You know where mine lies too."

Tamlin nodded. He knew that like him, Eris had fallen for one of the Acheron sisters and lost her to an Illiryan.

"Maybe in time that can be healed too. But for now all I want is for the court to be healed, with or without me. I'll accept your proposal."

Eris smiled. He took out the ring he'd brought to make things official. The bronze and ruby piece had been crafted to magically fit the wearer.

Tamlin smiled slightly, he seemed to like it.

"Now, Tamlin Vanserra, will you allow me to get you home?"

"You're still as cheeky as always, but yes."

***

As expected Beron had everything prepared in a mere afternoon, and surprisingly he had followed the instructions Eris suggested. Having all the dishes, flowers and decorations for the banquet be tailored to Tamlin's tastes.

The blonde was being gushed over by Imogen, who made sure he ate enough, and kept him from being overwhelmed.

Thankfully official speeches and matters of the sort were brief, and they could spend the rest of time dancing and enjoying the party. Surprisingly, Tamlin's mood did improve during those few hours.

Once the party ended he was about to pick up his drunken younger siblings, when Nemesis stopped him.

"I'll take care of the hungover babies. Go and rest with your fiance."

"Feeling extra nice or are you not sober?

"Fool, I have enough hallucinations as it is, I'm not making it worse with alcohol. Now scram."

He wouldn't argue with that. Tamlin was still withdrawn despite his better mood, Eris didn't blame him, being back here in Autumn might've brought back memories. So he took the chance to try and cheer up the High Lord of Spring.

Their new room was not as extravagant as the party, but it had a mix of dark greens and reds that was pleasing to the eyes. He'd made sure to furnish it with a writing desk and new instruments for Tamlin. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You remembered my violin and fiddle. Even got a guitar as well."

"Having you play during the Spring Court events was always a highlight. Those who came from Spring said they missed it and I have to agree."

Tamlin chuckled. "You keep secrets well, Eris. This plan and the fact that there's so much about me that you knew and did not show, makes me wonder how many things you have up your sleeve."

He pulled Tamlin close by the waist, relishing in his flustered expression. "You'll come to see it all soon enough, dear future husband. This may all be a part of my plan, but I do intended to get close to you for real Tamlin. Let you see what's under the mask, if you wish to. Just trust that I am not keeping any dangerous secrets from you."

Tamlin's gaze was hopeful, it took little to earn his trust nowadays, even if hardship should've had the opposite effect. "I'll trust you, if you agree to let me keep some small secrets of my own."

"Absolutely."

He pulled out a small Hyacinth flower from his pocket, handing it to Tamlin. The bloom was blue and glowing. Eris had studied flower language before picking the flower.

"A show of caring? You're being very sweet tonight." Tamlin told him.

"Have to spoil my husband to be."

"I'll be sure to return the favor soon."

It didn't take long for them to grow tired, having danced to nearly all of the songs without pause. Eris didn't think he'd feel guilty holding Tamlin's sleeping form. He was no longer the muscular imposing man he'd met years ago. Rather he felt very thin and fragile.

'How did we all leave him to waste away alone?' He pondered. Shaking the thought away he made sure the thick fluffy blankets covered them both well, before snuffing out the candles in the room with a snap of his fingers.

Tamlin was right, he had many secrets. His plans to topple Rhysand, to take down Beron, and to help properly heal Spring were some of his most ambitious and well kept secrets. But there was one he wouldn't voice to anyone, at least not until he was certain he could reveal it without consequences.

He'd kept a torch for young High Lord for centuries, and now that he had him, Eris wouldn't be letting him go anytime soon.

#eris week 2023 #eris vanserra #tamlin #tamris #implied tamcien #implied feylin #implied neris #beron vanserra #imogen vanserra #day 3: secrets

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mathiwrites · 7 days

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For the second prompt of Day 4 of @tamlinweek, please enjoy the small moments of Happily Ever After in Tamlin's life.

There is also a direct correlation between Tamlin's happiness and him being an idiot with his best friends. (Lookin' @ u Cassian)

Read Happy Endings on AO3 or below the cut:

The thing about ‘happily ever after’ is that is that it begs the question—after what? Happiness, in Tamlin’s opinion, is not an end. It is constantly in motion, and cyclical. It is intangible; no matter how hard he tries, he cannot capture it. Although, he has figured it out.

Happiness is not a state of mind.

Happiness lives within others.

CASSIAN

“You broke my nose, you fuck!”

Tamlin grins, a little too smug. The rules of their sparring is simple: don’t kill each other. Everything else is fair game, but Tamlin has never bothered with weapons. Not when he can shape himself into whatever he dreams of, and Nature has provided him with all the tools he needs to achieve his ends.

Today, he just wants to even the score.

“I owed you one. More than one, actually.”

Cassian makes an incoherent sound of frustration, setting the bone back in place without a complaint. “What else was I supposed to do with a big ass Spring Court invader in our war camps?”

“Rhysand invited me,” Tamlin deadpans. He’s pretty sure Cassian headbutt him all those years ago (and broke his nose) to prove a point. To think, everyone thinks Tamlin is the brute.

“Whatever, I’m not sorry.”

“Actually,” Morrigan chimes in. “May I propose literally any other way of greeting each other? Have you considered ‘hello’? I hear it’s all the rage with all other sane beings in this world.”

Both Tamlin and Cassian look at one another, they grin, two idiotic peas in a pod, before looking back at her and responding in perfect synchonicity: “Nah.”

Morrigan sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with manicured nails. “There’s two of them. Two of them!”

As if to prove her point, Cassian turns and headbutts Tamlin in the face.

“Ack! My nose! Now we’re even.”

“No, that makes us uneven. Learn to count, you fuck!”

ELERI

The pitter-patter of light feet captures his attention. He’s curled on the lounge chair, reading one of Rhysand’s books. It’s a human fairytale that Eleri had mentioned, something about prince charmings and damsels in distress. Absent-mindedly, Tamlin twirls the ring on his finger made of Illyrian steel. It belonged to the Lady of the Night, passed down to him as Rhysand’s chosen-mate.

The pitter-patter continues, and Rhysand’s little sister pops up behind the back of the chair, regarding him with her big violet eyes. She flutters her lashes and smiles at him. “Hi, Tamlin.”

“Hello, Eleri.” He shuts the book carefully and raises a brow at her. She wants something, but with her, he can never guess what it is.

She rests her chin in her palms, admiring him. It’s strange to call her little. Yes, she is very small in stature, taking after her mother, but she is technically older than Tamlin. Most of his newfound family is.

“What?”

“I need your help.”

Without question, Tamlin gets up. “Lead the way.”

There isn’t anything Tamlin wouldn’t do for her. He’s saved her life once, and he would do it again without second thought. He doesn’t bother questioning her; the bounce in her step means that whatever she needs help with will be entertaining at the very least.

Together, they find Azriel in the House of Wind’s study, looking through the High Lord’s papers. The shadowsinger raises a brow in Tamlin’s direction, but Tamlin has only a shrug to offer him.

“Tamlin, please lift me,” Eleri demands once she plants herself before Azriel, extending her arms to give Tamlin room.

He tucks his hands beneath her armpits and raises her to eye-level to Azriel. What he witnesses is the single most hilarious berating he has ever heard in his life. Tamlin bites his lip to stifle his laughter. Apparently, she’s upset that Cassian caught wind of their date, and he keeps making kissy faces at her. Now, Rhysand is doing it too! She wasn’t the one who told them! What kind of spymaster can’t keep secrets?

Tamlin clears his throat.

“Um, we saw you both in the pastry shop. We were all having ice cream.”

The young Lady’s face burns a bright red. “I—! Mother above, Az, I’m so sorry!”

Tamlin’s laughter is a rumble as he hands the very short, very embarassed High Faerie to Azriel. “You’re very cute together. By the way, why did you need me for… this?” His voice trembles with amusement and guarded laughter. He doens’t want her to feel bad.

“The others are nosy, I trust you,” she says over her shoulder, feet dangling while Azriel holds her like a live bomb. To her crush, she yowls. “Hug me already!”

Oh, this family is ridiculous, but he loves them dearly. Most of all, Tamlin loves being a part of it.

MOTHER

“Mmmver, yr sqshng me.”

Tamlin wouldn’t trade it for the world. His face is smothered in her arms, a nice change of pace from her squishing his cheeks and crying at him.

“My baby! My little baby is getting married,” she says for the hundredth time.

He had made a point to tell her before the rest of his family. Before his father, he cannot be happy, and she cannot be free, so he tells her in the middle of her garden and her flowers that will live forever. This moment will live forever with them.

He had made a point to tell her months ago, but her mind never recovered from the loss of her second son. It’s alright, he thinks, if she can relive this happiness over and over again. He’s proud that he can be the one to make her smile like that again.

“I grew him a valley of eternal flowers, too, as my proposal.”

“Oh! You did! That’s so lovely, my sprout.”

This time he hugs her, nuzzling her hair and breathing in the scent of her yellow roses.

LUCIEN

Music is a language spoken through the heart, and the body. It speaks only of truths—harsh ones, sweet ones and the ones that they try to keep secret.

Music from Andras is a massacre. His voice has not improved over the years, sounding more and more like an offended cat every day. Tamlin tries to strum louder, or provide a healing rhythm for their ears while Lucien stokes the fire. Its crackling soothes, a baseline for whenever the singing comes to a lull.

“Why don’t you ever sing, Luce? Do you play an instrument?”

“Has anyone lived to tell the tale of a siren’s song?”

Andras looks unimpressed. “You’re telling me your singing is that good?”

Tamlin snorts. “Idiot.”

The clearing by the forest holds memories of pain and desperation, of many attempts to lure Tamlin out of his anger. Together, they have reclaimed this space. Here is a place where happiness lives.

ANDRAS

“It’s happening!”

The door to Tamlin’s map room slams against the wall as its virtually punched open. Lucien startles beside him, far too deep in his strategizing, not having hear the silver storm barreling down the hallway.

“Already? Time flies,” Tamlin hums getting to his feet. Today, he promised he will be picture perfect calm.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Lucien blinks, giving his tired brain a moment to shift gears. He jumps up with a gasp. “It’s happening.” He turns to Tamlin, grabbing him by the shirt to shake him. “It’s happening!”

“Yes, remember the plan? Cool, calm and collected?”

Lucien clears his throat. “Yes, yes, very calm. Bastion of support for the new parents.”

Despite this, the three of them winnow to Andras’ home and within seconds they are by Ailsa’s side. They crowd the healer who jabs at them with her carved wooden cane.

“Really, An? You couldn’t go a day without tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb.” Ailsa teases and tosses her head back against the headboard, her brow lined with sweat and hair sticking to her forehead.

“Watch it, I can still claim your child as this year’s Tithe,” Tamlin teases. The glare she shoots at him can tear down mountains, and he recieves another jab for stressing out a mother in labor. “Sorry, sorry!”

“What happened to cool, calm and collected?” Lucien hisses.

“It was too easy.”

On one side, Andras holds his wife’s hand and caresses her head, soothing her however he can. Lucien takes her other hand, bearing through the crushing squeeze. Ailsa is more than Andras’ wife; she’s a member of their little group, except her tolerance for their nonsense is much lower than her husband’s. Andras’ also worries that the more she sees the side of him when he’s with his friends, the more she’ll reconsider her choice in partners.

Tamlin helps the healer, acting not as the High Lord, but as the only student of the greatest healer the Spring Court has ever seen. “Do you still have the potentillas petals I gave you?”

“Yes, my lord. I have kept them safe for when you need them.”

The flowers are rare, and he’s unsurprised to hear that the healer has not used them yet. “Now would be a good time.” He says calmly, and takes them to brew Ailsa a cup to soothe her pain.

The birth of a child is not easy, and Tamlin remains at Ailsa’s beck and call. It takes hours, and none of them sleep.

When the cries of a baby rings out through the burrow, relief washes over all of them. They each get a turn holding her, after the parents, of course, and when Tamlin finally gets his hands on that bundle of joy, he cannot help the tears that escape him.

“It’s a baby, a baby,” he says to none—he says to everyone. “I love her.”

“You realize you have to give her back at some point, right?” Ailsa reminds him.

“Oh, Cauldron, he’s never going to leave, is he?” Andras sighs, but the smile on his face never fades.

RHYSAND

There is no word for Rhysand.

He is just Rhysand.

No memory,

No gesture,

No titles,

No one thing that can qualify the what he means to Tamlin.

The things that he has done for a boy in need, for an enemy in the wrong place, defy anything as simple as happiness, as vague as perfection.

He is the home that Tamlin returns to, the understanding that he needs.

He is the gentle touch that soothes a vicious, wounded animal—a quiet that brings peace to a storming mind.

He is the bar against which everything is measured.

Would the Mother sacrifice her soul for him? Would she abandon her morals in the name of protecting him? Would the Cauldron grant his every wish? Would it defy its own laws if only to comfort him?

No, they would do none of those things.

There is no word for Rhysand.

He is just Rhysand.

#tamlin big himbo confirmed #cassian himbo amplifier #tamlin #tamlin week #pro tamlin #cassian #rhysand #azriel #rhysand's sister #lucien #andras #acotar au #acotar fanfiction #my fics #tamsand #tamlin x rhysand #rhysand x tamlin

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theladyofdeath · 2 years

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I Burn For You {Eight}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction. Elriel. Period AU. Regency. 19th Century.

Written alongside @snelbz .

Click here to read the summary and for more chapters!

A/N: To be honest, this chapter is just really sad. I'm sorry....but, also I'm not sorry at all. ;) Thank you for reading! We hope you enjoy.

T/W: none

Azriel stood outside of Gwyn’s door, knocking in the most obnoxious manner. It was nearly nightfall now and Elain had spent the past two days with him, cooped up in his room, pretending like the rest of the world, like the ton, did not exist. It had been paradise, a personal nirvana he never wanted to end.

When she had left that morning, he felt like a piece of him had gone with her. Naturally, he longed for a drink in her absence to distract him from wanting to run across town, straight to her, but he forced himself to continue his break from the bottle and went towards the docks instead, where Gwyn’s loft was.

“Is there a reason you are trying to break down my door, my lord?”

Azriel spun around to find Gwyn at the bottom of the rickety iron staircase, a humored brow raised. She held a bunch of celery and carrots in her arms.

“I bedded Elain.” He had not been planning on getting to that point in their conversation, but he blurted it out of his mouth as if he was being controlled by someone else.

Gwyn’s humor faded and shock controlled her features. Then she was hurrying up the stairs toward him. “Well what are you waiting for? Inside, inside!”

Azriel threw open the door, so hard that he feared he nearly split the wood, and Gwyn followed him inside before shutting the door behind them and latching the lock. He felt the lock would not do much if someone was truly trying to break down her door, but perhaps it gave her peace of mind. Practically throwing her vegetables down on her table, she asked, “Now, when you say bedded—”

“I defiled her,” he clarified, realizing now how much he truly needed to speak with someone about this, how much he needed to sort his thoughts. “Many times. Continuously. For the past forty-eight hours.”

Gwyn’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. Perhaps he was sharing too much. He told himself to rein it in. “Apologies, Az, but I thought I had heard news that she had accepted the Prince’s proposal.”

Azriel flinched. “She did.”

Gwyn blinked. “I’m sorry, I’m not following. She is engaged to the prince?”

Azriel nodded slowly.

“But you just deflowered her?”

He continued to nod, lips pursed.

Gwyn stared at him for a moment. “Yes, no, I’m most definitely not following.”

Azriel groaned and let his face fall into his hands. “She accepted the prince’s proposal then I kissed her in the gardens - well, first I kissed her in the carriage. Actually, she is the one who kissed me in the gardens. Nonetheless, she showed up on my doorstep the next day and told me that she loved me and then one thing led to another.”

“And is she still intending to marry the prince?” She asked, gathering her forgotten groceries and heading for the small kitchen.

Just as he was about to respond with a resounding absolutely not, he paused. They had confessed to loving one another and she had removed her ring, but… Was this a one time thing? Before she marries the prince?

She had said that if she wasn’t going to marry for love, she needed to know that someone had loved her. He’d assumed that, since they loved each other, she could call the marriage off.

But how exactly does one call off a marriage to royalty?

When he did not answer, Gwyn frowned. “Az—”

“I love her,” he breathed and met her gaze. Gwyn’s eyes softened. “I love this woman and all that she is.”

Gwyn nodded as Azriel fell onto her creaky settee. “I know. And she loves you, it seems. She would be a fool not to.”

Azriel’s cheeks were tinged with pink as he nodded. “Perhaps…but what kind of man would I be if I asked her to call off a marriage to royalty? We did not speak of it, of her marriage, not after what we did, not once. If she still plans to marry Tamlin, I cannot ask her to give that up.”

“But you wish to?” Gwyn asked, gently, as she joined him on the sofa. “You wish for her to call off her engagement and marry you instead?”

Azriel hesitated but nodded. “Yes.”

“You hesitate,” she said and turned to the side to face him. “Why?”

“I do not know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Azriel gave her a pointed look. “Elain is a lady. She is a prominent part of the ton. Her family has been for centuries. Her sisters are a viscountess and a baroness.”

Gwyn nodded along as he spoke. “And you are a Baron. What of it?”

Azriel’s body deflated as he sank back against the cushion. “When we traveled this past year, I felt more alive than I had in a long time. We lived so simply, so freely. I could not get enough of it. Now, I crave that freedom. I do not think I wish to be a part of the ton any longer. I wish to live without their rules and their judgements. My title means nothing to me.”

“And it does to Elain?”

“Elain does not always love the ton but it is a part of who she is,” he replied, voice low. “A part that I do not see her parting with.”

A silence grew between them. Gwyn didn’t reply, because what could she say to that? High society was as foreign to her as some of the places they’d visited during their travels, though she understood his discomfort. The one event she’d attended with him had been dazzling, but nothing she’d want to deal with on a daily basis.

Her voice softened, as if the walls suddenly had ears, as she asked, “And what do you intend to do if the prince realizes his bride is no longer a virgin?”

Azriel swallowed. He wasn’t sure if there was any way he could be implicated. No one knew about the kiss in the carriage, there had been no one with them in the gardens, and the only ones who knew she’d been with him the past couple days were his staff, who were loyal to a fault.

But Elain would be. There was no way Tamlin wouldn’t notice. By the time she’d gone home, he was able to enter her without a hint of pain crossing her face.

“Am I a horrible person?” He asked, and the question was genuine. “Have I done something I should not have?”

Gwyn gathered her feet beneath her. “Do you feel like a horrible person? Have you any regrets?”

Azriel took a minute to answer but shook his head. “No. I have no regrets.”

“You are a man in love,” she said, and reached over to squeeze his hand. “The heart wants what it wants and there should be no shame in that. I only worry for Elain, for I know how cruel this world can be to a woman. I cannot imagine the pressure that women of nobility face when it comes to their virtue.” Azriel looked away from her as she continued. “You must speak with Elain…speak with her about how she feels, about how she is going to go about her future. You must be honest with her, tell her all that you have told me.”

She was right. He knew she was, and the brutal realization was terrifying. He did not know what to do. Yes, he loved Elain, loved her more than he thought possible. Yet, he could not ask her to give up everything for him. Give up royalty. Give up nobility, all she had ever known. He could not ask her to be shamed by the ton…again.

“I know. I will speak with her,” he promised, quietly.

“You need tea,” Gwyn announced and rose from the couch to make it.

“You are a good friend, Gwyn,” Azriel said, eyes following her. “Thank you.”

She gave him a mocking curtsy and a wink before turning to search for her teacups.

Azriel chuckled as he laid down on the settee and closed his eyes.

~.~.~.~

As Elain’s carriage bumped along the cobblestone pathway, she played with the ring she’d slipped back onto her finger. It twirled constantly, as if it, too, felt as if it didn’t belong there.

Two days.

Two glorious days spent with Azriel. In Azriel’s bed. Making love with Azriel. It almost seemed as if they were making up for lost time.

But it had also been two days that she had not been at home and she had no idea how many times her sisters had tried to visit her. She was grateful their father was out of the country, otherwise he certainly would have wondered where she had been.

After returning home to the curious eyes of the staff, Elain had quickly bathed and dressed herself. She was ready in record time, simply braiding her wet hair back, rather than wait for it to dry and be styled. In less than an hour, she’d been in and out.

She first stopped at Nesta and Cassian’s home on the edge of the city, but was informed by their doorman that the Baron was on a hunt with the Viscount. He told her that Nesta was visiting their sister and she thanked the kind man before hurrying back to the carriage and heading towards the river house.

Elain swallowed as the carriage halted before the elaborate front steps. Without waiting for the driver to dismount, she burst out of the carriage and was knocking on the door.

After Miryam informed Elain that her sisters were in the nursery, she nodded her thanks and made her way up the stairs, pausing just before she stepped through the open door. She could hear Nyx’s infectious giggling and both of sisters voices. They seemed to be in good moods, which was fortunate for her.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Elain entered the nursery.

Nyx may have kept babbling, but both Feyre and Nesta fell silent from where they sat on the floor with the babe.

“Hello,” she said, smiling and giving them an awkward wave.

Though Feyre continued to stare, Nesta, it seemed, had found her voice. “Where in the hell have you been?”

So much for the good moods…

Oblivious to the tension in the room, Nyx cooed excitedly and started crawling towards his aunt.

Elain melted at the sight and scooped him into her arms, peppering kisses on his chubby cheeks. “Hello, my darling,” she whispered, smiling before bracing herself and joining her sisters on the carpet. She set Nyx on her lap as she sat, fanning her skirt out around her. “I have been…out.”

Feyre and Nesta looked at one another. It was Feyre that said, “Elaborate.”

“I have visited you twice in the last two days, only for your staff to enlighten me that they had no idea where you were,” Nesta snapped, far less calm than their youngest sister.

“We were worried,” Feyre added.

Elain frowned, feeling guilty. That had not been her intention. With Azriel, she had completely lost track of time. Nothing outside of his home mattered.

When Elain did not speak, Feyre reached over to pat her on the knee. “Elain.” She met her sister’s eye. “You may speak freely with us. You know this.”

Elain took a deep breath and nodded. She knew she could tell her sisters anything, that there would never be any judgement. “I spent the last two days with Azriel. At his townhouse.”

Feyre’s eyes shot to Nesta but they both remained quiet, waiting for her to continue. When she did not, Nesta asked, “Why?”

Nyx giggled as he picked up a rattle and shook it.

A hundred different responses flooded Elain’s mind, but she did not hold back. If she was going to confide in her sisters, if she was going to ask for their advice and council, she had to be honest. “Because I could not allow my first time to be with someone whom I do not love.”

Her eyes burned as the words left her mouth, and before a tear could even fall, her sisters were beside her, their arms around her.

Nyx, not quite understanding what was happening, was trying to climb into Feyre’s lap. They pulled apart and even as Elain sniffled, trying to stave off the tears, she couldn’t help gazing adoringly down at her nephew. The image flashed in her head unbidden, a boy with golden-brown hair and the most beautiful hazel eyes she’d ever seen, a myriad of browns and green sparkling, as he looked up at her with a gap toothed grin.

It was so clear, so vivid, that Elain could have sworn it was a vision of the future, but she shook her head and ignored that fact that those hazel eyes were the same color as Azriel’s.

And so Elain told them everything. She started at the beginning, over a year ago, of the first time they’d met. She told them of the time he’d sketched her, at Cassian’s country home. Despite her shame, she told them of her juvenile behavior at the party following Feyre’s wedding, when Azriel had brought Gwyneth. It all spilled out after that. The kiss in the carriage, the gardens, and then how she’d wound up knocking on his door.

“I can’t help but notice you still wear the prince’s ring,” Feyre said, cradling a dozing Nyx in her lap, rocking side to side. “Do you…intend to follow through with the engagement?”

Elain stared at the rug they sat on and focused on her breathing. “When I was at Azriel’s, when we were lost in one another’s arms, in each other’s words, everything seemed so clear. Now nothing seems clear at all.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I do not know what to do.”

Nesta shifted where she sat until her legs were crossed beneath her. “I think it’s rather simple.”

Elain’s eyes shot open and she looked incredulously at her sister. “Pardon?”

Nesta shrugged. “Do you love him?”

That burning returned to Elain’s eyes. “You know I do.”

“Then it is simple.” Nesta shrugged. “You will refuse the Prince and marry Azriel.”

“It’s not that simple,” Elain hissed, then felt bad when Nyx’s lip quivered. She reached out a hand and patted her nephew’s head until he was dozing off once more. “It is not that simple,” she said again, much quieter.

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line. “Why not?”

Elain looked back at her spot on the carpet. “Because I have given Tamlin my word and I have already faced enough scrutiny in the past few years.”

Nesta fell quiet, taking in her sister’s words and trying to form a response but failing. It was Feyre that said, “What did Azriel say?”

Elains brows furrowed. “About what?”

“About what happens next,” Feyre said, as if it were obvious. “Did he say he wishes to be with you now? Did he mention he wishes you to be his wife?”

Elain sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she shook her head. “We did not speak of it.”

Feyre’s eyes softened. “And if he asked? If he told you that is what he wished, would you accept his proposal?”

Elain wiped a tear from her cheek. “I wish nothing more than to be his wife, but it is not that simple.”

“It should be.” Nesta’s voice was low, firm, but she looked at Elain with all the love she could muster. “If he is who your heart desires, do not complicate it.”

“I have long come to terms with the fact that I may not get my happily ever after,” Elain said, smiling sadly first at Nesta and then to where Feyre held her son. “Not in the same way the two of you have. I do not wish to draw the scorn of Tamlin or of the Queen.”

Neither of them said anything, not as Elain’s eyes settled again on Nyx. Silver lined her eyes and she blinked it away before she could shed another tear.

“Tamlin will be a good husband,” she said, wiping at her face, glad she had decided not to bother with cosmetics. “I will be well taken care of and my children will be powerful and affluent. But I will always love Azriel.”

Nesta’s eyes were soft as she looked at her sister, but it was Feyre that said, voice hesitant, “We’re overlooking a large detail here.”

“And what’s that?” Nesta asked.

She glanced between her older sisters before she sighed and said, “The prince, of all people, is certainly going to expect his new wife to be a virgin.”

Nesta swore, colorfully, while Elain’s face paled.

She hadn’t thought about that, hadn’t even considered the fact that any future partners would discover that her maidenhead was not intact. All she was focused on was Azriel, how badly she needed him. And she had needed him. She’d needed him as much as she needed air to breathe or food to eat.

“I can…pretend the first time,” Elain provided, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m a good actress.”

Feyre and Nesta shared a weary look.

“I am certain that the prince has deflowered enough women to know when it’s real,” Nesta said. Feyre’s weary look turned to one of exasperation at her eldest sister. Nesta just shrugged. “What? You know it to be true.”

“If that were to even work,” Feyre began, shaking her head at Nesta before looking to Elain, “is it truly worth it?”

Elain blinked. “Whatever are you saying? Of course—”

“You do not have to marry Tamlin,” Feyre said, gently. “You do not have to become a princess, unless that is what you truly want. You are not being forced into this life. If Azriel is who you love, and he loves you, you can have a life together. You can have a family with him that will be well cared for, even if they are not royalty. Is such a status worth wondering what could have been? Is that life worth giving up one where you can truly be happy?”

Nesta remained quiet but watched Elain as Feyre spoke. Nyx was sound asleep, his quiet snores filled the air as Elain’s eyes shone, yet again. She was feeling too much, her mind whirling, too many options available to her. Since her coming out, all she had longed for was to find a man that she loved, that cared for her, that could take care of her, that was held in high esteem by the ton. She had a prince wishing to become her husband. She was on the brink of royalty. Yet, all she wanted was to be back at Azriel’s, wrapped in his arms without a care in the world.

“I feel I should not be conflicted but I am,” Elain confessed, her voice coated in exhaustion and lacking emotion. The three sisters sat in silence for a moment before Elain asked, “What is it you think I should do?”

“We cannot answer that,” Nesta said, not unkindly. “You must do what you think is best for yourself and your future. Whichever path you choose, we will be here to support you.”

Feyre nodded in agreement and squeezed Elain’s hand. With a deep breath, Elain stood and walked toward the nursery door.

“Where are you going?” Feyre asked, standing with Nyx in her arms.

“To speak with Azriel,” she said, and anxiety erupted inside of her. “I must know how he feels now. What he wishes.”

“I will bring you on my way home,” Nesta said, and they kissed Nyx and Feyre goodbye before falling into the carriage of the baron and baroness. They spent the ten minute ride in silence but when they arrived at Azriel’s townhouse, Nesta said, “Use your mind, of course, think logically. But…it is also okay to think with your heart, too.”

Elain gave her sister a grateful smile before letting herself out. She walked to the front door as the carriage rolled away and raised her fist to knock but a voice scared her out of it.

“Elain.”

She spun around with a gasp only to find Azriel standing there, sheepishly, his hands in his pockets. She had not seen him in the dark, the flames from the lampposts too far away.

“Sorry,” he said, laughing quietly. “I just returned home.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Was saying hello to my horses in the stables before I went in for the night.” She wanted to ask him where he had been, but her voice was not working. “Not that I am complaining, because I am so glad you are here…but why are you here? It’s quite late and surely your staff has been wondering where you have been.”

It was true. She had no idea what her staff thought of her absence these past few days. “I needed to see you,” she breathed, swallowing. “To speak with you.”

Azriel nodded, and the light in his eyes dimmed a little. “And I with you.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we go inside?”

Elain nodded and entered, Azriel just behind her. There was no staff around and the house was quiet as Azriel led her down the hall, to his library. He closed the door softly behind them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke a word. Elain did not even know where to begin, but it seemed that Azriel had just as much on his mind because he was the first to speak.

“I have a confession,” he said, but he was not looking at her. Instead, he turned his back to her and ignited a candle so that he could better see her standing before him. The light coming from the walls was dwindling. After setting the candle on a side table, he said, “I had a lot of time to think during my travels.” Unsure of where this was going, Elain remained perfectly still and quiet. “Being with Gwyn was easy. Carefree. If I may be honest, I did not wish to come home. I loved the freedom that we had. When we were away, I had never felt so alive.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that Elain found adorable, even though nausea had begun to churn in her stomach at the mention of Gwyn’s name. “I long for that sort of freedom, Elain.” He finally met her eye and there were so many emotions in his gaze that she felt like crying. “For months I was drunk because I could not deal with reality. I had returned to Velaris and lost my freedom which was all I had because I had already lost you.” A tear fell down Elain’s cheek but Azriel remained where he was, feet away. “I will be honest and say that I thought about pursuing Gwyn, even though my feelings toward her are not romantic. But the life we had for those months was so easy. So damn easy, away from the ton, their judgements, their prying eyes and gossip.” He shook his head. “Yet, it never felt right, never felt whole, because I still longed for you…but these last few days, Elain, I have finally felt whole. When we were lost in our own little world, I felt at home for the first time since I was a child, when I was still too innocent to understand the ways of the world, the ton. When you left this morning, I instantly felt lost. You are my home.” A quiet sob shook Elain’s frame as she covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Azriel swallowed. “I love you,” he continued, quietly, and walked toward her at last. Gentle thumbs brushed away her tears. “I will not pretend that I do not, because I am madly in love with you.” Elain leaned into his touch as her tears continued to fall. “But I do not wish to pressure you, to make you choose and guilt you into choosing me. If you wish to marry Tamlin, then that is what you should do. If you wish to hold the title of princess and one day, perhaps, be queen of his territory, then you should. If you wish to have royal children and give them that life, then it is what you should do.” He stepped closer, so close that Elain had to look up to meet his eye. He brushed away her newly fallen tears before framing her face with his hands. “But if you are okay marrying a lowly baron, then I will remain in society and make sure that you and whatever future heirs we may have are perfectly cared for and cherished.”

Elain shook her head and closed her eyes. Azriel’s touch remained as she said, “I love you for that, Azriel.” She opened her eyes again and there was a pain in his hazel eyes that broke her. “But if I refuse the Prince, if I break our engagement, there is no more place for me in society.”

There they were, the words she had realized when speaking with her sisters, the words that had haunted her since she sat in the carriage. Elain’s entire life had been the ton for as long as she could remember, since the day she had been born. If she were no longer a lady, she had no idea who she was.

Besides, even if there was the slimmest chance that the ton would one day see her in high regards yet again, she could not ask Azriel to remain in a society that he hated.

“My title doesn’t matter to me,” he said, cupping her jaw and tilting her face up to his. “My lands, country home, and this townhouse are only fields, forests and dwellings. And you know that the opinion of the ton has long been of little consequence to my brothers and I. But I would weather all of that for you. If you wish to break your engagement to the prince and, by some miracle, there are no repercussions for it, I will dance with you at every ball for the rest of our lives. We can host ridiculous teas and lavish dinners and balls of our own in the country.” He brushed a thumb over her full bottom lip. “But I will not lie and tell you that a simple life, with you, away from dramatics and scrutiny of society, would be my greatest dream come true.”

Lip wobbling, Elain let her eyes fall closed, to try once more to keep the tears at bay. As Azriel’s thumb swiped across her cheek, she knew she was unsuccessful.

When her eyes opened, they were shimmering with tears, but were clear.

“I love you,” she whispered, simply, as if that was answer enough. And it had to be. For now, at least. For now, that was all she could grant him. She came in hopes of speaking with him, of telling him all that was on her mind, of getting everything out in the open, but after his confessions, after he spoke his truth, there was not much left to say.

Azriel nodded, his forehead resting gently against her own. “I know.”

She kissed him then, and it was soft and sweet and full of both longing and devastation. She did not blame Azriel for wanting a simpler life. With him, a simpler life did not seem all that bad, but she did fear it. She feared being tossed out of the only world she had ever known and into another. As a little girl she had dreamed of princes that would take her to far away lands.

She also dreamed of love.

As their kiss broke apart, Azriel’s arms went around her and she melted into his embrace. They did not speak. He did not pressure her to give him an answer, although she knew that she would soon have to.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight, they stood in the library, wrapped in each other’s arms without any indication of what the future would truly hold.

#elriel #elain #azriel #fanfic #fanfiction #period au #regency au #19th century au #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acosf #acofas #a shacmc collab

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Note

I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings for Saoirse and Auden!

I Like Shiny Things But I’d Marry You With Paper Rings- Saoirse x Auden (804 words)

What did he get the girl who had everything? It was a question that plagued Auden as he wandered the streets of Velaris aimlessly. Saoirse was a princess of Spring, the first they’d had in centuries and centuries of High Lords. She’d been doted on her entire life, cherished by the entirety of Spring. It wasn’t just her parents and brothers who loved her—her birthday was practically a holiday among even the lesser fae, happy to see a green eyed, blonde princess back in the palace.

What did that make him, then? Hardly low born—his parents were Carythnian warriors and he, along with his cousins, were too. Both were war heroes, members of the Night Court. Auden expected to be Nyx’s shadowsinger and spy just as his father was for Nyx’s father, when the time came. He didn’t belong in Spring and everyone knew it. His shadows trailed behind him, making him the dark outsider looking to kidnap the princess.

Only, Saoirse was a creature of the night, just like him. Golden as she was, he likened her to a shooting star or the dancing northern lights over Ramiel. Brilliant and beautiful only in the darkest of night. Auden wanted to take her away…if only he could find the right ring. Nothing seemed right, looked ugly and dull in comparison to the beauty she seemed to radiate so effortlessly.

It was driving him mad. He could hardly ask for help. Even Nyx didn’t understand his fascination with Tamlin’s daughter and his father he knew wished he’d take a look at any other female. Tamlin had taken one look at his wings, his hazel eyes, his brown skin and though he hadn’t outright slammed the door in Auden’s face, he knew the High Lord was tired of the choke hold Night Court seemed to have over his younger children.

After a week of nothing, and summoned by a letter from a worried Saoirse herself, Auden waited for the dead of night to slither into her window as he so often did now. No one but Aine ever caught them, and the littlest Spring princess was easily bribed–with coins, of course. Auden had a pouch tied to his belt, just in case she yanked open the door.

Saoirse sat at her vanity, brushing her unbound golden hair when he appeared. Their eyes met in the mirror before she turned, spinning so fast her white night dress caught around her knees. She flung herself into his arms, mouth pressed against his own before he could offer an apology.

“I thought you’d forgotten me,” she breathed. As if he could. She was easily the most beautiful female he’d ever seen in his entire life. Staring at her made his chest practically vibrate, his heart pounding a rough, snapping beat. In an ideal world, he would have gotten on one knee and begged her to marry him, foregoing the approval of the High Lord he knew he needed.

“I’m sorry,” he finally told her. He’d never been terribly good at voicing his emotion. Only with her, only like this, where no one could see them. When it was just them, and no one else. “I was trying to find a ring for you so I might propose…”

Saoirse blinked before stepping out of his embrace. She turned, scanning her bedroom until she found a corkboard of pretty ribbons she used to tie her hair back. With the same brutal strength all of Tamlin’s children possessed, she ripped it in half, tying one end of the midnight blue fabric around his ring finger.

“I love beautiful things,” she admitted, grabbing a pair of trimming scissors from her vanity to snip the edges. “But I’d marry you with nothing more than this ribbon.” With shaking hands, Auden took the other strip, tying it delicately around her same finger. “I want to give you something nice,” he admitted. Saoirse shook her head.

“I don’t need nice. I just need you.”

He exhaled a breath, closing his eyes at the rough, almost painful snapping in his chest. He’d felt it before, though never as undeniable as this. Proof, of their bond, of the connection between them. Blessed by the Mother. Mate.

She reached for his face, grinning bigger than he’d ever seen. “Father can hardly say no now,” she whispered before kissing him again.

“I should tell him before…”

“After,” Saoirse said decisively. “After we consummate it.” “He’ll kill me,” Auden laughed.

“He can try,” she replied. “Please. Take me out of here. I’m tired of Spring…I want to see starlight.”

And Auden, still dazed at the newly snapped bond, could hardly deny his mate anything, He reached for her, pulling Saoirse against his chest.

“Let's go see starlight.”

#acotar next gen #they were honestly so sweet to write #also as i wrote this like 4 new tamlin/adelina prompts came in #monster fuckers the LOT of you

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nomattertheoceans · 4 years

Text

Listening to Feyre and Tamlin's wedding and I'm like.... could this get any more similar to a white American traditional wedding??

#istg she didnt change a thing #like #they spend thee night before apart #feyre is wearing a white gown #tamlin proposed with a ring #feyre has a bouquet and she's walking down an aisle #the guests are sitting and get up when she walks #they're married by a priestess #uuuugh #this whole thing just bugs me soooo much #like omg i know it's kind of a detail scene from the beginning of the book but like...#she put zero effort into being creative with wedding traditions and it bothers me #also yes im listening to acomaf again lmao #sjm critical

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darling-archeron · 2 years

Note

My love! You know I've got to get my Feysand fix in, so about about some hcs for a Feysand modern day proposal? 🥰

hello hello hello! it's taken me a couple days to get to this but it was a lot of fun and basically turned into a mini fic in bullet points! (i do have the christmas fic version of this you requested stuck in wip hell lol. expect christmas in july.)

Ok so for starters Rhys would be super nervous, everyone knows Feyre is going to say yes because they're so sappy and obviously in love, but it doesn't stop him from worrying!

In terms of how he does it, Rhys is torn between a huge grand gesture (because Feyre deserves The Most and he wants to deliver) and keeping it small and intimate (since they both have an aversion to huge parties and feyre would be a little self-conscious at the attention).

He also wants to avoid any unpleasant memories of her first engagement with Tamlin.

Eventually, he decides to keep it simple with a nice dinner at one of their favorite restaurants, followed by stargazing in a secluded spot.

Rhys initially plans to keep the proposal a secret so nobody in his family spills the beans, but Az finds him standing in the middle of the living room staring at the ring one day. Naturally, it isn't long before Cassian and Mor have also been roped into the secret.

Thanks to Mor's not-so-subtle meddling, Feyre dresses in a gorgeous navy dress that just so happens to be the same shade as Rhys's dress shirt.

Rhys feels like he's had the breath knocked out of his chest all throughout dinner. He can't stop staring at Feyre, caught up in her bright smile, the way her dress hugs her curves, how the lighting glints off her eyes and hair.

At one point, Feyre leans in, bemused.

"Is everything alright? You've barely touched your food," she asks.

Rhys shakes his head and laughs off the nerves. "I can think of something else I'd rather be eating."

She smacks his arm lightly with a laugh, but says, "Maybe you'll be in luck when we get home."

Suffice to say, Rhys makes it through the rest of dinner without making too much of a fool out of himself.

After they finish, Feyre is prepared to head back home, but Rhys drives elsewhere, to a park a few miles outside of town. He pulls a picnic blanket out of the car so they can sit on the ground and stargaze.

It's reminiscent of one of their very first dates. The sky is clear, it's a beautiful night, and they're young and in love.

It's impossible to say how long they're out there for, equal parts sneaking glances and sharing smiles with each other and stargazing.

But finally, Rhys knows it's time. He pulls Feyre to her feet. "Let's go down by the lake," he says.

"Won't it be a little chilly?" Feyre asks.

Wordlessly, Rhys shrugs off his jacket, offering it to her. Feyre takes it with a small bemused smile and lets Rhys lead her down to the glimmering lake, where the stars reflect upon the water.

She knows Rhys is a hopeless romantic, but can never tell exactly what tricks he has up his sleeve.

"I remember the first time we came here."

She smiles at the memory. "So do I. I hadn't gone on a date with someone who wanted to go stargazing before. You were the first person I met who loved the stars like I did."

He winks. "I knew there was a reason you decided to keep me around."

Rhys's heart is pounding out of his chest, he can feel the weight of the ring box in his pocket as he squeezes Feyre's hands. But it's now or never.

"Do you want to know what else I remember about that night?"

He gently slips his hands away from hers and drops down on one knee, pulling the black velvet box from his pocket.

"I remember thinking that the joy in your eyes was as bright as the stars that night. I knew right then that I wanted to spend every day trying to make you as happy as you were then."

Feyre's hands fly to her mouth, overcome with surprise and emotion. Rhys's own eyes grow a little damp, recalling all the steps they have taken to get here, everything they've worked for.

"Feyre darling, will you let me make you smile for the rest of our lives? Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes," Feyre mouths, at a complete loss for words before she finds her voice back. "Yes, Rhys. Yes. Of course, I will."

She's falling to her knees just as Rhys is rising back up, so they both catch each other and stand.

Rhys holds her left hand reverently, and he slides the luminous sapphire on her finger. As Feyre pulls him in for a kiss, a shower of stars begins to scintillate down from the sky. They're laughing and crying and don't ever want to let the other go.

Rhys never tells a soul whether or not the timing coinciding with the meteor shower was planned. But he makes good on his promise to make Feyre's eyes shine as bright as the stars with joy. And she returns the feeling every bit as much.

#feysand #acotar #feysand headcanon #feyre #rhysand #acomaf #kat's writing #kate's writing #headcanon #fluff #mine

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ladyxskywalker · 3 years

Text

Misc Fic Recs 💫

princessxkenobi's 1k September Celebration 🌼🍂📖

thank you to the amazing fic writers for sharing some wonderful stories with all of us ! & to the kind readers for their constant support. 💛

please be sure to check all warnings & tags before reading

nsfw & adult content will be marked with a double asterisk **

fics marked as (series) are stories with two or more parts

pairings will be listed as (gn, f, afab, m, oc, ofc, onc, ace, masc, masc gn)

everything is organized alphabetically by fandom & character to the best of my ability

(If you would like to be removed, please send me a message to let me know 🙏)

enjoy ! xo ☕

✨ Adam Driver

Paul Sevier

The Late Shift (series) by @paper-n-ashes (f!reader) **

Clyde Logan

The Proposal (series) (mob au) by @hopeamarsu (f!reader)

Draluram (series) (mandalorian au) by @clydesducktape

Paterson

Can't Erase Your Heart (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au) (soulmate au) by @clydesducktape (f!reader) **

✨ Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Of Second Sons and First Loves (series) by @starryeyedstories (f!reader)

✨ Charlie Hunnam

King Arthur

Apprentice or King by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

Raymond Smith

The Little Sister (series) by @rayslittlekitten (f!reader) **

✨ A Court of Thorns and Roses

Lucien

His Habits (headcanons) by @honeymandos

Tamlin

A Vernal Love (series) by @thefoxinautumn @/moriamithirl on ao3 (f!reader) **

✨ Ewan Mcgregor

Dan Torrance

Snowed In by @serkenobi (f!reader) **

Elmont (Jack the Giant Slayer)

A Knight and Princess’s Heart Entwine (series) by @stardancerluv (f!reader) **

OMC 'Roman', but not Roman Sionis

Aces in Spaces (series) by @the-mandalorian-clone-lover (ace!ofc) (this is not rpf)

✨ James Bond

Wash Away My Sins by @lilhawkeye3 (james bond x vesper lynd)

✨ The Lord of the Rings

Éomer Éadig

Homesick by @thefoxinautumn @/moriamithril on ao3 (f!reader)

✨ Marvel

Loki

Altair + Vega (series) by @steeeeeeeviebb (f!reader) **

On a Tuesday Afternoon (library au) by @blackirisposts (ofc)

✨ Narcos

Horacio Carillo

ài wū jí wū (lunar new year) by @justrunamok (ofc)

The Colonel's Woman (series) by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

You Keep Walking (Down the Street) by @justrunamok **

✨ Original Poetry

Coffee Flavoured Tea by @morby

Poetry by Hawk by @lilhawkeye3

✨ Raymond Leon (Cillian Murphy)

Nothing for Free (In Time 2011) by @blinder-secrets (f!reader) (submitted by @karasong)

#pxk reaches 1000 💛🌼#multi fandom #pxk fic recs 💫

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Hold My Phone

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-11/T- (v seductive flirting)

Original Idea: Modern!AU (kinda sorta not really)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is so ridiculous. It’s basically a “Everything is Pretty Much the Same but They Have Phones” AU, not really a modern AU because I figured this would be how Rhys would handle having a phone with the High Lord act, lol

^^^^^

My phone buzzed in my pocket. In a meeting with some Autumn Court emissaries. I’m bored. Entertain me? Rhys’ text said.

Why are you texting me? Just use the mating bond, I texted back.

Yeah but I want these idiots to *know* that I’m bored of them and can’t be bothered to give them my attention.

Playing games with them?

Always.

Exactly how do you propose I entertain you?

It took his answer a few minutes to arrive. I wondered if it was because he was thinking about the wickedest, most flirtatious thing to say or something came up in the meeting that he did actually have to give his attention to.

What are you wearing right now? I shouldn’t have been surprised that was his reply.

My purple outfit. The dark purple one with the stars embroidered into it.

I’m debating asking you to send me a picture of you in it or asking you to take it off and send me a picture of *that*

I am not sending you any pictures while you’re in a meeting. I hadn’t replied to a text that quickly in a while.

His reply came quickly too, Send it down the mating bond then. No records ;)

I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. Up in our room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, stared at myself while lowering my mental shield, shot the image I was looking at—fully clothed—down the bond, and then slammed my shields back into place.

It took seconds for an answering image of Rhys licking his lips with a feral gleam in his eyes to bump into my shield. I rolled my eyes. My phone buzzed. Delicious. As always, darling.

Happy?

Deliriously.

Go back to your meeting, you flirt. I’ll see you later.

But I’m still bored.

Don’t be a baby. I have a meeting in 30 minutes I have to get ready for with the governor of the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

What are you meeting with the governor for?

I don’t think it’s any big deal. Probably just going over some requests from patrons who have gathered together a bunch of things rather than hauling themselves up 10,000 stairs to the House.

Good luck.

You too. I set my phone down on my vanity. I hated getting rid of the loose pants and sleeves but I knew for a meeting like this that I’d need a gown.

I sent Rhys mental images of every gown I tried on before selecting one, and every hairstyle I thought of doing, asking his opinion and ultimately ignoring it when he seductively told me he liked the most revealing dress with my hair unbound. I definitely called him a name I had no plans on apologizing for before replacing my shields.

I ended up going with a modest midnight blue gown glittering with silver threads that would be appropriately formal, but not so formal it felt like an occasion. Instead of a tiara or crown or diadem I kept my hair out of my face with a comb that was made of black metal and studded with diamond dust to look like the night sky. Crescent moon-shaped sapphire taking up most of the space in the middle.

Nuala and Cerridwen approved of my choices and I shooed myself out to go see the governor.

—

I collapsed on the bed after leaving my dress abandoned on the floor. The meeting was exactly what I thought it would be and after all the requests I was tired. I genuinely cared about my people but putting forth the mental strain of trying to figure out how to fix so many problems at once I started having to pretend to be chipper.

I hadn’t realized I dozed off until a weight falling onto the bed beside me woke me up.

Rhys fell in such a way that he could sprawl his wings above me, taking up a good portion of the bed. He was in casual clothing—silver-buttoned black shirt with the top button undone to let his tattoos peek out, black pants, low black boots—but I knew him better than to think he’d gone to the meeting in them. As he fell, he sighed. “That was tedious,” he remarked, setting a hand on the top of my head and scratching my hair. His fingers brushed my comb and he stopped.

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled.

He sat up to lean over me. He gave me a long, slow kiss as he removed the comb from my hair. “You didn’t wear the dress I chose,” he teased.

“I asked your opinion, not to choose for me,” I countered. “Besides, I doubt you’d even want another male to look at me in a dress like that.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded playfully. He kissed the hollow behind my ear. “You can model it for me later.”

“Flirt,” I accused.

“Spoilsport,” he retorted.

His phone started ringing in his pocket. I recognized the personalized tone. He only personalized a few. Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Mor’s, Amren’s, and mine.

Heaving another sigh, he extracted the phone from his pocket. “What do you want, Cassian?” There was no bite at all to the words, just resigned fatigue. He listened to words I couldn’t quite make out as he fidgeted with my comb in his other hand. He rolled his eyes. “That can wait. I’ll squeeze it in tomorrow, okay?”

More babbling from Cassian’s end of the call. I thought I caught snatches of Azriel’s voice too.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up, but I could still hear them talking as he ended the call. “Can never get one hour of peace with those two,” he muttered, silencing his phone.

He tossed it somewhere behind him and I heard it thunk on the rug.

“For tonight, darling, I have some much more entertaining events scheduled.” He bent over me and pressed another kiss to my lips. I kissed him back enthusiastically, reaching up to brush my fingers into his hair. He relaxed slightly, the weight of his head growing against mine as his neck tension softened.

“Let me silence my phone,” I said.

He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. “Done,” he said.

I smiled. “Bath before or after?”

“Hmm… after.”

“Fine with me.”

—

Both of our phones vibrating wildly on the end tables of our bed woke us the next morning. I jolted so hard I bonked my head on Rhys’ wing bone where he’d draped it over me as we slept, as he often did.

I reached out for my phone. There was no caller ID and the combination wasn’t one I recognized. That happened all the time. I answered anyway, assuming it was a matter of state, as usual. “Hello?”

“High Lady?” The voice was small and trembling. Not young, but frightened.

“Yes?”

“There’s something in the harbor.”

Before I could ask for more details, the caller hung up.

Rhys answered his phone much more lazily than I had. “This is Rhys,” he said. He never used his full given name to answer the phone. High Lord Tamlin, his enemy, could be calling and he’d still use Rhys.

He bolted up in bed so abruptly, his wing bone hit me in the back of the head. Thankfully the talon missed me. We both winced at the pain as he mouthed, Sorry, and leapt out of bed to get dressed. I figured I’d probably need to go investigate the harbor so I got up too and found a pair of pants, shirt, and overcoat. Socks and boots followed before I wound my hair into a bun so I wouldn’t have to braid it yet.

Rhys hung up. “Was your call about the harbor too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Though, whoever it was didn’t say much.”

“Same here. Ready?”

I put the same comb I’d been wearing the day before into the top of my bun so I had some sort of ornamentation on. “Ready.”

He grabbed me around the shoulders and winnowed us out of the house.

We reappeared on the docks.

A dark shape was moving around under the surface of the water. I grabbed the railing and peered over it. “Too fluid to be a whale,” I said, noticing a small gathered crowd taking pictures on their phones, some recording videos.

Rhys’ hand settled on top of mine. It’s moving like a serpent, he said down our bond.

My grip on the railing halted. A serpent? Now? Like—like a sea serpent?

He didn’t reply. His dark eyes following where the head’s shape appeared to be.

“Hold onto this for me,” he said, pulling out his phone and holding it out. I took it out of habit, barely noticing his wings extending.

“Wait—Rhys—don’t—!” Too late. He used a powerful launch from his wings to get him over the railing before plunging into the water. As he dropped, I saw his clothes change from the casual dark shirt and pants to his fighting leathers. I wasn’t even sure any of the faeries around us noticed the change. A few of them yelped as his splash sprayed into the air.

I clung to the railing, staring into the depths.

“Rhysand…” I complained. “Stop being so reckless.”

I heard that, he teased.

I meant for you to, I retorted.

Wanna see?

I’m holding your phone. I’m not getting in that water.

You know that’s not what I meant.

I sent the sound of my sigh down the bond and felt his chuckle in return. Fine.

A crack opened in his mental shield. I slid into it, keeping a tether to get me out whenever I wanted if I got freaked out. My eyes glazed over as I started looking through his.

The harbor water was relatively clear, but a bit blurry. I—no, Rhys—flexed his magic to clear up his vision. My—his—hair drifted in front of his eyes a bit.

A large, deep red sea serpent twined around ahead, barely visible through the murk. Large fins were tucked against its sides.

Wings? I asked Rhys.

Yes. For jumping out of the water and snatching sailors from their ships. Among other things, he replied. They usually dwell in the depths. Wonder what it’s doing here.

I didn’t reply as he swam closer. Inside his mind, I could feel him dismiss his wings to reduce drag. Feel the strength in his shoulders as he stroked forward. In his mind, I had no private thoughts, so I knew he felt my anxiety. My fear for his safety. I felt him send a wave of calm through himself. He wasn’t nervous at all—for whatever reason.

The serpent caught sight of him. My breath hitched, but Rhys didn’t even flinch. Gold eyes bored into him, fangs revealed in something of a snarl.

Sorry, love, Rhys thought, I need to speak to it mind to mind, and don’t want you here for it. Too hard to concentrate on two minds at once.

Fine with me, I replied.

He shoved me out of his mind.

I shook my head, blinking, as my consciousness returned to my own body. My hands were so tight on the railing that my knuckles were white.

Something tugged on my tunic. I turned.

A small faerie child with violet skin and long silver hair was standing beside me, looking up at me. “Are you alright, High Lady?” Innocence and genuine concern were in its voice. I knelt to be on the same eye level as the child, my hands resting on the phone in either of my pants pockets.

“Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just concerned for Rhys.”

The child looked into the harbor. “Mama says the High Lord is very powerful. He’ll be okay.”

I smiled at the child. “Yes. Yes he will.” I reached into the pocket of my tunic, pulling out one of the small candies I kept in there for when children stopped to talk to me—and Rhys usually. I offered it to the child. Everyone in Velaris knew their High Lord and Lady kept candy for children on them, so the child accepted without hesitation. They took off the wax paper wrapper and stuck the candy in their mouth before running back to their parents.

Rhys appeared on the dock behind me, dripping wet. “What’d I miss?” he asked.

I jumped to my feet and whirled around. “You okay?”

“Fine. I convinced it to leave.” He nodded toward the dark shape slithering out of the harbor now. “It was actually lost, I think. I managed to give it directions.”

I chuckled. “Never a boring day in Velaris.”

He joined my chuckle. “Not at all. Cassian’s gonna get a kick—” He swore. “I forgot. Cassian needed my help. You still have my phone?”

As I pulled it out of my pocket, he waved a hand to dry off.

He plunked in Cassian’s combination. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way.” He reached out a hand for me. I took it. Dark wind whipped around us as we winnowed away.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Hold My Phone

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ratabrasileira · 3 years

Text

The Fox of the Night

Chapter One.

Disclaimer: Characters belongs to Sarah J. Maas. Notes: KDSJKJSDKJSD I hope to don't give up from this one. Enjoy the reading and if there's any grammar mistake, please call me out!!

Summary: Since he was a toddler, Lucien was told to always be concerned about all High Lords, but more about the one from the Night Court. He couldn’t understand quite well why, Rhysand didn’t seem to be dangerous, he was charming, beautiful, elegant and extremaly hot.

The first time that Lucien saw him, it was in an Equinox Ball hosted by the Autumn Court. Lucien watched the High Lord of the Night Court standing in a corner, with disdain consuming his features and always, always, with that damned smile in his face. In that time, Lucien was only 16 years old; still very young and with his hormones on edge. He said to himself that it was normal to not stop looking at Rhysand, he said to himself that it was normal to think of him every night when thrusting his dick in his own hands.

Thing is, he could not let himself ramble about Rhys. Since he was a toddler, Lucien was told to always be concerned about all High Lords, but more about the one from the Night Court. He couldn’t understand quite well why, Rhysand didn’t seem to be dangerous, he was charming, beautiful, elegant, hot...

But Lucien understood it when he was 27. It was Winter Solstice commemoration and for an unknown reason, the High Lord of the Night Court had appeared in the Winter Court to celebrate the longest night of the year. As usual, Lucien couldn’t take his eyes from that deadly beauty, even more when that pair of violet eyes was looking at him so closely.

Lucien had found Rhysand in an isolated balcony of the Winter Palace. They were alone and for a long moment, it was just him and the High Lord, looking at each other without a single sound to disturb them. They gazed each other long enough to Lucien realize why he was so dangerous; he was sure that Rhysand was made of the night, and not a simple night, but the most powerful one. How could someone threaten him like this with a single look, a single manner? And yet, how could someone look so scary, but still extremely attractive?

Lucien didn’t know the answer.

The High Lord was the first to break the gaze. He peered Lucien down and gave him a mocked smile. A smile that made the fire inside Lucien’s vein go wild, ready to erupt, but he held it. At least held it enough until Rhys’ dark hair was not long seen and he could relief his power.

Late in that night he had to relief himself with a random guy who Lucien wished to look at least a little similar to the High Lord.

Now, a century later, Lucien looks at the High Lord who was laughing of his friends joke and ask how all his reprimed feelings ended. The answer this time he knew; Jesminda. Just to remember about her it was like a sharp knife passing through his heart and craving his soul among it.

They were at the Summer Court; the Summer Solstice Ball was happening in a barge, people dancing and drinking here and there and the sun hiding its face behind the sea. It was Lucien’s first national event as a courtier of the Spring Court; a cool job if you ask him, not one that he planned, though.

He localized his mother in the crowd. The Lady of the Autumn Court was looking to him, pain visible in his eyes. Lucien wanted to talked to her, wanted to hug her, wanted to do everything that his father prohibited him to do. He missed her.

But he missed Jesminda more.

He needed to get out, to take some fresh air, so he headed to the emptiest place of the barge. It seemed to be the back part, there were benches around the place and some table with board games. It seemed a good place to spent the evening with the family or the friends.

Friend. Lucien wanted to know the exactly meaning of it.

Of course, he had met Tamlin and some of sentinels of the Spring Court, but could he count them as his friend? Lucien asked himself when he propped up in the rail of the barge. Tamlin was a High Lord who saved him, how possibly could he be his friend? He was powerful, different… Another race. At least makes more sense to a High Lord befriend with him, a High Fae, than a Lesser Fae.

Lucien sighed. Things can be such a mess.

“Little Lucien” A deep voice purred from his side. The smell of rain, salt, and citrus hit Lucien before he saw who was standing before him.

The High Lord of the Night Court was looking at him with a lazy smile in his face and a relaxed posture. Rhysand propped his back in the rail to face Lucien, his head slightly bent. If Lucien thought him to be devastatingly handsome when he was young, now he couldn’t find a word to describe what Rhysand was looking like with all that sensual grace. It was like something divine.

Lucien might very well had let show in his face what he was thinking, because Rhys laughed softly. A lover’s laugh that bounced through Lucien’s body, stopping right below his belly. He couldn’t let the High Lord to have such power over him; it was already bad that Rhysand has a power over everyone.

“What you want?” Lucien asked, closing his face to an annoyed countenance. Not only his family had alerted him about Rhysand, but Tamlin too, and he wouldn’t disappoint his savior. Not that it was necessary to warn about it; something around Rhysand was looking extremally dangerous, even more because they were alone in a place where—

“No need to fear, dear.” Rhysand whispered, Lucien mentally scolded himself for letting it be shown. “I just want to... check on you. News runs pretty quickly in Prythian, as you might know.”

“I’m fine, thank you very much” Lucien answered coldly and remembering with who he was talking about he added “High Lord.”

“Are you, really?” Rhys insisted, approaching him more. Unintentionally, Lucien took a step back.

“Whatever is what I feel I don’t think it’s your business, my lord” What Lucien said took a deep laugh from the High Lord standing right before him.

“No, it’s not, indeed. But I would be glad if you share somethings with me, you may know” Rhysand said it with such a naturally that it was like a friend offering his shoulder to support. It only warned Lucien more. What the hell did he want from him?

Lucien didn’t answer, he just gazed the High Lord, whose eyes were burning him so strongly that Lucien thought he might be very well looking to his soul. He didn’t look away, though; let him be burnt.

“Tell me, then. How’s Tamlin going on?” Rhysand said, sliding his ringed hand in his pockets

Lucien might had known. Of course, the handsome enemy from the Spring Court would want information about it. Lucien only laughed, though. He wouldn’t deliver Tamlin, his savior and somehow his friend. Ever. “Is that what you want? To know more about Tamlin? I heard you two don’t get along, but you can save your breath, I won’t betray him.”

Rhysand only gazed Lucien before saying with a hoarse voice “I want you” Lucien’s heart stopped when he listened the three words. He was going to ask Rhys to repeat when the High Lord completed.

“I want you to work for me, Lucien” A well-known smile propped in Rhys’ face. “You and I, we could be like gods together”

“Why?” Lucien whispered. He didn’t dare to say things too loud, to breathe too loud.

Rhysand only approached him, less than a palm between their faces. Lucien could very well read all Rhysand’s features from that distance; see the stars in his violet eyes, feel the hot breath hitting his face, the smell of rain, salt, and citrus that threaten to drunk Lucien. If it was possible, Rhysand could be more handsome than ever when this close.

His deep voice shuddered Lucien’s body “You’re good and a completely waste in the Spring Court, Lucien. Please, don’t think that I hadn’t been watching you.”

“A creep thing to do, isn’t it?” Lucien couldn’t hold himself. He never could, actually, it was one thing that his mother tried to correct about him.

But before Rhysand could answer, a familiar voice called behind the High Lord “Lucien?!”

Both Rhys and Lucien turned to see Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court standing with a feral feature in his face. He looked to Rhysand more clearly and pure disdain was visible in his countenance “What are you doing here?”

“Tamlin, old friend, I’m just chatting with dear Lucien—

“Get the hell out of him and my court, Rhysand.” Tamlin interrupted Rhys. He grabbed Lucien by the arm and dragged him to where the ball was happening “Let’s go. Don’t interact with him. Ever.”

Lucien had no other choice but to follow his master. He looked back to where Rhys was standing, though, and was surprised to see the High Lord smiling at him with something gleaming in his violet eyes.

Lucien could not take this image out of his mind for months. Neither the High Lord of the Night Court’s proposal.

Next Chapter

#acotar fic #acotar fanfic #rhycien #rhysand #lucien #rhysand x lucien #lucien x rhysand #lucien vanserra #tfotn #the fox of the night

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helion-ism · 3 years

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Elucien + yellow tulips + red rose + peony + morning glory + hydrangea + heliotrope + daisy + coriander ❤️ please and thank you 🥺

🌻 yellow tulip: if their s/o is sad, what would they do to make them smile again?

lucien’s gonna go over the top. elain is sad for whatever reaso and he shows up holding like 3 puppies in their bedroom and elain laughs like “lucien we can’t keep them all” and he’s so relieved because she’s smiling (they end up keeping them). he also spontaneously takes her on a trip. wherever. just to distract her and show her what beauty the world has to offer.

I think what elain has to do whenever he’s sad is just be there for him to show him she’s with him and she won’t leave him. confirmation of her love and loyalty. but she would also cook whatever five course dinner she made to accept the mating bond, spend hours in the kitchen to cheer him up and make him think of one of the happiest days of his life, and be willing to give him space if he needs it.

🌻 red rose: what turns them on the most?

elain loves when she sees lucien tending to the garden. when he picks up a flower and gently plants it in the earth? his caring nature and passion for things is what gets her. but more explicitly, his hands. literally anything with his hands. when she watches him braid his hair. when he braids her hair? they won’t leave their bedroom. not for at least 3 hours.

lucien when elain finally speaks her mind: 🤩 I personally think that would be very sexy. but yeah, I think he would go crazy when he sees her wearing day court attire. a white flowing toga, flashing legs and a rope that shows off her curves. I also think this kind of clothing would finally represent elain and her inner self. flowing and easy. and then imagine elain dancing in her toga in the light summer rain of the day court? my poor boy would lose his mind

🌻 peony: how do they get their s/o to blush? how does their s/o make them blush?

I feel like elain is currently blushing at almost anything. when she learns how to handle literally everything, I would like to see her blush because of something lucien says or does that completely throws her off balance. lucien is not as easily fazed. but when elain notices something about him that nobody else seems to appreciate or takes for granted, he actually blushes and then plays it off. like lucien always working (him still helping with the spring court) or sharing important information (about tamlin) and doing his best to contribute to life/sacrificing himself (going on a journey to raise an army to help fight hybern) or even something small like giving up plans to be with elain when she’s not feeling well, she would be the one to finally show him appreciation and acknowledge it and be grateful — because nobody else seems to be 🙃

🌻 morning glory: what is their favourite form of physical affection?

lucien loves waking up with elain in his arms still sleeping. mornings are his favourite time of the day so naturally he loves starting them with his mate. a little bit of cuddling and more included 😁

picture this: everytime lucien is excited about something, he subconsciously grabs and squeezes her hands — and she absolutely love this small gesture. she loves his hands and his enthusiams and that he shares with her. 🥰 he actually needs to physically touch her to express his excitement.

🌻 hydrangea: how often do they get into fights with their s/o? who usually apologizes first?

they don’t fight often because lucien is peaceful and doesn’t seek out arguments. they generally agree with each other. but if they do have a fight or disagreement, I really feel like lucien is the one to apologize first. elain has always been coddled by her sisters and protected by them — she’s not the one to see her own mistakes first, I think. but after a while, when she realises she’s been in the wrong, too, she will definitely interrupt his work day and find a way to make it up to him. 😎

🌻 heliotrope: who would be the first to propose?

lucien definitely. elain is traditional and so is he in this regard. lucien’s mum would give him one of her family’s heirlooms and it would be the most beautiful rose coloured diamond ring. and she’d obviously love and cherish it.

🌻 daisy: what is their love language, both giving and receiving?

I once made a post about lucien’s love language. giving: act of service and physical touch 100% simply because of everything he has experienced so far. he lacked physical affection, got abused, and that’s why imo, he gives back what he always wanted. gifts are also a pretty good one for lucien.

receiving: physical touch for reasons mentioned above. he would definitely appreciate physical touch out of love. and definitively words of affirmation because damn, somebody better tell him he’s doing good. 🥺 like does anyone ever thank him for anything? tell him he’s amazing and courageous and beautiful? he deserves it.

elain loves to give quality time. she loves spending time with the people she cares about. she lives in the same house as feyre (let’s not get into this right now) and this tells me that she wante to be around people and does not like to be alone. which is why she likes to share her time with others.

receiving: sincere words of affirmation — she needs somebody to listen to her and encourage her to do be herself and to step out of her comfort zone. she’s currently not doing that, but I hope that as soon as she leaves the night court, she will find courage in herself and that lucien can also help her with her confidence. gift giving. first of all, they were poor, so I think elain would generally like the idea of somebody thinking of her and getting her something. the other thing is that she loved her human life and being engaged to graysen. and a process of that is of course courting and gift giving. I think elain would like to experience this as a fae. especially because gift giving is not just buying something for somebody, but it’s remembering and thinking of somebody even though they’re not there.

🌻 coriander: answered already 😌

credits to @dreamwonderandexplore for helping me with this 😏

#elucien #elucien headcanons #thanks for asking ❤️#lucien vanserra #elain archeron #sisididis #ask game

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

The Bet | Chapter Thirteen

Rhys’ POV of this chapter here

Day 37 (Part Three)

“He was working with Hybern. With her.”

The “her” seemed to mean something to everyone else, but not Feyre. She didn’t get why everyone else winced, even Amren. “Who is she?”

Rhys looked at Feyre. “Just someone from my past.” She could see the pain in his eyes... and then it clicked. What was it Rhys had said in her studio over a week ago when she had a panic attack?

I stayed because I was scared. Scared of what she would do to my family if I tried to go. And every night she made me... attend to her until she was satisfied.

Feyre’s eyes widened. Was it possible this horrid woman was the “she” that everyone seemed to know about? Feyre could tell from the look in Rhys’ eyes that he knew exactly what she was remembering. And the subtle nod he gave her confirmed it.

Tamlin had been involved somehow with a woman who basically raped Rhys. Honestly, she wasn’t too surprised. Tamlin never had been a good person. Perhaps that’s where he went on all those business trips. Feyre decided not to press the issue.

Cassian, hardly less confused and the only one who didn’t notice the silent conversation between Feyre and Rhys, asked, “And how does Feyre know this douche?”

Mor looked annoyed. “Really, Cassian? Could you be any more insensitive?”

“It’s alright, Mor,” Feyre intervened. She turned to Cassian, who deserved an explanation. “Tamlin was my fiancé.”

Silence met Feyre declaration. Mor already knew and Rhys had surely figured it out. Amren remained unfazed; who knew what was going on in that woman’s head? Azriel had certainly heard Tamlin call Feyre his fiancée, so he didn’t look too shocked. Only Cassian’s eyes widened. Feyre could almost see the gears turning in the poor man’s head. “Oh,” was what he settled for.

Feyre snorted.

Then Cassian glanced at Mor’s ring finger, still occupied by the diamond. “Um...”

Mor just grinned. “I’m wearing it for safekeeping, Cass. Wouldn’t want to lose it before we can sell it.”

A matching grin spread across Feyre’s face. “We?”

Mor blinked. “I meant you, of course.”

Feyre giggled.

Amren finally joined the conversation. “I can help with that. Probably get Feyre a good price.” Despite the kind (and unexpected) offer, making Feyre remember she was a jeweler, Amren’s tone was as bored and disinterested as ever.

“Thank you, Amren,” Feyre said.

The short woman just waved her hand in a meh gesture and said, “I’m leaving now. No point sticking around with you lot. Want me to take the ring?”

Feyre answered, “Yes, please,” making Mor frown.

“It was fun while it lasted. I’ll have to go buy myself an engagement ring.” Mor obediently gave the ring to Amren while Feyre rolled her eyes at the idea of Mor proposing to herself.

Azriel, who had been silently observing throughout the whole process, said “Feyre, if I could speak to you for a minute?”

When Feyre nodded, Azriel stood and walked out of the room. She followed. They walked into a kitchen, small but with nice appliances.

“I’m so sorry that happened, Feyre.”

Feyre smiled. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I have a lot of connections.” Azriel did work in the CIA, after all; this was no surprise. “If you wanted me to look into Tamlin, I could do that.”

Feyre blinked. “What exactly would you be looking for?”

“Crimes, unusual activity, updates on his behavior, anything really.”

“Um, that sounds great, but is it legal?” Feyre winced as soon as she spoke.

Azriel didn’t seem offended at all, just slightly amused. “Not at all. And, of course, if it makes you uncomfortable, I certainly won’t do anything.”

Feyre sucked in a breath. “I’d like that. Thank you so much, Azriel. And... my best friend, Lucien Vanserra, didn’t leave with me because he wanted to expose Tamlin. He thought there was illegal activity in the company. So he pretended he hadn’t let me out, that I’d escaped. And he usually goes everywhere with Tamlin, and if he had been there, he definitely wouldn’t have let Tamlin do anything like that. But he wasn’t. And I’m worried.”

Azriel listened to this whole garbled speech expressionless, though his eyes tightened a bit when Feyre mentioned escaping. She remembered the scarred hands that she had noticed when they ate at the cafe. What had happened to him?

“I’ll check up on him. And try to see about this illegal activity he suspects.”

Feyre grinned. “Thank you so much, Azriel.” She threw her arms around him.

Azriel stiffened a little, but then he hugged Feyre back. After a moment, the two separated. Azriel gave Feyre a concerned once-over and said, “You look tired. Rest, Feyre.”

Feyre smiled gratefully at the observant man. “I’ll try. Thanks again.”

There was nothing else to say between Feyre, shocked into silence by seeing Tamlin, and Azriel, always quiet. They exchanged comfortable smiles once more and Azriel left the kitchen.

Feyre turned and braced her hands on the counter, staring at the window above the sink, but not actually seeing, lost in her thoughts.

“Hey.”

Rhys’ voice. Feyre stopped breathing for a second, then without turning around, said, “Hey.”

She could hear Rhys take another step behind her, then realized she could see him in the window’s reflection. Rhys’ eyes met her in the glass.

“I’m so sorry, Feyre. I never should have attacked him like that. That was not my right.” His words were clearly a struggle, his voice full of regret.

“Okay.” That was all Feyre could manage, still uncertain of how to feel.

Rhys kept staring into her eyes in the window’s reflection. “No. Not okay. I shouldn’t have... I just... when we were in the gallery, you looked terrified. And I remembered what you said in your studio, about how he trapped you. I started to suspect. But when Tamlin grabbed you, I knew. I knew that he was the one that hurt you. He’s the reason you go to therapy and support groups and have panic attacks and look so depressed all the time. He’s the reason all the light has left you. Maybe I’ve never seen you before you met him, but I see you, Feyre. I can tell you used to be happier. And I just wanted to make him pay. I know that’s not an excuse. I was just so angry.”

Feyre swallowed. She was still looking into the glass, her back to Rhys. She didn’t know if she could bring herself to turn around. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.” Rhys took another step toward her, then stopped. His voice quieted. “You were yelling at me to stop. And it didn’t matter what he’d done. Nothing mattered except for you telling me to stop. And I didn’t.”

“It is alright.” Feyre meant it. “He deserved it. And maybe you shouldn’t have done that anyway. Honestly, it scared me. You scared me. And I just don’t want to deal with violence anymore.”

Rhys winced, but before he could say anything, Feyre continued, “Please promise to never to do that again.”

“Of course I promise. I’m so sorry, Feyre. I will never act like that again. But that doesn’t warrant your forgiveness. I don’t deserve that.”

“Don’t tell me what you don’t deserve. I forgive you, because if I came across the woman that hurt you, I would have done the exact same thing.”

She hadn’t even admitted that to herself.

His eyes flicked. “I know.”

“She really... works with Tamlin? And what’s Hybern?”

Rhys didn’t avert his gaze, but he looked like he wanted to. He looked pained. “Yes. And Hybern is a company that she works for. Amarantha. It’s only fair you know her name. And the rest of it - you’re caught up in all of this now, after all.

“She holds a lot of power, but she isn’t at the top. That’s the CEO. They call him the king. I’m not sure what his real name is.

“My family owns a business called Velaris. It’s been passed down through the generations. I never took to it, ended up hiring a few people I trusted to look after it. Business isn’t really my thing.

“Amarantha wanted control of Velaris, so with the king’s permission, she arranged a meeting with me. Velaris belongs to my family. I only agreed to go as a courtesy; I never had any intention of selling. She threatened my family. Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren. She said she’d kill them. There was one other option, aside from letting them die or selling my family legacy.” Rhys’ eyes shuttered. Feyre sucked in a breath.

“I texted Mor, telling her I wasn’t coming back for a while. None of them knew anything about this. They thought I was just going to a business meeting. So did I, for that matter. So I told Mor not to worry, I just needed some time. And then I became her whore.”

Feyre was shaking. “How long?”

“Two years.”

Rhys was older than Feyre, perhaps 27. She was only 24. But to spend two years of his life like that... even if it had happened recently, he still must have been so young when it started.

Feyre could make out a tear sliding down his cheek in his reflection. Her own eyes were watering. “How did it stop?”

“She got called back to Hybern’s headquarters. Damage control. Apparently Tamlin started dating someone and she needed to let me go to deal with it.”

Feyre gasped. “Me?”

“Yes. She was supposed to go get him in order. Hybern had wanted Tamlin to marry Amarantha to solidify ties between the two companies. Tamlin didn’t want to, though. He wanted to marry you.”

Feyre’s brain was struggling to catch up. “But. I didn’t. Tamlin was supposed to marry your... her? Why would he give up marrying some rich bitch for me? He didn’t even like anything about me!”

Rhys winced. “He never wanted Amarantha. No one did. And I heard Tamlin picked up some girl off the street to avoid her. I’m sorry.” His tone was genuinely regretful.

“Don’t be sorry, Rhys,” Feyre breathed. “I know he didn’t love me. And I’m glad to know why he wouldn’t let me leave. I always wondered, because I was poor and he spent virtually all of our time together trying to change everything about me. I know I shouldn’t, but I always wish he’d have chosen some other girl to terrorize.”

Rhys took a step closer. His third throughout the whole conversation. He had started at the doorway and now he was halfway across the room.

Their eyes had been locked in the glass for the entire time since Rhys had entered, and neither stopped looking now.

“I don’t think you shouldn’t. Anyone would wish it wasn’t them.” A pause. “As you’re probably aware, that was almost a year ago,” Rhys continued. “I was allowed to leave, so I went home. And the others were so angry. They had been worried sick the whole time, looking for me. And then I confessed everything, and they weren’t so angry at me anymore. I never mentioned Tamlin’s name, I can only assume, because Mor would have put it together, that you were...” Rhys trailed off. “I got a job as a flight instructor, like I’d always wanted, and gave complete control to the board I put in charge of Velaris. The months passed. And then Mor told us her friend Feyre was coming to New York to be an artist.”

Rhys took another step.

Feyre wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what Rhys had been through, and how the things that had happened to the both of them were connected. How Rhys might still be with that bitch if Feyre hadn’t met Tamlin.

Another step.

“Rhys,” Feyre rasped. “I-” Tears were sliding down her cheeks. Rhys was silently crying as well.

Rhys was right behind Feyre now, but he didn’t dare touch her. Not after what she’d dealt with. Rhys still didn’t know the details, but he knew she was messed up inside, and he would never touch her like that without permission, Feyre knew.

So Feyre stepped backward.

Her back lightly touched Rhys’ chest. They were still staring into each other’s eyes in the window’s glass. Not once breaking eye contact, Rhys leaned into Feyre.

Feyre leaned back as well, until they were pressed into each other. She tipped her head back onto Rhys’ shoulder, finally ending the staring contest. Feyre’s eyes closed as her head fell against him.

Rhys nuzzled her neck and Feyre let out a sigh. She reached back and grabbed his hands, sliding them onto her hips.

Rhys’ hands tightened, not straying from Feyre’s hips. His mouth was pressing against her neck now, lightly dragging his lips over skin.

Feyre’s breathing turned ragged. Mor may give her another pass for the bet, claiming the trauma of being attacked by some motherfucking wacko allowed for a slip. If she stopped now. But fuck the bet. Feyre didn’t want to stop.

Feyre’s breath hitched as Rhys removed one hand from her hip and used it to turn Feyre’s head toward his own. “Feyre.” She didn’t know what that was: a request? A plea? A prayer? Maybe he just liked the sound of her name on his lips. Feyre certainly did.

She turned in Rhys’ grasp, fully facing him now. His one hand remained on her hip, the other now delicately tracing her jawline.

Feyre lifted a hand and gently used her thumb to wipe away his tears. He did the same, caressing her cheeks.

Rhys leaned forward and placed his forehead against Feyre’s. His nose brushed her own. Feyre’s blood was boiling now, her heart racing.

All she wanted was to damn the consequences and press her lips against Rhys’ mouth. And then reality came crashing in.

Only an hour earlier she had faced Tamlin, her nightmares come to life. Only an hour earlier she had been terrified and helpless. And only minutes ago Rhys had shared his traumatic past with Feyre, showing her the broken part of himself. This was a horrible idea for so many reasons.

Feyre had no idea what was happening right now, the electric sparks running through the two of them. But she just couldn’t handle it. It was too soon after everything, too much.

Feyre stumbled backward out of Rhys’ grasp.

Rhys looked horrified. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I can’t,” was all Feyre said before she bolted out of the room, ignoring Rhys calling after her.

#feysand #acotar #the bet #my writing

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