Alex of 90s

Alex, 35 years Genderfluid aegosexual. makeup,Tolkien(elves),books, ASD ,ADHD,Book mole. Eris and Nesta defender soldier in Autumn Court born on Calamai . Inner Circle hater.

[alexof90s]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Original Work, A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence A High Priestess arrives in Velaris bearing a prophecy.Three heirs from a forgotten kingdom are coming to Prythian.

Vallahan <finally> aided Spring cause other fools didnt think big picture.

Dragons,Heirs,IC and others bashing.

YOU WILL LOVE THIS

[the-darkestminds]

Autumn's Shadow: Chapter 38

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

Summary: A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

HUGE thank you to @plumita-d-la-sangre for allowing me to use the gorgeous artwork they made of the original panels!!! 🥹 You are awesome!

a/n: See ao3 author's note

Read on AO3!

It's been a while, so please let me know if you want on or off the tag list!

Tag List: @jules-writes-stories @chunkypossum @mistandmemories @molcat07 @hornysadfrog @that-girl-reading @fourteentrout @iftheshoef1tz @g00seg1rl @pippsmcgee @buffy-vanserra @jolenes-library @astro-h0e-4azris @born-to-riot @alexof90s @wrraccountant @tessville @eatsbooks @plumita-d-la-sangre @ejkreader @stargazingmellon @skies-for-eyes-trees-for-knees @jir67 @theiudices @werehorsebite @bloodyplunder @thesourcabbage @irithiadourden @lizzo78 @frostystarlight @vnfadinglight @azrielsdaggerpolisher @lunaophelia @heavenisnofeeling

[alexof90s]

There are stories you are waiting whole day to appear.

Chapters: 7/71 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, a court - Fandom Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Azriel/Gwyneth Berdara, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Azriel & Gwyneth Berdara, Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Azriel

Some gifts are only ever passing through you, on their way to where they're actually needed. Azriel is about to learn that the hard way - about a necklace, about his own shadows, and about the name he's been saying out loud for years that was never quite the right one. A long Gwynriel slow burn.

[torchwood-99]

Emerie deserves so much better than Morrigan.

Emerie grew up in a deeply sexist society, whose practises left her physically disabled. She knows that Rhysland and the rest are trying to change things. Not instantly (despite Rhys's supposed immense power) but they're making an effort. She is trying to change things too. She is building a life for herself, she is paving the way, going against the abuse of her family to run her own life.

Morrigan also came from a deeply sexist society, one that physically abused her. She got out. Now, if Morrigan decided to wash her hands entirely clean of Hewn City and everyone inside, that's totally fair. She was abused, and a clean break is totally her right.

But Morrigan was given an important role in the running of Hewn City, and has done nothing for the women still living there, still being abused there.

If Morrigan didn't want to help the women and other victims in Hewn City, then Morrigan should resign her post.

Don't pair Emerie up with Morrigan, SJM. Don't pair her up with Morrigan because they're the only two female leads who are attracted to female characters. Don't do that to Emerie.

[artemissysworld]

Well I love you, asshole

So remember this whole idea about Tam having an adult daughter coming back after everything and wondering where the hell is her Uncle Lu ? :)

Presenting my new fic ! Prologue below the cut or on AO3

Fifty-five years ago, Tilia fled the Spring Court and Amarantha on her father's orders.

Tamlin is alone, unhappy, a mere shadow of his former self.

The break between Lucien and Elain is complete, leaving Lucien with a bitter taste in his mouth and bottomless despair in his heart. He has lost everything: his mate, Tamlin, his family, and his life in Spring.

When Tilia finally returns home, the danger gone, she has only one question for her High Lord father: where, for heaven's sake, is Uncle Lu?

200 years ago - Greenwood Manor  (Spring Court)

The sounds of breaking glass, raised voices, shouts. A body being dragged across the parquet floor. An inconsolable newborn. A wail, a plea. Tamlin ran, traversing the rooms of the manor, he only had to follow the sounds. The smell of blood.

Every door he passed was shut tight, the staff gone to ground like animals before a storm.

The double doors were closed, locked by a magical seal, but it took him only seconds to open them. He drove his shoulder and all his strength against the door, shattering both the spell and the wood. His father stood there, in the middle of the room. In the middle of his room. Of their room. Lita was on the floor. 

Her white nightgown, still stained with the blood from childbirth, was torn. She was crying. She was pleading. And the Spring Lord was there, a knife to her throat, his eyes darkened with rage.

The room smelled of blood and candle wax and ink, and something sweeter beneath it all, milk, newborn skin, which made it worse.

"Let her go!" Tamlin ordered, with a conviction he didn't know he possessed. "Now!" He advanced with a determined step, the knife he kept tucked into his boot 'just in case' in his hand, threatening his Lord Father so he would release the young mother.

A sneer came from behind him.

"Looks like your balls have grown, little brother. A bit late, though."

Tamlin whirled around, facing his oldest brother, baring his fangs menacingly.

"She doesn't know anything," he told him, then, to his father, "Let her go. Let Lita go."

His father grinned, a cruel grimace etched on his features, as he pressed the blade slightly against Lita's frail throat. He held her wings with one hand, preventing her from moving, pinning her to the ground. His hands were steady. That was the worst of it, but the steadiness, the absence of any trembling in the hand that held the knife, as if he didn't care about Lita at all.

"I don't know where my brother is, High Lord, please," she whispered.

But he didn't believe her. Or perhaps he enjoyed toying with her? A thin trickle of blood ran down her collarbone, beneath the neckline of her white gown, and Tamlin lunged forward. He poured all his magic, all his strength, and rushed at his father, shouting.

However, the Spring Lord was fast. And so were his two eldest sons. Three against one, Tamlin would never gain the upper hand, but if only Lita had time to grab their daughter and escape, she could get to safety. They could get to safety, and that was all mattered to Tamlin.

A flash of green and gold illuminated the room for a moment, a flash of blood, of pain, and Tamlin landed on the floor, kneeling before Lita, a dagger embedded between his ribs. He raised his hand to her, caressing her cheek in a silent promise, and shook his head as his eldest brother plunged another knife into his thigh. 

"I'll tell you," he whispered to his father, "I'll tell you where Rhysand is. But you must promise to let Lita leave the court. Please."

The patriarch's grip tightened on the Illyrian's wings, but he nodded, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Very well, son. We have a deal."

Tamlin swallowed, pleading for Lita's forgiveness with his eyes, and spoke. He said all he knew; if there was any chance of saving the female he loved and their newborn daughter, it was this. His father would leave nothing to chance. He knew, even as he opened his mouth, that she would hate him for this, if she lived, she would hate him, and he was choosing that over the alternative, because living without her was not a possibility. 

"Well, there you have it," the Spring Lord said, "it wasn't so difficult, was it?"

And Lita's scream ripped through the air. A pool of blood formed around them, and the father tossed the young mother's wings to his eldest son with a satisfied chuckle. "They'll look just fine in the library, don't you think?"

Tamlin didn't have time to react, to recover from his shock, before his father plunged his knife back into Lita's throat. Tamlin screamed, but it was too late. Life left the purple eyes of the female he loved, her beautiful mouth frozen in an expression of terror. He lunged forward, but the pain prevented him from reaching his father. Instead, another blow froze him, pinning him down, a soldier unable to fight.

"You should have told me everything from the start, Son. You're nothing but a disappointment. An Illyrian bastard as the mother of my only grandchild? I might have let it go if she'd been more...cooperative, for the sake of our family. Well, in the end, she'll leave this Court just fine. I just didn't specify 'alive' did I ? I'm sure Rhysand will love the sight of his beloved sister's head down the stream of the river."

Tamlin didn't answer. He could barely hear. He was in a fog without beginning or end, in a bottomless, black sea. Lita's blood ran down his fingers, his wrists, soaking the carpet.

He tried to rise and couldn't, and that was when he understood what the rest of his life would look like.

And their daughter, their beloved daughter, cried in her crib, as if she knew what had just happened in her parents' room, as if she understood that her mother would never hold her again. The baby's cries didn't stop. Tamlin's world had ended and she was still crying because she was hungry, because she didn't know, because she was three hours old, and she would never know her mother.

Now - Velaris (Night Court)

Lucien's eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright in bed, his legs becoming entangled in the sheets. He was in his room in Velaris. The light of the Night sky filtered through the shutters, illuminating the armchair where his belongings lay. In a single bound, he grabbed the shirt he'd left behind when he went to bed, pulling it on with a speed and dexterity driven only by the pain in his chest.

Elain.

Elain was aching; he could feel it. He could feel her heart pounding, with panic, with pain; he could feel her apprehension, her anxiety.

With a heartbeat, he rushed into the corridor, the dagger he'd placed on his bedroom dresser in his hand. He tried not to think that this dagger had been given to him by Tamlin, many decades before, when everything was still simple. He crossed the corridors, reaching the door of Elain's room, the carpets absorbing the sound of his bare feet striking the floor at an inhuman speed.

He opened the door with a swift flick of his fingers, his magic gleaming in the darkness of the room, and rushed inside, ready to save his mate.

Elain.

Lucien stopped dead, his eyes widening. His fingers fluttered in surprise, in astonishment, his dagger falling to the floor with a thud.

"Elain?"

She was there, she was really there, but Lucien had been mistaken. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't panicked. She wasn't in pain. Quite the opposite.

Elain sat on the bed, the sheet pulled up to her bare chest, concealing little but enough. Beside her, and having already drawn his sword, stood Azriel, half-naked, who, after the initial menacing glance he'd managed to throw at the intruder, now seemed rather genuinely sorry.

Lucien swallowed. Painfully. His heart was still hammering with a desire that wasn't his own, the bond singing a wrongness through his ribs even now.

Elain tilted her head to the side before spitting out, in a tone more venomous than he'd ever heard from her: "What do you want, Lucien?"

The emissary shook his head, closing his eyes, as if to erase from his memory what he had just seen. "I... I thought something had happened to you, I... the bound was just... I..." he stammered, searching for his words, as he almost never did. He had only lost his words twice: when Jes had died and when Tamlin had-He didn't let himself finish that thought. He never did. Not when it came to Tamlin.

"Yes, well, I'm fine! So you can leave now," she ordered abruptly. 

The room smelled of sweat, candle wax, and worse, love. It wasn't lust that existed between them, and Lucien saw it, smelled it, felt it. He knew that scent. It was feelings. Feelings Elain would never have for him. He felt, for one absurd moment, like a child caught somewhere he shouldn't be, though he was the one who'd been bleeding through a bond no one else could feel.

Azriel moved closer to her, caressing her hand with his fingertips. "Elain, he's your mate, he-"

"I don't care, I didn't choose him," she turned her gaze to Lucien. "I didn't choose you, Lucien. I don't want you." He thought of all the nights he'd lain awake feeling her sadness as his own, and wondered, distantly, if she'd ever once felt the inverse.

He didn't answer for a moment before murmuring, "I didn't choose you either, Elain. I didn't ask to-"

"Go!"

Suddenly, as if he'd regained his senses, he raised his head, running a hand through his red hair. He picked up his dagger and turned on his heel, walking purposefully. In the corridor, he passed Feyre, Rhysand at her heels, who had been drawn by the shouts.

"What-"

"I resign," Lucien declared, his tone calm, far too calm. Cold, far too cold. The corridor was cold against his bare feet, the Night Court silent in that deep hour when even Velaris seemed to be holding its breath.

"What, but-"

"Feyre, I said 'I resign.' Find yourself another emissary."

Lucien entered his room. He grabbed his leather bag, in which he carried the few belongings he truly cared about, and placed it on his bed. Inside, he put the book that had been on the bedside table, an old copy Tilly had lent him before leaving, and which he had jealously guarded. He also placed the bottle of perfume that smelled of tarragon and morning dew, which he had worn ever since he discovered it in a small shop in Greenwood while looking for a birthday present for Tam. His razor, and the few clothes in the wardrobe. Somewhere below, the city's lights still glittered through the window at the end of the hall, indifferent to what was happening inside it.

When he turned around, Rhysand was leaning against the doorframe. His expression was almost unreadable, but Lucien didn't need to know what he was thinking to understand that he was unhappy with the situation.

"Lucien, whatever happened with Elain, I'm sure it can be discussed."

Lucien ignored him and left the room. In the corridor, Feyre held Nyx in her arms, the little boy having clearly been awakened by the commotion. Beside her, Elain, an indescribable expression on her face, held Azriel's hand tightly, as if afraid he would be taken from her. The master spy, for his part, stared at the floor, as if ashamed of having been caught red-handed.

"Where are you going?" Feyre asked, her tone almost too gentle to be honest.

"I'm leaving, I told you, I'm resigning."

"But you can't! We're your friends, your family, Elain is your-"

Lucien raised his hand, interrupting her. "Elain?" he asked to get her attention. "You want me to leave?"

The young fae's eyes fell upon him, and for a heart-wrenching moment, Lucien thought she hesitated. But there was no hesitation in her tone when she answered in the affirmative.

He set his bag down, mechanically adjusting his jacket sleeve before apologizing. "This is going to hurt."

She looked at him, lost in incomprehension, as he placed his hand on his heart.

"I, Lucien Vanserra," he began, "renounce the bond of blood, magic, and love that ties me to Elain Archeron. I reject all attachments to her, whatever their nature, and I renounce, before the Cauldron, the Mother, and the Gods, any further relationship with her."

He had barely spoken when a pain shot through his heart. He gritted his teeth, and, looking up at Elain, he understood that she felt the same. The pain of a bond breaking, tearing, shattering. He exhaled deeply, the pain coursing through him temporarily blinding him, making white stars dance before him. He felt as if his agony would make him lose consciousness, but his will was stronger, and, as Elain wept in pain, clinging to Azriel, he descended the marble stairs.

Rhysand ran after him as he pushed open the door, but no sooner had Lucien crossed the threshold than he winnowed far away, as far as possible from the source of all his pain, to a place where he could forget he was hurting.

A few weeks later - Somewhere off the coast (Spring Court)

It was a goddess day. All the important things in her life happened on a goddess day. She was born on a goddess day, and subsequently, her mother died on a goddess day.

On a goddess day, a week later, her grandfather killed her other grandfather and her father became High Lord, and subsequently, she became Princess.

On a goddess day, she was woken in the middle of the night by her father and shipped off to the continent, practically by force. And on a goddess day, fifty-five years later, she was returning. 

Land was in sight. Home was in sight. Her home. 

Fifty-five years was long enough to learn a new language, bury a continent's worth of grief, and still wake some mornings reaching for a home that wasn't there. She had stopped counting the goddess days somewhere around year twenty. It hadn't helped.

She breathed deeply, the sea spray that had seeped inside filling her lungs, the unmistakable magic of her Court vibrating beneath her fingernails, in the hollows of her palms. In the canvas satchel on the bed, she had packed all her belongings that she had managed to scatter. A week-long crossing was a long time, and the captain had been kind enough to let her keep her cabin, so she had made it her refuge, at least for a while.

The wood of the ship groaned beneath her boots, the same way it had groaned every morning for seven days, a sound she'd already grown tired of.

The small bag, worn by time, contained everything she had taken with her when she left Greenwood decades before: the dagger her uncle Lucien had given her when her father had named her General of the Spring Court Armies, her late mother's engraved silver comb, her favorite book, a silly adventure novel she knew by heart, and a toiletry kit that had needed replacing over the years.

She closed the flap and put on her canvas uniform jacket, which she too had taken with her the night she fled. Magic had protected the fabric, making it look brand new, freshly sewn by a tailor. The rank insignia on her military jacket was still visible, gold on the dark green lapel, but she no longer wore it as she used to. She had grown accustomed to simply wearing it open, a far cry from the military rigor she had once imposed upon herself.

She was a General without an army, after all. A princess without a land. An exile without a home.

Without giving it much thought, she sheathed the sword she had sharpened the previous evening and left the cabin, the weight of the weapon she had carried for so long settling her thoughts.

The smell of salt and sea grew stronger on the deck, and the sun shone with an almost blinding light. Gulls wheeled overhead, their cries sharper than she remembered Spring's gulls sounding, or maybe she'd simply forgotten.

She approached the railing, against which Jojo was leaning. Old Jojo. If he had been human, he would have looked to be around sixty. But he wasn't, which implied that his age must be measured in tens of centuries. Long enough to have been the protector of the Spring family for three generations. He had protected her grandfather, then his sons, especially the youngest, and now he was protecting her. For 200 years. Jojo had a way of saying nothing that somehow said everything; this silence, she knew, meant he agreed with her more than he wanted to admit. He'd taught her to hold a sword before she could properly walk, and some nights she still heard his voice correcting her stance.

She leaned against the railing. The horizon had been empty for so long that the dark smudge of land felt almost unreal, like something she might blink and lose.

"Happy to be home, old man?"

He grimaced. "Well? What's the plan? We dock and you winnow to Greenwood, pup?"

"Why, are you in a hurry to get home?"

"Aren't you?"

"I was thinking we could take some horses and ride to Greenwood instead."

Jojo sighed, making it clear that he wasn't thrilled about the idea.

"It'll take at least a week."

She shrugged. More than that, probably. She wanted to stop everywhere. Talk to everyone. She'd missed home. She'd missed Spring. She wanted to see, to understand what she'd missed, what was missing from the reports Kat, her father's spy-mistress, had been sending her to keep her informed of the situation since her father had stopped doing so himself. 

"Two weeks, maybe," she finally said, before adding, faced with Jojo's dark glare, "We won't be sleeping under the stars, I promise. I'm sure we can get invited by all the nobles along the way. Or to any inn." Two hours. Two weeks. Fifty-five years. Time had stopped meaning a thing to her a long time ago.

He bit his lip, staring at the horizon.

"Spring may not be what we remember, pup. Your father may not be what we remember. So much has happened; it changes a male. It changes people."

She didn't answer, watching the approaching land, pondering Jojo's words. She unconsciously gritted her teeth. She knew everything. She had read the reports: about Amarantha, about the war, about Feyre Cursebreaker, about her uncle Lucien. She had read her father's letters, which had been infrequent under Amarantha, then frequent when he was happy to be about to get married, and when he stopped writing altogether. She had read Kat's missives, the acerbic comments she had added in red ink to the spy reports she sent her, the sarcastic remarks. 

Kat had never been one to mince words, but it had gotten worse since her father had withdrawn into himself.

"Princess Tilia? Your Highness, we should be docking in less than two hours," a sailor told her, bowing to her. She nodded, thanking him with a gesture, then smiled at Jojo.

"Time to get back on track, soldier."

"Yes, General."

[alexof90s]

Elucien fanfic - Once again I forget title

Does anybody remember fanfic when Elucien or Lucien himself took Feyre and Rhysand to show them Spring village ruined by Hybern to show her what Feyre actions has caused?

Feyre was ofcourse defensive, but for Cauldron I can;t recall the title?

HELP

[alexof90s]

Tamlin/Briar Fic title needed

Looong time I read fic, can't remember the chapter count, but Elain with Vvianne or just Vivianne? were kinda bashing Tamlin during tea a tete and Briar has spoken up to shut them up that "Tamlin saved her like and without him they would die in War"

Did that light a spark of knowledge for anybody?

[alexof90s]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

ULTIMATE EVIL RHYSAND.

Get your cat or dog or tissues and wine

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Explicit

[lady-of-oorid]

Like babe, no. He isn't worried for a reason. There is no way any two Illyrians, short of Rhysand himself, is going to touch a High Lord. That's just laughable.

[alexof90s]

Not to mention that Vanserras and Tarquin are wielders of two deadliest nature power: FIRE(from Firestorm,burning to ash,blood boiling, wing burning etc) to Summer- Tsunamy, drowing on dry land,or literally draining water from sb bodys- 100% of water?.

Tamlin power revolves around changes, for sure it must be more than wing and shifting. He is connected to eart- rust, body disfiguration, roots can literally bury somebody downs.

Do not start with me on Thesan and Helion - those dude powers for sure can turn to aggresive ones.

Kallias is ice wielder - lots of damage to land and sb bodies.

Illyrians have a siphons that can be cleaved or just destroyed and Wing who can be easy burned down.

They are not the deadliest folk there. THESAN IS.

Thesan as healer can mend and heal skin and organs ,but for sure he can unmend ,put sickness or similar? Somehow he had to keep the reign in and rule a Winged Army.

[pinkfuneral7]

One of the biggest problems of this fandom (and society in general) is thinking in absolute and forgetting the multiple things can be true at once.

The Valkyries can have a focus in the next book AND Elain can still have her story too (even if it’s not in the next book).

The books can be about the sisters AND other strong female characters like Gwyn, Emerie and Mor.

Fans can be excited for Gwynriel AND be excited to see more about Nesta and Emerie.

People can love Feyre AND Nesta AND Elain

People can be excited to read more about the Valkyries AND be disappointed if Elain and Lucien’s story is pushed to the last book.

Let’s remember this going into the title announcements and remember fandom is supposed to be fun!

[alexof90s]

I just need Eris, other females than sisters and IC <Cresseida,Nuan, Vivianne?>, more Illyrian issue, and some Elucien bond resolution, even if I am not exactly Elucien/Elrierl it just hurt from even reading the inconculsion.

#givemeris

[goodladchompher]

Chapter 9: Propaganda

Read it here on AO3

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Varian discover what his cousin and Tamlin has been doing to change the perception of the night court. Elain regrets confronting Lucien on her visions. Rhysand is enraged at the news and confronts Tarquin demanding for it to stop but fails. Shel reminds Tamlin of his effects and why she did what she did.

Author's note: In part 1, I foreshadowed this by hinting that Tamlin was sending satyr and nymph bands out all over the place. In earlier chapters of part 2 tamlin and Tarquin makes a deal for this.

Most of the headlines are Tamlin's idea but a few of them are Tarquin's. The two are rubbing off on each other.

Summer time had passed somewhat peacefully and autumn had arrived once more to Summer court's land, not that it would change much in the court of raging seas and warm winds. Varian had been busy these past season from training the summer court navy, dealing with nobles when Tarquin couldn't, dates with Amren and so much more he didn't realise summer had ended until he saw an increase of people heading to Autumn court to join the fire night.

Walking through the streets of the common folk's territory like usual, Varian took notice that sometimes there were performers usually from spring that would entertain the people for coin. 

He hadn't realised it before but those performers would either sing praises of the brave summer folk who gave up their lives to protect others during Hybern's invasion or tell tales of a wicked witch from the north who betrayed her saviour and brought destruction to the land.

It was only when he saw a puppet show of the tale did he realise the witch was Feyre Archeron. He didn't outright ban them but he told the guards to push them out of court faster.

Nothing however could prepare him for what he noticed at the news stand.

News papers were a relatively new, about a few hundred years old and had become wide spread with many news publications using summer court merchants to spread their news all over. Varian had never went to the news stand himself since he had servants to fetch him papers from only certain publishing houses that cater to the interest of nobles but what he saw made his blood run cold.

There were maybe several publications of different news papers slandering the night court. His eyes scanned every front page, these were news papers meant for commoners so he never bothered but with this much hate, he could only assume this was a way to push ideals into the masses.

Modern slavery in night court. Interview with a night court fae. Stop buying from the night court. Night court cause of high food prices? Rhysand's mysterious history of dead lovers. Feyre Archeron the vile human turned fae. The victims speak against the rulers. Dawn and day facing economic troubles. Rhysand and Feyre involved in other kingdom's affairs. Azriel shadowsinger the torturer. Rejoice that lord of bloodshed was flightless.

"I demand you to stop selling these now!" Varian slammed his fist into the news stand frightening the seller as steam puffed from his body.

The lesser fae was almost melting into a puddle but what he held made Varian's eye bulge out. The fae held today's news paper the front page was too scandalous even for peasants.

FUCK-

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" Rhysand shouted his voice shaking the house of wind and causing Nyx to cry. 

Feyre tried to calm down her son while her mate paced around in the main hall reading the news paper in front of him, gripping it so tightly until it tore.

"Rhys, what is it?" Feyre asked as she rocked Nyx trying to get him back to sleep. She looked tired maybe even lighter compared to Rhys who was healthy.

"Feyre Archeron, Victim or seductress. Varian was serious saying we should read this." Amren read loudly with a smirk before chugging an entire glass of red liquid.

"There is no denying that the once human girl had lived a hard life but to reach where she is now, one must question was it luck or skill. One could consider her a victim of the cruel high lord who once paraded her around as his whore, an unwilling victim but it appears that victim might be a mask." Mor read and her eyes widened as the papers showed moving pictures of Feyre dancing with Tamlin, seducing Lucien in spring, her public appearance in Hewn city with Rhysand and finally a picture of her with Tarquin. "It appears that the high lady seduced maybe bedded these males to slowly rise the rank. From fiance of a lord to a high lady and even now she's still aiming higher by cuckoldig her mate as she tried to get close to Summer's high lord but it was ruined due to Hybern's attack-" Mor continued to read but stopped when the news paper suddenly combusted into flames.

Feyre's face was red from embarrassment while Rhysand seethed with anger, "Azriel! Get in here now!" He ordered.

In seconds the shadows on the floor before Azriel slowly rose from it already kneeling awaiting orders.

"Find whoever wrote this, kill them, threaten them, break their fingers or whatever I do not care. Stop anymore of these, that's an order!" Rhysand commanded as shadows swirled around him uncontrollably mirroring his rage. His breathing laboured and he turned to Mor.

"Get a fucking meeting set up with me and Tarquin, I won't stand for this insult towards me or my mate," the high lord ordered before walking out. Feyre followed him wanting to calm her mate despite being busy with a fussy baby.

Unknown to Rhysand however these type of news papers had been spreading through out pyrinthia and the fae realms. Had he look closer maybe he'd realise just how much the hate had festered before it became too much.

Back in spring court, the citizens were told the tales of those trapped in the mines who wish to see the night sky, the song of widows from Hewn city and the many news that were passed to them through the news papers from summer court. Slowly their hatred towards the night court slowly morphed into hatred towards the cruel nobles especially the court's rulers, Rhysand and Feyre. 

The same happened in Hewn city. Since Beron took over spring's trades with supervision, the cavern cities managed to receive high protein food enough to keep them full but barely gave them enough energy. Strong enough to live but not enough to fight back.

The people of hewn city especially the lower levels had such a low literacy level that many lesser fae could not read. Yet every paper wrapper found its use, as the poor bought wrapped food, the images on the wrapper would move using a glamour spell, to sow bravery in the heart of those who watch it. To yearn more than a life trapped in endless caves but to have freedom. Change was brewing and it began when Tamlin sent out the spring performers outside once more, after all a great performance can inspire even the most silent of fae.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Quiet. For the first time in years Elain's mind was quiet. Rhysand struggled to read her mind since she awakened her gift, her thoughts passed too quick and too much happened for him to know which were her thoughts or whispers of time. After her latest vision, it seemed everything was quiet. Her gift wasn't gone but any time she tried she would repeat the same thing. Piles of bones as far as the eyes could see and an ominous hum in the air. 

She had adapted to the change smoothly for the most part, one could even claim she was glad to be rid of countless possibilities that once flooded her brain.

Lucien has been the only constant in her improvement. The fawn had became quiet since her last vision predicting the end of high lords. The first week she barely ate or left her room, she would gaze at the window until Lucien brought her food from the human lands. Lucien also brought Nesta some dresses and Feyre some paint from the human lands. He would keep close, rarely talking aside from the usual compliments. Elain had started to leave her room more often, gardening again and thankfully wasn't a nuisance to Rhysand. Feyre would talk to her from time to time, getting her to spend time or baby sit Nyx while Nesta kept her distance watching her from afar.

Lucien had heard them whispering amongst themselves of sending her to train like Nesta or maybe forcing her to the library had she been difficult hence why he took action. He couldn't allow her to be hurt that way.

The autumn male wasn't always at the night court, he would be there a day at most before disappearing for days. He was juggling several task ranging from helping Vassa rule, negotiating with the human villages below the wall, meeting up with nobles to keep supply running into the night court and he was the one who applied for Cassian's wing replacement at Dawn to try get Nesta's hopes up. He doubt however that the engineers would build it so quickly.

In his visits, anger would build up in Elain's heart. She wasn't sure when it began, maybe when she kept being pestered by visions of the male with Jesminda or maybe it started when she realised he wasn't hers. Not fuly at least. She spent her days watching the moments of joy between her sister and their mates, she thought she would have it but that moment didn't came. Instead her moments with him while romantic always had a lingering feeling of sadness in them. Elain was confused once but from her visions, she was sure that feeling was reluctance or guilt because Lucien had a mate, one he loved dearly and Elain wasn't her. From summer to autumn that anger continued to rise.

Today was the one that broke the camel's back.

Elain was enjoying her time in the garden, watching the setting sun seating at one of the quartz chairs there. She wasn't useful anymore so she had no worries except staying out of trouble. The peace shattered when she felt a tug close to her lower rib.

Elain had looked to her side and noticed Lucien walking up the steps of the house of wind but rather than walking straight ahead the male took a detour heading towards her. He was charming in every sense of the word, immaculately dressed like always but this time he was carrying a package likely for her. 

People usually liked receiving presents and Elain was even thought to not reject them as that would be rude but she had enough.

"Can you stop it." She blurts out more sharper than intended.

Her voice startled the male and stopped him in his tracks, "I...I didn't mean to-"

"To what? Shower me with gifts? Flirt with me?" Elain interrupted before standing up stomping towards him. Months of build up anger spilling out refusing to be kept. "You can stop all this at once! You don't need to keep me company or save me or fight for me when you don't even want me. I know you already have another mate, one you actually love... so just stop it. I'm sure Rhysand can break this bond or something." She raised her voice at the male but became more unsure of herself before stepping back hugging her arms close to her body, making herself seem small.

Anger was ugly. That's what her mother taught her. Don't raise your voice at suitors or you'll end up a spinster. Elain followed those orders but sometimes it's too much. Why couldn't she have happiness even after everything.

"I... I don't have another mate... but if you want me to leave I'll do it." Lucien staggered back when Elain came to close. He was confused for a moment but was resigned that Elain didn't want him.

Anger spark in her stomach again, she look insulted as if Lucien didn't know what she was talking about, "do not take me for a fool! My curse- my my visions showed me your mate, Jesminda. I saw how you both look at each other, I -I  I saw the thread... that mating bond you have with her. In fact I'm enraged for her, how dare you do what you're doing as if you do not have a mate! As if she's-"

"Dead. Jesminda is dead." Lucien deadpanned.

Silence washed over the scene as the last of the sun's light faded welcoming the night. A few of the magical flowers started to glow yellow illuminating the garden softly. 

Elain and Lucien stood eye to eye, he was resigned but a thousand thoughts ran through Elain's head. Everything began to click in place, the sadness she felt in the bond from Lucien, why Lucien had both of his eyes in her vision, why he looked younger and less scarred. She was seeing the past and she didn't even know.

"What?" She barely mumbled the words.

Lucien looked up the sky and closed his eyes before exhaling as if bracing herself for the worst. "She died... 287 years ago. Beron thought she was a fling but after decades together he couldn't bare his youngest with a fae below his station. He... my brothers tortured her until she passed. I don't even know where she's buried." He confessed his russet eye becoming teary.

Elain wasn't sure what to say. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact she saw Lucien's past and she had been wrong for months.

Lucien forced a smile, "I know where I'm not wanted... good bye Elain." He muttered weakly feeling as if his heart was being torn open again, "I...thank you. I always wondered if she was my...now I know." He bowed at Elain before turning around and walking away.

Elain could have reached forward. To stop him. To say anything. To do something but she didn't. That's not who she, she was polite, she'd listen then react, never to act first.

As Lucien moved further and further apart Elain felt the bond began to stretch like a thread being pulled. It stung her chest as the bond fought to stay connected, to say it wasn't a mistake. To say they belonged.

"Wait!" Elain raised her hand reaching for Lucien but it was too late. He had winnowed away and the bond broke. She expected to feel freedom before this, to feel like herself but that's not what happened. She wished to be rid of it yet she felt like a piece of herself was gone but Lucien was still alive. She had forgotten what loneliness felt like, what it meant to only have one beating heart instead of two. She couldn't feel him, only the gaping hole she had dugged herself into.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

News of Rhysand and Feyre's visit to the summer court was not well received at all. It would have been wise if both of them had just winnowed but they chose to make a spectacle flying in a black carriage carried by a gargoyle and landing in front of Adriata Palace. They weren't greeted by performers or nobles instead masses behind palace gates screaming at them to leave, the guards had to erect water walls to protect them from trash being thrown at them.

Cressida and Varian welcomed them inside, the princess was indifferent but the Prince was more friendly. A top of the stairs of the main hall was Tarquin who seemed to be wearing his most extravagant clothing and jewelry he had.

The young high fae's white hair was braided into dreads tied together with pearls, opals and gold. He wore a large cloth that appeared like real moving waves that draped over his right shoulder and extended to the rest of his body with a golden belt embedded with blue diamonds keeping it in place. He looked down at them but he was starring daggers at Feyre.

"Why are you wearing that?" Was the first thing Tarquin said instead of greeting the rulers of the night court.

Rhysand wore his usual black attire but adorned with blue gems but Feyre was more different, she was wearing a dark blue dress with a flowy skirt with the edge of the skirt sparkling like star dust. Tarquin however was more focused on Feyre's head wear, she didn't wear night's crown but had wrapped a moldable fabric around her head like most of the summer court nobles would do with the back being a large circle mimicking a halo. It was more extravagant however with blue gems tied with it.

"You seem to forget your manners, Lord Tarquin. You didn't even greet us." Rhysand sneered.

"We wanted to show respect to your culture and court, that's why we're dressed in your colours and wearing this," Feyre explained herself and gestured to the head wear.

Tarquin narrowed his eyes at her while his mouth twisted to one side as he walked down the stairs, "you likely had one of your seamstress make it, instead of hiring a summer fae."

"Is there a problem or do you just want to waste time?" Rhysand questioned stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Cousin they mean no disrespect-" Varian tried only to be silenced by Tarquin's raised hand. The high lord was angry and Rhysand couldn't figure it out, everyone's mind in that room was silenced or jumbled as if everyone had taken a precaution against his daemati. As if he was someone who couldn't be trusted at all. He felt disrespected by all this.

"That head wear. Take it off." Tarquin ordered coldly as he stood at the edge of the stair case.

"Pardon?" Feyre stepped back hand on her chest as in disgust as if the summer fae had insulted her new born.

"You've lost your marbles. She is high lady and has no need to listen to you, you don't own her." Rhysand snarled as shadows curled around him like hungry beast.

"No but she is a ruler. One that clearly doesn't care for others culture as she claimed, if she actually studied she would know that head wear style is sacred to the spiritual practitioners of this court. The head wear can only be worn by those who had poured centuries of their life learning the secrets of the ocean and caring for it and you Feyre Archeron do not deserve it when you were the one who help spill my peoples blood into the seas." Tarquin scolded and stepped closer his voice carrying authority much older than himself.

"Be nice cousin, surely the high lady has been studying other important topics in her free time and not lazying around painting all day like any common consort of a lord. After all she is high lady and will not jeopardise this meeting." Cressida coaxed with a practiced smile. 

Feyre's cheek heated up from embarrassment before she slowly grabbed the head wear and took it off. She couldn't bare to look at the noble summer faes, not when they all looked at her with disappointment. "I'm sorry.." She mumbled.

You have nothing to apologise for. Rhysand's words sneaked into Feyre's mind assuring her despite her mind shields.

"Let's just get this over with." Rhysand snapped and grabbed the head wear making it disappear before wrapping an arm around his mate. He walkes beside Feyre while glaring at Tarquin who was still indifferent.

Later the rulers gathered in a small meeting room with turquoise walls with a glass floor showing the waves beneath them. They sat on chairs of bronze embedded with blue gems with a circular table between Tarquin and the two.

"Since all forms of pleasantries are unnecessary, we demand you stop whoever is publishing this slander." Rhysand began and threw the news papers to the table. Most of it were just the slanders that's been send out since last spring but the one that made the summer lord's lisp turn upward was the Feyre's questioning of being a seductress.

"Eiether you're brave or stupid for marching into here and demanding something of me without offering anything, then again you two aren't known for being politically savvy." Tarquin replied unimpressed. "You two wouldn't even be here if it weren't for my cousin's pleas. Act better." He warned.

"What do you want?" Feyre asked curtly letting Rhys calm himself. They couldn't afford a mistake here.

Tarquin made no effort to hide his annoyance, he instead snapped his fingers and an image of a familiar book was glamoured. "The book of breathing and compensation for the damages as well as lives lost for both spring and summer court," he demanded. 

Rhysand didn't need his daemati to see how angered the high lord of summer was but he wasn't sure if it was for his people or because of his cousin's loyalty. He and Feyre shared a look, the book was gone and further they couldn't compensate spring without becoming poor themselves.

"You're asking too much from us. We'll agree on compensating the damages and the lives lost of summer court alone... as for the book. It's no longer in our possession." Rhys bargained trying to meet in the middle. Now that he had time to think he had to make sure the meeting was a success. To stop the war and get summer to ally or betray Tamlin maybe help take down Beron if possible.

"What do you mean it's not within your possession?!  You stole a priceless artifact during war and now it's just...gone?!" Tarquin interrogated his voice raised from disbelief.

"It was... it went missing when we tried to use to fix the cauldron. It wasn't our fault." Feyre excused herself.

"Wasn't your fault? All of this is both of your faults!" Tarquin snapped as dark clouds gathered outside.

"Careful how you speak to my high lady." Rhysand snarled wings expanding to make himself look larger.

"Or what? You'll attack me? You'll wage war? Go ahead..." Tarquin goaded unafraid as he leaned back as the waves beneath them raged on. "All this time us high lord's were afraid of going against you. The night court has two armies so large it's force is enough to overwhelm one or maybe two courts alone. Our nobles were deep in your pockets chasing your gems and ores...now we don't. The seasonal courts aren't afraid of you... none of us are." He expressed coldly without breaking eye contact with Rhysand.

"You shpuld be. My sister predicted that if war starts there will be no victors, that koschei the deathless a powerful force from the eastern fae realms will destroy us all." Feyre informed her tone sharp.

Shadows swirled around Rhysand as he glared, "we are trying to save Pyrinthia the world even. This is your chance to make things right. Tamlin will drag your court down but if you join us, you'll be hailed as a hero."

"Oh wow your sister make a prediction? I'm sure it's true expecially coming from the two faced high lady herself." Tarquin mocked in a squeaky voice clearly showing his age before he pointed to Rhysand, "be a saviour? I'm not an idiot. You claimed to be saviours but how many lives were lost because of you both! If this is saving then consider me your enemy. Now get the hell out of my court." He ordered eyes flashing a deep blue as the palace shook from being hit by a large wave.

"You're making a mistake." Rhysand state as he stood up.

"Don't think you're a saviour, hypocrite. If you were serious about saving Pyrinthia you'd accept any and all punishment for the crimes you both committed against the people but you don't. That tells us enough." Tarquin countered as he trailed after them making sure both actually walked out of Adriatta palace.

"Farewell, Tarquin." Rhysand spoke annoyed.

"Try not to steal anything else," he said to them both when they finally stepped out of the palace ground and winnowed away. Tarquin needed a vacation but unknown to him Cressida had sent a letter to spring while Varian was preoccupied in trying to calm the masses who only knew of the meeting because she leaked the info.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"Steady...steady. Be ready everyone! The lightning must hit the almendro tree if we want to harness it for the spell!" Tamlin informed stand beside a plump tree with arms raised to the sky as dark clouds gathered and lighting crackled above. A few of the researcher were ready as the thunder got louder and louder each time.

"Now!" Tamlin shouted and swung his arms down towards as lighting striked the tree but due to his closeness he was hit as well.

The lighting harvest was a good test run but problems for today didn't seem to end. After being striked Tamlin had returned back to the manor to clean up but took a detour to his study since Shel wanted to meet. 

"YOU DID WHAT?!" The high lord roared from the room causing the hanging plants in the manor to swing and some even falling.

Shel stood in the room hands holding themselves as she faced Tamlin, "my lord... I know this is a serious offence... I however cannot focus when you look like that."

"This is a serious matter!" Tamlin countered but most of his shier was burnt off and his braids were undone due to the impact. One thing he learnt today was that static hair causes hair to stand all over hence why he looked like he had replaced his golden hair with a large frizzy yellow ball that occasionally spark electric.

"Why would you even do this... make a deal with Lucien? Especially considering you hold the mirror of everywhere and the lock to atraxia's vault." Tamlin huffed and summoned a comb to try fix his hair. The moment he tried it broke and Shel sniffled a laugh.

Shel took a breath despite not having lungs, "do you ever wonder what would happen if you were killed? You might welcome death with open arms but what about your people?" She asked as she placed a book down filled with known relatives from Tamlin's bloodline. It was filled with pictures, names, where they were, their beliefs and a short description of their personality.

Tamlin seemed confused for a moment before sighing, "the magic will choose who it chooses. We cannot control it and I'm sure it'll choose someone better."

Thorns grew out of Shel's body, "do you even hear yourself?" She replied agitated. "If you were to die tomorrow the land would weep. Your people would feel it in their hearts and would rage, they wouldn't wait, they wouldn't care for the new high lord because they want blood. They will rally anyone and everyone just to go to war with the night court who'll they'll blame. Why? Because they love you!" Shel raised her voiced and slammed her trunk like fist into the table smashing it to pieces.

Shel looked at the damaged she caused while Tamlin looked at the young fae he pushed to her brink. She shouldn't be thinking of this at such a young age.

"If you die tomorrow... our people will go to war because they love you as you love them. The next high lord could be better or they could be worst... so no I won't stop. I am taking precautions because you can't seem to fathom that someone horrible could become the next high lord. Someone who will undo everything good you have done to spring so hate me for it if you must but I will always. Always choose spring court." Shel continued confidently.

"I don't hate you for this... not when I have the full truth," Tamlin responded softly and reached out to hold the hybrid's hand but stopped himself before he could. "You know what Lucien will ask of me, and you know that the rulers of night won't accept it." He reminded.

Shel picked up the book then looked at the high lord, "I know... but if there's even a chance to resolve this without going to war. Something you do not want then I'll take it because I know you won't forgive yourself if any of our poeppe died."

Tamlin sighed, "alright... I agree to it. Just....please take care of yourself. Go on break from time to time, enjoy being a dryad and not just spring's advisor."

"I will...you should do the same as well ,your lord ship. I'll tell the brownies to prepare a bath for you and fix...that." Shel agreed and gestured to the fuzzy yellow ball that was Tamlin's hair.

Tamlin sighed, "Thank you. Please don't remind me my hair beautiful hair is gone." Shel nodded and left the room finally allowing Tamlin to use his magic to fix the table and slouch in his chair to ponder. He didn't want to see Lucien again so soon, he felt bad what happened before and he didn't want his anger to take control again. He couldn't do that to him.

End note: I'm glad someone remember that Shel represents Tamlin's relationship to the land.

Shel isn't bad but yeah maybe I added the bottom part to save her. She's protective of spring.

Tag list: @litteraslegit @reblogandlikes @the-anonymous-unikitty @thefatesofspring @starscreambbymama @alexof90s @darkasylumvolcano @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

[alexof90s]

Tarquin fanfic and Feyre critical

Hello!

I saw on Reddit that we have Tarquin 2-shot Feyre critical fanfic on Tumblr.

Can somebody please share if you know this fic or recommend something similar for Tarquin not being so kind as in canon?

[kikithetortoiseshellcat]

So….Can anyone recommend Elucien fanfics?? These are my preferences:

- Long chapters

- I’m not into Modern AUs or similar. I prefer sticking to the book’s context and story.

- Obviously, sassy Lucien.

- Angsty (optional)

I’m a Gwynriel but I’ve always liked the idea of Elucien (azriel and elain made me cringe on the previous books lol). Now, with the upcoming realise I feel it’s the perfect moment to get closer to Elucien, which will definitely be the next couple (prayers).

:D

[zenkindoflove]

It seems like you are interested in long, multichapter fics in the canon verse so I'll restrict my recs to just those for simplicity. But there is also a ton of amazing one shots or shorter fics (less than 5 chapters) as well as great WIPs that I can share if you would like those too!

@crazy-ache is amazing and has a TON of amazing Elucien fics. But for completed multichapter fics I highly recommend ACOWAR (Elucien's Version) for an amazing rewrite of ACOWAR focused on Elucien and Animal Instincts for some fun, heartfelt crackfic.

@gooseyjossip has an excellent fic The Softness of Flames. It's a long saga that explores the concept of what if the Cauldron took Elain's heart.

@itsblobross has a fun, slow burn fic set immediately after ACOSF where Elain and Lucien explore all the courts together called The Scenic Route.

[alexof90s]

Call me what you want, Dream of Spring,

[alexof90s]

Just wanted to let you know I finished your Eris mate vs. Inner Circle fic! I’m hoping to have it edited and posted tomorrow 😊

oh yessss:)))

[alexof90s]

My Dragon

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas

In a court where the ones you trust the most can turn their back on you, Eris Vanserra is careful to keep this secret from everyone. Even his mother. However, when Hybern arrives and his father is still unable to see reason, Eris decides that it is the time to reveal it to all, regardless of the consequences.

[alexof90s]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I cried<3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

It had been a long day and all Helion was looking forward to was laying in bed with his mate for the rest of the night, allowing for her presence and comfort to lull him to sleep. Those plans changed when he entered his bedchamber and found his darling, Aluriea with one of her boys. 

[alexof90s]

Azris missing fic?

Does anyone remember very old fic when IC and other Courts went to some mascarade ball and Azris get bonky but Azriel didnt know he was bonking Eris and something happened during the ball so Eris had to take off the mask and Azriel accused him of using him?

I can't recall the title ,it wasn't probably finished ,Ao3 perhaps.