Story time

Hello! This is my fanfiction sideblog. My ask box is open! Likes and follows will be from my main blog, consultinghuntresshasthetardis.

[mirandasidefics]

Main Master List

Here is a list of links to all my Ao3 stories and SJMverse masterlists. My fics are all female reader inserts.

Requests are: CLOSED. (I'm so behind on these, but they are being worked on).

SJMVERSE

ACOTAR Masterlist

Crescent City Masterlist

Throne of Glass Masterlist

NON-SJM Fandoms

Ao3 Works- aconsultinghuntress26

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Black Butler

*My Immortal- Sebastian Michaelis x Reader

Mystic Messenger

*What I Want to Tell You- V x Reader

[mirandasidefics]

Looking forward to your update!

Thank you! I know it has been a while since my last update. I just finished my first year of graduate school, so I have more time to focus and write. I hope that I will be able to post on the following schedule for the remainder of 2026:

Chapter 19- May 27th

Chapter 20-August 1st

Chapter 21- October 13th

Chapter 22-December 30th

These dates are based on school related breaks.

[mirandasidefics]

I have a question for you.

What is Eris Vanserra's opnion on reader? May i know how is he like

Hello!

As of right now, Eris' only interaction with Reader was during the High Lords meeting. Even then, he didn't have any direct contact with her but did secretly enjoy watching her talk back to Beron. His initial impression is that he's intrigued by her, and even more intrigued by how the three main love interests (Lucien, Azriel, and Ruhn) are all so protective of her.

There will be more interactions between Reader and Eris in the upcoming chapters where his opinion on her will become more noticeable.

[mirandasidefics]

Rhysand doin this and that

If reader was manipulative, the entire IC would be in panic

Hello! I do think that if Reader was capable of malicious manipulation that most members of the IC would be much more cautious of her. In fact, Mor and Azriel would probably be the most cautious right after Rhysand.

But as I mentioned in a previous post, all of her decisions to withhold certain information is based on self-preservation. If she feels the information would get her killed or placed back in a cell, she will keep it to herself until it becomes useful and seen more as a "positive" or "brand new" revelation.

[mirandasidefics]

OOO what if its a reader who is strategic and manipulative? But not in a way of how they will do everything wrong but rather they're morally flawed and they have lines they wouldnt cross. Will they somehow fool? Will they somehow catch up and be able to play games against rhysand and the IC?

Hello! I could have sworn that I had answered this, but it looks like it went into the tumblr void.

I personally do not really see Reader as someone that is manipulative with any malicious intent. She is strategic and definitely withholds information, but in her mind, it is to keep herself alive. Her withholding of certain information is one of the things that Bryce has already called Reader out on during the scene where Reader went into the Prison and saw the chamber where the Harp had been kept (and where Bryce found and killed the weakened Asteri/Daglan). Despite Reader withholding information, she does eventually reveal what she knows or at least what she thinks she knows.

I don't really plan to have Reader be one that "fools" or "plays games" with the other characters. She is guarded and cautious, which guides her decisions on when to reveal information to be based in strategy meant to keep herself alive and out of a prison cell.

If I chose to have Reader be selfish and have malicious intentions as a base for her manipulations, it is possible that she would be able to be on an equal playing field with Rhysand, Eris, and Lucien (all of whom are depicted as being able to manipulate other's perspectives in some manner). This is mainly due to the fact that neither Rhys or Feyre are able to read or enter her mind. Ruhn is also unable to use his mind speaking abilities with her. So, she could theoretically use this to her advantage to somehow make plans that give her some type of advantage or leverage which would benefit her. I do believe that her limit would be related to Nyx. I do not see her ever being able to deliberately cause him any physical, emotional, or psychological harm.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 18

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: The revelation of the prophecy has you spiraling and the weight of your mortality is tested.

Word Count: 9.3 K

Warnings: Language (swearing), brief sexual themes, traumatic injury.

Author's Note: Hello all! I am back. I had to take a very small break to get some things done with changes at work and graduate school. I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter. I should be able to resume my planned schedule of every other month. So, Chapter 19 can be expected in early April 2026.

**If you had left a request to be added to the tag list on Chapter 16, tumblr ate it before I could actually add it to this post. Please comment on either this chapter or the Masterlist so I can make sure that I get everyone. Also, if your @ has changed since your original request, let me know as well so that I can actually tag you and the updates not go into the tumblr void. **

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @ronibartender for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 17 Next: Chapter 19

It had been two weeks since that meeting with the High Lords but Azriel’s mind still hadn’t been able to fully grasp how any of the information revealed was tied to (Y/N). He had followed Rhys’ instructions, meeting with Eris twice to gather whatever information he could find about Beron’s ongoing relationship with Koschei. So far that resulted in little to no information; neither Beron nor any of his personal advisors or guards had left the Autumn Court. However, that didn’t stop Rhysand from tightening the Night Court’s borders. Which in turn meant that (Y/N)’s trips to the Day Court had effectively ceased for the time being, much to Helion’s displeasure.  

Azriel could vividly remember the way the woman’s muscles tensed and tightened when the High Lord delivered the news to her. He had hoped that Rhys’ relationship with her would have eased into something…well, something akin to an understanding at the very least. He knew that any chance of them ever being friendly was unlikely. Azriel couldn’t fully blame him though, especially if Rhys’ belief of the Mother truly having a direct hand in her arrival to their world was somehow true. Azriel rubbed his temples, willing away the lingering headache that was sure to make this impromptu training session more difficult. 

The training ring smelled of oil and iron, but the glow of the late afternoon sun was accompanied by the faint dusting of vanilla as (Y/N) stood across from Azriel. The scrap of cloth she used to tie her hair into a braid fluttered slightly in the wind. Her stance was solid; evidence of her time spent with Cassian and the Valkyries nearly every morning. The wooden training dagger in her hand was held in the way Lucien taught her; he’d have to fix that. It was too far from her body, and even though Ruhn had shown her how to take a hit and keep breathing, it left some of her softer spots open to attack. Though he was impressed with how still she was. The kind of steadiness you only get from someone who’s been taught to expect pain and survive it. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, a habit he recently picked up as a way to remind himself to forget the time spent torturing her in that cell.  

“Hand up,” he said, and there was a carefulness in the order, as if he were asking permission rather than giving it. Her brows knitted as she lifted her empty hand. He sighed. He could tell she was tired, and her hold was still not quite right. It couldn’t be helped though; Nyx was a ball of boundless energy and practically demanded the woman’s undivided attention. 

He had to give her credit for the time and dedication she poured into his nephew. The woman wasn’t just simply keeping the young heir occupied with games, but also challenged his mind. He recalled one night she stayed at the River House late into the evening with a small telescope that Lucien had commissioned for her. Azriel could easily recall the minute motions of her hands as she turned dials and adjusted the scope in various directions. Nyx’ eyes wide with awe as she explained differences between the types of stars. If Azriel was honest, he was in equal awe of how she was able to convey the complex information into a manageable understanding for a child. Her kindness, patience, and intelligence merited equal treatment.    

“May I?” Azriel approached her slowly, hands pausing midair to gauge her comfort. With a slight nod of her head, he gently lifted her hand, placing it an inch higher on the hilt. He then guided her elbow, bending it to the slightest degree. The small corrections were not meant to flatten her rhythm but to make it cleaner. 

“Oh.” Her voice was soft, eyes lingering on his movements. It was only then he realized that he hadn’t worn the gloves Elain had gifted him a few solstices ago. He waited for her reaction, but it was as if she was already used to them. He then waited for his own shame to flood his senses as it so often did in regards to the burn scars; but it never came. He only felt the sting of memory from that cell. He looked towards her face to ensure his touch wasn’t setting off alarms within her. The setting sun shone fully on her, the soft glow revealing no trace of fear or discomfort in her expression. He had to bite the inside of his cheek again. She was beautiful, determined in learning this new skill. He was surprised when she asked him for pointers in wielding the dagger Lucien gave her as an early Winter Solstice gift. For so long it seemed that Azriel would be the only one to initiate contact, but this time, she sought him out. 

Azriel supposed it was an improvement, even if it was for practical reasons and not a more personal one. He didn’t know why that simple fact bothered him. Stepping back, he looked over her form once more. Once satisfied, he walked over to his side of the ring and picked up his own training dagger. 

“Let’s begin.” He kept his voice soft, softer than he would have if anyone else was around. He wondered if she even noticed. With a small nod of recognition, Azriel launched forward. She answered him with practiced motions; when he feinted, she didn’t freeze in surprise but slid into the gap with an accuracy that pleased and unsettled him in equal measure.

He pressed harder than he intended, testing timing and reach, watching for the moment a strike might truly land. She parried, stepped, and turned. They clipped wood on wood until, with a fluid shift of weight and a hook of the wrist, she pinned his blade to his chest. The contact was small and precise, the kind of thing Cassian would grin about later. Azriel felt it differently; a hot, immediate awareness that she could close a space he’d always kept for himself.

He moved to unbalance her, but his reflexes were a fraction too strong. She flailed, body falling towards the ground. He lunged, attempting to catch her but had failed to actually move his feet with the rest of his body, causing him to fall as well. His chest landed across hers; wood clattered away. For a second the ring dissolved into the narrow geography of their bodies.

Heat flared where his torso met hers, immediate and confusing. The faint salty scent of sweat at her temple mixed with the soft notes of vanilla that wafted upwards. The scent finding a home deep within his being. Her breath came up in a sharp, surprised hitch that pressed into his collarbone. His wings tightened against the expenses of his back like an animal pulled taut. His emotions swirled— guilt mixed with a shimmer of excitement. He found himself wanting to reach out, to brush the strand of hair that loosened from her braid. But he kept this confusing desire to himself as the vivid memories of hands that had hurt too willingly, of screams that still vibrated through his chest rose to the surface. The taste of metal filled his mouth as he bit down on his cheek again. He had practiced restraint until restraint became a habit. Yet the presence of her beneath him rewrote small rules he had thought were permanent.

He forced himself to feel the cold stone beneath his palm as it splayed to the ground just above her shoulder. His other hand curved over her waist as his arm cradled her back. The warmth of her skin traveled deep into his palm, spreading throughout his entire being. The sensation lingered in a way his thoughts struggled to name apart from a curious, relentless pull that tightened his throat and slowed his breath.

Azriel didn’t move immediately. There was a slowness to the world around them, the torches a distant hum. He could hear his pulse in his ears, not loud but relentless, keeping time with the tiny miniature huffs of her breath beneath him. When she exhaled, the air between them tasted faintly of iron and vanilla and something softer, more earthy, he hadn’t catalogued before.

Eventually, he carefully shifted his weight so he could roll clear without jostling her. As he retracted his arm from underneath her his fingers brushed her skin, as if letting go might tear the fragile moment into pieces. He sat back on his heels and took in the sight of her—dust on one sleeve, hair loosened at the nape, cheeks flushing from impact and exertion. 

“You… okay?” he asked, voice considerably small for the space between them.

“Fine,” she said, but the word was too clipped. She pushed to her knees and then to her feet, hands finding the braid at the base of her skull as if steadying herself both physically and somehow inwardly. Azriel watched that motion like a male watching a tide before he followed suit, rising to his feet as well. 

He waited, the line between them electric and patient. His fingers twitched at his sides, a flutter of desire at the idea of lingering and creating something tender. But that same resurfacing memory pinned him. His touch had only ever been used as a tool and a weapon; wringing the truth from enemies and traitors. But now those same hands remembered the shape of her curves and wanted to learn more: the bend of her neck, the hollow just below her collarbone, the small indent where a strap cut into skin.

When he finally moved forward it was with the softest of intentions. He swept a finger across the dust on her forearm as if the motion were a correction to the world and not an excuse to feel her skin again. The touch was tiny, deliberate; the heat that came back into his own fingertips stayed with him. She didn’t jerk away. She met his gaze—their eyes locking in a way that was less about challenge and more about recognition—and for the first time he allowed himself to notice the way her pupils adjusted to the torchlight as it flared to life around the ring and the way her lashes shadowed the high plane of her cheek.

“Careful,” she said, voice low. “Someone may think that you’re falling for me”. He looked at her mouth, at the small line that appeared when she smiled. He felt something like a fissure open in his chest. A hundred tiny thoughts rose and fell inside him—the memory of pain he had inflicted, the apologies he expressed, the growing number of instances where he found himself admiring her classic beauty—each one checked by a more stubborn impulse: Protect. The rest of the ring felt distant; the only rhythm that mattered was the slow return of her breath and the pulse at his wrist where their bodies had touched. 

“Get it? Because we fell…” She couldn’t hold back her laughter, the melodic sound breaking the tension. They resumed training because the world required motion after stillness, but the edges had shifted. His strikes were gentler; where he had once pushed to find a weakness he now sought to test and teach. The small changes were almost invisible but they accumulated—a softer feint, a hand that steadied rather than shoved, a look that asked permission without words. Each act piled upon the last until he was able to push the rising attraction aside and convince himself that his actions were merely fueled by the never ending guilt he felt. 

Later, when the torches were guttering and the ring cooled, he returned the wooden blades to their place among the various training weapons. Azriel returned to her side, arms stretched out in their usual way to carry her back to the townhouse. Her arms wrapped around his neck and the vanilla scent rose again. He inhaled without thinking, the smell lodging in him like a place-name. 

The flight was quick and silent, but she still murmured a goodnight as she entered what had become her home. Azriel supposed that was one of the nicer things his brother had done for the woman. He lifted himself back into the dark sky above, the outline of her still present in the low ache under his ribs.

As soon as you entered the townhouse you had received an invitation to meet Feyre at the River House. By the time you reached the entry gate, your pulse had finally begun to settle. The cold night air had done little to cool the warmth still lingering beneath your skin. Heat from exertion, from embarrassment, from something you refused to examine too closely. Azriel had flown off without a word after dropping you off, and you told yourself that was normal and that you didn’t care.

The front door clicked softly behind you as you stepped inside, letting the warmth of the sitting room wash over you. Feyre looked up from her place on the floor and smiled, the kind that made the world feel steadier.

“Perfect timing,” she said. “We were just talking about Nyx’s birthday.” She gestured for you to take a seat and you almost startled when you saw Mor and Elain were also present. 

The sitting room of the River House was warm with lamplight, the Sidra’s glow faint beyond the windows. A tray of tea sat between you and the three Fae females, steam curling in soft ribbons. Feyre sat on the floor, her back to the fireplace, as she examined the parchment spread across a low coffee table with sketches of balloons, cakes, and the layout of the back and front gardens. Mor lounged with her usual glass of wine against the arm of a divan, one leg tucked under her while Elain sat on the floor opposite of Feyre, a basket of seed packets at her side. Her hands kept busy placing the seeds into seedling planters. You found yourself on the lone high backed cloth chair, eyes scanning over Nyx’s latest drawing — a crooked star with eight points-Feyre handed to you as you sat. 

Feyre sighed, tapping the parchment. “Six years. I can hardly believe it.” You nodded slowly, carefully folding the drawing and placing it in the pocket of your cardigan. The knitted bouclé sweater hugged you with a velour like softness making you feel perfectly content to fall asleep right there next to the warmth of the small fire. Your eyes traveled and fixed themselves on the flames licking up towards the lintel and flue. Their dancing movement was mesmerizing, making you only vaguely aware of the High Lady’s discussion with her sister about the preparations for the little one’s spring birthday. 

“We can fill the garden with lanterns, paper stars perhaps?” Elain leaned forward, her voice gentle. “I’m sure I can find colored paper or light fabric to complement the flowers that should be in bloom by then. It will definitely add a touch more brightness to the festivities.” Her hands continued to insert what appeared to be marigold seeds into the planters if the label on the packets were accurate. 

Feyre nodded along, her sketch pencil quickly marking the designated spots on her rendering of the back garden. “How many other children should we be expecting?”  

Feyre’s question hung in the air for a moment, and you found yourself tracing the rim of your teacup before answering. “I think… maybe a dozen? Nyx has more friends than he realizes. He’s very charming.”

Mor smiled. “He gets that from me.” You chuckled as Feyre lightly shook her head. 

Elain smiled softly, though her eyes flicked toward you with a kind of gentle curiosity. “And from you,” she added. “He adores you.”

Heat crept up your neck. “He just likes that I let him stay up past bedtime from time to time.”

“That’s not why,” Elain murmured, arranging another seedling. “Children know when someone sees them. Really sees them.” There was something in her tone—something knowing—that made your breath catch. Elain’s gaze lingered on you a heartbeat longer before she returned to her work.

Mor stretched her legs out. “Speaking of being seen… I heard Azriel’s been training you more often.”

Your head snapped up. “Only because Cassian’s been busy with the Illyrians and Ruhn is currently back in Midgard helping his friend in locating some information about that damn prophecy.”

“Mhm,” Mor hummed, unconvinced. “Well that hasn’t stopped Lucien from hovering like a mother hen.”

Elain’s hands paused over the soil. She didn’t look up, but her voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Lucien worries, he always has. It’s how he shows he cares.” Your eyes flickered over to the middle Archeron sister, catching the swivel of both Feyre and Mor’s heads. You had to prevent your jaw from dropping at the comment. That was perhaps the first positive thing that Elain had ever made towards her mate. A pressure in your chest flared at the thought that she may finally be opening up to their bond. 

Swallowing, you changed the subject of conversation.  “Azriel clearly cares enough as well?” You couldn’t stop the words from sounding more like a question than the confident statement you hoped. 

Elain finally lifted her eyes. There was no judgment in them, only a soft, perceptive sadness. “Azriel protects what he fears losing.” The room went still for a breath. Not heavy, just… honest.

Feyre cleared her throat, tapping her pencil against the parchment. “Alright, back to the lanterns. I refuse to let Nyx’s birthday be overshadowed by the Hewn City’s theatrics.”

The moment passed like a ripple across still water, but its echo stayed with you. Your fingers tightened around the folded star drawing in your pocket. Nyx’s crooked lines made you smile — but mention of the Hewn City tugged at something colder. You had never seen the court itself, only the catacombs beneath it… and even those memories were more sensation than image. Stone. Damp air. Footsteps that never belonged to you.

You’d heard stories, of course — shadows and jewels, cruelty wrapped in silk — but the truth of it lived somewhere beyond your reach. Mor must have caught the flicker of unease across your face. She straightened, wine glass dangling from her fingers.

Mor leaned forward, voice conspiratorial. “Alright, since (Y/N) hasn’t had the joy of a Hewn City ‘celebration,’ let me give you the basics. Expect pomp. Expect posturing. Everyone will be dressed to intimidate, dripping in jewels and shadows. The speeches will be long, the silences longer, and every noble will try to look like they’re the one pulling the strings. It’s theater, really.”

“And we’re putting a six‑year‑old in the middle of it?” You felt fear and trepidation raise within you as Feyre sighed, rubbing her temple.

“Yes, but-and I can’t believe I agree with my cousin- he needs to be exposed to that darkness at some point.” Mor sighed. “The Hewn City is still part of the Night Court. Nyx will be announced as heir, and that’s not something they can sneer away. He’ll be the star, whether they like it or not.”

You shifted in your seat, the awareness of the greater purpose Nyx would grow to fulfill. Nyx, just like everyone else, had a purpose. You tried to keep the despair from settling in your chest. The three females before you belonged here in ways you never could. They knew the customs, dangers, and expectations that made up the Hewn City. You only knew the shadows beneath it. “What about…what else should I expect?” you asked, voice softer than you intended. 

Elain dusted soil from her hands, her brow creasing. “Well...the Hewn City isn’t exactly forgiving.” 

Mor snorted. “Understatement of the century.” 

Elain’s lips curved in a small, apologetic smile. “But what little I do know is that presentation is everything there. So… we should probably think about what you should wear.” Elain perked up, eyes brightening with a kind of hopeful creativity. “Maybe we can find a balance. The pitch‑black attire made me feel so… swallowed. Neither you nor Nyx should feel that way. So, deep blues and purples, maybe with some silver accents. Colors that remind him of the sky he loves.”

Her gaze flicked to you, soft and earnest, as if she were offering you a way to breathe in a place built to suffocate.

Mor stretched her legs out, smirking. “Sounds like Elain has this covered. Which is good, because I’ll be in Vallahan again.”  She winked at you. “One additional thing I will suggest is that you'll need something practical. Something you can move in if he bolts for the dais, but also something that lets you hide a weapon.”

You blinked. “A weapon?”

“This isn’t the place to be unprepared and look uncertain.” Mor’s expression sobered. “Or unaligned. I heard about Helion’s stylistic choice at that meeting…” Her voice trailed off. “This isn’t the setting to have your allegiance be considered ambiguous. You are one of us and need to look the part.” Her words felt more like punches to your gut than reassurance of your place among them. Even if others in Rhysand’s inner circle considered you as one of their own, there was one major difference that was never mentioned out loud. 

Feyre smiled and placed a hand on your knee, easing the tension. “I’ll commission something for you. Midnight silk, perhaps, or a deep royal purple. It’ll have a lighter lining of course so you don’t roast under the Hewn City torches.”

“You should add pockets, too.” Elain chimed in. “Nyx will think it’s magic when you pull out sweets.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That little one does love to sneak food.” You looked at them, the three females who all had neatly carved places in this court and felt the weight of your own difference. 

Feyre reached further up and gently clasped the wrist of the hand holding your teacup, her hand warm over your skin. “You will be fine. You’ll walk in with the rest of us, and Ruhn will be right there with you. No one would dare harm you even if you are the only human in the room.” You recognized she meant well, but your safety hadn’t been the concern pressing against your heart, at least not until she reminded you.  Feyre’s eyes softened. “He’ll remember the party more than the ceremony anyway. This will be the day he feels loved, not just announced.”

The conversation drifted on — lanterns, sweets, music — the kind of easy planning that made the River House feel like a living heartbeat. You let yourself sink into it for a little while, warmed by the fire and the soft cadence of their voices. But eventually the hour grew late, and the others began to rise, stretching and gathering their things. Feyre squeezed your hand once more before you left, her smile warm and certain.

Outside, the cold night air met you like a wall. The River House glowed behind you, full of laughter and light, but the path home stretched long and quiet. You pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and started the walk back, each step carrying you farther from the warmth and deeper into the familiar hush of your own thoughts.

After the long trek through the frost covered cobblestone road, you found yourself standing alone in the foyer of the townhouse. The lanterns burning low cast long shadows across the floorboards, and the silence settled around you like a second skin. You took a slow and steady breath, but the air felt too thick. The townhouse always felt suffocatingly empty without Ruhn. 

Two days prior he traveled back to Midgard with Bryce and Hunt for the upcoming Winter Solstice. While he stated that he hated to leave you, you didn’t want him to miss any spare time he could have with his friends. A pain that was now an old friend to you. After six years living in this world; six holiday seasons away from every single person you had loved…It was only expected that bitter loneliness would be the only companion you were granted. A deep ugly part of you felt the hurt and anger rise up your throat like bile because no one seemed to care that you also held the Winter Solstice as a sacred day. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as you tried to ignore the lack of any decorations within the townhouse. 

The River House and even the House of Wind had no shortage of yuletide cheer. Wreaths and garland made of real evergreen leaves, strings of faelights wrapped around the banister of the main staircase, and glass ornaments from various artisans on the Rainbow hung in the windows displaying miniature scenes of memories shared throughout the year. How many of those ornaments would they all accumulate over the years? No, not just years…centuries. 

You choke back a sob as the familiar ache beneath your ribs pulls taught. Hot tears slip down your cheeks faster than you anticipated. It seemed that each year the pain of remembering just how utterly human you were became worse and worse. And despite their efforts, despite Feyre and her sisters once being human, despite Bryce being half-human…none of them would ever understand just how much all of this fucked with your head. 

You were the only mortal in this world of beings who will no doubt outlive mountains, whose histories would be studied in books simultaneously with their day to day lives. Compared to them you would be a small blip-a footnote really- in those very books. Almost like a smudge on one of Feyre’s paintings; something that doesn’t quite belong in the composition, no matter how carefully you try to blend the edges into the surrounding lines and shapes around it. It didn’t matter that you lived alongside them, laughed with them, planned parties and ceremonies with them; beneath it all that the quiet persistent truth never loosened its grip.

You will age. They will not.

You will fade. They will remain.

You will be forgotten, but your life will end before you ever forget them.  

You love them. Gods, you do; but that didn’t alter the facts that at the end of the day, you were not one of them. It took all of your strength to make yourself move, removing the layers of cold winter clothing. Tears still flowing in silent rivers down your full rounded cheeks. A fire roared to life in the hearth of the small parlor to the right of the foyer. You thought of Nyx — bright, wild, star‑touched Nyx — and how he so often clings to your legs as if you’re the only steady thing in his world. You remember how he laughs when you chase him through the garden, how he curls against your side during naps, how he trusts you without hesitation.

Your mind drifted to the future, his future. The one where he grows tall and strong and powerful, while you… don’t. A knot formed in your throat. What use would be to them then? When you could no longer be a caregiver to the small fae. You pressed your palms together, grounding yourself, but the thought still comes. What if one day he looks at you and realizes you’re breakable? What if he realizes you’re temporary?

The others don’t treat you that way, not intentionally, but sometimes you still caught the flicker of worry in their eyes when you get hurt. On other occasions you could swear you heard the softness in their voices as they said your name. As if you’re something fragile they’re afraid to drop. Sometimes… sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if they’re right.

The cold truth curled in your chest as you walked into the parlor. You’re human, mortal, and no matter how much they care for you, no matter how deeply you carve yourself into their lives, you will always be the one who leaves first. You sank onto the small sofa facing the fire, letting the heat lick at your chilled skin. Sadly, it didn’t reach the hollow in your chest. Nothing had felt right since that meeting of the High Lords. Not since the prophecy had been spoken aloud and the room had turned toward you like you were a riddle carved in bone. 

You pressed your palms to your eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they kept coming: hot, relentless, and humiliating. You hated crying alone. You hated crying entirely, but the silence of the townhouse swallowed every sound you made, and somehow that made it worse.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, minutes or hours, before a soft knock broke through the quiet. Your breath caught as your limbs froze. No one within ever knocked, they always just walked right in. Another gentle and hesitant knock echoed through the front of the home.

You wiped your face with trembling fingers and forced yourself to twist around towards the picture window. Lifting the curtain slightly you saw Lucien standing on the stone steps, head tilted back as snow dusted his hair and shoulders. You noted a small leather-wrapped object in his hand. You knocked on the window and waved for him to enter. 

The townhouse door yielded to him, recognizing him as one of the few allowed inside, and he placed his coat and boots near the entrance. Once inside the parlor where you sat, his russet eye flicked over your face, and something in his expression tightened. A subtle, quiet shift you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already unraveling.

“You’ve been crying.” His voice was soft as he crossed the room stopping less than a foot away from the couch. Out of the corner of your eye you watched him as he clearly debated on comforting you. The brief hesitation pulled something at your sternum, but didn’t diminish the fact his presence warmed the air like a hearth newly stoked. Finally, he sat himself down next to you and placed his arm along the back of the couch. It was enough of an indicator that you were more than welcome to lean on him if you so chose. And, of course, you did just that. You scooted yourself one seat over and curled into his side, his arm coming down to rest on your arm to cradle your figure. For a long moment neither of you spoke. You realized that Lucien would be perfectly content to just sit there with you the remainder of the night if you didn’t speak up. 

“Lucien?” Your voice cracked. “What are you doing here?” The male opened his mouth, closed it, and then reached into the pocket of his trousers. 

“I… finished this,” he said, clearing his throat. “For your dagger.” Without removing his arm from your side, he carefully unfolded the beautifully crafted sheath made of dark leather. “Azriel informed me that you asked to train with him earlier tonight. I thought that you should have this before your next session.” 

You blinked at it and then tilted your head to look up at him. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he would only show up for a practical reason. “That doesn’t exactly answer my question. You could have given that to me tomorrow. So, why tonight?”

“I know.” His jaw flexed. “That was my intention, but…” He stopped, eyes flicking up towards the hearth, then back to your face. His voice softened, losing its practiced steadiness. “Truth is I was worried. I didn’t get much of an opportunity to speak with you after the meeting,” he said quietly. “You left with Ruhn before I could… before I could make sure you were alright.”

“You always worry,” you whispered, a half smile on your expression as you thought of Elain’s words, not sure if it was a complaint or a comfort. You placed your head back on his shoulder. “But it is appreciated.” 

“I should have checked in on you sooner.” His voice was soft, careful. “It wasn’t like I haven’t had the opportunity to do so. I-I kept telling myself you were fine, that you had Ruhn, that you didn’t need me hovering, but…I still should have come.”

You shook your head. “You had enough to deal with. Besides, you saw me when you gave me the dagger.”

“(Y/N),” His voice took on a slight edge, “Please don’t make excuses on my behalf. I saw the way you held yourself together in the meeting, and the fear in your eyes afterward. I should have checked on you then.” The words hit you harder than you expected. You stared at the fire, blinking against the sting in your eyes. 

“I’m fine, really.” You swallowed, hardly believing your own words. Truth was you were not fine in the slightest. You were barely holding it together as thoughts constantly replayed variations of that meeting and spiraled in trying to make sense of what everything meant. 

“You do not have to pretend with me,” He murmured, resting his head on top of yours. As if he instinctually knew what you needed in that moment his arms wrapped around you. “And you don’t have to do any of this alone.” You looked up at him, at the concern etched into his features, at the way he seemed to be holding himself together like he was afraid his words were too bold. Your throat tightened.

“I just… I don’t…” Your voice cracked and trembled. Lucien’s thumb slowly rubbed along your arm as he held you. “My heart is breaking, Lu. There is just so…much. I don’t even know where to begin to process. This prophecy brings so much into question. I…I just…” He shushed you gently, turning his head and placing a chaste kiss to your brow. 

“We don’t need to figure out any of that just yet,” His voice was soft. “We have plenty of time.” How you wished that were true. Time was the one thing that you did not have. 

“Lu…we don’t-”

“No…I know,” He pressed another kiss to your brow. “But let’s not think about that right now okay, love? It doesn’t change the fact that we want you around and that you improve all of our lives.” An invisible weight yanked at your sternum and your heart fractured even further. Breath caught in your throat as you attempted to hold back the sob that desperately wanted to make itself known. A fresh wave of hot tears resumed streaming down their paths on your cheeks. His intrinsic understanding of your thoughts and feelings never ceased to amaze you, and you were grateful that you didn’t need to speak any of that outloud. Despite yourself, you were glad that you weren’t the only one to recognize your impermanence in this world. Though, that didn’t stop the pain and tears that were going to be shed. Perhaps it was that knowledge that broke you as you continued to sob into his tunic. His warm hands rubbed along your back, soothing and reaffirming his solid presence in your life.

“Do you want me to stay?” His voice was so faint you weren’t sure you heard it. “I know we-”

“Please,” You whispered back. “I… the tonic wouldn’t be a good idea tonight. I don’t want to numb this. But I also… I don't want to be alone.” 

“Of course, love.” Slowly he lowered his arms, standing and reaching out to help you up. The walk to your room was silent, Lucien’s hand laced with yours. Neither of you bothered to change or even get under the covers. Instead, you both laid atop the plush duvet, his warmth steadying you as you quickly drifted off to sleep. 

Lucien woke before dawn. It had become second nature after years of sleeping lightly; of listening for danger and never quite trusting the world to leave him in peace. However, this morning the first thing he registered wasn’t danger, but a warm and soft weight against his side. The faint scent of vanilla and amber filled his senses. It was soon accompanied by the memory of her tears soaking into the fabric of his tunic and the way her fingers had curled into his sleeve, as if anchoring herself to the world.

He exhaled slowly, careful not to disturb her as she slept. Her form curled toward him as she continued to breathe steadily, her face relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen in ages. Lucien dared not allow himself to believe that her serenity had anything to do with him. He knew he should move; should put distance between them before she woke, but he couldn’t get his limbs to comply with what was proper for a mated male. Not when some even deeper instinct urged him to hold her closer and warned him that if he let go too soon the world would somehow shatter. 

His golden eye whirred softly as it adjusted to the low light, tracing the curve of her cheek, as she nuzzled closer towards the crook between his neck and shoulder. She’d cried herself into exhaustion. And he’d held her until her breathing evened out and her trembling stopped, the weight of her grief finally easing enough for rest to finally take hold.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep beside her. He only meant to stay until she was well and truly asleep and then return to his own apartment in the city. But when she had whispered please, something in him had cracked open. Something he’d been holding shut for months, maybe even years.

Lucien swallowed as her breath fanned against his skin, the soft warmth racing down his body straight to his cock. He shouldn’t have stayed. He shouldn’t have let himself feel this. He shouldn’t have let her lean on him like that, not when she was so vulnerable, and definitely not when he was… whatever he was.

He closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his free hand to his brow. He cared for her. Much more than he should or had any right to.

And yet…He’d do it again. He’d always be there for her; through every spiral, every fear, every tear. He’d hold her through every storm for as long as she’d asked him to. Even if it broke him; especially if it broke him.

She shifted slightly, her hand brushing his ribs. Lucien froze, breath caught in his throat. But she didn’t wake, her body seeking warmth and pressing closer to him. His heart clenched.

He needed to leave before she opened her eyes and saw him like this; unguarded and absolutely aching for her. He also didn’t want to give her the chance to apologize for needing him; to thank him in that quiet voice that made him want things he shouldn’t want. 

Carefully, painfully, he eased himself out from beneath her grounding weight. Soft incoherent words murmured into the quiet of the room, her brow creasing, and he paused, hand hovering over her shoulder.

“Shh,” he whispered, barely audible. “You’re safe, love.” Her expression smoothed and she settled once again. Lucien stood and took to the throw blanket from the chair near the window and placed it over her. He lingered for one heartbeat too long, then forced himself to step back.

Silently, he left the room and headed down stairs where he saw the dagger sheath was still sitting on the couch in the parlor. Silently he tugged his boots back on and prepared to exit, only pausing to glance back toward the stairs. He hoped today would be easier for her. That she’d find peace and never need to cry like that again.

He hoped—

Lucien stopped himself from finishing that dangerous thought and instead stepped out into the cold morning air, letting the front door of the townhouse close softly behind him. 

Days later your heart thundered in your chest as you raced through the River House. You only had a marginal head start. Rounding your way around the kitchen counter you skidded to a stop, swinging your head left, right, and left again. The coast was clear. You took off in a mad dash for the front door. Bursting through the swinging door that led to the main entryway from the kitchen, you careened and wound your way through the main hall. You narrowly avoided running into a large round table in the center of the foyer, its surface littered with flowers of all colors in small paper planters. Likely left behind by Elain before she and Azriel left for their shopping trip. Finally reaching your goal, you thudded against the solid wood door, wrenching it open as fast as you could. Before you could make it two steps out the door you ran directly into a warm broad chest. An equally warm pair of hands kept you upright as they rested on your waist.

“Whoa there, what’s the rush?” You were greeted by Lucien’s surprised chuckle. A smile found its way across your lips. You opened your mouth, only to be interrupted by a high-pitched squeal.

“I found you!” The bright chirp of Nyx followed you out of the heavy oak doorway. You let out your own squeal as you shoved the grown male between yourself and the six-year-old child of night.

“Lucien’s neutral territory,” You giggle, “I’m safe!” You wrapped your arms tightly around his middle, not caring about the fact that he went utterly still at your touch. However, your wish to find sanctuary was not going to be fulfilled.

“No, he’s not,” You felt the force of which Nyx slammed into Lucien’s shins, “Because he’s it!”

“That’s not fair,” Your arms dropped from the male’s waist, and you immediately backed away, matching the child’s fit of giggles.

 “No tag backs Uncle Lu!” Nyx shouted gleefully, letting go of his own hold on the older Fae’s legs.

“What is happening?” Lucien’s crimson hair shifted as he whipped his head between the two of you, a smirk gracing his features.

“You have to chase (Y/N)!” Nyx exclaimed. You watched as a gleam appeared in the male’s russet eye, the golden one whirring alongside it.

“N-now Lucien…w-we can talk about this,” You continued to slowly back away, “We’re both adults here…” You knew you were in trouble as soon as his grin reached his eyes.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” You swallowed as he took a predatory step towards you, “I believe you heard the little Lord; I must give chase.” He took another step towards you, eyes bright with the infectious mischief you and Nyx found yourselves in daily.

“Shit.” Without a second thought you took off in a run, your slipper clad feet nearly sliding out from under you as you made your way along the side of the large house. The only sound that clued you into Lucien following was Nyx’s squeal of excitement. You ducked around a tree, the male hot on your heels. You made to sprint away again, but the grass was too slick from the moisture of the nearby riverbank. Tendrils of the mists from its shores spilled into the backyard.

“Fuck this.” You kicked your flats off and began to run away again, your feet finally finding some purchase in the dirt. If only it were enough to allow you to outrun the High Fae male. Sadly, Lucien gained on you quickly. You already knew that he wasn’t chasing you at his full speed, to which you were grateful as it would just be embarrassing if he caught you too quickly. 

You spied Nyx’s dark black hair out of the corner of your eye, which clued you into the fact that he was going to attempt to help his “Uncle” in some way. No sooner had the realization crossed your mind did the child dart across your path, causing you to stumble to avoid what would have been a painful collision. The child’s ploy was sufficient in getting you to pause long enough for Lucien to catch you. His arms wrapped around your middle in a bear hug, Nyx cheering him on.

“That is cheating!” You scolded Nyx, but a smile remained stretched on your features, “No helping the enemy.” The deep rumbling laugh vibrated from Lucien’s chest against your back. His hands lowered to your wide hips and his nose nuzzled against the back of your ear. His breath fanned against the hairs on the back of your neck caused a shiver to course through you. It seemed as if the asshole was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you.

“No helping the enemy?” His whisper was so low that only you could hear, “What about sleeping with the enemy?” You felt your face instantly heat up as Lucien’s hands squeezed the soft flesh of your hips. Your jaw dropped and you whipped your head around. His grin was the perfect picture of smugness, like a cat that caught a canary.

“Lucien!” It was clear that he was proud of the scandalized reaction he could elicit from you. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I’m joking (Y/N),” He chuckled, but his hands remained firmly planted on you. “Speaking of, there is something that we need to discuss. Come to my place tonight?” You pretended to think over the invitation. It had been too long since you and Lucien had any time just to yourselves. Well, that’s if you weren’t counting his overnight visit a few days prior. Before you had the opportunity to respond, Nyx ran up towards you, purple eyes sparkling bright. Lucien released his hold from around your waist, and you took the opportunity to immediately tag him back. 

“No tag backs!” You skipped away in a sing-song voice. The auburn haired male rolled his eyes before turning and chasing after Nyx. 

The laughter from the lawn carried up through the air. Nyx’s delighted shrieks echoed as he darted between shadows, barely evading Lucien. However, the grown male gained on him quickly as the child attempted to hide amongst the hedges, his wings flashing along their tops in the sunlight. Lucien’s long strides closed in behind him before picking him up and spinning him around. You were already breathless from the chase, the grass cool beneath your bare feet as you pivoted sharply to avoid Nyx’s outstretched hand as Lucien carried him while chasing after you.

“Too slow!” You called over your shoulder, grinning as Nyx squealed in delight.

The game continued almost unfairly, as both males were much faster. Running with all your might, forearms up and pressed against your breasts in an attempt to run more comfortably, you spot Elain and Azriel out of the corner of your eye as they walk through the small gate leading to the back garden. The Shadowsinger’s dark wings caught the light like oil over steel.

Something in you stirred before you could stop it. Maybe it was the rare warmth in his eyes, or maybe the tug of some reckless impulse which the years of being out of that dark cell allowed your body to build up once more, but you ran right up to where he stood. “Fly me up?” You asked, pointing towards the roof three stories above. 

Azriel blinked, surprised, and you had to suppress your grin. “You want me to—”

“Up there.” You clarified, before your brain could protest, voice sounding steadier than you felt. The dark slate roof gleamed in the mid-afternoon winter sun. “Out of Nyx’s reach. Just for a moment! He’ll just catch me again! Please?”

A small, incredulous smile flickered across his mouth. “All right.” He stepped close, arms outstretched and waiting for you to literally jump onto him in what he often refers to as your “Kola hug”.  Just as sure as your voice was, your body doesn’t hesitate. Arms and legs wrapping around his shoulders and torso before he lifts you both into the air. The warmth of him, and a faint scent of cedar, steals the breath right out of you…almost like Ruhn… almost. Before you can think, the ground is gone. The air sharp and cool as his wings beat once, twice, lifting you above the glittering river below. 

“That’s cheating!” the small Illyrian Fae shouts, his high pitch tone meeting your ears as it's carried by the wind.

“You cheated first!” You called back, head poking up from over Azriel’s shoulder. You winced, having realized that you practically yelled directly against his ear. However, the male only chuckled slightly in response. You couldn’t help the flash of pride in your chest at getting him to break that stoic facade twice in the span of just a few moments.  

Clinging to Azriel, the world fell away in a rush of color and sound. The laughter below became distant, and for one brief suspended moment you felt free. Azriel landed lightly on the roof’s peak, allowing you just enough space to lower your legs and stand on the edge to look at the garden below. The dark stone tiles were pleasantly warm beneath your bare feet. Something that would have been unheard of where you lived with the near constant shining sun. Walking around any artificial surface outdoors, even in the spring, was completely unheard of in your hometown. But you couldn’t deny how breathtaking the view was. The sun shining above the bluest sky, the Sidra flowing silver below. A laugh, wind-tossed and dizzy with wonder, escaped you. 

“This is incredible,” Your eyes scanned over the horizon as you held on to the chimney, bare foot slipping a fraction as you turned to look towards the House of Wind in the distance.

“Careful,” Azriel warned softly. You chanced a quick glance at him, his mouth curving as if your joy had undone something in him. From below your position at the chimney you hear the quick, determined beats of smaller wings. Nyx.

You scoot yourself around the staff of the chimney, hand splayed against the brick to maintain your balance, and craned your neck over the edge to see him climbing fast through the air. His tiny body luminous with power and pride, his laughter bright and wild. 

“(Y/N)!” he calls. “I’m coming!” Nyx’s wing beats are unusually uneven, the shifting of his body clunky, but he continues to make progress. The movement was something that you had not seen from him since he first started flying at 17 months old. You remember overhearing how that was late for an Illyrian. 

“Az?” You carefully turned your head towards the fully grown Illyrian to gauge his expression. Was he seeing the same issue as you? However, the Shadowsinger’s attention was nowhere near you or Nyx. You followed his line of sight to see Lucien slowly approaching Elain. 

The awkward air between them could be felt from the rooftop. Though, not even a minute later, it seemed that whatever exchange of words- words too distant for human ears- were sufficient for her to allow him to lead her away to the flower garden on the side of the house. You felt a soft pang in the dead center of your chest, but forced a smile. It was good to see her actually acknowledge him for once. 

Your attention returned to Nyx as he persisted through his struggles, his wings bringing him higher and higher towards the rooftop. You heard the slight rustle of Azriel’s wings twitching, and something in the air shifts. A ripple of magic, subtle but cruel, snakes its way through your nostrils and coats your tongue with the tang of metal. Nyx’s laughter falters and by some unseen trick of fate, as if ripped from existence his wings, his beautiful wings…were gone.

Everything went still and eerily silent as you stared at Nyx. His already wide eyes now looked like saucers filled with utter terror. 

“No.” You couldn’t tell if the word was even spoken aloud. Rhysand’s son, Feyre’s heart, your little one, began an all too fast descent as gravity yanked him back towards the ground. Your mind had gone completely blank as your body moved entirely on protective instinct. Hard brick sliced your toes as you launched off the roof. You ignored the call of your name on the wind as it tore at your clothes. Your stomach lurched and rolled as your body also succumbed to the forceful pull of the planet. Your glasses dislodged from their perch on your nose, but it didn’t matter. Your gaze never left Nyx. His eyes wide, lips parted in a soundless cry and arms reaching up towards you.

By some miracle you managed to catch him midair, wrapping your arms around him and twisting the both of you around so his tiny body would be shielded from the impact. You had no time to do anything else. No magic to protect yourself or circumvent the inevitable impact of the hungry ground rushing to meet you.

Pain. Sharp as a bolt of lightning pierced your body and instantly the world went dark, but not silent. A cacophony of screams and shouting were muffled by a high pitched wail. You willed your hands to cover your ears, but the muscles didn’t so much as twitch. 

You couldn’t catch your breath as every attempt at an inhale felt like splintered glass. The feeling of pins and needles traveled from your fingertips towards your elbow as numbness took hold. Nyx’ trembling became just as faint as his sobbing. He’s alive. 

“(Y/N)!” Nyx’s voice sounded distant and the warmth of the sun on your face suddenly disappeared. A chill you recognized all too well replaced that warmth. Azriel’s shadows, frantic and cold, swirled around your neck and down the left side of your body. He was close, too close if the alarm bells of your lizard brain senses were any indication. His voice was soft and cracking like he was breaking in ways you’d never heard before. 

“No…fuck…stay…Stay with me. Please.” A soft pressure settled against your forehead. The pain and pressure in your chest dissipated almost immediately. A gloved thumb brushed your brow, or maybe it was bare skin, warm and trembling, and the shadows surged as if trying to knit you back together.

“(Y/N)!” Lucien shouted, his voice sharp and clear in your ears. The pressure and coldness was ripped away from you. Fierce warmth flooded in, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His voice held too many emotions to count as he barked orders to whomever else was present. Pain flared in waves. Echoes of different voices, known and unknown, floated above you. Breathless whispers praised the Mother of your survival from a fall from such a height. Perhaps all the speculation surrounding you was right. A greater power must be looking out for you. Deep within you knew the fall should’ve killed you instantly, but here you were, teetering on the edge of consciousness. You released a silent thanks to the Mother as well. Warmth and coldness filled you simultaneously in what you could only assume was in response. Fatigue was starting to catch up as the adrenaline subsided. The sound of the world around you dwindled until the last thing you heard was Nyx’s soft whisper begging you not to leave. 

Your thoughts slowed as darkness pulled at the edges of your vision. Nyx was alive — that was all that mattered. The pain ebbed, replaced by a weighted tug at your sternum, steady and insistent, as if something ancient refused to let you slip away. The last sensation you felt was warm, trembling hands sliding beneath you, lifting you from the ground with a care that made your chest ache. You let yourself go limp, the world narrowing to warmth, motion, and the faint echo of Nyx’s voice whispering your name like a prayer.

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @ronibartender @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella @julesvanslutta @whyucloudingmymind @fussel9913 @anuttellaa

@eomma-gom

[mirandasidefics]

...im starving..i have been waiting ...i need ur content..take ur time..

Hello!

I know it's been a while since my last chapter. I am working on things, but my free time has been drastically reduced due to Grad school. I promise that I have not given up on this fic, nor have I given up on the requests that are still in my inbox. It's just going to be a little while longer before the next chapter is fully ready and I feel confident in posting.

I appreciate everyone that is still interested and enjoying this fic!

[pearwolf]

"i want to work on a hobby but i wont because i should be doing more important things" <- person who isnt gonna do either of those

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere-Chapter 17

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: The High Lords all convene to discuss a growing threat. The existence of other worlds and the prophecy are revealed.

Word Count: 7.2 K

Warnings: Maybe some language. My brain can't think.

Author's Note: I managed to get this chapter done a little earlier than expected! Whoo-hoo for fall break! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. There is a still quite a bit of exposition in this chapter, but the next one will have a bit more of the building romance.

**If you had left a request to be added to the tag list on Chapter 16, tumblr ate it before I could actually add it to this post. Please comment on either this chapter or the Masterlist so I can make sure that I get everyone. Also, if your @ has changed since your original request, let me know as well so that I can actually tag you and the updates not go into the tumblr void. **

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @ronibartender for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 16 Next: Chapter 18

Helion sent the requests to each of the High Lords as soon as you all returned to the estate where the three of you had been staying while exploring the ancient library. Helion ensured additional rooms were cleaned and made ready for the new arrivals. Bryce and Hunt were given a spacious suite, practically the same size as Helion’s own room. Whereas Ruhn, who would end up bunking with his friend when he arrived, was given what appeared to be one of the smallest rooms. You were surprised Ruhn didn’t insist upon sharing a room with you. You couldn’t deny that you were looking forward to the possibility. It had only been a week, but you missed him.  

After an extensive discussion on the logistics of teleporting multiple bodies that ended with Hunt walking off in a huff, Bryce and Ruhn briefly returned to the Night Court in order to retrieve Tristan Flynn from Midgard, hoping his private lessons in linguistics from childhood could shed some light on the true nature of the half crumbling scrolls you found. Upon their return, Bryce casually mentioned their brief confrontation with Rhysand. The High Lord, predictably, had a conniption-seething with that quiet, deadly rage-when he found out about their little field trip to the Day Court and bringing yet another off-worlder into his precious City of Starlight. It had been clear that Ruhn and Bryce couldn’t bring themselves to give a single fuck, but Hunt and Lucien were weary of Rhysand’s promise of consequences. 

Flynn proved extremely helpful in translating most of the Latin and even some of the rune passages on the scroll. He took several pictures of the scroll on his phone in order to see if there would be anything similar in the Fae archives in Avallen or Valbara. They already knew it would be too risky for them to make another attempt to sneak into the Asteri’s archives. 

From what he could determine you had been correct in your assumptions. The scroll outlined Alfheim’s original story of creation. Flynn informed that he would need to review his old notes to verify that he was correct in his translations, but so far it appeared that the world had actually been created by seven deities, each representing an aspect of the world. It reminded you of many other world creation stories from your own planet’s history. Each deity was responsible for a specific aspect, which just so happened to coincide with the elements that made up what the Mother used in her Cauldron to create Prythian. 

Your mind wandered back to your time at the symphony with Azriel. The fondness of the memory took you by surprise. You never imagined a time when your mind would have associated Azriel with something positive and enjoyable. There were still moments when his sudden appearance would startle you, but that reaction was now the rarity compared to before. You supposed that was a good thing. A sign you were healing from what could easily be referred to as the worst trauma of your life. It was strange to realize that things had changed so significantly. You supposed that was to be expected after nearly six years. 

Your mind continued to reminisce over the music that had completely captured your heart. That night was without a doubt the most peaceful you had felt around the winged male. You couldn’t help but wonder if that comfort was due to the music…or due to the male himself and reprieve he had provided that night. You hadn’t even realized that you were staring without focusing on the scattered pages in front of you until a hand waved over your face. 

“There she is,” Flynn smiled. “Have a nice day dream, gorgeous?” You saw Bryce roll her eyes. The subtle, yet not so subtle, glare Ruhn gave the male as he left the musty hall did not go unnoticed either. 

“Sorry,” You muttered, hands rubbing over your face. You had spent hours reading and jotting down possible translations for the runic alphabet and the other unknown language.

“No need to apologize,” Flynn continued to smile as he leaned against the long wooden table in the library archives. “I think I got enough pictures of this scroll that Dec and I can begin to look through the archives on Avallen.” He held up his phone, shaking it slightly to emphasize his point.

“Just be careful who else has access to those images, Flynn,” Bryce warned. “The protection your King grants only extends so far.” The trio had filled you in on their latest trip and the bargain she and Ruhn made with the Autumn King. The island of Avallen now fell under their father’s jurisdiction after Bryce killed Ruhn’s uncle Morven. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt about their deal. The Autumn King agreed to cover up the fact that his offspring were travelling back and forth between worlds, and allowed to take Flynn and Declan on as personal research assistants. All Bryce had to do was agree to bring the Autumn King to Prythian once the Asteri were defeated. Only a fool would have said no to that deal. 

“Sure thing sweetheart,” Flynn pocketed his cell phone. “The first goal is to figure out if that mistranslation is accurate. ‘New rains’ just doesn’t make as much sense as ‘new reign’ does.” 

“That’s great,” Your attention was already drifting off again, “Any help in translating is appreciated.” The male nodded and you were vaguely aware of his brown eyes looking you up and down. 

“Your other red-headed friend said he would take me back to that portal.” Flynn continued. “You really do seem to have the males here wrapped around your finger.” 

“Excuse me?” That garnered your attention. Flynn raised his hands in defense. 

“Relax, I meant no harm.” He smiled. “Just noting that he-”

“Lucien,” You interrupted, lips pursed with irritation. 

“Lucien,” Flynn nodded before continuing, “Only volunteered to accompany me because you had asked him to pick something up for you.” You looked up at Flynn from your spot in the chair. 

“What is your point?” You studied him with narrowed eyes. 

“No point really,” He pushed off from the table and began walking towards the main entrance, very likely to meet the very male you were discussing. “Just an interesting observation. Just like it is interesting that my dear friend, Prince Ruhn, would have been equally willing to assist you.” Bryce snorted from across the table and you glared at her. Her saccharine smile only added to your building ire. 

“I suggest you keep your observations to yourself, Flynn,” You stood, turning in the opposite direction and started to walk away. You could practically feel the wide grin radiating off the male as you made your way to the back row of piled scrolls. You heard his retreating footsteps echo through the chamber as he left. 

“He’s not wrong (Y/N),” Bryce’s voice cut through the space. Sighing, you made your way back towards where she still sat. 

“I know,” You plopped down into your seat. “I just…it’s complicated with Ruhn.” Bryce nodded. 

“My brother is an idiot,” She said simply. “He often says shit he doesn’t mean.”

“He called me by another woman’s name, Bryce.” The half-fae groaned at your correction. 

“My point still stands,” She finally set down the pen she held, “He knows he fucked up, and he is trying to do everything in his power to make it up to you.” 

“So, I should just automatically forgive him?” You looked at her incredulously. 

“I’m not saying that,” She sighed. “What I am saying is not to disregard his efforts to apologize.” You opened your mouth to continue your protests when Ruhn entered. 

“Hey, the barge is ready for us,” He called from the entrance of the corridor leading to the larger chambers. “You ladies have everything you need before we set sail to wherever it is we’re going from here?” 

“Just think things over, okay?” Bryce encouraged as she gathered her supplies. You nodded, gathering your own belongings and followed after. 

Two weeks came and went with the preparation and stress of the High Lords’ meeting; what if they weren’t pleased with your presence in their realm? What if they laughed at the idea of such a mythical threat? You wiped your sweaty hands on the incredibly intricate gown Helion had specifically designed for you. Layers upon layers of pale chiffon. The pinks, purples, and peach tones created an ombre that almost resembled light of the setting sun. This was enhanced by the glittering beads along the hem that literally glowed in the dark. You pulled at the tight bodice and the strap that crossed over your chest to the opposite shoulder. The fit of the dress was like nothing you had worn before. It was gorgeous, but you felt so much like a doll that was being made to look more important than you actually were. 

“Stop fussing,” Lucien said as he braided your hair.

“I can’t help it,” Setting your hands in your lap, you looked up at his reflection in the mirror before you. “Why do I even need braids?”

“Braids are a sign of class and nobility in the Autumn Court.” Lucien’s answer was simple. His fingers quickly and easily parted another small section of your hair into thirds. 

“So, you’re using me as a ‘fuck you’ to your father.” You raised an eyebrow at him. Your eyes watching as he tucked the small braid, he just finished into the larger braid that somehow felt perfectly in line with your spine. 

“You don’t have to put it like that… you deserve these braids.” His focus remained on his task, picking out yet another small section to braid. 

“Why don’t you wear braids then?” He finished tying the braid in place.

“Well, I-”

“It’s time!” Ruhn came in, your eyes meeting through the mirror as the male seemed to lose his breath at the sight of you. You went to face him when Lucien gave your hair a generous tug and a disapproving hum, telling you not to move.

“I need five minutes.” The auburn-haired male said, not taking his eyes off your hair.

“You want me to tell Helion that?” Ruhn raised a brow and leaned against the door frame.

Lucien met Ruhn’s eyes through the mirror. “If this is going to work then she needs to look perfect.”

“She’s already perfect.” Ruhn murmured.

“More perfect then.” Lucien replied, not paying the Midgardian any more mind as he continued his ministrations in your hair.

Your eyes met Ruhn’s through the mirror once again. There you could see a million words he couldn’t say. So, you focused your gaze to the oak table in front of you as you heard the door close.

Minutes later you found yourself waiting for the High Lord’s meeting to begin. The meeting hall in Helion’s palace was breathtaking. A vast marble sanctuary reminiscent of an ancient Athenian assembly hall. Tall doric style columns soared overhead, their fluted shafts supporting a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes. Mosaic floors, arranged in interlocking geometric patterns, depicted mythic scenes of High Fae and Lesser Fae in timeless dialogue, while carved friezes along the walls recalled storied epic battles and divine interventions. Natural light streamed through tall, arched windows, bathing the assembly in a golden radiance that lent an air of solemnity to the proceedings.

You stood behind an archway that led into a small hall on the side of the grand room; Ruhn, Bryce, and Hunt behind you. You peeked around the side as six of the seven total High Lords entered the space, taking their seats along the long, wooden table. You remembered Lucien’s hidden expression when Helion confirmed that Tamlin had been the only one not to send a response. The slight tremor in your fingers forced you to flex them. 

“It will be okay,” Ruhn reassured, his large hand resting against the small of your back. “This is the right decision.” Nodding you poked your head around the corner again. 

Standing before the various High Lords, Helion raised his arms in greeting. “Thank you all for coming.” He began, his deep voice resonating throughout the space, “It’s been too long since we’ve come together to discuss the affairs of our lands. When last we convened, Hybern brought war upon us. Each court valiantly fought against an enemy that had numerous advantages, including control of the enigmatic Cauldron created by the Mother herself. We defeated Hybern by what many could claim as sheer luck, but in truth we knew our enemy.” The High Lord of Day paused. 

“I would expect these dramatics from Rhysand, not you Helion,” You could hear the smile in the amused tone from a handsome caramel color haired male sitting to the right of Helion. 

Helion looked to the male, “True, Thesan, I’m less known from my grand reveals, but the preamble is necessary for the weight of the information that I have obtained. Prythian is at risk of another more ancient foe returning to our world. The Daglan.” His gaze shot over to Rhysand as a ripple of murmurs passed among the gathered entourages of the various High Lords. 

“How did you come by this information?” A young male with platinum blond hair and piercing ice blue eyes leaned forward in his seat, his hand reaching for a female of equal icy beauty. If their appearance wasn’t an automatic give away their warm attire definitely marked them as the rulers of the Winter Court: Kallias and Vivian. 

Helion turned towards where you and the others stood waiting, his arm rising to cue your entrance. “I have come to learn that our world is not the only one of its kind.” You felt your knees shaking as you all walked forward. Ruhn’s hand remained on your back, its strength and warmth the only thing keeping you grounded.  “Our universe holds worlds that also harbor life. My guests, kin of the Night Court and the ancient former High Queen Theia, hail from such a world.” Helion continued, his voice steady. “They are the ones who warned me. Over the past five years they have traveled between our two worlds, working tirelessly to monitor and report on the Daglan’s movements and plans, which is why neither myself nor Rhysand and Feyre came forward until now.” You turned your head slightly to see a smirk on Nesta’s face. Azriel stood behind her, his honey hazel eyes wide for the briefest of moments. His gaze remained solely focused on you and you couldn’t stop the heat that spread across your cheeks. 

You finally reached the meeting table, inlaid with delicate laurel wreaths and olive branches. You could feel the tension thicken the air. All eyes landed on your small group of four. The mixture of expressions on all present made you dizzy. Shock and surprise, anger, disgust, and fear. Dozens of eyes bouncing from you to Bryce to Hunt. It was easy to tell when the others saw Ruhn, a few letting out small gasps due to his extreme resemblance to Rhysand. 

Helion cleared his throat, eyes landing on Lucien. With a small nod, the emissary rose from his seat that had been placed between Feyre and Helion. “As the Night Court’s emissary, and fellow guest of the Day Court, I would like to introduce our kin from Midgard.” He again listed the names for each of you. You immediately noticed how there was no mention of you being from an unknown world. Seeing as how you weren’t even sure if your world was connected and your arrival more than just a mere fluke, it was probably best that all assumed you too were from Midgard. 

Your eyes scanned the crowded table as you took the empty seats. Each high lord brought at least two to three members of their higher-ranking court members to accompany them. You could immediately pick out Lucien’s family from the Autumn Court. Beron’s face was nearly as red as the highlights in his hair. 

“What the hell is the meaning of all this, Rhysand?” Beron’s rage was palatable as he fixed his attention on the High Lord of Night. “Finally making a move to place yourself as High King? Using the absurd threat of the Daglan as justification?” Helion rolled his eyes while Thesan groaned. 

Rhysand, seated with an unmistakable calm, met Beron’s gaze and allowed a small, knowing smile to appear as he replied, “I have no interest in that position, Beron. Helion called this meeting without mine or Feyre’s prior knowledge. The arrival of Bryce and her companions have always been that of a family matter.” His purple gaze shifted to Helion. “But since you assume I am after power, I will tell you all what I know. Our own histories tell of the Daglan’s defeat and disappearance from our world. You, Beron, and I know that various members of our respective courts had also disappeared not long after. Bryce and her brother Ruhn are distant kin of the Night Court and can confirm the Daglan are still alive and seek revenge on our world.”

“Rhysand is correct, and this is no coup,” Helion advised. “The Daglan, known in Midgard as the Asteri, are alive and just as powerful as ever. It is only a matter of time before they have a specific plan to return. Ms. Quinlan shall explain further.” 

Bryce nodded, her body surprisingly taking on an almost regal air. “The Asteri-the Daglan- are the supreme beings in control of all of Midgard. The history of the Midgardian Fae and the Night Court recount High Queen Theia and her followers traveling through a rift within the Night Court lands and were later trapped on Midgard. Humans and Vanir- Faes and other near immortal beings- have started a rebellion against the Daglan. Many have died, and continue to be killed every day. I was traveling to find others to help us in overthrowing and driving the Daglan off Midgard for good. My arrival on Alfheim, the home world of my and my brother’s ancestors-your world-was honestly an accident.” Bryce motioned to Ruhn, her eyes flicking over to the seats of those from the Autumn Court as well. You couldn’t deny the resemblance seen within her hair and eye color. It was also not lost on you that her father’s title of Autumn King may be in honor of their ancestors. 

“That doesn’t answer how the Daglan pose a current threat to us,” A male with striking white dreaded hair and rich dark skin interrupted. 

“As Rhysand stated, they have a grudge against this world,” Bryce answered with a measured tone. “This world is the only one that defeated them and successfully sent them away. Their number one goal is to return, and have been searching for a way for thousands of millennia.” 

Beron let out a dark chuckle, “This is ridiculous.” His laughter grew. “An absolute farce!”

“She’s not lying, Beron,” Rhysand’s voice was calm. “Not about the Daglan’s desire to return. Members of my own court have been to Midgard and gathered their own intel about the legitimacy of their claims when rescuing her brother and mate, both of whom can surely attest to the cruelty that awaits us all should we not take preemptive action.” A silence settled over the room. 

“Each Asteri wields the power of a star. If they find a way to break through to this world they intend to take ultimate control again.” Ruhn spoke up. 

“Break through?” Kellias questioned. “I’m confused. You and your companions have been traveling back and forth, yet the Daglan are unable? What holds them back?” Bryce looked over to Rhysand and then to Nesta. Your eyes followed hers to see Nesta grant Bryce a small nod. 

“I carry an item of the Dread Trove within me, Theia’s Horn,” Her words rang into the silence that yet again settled over all in attendance. Blank stares greeted them. 

“I’ve never heard of the Dread Trove,” Tarquin admitted. He looked around at his fellow High Lords, landing on Beron whose face had gone ashen. “Beron?”

“Impossible,” the High Lord of Autumn spat. “The Dread Trove is a myth. This entire meeting is nothing but a trick for the Night Court to increase its power.” 

“Feyre and I have plenty of internal Night Court tasks to keep us occupied. There is no desire for anything more,” Rhysand’s voice remained calm, but a sliver of darkness rippled around his frame. 

“What of your kin then?” Beron continued, nose wrinkled in disgust as his deep amber eyes landed on you. “How do we know that they haven’t come here with the intention of establishing themselves as our new rulers? I will admit that I was fooled once by the Harlot of Hybern, but I will not be fooled by outsiders again!”

“Enough Beron!” Helion practically roared, his power bursting in an invisible wave, forcing Beron to comply. Fear spread through you so quickly that you had no way of stopping the soft whimper that escaped your throat as you felt the power within that command, although not directed to you. The feeling wrapped around you, reminding you of when you felt it last; at that ancient library when Lucien left you alone with Helion. It wasn’t until this very moment, where Beron seems to have no option but to be silent at Helion’s command that you understand that perhaps Lucien did not have a choice either. Helion’s eyes softened as their focus was drawn to you. His attention highlighted your presence as it had previously been overlooked. 

“She’s… human…” Kallias’ brows rose, likely finally picking your scent apart. You shifted in your seat, eyes darting around. Ruhn’s hand shifted from your lower back to your hip. His grip tightening as he pulled you closer. Another male with bright long red hair began to chuckle. 

“It appears the Night Court’s affinity for humans runs in their blood,” The male’s amber eyes glinted with mischief. “I’m intrigued to know what role the Doppelganger’s lover plays in all this.” Ruhn growled at the male, but it was Azriel that spoke. 

“Watch your tongue, Eris before I cut it from your mouth and feed it to those dogs you love so much,” Azriel’s words were slicing, but Eris merely grinned. 

“Oh, she must be of importance if one of the lap dogs is snarling,” Eris continued mocking, taking you in more carefully; the color and pattern of your dress, your intricate hair style, the color of your eyes and your body language towards the Starborn prince. “You look horrendous, as if someone could not make up their mind as to where you belonged. I suppose that is fitting for a mortal who is clearly desperate to become Fae.”

The room erupted in a wave of power, knocking Eris on his ass, chair tipping back and a leg breaking off. The male looked up, lip split with dark ruby red slowly making its way down in his chin. Ruhn stood up, placing his body in front of you as you remained seated. From the other side of the table Lucien and Azriel stood practically side by side. For the first time during this meeting Rhysand looked genuinely surprised.  

Helion once again raised his arm. “If we can please set aside the petty squabbles and get back to the matter at hand,” He looked between the three males. 

“Eris makes a fair point,” Tarquin spoke up, “Why is a human present for discussion on the affairs of the Fae?” Helion looked between you and Rhysand. 

“She, too, is kin of the Night Court…and High Queen Theia,” Helion’s voice was unwavering as the truth rolled off his tongue. “She was also instrumental in the discovery of a prophecy that foretells the return of the Daglan. Making the threat they possess all the more legitimate.” Again, the room settled into a heavy quiet.  

“What does this prophecy state?” Thesan finally asked. Helion’s warm gaze returned to you as he gestured for you to rise. You winced as the wooden chair scraped along the marble flooring. You knew that you couldn’t show any signs of weakness or uncertainty as dozens of Fae eyes landed on you. With a deep inhale your eyes landed on the still empty chair reserved for the absent High Lord of Spring. 

“When magic returns to the earth, and death’s shadow is unchained, celestial bodies will bring forth new reign.” Your tone was solemn and the meeting hall went entirely still. You allowed your eyes to dart around, taking in the expressions from all present. The air felt thick, like a large thunder storm was building on the horizon. You supposed it was. The information was outlandish to say the least. You couldn’t blame Beron nor any of the others for assuming this was absurd. 

“It’s highly convenient,” Beron was the first to break the silence, though the heaviness in the air continued to thicken, “this discovery being found at the same time that interlopers make their way into our courts. Did you honestly think that having a pathetic human relay the information would-” You belted out a laugh. Your heart fluttered, blood boiling as your laugh grew. Your limbs felt as if they were filled with lead and air. Your mind, dizzy and drifting away from your body. Ruhn’s fingers interlaced with yours. 

“A pathetic human?” Your voice sounded distant to your own ears. “I may look weak and fragile, but I assure you I am not. I am certain that I have endured more disparities and violence in my short existence than you have in the hundreds of years your rancid ass has plagued the lives of everyone here.” 

“(Y/N),” You couldn’t hear Rhysand’s calm warning as blood pounded in your ears. Ruhn’s hand gripped yours tightly as Beron’s face grew red with rage. 

“I survived and triumphed from the adversity I have faced as a human.” Your voice, one you couldn’t believe was your own, remained steady as you continued. “I have encountered arrogant scum, boastful bastards just like you, and have proved them wrong in their attempts to lie about facts. The facts in this are simple. The Daglan will return. They will kill you and your people for their own enjoyment. They will then rape this world of all its resources simply because they believe they have some claim due to a bogus belief of innate superiority. If you can’t understand that, then it is you who are pathetic!” 

Beron’s face was enraged. “You arrogant bitch!” A snarl ripped from him as a wave of bright flames soared towards you. Ruhn’s arms quickly wrapped around your waist, lifting and spinning you out of the line of fire. The hall was immediately filled with a distorted combination of bright light and shadows. Shouting and the banging of objects added to the chaotic atmosphere. The smell of burning flesh brought your attention to Ruhn. 

Your eyes widened as they took in the sight of his burned forearm. “Oh gods!” You looked up at his face, the grimace of pain clear in his expression even as he tried to reassure you. Out of the corner of your eye you caught a shadow carefully curling around your arm. The whisper of movement helped ground your focus, bringing you back into your body after you allowed your anger to get the best of you. “Ruhn, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, baby. I’ve been burned before,” He carefully smoothed down the flyaway strands of hair that poked out from your braids. “Are you okay though?” You nodded, the shouting now dying down, Helion’s firm tone once again resonating through the hall.  

“We must stop this infighting!” Helion’s voice continued to resonate, an arm outstretched toward the High Lord of Autumn. Your eyes followed his glare. Beron was pinned in his seat by some invisible force. “You have no authority to punish my guests for any perceived insolence while in my domain, Beron. The Daglan plan to return and this prophecy confirms that forces beyond our control are at work.” Helion lowered his arm, and Beron’s body slumped as whatever held him in place lifted. “There is no plan to change the way in which we govern ourselves. I simply ask that we all assess the resources within each of our respected courts. We can reconvene in the near future to discuss any necessary specifics to safeguard our peoples. Until then, be vigilant and may the Mother bless you.” His tone of finality immediately ended the meeting. 

Beron was the first to stand and leave, his wife trailing behind, but not before she looked over to where Lucien sat. Your own gaze followed and saw the glimpse of sorrow in the male’s deep russet right eye. You also didn’t miss the way Eris glanced over you once again. His smirk pulling at his split lip.

Rhysand and Feyre stood, along with the other remaining High Lords. “Helion, may we speak in private?”

Azriel was motionless, standing at the edge of the wooden table, until the room thinned. His knuckles white from the tension of the fists he held at his sides. He couldn’t believe he reacted in such a manner. The loss of control was unexpected. At least for him. Then again, he behaved just as unexpectedly during the High Lords meeting when Hybern was waging war against them. But that was in defense of his High Lady and this time it…was in defense of (Y/N). 

His thoughts drifted back to the beginning of the meeting. How his shadows skittered toward the wings of the hall where she stood waiting. He remembered how beams of light caught the chiffon layered around her like a memory of sunset—pale pink bleeding into peach and then to purple—and for a moment the rest of the room blurred around her. The beads at the hem shimmered from within, as if the first stars of dusk made a home inside her gown. He remembered how his eyes continued to scan over her as she peeked around the corner. His breath catching in his throat from the way the cinched bodice highlighted her natural curves. He had noted each and every detail. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek as he visually traced the graceful pull of fabric winding up the curve of her breasts and over her collarbone to anchor at the opposite shoulder. He immediately heard Ruhn’s drunken voice in his head, recounting just how perfect her breasts were and the illusion in his mind shattered.  

Azriel shook his head, ridding himself of the mental image. His desire wasn’t genuine. No, it had to merely be pent up frustrations. He had trained himself to keep a respectful distance from the woman. However, he couldn’t stop whatever draw he had towards her. No, not a draw towards her, he wanted to repair the damage he’d done to an innocent victim of circumstance. Yet when Eris’s voice slid across the room—sharp, hunting—remarking on her appearance, her humanness, emphasizing how she did not belong. Something in him rendered Eris’ words as violence. The way the statement attempted to brand her as a curiosity. He knew those same words would be burned into her mind for months to come. A confirmation of her fears that she doesn’t belong. Azriel was aware that she never said as much to him directly, but he had observed her reactions during outings with Nyx enough to recognize the loneliness of feeling like an outsider. 

Though with (Y/N)’s discovery of this prophecy he supposed she was less of an outsider than they all expected. He recalled the way the words landed like a stone in his gut. The way his hearing narrowed until all that remained were the edges of her voice—the cadence, the breath where the words lived. The line about celestial bodies and death’s shadow snapped a taut wire inside him. Prophecies were murky clouds obscuring the truth until it was already well underway. Bryce had already informed those of the Night Court of the prophecy from Midgard regarding Gwydion and Truth-Teller reuniting the Fae of both worlds. This one, though, settled differently. It was more convoluted with multiple ways to interpret its meaning. One thing that he did know was that (Y/N) would likely play more of a central role than anyone else would immediately recognize.  

Azriel continued to stand in the empty hall, cataloging his thoughts on how he might protect her moving forward. Her attire and manner in which she was present in the meeting was not happenstance. It was calculated. Eris’ comments pointed that out, and turned the intention around. He recognized, with a clarity that surprised him, that Eris’ taunts weren’t meant to distract. No, they were meant to drive the notion of truth home. Their world was changing, and the truth was (Y/N) did not need permission to exist within the courts. As an heir to the only true High Queen, she had a claim to a lost court, one that could even unite the others. However, she was human… 

Most of the High Fae, and even Lesser Fae, would never follow the guidance of a human. The Mother surely recognized that, after all, she somehow managed to guide events to ensure his High Lady and her sisters were Made fae. If the same were to happen to her…This prophecy could eventually rearrange the map, and Eris’s remark intentionally brought that knowledge to the forefront.

Azriel tensed as a surge of male instinct filled his stomach. He did not allow himself to name the feeling, nor dwell on what it meant. He only allowed recognition of what choices lay before him: stay close, watch for those who would gain profit by using the woman as leverage, and be ready to put himself in the line of fire. Literally and figuratively.

“Oi! Lap dog,” Eris’ voice echoed across the hall as he walked up to the Shadowsinger, “Your master is calling.” The male pointed over towards where Rhysand and Helion stood in a large archway. “I’m certain your skills will be useful in verifying the information I have regarding potential issues the human you so courageously defended may cause now that others are aware of her existence." Azriel’s eyes narrowed. 

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out,” the Autumn heir continued on his way towards the High Lords. Rhysand’s eyes continued to glance over Helion’s broad shoulder. He tucked in his wings and slowly donned the mask of Spy Master before following the trio towards the floor with the Night Court’s dedicated suite. 

Azriel's shadows slid ahead of him along the corridor, thin fingers of darkness that brushed the Night Court’s suite's jamb and drew back with echoes. From that seam of silence came fragments of the conversation already underway between his High Lord and Helion. Each beat of tension was a pinprick that heightened his senses. He let the shadows listen first, felt their small tremors translate into meaning before he allowed his feet to carry him closer; his breath hitched when he heard Helion mentioned (Y/N).

“Spare me your lectures, Rhysand,” Helion advised cooly. “You had originally come to me for assistance. This is just merely the fruits of that labor.” Azriel threw out an arm, halting Eris in his tracks. The shadows relayed every detail within the room. Light from an arch threw Helion’s shadow long across the floor, and the suite inhaled—silence stretched thin. Azriel's shoulder tightened; the shadows at his heels pulsed in time with the hush. 

Rhysand’s gaze held Helion’s, the question folded into a single, deliberate tone. “If the prophecy is to be believed, do you see the four of them fitting into those roles?” 

Helion paused, sunlight catching the edge of his mouth. “The prophecy names conditions, not individuals.”

“Conditions need individuals in order to be met. Their presence is not a simple coincidence, Helion. They’ve created a bridge. Bryce and Ruhn have clear blood ties to two of the seven existing courts. It’s even possible they would be what reconnects old power to the Prison, making it an eighth court.”

“You sound almost as paranoid as Beron,” Helion eyed Rhysand suspiciously. “What are you so afraid of?”  A slow, cautious anger pricked at Azriel. What had his brother become so afraid of? Surely, he couldn’t still be afraid of…

“(Y/N).” Rhysand’s voice was cold. Azriel pressed his palm flat against the cool stone, grounding himself as the sound of her name shifted the world out from under him. The image of (Y/N) standing in the hall wearing a gown derived from visual elements of multiple courts, hair and jewelry adding to an image that could all too easily be interpreted as one who could unite courts under a single ruler. His fingers tightened against the wall until the stone bit the skin.

“(Y/N) is mortal. She holds no magic.” Helion’s voice sounded just as defensive as Azriel felt. “Be honest with me, old friend, how is a mortal with no magic a threat?” 

“When Bryce first arrived, it was unexpected,” Rhysand began, “But she spoke the Old Language and she clearly had Fae features. We were able to gather information from her about where she came from and the danger her world possesses. That was not the case for (Y/N).”  A small, involuntary shudder raced through Azriel as the implications stacked. “I was there when she arrived in front of my home. There was a…spark of light, bright yet soft, like the moon’s glow. That aspect now makes sense with her being one of my distant kin. Bryce and her brother have Starlight, why wouldn’t another have aspects of the moon?” Azriel could feel Eris eye him wearily as they both stood outside the suite. 

“Rhys,” Helion’s voice softened as he placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“The Mother brought her here Helion,” the male whispered. “A human from a foreign world brought to ours…” Azriel felt the floor tilt, as if the weight of his brother’s words shifted the very balance beneath Prythian. 

“Then if there is to be a grand rearranging of the status quo, you and I must guide her,” Helion inclined his head, decision steady. “Guide where we can. Guard where we must. And prepare for the day those ‘celestial bodies’ choose their throne.”

 Azriel felt Eris’s burning amber gaze as he stood frozen at the door. 

“Well?” Eris hissed, chin inclining towards the scarred hand now wrapped around the handle. Az opened the door to the suite, his shoulders tight as Eris strode in, loose as a blade, behind him. The arrival of the Autumn heir shifted the gazes of the two High Lords. Rhysand’s jaw tightened, as Helion’s words settled like cooled coals. 

Eris walked over to a large chaise, sitting himself in one fluid motion.  The male’s smile was all teeth. “Are we so certain that these off-worlders are the ones that prophecy is about?”

Rhysand folded his arms, voice low and precise. “What rumors have you already heard, Eris?”

“I’ve heard nothing,” Eris continued to smirk.

Helion’s gaze flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris. “Yet you insinuate doubt. We have confirmation that the Daglan still exist and a pending arrival documented in a prophecy. Prophecy is—.”

Eris shrugged, casual but pointed. “Messy at best. Prophecies twist and break. I cast doubt because throwing titles and destiny at strangers from other worlds reshapes alliances. We do not want to risk the safety of our courts on a misread omen.”

Azriel’s voice cut in, quiet but firm. “She-they aren’t strangers.” Rhysand’s eyes met Azriel’s.

“You are right, Eris. Their presence will reshape alliances.” Rhys kept his tone measured; the shadows at his heels tightened like a leash. “But there has yet to be any indication that any of my kin, or their accomplices will be the ones to take over. So, we must all watch and guard ourselves so as not to hand over trust because it looks good on paper.”

Helion steepled his fingers, sunlight from an overhead arched window igniting the gold in his irises. “So, you would have us do what exactly?” 

Eris’s smile sharpened. “Have we considered that we’re misreading the players? What if the prophecy isn’t only about a unifier from off-world? What if it signals the loosening of more dangerous things?”

“I take it that you know what that more dangerous thing is.” Rhysand, to his credit, didn’t give off any level of surprise. Helion inclined his head slowly, his expression inscrutable beneath the lofty, Greek-inspired arches. 

“I do. As my father dealt with Briallyn, I was able to gain knowledge that, while fairly common on the Continent and Mortal lands, had been lost to us in Prythian.” He smirked. 

“As riveting as that sounds, Eris, make your point.” Helion advised.  

“The mortals of the continent pay homage to three Death Gods. Each one oversees a different aspect of death: one foresaw the manner in which one died, another carried out burial rites, and the last carried out the deed of reaping the souls the Mother marked for death. The belief is that the last one has earned the nickname of Death’s Shadow.” He let the idea hang, watching their faces for any fracture it made. Rhysand and Helion kept on their stone masks, not letting Beron’s prodigal son be preview to any surprise his knowledge may have arisen. “What if this isn’t simply a matter of the Daglan returning—what if their power is intertwined with Koschei being released from his lakeside prison?” 

“That is an interesting theory,” Rhysand mused. “Though, the mortals have it wrong. Koschei and his siblings aren’t those romanticized versions overseeing stages related to death. They were responsible for it. They fed off the life force of all living beings.” 

“Additionally, Koschei isn’t the only one in this world with that nickname,” Helion gave Rhysand a pointed look. “And as many of us know, prophecies should never be taken at face value. Death’s Shadow may not even be a direct name that one goes by.” Helion’s deep amber eyes shifted to Azriel. Az felt the muscles of his jaw clench. He recalled hearing of Hunt’s nickname on Midgard and the role he played. One that was similar to his own job. Hunting down and spying on enemies. Extracting truth from them, forcefully and painfully, if necessary. 

“I’ll concede there are many paths in which things can unfold,” Eris pulled out a dagger and picked at his nails, “However, if Koschei were to find a way to unbind himself, what would stop him from joining forces with the Daglan?”

“Who’s to say Koschei wouldn’t wipe the Daglan out?” Helion postured. “The Daglan, while powerful and immortal, only play at being gods. Koschei is a God. At least according to Rhysand.” The small group went silent as the air hummed with tension. Azriel glanced between the other males standing before him, his eyes landing on his High Lord. 

“Azriel,” Rhysand broke the silence. “I need you and Eris to work together to gather information on Koschei and any of his followers.” A muscle ticked in Azriel’s jaw and Eris smirked, but he nodded in agreement all the same.  

“Hm.” Eris let out a short chuckle and handed the dagger to Helion, hilt first. “Give this to my runt of a brother, won’t you?”

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @ronibartender @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

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@eomma-gom

[mirandasidefics]

This chapter is AMAZING

If u dont write another, im gonna make u a battle a aestri? If thats how u call that dangerous creature theyre afraid which is from midgard

Thank you!

I am still working on the next chapter and have a lot of future chapters already written as well. I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY. My updates are going to be a little slower though since I have started Graduate School.

As for fighting against the Asteri/Daglan...yeah, I wouldn't survive that fight...and then you'd really be SOL with it getting finished, lol

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere-Chapter 16

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Those from Midgard arrive in the Day Court and history is brought to the light.

Word Count: 5.4 K

Warnings: Mentions of sexual content, but no descriptions.

Author's Note: I really appreciate everyone sticking with this story. This is only about half of what I originally wanted to post for this chapter, but I wanted to get something out to you all as well. Grad School has started for me, and it is very fast paced. I am doing my best with writing for this and absolutely adore everyone that is still enjoying this story.

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @ronibartender for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 15 Next: Chapter 17

Ruhn felt like he was sinking, falling down into the cold darkness of shadows. No, not his shadows; it was a faint wispy black string emanating from his chest and pulling him down into the darkness. His stomach rolled and churned as he fell. Shards of ice sliced into his scarred tattoo covered chest. The sensation continued, even as his body came to a sudden stop. His feet hitting a cold and solid surface. 

An inky darkness surrounded him. The sound of a soft moan caused his head to shoot up. The sight that greeted him ripped the air out of his lungs. Cast in a single beam of light, stood a woman and a redheaded Fae male. Their lips frantically clashing together in a deep and passionate kiss. The two of them were so lost in each other, completely without a care for who may be watching. Ruhn couldn’t breathe as the light around the couple grew, their features highlighting their identities. 

Lucien’s tongue visibly delved into (Y/N)’s mouth, frantic and wild, as his large hand carefully cradled the back of her neck. Ruhn couldn’t breathe. Lungs burning, he tried to call out. Whatever sound that may have escaped had immediately died in the void keeping him shrouded. 

Soon the kiss shifted, the frenetic energy becoming tender and loving. A soft whine from Lucien was the only indication that he had learned what Ruhn already knew; that the woman tasted like heaven. The cold sting of possessive jealousy shot through him as Lucien’s hands moved down and tightened around her waist. He tried to step forward, but more black strings held him back. The other male’s hands continued to roam and explore (Y/N)’s body, squeezing her hips as she gasped with pleasure. The acidic tang of bile hit the back of his throat the second Ruhn saw her hands move towards Lucien’s waistband. He clawed at the invisible twines holding him back, his shouts lost in the darkness and the ground like an ocean beneath him not letting him gain any footing. 

The dark string at his chest, pulled taut, kept him rooted to the ground. He was completely paralyzed. Unable to move. Unable to interfere and stop her from seeking love and affection from someone other than himself. 

Ruhn knew he fucked up, practically throwing away any potential for a deeper connection with the human. A connection that he’d hoped would form as she worked to break through into the core of his very soul. Just like Daybright had…no, not Daybright. Lidia. It was Lidia he’d lost. He lost her after only being able to see a flicker of the female that she may have truly been. Unlike (Y/N). He had come to know (Y/N). How the fuck was he supposed stop himself from losing (Y/N) too? 

Ruhn remained frozen within the hidden shield of his shadows. His eyes burned while (Y/N) and Lucien continued to share their passion for each other. He tried to move his feet, the string at his chest yanking harshly. He knew what held him back; the memory of a female now long gone. One that gave her life for his. A female who he would have also died to protect. The string hummed the longer he thought of Lidia. He knew what that string represented. He knew fate had brought him and Lidia together the instant they made love in that dream-like state with the comcrystal. Stories and legends all warned that when fate steps in, nothing else compares.

But fate could also be cruel and certainly had other plans. Ruhn lost Lidia. Lost the ability to come to terms with her double agent status. Lost the ability to learn more about the female hidden beneath the persona of The Hind. His mate. The black string hummed in mocking confirmation, pulling him down into the darkness pooling at his ankles. He wondered if he would’ve ever come to terms with any of it, even if she had lived. Wondered if he’d be the stubborn ass he was and simply have shut out the feeling out of spite at all she’d done. To him… to his friends…to his family…

The frigid water felt like tiny needles. Thunder clapped around him and a sudden pain pierced through his chest. A large hole, dull and hollow, grew in the center. Exactly where Lidia had been shot when she leapt from the cliff to escape the pack of bloodhounds she once commanded.   

Ruhn didn’t even have a chance to mourn the shifter before (Y/N) walked into his life. The need to protect her was damn near instant and overwhelming as he took in the sight of her neck; red and raw from her own nails after a nightmare. The image was still clear in his mind. Despite her trauma, or maybe because of it, she showed a quiet resilience in her search for answers and adaptation to a new life.  

Bryce’s instant fondness only made Ruhn gravitate to the human more. Bryce never got to meet the version of Lidia in her role as Daybright. The version that he came to know.  He never voiced it out loud, but in his wildest dreams he wanted his female, his mate, and his sister to be like sisters themselves. He may never know if Bryce and Lidia would have ever been close, but with (Y/N) he didn’t have to wonder. He could hear the echoes of their laughter as the image of (Y/N) and Lucien shimmered. 

He screwed up any chance of actually getting to experience the life he only allowed the deepest recess of his heart to dream. Lidia’s name had slipped out so easily from his lips despite being pressed against the human’s. The string at the center of his chest lowered and expanded in width until a pitch dark canyon formed at his feet. He frantically looked for any way to cross to get to his… his what? What was (Y/N) to him? A lover? A friend? What right did he have to exert any claim on her heart? Not that it would make any difference when she found a way to return to her world. She wouldn’t stay with him given the chance to return home. 

Panic and regret washed over him. Heart pounding wildly as the image of  Lucien and (Y/N) stripping each other naked grew more passionate. Ruhn willed his body to move, to separate them as Lucien freed her breasts from the confines of her sundress. The redhead’s large hands immediately giving them the proper attention that Ruhn knew she deserved. He watched her (e/c) eyes roll back as Lucien took a nipple into his mouth. He watched pleasure take over her features and her hands thread through Lucien’s deep red locks when (Y/N)'s words landed on Ruhn. A soft smile and blush graced her cheeks, “He knows my name.” Her voice sounded sweet, yet had a cruel teasing lilt. The statement echoed inside his mind, over and over.  

“Ruhn?” He ignored the soft feminine voice behind him. His attention solely on the couple making love in front of him. He was completely frozen as the canyon snapped back into a thin black string yanking him off balance. “Ruhn!” The voice kept calling but he ignored it, his focus solely on stopping the atrocity before him.

“Ruhn?” Ruhn awoke with a start, sitting up straight as he frantically looked around. The bedroom he shared with (Y/N) slowly filled his vision. He hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep after returning to the townhouse a few hours ago. Turning his head he found the last person he expected to be in the room standing above him. 

“What the fuck, Lucien?” Ruhn rubbed at his face, his heart rate slowing down. He slowly made his way to the edge of his side of the bed, his back towards the male. The afternoon sun filtered in through the sheer white curtain. 

“It’s (Y/N),” Ruhn immediately perked up at the frightened tone in Lucien’s voice. “She-You need to come with me.”

“What happened?” He demanded, eyes landing on the Starsword as it leaned against a chair. “Where is she?” He searched for his boots, panic almost setting in before he remembered they were at the entrance of the foyer on the ground level. A little behavioral habit that he picked up from living with (Y/N) for so long.  

“The Day Court. Are the others here?” Lucien asked, not bothering to provide any specific information.  Ruhn simply nodded his head as he sheathed the sword in the holster he often strapped to his back. “Good, get them and bring them outside.” The two males made their way out into the hall, Lucien sparing no time for greetings or explanations as he bounded down the staircase. 

“Bryce! Hunt!” Ruhn called out, his mind only focused on getting to (Y/N) as quickly as possible. His sister poked her head out from the spare room she and Hunt occasionally stayed in at the townhouse. 

“Why the fuck are you yelling, Ruhn?”  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her feet padded against the wooden floor. 

“Something’s happened,” Ruhn’s voice was clipped. The other male already on the bottom floor. “Lucien wants us to go with him to the Day Court.” Hunt exited the room behind Bryce, pulling a shirt over his head and wings. The two shared a look as Ruhn quickly made his way down the stairs. 

“Is that the-” Hunt started, but Ruhn cut him off with a shout. 

“I don’t give a shit what Rhysand says!” He continued down until he reached the bottom landing. “I won’t abandon her if she needs me.” 

Lucien paced back and forth on the small wooden platform in the back garden of the townhouse. He knew Helion would not harm (Y/N), even if he was furious at the omission of the real reasons they wanted access to the information held inside the libraries. The High Lord of Day had truly come to care for the woman, almost like a daughter. The access to the libraries, the room within the High Lord’s personal primary residence, the clothing, all of it! His generosity had long stopped being a simple favor to Rhysand. Helion accepted her unconditionally. He saw that Helion came to know the woman’s heart, even if their initial meeting was based upon a hidden truth. Lucien swallowed hard, recalling every instance that truth was withheld over the past five years.

He could only hope that Helion’s trust in them wasn’t completely shattered. Gods, what had he done? Leaving her just like that? With an angry High Lord. Not that Helion’s command gave him much choice in the matter but Lucien had always prided himself in his self control. He knew that it was a matter of time before the High Lord asked questions or uncovered the truth of the woman’s heritage. Their cover—“a distant human kin seeking her roots”—had held far longer than it should have. While it wasn’t unheard of for Fae males to sire children with human females, it was incredibly rare. They had all assumed the ruse was holding well since Helion never once commented or spoken about it. At least not until Helion mentioned scents... 

Fae scents were typically unique to the individual. Only on a few occasions would there be similarities between relatives. So the fact that Helion was able to identify a familial scent between Rhysand and Ruhn took him by surprise. The High Lord never made a similar comment regarding (Y/N)’s own scent. He couldn’t help but wonder if Helion had known all along that she wasn’t fully of this world.  

“Let’s go,” Lucien didn’t bother to look behind him as the three Midgardians entered the backyard. Lucien winnowed them to the Day Court library. The massive surge of magic left his veins hollow with only spare dregs of his power in its natural reserves. The room pulsed, but Lucien was still able to see Helion standing over (Y/N). The High Lord of Day’s large frame appeared to loom over her, casting her into shadow. For the briefest of moments it almost appeared as if the shadows formed a protective circle around her. Lucien strained his ears, hoping to pick up any sound from the weighted conversation between Helion and the human. 

Lucien saw that her once sparkling eyes were now red-rimmed. In that moment, his heart clenched as memories of past dangers and unsaid promises surged within him, reinforcing every vow he’d made to keep her safe. Out of the corner of his deep amber eye, he saw Ruhn push his way forward, making a direct path towards the woman. 

"Are you okay?" Ruhn asked, his voice rough with concern. He inserted himself between her and the High Lord. She managed a small smile, placing a hand on his arm to calm him.

"I’m fine. Just…” She took a steadying breath, wiping the lingering wetness from her eyes as they met with Ruhn’s, “Just explaining to Helion how I arrived in Prythian." Despite the softness of her voice, her words carried a hidden weight. Bryce’s gaze darted to Helion, her lips parting to speak. Before whatever snarky comment she was about to hurl in defense of her friend, Hunt placed a hand on her shoulder, his gray wings rustling as one settled around his mate’s back. Lucien felt something pull at the center of his chest, averting his own gaze as quickly as possible. 

The older male looked over each member of this new group, his usually sun-warm eyes now feeling like hard sandstone. (Y/N) straightened her shoulders, eyes landing on the High Lord. An air of confidence took over her expression as Ruhn’s hand settled on her lower back. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Lucien?” He’d never heard the High Lord sound so cold.

“Bryce Quinlan, Hunt Athalar, and Ruhn Danann,” Lucien declared, extending his arm as if unveiling treasures. “May I present the High Lord of the Day Court, Helion Spellclever.” As uneasy glances passed between Bryce and Hunt, Helion casually gestured for them to take seats at the table (Y/N) had set up for her research, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. Helion sat himself in the wooden chair next to the woman, the action forcing both Ruhn and Lucien to find seats elsewhere. The Autumn male wished for nothing more than to have the ability to reassure her. To speak into her mind, or tug on a- he stopped his thoughts as guilt filled his stomach.

“It’s okay guys,” (Y/N) reassured the group. “He needs to know so he can help. Everything…” She took a shaky but steading breath. “Everything has become so much bigger than we could have imagined.” Bryce again looked at her brother and mate. 

With a deep exhale, Bryce sat herself in a chair across from Helion, leaning on her forearms, “What do you know of High Queen Theia?” 

Helion shook his head, “Not much I’m afraid. When High King Fionn died she disappeared and the land chose seven High Lords in place of a single ruling body.” Bryce nodded before she began her recount every detail from the chaos of her arrival in the Night Court, to the insane forgotten history of the High Queen and her court, to the Daglan that slept beneath the decaying surface of the land that became the Prison.

Hunt swore under his breath. "You didn’t tell me that you had come up against an Asteri when you were first here.” Bryce merely shrugged him off. 

“Azriel and Nesta were with me,” She clarified in a nonchalant tone; though, her eyes betrayed the gravity of her words. “Honestly, Nesta was the one that cut off its head. Which was likely only possible because it had been in a weakened state.” Hunt just stared at her, lips slightly pursed. Bryce continued with her recount, filling Helion in on the history of the Asteri’s rule in Midgard and how the Fae evolved after being separated from their home world. Lucien listened alongside the High Lord. Most of this information he had not even been made aware of.  

When Bryce was finished, Helion leaned back in his seat. “That is quite the story.” His expression remained serious. “Fantastical even.” Helion’s gaze landed on the large blade along Ruhn’s back. “But you have the lost sword with you…” He continued to study the group for a moment longer before his attention returned to (Y/N) next to him. 

“There is something that doesn’t quite fit,” He stated. “Ms. Quinlan has a tie to this world through her heritage. So it begs the question as to how you are connected to this world, my dear.” 

Lucien saw the woman’s shoulders stiffen. That was the very question that had been on everyone’s mind since her arrival. 

“I…” (Y/N) swallowed. “That’s the exact question I am trying to find out. That's why we asked to visit the libraries. To see if there was any connection.”

“And what exactly have you discovered?” His eyes traveled over to the scroll still on the table before her. The entire group followed his gaze. She remained silent for a long time. Confliction and uncertainty scrunching up her features. Her eyes drifted away from the group, but once they landed on Lucien’s once again the furrow of her brows relaxed. 

“The name of this planet, Alfheim” She returned her eyes to the High Lord. “And the name of their planet, Midgard. They are both names of realms that were known to one of the ancient cultures on my planet. I don’t believe that is simply a coincidence. I think…I believe that there was a group of Fae that traveled from Alfheim to Midgard, and then to my world.” She took another deep breath. 

“You didn’t reach that conclusion from names of planets alone,” Bryce’s voice was matter of fact. (Y/N) shook her head. 

“Ruhn’s surname, Danaan,” She looked up towards the ceiling, eyes blinking rapidly. “It’s the name of an ancient race of magical beings called the ‘Tuatha De Danann’. They arrived through the mists on a small island on my planet. As time went on they were revered as Gods for the magic and knowledge they wielded. Through the rise of the Christian religion and persecution of anyone that followed the old ways, it was rumored that the Tuatha De Danann fled and merged into the hills of Ireland. During the era in which I lived, they are often referred to as Fairies.”

The room went quiet. The silence after her admission was as thick as smoke. Even the wind outside came to a stand still. You hadn’t voiced your knowledge and recognition of Ruhn’s name to anyone. The information had been a lot for you to even come to terms with. You carefully ran your fingers along the frayed edges of the papyrus that laid before you, its ancient ink gleaming under the golden glow of the low afternoon sunlight bouncing off various reflective discs scattered throughout the space. The weight of its contents pressed against you, a whisper from the past carried into the present.

“This scroll,” You cleared your throat. “It talks about Alfheim, this planet. I think this is the original story of how the world was created,” You explained, looking up at Helion. “It’s how Alfheim was created prior to Prythian’s worship of The Mother.” 

“Alfheim…” Bryce leaned forward, studying the script carefully. "Can I take a better look?" she murmured, fingers tracing over the Latin, her brows knitting in concentration. She glanced at you, the gears in her mind turning as she pieced together fragments of meaning. 

“I can only understand bits and pieces of the text.” You continued to explain. “It seems to be made up of sections that have been translated over and over again. There’s also an image…” You shifted in your seat and pointed to the middle of the scroll. A simplified illustration sprawled across from one edge to the other. 

Helion, watching with a sharp gaze, stiffened suddenly. He exhaled through his nose, his golden eyes flickering with recognition. "I’ve seen this before." You turned toward him, eyes wide. His expression remained unreadable. "It's carved into the wall of one of the front chambers. A mural of sorts, created long before the High Lords came to rule over the courts."

“Can you show us?” Bryce asked. Helion nodded, standing up from his seat and motioning for the group to follow. 

The High Lord guided you all down the expansive walkway before he began to wind through the rows of massive shelving units. Your eyes drifted up and down the shelves. Scrolls filled the shelves precariously stacked on top of each other. The stacks of scrolls were then replaced by boxes, then books and tombs of various sizes. At the end of the hall Helion lead you through a small corridor. The passage was narrow with small strands of the setting sun’s light streaming through the windows near the ceiling.

The corridor soon opened up to a large chamber with plain colored walls. Scattered throughout the chamber various artifacts rested on pedestals. The first day of your visit to the library, which was more like a museum than a library, Helion and one of the local caretakers took you on a tour. There were numerous chambers just like this one. Each filled with artifacts that transitioned from one time period to the next. Behind you, Bryce’s footsteps slowed periodically. No doubt her eyes caught a few items that she found of interest.     

Finally, Helion rounded another corner into a massive open air chamber. On the far wall, an  ancient mural stretched from the floor to the top of the vaulted ceiling. The air hummed as your group gathered before the great carving, the stone worn but defiant against time.  It wasn’t what you had expected. Deep etched images with bright vibrant colors. You hadn’t ever seen anything like it in museums in your world. You recognized the same configuration of lines from the scroll twisting along the sides and top of the frieze, weaving around the entire mural like an unbroken thread of fate. The various figures carved into the rock felt eerily familiar. 

The worn stone told a story; three distinct scenes woven seamlessly together, yet their meanings were still veiled in mystery. Your eyes traced the first scene—a sunlit field alive with movement. Seven figures graced the landscape, each bearing a striking characteristic of an elemental force. One figure's skin bore the rich, earthen hue of deep clay, as solid and timeless as the Earth itself. Another shone with a brisk, blazing radiance, almost incandescent with the warmth and power of the Sun. A third figure, draped in silver and mystery, evoked the quiet, reflective glow of the Moon. A fourth moved fluidly, their form suggesting the graceful ebb and flow of Water. The fifth was airy and untamed, their lightness echoing the ceaseless expanse of the Sky. The sixth was shrouded in an enigmatic darkness that both concealed and revealed, capturing the essence of Darkness. Finally, a lone feminine figure etched with arcane symbols, stood gazing upon the other six. 

Before your eyes, the narrative shifted. The pastoral beauty of the seven figures, clearly now representations of the elements making up the various aspects of this world, giving way to an empty field. A single jagged line near the top of the image seemed to buzz with an energy the longer you stared. A rift! 

The panel that followed continued to shift, the image darkened as the mural revealed three figures with an unmistakable air of death. Their forms were pallid and austere, cloaked in a somber stillness. The subtle, skeletal lines and the bowed posture of these figures spoke of endings and the finality that shadows all beginnings. A stark reminder of death’s inevitable role in the cyclic dance of existence.

The rift appeared again, this time with eight figures standing below. The figures arranged themselves as points on an otherworldly compass, radiating an unmistakable stellar glow. Their contours were crisp and angular, each figure exuding a brilliance reminiscent of scattered starlight. A visual echo of the cosmos itself. You felt your pulse accelerate as recognition sparked. The eight pointed star on Bryce’s chest, the same eight pointed star on Nesta’s back…

In a culminating tableau, the same seven elemental figures reappeared—this time encircling a colossal, enigmatic object. The exact object was difficult to decipher, the erosion of time having softened the details. But something about it felt important—almost sacred. A part of you, deep within, knew that it was the Cauldron that stood at the center, vast and inscrutable. The surface of the stone image was worn by time yet managed to captivate the hidden power that seemed to bridge creation and dissolution. That’s when it clicked. The text wasn’t just listing off the ingredients for making worlds. This tableau was proof of something much greater that had been entirely lost. What the Mother had put into the Cauldron to create Prythian were not simple ingredients for creating existence. They were deities themselves. They made the cauldron what it was. 

Your eyes scanned along the mural’s expanse, returning to the configuration of eight glowing figures. The Asteri, or more accurately the Daglan as they were known here. Suddenly the text on the scroll made sense. The image showed the arrival of the Daglan on Alfheim. 

“Star gods,” You reached towards the image, fingers hovering in reverence. You quickly turned toward the next group as realization overcame your senses. The other three figures were clearly depictions of the Death Gods also mentioned. What was the connection between each of these groups? In all of the other myths about the Mother and the creation of Prythian, there had been no mention of the Daglan. Nor had there been any mention of Death Gods.Yet here they were, carved into stone. 

Walking towards the opposite end of the large mural you hoped the final panel would provide some indication as to the meaning of the writing that surrounded the images. Only you were met with disappointment. The final details on the last tableau had faded into oblivion. You swore under your breath. The same information was missing on the scroll. 

Bryce’s fingers hovered lightly above the carved stone. "All these details…each of  these characters have such vivid and intricate details. The style is extremely sophisticated, too refined for something less than 1000 years old.” Bryce walked along the large expanse of panels. 

“You’re a curator?” Helion looked at the half Fae female. Bryce nodded, eyes still assessing every inch of stone. 

“Sort of, I worked for a…collector of sorts. A lot of what I know was learned on the job.” Her honeyed eyes left the frieze. “These images are even more detailed than the tunnels. How long ago was this museum built?” 

“To be honest I’m not entirely certain,” He mused, taking a few steps closer, eying the same panel as Bryce. 

“There’s almost something…familiar about this." She exchanged a glance with you. “I need to see that scroll again.” Before anyone else could respond, she took off sprinting back to the scroll room. The others followed suit, running after her with that Fae swiftness. Hunt was the only one that really bothered to keep pace with you. By the time you and Hunt arrived Bryce was furiously writing on the scrap piece of paper you had used for your own notes. 

"This...this part here,” the half-fae female didn’t bother looking up from her task. “It’s talking about the land. Specifically land being restored…" An eerie grin spread across her lips. “Any barren landscapes come to mind for you guys too?” 

“The Prison,” Lucien breathed. “If that truly was the High King and Queen’s seat of power…”

Ruhn studied the fragmented carving, something unreadable in his expression. "Didn’t the Prison become that waste land because of Silene?” Bryce hummed in response. 

“I always interpreted her message to mean that she used magic to corrupt the land,” Bryce continued. “But what if all she did was remove the magic that naturally existed there? That energetic void would need to be filled.” 

“And thanks to the Asteri in the basement, that void was filled,” Hunt finished for her. 

“So if Silene’s bloodline removed that magic, it makes sense that her bloodline would need to restore that magic,” You added. “Rhysand fits that bill…”

“As does he,” Helion nodded his chin towards Ruhn. Speculation churned through the group like a rising tide.  Ruhn was tied to restoring that magic. 

“Then my sister does as well,” Ruhn immediately deflected. “Besides, she has more of Theia’s starlight power than I do. Especially after what happened on Avallen.” 

“Wait, what happened on Avallen?” Your eyes immediately shot to Ruhn. He merely shook his head, an indication that he would fill you in later. 

“Now is not the time to withhold any information youngling,” Helion’s eyes remained hard. Both Hunt and Bryce snorted in trying to hold back a laugh. Bryce cleared her throat as her brother shot her an angry look. You supposed that compared to the rest of the males in the immediate vicinity Ruhn was the youngest at 80 years old. 

 “Queen Theia hid her Starlight power in the Starsword. Helena then hid that in Pelias’ tomb in the catacombs. I claimed it…right before I killed dear old uncle Morven.” Bryce explained. 

“Holy shit, Bryce…” Your eyes grew wide. 

“We have a handle on it (Y/N),” Bryce added quickly. “The Asteri will be held off by someone that knows how to deal with them.” Her tone was more of a warning to drop the subject. 

You huffed, eyeing her before giving in. Nodding you looked at the next line. “Do you know what ‘non alligatur’ could translate too?”  

“It could mean unbound or unchained.” Her gaze lingered for a moment, “ It depends on the words surrounding it. Flynn would be able to provide a more accurate translation.”

“Flynn?” Her brother asked. 

“Yeah, he’s more than just a pretty face,” Bryce smirked. “Turns out he remembers a lot more than expected from his ancient language studies in childhood.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to suggest Flynn come here?” Ruhn sighed. 

“What a wonderful suggestion dear brother,” Bryce batted her lashes with a mocking grin. Hunt merely chuckled. 

“You walked into that one,” He rested a hand on the back of the chair Bryce sat in.  

“Cum mortis umbra non alligatur.” You looked at Hunt, specifically to the tattooed crown winding over his brow. “When death’s shadow is unchained…” Your eyes widened as realization settled in your gut. Bryce nodded in silent agreement. 

“Hunt may be tied to this too,” Her own voice was soft, but she managed to compose herself long enough to the final part of the inscription. “Corpora caelestia coniungunt ad novos imbres—that roughly translates as ‘the celestial bodies bring new rains’.”

“Wait…this isn’t just an account of how the world was created. This is a prophecy.” You whispered. “When magic returns to the earth, and when death’s shadow is unchained, celestial bodies will bring new rain.” For a long, lingering moment, the two of you sat in contemplative silence as the ancient words and the secret they carried wove together their hearts with an uncertain hope. Outside, as the night deepened, the promise of change—both celestial and deeply personal—hung in the air. Their arrival in the world was indeed greater than then all could have anticipated. Ruhn and Hunt’s destinies were entwined with a long forgotten prophecy. 

“How does this all tie together?” Bryce mused more to herself. “Is this a warning about the Asteri returning?”

“That is your world’s name for the Daglan, correct? If this is somehow tied to their return to power,” Helion let out a slow breath, “then this is beyond any single court." His words settled over them, heavy with meaning. "I’ll be calling a meeting of the High Lords," Helion declared, his voice steady, final. "Two weeks from now, in the Day Court. If the Daglan truly are returning...we can’t afford to face this divided."

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @ronibartender @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella @julesvanslutta @whyucloudingmymind @fussel9913 @anuttellaa

[ronibartender]

Tell me what you need

Summary: (Y/N) is a killer AUX agent. When her friend Bryce and boss Ruhn Danaan get tapped to investigate two pieces of the same puzzle she wants in. But that may mean she needs to face more demons than she signed up for.

PS: takes place during CC1

Disclaimer: I give no rights for my work to be replicated, adapted, translated or used for any means. If you have questions please feel free to message me. This chapter is heavily based on the original text. I want this story to feel like you as a reader is truly being transported into the book. All rights reserved to SJM and her team.

A special thanks to @mirandasidefics for supporting me in posting my first fics. She also writes for ACOTAR so go check out her work!

(The next day at the White Raven)

Reader’s POV

(Y/N) was on the receiving end of Bryce’s wrath that night. Bryce had walked into the White Raven, set on meeting Juniper but once she found (Y/N) in the crowd she dragged the female to the restrooms. Bryce had somehow found out Michah was the angel she’d saved the night Daika died … and (Y/N) knew all about it.

“It was confidential.” (Y/N) explained, staring at the redhead’s damning expression, “I only knew because I was listed as his emergency contact, once he healed he made me sign an NDA.” Bryce was silent, anger, a boiling pot within her.

The redhead turned to the sink, washed her hands, splashing water up her arms, looking at (Y/N) through the mirror, “whatever.” She walked back out into the bustling club, (Y/N) trailing as she made her way to a table. The two females sat at a small booth tucked into the back. Bryce ordered a glass of water and sat there waiting for June. The tension between them was palpable as they sat in silence. It didn’t take long for Bryce’s attention to divert from the female next to her and towards the entrance of the club as Hunt Athalar walked right past the huge line waiting to get in, through the doors and right to their table. The club stalled a few heartbeats, all patrons taking in their fill of the Umbra Mortis.

Bryce’s gaze pinned him as he walked up to their table; her glare burned a metaphorical hole through his head. (Y/N) followed her line of sight and instantly knew he had been the one to reveal that the half-fae saved Micha… and now she had her own bone to pick with him. Before the male could even sit down, Juniper arrived, ”I- I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”

“He was just leaving,” Bryce answered, glaring daggers at Athalar who took that look as an invitation to slide right into the booth, putting (Y/N) between himself and Bryce. She ignored them as they started to verbally assault each other.

Hunt Athalar was a hot, sexy bundle of muscles with long onyx hair and smouldering eyes but he was such a massive ass! Here he was, judging Bryce and assuming a million things about her and her lifestyle and who she was without even trying to get to know her as more than what was spat at her in the streets. Hunt had been nice enough to (Y/N), but she was a skilled agent. He respected her work and her abilities but he didn’t know anything about her. They’d met briefly during work; the AUX and the 33rd didn’t usually choose to work together on anything, but sometimes they’d share cases. (Y/N) could count on one hand how many words she’d shared with Hunt Athalar before he became Bryce’s shadow and they were all relatively pleasant. From what she could tell, Hunt did his job; no more, no less. He didn’t show up to work wanting to make friends or make the best of a shitty situation. Though she couldn’t blame him, she probably wouldn’t be too cheery either if she were a slave.

Besides briefly daydreaming about his muscles, (Y/N) didn’t waste any time thinking about Hunt Athalar, or any male for that matter. But it wasn’t until recently, when he’d been commanded to protect Bryce, that she’d realized what kind of a person he was. Bryce played into what the world thought of her; slutty party girl gone crazy… but Hunt Athalar treated her like a down right idiot. She’d listened for hours as Bryce told her how Hunt had underestimated and undermined her or simply ignored things she said. And now seeing it first hand as he treated her like an alcoholic, depressed, “party girl.” Assuming she came here to drown her sorrows, when she’d only come to see a friend.

Were all males truly like this? It couldn’t be true. (Y/N) stayed quiet, letting herself give in to the rhythm of the club music… She'd grown up with stories about true love where males talked about the females they love as if they’d hung the stars. Micah had been like that at the beginning; showing her off and talking about how amazing she was. When she went to a work event with him for the first time they’d all known about her and just had to see if everything Micah had told them was true.

She still missed him sometimes, he was good in bed and he had the capacity to be kind. She didn’t know what’d happened. One day things just started changing; there was less eye contact, forgotten dates, scrolling through his phone as she talked about things she was passionate about… looking back, it all felt like individual nails in the coffin of their dying love.Then suddenly date nights were being canceled entirely and he was out later than he needed to be. She found herself feeling like little more than a body to him. All his touches now had sexual intent; no sweet caresses or stolen kisses. She started overworking herself to get away from the negative thoughts about their story coming to an end. But that end came the night he sat her down and told her he was bored with their current relationship. He wanted to make it an open one. Ha! She’d shown him the door.

She was tired. So, so tired…Hunt nudged her, bringing her mind back to reality. A waiter had arrived at their booth, clearly waiting for their order — she looked around the booth, all eyes on her — just her order then. She quickly skimmed the menu and put in an order of fries. The waiter then walks away with a nod and a promise to return with their food soon.

(Y/N) watched as Athalar took Bryce’s glass away, finally figuring out it was just water. “I don’t drink,” she said. (Y/N) found herself still sitting there awkwardly as Bryce and Hunt had another verbal altercation. Everything was relatively ‘fine’ until Bryce got up, “I’m going to the bathroom,” and yanked (Y/N) so hard out of her seat she yelped, pushing June out of the other end of the booth and pulling them towards the restrooms.

As (Y/N)’s wrist was being squeezed so hard she could feel her hand go numb, a slight change in the atmosphere caught her attention. Males and females alike turning, even if briefly, acknowledging the presence of a force to reckoned with; similar as to when Hunt had walked into the bustling club.

And then she saw Ruhn fucking Danaan walking in, his eyes somehow finding hers and their little group with a predator’s ease before noticing Hunt and striding over to their table. She looked at him for all of a second before turning to look at June as if she was the most interesting thing in the world. Standing about ten feet from the table, she could feel his eyes on her, felt a shiver run down her spine as a chill caressed her skin. But even a second of eye contact with the prince had been too long; Bryce caught the action, following the direction (Y/N) had looked away from. Bryce Quinlan could freeze Hel with that look, the one that said, ‘are you keeping tabs on me, asshole?’ She let go of (Y/N)’s arm and strode toward the males, June hot on her heels. (Y/N) didn’t even get a chance to finish rolling her eyes before a large boom sounded and she was shot back, hitting her head hard as she landed on the marble floors; unconscious.

Bryce’s POV

Bryce threw herself on top of June, twisting, reaching for her friend, to protect her and shield her. She couldn’t do it again; loose another friend. Bryce would rather die herself! She landed on top of Juniper, shielding her from the blast, keeping her eyes open long enough to watch (Y/N) go flying and hit her head as she crashed to the floor.

Ringing. Painful, sharp ringing making her ears tingle at the tips with the aftermath of the sound, as if they were tuning forks; still vibrating after being tapped, deafening everything else.

“Get up,” Bryce felt Hunt’s hands on her shoulder, thrashing against him to reach for Juniper but stopping once she saw Ruhn helping the fawn onto her hooves; she was fine.

She was fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine…

(Y/N).

Bryce spun around, eyes scanning the destroyed club for the female that had been right by her side mere seconds ago. (Y/N)... (Y/N)... where the fuck was (Y/N)? Out of the corner of her eyes she caught June politely shooing Ruhn off, allowing him to rush towards a pile of debris. Bryce barely registered June’s mouth moving and could barely hear her yelling as she watched her brother. June slapped her across the face. Bryce’s head swung but she turned in time to see Ruhn standing stunned by a body, Bryce didn’t have the will to stop Hunt as he carried her out of the club.

Ruhn’s POV

Ruhn’s ears were ringing so loud it was painful, he gritted his teeth. Once he’d looked Juniper over and deemed her fine he practically threw his house key at Athalar, rambling off his address, far closer than Bryce’s apartment. “Wait for me there,” he told the angel then ran towards a pile of debris where he could sense the vibration of a shrill scream, his ears were still hollowed out from the blast, still drowning out most things, but that sound was of pure and utter pain. He found (Y/N) under a beam that had collapsed, her arms shaking as she held broken pieces of the ceiling up and away from her face; her bloodied face… gods she looked gruesome. Ruhn carefully started removing the debris threatening to crush her whole. As soon as the weight was gone her arms fell to the ground, still shaking with exhaustion from the effort. His eyes looked over her, scanning for any other injuries. And then he saw it; her leg was pinned, crushed under the beam that had fallen.

“No…” the word a blaring siren in his mind. He went to call Athalar but saw him leaving with a very shaken Bryce. Fuck it. He’d do it alone. He got into position to lift the rounded beam, holding it at its length but as soon as he tried to lift it, it rolled and he felt that vibration again, of her screaming. He realized that even if he could lift it (Y/N)’s current mental state would never allow her to move out from under it on her own. Ruhn tried to lift it vertically, positioning himself at the head of the beam; where it had detached from the ceiling. The beam budged and Ruhn grunted as he pushed it atop another pile of debris.

From her foot to mid thigh there was only blood, bone and gore. Her leg was destroyed; skin and muscle flattened, bones jutting out. Ruhn couldn't hear it over his afflicted ears, but it was clear she was delirious, her mouth open in pained moans. How had she not passed out from the pain? Ruhn wished she had as he picked her up. He wished he didn’t hear the world shattering scream that made its way past the ringing in his ear with every fraction of movement. He wished he didn’t feel how her nails dug into his arm and shoulder as her leg swung while he carried her out.

There were ambulances everywhere, that was never a good sign. In a city mostly populated by Vanir even one ambulance meant it was worse than they imagined, it was almost a rare sight, so much so that they were considered bad omens amongst certain groups. Ruhn didn’t want to even think about how many people had been hurt if they were here… how many had died. He went straight to one and stepped in, placing (Y/N) on the bed inside. A young healer, probably still in training by how old she looked, was just about to kick him out until she saw (Y/N)’s state, calling her colleagues to rush them away. Ruhn held her hand, a pang in his chest as she moaned out in pain. He used his free hand to caress the hair off her forehead, the drying blood caking on her scalp. “It’s gonna be ok! It’s gonna be ok.” He'd killed before. Had to, being head of the AUX came with that burden. But right now Ruhn found himself unable to breathe. He’d never seen any of his friends or family like this; in this kind of pain. It made him feel queasy inside. More than that, Ruhn felt dizzy, the wave of nausea that hit him was worse than any hang over he’d ever had. He swallowed down a mouthful of vomit and kept going telling her everything was going to be alright, not sure if even he believed it.

(Y/N) was a strong female, stubborn as Bryce if not more so and seeing her like this… something in him twisted and thrashed and shattered the longer he looked upon her.

Once they arrived at the hospital they took her to surgery, they’d probably have to use medicine and magic to make her whole again. Ruhn prayed to any gods listening that she would recover. That night he received a call from an unknown number and picked up against his better judgement. “Hello?”

“Hey…” Bryce sounded tired.

“Hey… where are you calling from?”

“I lost my phone at the club, Hunt let me borrow his I-” her voice broke, “is she ok? Is she ok, Ruhn? I- I saw you going to her and I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t move. Athalar practically carried me the entire way home…” He’d never seen Bryce break like this, not since that fight they had all those years ago… but she was only a child then.

“She’s been in surgery for almost six hours now, they said they’d let me see her when she’s out and in recovery… they won’t give me any status updates or when to expect her to be out of surgery. But they said to stay optimistic; all major organs are still functioning.”

He heard her trying to steady her breathing on the other side of the phone, “good...good. I’ll come by tomorrow, just-” another breath, “keep me updated? Text this number with any news.”

“You got it, Bryce. Are you ok?”

She snorted, “I’m fine. Apparently Athalar is a mother hen.” That made Ruhn chuckle, he hated Athalar’s guts but if he was being forced by Micah to keep his sister safe then he’d take it. Bryce yawned on her end, “food is here… keep me updated. Night.”

“Night, Bryce,” he hung up the phone, sighing and putting his head in his hands. Out of all the shit that’d gone down today, at least Bryce was talking to him. She had called him for fucks sake, even if it was for (Y/N). He hated his father for wrecking their relationship, and hated that he let it happen. Ruhn rubbed his forearms where tattoos now covered most of the burn scars, feeling them prickling at the memories of all the times he did try to defy his father… by the time Bryce came into the picture, he had no fight left.

(The next morning)

“You’re not gonna like this…” Ruhn’s greeting wasn’t warm by any means as he approached Bryce and Hunt in the waiting room of the hospital, but the situation was more serious than he’d initially thought. Hunt prompted Ruhn to continue as they walked down to where (Y/N) was being held. ‘Held,’ because he knew if it were up to her she’d be home. Ruhn practically held her down when she woke up that morning and stopped her from ripping out her IV.

After shooting down Athalar’s idea that Briggs may be involved, Ruhn told them about the logo; how it looked like a horn.“All signs point to the human rebels. The bomb was smuggled into the club through some new exploding liquid hidden in a delivery of wine. They left a calling card on the crate; their own logo.”

He paused outside of (Y/N)’s room, turning to Bryce with a serious expression as he informed her that the Autumn King found out he had involved her in his hunt for the horn and now required her to have a body guard 24/7. The speed with which Bryce shot down the idea of having him stay with her hurt Ruhn in a sensitive spot he usually forgot he had; when she was quick to accept Hunt fucking Athalar as her fierce protector, that spot felt like a twist in his gut.

“Does he know (Y/N)’s involved?” She asked.

“No…. I- I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything about her,” Bryce sighed at his answer. Seemingly satisfied she strode into the room (Y/N) was recovering in, taking no time to embrace the female in the hospital bed.

Ruhn still had to school his face into neutrality as he laid eyes on her. Despite having had watched her all night he couldn’t stand the sight of her; split lip, stapled scalp, stitches above her brow and by her hairline near her left ear. Green and purple blotches of bruises all over her face, arms and he was sure they only got worse under the hospital gown. The doctors had told him they had to administer copious amounts of healing ointments and other magic to refuse her broken bones. Many of which had to be rebroken several times because they’d fused incorrectly. Her muscles had finally stabilized enough for her to keep the limb. At one point in the middle of the night they asked him if he would consider allowing them to amputate the limb, allowing her body to grow a new one. Ruhn had yelled at them, telling them he’d pay whatever was necessary but that they’d put her back together that same night or else.

Her leg still looked bruised and she was wearing a brace; the sleek skin and defined muscle tone gone. He stared at it until he dozed off at some point, waking up to alarming beeps coming from the machines she was connected to when she started yanking wires off. He’d kept her from standing and convinced her to stay, on the condition that they wouldn’t attach her to anything and that she wouldn’t stay more than another day. He’d convince her to stay another day if needed but he took what he could get.

He watched as the two females hugged each other; their shoulders shaking with their sobs. He nodded for Hunt to step out and give the girls some privacy. The males went to the cafeteria where Ruhn told Hunt everything his team from the Aux had found, showing him the camera footage  they recovered.

Bryce’s POV

Bryce was over two hours late for work when she got a call from Jessiba asking of her whereabouts. She texted Ruhn from Hunt’s phone, telling the males to get their asses back to (Y/N)’s room and that she needed to go. Once the two males walked in, she wasted no time, “Why were you at the Raven yesterday?” She asked Ruhn. Making sure she had Hunt’s phone and her keys.

Ruhn hesitated, “I wanna check out your boss’ library.”

(Y/N), Bryce and Hunt put on the most confused and innocent faces, “what library?” Bryce mused.

“The one everyone says is beneath the gallery,” Ruhn said, matter of factly.

“First I’ve heard of it,” Hunt offered, innocently.

“Fuck off, Athalar,” Ruhn rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. (Y/N) remained quiet; no quips or comments. Bryce made a point of giving him a hard time. “I want to look at the books there,” Ruhn pushed. “To see if anything about the horn jumps out.” Was he… pulling rank, with that tone? “I’ve been through the Fae archives twice and just kept thinking about the gallery. So maybe there’s something there.”

“I searched it twice, there’s nothing in there about the horn beyond vague mentions,” Bryce sighed, tired.

Ruhn smirked and she wanted to punch his teeth out, “so you admit there’s a library?” Bryce frowned but then smirked.

She offered Ruhn a bargain; access to the library for Declan Emmet’s tech knowledge. Ruhn accepted, easily. Bryce and Hunt left soon after, Bryce kissing (Y/N)’s head and promising to come by later.

Ruhn’s POV

“Tell your daddy we say ‘hello!’” Bryce smiled and then scowled, “and that he can go fuck himself,” she closed the door. They were alone again, but she was more awake now… more alert. Aware of what happened and what he did and yet, she was quiet. He hadn’t seen her this quiet since she decided to stop speaking to him entirely, less than a week after he started avoiding her calls and texts after overlooking her for a higher position at the AUX. Ruhn was lost; he had no idea what to say.

“Uh… do you need anything?”

“I’m fine,” she answered nonchalantly, “bored as Hel but fine.”

Ruhn’s phone rang and he answered without checking the caller ID, “yeah?” He tensed at his father’s voice on the other end.

“Is that how you speak to your king? Since you couldn’t stop yourself from revealing my business I wish to make one thing clear regarding the horn; I don’t want the angels getting it.”

“Fine,” he replied through gritted teeth. If he got his hands on that damn horn he’d make sure it went back to the temple, and he sure wasn’t above paying for 24/7 guards himself if it meant his father didn’t touch it. Ruhn turned away from (Y/N) for a moment, facing the large window in her room.

“Keep an eye on that girl.”

“Both eyes.”

“I mean it, boy.”

“So do I.”

“You, as crowned prince, revealed the secrets of your king to the girl and Athalar. I have every right to punish you for this, you know?” Ruhn let himself remember past punishments; his forearms prickling. Then he let himself fantasize about how he’d love to be stripped of that title; Crowned Prince. How he wanted to break every tie with his father. Then the Oracle’s words echoed in his mind…

The royal bloodline shall end with you, Prince

His shoulders tensed and his shadows swirled, "Unfortunately, the punishment you deserve would render you unable to look for the horn.”

“I’ll take a rain check then,” his father grunted out a sigh and Ruhn hung up.

(Y/N) gave him a moment to take in what was obviously a tense and overall unpleasant conversation. He could feel her eyes on him. Once his shadows had calmed, she asked, “everything ok?”

“Peachy,” he didn’t turn to look at her, “I need some air.”

“Hey! What about me? You made me stay here and now you’re leaving? If I have to stay here, so do you. If you walk out that door for something other than the bathroom, I'm leaving AMA!”

Ruhn curled his knuckles, tensing every muscle in his body, counted to five then relaxed them, “fine.” He opened the window as much as it would go and sat by it. “You know what? No,” he got up, “this couch is uncomfortable, move over.” He sat on the hospital bed and kicked his shoes off, laying next to her.

“Hey!” She growled at him but he ignored her, fidgeting with the tv remote.

They spent the day like that; watching tv, playing cards and snapping at each other. They tried not to talk about the bombing, about what was happening in this city but they kept wandering back to it as more updates pinged on their phones, mostly Ruhn’s since Dec and Flynn were investigating and giving him a play by play. Ruhn forced (Y/N) to eat both lunch and dinner, she claimed hospital food was horrid and that she wasn’t hungry but Ruhn knew just the thing. He had Dec drop off some food from her favorite restaurant, he’d hopped it was still her favorite, and she’d torn into it just like he’d hoped she would. Like he used to watch her do…

A nurse came in to help her use the bathroom throughout the day and then at night to help her shower. She showered sitting down but was just glad to get to rinse off from everything that’s happened. As they were getting ready to go to sleep a healer walked in, a tall blonde male.

“I’m sorry about the late hour, I just got out of surgery and my shift is over but, I wanted to see how you were doing.” He proceeded to do a few checks on her, having her sit and moving her leg around. Then having her lay on her back as he pushed her leg up against her chest. Ruhn looked away most of the time; something about her being touched that way, bent that way, didn’t sit right with him. “Would you be comfortable sleeping with the brace off?”

“Yes, please!” (Y/N) smiled.

The doctor chuckled at her enthusiasm, “don’t put weight on it until I come see you in the morning. If you need help using the restroom, call for staff or ask your friend.” He gestured to Ruhn.

(Y/N) looked ready to tell the healer they were not friends when Ruhn spoke up, “I’ve got her, she’s stubborn but she’ll do anything to get out of here as soon as possible. Any chance we can leave tomorrow?”

The healer thought about it for a moment, “if she does well with the assessment tomorrow and promises to attend physical therapy everyday for a week after discharge then… I’ll make it happen.”

The look of relief on (Y/N)’s face was bliss.

Ruhn took her ankle in his hand, her leg had healed beautifully; not a scar in sight. He knelt before her as she sat on the bed, legs dangling off the gurney. He gently held her ankle, still examining it. He liked how it felt to hold her ankle; intimate. He looked up at her through his lashes.

“Yes?” She asked, brow raised.

“Nothing…” he rasped.

“Spit it out Danaan. I’m not staying here another day.” She crossed her arms but Ruhn didn’t respond.

After a minute he looked down at her leg again, moving it side to side, “this hurt?” She shook her head, “this?” He asked, stretching her leg. Another head shake. He lifted her leg up towards her chest, “and this?”

“Shouldn’t a recovery healer be doing this?”

“You declined further intervention.”

“Fuck off.”

Ruhn sighed and let her leg relax, still kneeling before her and still holding onto her ankle.

He was frustrated… in more ways than one. Ruhn looked up at her again and slowly, so slowly, kissed her ankle, never breaking eye contact.

“What are you doing?” His grip tightened as she jerked her leg on instinct from the contact of his lips to her skin. He kissed higher. “Ruhn?!” He kissed her calf, “Ruhn!” He closed his eyes and kissed above her knee, “Ruhn…” her voice became breathless and he kissed her mid thigh. He was so close, so close to tasting her; he’d fantasized about it before, when they were close. He kept kissing up her thigh until—

“RUHN?” Her voice was whiny, “RUHN!”

Ruhn opened his eyes as he feels a sharp jab to the ribs, “you’re squishing me! Move your butt.” She elbows him in the ribs again, “if you keep rolling onto me I’ll make you go back to the couch.” She was half asleep and no less demanding than when she was awake. Ruhn rolled over on his side so his back was facing her. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths; trying to ignore her scent in his nose and the hard on in his pants.

Reader’s POV

Her leg felt fine, albeit sore. The healer put different pressures on several different spots and walked her through some strengthening exercises, “so… when can I be discharged, again?”

“I have my staff prepping the paperwork right now,” he put her leg back down and helped her stand; first only on her good leg, then slowly putting weight on the other. “Steady?”

“Yep!” she bounced lightly from foot to foot, making the healer cringe a bit.

“No running or carrying anything heavy until our follow up next week,” he gave her a piece of paper, “this is where you’ll go for physical therapy. I know this seems like I’m trying to prolong your recovery but I just want to make sure there’s nothing wrong. There were extensive repairs done to your leg, if there are any kinks, it’s best to catch them early and fix them before they cause any damage.”

(Y/N) sighed but nodded, “I understand.”

As if on cue, the female who’d helped her void and bathe walked in with a stack of paperwork and a bag, “a Flynn dropped some clothes off for you?” she posed the sentence as a question, as if making sure she knew about it or at least the person who’d brought it in.

“Yes, thank you,” she looked to Ruhn then and let a small smile grace her face. He’d gotten her clean clothes.

In less than 30 minutes she was walking out of the hospital in a brand new outfit, when Ruhn put a hand on her shoulder, “what?!”

“Bryce is on the phone, she wants to talk to you. She’s on the other side of the facility trying to check in and they told her you checked out.”

(Y/N) groaned and took the phone, continuing to walk, her gait uneven, “I got discharged and I cannot go back in there, can you meet at the coffee shop down the street? I’ll buy you the biggest latte.”

Silence. And then, “I was going to yell at you for not letting me know that you got discharged but a latte is worth forgiving for. See you there.”

“Is your sexy shadow still with you?” (Y/N) smirked, knowing Athalar could probably hear her even without fae hearing. She was sure Ruhn could hear as he huffed out a grunt and (probably) rolled his eyes.

Bryce replied, “is prince ‘stick-up-his-ass’ still following you around like a puppy?”

“More like a stalker, but yeah.”

Bryce snorted, “this will be fun.”

“See you soon,”

“See ya!” Bryce hung up and (Y/N) pressed Ruhn’s phone into his chest, letting him fumble for it as she let it go and walked towards the coffee shop.

Ruhn cleared his throat as he caught up to her, “I thought you swore off males after Micah.”

“What?”

“I remember you telling me that you swore of dating after ‘wasting a decade on Micah,’” Ruhn air quoted.

“And you’re bringing this up because…?”

He shrugged, “you said Athalar was…” the word was like poison to him, she smirked waiting for him to finish, “sexy.”

(Y/N) weighed her options: she could wave him off or gush over Athalar to gauge his reaction. Her choice? Secret option number three, “I can look at the menu, I just can’t order. And Athalar looks fucking delicious.” The comment was worth it by the disgusted look on Ruhn’s face alone, his shudder was an added bonus.

Ruhn didn’t say anything else until they arrived at the coffee shop, only speaking to place his order which (Y/N) definitely did not notice was still the same.

She greeted Bryce with a large latte with lots of whipped cream and caramel which caused the redhead to squeal and hug her before going all ‘mother hen’ and checking her over from head to toe. “Are you actually ok?”

(Y/N) sighed and nodded, “good as new. I’ve got some PT to do and these staples come out in a few days,” she gestures to her head, “but I should be cleared for everything by next week. I’m just glad to be out of that damn hospital. And as of this second, Ruhn can get off my ass.”

“You’re the one who said, ‘if I have to stay here, so do you. If you walk out that door for something other than the bathroom, I'm leaving AMA!’” Ruhn said in a high pitched voice.

“Is that supposed to be me? I don’t sound like that.”

“Annoying and whiney? Yes you do. And I spent two days in that damn hospital for you, a little less hostility would be nice. Maybe a ‘thank you’ kiss?” He smirks, leaning in and tapping his cheek with a finger.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, counting to ten.

“Wow,” Bryce chuckled, “she hasn’t had to count to ten like that since we had that fucking physics professor when she started taking night classes at CCU.”

(Y/N) started counting from the top. Nice, deep breaths.

Ruhn’s POV

Bryce wasted no time looping her arm through (Y/N)’s and waltzing out of the coffee shop, leaving Ruhn to walk with Athalar. If walking about three steps ahead of the angel while they both did their best to ignore one another, counted as ‘walking together.’

The library hidden beneath the gallery made even his father’s personal collection laughable.

“So… Prince,” Lehabah batted her fiery eyelashes, “did all your piercings hurt?” (Y/N) held in a laugh, making the sprite flash pink.

“Uh…yeah? Kinda. I’ve got a high tolerance for pain, I’d say. So it wasn’t too bad.” He sat down at the large table, Bryce typing on her laptop and Athalar flipping through an old tome. (Y/N) made her way towards the doll-sized fainting couch Lehabah was now laying on, leaning on the desk and looking over the sprite’s shoulder at the screen playing some sort of romantic show.

“So, you gonna look around or sit there and gawk?” Bryce snorted, Hunt tried to hold in a snicker.

Ruhn glared at the winged male, “what are you doing?”

“Researching the Krystallos. I’ve killed about a dozen type 6 demons over the centuries and I want to see if there are any similarities.”

“Is the Krystallos a type 6?”

“I’m assuming it is; type 7 is only for the princes themselves, and given what this thing can do? I bet it could be deemed a 6. I haven’t seen any similarities though.”

Bryce then came up with the idea to look for the Krystallos in ancient art, fingers flying over her keyboard. He had to admit it, his sister was smart. He’d always known it but Ruhn couldn’t recall telling it to her face even once. He watched as she continued to type, laser focused, before turning it to Hunt, who started looking through the results.

Lehabah sighed from her little couch and looked to Ruhn, “I’ve never met a prince before…” her voice, breathy and flirty.

“Shhhh!” (Y/N) shushed the sprite, seemingly invested on that show. Was that moaning?

“They’re overrated,” Ruhn answered.

“SHHHHH!”

Lehabah looked ready to swoon as she asked, “what’s it like? To be the chosen one?”

“Boring. Beyond the star sword and some party tricks… there’s not much to it.”

“Can I see the star sword?”

“I left it at home. I didn’t feel like having to deal with tourists stopping me on every block waiting to take pictures.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Poor little prince,” Bryce said in a baby voice, to which Athalar hummed, pleased.

“You got something to say, Athalar?!”

“She said it all,” the calm and swagger in the angel’s voice made Ruhn’s blood boil a few degrees higher and he growled. (Y/N), seemingly tired of not being able to focus on her show, went to browse one of the shelves.

“What’s the deal with you two?” Bryce asked.

“Oh! Do tell!” Lehabah paused her show, seemingly more interested in the answer to Bryce’s question.

“What?” Ruhn asked, “(Y/N) and I?”

Bryce smirked, "she's more my friend now than she was yours. If you think I don’t know what happened then you’re dumber than I thought. I meant you two!” She pointed between him and the angel. Ruhn didn’t know how he felt about anyone knowing about his history with (Y/N), especially his sister.

“We beat the shit out of each other at a party. Danaan’s still sore about it,” Hunt answered.

“Why’d you fight?” Bryce’s shit eating grin grew as she asked.

“Because he’s an arrogant asshole!”

“Likewise,” Hunt retorted, his grin matching Bryce’s.

Bryce looked to Lehabah, “boys and their pissing contests.”

“Not nearly as advanced as us ladies,” Lehabah winked.

Both males rolled their eyes.

“Well cousin, have at it. Let your star-born powers guide you to enlightenment.”

“Funny,” but Ruhn went to the shelves, and it didn’t take long for him to become aware of the fact that (Y/N) was moving with him. Well, opposite him was more like it. He moved right, she moved left, as if trying to keep a maximum distance between them at all times in the circular library.

Reader’s POV

(Y/N) was too aware of the prince’s presence for her own liking. It wasn’t for a while until she finally noticed that she’d been moving opposite him. She took a deep breath and went behind a few more shelves and started looking at the books. What was she even looking for?! She was an agent, yes. But demons? And what about Bryce? What did her friend know about any of this? She had a bad feeling in her gut and she couldn’t place it. Maybe the bombing had shaken her more than she wanted to admit but she’d never back down from a case…. Ever. Especially not this one.

A book rattled over her head and she backed up, straight into Ruhn’s chest. “Sorry…” he was on his way to get a ladder when the tome fluttered off the shelf, onto (Y/N)’s head and landed on the floor with a loud thunk!

“Is everything ok over there?” Bryce called out, “please do not get me fired!”

“Everything’s fine!” (Y/N) answered and walked away before Ruhn finished picking up the green tome. She kept walking, scanning the books, wandering further and further from the others and deeper into the library.

“You sure that start-born power isn’t for finding smut?” She heard Bryce laugh, telling the sprite it sounded like something she’d read. Lehabah was not well pleased.

“Enjoy,” Hunt teased.

“I will!” Ruhn said defensively.

(Y/N) then got out of ear shot. She realized she’d made it back to the stairs that lead up to the gallery and to the exit. She sighed, pondering if she should just leave. She didn’t feel like being here, not at all. She wanted to go home and have a proper shower. Wear her own clothes, not mall bought stuff that was a near miss on her size. She wanted to lay down and process the last three days. She wanted a lot of things… mostly to be alone for a while.

She stared at the dimly lit steps as she zoned out.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her back from her zoned out state. “(Y/N)?” She jumped away from Ruhn, “sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. What’s your email?”

She lifted a brow, “you have my email.”

“No. I have your work email. I don’t want information about this case to be linked to the AUX. It’s too easy to track.”

“And you think someone will ping it?”

“We’re not exactly advertising the fact that Bryce was tasked to look for the horn,” he sounded frustrated.

“Or that your daddy’s making you his sniffer dog,” she smirked.

“Can you stop being a bitch and give me your email?!” He regretted the words she knew. He startled himself as he said them; his eyes going wide, regret swirling within them.

Before he could apologize she rattled off her email and walked away, “trained mongrel,” she threw over her shoulder. She sat next to Bryce, across from Hunt, pulling out an old laptop Bryce kept at the gallery as a back up and scanning the list of Danika’s whereabouts that Ruhn had sent her.

Ruhn parked his ass in the chair next to hers.

(Hours later)

“Any good sex scenes yet?” Bryce asked the prince. He didn’t answer, “Ruhn?”

“Danaan!” Hunt called out… nothing.

(Y/N) gave his shoulder a soft smack to which the prince finally lifted his head. He went on to explain his findings about Theia and Lady Helena and their connection to Pelias and the Horn.

“Does it tell us how to fix it?” (Y/N) cut his rambling short, “the history of it all is useless if it’s broken and can’t be fixed. Why would someone want a broken relic? Besides your daddy of course,” she smirked.

Ruhn growled, low, “would you let me finish?” (Y/N) shrugged, “as I was saying; it says that’s why the Prince of the Pitt had to steal Pelias’ blood to make the Krystallos to hunt the horn. It contained that essence. I think the horn could be wielded by any of them though.”

Hunt lifted a single dark eyebrow, “but if the Prince of the Pitt had gotten his hands on the horn, he wouldn’t be able to use it unless he had a star-born fae to operate it… even if whoever’s looking for the horn now finds it, they’d have to use you.”

Ruhn hummed, “but let’s not forget that whoever is summoning the demon to track the horn and kill these people doesn’t have the horn. Someone else stole it. So essentially we’re looking for two different people; the killer and whoever has the horn.”

“Well, the horn is broken anyway,” Bryce commented.

“Permanent broken, apparently,” he tapped the book, “it says here that once it was cracked, the fae claimed it could only be repaired by ‘light that is not light. Magic that is not magic.’ Basically a convoluted way of saying ‘there’s no chance in Hel of it ever working again!’”

(Y/N) responded sarcastically, “so when I asked you if it told us how to fix it, you could’ve just said ‘no’ instead of growling like an alphahole.”

“A what?” Ruhn asked.

“Possessive and aggressive. The ladies here use the term to describe males who are ready to get into a fight at any moment, know how to kill people in more than one way and who are so good looking that females are falling over themselves for them.” Athalar gave Bryce a smirk to which she rolled her eyes at. “Did I get it?”

“That is not how I described it,” she said.

“Oh right!” Hunt continued, “I forgot the part about how we ‘alpha-holes’ go into a ‘mating frenzy,’ whatever that means, once we ‘finally bang a female’ and refuse to let her have a life,” he looked to Bryce, “did I get that part right, sweetheart?”

“Close enough,” Bryce caved, then growled, “and don’t call me sweetheart.”

Ruhn glanced between the two and then to (Y/N), “wait. So what I’m hearing is that you find me good looking?” He smirked.

She took a moment to look him over, “it’s not a prerequisite to be an alphahole but sure, you’re a generically attractive male. You’d have to be, to make up for the fact that you’ve got nothing going on upstairs… or down.”

“How would you know?!” He growled.

“The upstairs part? Because I work with you. The downstairs part…” her smirk was ferral, “females talk; I guess all that mirthroot makes you sleepy. So sleepy that you can’t even finish your job.”

Ruhn growled, ready to give her a retort when Bryce cut in, “can we please get back to the horn now?” (Y/N) kept her eyes on Ruhn but she could practically hear the eye roll in Bryce’s tone. She didn’t look away from Ruhn; smirking at his glowering face like children in a staring contest.

Hunt complied, “We need to find out why someone would want it, the horn. Your father wants it for what? Some fae PR campaign about the ‘good old days of fae-dom?”

“Basically, yeah.” Ruhn caved and looked away first, “the fae have been declining, according to him, for the past several thousand years. He claims our ancestors could burn entire forests to ash with half a thought, while he could torch a grove and not much more. It drives him nuts that my chosen one powers are not much more than a kernel” Ruhn offered.

“My own father never had a lick of interest in me for the same reason,” (Y/N) knew Bryce didn’t like talking about her father. Knew it was a sore spot, so she offered her friend a gentle look. I’m here, Bryce, it said. And I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.

“Especially after your visit to the Oracle,” Ruhn commented.

Hunt lifted his brows at Bryce and she answered his stare.

“It’s a long story.” she pulled the book Ruhn was reading over to herself and skimmed a few pages, “this whole section is about your fancy Avallen cousins. Shadow walking, mind reading… I’m surprised they don’t claim they’re starborn”

“They wish they were, they’re a bunch of pricks” Ruhn huffed.

(Y/N) vaguely recalled him, Flynn and Dec telling her about their ordeal. “No mind reading for you?” Bryce asked.

“It’s mind speaking and it has nothing to do with the star born stuff, or this case”

“What if we ask the Oracle about the horn?” Hunt “maybe she can see why someone would want a broken relic.”

“We’d be better off going to the mystics” Bryce strained, (Y/N) and Ruhn followed.

“The mystics are some dark, fucked up shit. We’ll try the Oracle first,” Hunt pressed.

“Well I’m not going” Bryce decided, crossing her arms.

“Because of what happened at your visit?”

“Right,” she gave Athalar a big, toothy, fake smile.

“You go then” Ruhn suggested, a little more heated than he probably intended. (Y/N) tried to hide her smirk, knowing his rising ire was partially her doing.

“You had a bad experience too, Danaan?”

“…yeah.”

“(Y/N)?” Hunt asked.

“No, thank you,” she gave him an innocent little smile.

“Fine assholes, I’ll go. I’ve never been. It always seemed too gimmicky.”

“You’ll need an appointment,” the female beside her pointed out.

Hunt’s phone rang, “I’ve gotta take this,” he walked up the stairs and out of the library and then out of the gallery.

(Y/N) gathered her things, “I’ve got an AUX meeting this afternoon, but I’ll touch base later ok?” She kissed Bryce’s head, “if Athalar is being a dick shoot me an email and I’ll come over with pizza and we can watch that male stripper movie at top volume.”

“I’ve gotta head over to prepare for the meeting too, I’ll walk with you,” Ruhn offered, standing.

“I’m not going directly there, I’m taking the long way.”

“Oh… errands?” He asked.

“No,” she replied in a tone that made her reasons for taking a different route very clear.

Ruhn sat back down and (Y/N) walked out the same way Athalar had.

Ruhn’s POV

Ruhn watched (Y/N)’s hips sway as she climbed the steps.

“She never talks about it; what happened between you,” Bryce says, causing Ruhn to sigh and rub his temples. “Well… at least not after she vented that first time.”

“She never talks about it with me either.” And for a moment, Ruhn wished she would. He wished they could work all of this out and cut the tension. The dream he’d had at the hospital still floated around his head. He’d kept her at a distance, he shouldn’t complain about her doing the same, he concluded.

Reader’s POV

A cluster of AUX members, in uniform, undercover outfits and stealth suits filled the room, coffee cups and notepads in hand. Some alert, some half-asleep but the air hummed with low chatter.

At the front, Tristan Flynn takes the podium, Ruhn being late, as always. Flynn slams a folder onto the podium and the room quiets. “Morning, people. Sit tight—no donuts until I’m done,” he points at a squad leader who’s about to take an enormous bite from a jelly filled doughnut, “I see you, Janice.” He brings his focus back to the center of the room, “we’ve got a mixed bag today, so listen close.” He flips open the folder, scanning the contents inside. (Y/N) rolls her eyes, Flynn does this often. As Ruhn’s right hand he takes the lead when Ruhn can’t, which would be fine if it was a rare occurrence. Ruhn Danaan is chronically late, not five minutes late, but twenty to an hour. This meeting for example? She’d been sitting there thirty two minutes before Flynn finally decided to get things moving. If Ruhn were anyone else, he’d been thrown off his fragile AUX throne a long time ago, she knew.

“Alright. Task one—Detectives Vega and Monroe. You’re going in the field at The Raven, they’re removing debris and we need to make sure that if anything important gets uncovered we’re the first to know. Red Squad is going undercover at Duke’s. Now that The Raven is gone, other clubs will fill up, Duke’s is the next most popular. Narcotics tip-off says they’re funneling product through the kitchen staff, more buisness means more clients, better chance for us to catch them. Janice? Try not to let your rookie blow your cover in the first ten minutes this time.”

The rookie, Nox raises his hand and Flynn points to him, “That hostess was very convincing.” Nox flashes a lady killer smile and the room chuckles. Flynn shoots him a look.

“Convince her on your own time. Moving on,” he flips another sheet. “Patrol Officers—” before Flynn can finish the door is swung open in a careless manner, Ruhn pauses as he walks in, only long enough to notice all the heads have whipped towards him. He clears his throat and goes to the podium. There’s a hushed conversation that not even Fae ears can pick up before Flynn points to the pages resting on the podium and leaves to take a seat next to Dec.

“Patrol Officers, Kim and Alvarez—you’re on traffic control in the Central Business District,” Ruhn starts. “Big tech conference this week. Every CEO with an ego the size of a blimp is in town. Keep traffic flowing and make sure no one double-parks their Bentley. There are two road closures for this event so keep them closed and keep things moving. Take your teams with you, if you need more people give me a ring.”

“So, babysitting millionaires’ toys. Got it,” Kim jokes, Alvarez winks and answers.

“More like babysitting the teens going for joy rides while rich daddy is in a meeting,” the room chuckles.

Ruhn chuckles too, despite himself, then adds, “Smile while you do it. Cameras are everywhere,” he flips another page. “Detective Shaw. You’ve got the missing persons case. Twenty-year-old college kid, last seen outside the subway station. Family’s raising hell, media’s sniffing around. Handle it quietly, but fast.”

Shaw raises his hand, “could this be connected to all these murders happening?” (Y/N) tensed and she could see Ruhn calculating his response.

“No. We’ve determined that this is a separate case. Whoever is committing those murders is leaving the remains behind, as long as we test it we know who the victim was. We’ve tested all remains and got pings on all of them, this college kid was not a victim.”

Shaw nods, “on it, Chief.”

Ruhn closes the file with a snap and looks at the room, avoiding (Y/N)’s gaze. He hasn’t assigned her yet… “And for the rest of the squads; Blue and Yellow—yes, we still have a string of bike thefts in the park. Don’t roll your eyes, Jenkins, I saw that. The commissioner’s nephew lost his precious mountain bike yesterday, so suddenly it’s a priority.”

Jenkins laughs, “great. I’ll stake out the jungle gym.”

More laughter erupts and Ruhn lets it ride for a beat. “Alright, enough comedy hour. Undercover work, missing persons, traffic wars, and yes, bikes. You’ve got your marching orders. Don’t screw them up. If you didn’t get an assignment continue working on the one you have. And remember, half the city thinks we’re heroes, half thinks we’re villains. Let’s prove the first half right.” Ruhn then opens the file one last time and reads something on the page, “(Y/N),” she straightens, his eyes finally landing on her, “parking duty, Old Square. DISMISSED!” He grabs his coffee and turns to leave, weaving through officers and going out the same door he came in. Flynn and Dec follow close behind.

The officers and detectives give her a sideways glance then scatter, some energized, some groaning but all making their way to the coffees and doughnuts. All except for (Y/N), she stands up and follows the Frat Pack, catching the door behind them before it can even shut. The door leads to the stairs connecting all the floors, she looks over the railing to see the three males practically jumping over the flights of stairs, already two levels down. She attaches her retractable hook and cable to the railing and jumps down, swinging so she lands at the bottom of the steps four levels down. The males stop in their tracks, one flight of stairs between her and them. “DANNAN!” She yells and retracts her hook, the cable retracting back into her belt.

Dec goes down the stairs, “that’s all you, Ruhn. Hi (Y/N),” he dips his head as he passes her, continuing the long walk down.

Flynn chuckles and claps Ruhn's shoulder before following Dec, “good luck.” He bows to (Y/N), “scary lady,” and moves past her but her eyes remain on Ruhn.

“Parking duty?!”

“I have a good reason.”

“PARKING. DUTY.”

“(Y/N)-“

“PARKING DUTY?!”

Ruhn descends the steps and goes to put his hands on her shoulders but she backs away on instinct. “You asked to be in on a big case. A case the AUX doesn’t even know we’re on! I needed to give you a cover.”

“Parking duty?” She growls and crosses her arms, not believing the audacity of this male. She’d known him and his friends had bull shit cases to cover up bigger ones but never something as degrading. Parking duty was given to agents who misbehaved or to rookies they didn’t have a place for yet. Putting her on parking duty was a bigger slap in the face than what he’d done at the club all those years ago. Bigger than getting passed as his right hand.

“Yes. Parking duty. It’s simple and safe and no one will bat an eye.”

“Except they did! They all looked at me but you were too busy trying to leave to notice! They gave me the ‘what did she do,’ look. Parking duty is degrading and you did it on purpose!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ruhn raises his voice, getting defensive.

“You want me to feel small. You did it to undermine me, AGAIN!”

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? Just a little?”

“NO!”

“I’m tired of pretending that everything is fine. Everything is not fine.” She sighs, exasperated, “I never thought I’d say this to my boss but- I deserve more. I deserve better; better pay, better status, better title. I deserve more respect than you can probably muster for me. And I’m sick and tired of lying over the wire and letting everyone else crawl over me!”

“Can you just calm down a sec? I do respect you-”

“No you don’t!”

“And you’re a good agent.”

“I’m a great agent, Ruhn.”

“If you’re upset about your pay then we can go to my office and talk about that. I know the holiday bonus wasn’t that big last year but that’s because the city cut some funding, I’m working on it. And you’re still healing! You shouldn’t even be on a case!” He reasoned but it was nothing more than an excuse.

(Y/N) just stared at him, at those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to stir with purple hues. She looked at him, really looked at him. Probably for the first time since that night. And she saw… she felt… nothing. There was nothing there. Well, there was longing and lust and maybe even something that could’ve been love but… it was nothing. He’d never be the male she wanted. Much less the male she needed. Ruhn Dannan, Crowned Prince of the Valbaran Fae didn’t have the balls to step up and be that male. So it was time that he sat down. Time he got out of line. Time she let him go.

“I don’t need a raise.”

“Then tell me what need!”

She looked down and shook her head, “I quit,” she fished her AUX ID from her belt along with her badge, holding them both out to him.

Ruhn’s POV

She couldn’t be serious, could she? Quitting over parking duty?

Ruhn supposed it was quite degrading, especially to an officer of her ranking. Even if she had done something wrong he’d probably give her paperwork, not public humiliation. He’d never make the guys wear that ridiculous bright pink vest, he didn’t know why he’d done it. When he’d decided it, he truly believed it was a good cover, it’s not like they had any other cases to hide behind right now. Maybe he should’ve thought about it longer, made something up…

“Take it.”

He realized he’d been frozen, that he hadn’t spoken in a while. Long enough for her to interject his thoughts. When Ruhn did try to speak though, nothing came out. What could he say? Nothing that could make this better, that’s for sure. He knew (Y/N) well enough to know she was a stubborn creature, that once she made up her mind there was nothing stopping her. And he also knew that she didn’t do things on a whim; her moves and decisions were calculated. If she was quitting then she’d been thinking about it for a long time. “You just got back to work…” sure. That sounded good enough. But the female before him kept her gaze at his chest, hand stretched out, holding her ID and badge. “We need you, ok? You’re a fucking amazing agent. If you leave I’ll need at least three people to fill your role.”

Her gaze turned to him again, sad, but decided, “that’s not my problem.” Then she let the badge and ID drop to the floor and descended another floor, walking through the door, probably to take the elevator at the front of the building.

Ruhn stood there, frozen for several moments before cursing and punching the wall, it cracked, only slightly. The bigger crack came from his hand. He cursed event more colorfully and picked up (Y/N)’s things with his left hand, pocketing them and going down to meet Dec and Flynn.

Shit…

[mirandasidefics]

One day im gonna be teleported to ACOTAR where war has finished and obv i am friends w a high lord + got a accomodation

I'm going to be enjoy my life everyday without being annoyed by people and having to socialize and get to experience magic. I'm probably going to feel bored soon but atleast it'll be fun for a bit. But atleast I wont have to work 24/7 hours just for a minimum wage salary.

I can also become a criminal who steals and be a very cool criminal with magic. Sure I'm human but witch magic exists, fae exists and etc which makes it funner

It is a fantasy world so you could do whatever you wanted! Live your dreams when and where you can.

[mirandasidefics]

Just wanted to let you know that I love and enjoy your stories so so much! I am hooked on the Ruhn/reader/Lucien story and I swear every single month there are days when it just won’t leave my mind, weeks after I’ve read a new update 🥹 and then you post again I get so so happy and a new wave of falling into the world you made comes. I’m so grateful you keep writing and I have a story to look forward to 🥹 thank you! 🤍

Thank you so much! That is so sweet!

I absolutely love writing this story. The dynamics between all of the characters has been so much fun to explore. I have some really cool ideas and a lot of exposition stuff coming up in the next chapter. So I hope that the next installment is worth the wait.

I know that my updates in between chapters are getting longer and longer, but that is partly because....I started Graduate School! 😎🥳

I will be setting aside some dedicated time to continue working on this story, but the updates will likely be every other month as that has become the new pattern of when I can get things completed. I am nearly finished with Chapter 16 and there will be some special visuals that accompany it!

[works-of-heart]

Redoing a picture I did of Lucien last year. I thought it would be fun to see how different it looks now. Also, Lucien described in leathers, with a ponytail down his back, blood splattered on his face, was the hottest thing in ACOTAR series hands down.

[ronibartender]

Out of my mind

Summery: Part 2 of “Out Of My Control”

Disclaimer: I give no rights for my work to be replicated, adapted, translated or used for any means. If you have questions please feel free to message me.

A special thanks to @mirandasidefics for inspiring me with her own writing and her book theories that are just as unhinged as my own. Go read her fics on her page, they are amazing!

Reader POV

My apartment has never felt so quiet. Quiet enough that I can hear the people laughing at the tavern down the street. Quiet enough that I can hear the female playing the piano two stories below and the couple making love three stories above. I sigh and roll over in bed letting the cool night breeze from the open window cool me off.

He’s gone…

He’s gone and I’m the reason. I could’ve done more, I could’ve, should’ve, put up with Vena for us, for him.

I broke things off 10 days ago. For the first week he knocked at my door, came to my work, brought me flowers and begged, begged on his knees, for me to give him another chance. To which I told him that he needed no other chance. I told him he did nothing wrong.

“Vena doesn’t like me, Lucien. Have you thought that maybe that’s a sign? Kids can tell these things; when people aren’t good.”

“And you’re not good?” His eyes shine with tears.

“Maybe I’m not…” my voice cracks and I try to shut the door. He puts his foot in the way.

“I love you, (Y/N). And I’m not letting you go.”

“Please don’t make this harder for me-”

“For you? FOR YOU?! I got on my knees and begged you to stay. I told you I love you and that’s not enough. What do I have to do? What do I have to offer-”

“You’re not the one who has what we need to make this work,” more tears. From me… from him…

“I’ll talk to her-”

“That hasn’t worked the past 12 months.”

“I love you.”

“It’s not enough… not long term” a guttural sob breaks free from him and he leans on my door frame, chest shaking. My hand goes up to reach for his face instinctively but I stop myself.

“If I can make her like you… will- will you come back to me?”

“You can’t make her do anything. And the more you try to force it the more she’ll likely hate me. She’s your sister, she’s your whole world. Do this for her. One day you’ll find someone and she’ll love her too, and you’ll know she’s the one. Vena deserves a big sister that she loves.” It’s the truth. And it hurts, burns my throat like bile as it comes out but still; it’s the truth.

He nods, standing straight and running a hand over his face, pushing both palms onto his tear-lined eyes. “You don’t get it…” he sighs. “She isn’t my whole world anymore,” he looks down and we stand there a second until a sob comes from my lips and I close the door, locking it and sitting down against it. I don’t hear his footsteps walk away by the time I fall asleep on the floor.

I cry at the memory and go use the bathroom.

The first day after I ended things was spent in bed crying. The second, I spend scrubbing away his scent from my apartment; washing beddings and scrubbing down the bathroom and kitchen, even letting the fireplace burn bright despise the warm weather just to attempt at burning the scent away… but it lingers. Maybe it’s a trick of my own mind at this point but I still scent him everywhere.

When I come back I’m startled by something jumping in through my window. I yelp as a dirty, chunky cat looks at me. It has beautiful green eyes and doesn’t seem agitated so I crouch and reach my hand out not too close, allowing it to come to me. The cat takes its time but comes close enough to sniff my hand and that’s when I notice that it’s wet. In the dark room it’s hard to tell what it’s covered in so I take it to the bathroom and find that it’s covered in mud. I take the rugs out of the bathroom and lock the door, I fill the tub as the cat tries to lick itself clean. It’s docile as I trim its nails and only fights when I try to put it in the tub.

After a while of trying to climb out and get away it accepts its fate as I soap up its coat and rinse it off. It behaves besides some pained meows and a displeased look on its face. Once it’s clean I can tell that it’s a female, gray tabby. She sits by the fireplace to dry off as I try to find something it can eat. I put out a bowl with water and defrost some salmon since I’m out of tuna. I lay out some towels but I doubt it’ll know that’s where it’s supposed to release itself. I yawn as I spot the chubby lady by the fireplace, sleeping. She seems so docile… I wonder why it’s out on the streets, no collar but so obviously not an alley cat, not in this court. I decide to make that tomorrow’s problem and head to bed.

The next day I wake up early, curtesy of the big cat deciding to lay down on top of my face and stop my breathing. I go out to buy cat supplies once I decide my attempts to fall back asleep are truly futile, and ultimately deciding to keep the furry thing as my new companion. I get food and cat litter and dishes and I make sure the set up is good enough in my apartment before going to work.

I haven’t seen Lucien in six days when he decides to show up at my work during my lunch. “Lucien-”

He puts a hand up, “I know,” he sits in front of me. “I- I’m running out of things to say, (Y/N).”

“Then stop talking. We both know this won’t work and you coming to see me only hurts us both.”

“I know.”

“Then what do you want?” I mentally kick myself as my voice wavers.

“I want you in my life. I know it’s stupid and it’ll probably do more harm than good but I miss you. Not just because I love you but I miss your personality; the dark humor, the knowledge in that big brain, all your little fun facts and books and crafts and… I can’t quit you cold turkey.”

“What do you want?” I repeat.

“Company. Your company.”

I take a deep breath, weighing the possibility, “no.”

“(Y/N),” he gets ready to make another point but I stop him.

“I have to quit you cold turkey, because if I don’t… I’ll be an addict forever.” First I see sadness, then rage in his eyes as he slams his palm on the table and stands up, leaving. I put my lunch away and head back into the darkness of the library, having lost my appetite.

Lucien POV

I’m so steamed up that all I see is red all the way to the palace. I head to my studies, hoping everyone will leave me alone but as I round a corner Vena is once again running from her governess and towards me, a big smile on her face. “Lushy! You’re back! You’re back! Where’d you go?”

“Not now Vena, I have work to do.”

She looks confused and follows me, “ooo! Can I help? I’m a good helper! You always say so!”

“Not now Vena, I’ll call you later and we can play.”

“Oh! I learned something new today! Did you know that flowers-”

“VENA! I said not now!” I shout and immediately regret it as big, fat tears fill her eyes and her lips wobble. She looks down and runs away down the hall.

Shit.

I rub my face before following after her, “Vena? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell.” I keep walking, following the scent of her vanilla shampoo. I hear sniffling coming from a slightly open door.

“He yelled at me, papa! Lushy never yells!” She cries.

“Lucien is under a lot of stress lately, cut him some slack. People do and say things they don’t mean when they have so many negative feelings going on.”

“It’s that witch! She made him sad!”

“(Y/N)?”

“Yeah! Her! She made Lushy sad and now he’s yelling at me.”

“Why do you think she made him sad? She hasn’t been around in weeks.”

“Because… because… because she’s a witch!” Vena huffs and even though I can’t see her I know she’s crossing her arms and pouting.

“Morning Star.” My father, ever soft spoken, says, “why do you think she’s a witch?”

“Because she is.”

“Ok, but besides that?”

There’s a long pause before Vena starts speaking, her voice soft and sad, “because she put a spell on Lushy. She made him not like me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” My father chuckles, “your brother loves you more than anything!”

“Not more than her. He stopped wanting to play with me and every time we were together he’d talk about her. I just want my big brodda back, papa. I miss Lushy before he met that witch.”

“Your brother loves you both. But in different ways. But that doesn’t mean he loves you any less just because he loves her. And you want to know a secret?”

“What, papa?”

“I promised your mother I wouldn’t tell you so you have to promise me that you’ll be a big girl and understand what I’m about to say, ok?”

“Yes, papa?”

My father sighs, “(Y/N) stopped coming around because her and Lucien aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend anymore.”

“Good. He got rid of her for good.”

“You said you’d be a big girl, Vena.”

“Sowy, papa. Keep going.”

“He didn’t get rid of her. She ended things with him.”

“Why? Lushy’s the best!” She gaps.

“Because she felt like she was getting in between you and him.”

“Well, she was…”

“No, Vena. She wasn’t. And I need you to be a big girl and understand that. You were mean and rude to that young female and you made her feel unwelcome, that’s not what us Spellclevers do. She felt so unwelcome that she left. And now your brother is heart broken.”

She gasps, “she broke his heart?”

“No, Vena. You broke his heart.”

A few seconds pass before she answers, “oh…so… I hurt Lushy by making (Y/N) wanna go away forever?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“If she’s gone… Why isn’t Lushy back to normal? If she’s not around then he can’t love her. So he should be my best big brodda again.”

“Love doesn’t go away with distance or time, Vena. I loved your mother for more than 500 years. I didn’t speak, write or see her for most of that time, yet my heart belonged to her. And nothing and no one else could or can change that. But just because I love your mother so fiercely, doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or Lucien.”

“So you can split up your love?”

He chuckles again, “no, my dearest. Love can never be split. It can only spread, and there’s no limit how much it can grow.”

“I think I understand, papa. But if that’s true… then I hurt Lushy… real bad.”

“I’m afraid you did, darling.”

She cries, “but I don’t wanna hurt him, papa! How do I make it right?”

“You can start by giving him time to calm down. Then maybe you can draw him one of your beautiful pictures and apologize.”

She didn’t say anything else and all I hear are the crackles of the fire in my father’s study. I silently make my way to my office and think about what I just heard, preparing myself to accept her apology even though I know it will change nothing. It’s done. She’s gone and Vena’s apology won’t change the fact that she doesn’t like (Y/N) one bit.

Reader’s POV

This cat will be the death of me. It’s eating 5 cans of tuna a day and it insists on sleeping in bed with me and I’ll wake up in the middle of the night as it lays on my face and suffocates me. At this point I don’t know if it loves me or if it’s trying to murder me.

I gasp for air, pushing the fur ball off my face. I glare at her and stir, looking outside as the dawn breaks. One year… today would’ve been a year. My vision blurs at the thought and I stare at the ceiling and let my tears flow. It’s my day off anyway, I can sulk today.

A knocking at the door interrupts my sulking and I hold my breath, hoping whoever it is will think I’m either out or sleeping and go away but the knocking continues, rapid and persistent. After about three minutes I give up and go see who it is, “coming!” I roll out of bed and put on my robe, padding to the door and opening it; no one.

“Down here!”

I look down and there stands Venus. Venus?! “What are you doing here?!”

“I need to talk to you,” she shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world, the backpack she carries shaking with the movement. She walks in like she owns the place. “Do you know how long it took me to get here? And why do you live so high up? By the way, your front door doesn’t lock; the one downstairs to get into the building.”

“I- I know Venus,” I close the door. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No,” she shrugs off her little leather backpack, tossing it up and onto the island then tries climbing up the bar chair, I end up helping her and she huffs.

“How did you find me?” I pour her a glass of water and she takes it with both hands, drinking half of it. She reaches for her backpack and pulls out a large canteen.

“Can you fill this, please?” I comply, filling it and handing it back to her.

“How did you find me?” I repeat.

She smirks, the little devil. “I told my governess I wanted to send you a letter so we walked here this afternoon and I left it in the mailbox. I just wanted to know how to come here so I could come alone.”

“And why did you want to come here, exactly?”

“Because Lushy is sad and I don’t like it! And you have to fix it.”

I sigh. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?!” She demands, pouting and crossing her arms.

“Lucien and I broke up for a good reason. And I can’t go back on it.” She pouts and mumbles something, “what?” She mumbles again, “I don’t know what you’re-”

“I’m sorry, okay?!” She huffs and looks away.

“You’re… sorry? For what?”

“Papa talked to me about why Lushy’s been so angry and sad… I’m sorry I was mean. And I’m sorry I pulled your hair… and pushed you… and put ants in your purse.”

“That was you?!”

“I said sorry!”

I sigh. This changes nothing. She’s here because Helion talked to her, not because she’s ok with me and Lucien being together. “Thank you for apologizing, Venus. I appreciate it. Now let’s get you home.”

“No!” She climbs down from the bar chair and goes to the sofa, climbing up and laying down on it. “I’ve been walking for hours! My legs are tiny still, it took me forever to get here.”

“Don’t you think they’ll be worried about you?”

“I left a-” She gasps and practically rolls off the sofa and makes a bee line for my new furry friend. “I didn’t know you had a kitty!” The cat meows, annoyed as Venus hugs it.

“She wandered in through the window a few days ago.”

Venus pets the cat and pulls it to her lap, her little legs spreading to make room for the cat to lay between them.

“What’s her name?”

“I haven’t thought of one yet…” I get up and make coffee, “you wanna eat something?”

“Yes please! I ate all the cookies I took from the kitchen on my way here.”

I make her a little plate of crackers and cheese and pour her some orange juice. By the time I go to tell her the snack is ready she’s pulled out bows from her own hair and put it on my cat. The furry thing looks at me with an unimpressed expression and meows in a way that feels like it’s begging for help. “Venus, come eat.” She starts to pick up my cat to bring with her, “leave the cat.”

“Aweee,” she puts the cat down and comes to eat, and this time doesn’t fuss when I help her up onto the bar stool.

About an hour later later she falls asleep with a death grip on the cat that still looks the pinnacle of boredom. I untangle her little hands for the kitty and pick her up, gathering her things and slugging her back onto my shoulders. I walk her all the way back to the Day Court Palace. It’s about a mile and a half from my apartment to the palace. I can make it in about thirty minutes at a leisurely pace, but I can’t imagine how long it took Venus and her little legs.

Once I make it to the gates the guards pull Venus off me, taking her pack and my own bag too. They escort me to Helion’s office and I’m sure the only reason they didn’t cuff me was because I complied and they knew my history with Lucien.

(Helion’s office, soon after)

Helion sighs as he sits in his office chair, “what happened?”

“Didn’t your guards tell you?” My eyes are on my feet.

“All they said is they saw you approaching the palace with Vena sleeping on your shoulder. We woke up panicked today when we couldn’t find her.”

“She snuck out and came to my apartment.”

“How-”

“I don’t know. She said she tricked her governess into taking her there today to drop off an apology letter. Once she knew where it was she could go by herself.”

The High Lord rubs his face in desperation, “what did she want?”

“She wanted to say she was sorry for all the things she pulled…. And she wanted me to make Lucien happy again.” I swallow the lump in my throat, eyes down cast.

“(Y/N) I’m so sorry. I think I’m partially to blame for this; I told her she had to make things right and apologize to her brother but… Vena always has her own plans.” I nod and then silence. “You’re free to go, it was truly a pleasure to see you again.”

I nod. I can feel my nose go red and the sight of my shoes blurts as tears fill my eyes.

Helion rises from his chair and hugs me, at the contact I sob, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, my dear?”

“For everything… I had no business going out with your son in the first place and now… there’s this mess.”

“You have every right to date my son. And he has every right to love you,” I sob again and hold his arm as he hugs me while I’m sitting in the chair. “Which he does. Deeply.”

Once I gather my bearings I leave the palace as Helion looks after me with a pained look. I walk quickly through the halls I’ve become so familiar with, hoping I won’t bump into Lucien. I spend the rest of my day off walking through the park, picking up more tuna and eating junk food on the sofa.

The hardest part is the numbness. All emotions just remind me of him, as if my soul has completely intertwined itself with his in the short time we knew each other. But now everything is hollow, and I have no energy left, no strength to feel those things now.

I fall asleep in the tub and only wake up when I hear a thud come from the bedroom, I look out the window and it is pitch black outside. I register the freezing water a second later and get out.

Another thud.

What the fuck? I wrap a towel around myself and curse colorfully at not having brought any clothes into the bathroom with me. I pull the plug on the drain and open the cabinet door under the sink, pulling out a dagger; Lucien insisted on teaching basic self defense and part of that, apparently, was keeping a dagger in easy reach yet hidden in every room. I open the door and try my best to remember everything Lucien taught me, still very aware of the fact that I’m in a towel.

I round the corner and there’s no one in the living room or kitchen.

“In here,” Vena. I hear her voice call me from the bedroom. This little female is going to make me go out of my mind!

I stomp over and turn on the light, “what. Are you doing here?! Do you know that they dragged me to your father this morning? Is this another one of your jokes? Cause if it is this isn’t funny, Venus. I’m not with your brother anymore! Leave me alone!” I stomp off to put the dagger back in its place. I count to five and walk back to the room where Venus is laying down a cat bed and blankets. “What are you doing?”

“Your kitty is pregnant, dum dum!” She doesn’t even look at me and keeps making the bed. Oh… that makes sense.

“How do you know?”

“Don’t you know anything about animals?”

“Some… not really.”

“Papa’s prize Pegasus and his mate are having a baby. Papa’s been teaching me about animals and their babies and cat is showing all the signs of getting ready for having kittens.” She says, matter of factly.

“I appreciate it Venus but you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I wasn’t done this morning,” she crosses her arms. “I just fell asleep. But I brought coffee this time so that won’t happen again.”

“You’re not supposed to drink coffee.”

She simply shrugs and focuses and making the cat bed. “I want a truce.”

“A truce?”

She nods, curls bouncing. “Yep. I’ll try to like you better if you make Lushy happy again by being his lady friend.” She finishes the cat bed and turns to me, hands on hips.

“Why?”

She looks down and wrings her hands together, “cause I love Lushy. And I know that I need to share him now.” The little female closes her eyes, like this confession hurts her. I take a few steps closer and kneel down in front of her.

“Venus?”

“Yeah?” Her eyes still closed, hands still clasped tightly together.

“Can I hug you?” Her eyes shoot open and she looks at me, searching for any evil.

“Ok.” I don’t waste a second, scooping her into my arms and holding her like a babe. I hold her for a while until she hugs me back. I don’t realize she’s crying until I hear her broken voice. “Lushy yelled at me.”

“What?”

“He yelled… he’s been so angry since you went away… so sad. I want my brodda to be happy and I talked to papa, and I know that if I don’t like you then Lushy won’t be happy.” She hiccups over my shoulder, “but I don’t like you. You stole my Lushy away and I don’t like it at all! Papa said that love grows when you love more people but it’s like you stole all his love away! All he would talk about when we played was you!”

I cut in as she takes a breath, “he talked about you to me nonstop too, you know? He would always tell me how smart and kind you were, how you were creative and too clever for your own good. You make him so proud, Venus. And no matter what he’ll always be your brother. I can’t change that as much as I can’t change the stars in the sky.” She cries a while longer, once the smell of salt passes I continue, “I love your brother. And if you’re willing to form a truce then I’ll consider being with him again, but no more pranks, ok?” She simply nods. “Maybe we can find common ground?”

She pulls away and wipes her face, “what’s that?”

I stand to find tissues, “thing we both like. I like to read and paint and do crafts. I like ice cream and breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Tell me some things you like.”

She sits on the floor in front of me, legs out and hands stretching to grip her covered feet. “Hmmm… my favorite color is purple but I also like green. I like to draw too and I like ice cream; cookie dough. My favorite meal time is dinner and I’m still learning to read but I like it when mama, papa or Lushy reads to me.” She smiles, accomplished.

“What kind of stories do you like?”

“Papa reads to me about animals, Lushy tells me stories of his adventures in the courts but my favorites are mama’s stories! She reads me stories about pirates and sword fights and damsels in distress! About rats the size of dogs and swaps so dangerous no one can pass through!” She vibrates with excitement, “stories about true love! My favorite is the Buttercup story!”

I chuckle, “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“Oooo! Mama will tell ya! She likes telling that one.”

I smile, “wanna hear one of my favorites?” She nods. “It’s a story I heard long ago but never forgot. Let’s get comfy,” we get snacks and I get her settled on the bed with me and then I start. “Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess, who loved her kingdom… very much….”

(Hours later)

Venus fell asleep deep into the story. She held out longer than I thought she would. But that story is long and I do not blame her. Once I was sure she was in a deep enough sleep, I once again gathered her things and set off to the palace. The guards didn’t drag me to Helion this time, the High Lord was up and simply summoned as they saw my approach.

“Again?” He sighs as he takes Venus and her pack from me.

“Yes, but this time went well… she wants to form a truce.”

“A truce?”

I nod. “I’ll be with Lucien again and she’ll be kind to me. We found some common ground and dare I say we even bonded a little.” I flush, the notion still foreign.

Helion simply smiles and kisses his daughter’s hair. “It’ll be nice having you around again, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” I smile bright.

“Would you like me to summon Lucien for you? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to-“

“No!” I cut him off, “no. No… I- I still have to think of what to say. Can I come by tomorrow morning before work?”

The High Lord of the Day Court looks amused as he chuckles and puts a hand on my shoulder, “you can come by at whatever time you’d like, dear.”

It’s no secret where Lucien gets his charm. I smile up at Helion and nod, “I’ll be seeing you real soon then.”

“I hope so, good night.” He takes Venus inside as I wave goodbye and turn to head home. How the Hel am I going to talk to Lucien? How do I unsay all I said? I made it so clear that I wanted nothing more to do with him. Told him to go, that I didn’t even want his company…

Fuck.

I get home, shower off the stress, feed my cat and plop down in bed.

Tags: @stressed-reader @owned-by-tiny-velociraptors @nana-nana2 @fantasydreamer420 @tele86 @havenhavoc @sophia-grace2025 @gamarancianne @browneyedbrunette101 @jaybbygrl

[sajirah]

Which member of the Inner Circle would be most likely to bail you out of jail?

Amren

Azriel

Cassian

Elain

Feyre

Morrigan

Nesta

Rhysand

Voting ended onJun 9, 2025