Hmmmm, providing sanctuary to humans in Velaris...good call...providing sanctuary if said humans are able to get to a warded city up North where they'd either have to:
A) pass through several fae courts by land (like Spring and Autumn) since the Night Court is so far away from The Wall.
B) somehow sail all the way to the top of Prythian where the Night Court is and trek into the court that way.
This is also under the assumption that Velaris is going to take down their wards that work like literal repellant and the MiB amnesia pen to allow humans the ability to see the city.
So a typical Night Court plan, good intentions with a questionable action plan and logic.
btw it's so fucking stupid you can be anxious physically in your body even after you've decided mentally you don't care. I'm supposed to be in charge here
nesta is not an animal for fucks sake. what is this trail of thought? see this is why none of them can never treat or see nesta like a being and especially cassian
and feyre killed the wolf remember? she also did that to nesta by locking her up and forcing her to do things she didn’t want to
Hmmmm, I haven't read SF (and I do not want it put myself through that torture) so my opinions are fairly skewered here.
This, to me, is probably where the mate thing goes way left. Especially the whole "equal in every way/ a mirror of oneself" angle. Cassian's description of Nesta basically negates any idea that her trait of being sharp is a defense mechanism stemming from trauma. Which Feyre and Elain also seemingly confirm? They're all almost saying that Nesta is a born warrior being forced to be a high society woman (which she can be but also stifles her???). Which is uh....okay then,i guess??? Honestly wasn't getting that vibe from her but anyway.
Anyway, I think he sees her viciousness as untapped potential. Because all he sees in Nesta is himself. That whole description he gives about her is basically just how he grew up before he met Rhysand. Cassian was an illegitimate child, beating up other kids to survive, not fitting into his own society's mould. His friendship with Rhys (that starts with him beating up Rhys for his clothes) essentially saves him from what could've have been a worser future(?). His powers are now less used for survival and erratic nature. They've become focused and used for the explicit purpose of the IC and their ambitions. He's a honed weapon and to him, better for it. I feel like the last line "made him want to answer it with his own." is some form of confirmation of this (?).
I think the biggest problem that SJM does with Nesta's character is try to fit her into her working thesis. Which is that high society offers little to women and always stifles them. Thus a woman only comes into her own once she moves beyond its constraints. This isn't entirely wrong but SJM basically concludes that the way of the blade and hand-to-hand combat are the only ways of figuring yourself out.
Mor is born into high society in Hewn City and suffers from the rampant misogyny there. She's then freed, becomes a warrior (via blade and combat) and essentially comes into her own.
Feyre suffers when she's in the Spring Court (primarily from her traumas UTM) but I feel like the narrative makes a lot of emphasis to the idea that Tamlin's way of life (depicted as quite rich and aristocratic) is mostly what's stifling her. She trains with Cassian and... becomes a warrior(by way of the blade and combat).
Now the same thing is happening with Nesta. She straddles this line a lot more than the other two by the constant references of her being like a queen and being fit to be a duchess. Essentially, Nesta is capable of existing in high society but it seems in SF (from the snippets I've seen) and acowar, it's questioned if that's what Nesta truly wants. Because at the end of the day, in SJM's eyes, that facet of society is stifling regardless of how well one can navigate it or not. (side note: this is what leads me to believe that Elain is more than likely getting some version of a warrior arch). Also, SJM just...can't write or hasn't as of yet written a prominent female character in acotar outside of the warrior arch. Not even Gwen or Emerie are free from this (participating in the Blood Rite and all that). Nesta has skills that she gained from being forced to be in high society and SJM often makes reference to them (her skill in dancing). However instead of just acknowledging that Nesta, with these skills, is capable and okay as is and that she can just choose to exist outside of her predestined life, it seems to be written as not enough. It's not enough for Nesta to not want to be a queen or duchess. She has to become something in direct opposition to be valid. Which is....a sword wielding warrior.
A while ago, I made a short piece of Cassian having to rescue Cresseida and I really enjoyed myself and thought, "why not do it again?" Here's Cassian being Cresseida's personal guard for a dinner with some foreign dignitaries and learning a bit about the fae behind the crown.
Word Count : approx. 2900
Divider by : @/diviniyae
Cassian stared at the statue. Either it was fish or a fae. No, a fae fish thing. The Summer Court had to have half fae half fish creatures walking around. Cassian cocked his head to the side and squinted at the figure. He hadn’t really seen anyone that looked like this. Then again, he hadn’t been out and about in the streets of Adriata since he still had ‘restrictive access’. Whatever the fuck that meant. Back to the statue. Fish fae? Were there attractive fish creatures in this court that had half fae fish offspring like that?
“Umm…c-c-commander,” a voice said.
Cassian abandoned his theories and turned around. A servant stood far up the hallway. A female fae with short white curly hair and a gold stud through her nose, gave him a bow. One of Cresseida’s servants. Cassian had learnt that gold hoops, studs or rods in the face were always for those who served Cresseida. When the servant rose, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead her gaze was to the floor.
“Princess Cresseida will be only a few more minutes,” the female fae mumbled. If it weren’t for his sharp hearing, he might’ve missed what she said entirely.
“Damn, these things really take that long, huh?” he said, dropping his hand from the hilt of his sword. Cassian gave her his best smile.
The servant gave another bow and spun around, scurrying back up the hallway, leaving him alone again. Cassian sighed. At least she hadn’t bolted from him like the other ones. Rolling his neck, Cassian winced at the tightness in his shoulders. They could’ve given him a damn chair to sit in. Standing around and waiting outside the princess’s door was close to the most bored he’d ever felt. How long does it take to dress up for a dinner? Mor would’ve been out by now. Sighing, Cassian wandered further down the hallway, looking at more sculptures shaped like fish fae and paintings of the sea. He should’ve been counting but he was sure it was about ten he’d seen so far. The windows on the opposite wall from all the paintings and sculptures were close to three times his height, stretching almost to the ceiling. As he walked closer to the windows, Cassian could taste salt from the sea breeze that blew past him. He stopped short of one of the windows and stuck his hand out. It passed through. Cassian hadn’t felt much of the breeze from the other side and less so up the hallway where the windows weren’t as tall. But standing so close, he was met with another gust of air. He walked down checking the next window. Glass. Then the next. No glass. The windows weren’t wide enough for someone with wings like his to just dive in but if they scaled the walls, it wouldn’t be too hard to squeeze through the opening. Feyre or Mor would have an easy time. It’d be a squeeze for him though. He assumed some magic was happening to prevent just anyone from coming in through the glassless windows though. Wards or whatever. Cassian leaned closer. His head passed through with a little more resistance, letting him look down at Adriata below. The citizens below were like ants, milling about through the narrow streets. He was also met with flat white tops of buildings. Some looking tall and some short. Between every other building were flowering trees almost as tall as the houses, growing onto the tops of the buildings like they were providing shade. Unlike Velaris, there weren’t clean cut quarters of Adriata. The city from its buildings to its roads was built like it was moulded from one large piece of clay and somehow everything below looked both the same and so different from each other. The palace itself was the only thing distinct in colour. A blue like the sky and shaped like one giant spiral up into the clouds, Cassian could tell it was the city’s centre. He could also commend the Summer Court for the maze of the inside of the place. It made sense to him in sections but even Azriel would probably struggle a little trying to map out exact paths and rooms.
Cassian pulled back once he felt himself start to sweat. He wiped his face. He’d almost forgotten how fucking hot it was outside. Despite it being almost evening, Adriata’s sun was far harsher than anything he was used to. His hand brushed against the walls, the clay cool against his fingertips. After careful examination of the walls and windows, Cassian moved on down the hallway, to entertain himself with more oddly shaped sculptures. Who even sculpted and painted all of these things? Feyre’s paintings were better in his opinion, more personal and easier to understand than whatever he was seeing here. As he walked, he looked more at the paintings hanging on the walls. There weren’t any scenes of battle, just faces and figures behind simple backgrounds standing or sat smiling and not smiling back at him. In one of them, a couple stood together. He knew the weapon the female fae carried in her hand. A silver sceptre. It looked carved into a serpent with a pearl in its mouth He didn’t know what the male fae standing next to her had. Cassian peered closer. It looked like some wooden staff with a bulbous head, like a walking stick but he held it more like a weapon. They were dressed in whites and blues with pearls and sea shells woven into their hair. A lot less flashy than Rhys and Feyre’s outfits. He walked on. He almost passed by a sculpture but stopped. Cassian stared at it. Art was meant to make you feel something. Feyre harped on that quite a lot whenever he said he didn’t get a drawing or painting. It wasn’t like he thought any of it was bad. Art was just something that’d always been out of reach for him. You don’t paint much when you’re trying to stay alive for the day. Even less when you’re training to die. Cassian always thought that the type of art he’d seen Rhys buy was a bunch of paint splattered to a canvas for love of it. He knew it was fancy and that was pretty much it. He saw the sculptures in Hewn City and the way Mor would look at them. The way her face would scrunch and she’d scowl at one but then cry at another. Cassian was mostly just confused. Some art was just pretty to him. Illyria, at least his village, hadn’t been big on art. There were probably talented Illyrians who could weave, paint and sculpt things that weren’t just about war. He just didn’t know any. Coming back to the sculpture in front of him, it was quite small. At first it seemed like nothing special, just a piece of clay or stone made to look like a swirl of smoke. But Cassian felt something so he looked for more. He wanted answers to the weird niggling squeeze of his heart as he continued to gaze at it. Then he saw what might be arms and what the figure could be cradling inside of them. He saw a face without features looking down at what was in her arms. Cassian swallowed and stepped back, walking away from the figure. That was enough of an answer. Art wasn’t really his thing anyway.
The next painting he came across surprised him. It was tall and of three figures standing behind a weird swirly blue background. The two males had their hands behind their backs. Cressieda in the middle had hers crossed over in front of her. Cassian could tell it was her even with her locs shorter. She was also dressed not too differently than how she dressed now. She didn’t have her crown but a beaded band around her forehead. Cresseida was beaming in the painting. It wasn’t too different to the real life version. Who were the guys next to her? Squinting at the figure on Cresseida’s right, his memories began stirring up a name. Broad shouldered and always serious looking. A male who really didn’t joke around much from what he remembered. The name flashed in his mind. Nostrus. Then the figure on her left, who was also smiling like her was probably Varian. He had locs much longer than Cresseida’s. Cassian focused on the features in the painting of the male. He was more similar to Nostrus in the face than Cresseida. Varian also had a wider nose and wasn’t as lean as this male.
“Brutius, Cresseida and Nostrus.”
Cassian jerked back and looked around. Standing a bit behind him was a male fae. He smiled at Cassian and that made him even more confused. Like Cresseida now, he also had locs that swept the floor. His were thicker though and had golden cuffs at different points of the locs. He wanted to look around and ask the male if he meant to be speaking with him. He’d be the first outside the royal family to sincerely acknowledge his presence. “My, my were they so young in this painting,” he said. He stepped forward and stood next to Cassian now, staring up at the portrait. “So young and so terribly naughty.” The male laughed to himself.
“Cresseida? Naughty?” Cassian snorted. Maybe it was something like Mor’s experience in Hewn City, independence being seen as disobedience.
“Yes! Cresseida was probably the worst of the three,” the male said and it caught Cassian more off guard to hear the reply. Someone from this court was actually talking to him. He had half expected the male to run after his first words. “You’re the Illyrian personal guard Tarquin hired? Commander Callus?”
“It’s actually Cassian.” He smiled down at the male. No need to scare off the only fae to talk to him.
“I’ve heard good things about you from prince Varian,” he said.
“Not good enough to lift the ban though?”
The male chuckled. “Unfortunately that decision rests on the princess as I’m aware she is the one who instituted the ban?”
Cassian groaned and scratched his head. “It was one building,” he muttered. How could she still be so mad about that? He didn’t even remember which one he’d messed up.
“I do recall it was a rather old building that the princess really admired. She was quite upset about it’s state. Thankfully the repairs went on smoothly.” He reached up and patted Cassian on the shoulder. “Try not to be too glum about it. I’m sure the princess will come around to forgiving you eventually.”
Cassian nodded at these words, turning back to the portrait. This would be where Rhys would tell him to make small talk and fish for information ‘diplomatically’. He looked at the three now, still trying to imagine a mischievous Cresseida who did things against the rules. Cassian couldn’t see it. All he saw was Mor’s own cage, her spirit being snuffed out. He imagined Feyre trapped in the Spring Court and forced to be something she wasn’t. “So what did Cresseida do as a child?” he asked.
“I think my favourite antic of hers was when she snuck an octopus inside the palace to live in her bathtub.”
“She did what?” Cassian’s head snapped to the man then to the figure of Cresseida, princess Cresseida. Regal, refined and a-little-too-polite-for-his-own-liking Cresseida.
“One of the many animals she snuck into the palace. She wanted a pet. Her parents said no but Cresseida was a stubborn child. In some ways, she still is very much the same. And unfortunately for the rest of us, she was quite talented and caught on quickly with her command of water.” He chuckled again. “There were also many fishes, a few seagulls, a bunch of crabs. She went through a phase where she really loved crabs. I believe she snuck a few into a council meeting ‘to make friends with the councillors’.” The male sighed but it sounded nostalgic to Cassian and a bit loving. “I think at least one baby shark or dolphin. What else?” The male hummed. “She attempted to bring in a seal once but luckily I caught onto that one fast enough.” There was a pause between them where Cassian turned to look at the male. He was staring up at the smiling figures. “I thought it was always going to be like that. This chaos in the palace with those three.” Then he added, in a quieter voice. “How so much has changed.”
“It must’ve been hard for her. Under the Mountain.” To this day, Rhys wouldn’t say what happened to him there nor did Feyre. But Cassian had seen it the day his brother had come back. He’d seen the emptiness there and knew a part of Rhys was forever not the same. There’d been many versions of Rhys that Cassian had seen. After he found him and Azriel again after the war, he’d promised to keep Rhys intact and that his father would be the last person to chip away at his core. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.
“She never talks about it. Prince Varian has mentioned a few things and so has Tarquin." A pause then he continued. "But I heard she watched both of them die...Nostrus and Brutius.” the male murmured.
“That sounds…” he didn’t know what to think. When Azriel had brought back Mor from the Autumn Court, he’d been sick and threw up more than when he’d fought in the first Hybern war. If Azriel had brought back her body with no soul inside, Cassian might’ve lost his hold on his rage. “You weren’t there?” Cassian asked. The male’s lips twisted.
“No. Nostrus had ordered the council to go into hiding until the curse was lifted or something happened to Amarantha.”
“Sounded like he didn’t know if he was going to come back,” Cassian said. Turning to the painting again, he looked at the old high lord of Summer. Nostrus stood with his chin up. Confident in a way that reminded Cassian of a commander.
“Stubborn. The whole lot of them. Once they get an idea in their mind…” the male trailed off. He sucked in a breath like he’d been punched. “In the end, it was a good order. One only a good high lord who cared about his people could make. But sometimes, I selfishly wish he’d made a different choice, if not for himself then for Cressie. It’s hard to see her all alone.”
“I mean…at least there’s still Varian and Tarquin.”
The male sighed. “It’s not the same, Cassian.”
“Maybe I can understand her loss but she still has people that care about her alive. It’s important to count your blessings rather than your defeats.”
“I suppose that is the commander speaking and less Cassian himself?” he asked. Cassian glanced side long at him. Greyish eyes meeting his brown ones. “If you lost those you loved, those you held near and dear to your heart, could you stand to think the same thing?”
He couldn’t. He’d been ready to die that day of the war and lose it all. That was what Illyrian training did to males. You became so used to saying your final goodbye that you never really thought about how ridiculous it was to begin with. It was a part of him that Cassian couldn’t fully switch off though. Neither could Rhys nor Azriel. He tried to make it into something heroic and noble. There’d been these stories that Rhys’s mother had read to them as kids and Cassian wanted to be that hero. But sometimes he thought it was more selfishness that made it that he was so willing to die. Because he didn’t want to be the one standing alone amongst the ghosts of his loved ones.
“Commander?”
Cassian looked away from the male to where Cresseida stood up the hallway. “Yeah?”
“I apologise for keeping you waiting. There’d been a bit of an issue with my dress,” she said, fiddling with the pearls in her hair. “But I’m ready to go.”
“I must say that you look beautiful, your highness,” the male said. “A true future queen.”
Cresseida smiled at him then glanced at Cassian. “Are you being so complimentary and formal because of company, Argus?” she said.
“Manners are everything,” he replied. “Well, I should let you get to your party. Enjoy your evening,” Argus said and walked down the hallway.
Cassian gave the painting a quick glance before he walked up to the Cresseida.
“So, what did the old fae tell you?” Cresseida asked. She’d stopped fiddling with the pearls and straightened. Cassian looked at Cresseida, really looked at her.
“You want to ditch your fancy dinner and just go out?” he asked. Cassian rested his hand on the hilt of his blade. “We could go down to the beach,” he offered. Maybe steal a fish for you he wanted to add.
“What?” Cresseida laughed. She brushed her hands down her skirt and fiddled with the neck collar thing that sat on her shoulders.
He shrugged. “Just a suggestion. This dinner sounds boring.” He followed her down the hallway the way Argus went.
“I don’t know how things are done in the Night Court but I have responsibilities. I cannot just go and do whatever I want. Tarquin is meeting with some foreign dignitaries and I have to be there to help him through it,” she said. Cresseida breezed past the painting but Cassian stopped, glancing at it for a moment. He looked at her smile again and the ghosts standing next to her. Maybe he was beginning to understand the point of art.
A while ago, I made a short piece of Cassian having to rescue Cresseida and I really enjoyed myself and thought, "why not do it again?" Here's Cassian being Cresseida's personal guard for a dinner with some foreign dignitaries and learning a bit about the fae behind the crown.
Word Count : approx. 2900
Divider by : @/diviniyae
Cassian stared at the statue. Either it was fish or a fae. No, a fae fish thing. The Summer Court had to have half fae half fish creatures walking around. Cassian cocked his head to the side and squinted at the figure. He hadn’t really seen anyone that looked like this. Then again, he hadn’t been out and about in the streets of Adriata since he still had ‘restrictive access’. Whatever the fuck that meant. Back to the statue. Fish fae? Were there attractive fish creatures in this court that had half fae fish offspring like that?
“Umm…c-c-commander,” a voice said.
Cassian abandoned his theories and turned around. A servant stood far up the hallway. A female fae with short white curly hair and a gold stud through her nose, gave him a bow. One of Cresseida’s servants. Cassian had learnt that gold hoops, studs or rods in the face were always for those who served Cresseida. When the servant rose, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead her gaze was to the floor.
“Princess Cresseida will be only a few more minutes,” the female fae mumbled. If it weren’t for his sharp hearing, he might’ve missed what she said entirely.
“Damn, these things really take that long, huh?” he said, dropping his hand from the hilt of his sword. Cassian gave her his best smile.
The servant gave another bow and spun around, scurrying back up the hallway, leaving him alone again. Cassian sighed. At least she hadn’t bolted from him like the other ones. Rolling his neck, Cassian winced at the tightness in his shoulders. They could’ve given him a damn chair to sit in. Standing around and waiting outside the princess’s door was close to the most bored he’d ever felt. How long does it take to dress up for a dinner? Mor would’ve been out by now. Sighing, Cassian wandered further down the hallway, looking at more sculptures shaped like fish fae and paintings of the sea. He should’ve been counting but he was sure it was about ten he’d seen so far. The windows on the opposite wall from all the paintings and sculptures were close to three times his height, stretching almost to the ceiling. As he walked closer to the windows, Cassian could taste salt from the sea breeze that blew past him. He stopped short of one of the windows and stuck his hand out. It passed through. Cassian hadn’t felt much of the breeze from the other side and less so up the hallway where the windows weren’t as tall. But standing so close, he was met with another gust of air. He walked down checking the next window. Glass. Then the next. No glass. The windows weren’t wide enough for someone with wings like his to just dive in but if they scaled the walls, it wouldn’t be too hard to squeeze through the opening. Feyre or Mor would have an easy time. It’d be a squeeze for him though. He assumed some magic was happening to prevent just anyone from coming in through the glassless windows though. Wards or whatever. Cassian leaned closer. His head passed through with a little more resistance, letting him look down at Adriata below. The citizens below were like ants, milling about through the narrow streets. He was also met with flat white tops of buildings. Some looking tall and some short. Between every other building were flowering trees almost as tall as the houses, growing onto the tops of the buildings like they were providing shade. Unlike Velaris, there weren’t clean cut quarters of Adriata. The city from its buildings to its roads was built like it was moulded from one large piece of clay and somehow everything below looked both the same and so different from each other. The palace itself was the only thing distinct in colour. A blue like the sky and shaped like one giant spiral up into the clouds, Cassian could tell it was the city’s centre. He could also commend the Summer Court for the maze of the inside of the place. It made sense to him in sections but even Azriel would probably struggle a little trying to map out exact paths and rooms.
Cassian pulled back once he felt himself start to sweat. He wiped his face. He’d almost forgotten how fucking hot it was outside. Despite it being almost evening, Adriata’s sun was far harsher than anything he was used to. His hand brushed against the walls, the clay cool against his fingertips. After careful examination of the walls and windows, Cassian moved on down the hallway, to entertain himself with more oddly shaped sculptures. Who even sculpted and painted all of these things? Feyre’s paintings were better in his opinion, more personal and easier to understand than whatever he was seeing here. As he walked, he looked more at the paintings hanging on the walls. There weren’t any scenes of battle, just faces and figures behind simple backgrounds standing or sat smiling and not smiling back at him. In one of them, a couple stood together. He knew the weapon the female fae carried in her hand. A silver sceptre. It looked carved into a serpent with a pearl in its mouth He didn’t know what the male fae standing next to her had. Cassian peered closer. It looked like some wooden staff with a bulbous head, like a walking stick but he held it more like a weapon. They were dressed in whites and blues with pearls and sea shells woven into their hair. A lot less flashy than Rhys and Feyre’s outfits. He walked on. He almost passed by a sculpture but stopped. Cassian stared at it. Art was meant to make you feel something. Feyre harped on that quite a lot whenever he said he didn’t get a drawing or painting. It wasn’t like he thought any of it was bad. Art was just something that’d always been out of reach for him. You don’t paint much when you’re trying to stay alive for the day. Even less when you’re training to die. Cassian always thought that the type of art he’d seen Rhys buy was a bunch of paint splattered to a canvas for love of it. He knew it was fancy and that was pretty much it. He saw the sculptures in Hewn City and the way Mor would look at them. The way her face would scrunch and she’d scowl at one but then cry at another. Cassian was mostly just confused. Some art was just pretty to him. Illyria, at least his village, hadn’t been big on art. There were probably talented Illyrians who could weave, paint and sculpt things that weren’t just about war. He just didn’t know any. Coming back to the sculpture in front of him, it was quite small. At first it seemed like nothing special, just a piece of clay or stone made to look like a swirl of smoke. But Cassian felt something so he looked for more. He wanted answers to the weird niggling squeeze of his heart as he continued to gaze at it. Then he saw what might be arms and what the figure could be cradling inside of them. He saw a face without features looking down at what was in her arms. Cassian swallowed and stepped back, walking away from the figure. That was enough of an answer. Art wasn’t really his thing anyway.
The next painting he came across surprised him. It was tall and of three figures standing behind a weird swirly blue background. The two males had their hands behind their backs. Cressieda in the middle had hers crossed over in front of her. Cassian could tell it was her even with her locs shorter. She was also dressed not too differently than how she dressed now. She didn’t have her crown but a beaded band around her forehead. Cresseida was beaming in the painting. It wasn’t too different to the real life version. Who were the guys next to her? Squinting at the figure on Cresseida’s right, his memories began stirring up a name. Broad shouldered and always serious looking. A male who really didn’t joke around much from what he remembered. The name flashed in his mind. Nostrus. Then the figure on her left, who was also smiling like her was probably Varian. He had locs much longer than Cresseida’s. Cassian focused on the features in the painting of the male. He was more similar to Nostrus in the face than Cresseida. Varian also had a wider nose and wasn’t as lean as this male.
“Brutius, Cresseida and Nostrus.”
Cassian jerked back and looked around. Standing a bit behind him was a male fae. He smiled at Cassian and that made him even more confused. Like Cresseida now, he also had locs that swept the floor. His were thicker though and had golden cuffs at different points of the locs. He wanted to look around and ask the male if he meant to be speaking with him. He’d be the first outside the royal family to sincerely acknowledge his presence. “My, my were they so young in this painting,” he said. He stepped forward and stood next to Cassian now, staring up at the portrait. “So young and so terribly naughty.” The male laughed to himself.
“Cresseida? Naughty?” Cassian snorted. Maybe it was something like Mor’s experience in Hewn City, independence being seen as disobedience.
“Yes! Cresseida was probably the worst of the three,” the male said and it caught Cassian more off guard to hear the reply. Someone from this court was actually talking to him. He had half expected the male to run after his first words. “You’re the Illyrian personal guard Tarquin hired? Commander Callus?”
“It’s actually Cassian.” He smiled down at the male. No need to scare off the only fae to talk to him.
“I’ve heard good things about you from prince Varian,” he said.
“Not good enough to lift the ban though?”
The male chuckled. “Unfortunately that decision rests on the princess as I’m aware she is the one who instituted the ban?”
Cassian groaned and scratched his head. “It was one building,” he muttered. How could she still be so mad about that? He didn’t even remember which one he’d messed up.
“I do recall it was a rather old building that the princess really admired. She was quite upset about it’s state. Thankfully the repairs went on smoothly.” He reached up and patted Cassian on the shoulder. “Try not to be too glum about it. I’m sure the princess will come around to forgiving you eventually.”
Cassian nodded at these words, turning back to the portrait. This would be where Rhys would tell him to make small talk and fish for information ‘diplomatically’. He looked at the three now, still trying to imagine a mischievous Cresseida who did things against the rules. Cassian couldn’t see it. All he saw was Mor’s own cage, her spirit being snuffed out. He imagined Feyre trapped in the Spring Court and forced to be something she wasn’t. “So what did Cresseida do as a child?” he asked.
“I think my favourite antic of hers was when she snuck an octopus inside the palace to live in her bathtub.”
“She did what?” Cassian’s head snapped to the man then to the figure of Cresseida, princess Cresseida. Regal, refined and a-little-too-polite-for-his-own-liking Cresseida.
“One of the many animals she snuck into the palace. She wanted a pet. Her parents said no but Cresseida was a stubborn child. In some ways, she still is very much the same. And unfortunately for the rest of us, she was quite talented and caught on quickly with her command of water.” He chuckled again. “There were also many fishes, a few seagulls, a bunch of crabs. She went through a phase where she really loved crabs. I believe she snuck a few into a council meeting ‘to make friends with the councillors’.” The male sighed but it sounded nostalgic to Cassian and a bit loving. “I think at least one baby shark or dolphin. What else?” The male hummed. “She attempted to bring in a seal once but luckily I caught onto that one fast enough.” There was a pause between them where Cassian turned to look at the male. He was staring up at the smiling figures. “I thought it was always going to be like that. This chaos in the palace with those three.” Then he added, in a quieter voice. “How so much has changed.”
“It must’ve been hard for her. Under the Mountain.” To this day, Rhys wouldn’t say what happened to him there nor did Feyre. But Cassian had seen it the day his brother had come back. He’d seen the emptiness there and knew a part of Rhys was forever not the same. There’d been many versions of Rhys that Cassian had seen. After he found him and Azriel again after the war, he’d promised to keep Rhys intact and that his father would be the last person to chip away at his core. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.
“She never talks about it. Prince Varian has mentioned a few things and so has Tarquin." A pause then he continued. "But I heard she watched both of them die...Nostrus and Brutius.” the male murmured.
“That sounds…” he didn’t know what to think. When Azriel had brought back Mor from the Autumn Court, he’d been sick and threw up more than when he’d fought in the first Hybern war. If Azriel had brought back her body with no soul inside, Cassian might’ve lost his hold on his rage. “You weren’t there?” Cassian asked. The male’s lips twisted.
“No. Nostrus had ordered the council to go into hiding until the curse was lifted or something happened to Amarantha.”
“Sounded like he didn’t know if he was going to come back,” Cassian said. Turning to the painting again, he looked at the old high lord of Summer. Nostrus stood with his chin up. Confident in a way that reminded Cassian of a commander.
“Stubborn. The whole lot of them. Once they get an idea in their mind…” the male trailed off. He sucked in a breath like he’d been punched. “In the end, it was a good order. One only a good high lord who cared about his people could make. But sometimes, I selfishly wish he’d made a different choice, if not for himself then for Cressie. It’s hard to see her all alone.”
“I mean…at least there’s still Varian and Tarquin.”
The male sighed. “It’s not the same, Cassian.”
“Maybe I can understand her loss but she still has people that care about her alive. It’s important to count your blessings rather than your defeats.”
“I suppose that is the commander speaking and less Cassian himself?” he asked. Cassian glanced side long at him. Greyish eyes meeting his brown ones. “If you lost those you loved, those you held near and dear to your heart, could you stand to think the same thing?”
He couldn’t. He’d been ready to die that day of the war and lose it all. That was what Illyrian training did to males. You became so used to saying your final goodbye that you never really thought about how ridiculous it was to begin with. It was a part of him that Cassian couldn’t fully switch off though. Neither could Rhys nor Azriel. He tried to make it into something heroic and noble. There’d been these stories that Rhys’s mother had read to them as kids and Cassian wanted to be that hero. But sometimes he thought it was more selfishness that made it that he was so willing to die. Because he didn’t want to be the one standing alone amongst the ghosts of his loved ones.
“Commander?”
Cassian looked away from the male to where Cresseida stood up the hallway. “Yeah?”
“I apologise for keeping you waiting. There’d been a bit of an issue with my dress,” she said, fiddling with the pearls in her hair. “But I’m ready to go.”
“I must say that you look beautiful, your highness,” the male said. “A true future queen.”
Cresseida smiled at him then glanced at Cassian. “Are you being so complimentary and formal because of company, Argus?” she said.
“Manners are everything,” he replied. “Well, I should let you get to your party. Enjoy your evening,” Argus said and walked down the hallway.
Cassian gave the painting a quick glance before he walked up to the Cresseida.
“So, what did the old fae tell you?” Cresseida asked. She’d stopped fiddling with the pearls and straightened. Cassian looked at Cresseida, really looked at her.
“You want to ditch your fancy dinner and just go out?” he asked. Cassian rested his hand on the hilt of his blade. “We could go down to the beach,” he offered. Maybe steal a fish for you he wanted to add.
“What?” Cresseida laughed. She brushed her hands down her skirt and fiddled with the neck collar thing that sat on her shoulders.
He shrugged. “Just a suggestion. This dinner sounds boring.” He followed her down the hallway the way Argus went.
“I don’t know how things are done in the Night Court but I have responsibilities. I cannot just go and do whatever I want. Tarquin is meeting with some foreign dignitaries and I have to be there to help him through it,” she said. Cresseida breezed past the painting but Cassian stopped, glancing at it for a moment. He looked at her smile again and the ghosts standing next to her. Maybe he was beginning to understand the point of art.
I chose to use just the ‘fashion’ prompt for today. And for said fashion I present my take on the Spring Court soldier’s armour. With Andras’ uniform being the standard sentry uniform and Tamlin’s being embellished to show his royal status. Despite not having designed helmets for Spring I think they’d have pretty beetle like designs same as the shoulder plate and boot spurs.
Tamlin’s hands are also not gloved like the standard uniform so he can grow out his claws while in battle.
There’s a lot of leaf and beetle inspiration in the designs and I was particularly inspired by the Leaf Men designs from the Blue Sky Studios movie EPIC if any of you have seen that.
Also say hello to my Andras design!
(*cough cough* this is also a sneak peak for my submission for the collab prompt…but that’s just between the two of us shh…)
Tamlin week day seven: Free day/Alternate universe
Modern Tamsand | Boss! Rhysand/Assistant! Tamlin | Rated E (Smut is implied until last chapter) | 6 Chapters | Alternating POV | 12,999 Total Words
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Summary: Tamlin has been Rhysand's assistant for five years. He grabs his coffee, answers his emails, keeps him organized and has been sleeping with him in an arrangement that suits them both. Until it doesn't. Loosely inspired by the proposal/Two weeks notice, etc.
Warnings: Power dynamics, Rhys is an asshole but he does care about Tamlin, Slight workplace bullying.
Shoutout to @limeandorange for the pasta recommendations for Tam and Rhys in chapter three 💕
@tamlinweek
Read on AO3; Preview of first chapter below :
Tamlin
The roar of the city filled Tamlin's senses as he stepped out of his apartment building. It was a much nicer place than the one he had shared with his friends Andras and Lucien five years ago before he was hired at Velaris & Illyria, one of the top companies in the city. One look at their small apartment had his boss renting him an apartment in his building, just a few floors down from his penthouse. He 'couldn't have his assistant living in squalor,' he had said, but Tamlin thinks he just wanted him nearby so he could bother him at all times of day and night.
He waves to the doorman who is standing outside and starts walking towards the subway, wondering how far he'd get this time.
Fifteen steps apparently, as he heard a horn beep and turned to see the familiar black town car pull up beside him. The backseat window rolled down and his boss called out, not even looking up from his phone.
"Get in, Tamlin."
Tamlin sighed before striding to the car and getting in the back beside his boss.
Rhysand Velaris.
"I can take the subway, you know. You don't need to drive me."
"Hello to you too, cub." Rhys said, using the nickname Tamlin despised. It had started when Tamlin had accidentally knocked over Rhys' coffee in his early days after getting too excited about being invited on his first business trip and Rhys had said he was 'overenthusiatic and clumsy like a lion cub'. "Besides, I'm not driving you. Keir is."
"Hello Mr.Velaris, and it's the same thing. It doesn't look good for me to be getting a ride with you."
"Rhys." He corrects, ignoring Tamlin's attempt at professionalism. "And what does it matter what it looks like? We live in the same building, we work in the same place. It makes perfect sense."
"It makes me look favored."
"You are favored. You're my assistant, you're much more important than the rest of them."
Tamlin dropped his head back in exasperation. "That's not true and it makes people dislike me."
"Then they aren't worth your time. Now, what is on the agenda today?" Rhys asked, changing the subject.
Sighing, Tamlin pulled out his phone, the newest model of course, since Rhysand couldn't have his assistant using last month's version. He pulls up the calendar. "You have a meeting with the board at 9 am. A lunch date with your cousin Morrigan at 12:30 pm to discuss the upcoming charity gala and then a meeting with Ms.Archeron at 2 pm to discuss a merger."
"Which Archeron?"
Tamlin opens the email and finds the one he's looking for "Feyre."
Rhys groans, "Why can't they ever send Nesta? She's more professional than her sister."
"She has little patience for these meetings. Feyre is better with people."
"Better in wasting her time trying to seduce them.”
Tamlin looked at him, an amused look on his face. "Are you still upset that she made moves on Mr. Adriata after you agreed to meet her for drinks?"
Rhys shot him a look and he almost regretted asking "No. I was never serious about her, I just wanted to get her off my back. It doesn't change the fact that she is annoying."
"If you say so, sir."
Rhys' eyes flash at that and when he asks Keir to lift the partition, Tamlin knows what's coming.
"Mr. Velaris..."
"Rhys. You know what you calling me sir does to me." Rhysand says as he puts his phone down and unbuckles his pants. "Get on your knees for me, cub."
Tamlin gulps but undoes his seatbelt and gets down on his knees in front of Rhys, his own erection stirring in his pants. "Yes, Rhys."
Squeezed in a final post for @tamlinweek ! Everyone should admire the peaches on our Spring King!
Originally meant for the limerick day but am in the middle of moving. Thanks to everyone for such a wonderful week filled with so much Tamlin love!
Outfit and Tattoo inspiraiton credit to @lifeisabiscuit ❤️
First for the blooming meadow, signalling the miraculous rebirth of Spring.
And second, in honour of my dear friend and trusted sentry, who sacrificed his life to end the Curse,
Andras of the Westerlunds."
Tamlin smiled down at the sleeping infant. His daughter. This little creature, this innocent babe for whom his entire world spun. His heart could break from how he loved her so. Her little fingers curled tight about his finger, and he could feel the cracking begin.
"I name her Ardis. Ardis Silverthorne of The Spring Court."
WOO! Last TamlinWeek piece! And we have the return of my acotar Wild West AU. Featuring Tamlin and his horse who I’ve named Beltane after the ‘May Day’ festival that is the Gaelic counterpart to Calamai in the books and Calan Mai in the real world (which is a Welsh celebration). Beltane meaning ‘bright/lucky fire’ or ‘fire of bel’. (As these are real world practices/celebrations please lemme know if I’ve gotten anything wrong!)
I sounded the two with spring flowers including:
Foxglove: healing, protection and magic. (I know there’s more negative traits to the flower but I went with these ones for him.)
Daffodils: rebirth, new beginnings and joy.
@tamlinweek / dividers by @olenvasynyt thank you so much for making them!
