dream in gold

you look at them like they're the ocean and you're desperate to drown. written by lisa.

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DIRECTORY

*these are mostly vibes, and this will probably be updated as i go, and i’m also too lazy for pretty graphics so just take it as it is pls

eléa laverren | autumn court lady

eléa is one of the youngest of the laverren family, and where many others in her position would love to have work to do and something to focus on, she doesn’t care about anything like that. eléa excels at living her life without truly doing any hard work. she is easily bored, and when she doesn’t use the boredom to practice her magic, she can be found running around to find others to annoy. she is very much an extroverted soul and loves an interesting conversation. she knows everyone at the autumn court by name, and usually has a few facts up her sleeve to make them feel as if she truly knows them. as much as she loves people, she also loves to just sit in front of a fire and let her thoughts wander or take a walk around the forests.

fae / not promised / madelyn cline

filiz sadik | night court spy

when filiz was young, no one took her seriously. and to this day, that has still remained with some. others looked at the pretty fae thinking there was not much more to her than pretty eyes, porcelain skin, and silky hair. no one expect as much wit and intelligence to be sitting behind those exact same pretty eyes. filiz was easily annoyed when she was brushed off by those older or seemingly wiser than her, but with time, she learned how to appreciate the perks behind it. filiz learned that since no one took her seriously and expected her to be just a pretty shell, no one shied away to talk about more serious topics in front of her. she learned to blend into the shadows, or to make people believe she did not understand a thing they talked about by sporting a pretty smile. behind that facade, filiz memorized secrets of everyone she passed. with time, she also added the skill of seduction to her palette, luring information from others with her lips and tongue. filiz prides herself on having become one of the most successful spies for the night court, collecting secrets like trophies, and keeping them all close to her in case she can use them one day.

fae / not promised / ayca aysin turan

maël desjardins | spring court high lord

one could argue that maël was not exactly made to be a high lord, even if he was born into the line. he is not exactly thrilled to have as much responsibility thrust onto his shoulders, and is constantly trying to dodge it by delegating important tasks to the people around him - basically, his court is run by anyone but him. maël became high lord at quite a young age after the sudden death of his father, he had not enough knowledge to really be good at his job, and that showed. while maël is incredibly charming and good at making people feel cherished and loved, everything important is not his strong suit. right after his father’s death, he was so lost that his uncle stepped in and helped him with almost everything. he was not a kind man though, and often made it clear with actions and words that he did not see maël to be fit to be a high lord. while maël licked his wounds in his sister’s arms, his uncle plotted his death behind his back. though one day, his uncle disappeared without a trace. maël did not think much of it, but was glad to get rid of the man. maël has become a bit better at being high lord over the years, but still prefers to leave the important tasks to his hand (also has no idea of all the bad things going on behind the scenes as his hand keeps them from him). sidenote: he loves to shapeshift into a big eagle to fly around and escape his responsibilities. also the only other thing he got going for him is that he is great at curse breaking and knows how to throw a good ball!

fae / not promised (but might be screwing his hand behind the scenes) / jannik schümann

rémi rousseau | mortal lands war general

rémi was born as just a simply boy with a single mother after his father died in battle. though he never came to know the man, he was hellbent of following in his father’s footstep, no matter what it might cost. at five years old, he would train with the older kids on the street with a wooden sword in hand, at age eleven he was already carrying a real sword. he would not stop, no matter how often he could barely walk because of injuries or muscle aches. eventually, he succeeded to make it, with hard work he climbed the ladder to become war general. since, he’s fought many battles, and hardly lived his life for himself. he knows how to let off some steam and frustrations, but he holds his position to a very high standard and would never compromise it for anything. loyal to the end.

human / not promised / ben barnes

rhys theroux | winter court spymaster

ever since he was a young boy, rhys wanted to be one of the most important and influential people at the winter court. he watched those surrounding the high lord and lady in awe, and dreamt of one day walking next to them and whispering secrets into their ears. instead, he trained to become one of their army, and for a long time, he was successful at what he did. many watched him and thought he would become war general one day, and when he had almost made it, a battle injury stopped him from pursuing a path he never fully enjoyed anyway. while the injury healed, it opened his eyes to what he really wanted. he didn’t want mindless fights on a battlefield, to command armies to war. he wanted to be the master in the shadow, to weave a web behind the scenes. as someone who already held a high reputation, it turned out to be easier than he thought to slide into the role of the spymaster. what rhys did not expect, however, was to fall for his high lady. his integrity as spymaster might be questionable anyway, but he did not expect to end up wanting his own high lady. in fact, he can often be found grumpy and brooding because of the situation. at times, he flirts to make her jealous, but he never seriously goes a route beyond that, as his heart is already taken. 

fae / not officially promised but a complete goner for his high lady / casey deidrick

şeyda suvari | winter court lady

growing up, all şeyda knew was living poor. she knew dreamy stories, had heard whispers about the fact that it used to be different for their family - that her mother was nobility, and that something had happened that made the family lose all its titles and lands. but to şeyda these whispers often sounded like the story of someone else. she and her sister never had anything good growing up, except each other. eventually, her sister then managed to get them out from where they started - as selin became the high lady of winter court, at first şeyda was incredibly grateful to be able to follow her sister to court, and that selin made sure she was well respected. but soon enough şeyda started to wish she could fend for herself. she wanted to be independent, to not have to rely on her sister’s power. she now saw how courts worked, and she knew she had to make sure no matter what happened, she would be well off herself. unfortunately, when her sister made sure she would find a betrothed, said man didn’t seem to find much interest in şeyda. for the better part of 15 years she has been trying to face the man she is supposed to marry, but he has dodged all of her attempts to meet him. with time, şeyda has grown quite frustrated, and most people at the winter court have learned not to annoy her until absolutely necessary. the only exception to the rule is, of course, her sister.

fae / has a betrothed but is starting to think he doesn’t actually exist / hande ercel

talayeh rashidi | summer court healer

talayeh doesn’t remember a life in which she was not alone. the fae lost her family when she was just a child, and for a long time, she was just a shadow in the lives of fae around her - forgotten in a corner, missed at dinner, left to fend for herself. as a gentle soul, talayeh never found anyone to be guilty of doing these things on purpose. she saw how other families could be loving or the opposite, how some fae children had siblings to play or fight with, but to her none of that ever seemed real. it was hard for her to fathom what it must be like to not be alone in life, and alone with your thoughts. she is a quiet woman, one who doesn’t mind being silent for hours on end. when she speaks, her voice is usually quiet, as she learned as a child not to disturb anyone by speaking too loudly. her impressive healing skills were discovered by accident, when she came to the aid of a man in need. she healed his severe wounds quickly, and soon enough, for the first time in her life, people were talking about her. talayeh was eventually promoted to become healer at court, an honour for her. while she doesn’t particularly see the sense in fights, she is happy help anyone in need without judging them for their actions.

fae / not promised / golshifteh farahani

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eli & cela​:

She was always more suited to the life of spying than people gave her credit for. What was once considered a mere dalliance has now become her way of life, and none could say Cela did not prove her usefulness. A dead king on their doorstep certainly made for interesting times, putting her to work more than usual in the walls of their home, looking for conspiracy and blame. But there has never been a time in Cela’s life that she could not make room for Eli. Even when the world was falling down around them. “And to think, here I come with all the details,” she broaches playfully, removing the hood from atop her head and setting it against her shoulders, revealing the raven’s hair beneath and the smirk that sits against her lips. Two things so signature for the spy. “What would suit you, then?” She makes herself comfortable by taking a seat on top of his workbench, only out of the way of his workspace by inches. “Have you grown new interest in impalement?” She asks, eyeing the stake in his hand. 

      Eli sometimes liked to joke that he noticed Cela’s presence before she was actually within view. As if over the years, his whole being had become so intertwined with hers that he knew she’d be with him before his body could in fact sense her. The corners of his lips lifted up into a smile before she even spoke up, and he glanced past a dark curl that had fallen into his eyes to look up at her. To think they’d fled the mess in their original home -- only to end up in the next best mess. But as long as she was there, he’d survive that, too. “I would like to stay as blissfully unaware of what is going on as I possibly can.” There was a reason why he had turned his back on the life of a spy when they had arrived at this court. He was tired of the intrigues, of families ripped apart, of being the one to carry the burden of secrets on his shoulders. “Something more light-hearted, maybe. Do you only have the grim secrets or some gossip as well?”, he teased her, his hands not once stopping in their task of carving the wooden stake in his hand. Eli shrugged his shoulders, before he said, “Not yet, but you never know, do you? Maybe it will come in handy for one of the new monsters that seem to grow from the shadows left and right.”

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OPEN to anyone who wants to assume connections

      Alethea was aware that a man had died. A king had died, no less. And yes, she was aware that it was awful, especially considering the rumors she’d heard about how exactly he’d been killed. And yet she found it in incredibly inconvenient. As if her mother had needed another reason to follow her like a shadow and not allow any fun into her life. No, ever since they had returned from the Winter Solstice, her mother was keen on keeping Thea within her chambers as to keep her safe. Well, she was certain she would lose her mind if she stayed in that room, or any room with her mother in it, for another minute. And so she had decided to slip away -- an easy task for someone who had perfected the art of running away unseen over the years. She had bought one of her favorite pastries, and was leaning against a wall, her nose turned up to enjoy a few sun rays. When she noticed a pair of eyes on her, she glanced up, and an almost tortured smile appeared on her lips when she caught sight of a familiar face. “Before you say anything,” she started, pulling apart the pastry in her fingers, “I’ll share my food with you if you promise not to tell my mother you saw me here.”

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OPEN to anyone who wants to assume connections

       The world was a ridiculous place. People tore each other apart like animals, killed their closest family, and expected it to be okay. That they could do whatever they wanted, to get what they desired. And Eli was incredibly relieved that he no longer actively worked as a spy, for he did not want to know whatever was bubbling underneath the surface. Because this was bad enough already. Of course he knew he hadn’t left all evil behind when fleeing Spring Court -- hell, he knew there was much more evil festering everywhere else than in his original home. But for his own taste, it hadn’t been long enough since the last catastrophe he had to witness. To keep his mind occupied and his hands busy, he’d returned to the task he found so much peace in. Away from his blacksmith’s shop, he returned to the most simple task there was; a piece of wood in one hand, a knife in the other, carving a stake bit by bit. A pair of shoes appeared in his peripheral vision, and a sigh escaped his lips. “I’m not interested in talking about the dead king. So if you’ve come to do that, you can leave. If there’s something else, feel free,” he added, gesturing to the free space next to him.

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calix & valeria​:

She wasn’t yet sure if she liked the way that he studied her— the sweep of long lashes and those dark, intelligent eyes held her in a way that felt like he was peeling layers apart, trying to peer through the papery thin coverings that concealed a rotten heart. Valeria lifted her chin, forming walls around herself, submitting to the cold that was characteristic of the court she now lived. “I’m sorry for it too,” she snorted. It was a story she wanted to tell him, a pull that was far more fervent than it had any right to. Often, she told the tale of her youth to men whose eyes shone with pity, and she twisted it like a knife until their gazes were wet with shame. I could fly once, I was the most beautiful thing in the wretched Night Court— but it was taken away by men who should have protected me. Her brothers were not present tonight, or they would find the end of her blade for the gall to even enter the same room as she. “Just your head? It’s not too steep of a cost,” Valeria teased, “But I’ll spare you having to commit treason within earshot of your High Lady.”

      The world was a cruel place, Calix had learned that the hard way. But he was not oblivious -- he knew there were even harder ways to learn it. He was a healer, and he saw what one could do to another every day. Punishments were different everywhere, but he did not doubt that she did indeed face the worst of them. Why else would she have built such a high and thick wall around herself? “I’m quite attached to my head, even if you can’t understand why.” It was the most hesitant tease, paired with a tiny smile. A peace offering, almost. But Calix had no illusions that it might go the other way in the end. “But thank you. That’s very kind of you.” He did a little bow, his eyes instantly moving around to find said High Lady. He’d said nothing too risky, but the insinuation of his words could already be enough if caught by the wrong ears. “I hope I can trust you not to go running to her.” His lips pressed together, and he glanced down at his hands, wondering for a split moment how much more good they could do if they worked for the court that had taken him with so much more kindness, where his soul and mind had been at peace. But Calix freed himself from such thoughts and looked over at her. “Am I going to get in trouble for distracting you?”

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maël & eiran​:

He pressed a kiss to Mael’s temple, then to the plane of his cheekbone, before peppering affection down his throat. It was there that he could feel his High Lord’s panic, the bleat of his heart— like something lost and shrieking to be found. Eiran crushed the younger fae into himself, feeling the contented rush of affection that echoed in both of their souls: they were bound, it was when they were apart that he felt the most unsure. It was now that he had to be sure for the both of them, something sharpened and dazzling: a blade when Mael had never held one. “I cannot say who it was, it wasn’t clear.” He tucked in a furious breath— he would see Aras later, to find out what the spymaster had come across. “There was something festering, something ugly there. We’ll find it.” Eiran found that blue gaze, and reached to stroke Mael’s jawline. He hid most ugly things from him, but this was unavoidable and painted out in logical strokes. “It all depends on what Luceryn does, but I see no alternative but war. His father was murdered by fae, and his entire line was insulted in the same act. If he does not act, the court will swallow his land. If he does, the fae will slaughter his people. We must prepare.”

      Maël found comfort in Eiran’s touch, melting into the other’s body as if they were one -- and at times, that was what it felt like. He was not sure how he would survive without his hand, both outside of this room and in here with no eyes watching the ways their hands knew each other’s body by heart. And yet he could not be the young boy who just wanted to roll around in the sheets for fun. Now, Maël had to be a true High Lord -- one who did not only ride the highs, but also faced the lows with straight shoulders. But the truth was, he was afraid of failure. Afraid of not being good enough. He’d never wanted to see war, be part of it even less. But the mortal realms were their allies. His sister was betrothed to one of them. Maël ran his hands through his hair, causing the blonde strands to stand up as if he’d been hit by lighting. Without thinking much about it, he started pulling off his clothes, as if ridding himself of the fabric he’d worn at the winter court could make what happened appear more like a bad dream. “We don’t even have a proper army, do we?” His voice shook slightly, and blue eyes searched for dark ones in another attempt to find stability. “How are we going to fight? We’re not prepared. We need time.” But time might be the one thing they did not have now.

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imogene & filiz​:

Imogene’s heart stilled and then stuttered in her chest— a king was dead.  He was to be her future father-in-law, she had met him on her few visits to the Mortal Lands and had done all that she could to impress in the short span that they had shared one another’s presence. “Who did it?” Murder was unforgivable, there were laws and jailers and cold dark places in the very tip of their world: but punishment would be more severe for anyone who thought to blot out a ruler. Her face had lost its colour, and as both hands lifted to rake her dark hair back away from her face, Imogene wasn’t sure if she truly wanted to know. I figured no one else would. The words were a blade, positioned carefully between the netting of her ribs and then twisted up: finding soft organ-flesh and spilling blood without pity. Hurt clung to her features, but it was the truth, plain and in front of her— in the end, she did not matter. Her next breath was shuddering, but she drew her shoulders up. “I am the sister of the High Lord of Spring,” if she said it for Filiz or for herself, she could not tell. “I have magic enough.” Her hand held out, and the fingers trembled while outstretched. “Come with me, please.”

      “No one knows yet.” The words easily slipped from Filiz’ lips, meant to calm the other more than anything else. She didn’t like the way the other’s porcelain skin turned even more pale, or how shaky fingers messed up her dark curls even more. Her own fingers itched to reach out for Imogene’s, to hold and calm them, but to prevent herself from giving into such a ridiculous need, she curled her hands into fists by her sides. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the other, and she shook her head ever so slightly. “I didn’t think you don’t have enough magic.” If someone knew what it felt like to be underestimated, it was the spy who had perfected using a hundred different facades as a result of being underestimated for years herself. She did not question Imogene’s magic, figured it might be more than her own in a blatant comparison -- but even so, she could not just take her hand and trust her. Blue eyes narrowed in on the hand that hung in the air between them like an invitation. “Come with you? To the Spring Court?”, she clarified, arching her brow. “What makes you think that’s a good idea? I’m expected to help my court.”

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eléa & maverick​:

›     ELÉA LAVERREN, @starsaligncd​

›     MORNING AFTER WINTER SOLSTICE

“I need you to pack your things. You’re leaving.” It wasn’t the greet he had wished to give his baby sister this late morning, nor was it the type of discussion he planned on having when she should have been in bed resting and soaking up the rest of her days in blissful celebrations following the Winter Solstice, but ever since his leave this morning there had been this constant concern festering in the back of his mind that he couldn’t seem to shake. He had placed his trust in the hands of his war general, Eléa’s safety a priority for them both,  and while he trusted Gavriel to keep her out of harms way and out of this mess they’ve all been brought into whilst he was away, Maverick knew he’d relax as best as he could knowing the youngest of the Laverren’s was no where on this frozen land while tension and suspicion rose around them over the death of this mortal king. “—Gavriel will be waiting to take you home and I want you to stay there until I return. I don’t want you here in the middle of all this.” 

       Eléa’s appearance had turned disheveled, one sleeve of her dress had slipped from her shoulder, and her hair that had been captured in beautiful waves and carefully placed braids was messy from all the times she had run her hands through them. The young fae had come here to have fun, but everything had turned sour and bitter -- and a bit scary. She hadn’t changed her clothes, nor done anything else that was productive ever since she’d been escorted back to her room. She should have packed her things by now, but instead they lay strewn around when her brother’s voice reached her ears. Eléa rose from the floor and turned to face Maverick. She had always loved to pretend like she was the bravest girl in the room, mostly because of her brothers. But right now, she didn’t hide the fear that had etched itself into the lines of her face. “You’re not coming home?”, she asked, panic causing her voice to tremble. “But -- but what if they get you, too?” That had been what occupied her thoughts ever since news of the dead king reached her. That more would die, and that one of her family would end up dead as well. “It’s not safe here.” 

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valeria & calix​:

She wanted to prove him wrong, to snarl down his throat that she knew all too well that the creatures that wore wolves clothing were wolves— and that sheep knew better than to wear the skins of those that would see them torn to ribbons. Valeria’s upper lip curved into something cruel: she was a beast of the Permafrost and she cared little for her wisdom being called into question. “Things are hardly ever complicated, the world is never beautiful under the surface.” She narrowed verdant eyes, and the rest of her features hardened to match. “They tell children here stories of the ice. The beautiful and deadly top layer, the kiss of cold against water. We look through its surface, as though it is glass, down at the fish that still live in the longest of nights.” Valeria didn’t move from his side, eying him viciously. “The water is beautiful, but nothing in our court kills faster than when you are treading within it. I do not trust, because I already know what lies beneath.”

      Calix listened intently to her words, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her. To see the world so cruelly, to find no beauty in it, no trust. Even after everything he’d been through, he remembered the time in the court that had taken him in as if it was his actual home, and the memories kept him afloat even in his darkest times at the night court. His brows furrowed as dark eyes took in her features -- he wished he could make her see the truth, who he really was underneath the layers of his clothes. But a hint was all he could give. It would end deadly if he opened up about not supporting his court in the slightest, especially in a foreign court, around so many people he did not know. And as much as Calix despised his current life, he did not wish to die as long as he could still help those in need. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you that made it impossible for you to see beyond the water.” He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “I would tell you my real thoughts, but I’m afraid it could cost me my head.”

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maël & eiran​:

“Someone will return for her.” He had nothing to back up the words, it was a promise made empty as dark eyes found the brunette who was all but getting swallowed by the crowd. She was a princess of a court that had not made war its priority— the others were riddled with defences and soldiers, but they had been foolishness to assume that it was simply a party. When blue eyes lifted to his own, they were lost— Eiran saw his own reflection mirrored back in them, and he nodded at the word. Home. A place that they shared, someplace warm. He wrapped his hand around Mael’s forearm, tucking in a breath before he winnowed them both out of the mess of the Winter Court. He could smell the flowers first, the buzzing of insects that made their home feel so alive— and the quiet that flooded from the empty chamber in the Spring Court made him reach forward, clutching the High Lord to him. “If it had been you.” He dared not say the rest, focusing on the steady hammer of the other’s heart. “There will be consequences for this, we must prepare.”

      Snow and cold made space for the sound of chirping birds, and the smell of flowers in the air. It should have been silly how much Maël calmed simply at the familiarity of his home court. But maybe after what had happened, what they’d barely slipped away from, it wasn’t so silly at all. Here he felt safe, even if he already knew in the back of his mind that they had to do something about the lack of defense. In the loneliness and safety of his chambers, he melted into Eiran’s embrace. Something he’d longed for since they first arrived at the winter court, and now needed so much more than when he first saw the snowflakes in the air. His hands held onto Eiran as if he was barely staying afloat, and he buried his face against the side of the other’s neck as he tried to calm the panicked beating of his heart. “I knew something was wrong.” What he’d put off to simply feeling uneasy about such a big festivity, had maybe been more than that. His uncle had always called him out for being too sensitive; tonight he’d felt like horror was sitting in the walls, and it had shown its true face. Eventually, Maël pulled back to be able to look up at his hand, fear sparking in his eyes. “You mean there will be fighting?”

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rémi & elowyn​:

Barely. The reply only echoing within the confines of her chest. She was barely breathing, reliant on distractions, things she could touch, feel - heat and pain, things she could do - to ward off the gut churning sight that was branded in her mind. “ We all failed him. “ The counter lifeless as her gaze bore into the wooden table. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered if his guards had been watching him morning, noon, and night, beyond hand to hand combat - humans had nothing to ward against the fae and their abilities. Their magic. They had the upper hand, and if it was their mission to slaughter mere mortals, they would find a way to do it. Elowyn licked her fingers before holding them to the wick, snuffing out the flame before she pushed up from her seat, her palm meeting Rémi’s forearm as she looked at him. “ Had you been there, you’d probably be in ribbons, too. “ A casual air to the way she stated such grim facts. 

       She was right, but that didn’t make the situation any better. At the end of the day, maybe the only way they could have prevented this was to not attend the winter solstice. They should have stayed out of reach of the minds of fae. Out of reach of their magic. Humans would always be inferior to them, even if Rémi often didn’t like to commit to that thought. His eyes met hers, and he could barely hold back the words that he would have preferred it that way. To lie out there in the snow, no longer aware of what happened going forward. It was a grim thought, but he would have swapped places with their king in a heartbeat if he could. He lowered his gaze and shook his head, as if to ban those dark thoughts from his mind. “They will target us again. This is probably just the beginning.” He lifted a hand to run it through his hair that was already messy from how often he’d done so. “Maybe it’s only a matter of time until another one of ours will find the same end.”

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eléa & gavriel:

“ A King he may have been, Lady Eléa, but in the end, he was only human - and weak flesh makes weak kings. “ Reciting the words that had been painted so skillfully in the snow. At least it was a memorable way to go, if nothing else. Gavriel had to use restraint to keep the slight amusement from his features, clearing his throat before returning his gaze to the frightened fae clinging to him. “ You do not have weak skin Eléa Laverren. You were born with fire in your blood. Do not forget that. “ While the Princess of the Autumn Court may have been young, there was power within her veins, something the mortal from the human lands severely lacked. The General placed a hand atop her head, ruffling the blonde strands - a gesture he’d made time and time again in less stressful circumstances. “ I’ll escort you to your chambers so you can collect your things. Everyone will make it home. “ He would personally track down each member of their court if need be. 

      The words caused goosebumps to rise on Eléa’s skin. She had never believed that anyone was better than another, that there was a difference between weakness and strength. She was not embedded in the politics of the courts enough to believe that the king of the mortal lands had deserved this fate, to believe that he had been weak. “But there are those with stronger skin than me.” Eléa was not stupid, she knew better than to think she was the strongest person in the room. She could pretend it in front of her brothers all she wanted, it would never make it true. It was a wonder to her, how he could stay so calm in this situation. But maybe that was part of why he was in his position. “Are you sure you don’t have more important things to do? I’d understand.” But the way Eléa still clutched onto his arm for safety showed her words to be lies. If she had to, she would make it to her room and back, but she’d much rather not do it alone. 

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kasim & bia​:

Whoever was to blame for the dismembered human in the gardens surely knew how to ruin a decent celebration. What should have been a peaceful morning filled with tired grins and remarks of how wonderful the festivities last night had been, was turned into a frantic disaster, any good the coming together had brought, undone just as quickly. Perhaps that was the intended goal. Courts second guessing those in their presence, reevaluating who they could or could not trust, the Mother knew it didn’t make their job any easier. “ Possibly. “ Bia agreed, though there was a curiosity that lingered in her eyes. “ Though perhaps that’s what they’re betting on. Courts deemed unsafe, bonds undone… “ 

       Kasim wondered why he’d attended the winter solstice in the first place. He’d never been one for big festivities, and he’d certainly stopped celebrating after losing his family and stepping back from his station as war general. It had been a rash decision to accompany his court, and now he wondered why fate had decided to ruin what had been wonderful just last night. “Of course that’s what they’re betting on. A court is never as unstable as when they doubt their allies. When they maybe even start doubting those within their own lines.” Kasim spoke from experience, because in all those years of not knowing who had killed his family, he had often wondered if it could have been someone fighting by his side. “It’s easy to overwhelm those with fragility taking over their minds when they start doubting everyone and everything.”

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rhys & selin​:

Whatever horror Selin’s mind could conjure, the outcome is only slightly less horrible. A dignitary dead, a king dead, happened on their watch, in their land. The news nearly knocks the breath from her lips, shock coating the High Lady’s features. Were it not for Rhys guiding their steps, it’s likely she would have come to a half right there in the hallway as the information sinks in. “What. Happened.” The words come out a hiss, low but demanding all the same — not a woman speaking to her lover, but a ruler and her subject. Her eyes flit around the halls, searching for shadows out of place, the idea that there could be someone around with ill intent. To either spy or strike against them, it would all bring them harm now. She’s shepherded into a quiet room, nowhere near her own quarters but out of the line of sight for anyone else who still roams the castle at this early hour. At another time, Selin would love nothing more than to sink into the gentleness of Rhys’s hands, rest her head against his chest and listen to the thrumming of his heartbeat. But instead her thoughts move too fast, stuck on the fact that while he would seek to protect her, there are those who for Selin she would risk her life. “Osman.” Fear bubbles up, a mother’s instinct, clawing it’s way through any composure she had previously wrangled. “I need to get to him, I need—” her words cut off, choked in their urgency. Her baby, she has to keep him safe. “Move, Rhys.”

       Rhys would not keep any of the gruesome details to himself -- Selin needed to know, and he knew she could handle it. This had happened on their watch, at their festivities. As much as it was a strike against the mortal realms, it was one against them. Because it made them look weak. Still, he needed her safe first of all. His thoughts had traveled to Osman already, knowing the young boy could be a likely target as well considering the responsibility that would rest upon his shoulders one day. But when Selin tried to push past him, he stopped her. “No.” His voice was low but stern as he looked at her, hands on her upper arms to stop her from moving. “I need you to stay here. I’ll get him.” He was good at winnowing, much better than most. It would be the fastest and safest way to get Osman. Hand slipping underneath the layers of his clothes, he retrieved the weapon he’d hidden there, hoping he would not need it tonight. Things could change so fast. He pressed it into Selin’s hand and closed her fingers around it. “Remember what I taught you, yes? For the jugular if you can.” He wouldn’t be gone for long, but deaths could happen within seconds. And while he trusted this room to be safe for now, he would never trust anyone or anything one hundred percent. 

        He took one last long look at her, before he winnowed to Osman’s room. Alert eyes searched the dark corners for intruders, but couldn’t find any. The boy was safe asleep in his bed, and stirred when Rhys lifted him up carefully. He mumbled reassuring words, not staying longer than necessary. The last thing he wanted was to coax Selin out of the room if he took longer than she thought he should take. Instead, he winnowed with Osman back to where he’d left her, gently setting Osman down on the ground before her so she could see for herself that he was still in one piece.

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filiz & imogene​:

Her fingers threaded through the other’s grip, allowing herself to be yanked away from the scrabbling hands and the horror that had filled the main hall. Still, she looked back behind her, at the place that Mael had just been. The familiar crown of golden hair was gone, and the truth remained, acrid on her tongue: he had left her behind. “The King is dead?” She blinked, wide eyes still glassy. “How?” She had seen the fae that had roamed the halls and the main rooms, those with their gleaming silver swords and surly expressions. The Wolves, Rennick had whispered by her ear, using his sing-song tone to spin a tale of the wild women of the Permafrost who could carve any army down to ribbons. How had they failed? The two stumbled into a place that was quiet, and Imogene slumped against the wall, dragging a hand through her dark hair. More flowers fell, the petals discarded from their weaving in her plaits, and she shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” Her hands trembled, her voice was thick even as she willed it to maintain its tone. Imogene looked over, studying Filiz’s features. “You came for me.” She tucked in another breath, looking up through long lashes. “Thank you.”

      “He was killed.” Filiz did not dare go into more detail. Imogene seemed fragile at best, and she wasn’t sure how she would take the news of how exactly the king had been killed, and what had been written into the snow. She also did not think she should be the one to tell her anyway, her brother could decide whether she was strong enough to stomach the news, or needed to know them. It was wrong enough that she had saved a woman from spring court, instead of looking for her own court first. Then again she knew they were more than capable of looking after themselves, whereas Imogene was most likely not. “I figured no one else would. Your court is not exactly known for their skilled fighters and great armies.” It was only a tiny jab, not even meant in a mean way. It was simply the truth. But what Filiz did not say was how her heart had forced her to get Imogene away from the masses of panicked people, that she felt as if she could not breathe if she did not save the other woman. Dark eyes fell to her hands that smoothed over her gown once more. “I’m not the best at winnowing. I’m afraid I cannot get you out of here like that.”

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şeyda & sylas​:

So she has been abandoned. That would explain her prickly disposition, the reason such a night has been soured. Their loss would be his gain, then, because the Autumn lord for one cannot imagine leaving such a beauty to simmer in her offense. “Were I to find him, I would mark him a fool to his face.” Sylas says easily, a smirk climbing against his lips. To have her stand on the arm of a prince would certainly bring jealousy to whoever had jilted her so, a prize that they had overlooked only for him to claim. “If I may,” he begins, but Sylas has always reached for more than what may be allowed to him, a boldness to the man that came from the status afforded to him by birth. “Perhaps to see you out spinning on the floor with another, shining in attention instead of hidden away in this corner, would be certain to fill his heart with envy.” Humility has never been a trait he could lay claim to, well aware of his own handsomeness in the eyes of others, before his title ever even comes into consideration. Even those that did not know, would look upon the pair of them and simmer. “That I am.” And all too happy of it as well, the words are spoken with pride in his chest, though he does not reveal himself for his princely nature just yet. That’s a card he holds close to his chest for later. “Wise words. A pity most do not abide by them.” It’s a mental note he tucks away, a small reminder that ice can burn as much as fire — that there is a willfulness to her, a preference for things wild.

     “Don’t worry about it. I’m planning to do that myself.” Şeyda strongly believed that the man her sister had chosen for her would see what he’d been missing all this time that he’d avoided her. She knew she was beautiful, and her sister had taught her all the tricks needed to make a man melt into a puddle before you. She had learned from the best, after all her sister had made it to high lady of winter court. If Selin didn’t know how to make a man fall for a woman, then who did? Her head tilted to the side, and she pursed her lips slightly. So far, Şeyda had refrained from being seen with any other man. It could easily backfire, she was aware of that much. It had also never really been an option -- her cold appearance often scared most away, not only Ilar’s children. “Is that how you would feel? If you were to see the woman you’re supposed to marry dance with another?” She figured a man like him probably did not even have an arrangement such as that one. Why else would he put the disgrace of pursuing other women over himself and the promised one? He was handsome, she could admit as much, and a part of her wanted nothing more than to have the man she was supposed to marry be overwhelmed with want for her. But as she did not know him, how was she supposed to know the way his mind worked? “It’s a funny coincidence,” she stated then, a taunting smirk on her lips. “The man I’m promised to happens to be from your court.”