NGL if Tarquin had told me I’m a very easy person to love after I’d been kidnapped by the evil High Lord of Night no mating bond is stopping me from running into his arms😂😂😂😂😂
“Feyre,” Mor was saying, fingers digging into my shoulders through my leathers. “Feyre.”
Idk what to say, it's just a mother Feymor moment and I love them
“This way,” Mor said, and looped her arm around my waist as she led me into a dusty, empty alley. [...] I made it to a pile of fallen stones from the half-wrecked building beside us when I vomited again. And again. Mor put a hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles as I retched. “I did the same after my first battle. We all did.”
Mor reassuring Feyre and calming her down 😭❤️
Blood and sweat still coated me. I tried to remember the usual fit of my soul in my body, the priority of things, my way of looking at the world. What to do with my limbs in the stillness. How did I usually position my hands without a blade between them? How did I stop moving? Mor squeezed my shoulder, as if she understood the racing thoughts, the foreignness of my body.
No words, just them
War would linger with me long after it had ended, some invisible scar that would perhaps fade, but never wholly vanish. But for my home, for Prythian and the human territory and so many others … I would clean my blades, and wash the blood from my skin. And I would do it again and again and again.
AND THIS IS why Feyre is the best character in this whole damn series (and my whole world)
The Prince of Adriata rose to his feet. I did not have any magic left in me to shield. After seeing Rhys with the king, there was only an empty pit where my fear had been a wild sea within me. But I felt Mor’s power slide into place between us.
MOR IS SHIELDING HER
“Why?” Tarquin demanded, “Our dreams are the same,” was all I could think to say. [...] I spared him from the choice. “Tend to your wounded, Tarquin.” - “Don’t give me orders.” - “We are at your disposal,” I said to him, and walked out.
Please just give me a Feyre and Tarquin friendship.
“Take your mate and leave. And I’d suggest warning her not to give High Lords orders.” [...] Rhys said, “She is High Lady of the Night Court. She may do as she wishes.”
Today's prompt is dedicated to Feyre x Tarquin! For @sjmcrackshipmonth
Words: 2772
TW: none
The King wants to destroy the woods and with that the home of countless faeries, like Feyre. The prince Tarquin made a deal with a witch to unthrone the King but under rone ckndition: he Hase to take a bride before sundown.
"Twins are coming, looking for the girl in white."
Feyre looked at her sister as they all perched on a rack at the lake. Feyre let her legs dangle from the rock, Elain sat cross-legged at the edge and stared at the water's surface and sat straight-backed against the trunk of the tree.
"Are you sure she's a seer? Maybe she's recounting one of her fairytales." Feyre asked Nesta, who huffed annoyed in answer.
"I advise you not to tell mother." she told Feyre, "Stop complaining, you know it takes longer for seers to come in power and control their visions than other fairies."
Feyre looked at the bright blue sky, smiling at the cloud that looked like a butt. "I'm not complaining, I just think it's weird. Did you know that she stood at my bed last night and told me something about saving the fairies? That doesn't make sense, we don't need saving."
Nesta stayed quiet. Which wasn't weird if you didn't know Nesta like Feyre did. Usually, Nesta answered in grunts, and huffs and eyerolls and scoffs but now she just stayed silent, looking at the horizon.
"You're weird, too." Feyre told her, splashing some water with her foot.
Uncharacteristically for Nesta, she sighed. "I need to tell you something, but you can't tell anyone, okay?"
"Do I look like I have friends I could share anything with?" Feyre asked Nesta, who just stared. Feyre rolled her eyes, "I promise I won't tell anyone."
"The mortals are planning to destroy our forest." Nesta said quietly, "Father is in back to back meetings, discussing with other governors from different fairy towns in this forest and they are planning where to move."
Feyre gaped at Nesta. "You're lying!" she exclaimed and jumped up.
Her sister stiffened at Feyre's tone, her nostrils flaring, "I'm not! Why would I lie about this?"
"It can't be true!" Feyre balled her fists.
Nesta shook her head, "It is. Now sit back down, you can't change anything."
"They're coming." Elain said again, still staring at the lake.
"No they are not!" Feyre seethed, stomping down the path to their village. She could hear Nesta calling behind her but she didn't care. Feyre hurried through the bushes, thorns scratching her bare legs, ripping the hem of her blue dress.
She hoped it was a lie, an unfunny prank of her sister, that the house was empty when she stormed inside. It wasn't. Indeed, the governors were gathered around a table, in the midst of this was her father. "No! You can't do this!"
Her father's eyes widened at her intrusion. "Feyre," he put the paper down he was just reading. "How do you–" he shook his head, "Nevermind. There is no other way, they will destroy our home. We have to flee."
She shook her head in disbelief. "There has to be another way. Do you just want to sit by and watch?"
"They will kill us if we stay, if we put up a fight." another male from the round threw in, earning approving sounds.
"Do you have a better idea, girl?" another asked, warning laughs. They didn't take this seriously at all. This was their home and they just let it go. They had built their whole lives around this place. Feyre opened her mouth, to say what, she didn't know, but she didn't have to as her ears picked up the clattering of hooves. She turned around, standing at the side of the road. More people who picked up the sound came out of their houses and stopped their work to look at the commotion. Pretty much everyone was gathered by the time a carriage entered the streets of the village, stopping at the well beside the town hall where Feyre stood. She stepped closer when the door opened and two dark-skinned mortals stepped out, a man and a woman. Their white hair shimmered in the noon sun.
"Who is your leader?" asked the woman, the villagers looked all in Feyre's direction because behind her, her father stood. They stepped forward and handed her father a scroll. Sceptically, he took it from her and read it. "The prince sent you?" They both dipped their chins in confirmation. Her father huffed. "I will not send one of my people to marry into this family." he told them, giving back the scroll. "We are not interested?"
"Marry?" Feyre asked, but he ignored her.
"I would think about it. I heard that the current king is planning to destroy these woods. What a pity." she shrugged. "But if you are so sure."
"Why does the prince look for a wife?" Feyre asked.
It wasn't the woman who answered this time, but the man. "If he is to wed before sundown, he will become King. He is forbidden to take the throne without a wife at his side."
"Why does he look to take a fairy as a bride? I'm sure there are mortals who would sell their soul to become his bride."
"So many questions." the woman said. "For some reason prince Tarquin is concerned about the…inhabitants of these woods. It's not my job to ask questions, Lady, it's my job to bring this message forward. So either someone agrees to this arrangement or we will be on our way."
Feyre's gaze wandered to her father, who was wary of mortals. Of course he was, the current King would destroy their home and kill anyone who refuses to leave. But this was an opportunity to save them all. So Feyre stepped forward, straight back, as she often saw Nesta stand, and announced, "I will do it. I will become the prince's bride!"
Nesta caught her eye, as she had her arms wrapped around Elain and she stared at Feyre, wide-eyed. Feyre smiled at her, a wordless promise that she would be fine. The man and woman smiled satisfied.
"Come here, then," the man said, holding the door open for Feyre as the woman stepped to her father. She smiled at Nesta and Elain again, then entered the carriage, the eyes of every Villager on her. A few minutes later the woman took the place opposite from her, the man joining them last beside the woman, knocking on the ceiling, then the carriage started moving. She didn't look out the window, scared that seeing her sisters faces would change her mind.
The man took the scroll from the woman, stuffing it into the pocket of their jacket. "What are your names?"
"I'm Varian," the man smiled, "This is my sister, Cresseida."
The woman only nodded once, looking out the window.
"I'm Feyre." She introduced herself. "SO you are the siblings of prince Tarquin?"
"Cousins." Varian replied. Feyre took a look at him and decided she liked the male. He seemed nice, although he also gave the impression that he could be very serious if needed.
"Excuse my many questions," Feyre threw a look at Cresseida, "But why can the prince only we'd until sundown?"
Varian looked at his sister but she didn't deem to answer although she had turned her gaze towards Feyre. So Varian replied, "He made a deal with a witch, allowing him to take the throne under the condition that he would find a bride that very same day and marry her before the sun sets. He would have married a princess or a commoner if we hadn't found you but he was adamant that we, at least, tried to find a fairy. He wants peace between the peoples, that's what your leader had to sign before we could leave." he patted the inside pocket with the scroll. "It's noble of you to take this responsibility to save your folk." Cresseida huffed, Varian threw her a sidewards glance but continued. "The current King is a tyrant. Just know, Feyre, that you saved more than your own peoples life with your decision today."
Feyre turned her voice down, as if anyone outside the carriage could hear, "Is the King the reason the witches went into hiding years ago?"
"Yes." Cresseida said, her voice rawer than Feyre got to know it. Feyre nodded, it was hard to figure out the woman in front of her. She knew that Cresseida was wearing a mask, acting as if she was uncaring. Feyre looked through that the second she spoke but she didn't know what was hiding behind this mask, although she was sure she just glimpsed something.
They were mostly silent on their way back. It was afternoon when they reached the castle ground, practically running down the halls of the castle to get Feyre ready for the incoming ceremony.
Water was already gurgling in the adjacent bathing chamber. Maids ushered Feyre in the tub, scrubbing her clean and then ushering her out again. Weirdly, Feyre wasn't scared or annoyed. The maids weren't rude, just in a hurry. They asked her how she felt and Feyre told them she was fine, and she was. Admittedly, she was a little excited about this. Was that weird? She didn't know but she didn't have any time to think about it as the maids combed through her hair, and others put blush on her cheeks and painted Feyres lips a soft pink.
"Which one?" asked a dark haired maid, holding up two tiaras. Feyre's eyes wandered to an old looking wood box, where she could glimpse a flower crown.
"That!" She pointed to it.
The maid looked unsure, opening her mouth but Cresseidas voice sounded from the door. "The prince ordered to grant the lady every wish, let her wear the flower crown."
The maid nodded and retrieved the flower crown, setting it on Feyre's head. She smiled gratefully at Cresseida, who didn't return it. But her eyes didn't look so cold anymore. "I am to walk you down the aisle, lady."
"Please call me Feyre," she told her as another maid was taking measure of Feyre's ringfinger. Then they led Feyre in front of a mirror. She gasped. They put her into a white, flowy dress with tulip sleeves. Her skirt was glittering where the sun shone it and the bodice had a corsage. Feyre looked beautiful, as if someone had taken the dress directly out of her daydreams.
"Are you ready?" Cresseida asked, "It's time."
Feyre smiled brightly, "I'm ready!" she said, linking her arm with Cresseidas, ignoring the surprise lighting her eyes. Why would she be surprised? Feyre shook the thought as they descended the stairs, walking through a few corridors. Some servants who saw them stopped and bowed for Cresseida, until they reached the huge double doors. They waited there, silently. Until Feyre could hear the organ starting to play inside. Then the doors opened, and they started walking. The chapel was packed with people who tried to get a glance of Feyre, but her eyes were fixed forward to the end of the aisle where prince Tarquin stood. He was beautiful, more handsome than Feyre had expected. She stumbled over her own two feet but Cresseida helped her to stay steady. "Sorry." she mumbled, embarrassed.
"It's fine, just keep walking." She calmed her down.
Tarquin smiles turned brighter than the setting sun behind the mosaic windows, Feyre echoed it. When they reached the end of the smile, Tarquin took Feyre's hand and thanked Cresseida. They stood opposite of each other, clasping their hands as the officiant spoke.
"So, you must be my husband, your highness." Feyre whispered, feeling her face heaten.
"Call me Tarquin, please." he whispered back, "You'll be my wife, after all."
When it was time for the Vows, Tarquin took a deep breath before he repeated, "In the name of the Goddess, I, Tarquin, take you, Feyre, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. This is my solemn vow."
Feyre's face already hurt from smiling when it was her turn to speak the vow, "In the name of the Goddess, I, Feyre, take you, Tarquin, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. This is my solemn vow."
Then Varian stepped forward, holding a velvet pillow with their rings. They both took each other's ring and as Tarquin slid the Ring on Feyre's finger, she saw his hands trembling, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. All that I am I give to you, all that I have I share with you. I promise to be faithful and loyal, to respect and cherish you, throughout our lives together." he spoke.
Feyre slid the ring on his finger, clutching his trembling hands between her own as she spoke the same words.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride." the officiant announced. They both smiled as Feyre stepped forward, one of Tarquins arms slid around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her. And as their lips met, something shifted in the air, and Feyre was acutely aware that this is where she was always meant to be. She didn't know if it was one of her daydreams or if it was fate bringing her here but as her arm slid behind Tarquins neck and she melted into him, she knew this was her place.
When they parted, silver swirls were visible on Tarquins forearm. Feyre could feel the power radiating from it, a bargain tattoo. The same that now glittered on Feyres arm, across her hand, because she took Tarquin as her husband.
"What was the cost?" She breathed.
Something haunted joined Tarquins eyes as he told her, "My mortality."
No one seemed to hear their conversation as the people erupted in applause. Their King, now standing in front of them. Their immortal king, with his immortal wife. "It's not as bad as it seems." Feyre said, pointing to her ears. Although, it was. Not the life but Tarquin would witness all his acquaintances die as he stayed the same age. But that was a matter for another time, this was their wedding day. Tarquin seemed to think the same as he smiled and took her hand, "Wife." he nodded.
Feyre dipped her chin, "Husband," she said, then he led her back down the aisle, through the castle to the ballroom, where their reception would take place.
It was a beautiful ceremony, a beautiful reception and Feyre had a lot of fun drinking and dancing with Tarquin. She was glad when he introduced her to his court but she was just as glad when they took a break, getting fresh air, later into the night. The castle sat on a mountain, and on the bench where they sat they could overlook the ocean, the moon reflecting on its surface.
"Is Cresseida against witches?" Feyre broke the silence when she remembered the carriage ride earlier.
"Not at all," Tarquin replied. "Her lover was a witch," he explained. "But when the King came to power, he planned to kill them, so they went into hiding. They hadn't seen each other since."
"They can come out of hiding now." Feyre said.
Tarquin sighed, "It will take some time and a lot of trust but I hope that there will be a world someday where we can live in peace with each other." he looked at Feyre. "All of us."
Feyre put a hand on his knee and squeezed. "You will make a great King, Tarquin. I have no doubt about that."
"Thank you." he replied quietly.
"So what now?" Feyre asked. He raised his brow in question. "Are you going to…consummate the marriage?"
"I won't do anything that you are not comfortable with Feyre. You can live in your own quarters if you want that, or you could live in mine."
"That depends." she said thoughtfully.
"On what?"
"Can you, well, can you imagine loving me someday? As your wife?" she asked.
Tarquin smiled, tucking a strand of Feyre's golden-brown hair behind her ear. "I would be a fool if I didn't. Could you?"
"I think it would be very easy to love you, Tarquin, and it would be easier to be your friend." Feyre told him, meaning every word.
Tarquin put his hand above Feyre's, "Fortunately, I think it would be very easy to love you, too, Feyre."
A vow, one that only the stars and the moon witnessed.
