giving you a small snippet of my obikin christmas fic for the first week of december! think of it as a door of your advent calendar :D
“Watch out, his guard dog will bite you,” Quinlan grins, downing the rest of his mulled wine in one go. Anakin makes a mental note to cut him off the alcohol just to spite him.
Ahsoka only waves him off though. “Anakin is all bark and no bite,” she says.
“I swear I saw him bite someone in a bar fight once,” Rex contradicts her, and yeah, that sounds vaguely familiar to Anakin. He also does bite Obi-Wan sometimes, but that’s another piece of information that he keeps to himself.
“And he can throw punches,” Cody agrees.
“I’ll punch you if you call me a guard dog again,” Anakin says, halfway meaning it.
Thinking about the first time you’re making out with Katsuki.
You didn’t expect things to get so heavy so quickly, but it’s hard to complain when you’re pressed so snugly against his side with your shirt off, one of his hands hooked under your ass.
He grins when he pulls away from your mouth to unbutton your jeans, slipping them down just a little.
“Matching set, huh?” He’s all too smug, his smile almost predatory when he gazes down at you. Too confident, too easy for him, and it feels a little like he’s laughing at you, embarrassment making your tongue a little sharp.
“I’m always matching, you’re not that special,” you wish it sounds more convincing, but you’re a little breathless from his kisses and his touches, already stretching to taste his mouth again.
He pulls away a little bit at that, his smile faltering for just a moment as he gazes down at you curiously.
“That was rude,” he tuts after a moment, keeping his mouth just out of reach of yours as he turns for his drink, taking a long sip of that whiskey you couldn’t dream of affording.
You immediately feel guilty, but before you can apologize, his fingers are gripping your cheeks, holding your mouth open for him to press his thumb against your tongue, his eyes sharp as he watches yours flutter shut.
“So pliant for someone so mean,” he laughs softly, and your cheeks redden, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip as he finally closes in again, breath warm over your mouth when he speaks.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Francis Crozier/Thomas Jopson, Edward Little/John Irving/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, John Irving/Thomas Jopson, Thomas Jopson/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, Graham Gore/Thomas Jopson
Characters: Thomas Jopson, Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, Francis Crozier, John Irving (1815-c.1848), Edward Little (1811-c.1848), Graham Gore
Additional Tags: During Canon, Clothed Sex, Erectile Dysfunction, Sexual Fantasy, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Orgasm Denial, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Power Imbalance, feigned noncon
Series: Part 4 of (Our) time is running out
Summary:
He talks. He talks about Le Vesconte’s thighs and Gore’s hands, about Irving and Little biting their lips, hair and uniforms in disarray; about him, the captain, sitting at the head of the table and watching every act.
++
@smallerhawk this is for your Jop post :D I hope you like it!
@theterrorwhumpathon “Violent Fantasies” square
@leadandblood asked me for a tag once this was published :D
tagged by @rewritetheending for wip wednesday and finally have time to share more from the trinity-centric fic i'm working my way through after having thoroughly been bitten by the pitt bug. more from this one i shared a peek into 2 weeks ago now
Her little half-remembered road rage story does its job of distracting Mel, but when she looks up again, the tell-tale figure of Langdon himself is being greeted by Perlah. Or rather, Langdon is ambushed by Princess’s friendly but firm grip on his bicep- with Perlah pointing a mock-serious finger in his face. Trinity tracks his slow progress towards where they’re sitting at the hub, prepared to alert Mel to his presence.
“You know, if you run into a situation like that again, you can inconvenience the jerk right back by sticking a pen in the open tire valves- …screwing on each cap once you’ve listened to enough air whistle out of each one.”
Trinity was about to ease into whispering to Mel about the source of all her anxiety for the month creeping up over her shoulder, when her brain catches up to what’s coming out of Mel’s mouth. She finds herself focused instead on levering her jaw off the sticky keyboard of the computer she’s sitting at.
“You- you want me to do a civil version of the ‘pop and slash’?”
Mel blinks rapidly and seemingly recalibrates, “No! Well, sure? If you want to put it that way, but it’s not- It’s not slashing at all! The tires are mostly fine. The owner of the car just needs to realize they have to stop by an air pump at the nearest gas stat- oh hey Doctor Langdon!”
It would be kind to say Mel greets Langdon brightly. It’s more like an aborted flinch forward and restrained squeak, but she handled it pretty well. Trinity goes for as neutral a half smile as she can muster.
Langdon does an equally weird impersonal nod back at her right ear, eyes never quite making its way to her gaze before turning his full attention to Mel.
“Not unlike doing an emergency trach with a pen on someone when they can’t reach the hospital,” he says by way of greeting Mel with a warm grin.
Trinity would tease Mel later about that if she wasn’t so busy subtly snatching the pen Mel was about to throw over her shoulder as she gesticulates in agreement.
Grian’s face, cheeks flushed red with need and sweat drenching his hair, staining his cheeks in rivulets, looked sinful wedged between Scar’s thighs.
Pairing his cock stuffed so effortlessly into that slutty mouth, with Grian’s eyes brimmed with tears staring up at him, Scar could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer.
In the cactus ring, Grian and Scar finally come together.
Happy birthday, @target--practice! I hope you enjoy :)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/3
Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov
Characters: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander
Additional Tags: Trans Shane Hollander, cryptic pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Family Feels, flangst, Fluff and Angst, Parent Shane Hollander, Parent Ilya Rozanov, they have the world's cutest baby and she is a surprise, Protect trans kids
Summary:
Jane
[1 image]
The photo was of a brand fucking new baby who was still scrunched up from being inside the womb. The baby was small, red faced, with dark blonde hair and watery bluish eyes. She was pretty cute though.
Ilya wasn’t sure why Shane was sending him a photo of a random newborn. Was it a teammate’s kid?
Lily
Cute! Whose baby is that?
Jane
She’s ours
Lily
What?
Jane
I had a baby an hour ago
***
Before Ilya and Shane meet at the cottage, Shane very very unexpectedly has a baby. Chaos (and love) ensues.
If you need a complete refresher or would like to jump into this story, the masterlist can be found here
4.4k words. Very light sexual themes.
Azriel had flown them back to the edge of Persepolis in silence before winnowing them the rest of the way home. His face had remained a stoic, stony thing. Hard hazel eyes scouting their path meticulously but always carefully remaining averted from her.
She thought she felt his gaze burning the side of her face a few times, sensed his chest constricting as if he were about to say something, but then he’d stop himself. If he was going to apologise for his outburst then she would accept, but she wasn’t going to beg for it. Nor make it easy for him. He’d acted like an ass, and she was sick of letting people get away with it. The entire way home was such a stark contrast to their flight in.
They had stayed only one night in Helion’s palace, needing the time to rehash her vision with the High Lord and then devise a plan to assist in anything they may need to avoid allowing Beron to be successful in the matter of the looming Spring Court invasion.
Helion, graciously, had agreed to provide aide, in whichever way he could. And she and Azriel had played their parts well. They had agreed the citizens of Spring couldn’t be left to defend for themselves against the might of the Autumn armies, and that their safety would be of utmost importance, along with stopping Beron from successfully taking over the fraught territory. Impeding Beron’s triumph in turn seemed imperative in protecting the humans who inhabited the land just below Springs’ borders, too.
After all matters of importance had been decided upon and planned for, Helion had invited them to drink and dine with him in his private parlour that night. Elain accepted graciously, but Azriel had politely declined, claiming he had reports to complete that had become pressing.
She tasted the lie in the air, knowing the Shadowsinger was avoiding her, as he had been since their argument in his room. She had been deflated that they had found themselves back in this awkward territory after seemingly coming so close to being friends again. But she decided not to wallow, not to let his broodiness seep into her own attitude. If she had just one night here, out from under the watchful eyes of all of those from the Night Court, then she would damn well enjoy it.
She had changed into a more comfortable but no less stunning dress for the evening. A flowing gown that still resembled the Day Court fashion, but less stuffy and embellished, the colour a deep jade. Its bodice still hugged her torso and the skirts billowed around her slender legs, but the added gold embellishments were stripped, leaving her more relaxed to eat and lounge with the High Lord’s company for the night.
There were perhaps two dozen High Fae gathered in Helion’s private parlour when she joined them that evening, the room dimly lit with flickering glass lanterns strewn across the marble floors. Males and females alike dressed in gowns and robes in a kaleidoscope of deep jewelled tones were lounging on puffy, cloud like cream-coloured cushions, or draped across low-lying, deep-seated settees.
Some attendees were already entangled in varying degrees of lust and desire, whilst others merely enjoyed the view and ambiance or discussion around them. Swathes of fine gold organza draped and folded from the low ceiling, giving one the sense that they were nestled within a giant ornate nest, the delicate fabric muffling the sounds of neighbouring conversations and impassioned touching alike.
Crystal decanters of ruby, sapphire and emerald held various wines and liquors. Females in billowing magenta pants and exposed bellies floated around the room offering trays of plump dates, rosewater and orange-blossom flavoured jellies, and a sweet flaky pastry treat called baklava. Brass platters of fresh figs, soft cheeses and olives were spread across the scattered tables around the room.
It was all so decadent and lush. And although Elain usually shied away from such scenes of debauchery, she found herself once again drawn into the thrall of the Day Court customs. Emboldened by the absence of anyone who reallyknew her.
Here she could be anyone, here she could enjoy something she would normally not care to want, if even just for just a little while. It wasn’t something she longed for often, not at all. But on the occasion, it felt like a refreshing change. Like she could slip on a different mask and play make believe for just one night.
She had spent that evening in Leto’s company, her sandals kicked off and strewn about on the floor before her and her legs tucked beneath her on a soft, cream loveseat. They had not spoken or seen each other since the last time she had been in Day, which had been months ago, and she had forgotten how easy he was to talk to. She had forgotten how charming his smile was, how his rich olive skin seemed to glow from within, how his pale green eyes peered so intently at her as she spoke. But despite all of this, of how truly lovely this male was, she found her thoughts wandering up to the room beside hers. The room that she knew was currently occupied with the brooding shadowsinger.
After his outburst, she figured Azriel must have been jealous of Leto. That he had sensed something between them and surmised some sort of scenario for himself. Never mind that all that had happened between them was a few kisses and heavy petting when she had last spent time here. Having indulged in a few glasses of Day Court wine had left Elain feeling lightheaded and a touch rambunctious.
Sure, they were very hot and heavy kisses that still made her blush when she remembered them; how she had brazenly straddled his lap, how his hands had grazed across her burning skin, how his tongue had traced wicked paths up her throat and along her collar bones. She had explained to Leto that she was just looking for some light-hearted fun, nothing serious. He had merely replied that she was a beautiful young female, and she was entitled to do as she pleased. That there was no judgement in the Day Court.
She wasn’t sure if he knew the status of her mateship. Not that it meant anything to her. But she didn’t bring it up and graciously, neither did he.
During that first visit, they had indulged in a night of laughing and drinking and passionate foreplay, Elain draped over Leto’s lap as he ravished her lips, chest and neck. She’d never done such a thing, her human sensibilities always holding her back- but she found the more time she spent with the fae, the less she cared about trivial things such as decorum and propriety. She was free to do as she pleased, and she’d be damned if she was going to let a couple of stubborn males dictate what or who she should be doing. She belonged to no one.
So, she had enjoyed herself this visit too, although she had refrained from partaking in anything physical with Leto this time. He didn’t push her and seemed genuinely happy to just enjoy her company, talking with her into the early hours of the morning. When people started dispersing; either retiring to their quarters alone, or to finish what had been started with one or several partners, they too turned in for the night.
Leto had walked her to her door and left her with a sweet kiss on the back of her hand, wishing her a restful sleep.
Entering her room that night, Elain hadn’t heard a single sound coming from the occupant next door. And yet a restful sleep was far from reach.
~
Elain sat on a plush leather couch in the main library of the river manor, a small fire crackling before her as the weather had finally started to turn colder. The looming clouds outside had been foreboding enough to have her forgo any of her gardening duties today, instead opting to hunt down any books about Seers, controlling one’s powers, and how to strengthen one’s mind to the onslaught of various magics.
The books she had collected were currently sat in a stack beside her on a small brass pedestal, a heavy tome open in her lap, but the words before her swayed in and out of focus. Her mind was unable to fixate on the topic before her, ironically. The broody Spymaster incessantly floating into her mind instead.
It had been almost a week since they had returned from Day, and beyond their initial meeting with Rhys upon their immediate return to Velaris, Elain had not heard a peep from Azriel. She wasn’t even sure if he had been staying at the river manor, let alone if he was anywhere in the entirety of the Night Court.
It seemed every time there had been some sort of conflict between them, they would choose to run away. Her to the far reaches of Prythian, Azriel to the Mother knows where. She hated it. And she was sick of having to tiptoe around males. It was bad enough when Lucien imposed his presence upon her during his seldom visits to Velaris, but the thought of needing to avoid Azriel too? She could no longer stand the thought.
Snapping the book shut with a loud thud, Elain stood, flinging the leather-bound pages behind her on the cushion she had previously sat in. A small groan of frustration left her lips as she paced, back and forth, her feet wearing a path across the plush rug along the face of the fireplace.
Elain was fed up, aggravated of this cat and mouse game, the unpredictability of this situation between herself and Azriel. They couldn’t continue avoiding each other forever, and further to that she had the nagging suspicion that there was something he wasn’t being completely honest with her about. She was tired of the restless nights and simply of not knowing. Of not knowing where he was, when he would return, if he was safe, how he felt, how she felt. It was growing tiresome and once again she decided that she couldn’t wait.
She couldn’t wait until an appropriate time to corner him, to speak with him. She couldn’t wait for him to come strolling through the door in his worn leathers, his face weary. She wouldn’t.
And so, she once again closed her eyes. Delving further and further into that mysterious well of power that rumbled deep within, she allowed the pull of the void to lead her along the path to Azriel as she winnowed.
~
Before Elain had even opened her eyes, she felt the cold, harsh wind whipping against her skirts, tangling in her long hair. She hadn’t thought to don a cloak in her urgency to go, and truth be told, the bite of the icy air only bolstered her resolve.
Cracking her eyes open to reveal the scene she had winnowed to, she learnt why the wind was so arctic here, why it so ferociously whipped about her.
Standing near the edge of a rocky cliffside, she peered around her, spotting Azriel about twenty paces ahead. His back was turned to her, his mighty wings a strong dark force against the strong gale. He stood deathly still, the only movement was his raven hair that whipped wildly about his face, and a few lone shadows that swirled about his feet, caressed his neck.
Elain couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by him, the mighty warrior on the edge of the jagged cliff. His strong thighs planting him securely to the ground beneath his feet, the two siphons upon those brutally scarred hands the only source of brightness in the otherwise moody scene before her.
A shadow coiled about his ear before disappearing, and Azriel turned, a look of mild surprise lining his face as he beheld Elain standing in the knee length grassy meadow at his back. Before he could turn around completely, Elain’s feet moved. She was grateful she hadn’t winnowed to directly on top of him this time, but she didn’t let the insecurity of that dredged up memory show as she closed the distance between them.
His deep voice floated over to her on the back of a strong gust of wind. “How did you find me?”
Once she was within a few paces of him, she halted, standing before him with her shoulders thrown back. Elain chose to ignore his question. She wasn’t sure how she had found him anyway. It was as if some part of her knew where she could find Azriel, where she could always find Azriel. But she wasn’t going to admit that. She’d never admit the pull she felt toward him, the bright, invisible thread that seemed to bind them.
“I winnowed,” she responded instead. A vague enough answer that perhaps alerted him to her hedging but provided enough information to the Spymaster that confirmed they remained alone. That no one had brought her here. That they could speak freely.
“Is everything ok?” he responded. She spied a few shadows darting away, no doubt off to gather information about any happenings he should be aware of, any danger.
“Everyone is fine. I just wanted to speak with you.”
His face gave nothing away, even as his eyes bore into hers unwaveringly, seemingly trying to read her expression in return. “What about?”
Elain scoffed at the question somewhat unkindly, his seemingly feigned naivety grating on her patience. “What about?You have been avoiding me since the day we arrived in Persepolis. Barely three words have been uttered. You cannot be that obtuse, Azriel.”
His eyebrows bunched together as a dimple appeared in the tan skin of his smooth cheek. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with her last remark or trying to hide his surprise.
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he murmured adamantly, clasping his hands behind his back, a muscle in his neck twitching.
“Oh yes you have, you haven’t been home in over a week, nor present at a single meal,” she bit back, her muscles now tensed against the ice cold winds.
“I’ve been busy with the looming conflict in Spring. I…I’ve been coming home late and leaving before you rise.”
“So, you’ve been avoiding me.”
“As I said, I’ve been busy,” he bit out, not conceding to her inferences.
“Well, we’re here now, and I’ve had enough,” her temper was rising at his petulance.
“Enough of what?”
Enough of what? Elain heard her own heartbeat pounding wildly in her ears, her temper flaring with every passing word Azriel uttered. She exploded, her voice coming out louder than before, her arms splayed out wide. “Of running! Of you running, of me running. I’ve had enough!”
“I haven’t been running—"
“Oh, come off it, Azriel!” she shouted, cutting him off from telling more lies.
“What do you want me to say?” He too was growing exasperated now. Good. She’d had enough of his stoic composure. She’s gladly see him unravel if it meant he was honest.
“The truth! Tell me the truth! I know there is something you are not being honest about.”
Azriel’s jaw clenched, the only sign that she had said something with some certainty behind it. Even still, he seemed reluctant to speak his mind.
“Is it really that bad? The thought of kissing me?” She had uttered the words so softly; she couldn’t swallow them before they had come tumbling out.
His face cracked, his shoulders softening slightly, his hands flinching at his sides as if they ached to reach for her. It was clear he hadn’t expected such candor from her, nor had she expected to let that admission free from her private thoughts.
His voice came out as a croak, his eyes peering down upon her beseechingly. “No. it’s not that. Elain…”
His words drifted off, fading into nothing, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly, the scars on his hands stretched over his clenched fists. His eyes darted across her face, his expression giving nothing away, and yet something charged went taught between them. That mysterious thread once again pulling.
“Azriel…”
She started the sentence but truly wasn’t mindful of how she’d finish it. But no sooner had his name slipped from between her lips he was stalking toward her. His long legs ate up the space between them in just a few paces and in the next moment he had reached out with those beautiful hands and buried them into her hair.
Before she could register his intentions, he had swooped down and captured her lips with his. Azriel kissed her so desperately, so passionately, that the air had been knocked from her lungs. He had utterly caught her by surprise and she couldn’t react, her body wilting in his arms. Melting hopelessly into his embrace.
Her arms hung limply at her sides as he pulled away slightly, his face still so close to hers, lips swollen from their kiss, his bright hazel eyes churning as they searched her face. In vain he searched for an answer, for a sign that what he had done was ok, that she too, had wanted this.
Before he could pull away, she had grabbed the front of his leathers, tugging him down toward her and this time Elain kissed him with back the same amount of gusto. The same amount of aching need leaching from every swipe of her tongue, every bite of her lips, every sweep of her hands dragging along his neck, asking a question she desperately longed to find the answer to.
He answered, leaving no query as to what his intentions were.
His kiss consumed her, like flames licking languidly at her very soul, slowly devouring her until there was nothing left. Elain threw herself into the kiss, allowing her hands to wander down his hard chest, around his shoulders, the nape of his neck. He groaned in response, a bestial thing born from his gut, his very essence singing in answer to hers.
Her slight hands inched beneath the collar of his leathers, and he shivered as the pads of her fingers caressed along his hot skin. She was burning and burning and burning in his arms. So many months of longing, so many moments of visceral need, so many feelings pulling at her from every direction.
And yet… she still did not know. She didn’t know what this all meant, why he had pulled away all those months ago, why he chose now to act on his feelings. Did he in fact feel anything for her? Or was this merely a physical need? Did he care for her at all? He had, once again, ran away from a problem.
Before the fire burning low in her belly could completely douse the dwindling clarity in her mind, she tore her lips away from his. As painful as it was to do so, they couldn’t leave this conversation lingering once more.
“Azriel… Az— wait,” she gasped as he latched his lips onto the side of her neck, his tongue laving at the skin there, pulling and swirling across the length of her throat as if he couldn’t stop himself from tasting her. A groan escaped his throat as he continued sucking at her and she couldn’t help the flutter of her eyes at the deep sound, the vibrations against her neck shooting straight through her centre.
“Azriel,” she moaned at a particularly delicious swipe of his tongue against her burning skin, “stop—” she mewled weakly.
No sooner had that final word fallen from her mouth, Azriel had flung himself off her. Snatching his hands away from her body and dragging them roughly through his hair he panted, remorse etched painfully on his face.
“Elain, I— I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” he spluttered as he continued to back away from her as if she had bitten venom into his veins. Self-hatred lined his face, truly believing he had done something wrong, something she did not wish.
“Azriel, no- that’s not what I meant. Its ok, I wanted this. Just, stop retreating. Stop running away. I only mean— if you cannot speak openly with me, then you have no right to my body, either.”
He turned pleading eyes toward her, his face stricken, still believing he had done something wicked, had forced himself on her. Seducing her into something that she didn’t wish.
She knew no words would be able to lift him out of the spiral he was currently plunging into so instead she showed him. Showed him that she trusted him, that she longed for his touch, that she wished for it day and night. But before she could completely succumb to those desires, she needed an explanation. She needed an understanding of where they stood, what she meant to him, why he had left her so abruptly that Solstice.
Stalking up to him and grasping his hands in hers, she looked up into his face, hoping to portray nothing but sincerity, trust, comfort in his near presence.
“Azriel, please. Just tell me. Tell me what it is. What it all means. Why you’re jealous of Leto, why you avoided me for all those months, why you called me a mistake…”
A chocking sound escaped his throat. He looked stricken, his shoulders sagging with the weight of a secret she knew not. His eyes had closed but as he opened them his hazel irises burned brighter than she had ever seen them, appearing almost golden in the light of the setting sun.
“You are not a mistake Elain. You have no idea how abhorrently those words haunt me. How my actions haunt me, just. Please. Please try to understand.”
“Understand what? Azriel, stop evading speaking your truth! Please, just say… something.”
“I can’t—” a rasping sound clawed its way to his lips, as if the words were chocking him.
“Elain, I’m sorry. You deserve better.”
Pulling his hands from hers he inched backwards once more, edging closer and closer to that cliff.
“Azriel! Stop running!” she cried, her mouth twisting in pain despite her attempts at willing it not to.
His hazel eyes guttered at the sight; the same devastation she felt reflected on his handsome face.
As if his legs moved on their own accord, he stalked back to her, reaching for her like a man finding nirvana. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tilting her face up to his, her doe eyes wide as she peered back at him. He held her tenderly as if he had possession of the most precious thing in the world in the palm of his hands. His thumb traced her jaw and he looked down upon her as if he wished for nothing more than to simply exist in her embrace. “I’m not running, Elain. But please, let me…let me fix something first. I’ll see you at home. I promise.”
With those words, he pressed his lips to her forehead for one long, pointed moment before he retreated again and stepped off the edge of the cliff. Elain gasped, forgetting herself before his wings shot out from behind him, catching a current and carrying him away.
Elain lifted her fingers to her lips, feeling they were indeed swollen from his passionate kisses. That this all just wasn’t a dream, a vision cruelly planted in her mind to torment her further.
She stood on that blustery cliff edge watching him fly away until he was but a dark speck upon the horizon in the far distance, high above the lights of Velaris, just winking to life as the sun set upon the city she called home.
~
Hours later Elain was being woken up by an urgent hand shaking her shoulder. She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep, spending hours tossing and turning in her bed back at the manor. She had awaited Azriel’s return, straining her ears to hear any movement from his room down the hall, but such a thing never occurred. Her younger sisters’ tattooed fingers dug into her shoulder as her eyes adjusted to the first rays of morning light.
“Elain. Elain. Wake up. Beron has made his move. His armies march south.”
Elain bolted up in bed, the words clanging in her brain like a clapper pounding against the inside of its bell.
Elain scrambled within her bed sheets, fighting to free herself from the tangle of quilts and furs.
“I’ll get dressed immediately; I just need a minute,” she babbled, her voice thick from sleep.
“No Elain, wait. I need you to stay with Nyx, protect him,” Feyre instructed, the voice of the High Lady making its request. “Rhys and Az have already gone ahead. Cassian is gathering the Illyrian troops. Nesta and I are leaving shortly to meet them, and Mor is on her way too. Amren will stay behind with you to protect the city.”
Elain wanted to argue, wanted to insist she go with them. Help them in any way she could. But she knew why her sister asked her of this. She wasn’t a warrior. Was not trained in combat. Although no one could settle and care for Nyx outside of his parents like she could, something still twinged in her heart about being separated from them all during this time. But she knew this is where she was most useful.
Elain nodded her head just once, her sister seeming to sag in relief that Elain hadn’t put up more of a fight.
“Thank you,” Feyre breathed, “Send word with the twins if something comes up.”
“We’ll be fine, I promise,” Elain vowed. Feyre saw it for what it was; that Elain would protect Nyx with her life. Today and always.
Feyre squeezed her shoulder before turning away, her long braid swinging down her back against the leathers she had already donned. Time and time again her family had gone into battle, had been flung into conflict and danger and terrors beyond her wildest dreams. Elain couldn’t help but wonder when their luck would finally run out.
“Feyre?” Elain called from her bed, the urgency evident in her voice.
Feyre turned; her blue grey eyes bright with concern. “Yes?”
“Please make sure you come home. All of you.”
Feyre nodded solemnly before she turned back, and Elain could do nothing but watch her sister retreating from her room for what she desperately hoped wasn’t the last time.
