A Court of Ribbons and Shadows is three and a half books
I have been recently informed that ACORAS is, in fact, nearly a million words long, which is absolutely absurd. So I thought Iâd drop my semi-official breakdown of the books of ACORAS for anyone who feels too intimidated to try getting into it.
Book One:
A Court of Ribbons and Shadows
From Chapter one (âI Amâ) through Chapter 11 (âThe End of Something; the Beginning of Somethingâ)Â
     A retelling of the latter half of ACOSF with the focus on Gwyn and Azrielâs growing friendship. Something new is brewing on the horizonâor, perhaps, right under their noses.
Book Two
A Legacy of Storm and Song
From Chapter 12 (âAzriel Talksâ) through Chapter 28 (âFrom Seconds to Eternitiesâ)
   After their ordeal, the Valkyries return to find their lives fundamentally changed. Emerie is no longer welcome in her home, Windhaven. Nesta is set to be tied permanently to Cassian.
   Navigating her fresh romance with the Shadowsinger, a new position in the Night Court, and unfamiliar faces joining their ranksâGwyn finds that the thing she knows the least is her past.Â
   And the Blood Rite, they find, was only the beginning of a greater enemyâs attempts to take their lives.
Book Three
A Ballad of Blaze and Blossom
From Chapter 29 (âThe Song of Sun and Snowâ) through Chapter 42 (âNeverâs End; Foreverâs Renewalâ)
  The threat to Velaris has not gone unheard. Gwyn, Azriel, Emerie, and Balthazar have gone to Winter to track down a lost ally of great and terrible magic. Elain and Lucien are begrudgingly, for now, together in the Summer Court to apprehend an attempted theftâby stealing the incredibly dangerous enchanted object first.
   But a particularly brash River Nymph from the Autumn Court claims that their adversary is little more than a puppet.
Book Four
A Reflection of Gods
From Chapter 43 (âSunfireâ) through Chapter 55 (âEpilogue.â)
  All secrets have been revealed. Of bloodlines, of powers, of alliances between friend and foe. Even the secrets of love have revealed themselves. Azriel and Gwyn, with Elain and Lucien, are invited to stay in the Haven, a beautiful oasis of libraries in the Day Court, to recover.
  But one mystery remains unsolved. The single hope they have to stop the apparent end of the world is hidden in a storyâlong forgotten tales written by a tribe of Fire Nymphs. Emerie and her Unit must travel to a faraway land to track down the ancient texts.Â
  They meet resistance from an unexpected source.
In the ACORAS epilogue, we see Bryce, Lorcan and Fenrys all in Prythian.
Do you have any plans to continue expanding that storyline, or is that story done for good now.
You know, when I wrote that, I had every intention of writing a short bonus chapter that would wrap up that plot, but things have been so busy with my original project that I just havenât had the chance to write it.
If anyone would be interested in that bonus, Iâd be happy to set aside time to write it. Otherwise it can exist as an ambiguous ending for the imagination of readers to fill in.
My new Once Upon a Broken Heart fic has officially begun. The first two chapters are posted on AO3!
If youâve read my fic Between Enemy Lines and liked it, youâll love this one, too.
Cold wood dug into his knees. The church mustâve truly been frigid if even his skin wasnât immune to the chill. He had gone blissfully numb to all else, though.
           He welcomed in the cold with every breath, freezing the burn in his stomach. The need, the ache. It had crept up on him, stronger than ever, dragging him down with every step he took away from Donatella Dragna.
           Sometimes it felt similar enough to the burn of alcohol, he could almost pretend. Not so today. No, heâd swallowed fire. Heâd nearly torn into his skin trying to rid himself of the feeling. Heâd done quite a number on his jacket.
           He let his hands fall away, breathing only the dust of this old, abandoned place.
           It was then that he heard the footsteps. His head shot up. He had felt a tingling like he was no longer alone, but the door to his church was hidden. Â
           He spotted his intruder, and all he saw for a moment was pink. Her hair wasâpink. Not a bubbly, sweet sort of pink. It had a sharp edge of gold shooting through it, lending her a certain aura of otherness. A storybook character must have gotten loose in his church.
           How had she gotten in?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
ACORAS question for you. In the epilogue, it says:
âNesta wonât drink it. Sheâs nervous againâshe always seems to find reasons to be nervous these days. Her body wonât like food for another hour yet, at least.â
Is this an allusion to her being pregnant?
Hi, friend. No, no, that was just about her being anxious in the aftermath of everything that happened. I have a feeling it's going to be a while before Nesta and Cassian settle down to have their own kids. For now, they're focused on being baby Nyx's favorites đ
A little Blossom and Luci scene in the garden that got cut from A Court of Ribbons and Shadows. This can be read as a one shot, but it's set within the ACORAS universe.
More bonus content to come â€ïž
Elain was disappointed when he left. She told herself it was because theyâre friends now, and because she doesnât have many of those.
           But thereâs no room for denial to squeeze between all the butterflies in her stomach when he returns. That shock of fire hair. Golden eyes and a smile so sweet, she wants to taste it. And that fucking blue suit. She wants to take a nap in that exact shade of blue.
           Itâs distressingly pretty on him.
           âYouâre back already,â she says, and thereâs a breathlessness in her voice like sheâs been startled. No, much worse. Sheâs been aroused. By him.
           He turns to her, hair flicking out around him and eye clicking as he takes her in. A small smile dares to peek out, though something else is creasing up his brow like that. Itâs almostâsheepish. âI didnât have much to do,â he says. And with a hint of sarcasm, âI hope youâre not too disappointed.â
           Sheâs surprised, though she doesnât know why. Every time heâs left the past week, heâs returned in mere hours. So quickly, like he missed her, too. âI needed more time to plan your assassination,â she says cheerily as she brushes past him into the hall.
           His footsteps follow. âHardly,â he says, âAll it takes is a little money slipped to the right nefarious character.â
           âAh, do you have an address for any nefarious characters? Iâm struggling to find one.â
           Lucien pauses at her side, looks down at himself and back at her pointedly. Sheâs not sure if heâs calling himself a nefarious character or her. One is almost true; the other, mildly amusing.
           Elain bustles into the kitchen, throwing open the door far enough for him to follow her in without getting struck in the shoulder on its backswing. And he does, follow. He always does. She motions to the pot of water boiling, asking him to take it off the fire for her. He does.
           She makes up two mugs, one with her favorite tea, one with his. She doesnât ask him if he wants any. He always drinks whatever she hands him. It truly would be easy to kill him, she supposes.
           She also supposes that food to accept the mating bond doesnât account for drinks. As sheâs served him many of those and never felt the stirrings of that magic in her. Sometimes she wonders why she serves the drinks, though. Like sheâs testing fate, daring it to bind her down to Lucien.
           A dangerous little part of her thinks that wouldnât be too bad.
           That dangerous little part of her is victim to his blue suit, sheâs sure of it. He looks too good in it. Something about the thicker material itâs made of, and the way the cut of it hugs him at all the curves and dips of his body, defining them like candlelight does to bare flesh. Or perhaps itâs just the color against his flame hair and fox eyes.
           She hates him so much.
           She hands him the steeping mug of tea. âHow were Jurian and Vassa?â she asks politely.
           âIrritating,â he says, with love. He hops up to sit on the counter; she sits on the other, across from him. These have become their places when theyâre in the kitchen together. âVassaâs highly displeased with how much Iâve been gone lately. I had to tell her Iâm spending it all with youââ he seems to realize heâs made an error before she registers what he said. What he implied.
           âTo appease her?â Elain asks, quietly.
           âSure.â
           Elain barely catches herself before she smiles. And, because she canât help herself, she asks, âWhy would that appease her,â with utter innocence.
           He shoots her a dirty look. He knows what sheâs doing, and he knows she knows what sheâs doing. Theyâre both dancing this same dance, though neither of them are willing to admit that thereâs music. âShe desperately wants me to befriend you,â he says, âSo she can befriend you too.â
           âOh, is that why youâve been here? Because Vassa wants you to befriend me?â
           âNo, Iâve been here in case my father attempts a genocide against my court,â Lucien says, very seriously. Then adds, âAnd because Iwant me to befriend you.â
           She doesnât catch her smile that time before it slips through. She stuffs it back down deep a moment later, but she knows he saw it. Gods, that stupid suit has her so flustered. And now heâs admitted that he wants her in some capacity.
           She wants him, too. The music is still playing, a drumbeat in her ears.
           âI may be receptive to befriending,â she says, and it comes out much softer than she intended, aching with sincerity.
           Lucienâs real eyeârusset and goldâflickers with an emotion she canât name. But itâs soft, aching with sincerity. Simultaneously, they both shake off the moment. He asks, âIf I befriend you quick enough, will you call off your assassination?â
           âIf you help me with dinner tonight,â she says, hopping down off the counter and taking a deep drink of her tea. She abandons the half full mug on the counter.
Lucien pauses to drink the rest of his before chasing after her with a mumbled protest that sheâs always running off. Then, âWhere are you going? Cooking food often requires the food,â with a motion back towards the kitchen.
           âWe need to collect some ingredients from my garden.â And she desperately needs to mess him up, muss up that pretty suit, ruin the sight of him before she admits to anything more dangerous.
           He casts her an askance look. âYou want me to forage with you?â
           âGarden.â
           âWhatâs the difference?â
           âOne requires opposable thumbs.â She bumps open the back door with her hip, stepping out into the fresh afternoon air. The sun is carving deep orange lines into the sky; the perfume of the garden wraps up tight around her on the subtle, warm winds. âHow did you manage to live in the Spring Court without learning to garden?â
           âI was a courtier,â he says, haughtily, âI tended the fruit trees.â
           Elain doesnât expect it, and a short, wild laugh escapes her. Heâs made her laugh before, but this one tastes like sunshine and affection. She swallows down the tail end of it, afraid heâll realize that he just made her fall a little more in love with him with a single, well placed joke.
           Gods, sheâs really quite a simple creature.
           But as she glances over at him, his gaze is down to the ground like heâs trying to hide the soft, pleased little smile heâs wearing. Which only makes her smile. And makes him smile wider when he glances over at her.
           Now theyâre both just grinning silently as they cross the last path of uneven stained glass tiles to her garden.
           âDo I at least get gloves?â Lucien asks, stopping with his toes barely crossing the boundary between tile and tilled dirt.
           âAre you afraid for your fingernails?â
           He nods without a hint of humor.
           Elain digs into the pocket of her cotton, yellow dress to pull out her two pairs of gardening gloves. The ones sized for her dainty hands were bought as a gift by Feyre last Solstice. The larger onesâElain bought. And she knew they were for Lucien as she was buying them.
           Admittedly, she wasnât certain, even as she bought them, that Lucien would ever wish to garden with her. Yet, here he is. And here are the gloves she bought for him on a whim.
           He stares at them for a moment, noting the size. Very obviously selected for a male. âWhoâs been foraging with you, Blossom?â he asks mildly.
           âNo one,â she says, âI like to be alone out here. Itâs my little sanctuary.â
           His clockwork eye clicks as he looks around at it, something new touching his expression. Something soft, fond. He accepts the gloves from her, though he doesnât immediately put them on. âI need to pull my hair back,â he says, âGive me one moment.â
           âI can do it for you.â
           The offer comes out entirely innocent, but his reaction is not. He goes still, hands halfway to his hair with a strip of leather between his fingers, and a hint of color brushes across his cheeks as gently as a loverâs caress.
           His throat works. âAre you sure you can reach?â
           She scoffs and slaps him across the shoulder with her gloves.
           Laughing slightly rougher than usual, he effortlessly pulls back his hair and binds it there. She advises him to remove his suit jacket so he doesnât get it dirty. She just wants it off of him. That godawful distracting blue finally, blessedly gone.
           She pulls on her gloves, and he pulls on his. He must note that theyâre the exact size of his hands. He must realize that she commissioned them specifically for him.
           Hopefully, he doesnât question how she got measurements for his hands. Sheâs given him enough reasons already to call her a creep.
           He says nothing. She points him to all the things she needs dug up out of the garden or plucked from a stem, and she sets herself to the simple tending duties. After filling and refilling her watering can twice, she busies herself with removing weeds. She took care of a patch just a few days ago, but she must not have gotten all the roots.
           Her eyes lift from her work, and without meaning to, sheâs staring at him. His sleeves are rolled up now to spare the white of his shirt. Gods, thatâs so much worse.
           He looks debauched. His hair mussed and pulled back, half undressed and kneeling in her sanctuary. Heâs so gentle, like her plants are precious to him because they are to her. Suddenly, she wants to know if heâll talk to them if she leaves him alone.
           Suddenly, she wants. She swallows it down, snapping her attention back to the weeds sheâs pulling. With a slightly too rough yank, she gets a big portion of the stem up from the ground, but she feels the tear of its roots remaining behind in the soil. Sheâll have to pull it again in a few days.
           âI have everything,â Lucien says, his voice soft on the wind.
           Her heart gives a merry little skip. Sheâs in so much trouble. âThank you,â she says, and her voice comes out soft, too, âYou can take it inside. Iâll be there in a moment.â
           She feels his eyes on her as she scrapes loose another weed without looking at him. Then, heâs gone. His jacket goes with him, but his gloves are set gently atop the patio table for her.
           She dares to take a deep breath of her garden. But it smells like him, now.
           She shouldâve known better than to play with his kind of fire. To fool herself into thinking they could be friends. It was a trap she laid for herself in her sleep, and now sheâs stepped directly into it.
           Before she follows him back into the house, she does something silly and whimsical that she hasnât done since her childhood. She lifts the dandelion covered in white fluff up, and she blows on it. A harsh, furious little puff that throws all the fluff into the air.
           Dandelions are meant to be like shooting stars or birthday candles, granting wishes. But as she watches the little white seeds scatter about her garden, she knows sheâs only added a million more roots she wonât be able to clear out.
           In the kitchen, Lucien waits for her. Back in his dusky blue jacket, hair falling free but still a bit mussed. Between two fingers, heâs twirling a small yellow flower back and forth. A dandelion.
           He looks up, from it to her, and he smiles. âGot all the sun you needed, Blossom?â
So what happened here was I texted @witchlingsandwyverns two weeks before I needed this and said, hey you know that starry Feysand piece you did (which is gorgeous and my favorite thing ever created for this fandom)? Would you make the inverse of it for Elucien? And can I have it in two weeks?
And my girl said, "say less." I gave her nothing to work with but she's so talented and so wonderful, she still put this together and it's stunning.
The Final Chapter of ACORAS: the Epilogue, is now posted on AO3
I've been working on this project for years, now. And I can't believe I get to wake up tomorrow (on my birthday, no less) with the knowledge that I've completed the largest project I've ever written. You have my never ending gratitude for supporting my art. Thank you all â€ïž
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
A Court of Ribbons and Shadows is three and a half books
I have been recently informed that ACORAS is, in fact, nearly a million words long, which is absolutely absurd. So I thought Iâd drop my semi-official breakdown of the books of ACORAS for anyone who feels too intimidated to try getting into it.
Book One:
A Court of Ribbons and Shadows
From Chapter one (âI Amâ) through Chapter 11 (âThe End of Something; the Beginning of Somethingâ)Â
     A retelling of the latter half of ACOSF with the focus on Gwyn and Azrielâs growing friendship. Something new is brewing on the horizonâor, perhaps, right under their noses.
Book Two
A Legacy of Storm and Song
From Chapter 12 (âAzriel Talksâ) through Chapter 28 (âFrom Seconds to Eternitiesâ)
   After their ordeal, the Valkyries return to find their lives fundamentally changed. Emerie is no longer welcome in her home, Windhaven. Nesta is set to be tied permanently to Cassian.
   Navigating her fresh romance with the Shadowsinger, a new position in the Night Court, and unfamiliar faces joining their ranksâGwyn finds that the thing she knows the least is her past.Â
   And the Blood Rite, they find, was only the beginning of a greater enemyâs attempts to take their lives.
Book Three
A Ballad of Blaze and Blossom
From Chapter 29 (âThe Song of Sun and Snowâ) through Chapter 42 (âNeverâs End; Foreverâs Renewalâ)
  The threat to Velaris has not gone unheard. Gwyn, Azriel, Emerie, and Balthazar have gone to Winter to track down a lost ally of great and terrible magic. Elain and Lucien are begrudgingly, for now, together in the Summer Court to apprehend an attempted theftâby stealing the incredibly dangerous enchanted object first.
   But a particularly brash River Nymph from the Autumn Court claims that their adversary is little more than a puppet.
Book Four
A Reflection of Gods
From Chapter 43 (âSunfireâ) through Chapter 55 (âCollide.â)
  All secrets have been revealed. Of bloodlines, of powers, of alliances between friend and foe. Even the secrets of love have revealed themselves. Azriel and Gwyn, with Elain and Lucien, are invited to stay in the Haven, a beautiful oasis of libraries in the Day Court, to recover.
  But one mystery remains unsolved. The single hope they have to stop the apparent end of the world is hidden in a storyâlong forgotten tales written by a tribe of Fire Nymphs. Emerie and her Unit must travel to a faraway land to track down the ancient texts.Â
  They meet resistance from an unexpected source.
There are so many scenes from this fic-thatâs-really-a-trilogy that live rent-free in my brain for all time. đ„č if you havenât read it, wtfâs been stopping you?
I know people will look at this and think "I can't start reading a nearly-one-million-word fic," but do NOT sleep on this one. It's beautifully written, the world-building is incredible, and the plot points are perfectly executed (this most recent chapter was just like puzzle pieces all clicking into place). It's a total comfort fic for me--I can't tell you how many times I've read it. So much to love here: Gywnriel healing together, Elucien figuring their shit out (and Elain with a brain), Emerie being a badass, a whole host of loveable secondary OCs, reforming Illyria, tons of mythology around the Koschei conflict. Seriously, it's SO good. Go read it if you haven't already!
Chapter Fifty four of ACORAS is now up on AO3! (Finally)
Gwyn tucks in against Azrielâs side, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. âI donât recognize it,â she says, quiet enough to keep her voice from carrying on the wind, âI thought I would, but itâs just all rocks.â
âMost mountains are made of rocks,â Az says.
âYou would know,â she mutters.
He chuckles. His arm around her shoulders pulls her in closer, a wing rustling open to shield her from the cold. âIs it better,â he asks, âthat you donât recognize it?â
