Triumph festival. Some years it snowed just as it did on the day celebrated by the gathering in Ornyth. Other years the kingsflame still bloomed all across the Plain of Theralis. Winter had come early, snow blanketing the Plain from the dense canopy of Oakwald to the Staghorns, broken only by the paths ploughed by delegates and travelers alike. None wanted to miss the festival. After all no one throws a party like the Galythinius’.
The delegates had been streaming in for weeks, the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen the first to arrive, then came King Dorian and his Hand, Lord Chaol Westfall and Lord Westfall’s Wife Yrene Westfall Healer, on High of the Torre Cesme of the north, and their daughter high spirited girl, always kind to those around her. Then the witches follow each year by a day, Crochan and Ironteeth alike on their brooms of redwood and Wyverns, no longer armed for war but festivities. A sight to behold as they crest the horizon, red cloaks flapping in the wind as the greeting of the wyverns rebound across the plain and off the Staghorns. From the Southern continent comes a host of Ruk Riders led by Emperor Sartaq and Empress Nesryn. Six days and nights of festivities, plays and concerts at the recently completed theater are performed at all times of the day, Madam Florine and her company providing the finest entertainment in Erilea. The seventh day, was one of remembrance, offerings brought to the many monuments around Ornyth, for those who fell during the siege and the countless butchered and enslaved by Erawan controlling the King of Ardlan.
Some escape the festivities, the loss they unearth a weight greater than the stone fortifications of Ornyth, others simply do not know the significance, too young to have comprehend or even have lived through the invasion that nearly ended the world. A lone figure, wrapped in a dark cloak against the swirling winds, her only identifier a white braid, a scrap of red cloth intertwined into the end exits the ancient city through its west gate. Passing under the roaring Lion’s Head at the pinnacle of the archway. Each year this same figure had followed this path faithfully, except this year she was not alone. A much smaller figure, wrapped in a bright red cloak, perhaps tall enough to be a child of just 13 or 14 winters. She hurries after the lone figure, trailing behind enough that she thinks she is unnoticed. The figure had scented her from the moment she left her lodging but paid her no heed believing her to have followed her by coincidence.
Upon leaving the west gate the lonely female turns south towards a patch of ground where the snow dare not touch. Farmers had turned up the soil in the summer months all across the plain, yet they too avoided it, diligently leaving this ground bare. From the eyes of a wyvern one could see a perfect circle of scorched earth and at even intervals, statues, twelve in total plus one in the center. The figure enters the circle, pausing the outer rim, as through a great burden suddenly weighed upon her. The small shadow creeps up to the closest statue, hiding behind the masterfully carved wings of a wyvern, it’s rider standing next to it. The female removes her hood as she stands before the Witch carved from stone, quarried from the Staghorns. A crown shimmering atop her head, her braid woven around its crystalline structure. From beneath her cloak she draws a bouquet of kingsflame and lays a single blossom in front of the plaque upon the base of the statue.
The young girl gasps, to her kingsflame was the most sacred of flowers, to be left undisturbed wherever it may bloom. She quickly claps a hand over her mouth, shrinking back as the queen whips around. The little one hunkers down, closing her eyes hoping she would go unnoticed. A warm puff of air wafts across her face and she opens her eyes in confusion. Another scream nearly escapes her, but is swiftly held down by the clutching fear of the scarred muzzle of a wyvern before her. The crunch of boots comes from around the corner. The unearthly beauty of the Witch queen steals the girl’s breath away.
“P-p-please I d-didn’t mean to disturb you! I was getting away from the festivities.” Her voice small, and quiet as a mouse. The queen studies her for a moment, the wyvern shifting to her side. “Do you know where you stand little one?” She inquires her voice commanding and firm, yet not angry but tempered
“No your majesty.” The girl says, “Mother mostly keeps me in the city, I have never ventured out to this place.”
“And you wear the red of a Crochan, yet I do not recognize you, who did you receive this cloak from.” The queen presses, intrigued by this little stalker.
“Mother passed it on to me, saying she had received it while helping during the siege, a good luck charm she called it.” The little one replies.
“Tell me your name fledgeling and we shall walk and I will explain to you what this place is.”
“My name is Nightlark your majesty.” The little girl replies, pulling back her own hood to reveal raven black hair and golden irises. She follows the Matriarch into the circle of stone wyverns and riders, right to the center statue, she reads the plaque, printed in both common and the language of the Fae.
ASTERIN
SECOND TO WING LEADER MANON
Fell honorably in battle with her sisters in the defense of Erelia and her people’s
“This is a monument to the Thirteen.” The Queen begins, as she retrieves the fallen bouquet, to walk the to each of the statues and place a blossom in front of each plaque. The first in the outer ring reads Sorrel. “They were the finest warriors that I had ever trained. Before we knew that I was half Crochan, we were the most lethal of all witch wings. Everyday we would bring back the hearts of Crochans’ to my Grandmother’s pleasure.”
The trio continues on. Vesta then Faline and Fallon. With each statue a new story. Edda, Briar, Thea. The proud queens voice wavers, the girls hand reach out to intertwine with the queen’s. Kaya, Linnea, Ghislaine, and finally Imogen. They now stand once again before Asterin’s statue. “They sacrificed themselves, so that I and the city might survive… no not just survive, she told me to live.”
She trails off, and Abraxos gives a low whine, as if he too now feels the burden of loss, his own gaze fixed upon the wyvern next to the striking witch. Her voice almost broken rises once more “This circle, was what was left of the forces they destroyed in the Yielding, each statue placed where each member fell.”
A faint crunch of snow comes from behind the girl and she turns, the Matriarch now weeping quietly for her lost family. What the little girls sees nearly takes her breath away. Stepping out from behind each statue is a glowing figure. “Your majesty look!” She says tugging at her companions hand and pointing.
“What is it?” Manon turns but sees nothing but swirling eddies of snow outside of the circle.
“I thought I could see them, each going to the blossom you placed upon their statues and smelling them.” She says, beneath her cloak upon her back, a wyrdmark glows.
“There is nothing child,” the queen says softly, “Leave me to grieve in peace.”
The ghosts walk over to their leader and stand before her, Manon now kneeling, lets the tears flow freely. Asterin is the last to join them, she turns to Nightlark. “Dear child would you be able to relay a message for us?”
“What is it you would like me to tell her?” The queen’s head perks up at this. Asterin says “Tell her none of us regret our decision, and that we always will follow her even in death, and most of all we love her and wish her to live not merely exist.”
The girl turns to the kneeling queen. “They do not regret their decision, and they shall follow you always as they did in life and watch over you as you rule and they wish that you will live, and not spend each day mired down thinking about them.” The queen looks to where the thirteen stand almost aware of their presence for the smallest moment of time. “They will love you now and forever.”
The queen‘s hands clench. “How is it that you may communicate with them.”
“A gift, my mother does not know, only that I have a marking upon my back since birth.” She says,And the little girl kneels next to her, arms tentatively wrapping around the witch’s shoulders. They sit for a long while before they notice a difference. “Where has the music gone?” Nightlark asks, “usually it can be heard for miles.”
The duo turn back towards the city, where they see, a crowd, exiting the southern gate, all wrapped in cloaks, some bearing the red of Crochans others merely holding small red banners with a wyvern embossed upon the fabric. The two stand as the crowd approaches and finally they reach the edge of the circle. Then slowly, the Queen of Terrasen herself steps forward, a small polite bow the Manon, She copies Manon’s ritual placing a blossom at each statues base before silently leaving to stand outside the circle. The rest follow her lead, delegates and townsfolk alike, all approach and bow before Manon before proceeding to lay the blossoms at each marker. Hours pass the girl holding onto Manon’s hand, blossoms slowly but surely covering the circle of earth still blackened and scorched more than a decade afterwards.
“I did not deserve their sacrifice.” She says, the little girl looking up to her. “Then become worthy of it, live and rebuild the witch queendom.”
The queen pauses for a long time, gazing into the swirling snow. “Come before you freeze to death little bird.”
The queen deftly swings herself into Abraxos’ saddle, and pulls the little girl up afterwards. The sun sets as the snow calms to a light shower, the silhouette of the wyvern disappearing into the aerie atop the castle.
“Come home with me, Sister,” Nesta urges, a note of desperation clinging to her request. “Come home with me, and see for yourself. See how our family needs you–how Prythian needs you.”
Feyre loses her steady breathing, staggering between hyperventilating and not breathing at all. Her home, her people…but the contract–
Nesta comes closer to Feyre, grabbing her shoulder to make Feyre look her in her eyes. “I know how you worry. If you were to leave suddenly like now, then you would put father and King Rhysand in danger for their lives. Trust me when I say the consequences won’t be too bad on either of them.”
This knocks Feyre into confusion momentarily. “What do you mean?”
“Feyre, really,” Nesta pauses, then gives a light laugh. “I see the way you look at him. You’ve taken the King in love, as he has you.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Nesta. Really, trying to tease me into coming with you.” Feyre takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Don’t worry, I’ll come with you. Just let me say my goodbyes to everyone. Nuala and Cerridwen will help pack my bags.”
“I’ll call them. You go find your friends.” Nesta walks off, hauling up a bag from Feyre’s floor. She starts humming a little, a nervous habit she’s developed since childhood.
Nervous raps ring from his door. Tap, tap, tap, they go. Ripping apart the silence of his room, leaving him disoriented as he is forced to wake.
The door opens cautiously, forcing him to blink on clothes as he stands from his bed. Feyre is in the doorway, a light blush settling nicely on her face. Rhys stands, going to embrace her. She walks out of his way, which makes him trip on the rug.
“I’m sorry, Rhysand, but I didn’t come to reconcile our, um, lost love,” she starts, a fluttering of sorrow behind her voice. “I’ve actually come to call off any kind of that feeling we have both had for each other. I have to go home, Rhysand.”
“Feyre, you know I won’t stop you,” he replies, then pauses. The pause grows for a bit, then he starts up again. “But, there’s no reason to call off these feelings we have–”
“The contract is a perfect reason. I’m not going to hurt you even more when I’m leaving already, which will hurt you and my father immensely.”
“No, it won’t. That contract expired yesterday with Amarantha’s as we found out your heritage. When you banished her with your powers, you also banished all contracts that were connected to you.”
“Rhys, please–”
“Feyre–”
“No, listen, Rhys–”
“Feyre, there’s no reason to–”
“Rhys, be quiet!” He falls silent, shocked at her outburst. Feyre catches her breath for the hundredth time today, then looks at the King of Noctis. “Rhys, with everything I know now, I am ending something before it happens again. I am ending this between us. I cannot see you come to the rescue and sign your life away again.”
“Feyre,” he breaths out, a noise catching in his voice. He comes closer to her, embracing her quickly. She hugs him back, snuggling into the warmth. “Feyre, I have never seen daylight. I have never seen the sun. Only the moon and stars have ever shone in my kingdom.
“I can only imagine what it feels like. Warm, bright, blinding. I have only one thing–one person to compare such a feeling to. That person is you. You, Feyre, are my Queen. You are my love, my laugh, my light.
“Feyre, you are my everything, all I have seen and all I have not seen. Everything I know and love with everything I want to know and love.
“You are my moon, my star, and my sun. The brightest things in my love in one person, in one great being that I can love for eternity, if you will have me.”
She’s shaking at this point, tears hitting her cheeks. She nods quietly, trying to compose yourself. Shakily, she whispers, “I will have you, Rhysand. I will have you as you, and as no one else.”
“Let me help you free your home then, my sun,” he replies, cradling her in his arms. Kissing the top of her head, he tightens the embrace as she cries more. The stress of the contract finally gone, but only to be replaced by the war that undoubtedly will take place in the coming days. That is one thing that will not easily lift from someone’s spirit.
War may storm in, but it will not be prepared for the Hell that is in store for it.
Aria, daughter to the High Lord of the Night Court, was profoundly glad for the icy, cold wind that tore its way through her clothes, that ripped her hair out of the braid she had hastily plaited that morning. Glad that she was free to feel the sunlight on her face after spending months buried beneath the mountain. The place her father held Court.
She had been looking forward to this trip for months – ever since the High Lord had deemed it a suitable time to visit his wife and son, who had made their home in the Illyrian mountains, to see how his training was progressing.
Months.
She had been waiting months to visit her brother. Such a small pinch of time for the fae but for someone so early in her immortal life, it felt like a lifetime.
No matter who Aria’s father was, Rhys had always been her rock. Sometimes a pain in her ass, but he had always been there for her – except for the past three years when their mother had taken him to live up in the mountains to learn the traditions of her people. Aria rarely saw either of them. She never blamed her mother, not once but… it hurt she couldn’t just winnow to her brother’s room and gossip about boring court intrigue or play games during long, sufferable meetings to pass the time – that she was stuck under a mountain isolated from the world.
When the time had come three years ago, when they had packed their bags, the High Lord requested Aria stay in the Court of Nightmares (the name her and Rhys liked to call their father’s court) and learn the basics of typical court life while her brother trained to be a warrior. So that was where she had been stuck. Alone. For three years.
Of course there had been times Aria had skilfully sneaked out and visited the Illyrian camp home to her family but there was never enough time to stay long. Never enough time to do the things she wanted.
But, this time was different. The High Lord was coming too.
Aria had chosen to fly alone rather than winnow with her father, so she could enjoy the wind on her face as she used the wings she utterly adored. She loved her blue-streaked wings more than anything other than her family; she could fly all day if she was allowed.
Pushing away the memories, Aria could see the snow-covered camp in the distance. The tents and buildings like tiny ants on the hillside that shone as the sun caught the glistening snow. Flapping her wings hard, Aria sped up not wanting to miss a second with her brother and mother. Soon. She would see her family soon…
Smoothly landing outside the house, Aria combed through her knotted hair as she walked up to the wooden door. It took all of one knock before the door was thrown open and her mother enveloped her in a hug so hard she could barely breath.
“I missed you so much” Aria managed to get out as she felt tears swim in her eyes. Her mother was the kindest female she knew. She never once complained about her life no matter how much sorrow she felt. She even took in two other Illyrian boys, who Aria had yet to met as they were always away training when she did manage to visit, as her own children.
“And I you, darling,” her mother replied, finally pulling away to shut the front door. “Where is the High Lord, will he be joining us?” Aria always wondered what was so special about mates when her parents clearly were not meant for each other – her mother was gentle while her father was a man of steel. The lies spun that souls were bonded, made for each other were so beyond her, she doubted she would ever find love like that.
“He’s gone straight to the training rings, I doubt he will be finished any time soon.” With the threat of war looming overhead, the High Lord had made it his mission to rekindle the tenuous relationship the Court had with the Illyrians. In case they did indeed need help should a war arise. The daughter of the Night Court had never been so worried when she first heard her father speak the concerns out loud, knowing Rhys would be sent to fight.
No, she didn’t want to think about that. Not now.
Aria caught the scent of herbs and spices coming from the kitchen and smiled. Her mother also made the best food.
“Come, help me cook dinner,” her mother said as she led her into the kitchen which was empty except from the few cooking pots that held various dishes. Her brother was nowhere in sight. Catching her daughter sigh, her mother supplied “He will be home soon, he’s still training with his brothers.” Aria just picked up a knife and started to chop the vegetables lined on the counter.
“I miss him,”
“I know you do,” was the only response from her mother. Most people knew how close the siblings were especially as both of their powers exceeded any known limit. They understood each other more than anyone else could.
Aria had just finished chopping the vegetables and loading them into the pan when she heard the door open. Aria sprinted out of the room not giving her brother a chance to shut the door as she leapt into Rhys’ arms, hugging him tight.
“You came,” Rhys said pulling away, admiring Aria up and down.
“Of course, where else would I be?” replied Aria, returning the look by surveying her brother up and down; the hard, toned muscle hid beneath Illyrian leathers.
It was only just then she realised the other large body next to her in the hallway. A male roughly the same age as Rhys with shoulder length hair and hazel eyes, whom she instantly liked, smirked as Rhys said, “I don’t think you’ve ever met. Aria meet Cassian, the brute that finds amusement in stealing my food and challenging me to a fight the same day”. Cassian only laughed and clapped Rhys on the back, “Aw is little Rhysie upset he didn’t get to eat his cut up, no crust sandwich?” with which her brother seemed very inclined to argue but Cassian merely nudged him saying, “Oh you are too easy to wind up brother”.
“Will you two stop acting like 5 year olds and come here!” came from the kitchen where their mother was still cooking. The three of them wisely obeyed and waltzed into the kitchen; Rhys joining Aria as she sat at the table while Cassian grabbed an apple and jumped up to sit on the counter. Aria couldn’t hold back her laugh as her mother not so sternly scolded Cassian for eating before dinner.
“Wait until Azriel is here,” her mother reminded the already full-mouthed Illyrian, not taking her eyes off the simmering pots, “And don’t think I can’t see you Rhys eating the dessert”. Rhys’ hand paused just as he was about to swipe another chocolate decoration from the cake. His face, to Aria’s delight, turning a shade of scarlet as he mumbled a quick apology.
Cassian, on the other hand, just whined and took another bite of apple, “But Az will take forever, the High Lord cornered him as soon as we began to leave and we’re growing boys… we need food!”
Aria smiled and stood, beginning to lay the table. Reaching her mother’s side to grab the glasses, she covered her mouth and fake whispered, “Do they always act like such babies?”. Rhys and Cassian’s combined squawk of horror was drowned out by the two females’ soft giggling.
Setting the table, making sure to leave enough room for the large wings everyone had, Aria began to get more nervous. It was as if she had an inner feeling this meeting was going to be important. As if her racing heart was one thud away from being ripped out her chest as it was called to someone. She would ring her hands, busy herself straightening cutlery, even going so far as to play the small piano in the dining room.
Why was meeting Azriel so different to meeting Cassian?
Ten minutes later, the missing brother still hadn’t arrived and Aria couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor Illyrian stuck with her father talking war no doubt. The only thing she knew was that Azriel was the famed shadowsinger that her father couldn’t wait to begin giving orders to. She was painfully aware that should a war occur he would be stationed close to the High Lord, as his spymaster.
Halfway through playing an old Illyrian lullaby the front door opened and a deep melodic voice called from the hall. “Rhys the High Lord wants to speak with you. Something about-” The voice cut off as the young male rounded the corner and stopped, looking directly at Aria. Hazel eyes met violet. Aria didn’t realise she was standing frozen by the piano and almost jumped when she saw her darkness swirling around her tinted with bright starts.
Shadows she realised.
It wasn’t her darkness. It was his shadows – mixing with her stars.
In that moment it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. In that moment there was no one else in the room apart from the two of them as they met each other’s gaze.
In that moment the daughter born of the Night Court’s fate changed.
Aria blinked, coming out of her trance, snapping her magic back into herself. A slight blush tinted her cheeks. She didn’t know what happened, but she took a step towards Azriel who also seemed to be blinking, coming back to reality. She was only vaguely aware of Rhys and Cassian sharing a devilish look in the corner, but she didn’t care, not as she said, “You must be Azriel?”
After a few awkward introductions that just proved Azriel’s shyness, that Aria never really wanted to talk about again but knew she would be subject to Rhys and Cassian’s amusement for eternity, dinner was served. Mor, who was Aria’s only friend in the Court of Nightmares, had surprised Aria’s Mother by arriving just as the family sat down to eat. She had apologised if she was interrupting but her Mother only scoffed and dished some dinner on to a plate and told her to sit down; she was one of the family after all.
“You should have seen the High Lord’s face when Aria refused to travel with the snobby nosed court, saying she would rather fly alone… it was priceless!” Mor exclaimed to the group. Aria tried not to laugh around her full mouth of seasoned chicken (her Mother’s cooking really was the best) as Rhys chuckled, “Oh you do like to wind up our Father, don’t you?”
“You would do the same thing if you were stuck in the dark with those miserable old men all day everyday”. Mor nodded her agreement but the faint smile that had previously adorned Azriel’s face vanished as something unreadable flashed in his hazel eyes at the mention of the dark.
What was that about?
He quickly recovered, politely taking more chicken and asked Aria, “You like to fly?”
“Yes, I don’t get to do it often, we”, Aria gestured to Mor and herself, “don’t go out of the city much but when we do, it’s my favourite thing to do” Azriel glanced at her cobalt streaked wings, nodding in approval.
Rhys, meanwhile looked seriously at her, “Ria, you need to see the sun more, you look so pale stuck under that mountain. We can use training as an excuse for you to visit more often. You’ll need it if a war comes,”
Indeed her golden skin was taking a pale complexion. Aria tried but failed to hide the quiver in her voice as she dared ask, “Do you think a war will start?” The three brothers shared a look which cemented what Aria already knew.
War was coming.
“Our relations are questionable at best with the humans so with the added threat of Hybern who knows what could happen,” Everyone looked down and avoided eye contact, no doubt thinking about the costs war could bring. Lives that could be lost. Aria couldn’t even think about the chance that Rhys might die… or the two Illyrians sat next to him no matter how little she knew of them. Mor took a sip of drink and Aria sensed she was thinking about her own family in these times.
“Come let’s not let this ruin our night,” Aria’s mother said as she squeezed both the young girls’ hands. Dinner resumed after that with everyone tucking into the food and chatting about small things like how the boys’ training was going. The dessert was faultless. The cake lasted less than a few minutes as the five younger fae sighed at the delightful chocolate filling.
When everyone was truly stuffed, Aria not sure if she could move, Cassian thanked their mother for a gorgeous meal. The table was cleared quickly with each person helping and the family retired to the living room for drinks apart from Aria who sat down at the piano again. She loved playing, she could get absorbed in the music and forget about all the worry in the world; she didn’t have to stress about her court, the war, anything, while she delicately touched the chords that composed a story. The notes fell from her fingers as if they were born for that purpose as she played her favourite Illyrian lullaby that despite not being full Illyrian, always reminded her of home.
She forgot anyone else was in the house as the music flowed out of her.
She succumbed to the place she went when she played.
The only noise she could hear was the melody escaping from the piano in front of her.
She finally lost herself in the song as –
“You play that excellently,” Azriel observed as he came to stand behind her stool. Aria physically jumped when she heard his voice and missed a note as her hand slipped, leaving an awful clanging noise to fill the room. “Sorry to interrupt, again,” the shadowsinger added shakily as he brushed his hair back from his face. A nervous habit he seemed to have that Aria couldn’t get enough of.
She couldn’t have already developed a crush on one of Rhys’ brothers, could she?
“It’s okay, thank you though,” Aria said as she slid along the bench leaving enough room for Azriel to sit next to her.
“How did you learn that?” Azriel asked, “My mother used to sing that to me when I was little.” Up close, she could see his eyes were glassy, his eyes revealing that it was a sensitive topic.
“My mother taught me when I was a youngling and I fell in love, I guess I’ve just never forgotten. It reminds me of home for some reason.” Aria looked through her long eye lashes as he met her eyes. They were so close. So close that she could smell his mist and cedar scent which wrapped around him in his shadows. She breathed it in happily. As her emotions went haywire in the presence of the shadowsinger, she accidently let loose on her magic and the night reached out to merge with the shadows once more.
“I would like to hear you play again sometime,” Azriel sighed. No words would leave Aria’s mouth so instead of embarrassing herself appearing like a gobsmacked fish she nodded her acceptance which seemed enough for Azriel as he smiled and looked away from her. Not for the first time that night did Aria feel a blush rise on her cheeks due to the shadowsinger who was currently pressed up against her.
A comfortable silence followed until they heard an “ow!” come from the doorway where Rhys and Cassian heads peered around the corner as they not so inconspicuously spied on the couple. Aria snapped her darkness back into the well of magic she contained and pulled away from Azriel. Azriel just rolled his eyes and said dryly, “No wonder you two never got enlisted for spy duties.”
“No that’s especially for you, little brother,” Rhys remarked as he leaned against the doorway rubbing his head. Aria’s fae ears perked up at that.
“Little?”
Cassian came over and ruffled Azriel’s hair which caused the Illyrian to glare up at his brother as he tried to smooth the disturbed hair as Rhys added, “Azriel is our baby brother, he’s a year older than you”
Wait- he was eighteen?
Aria looked at his beautifully elegant face and before she could attempt to make a joke there was a loud bang as the front door opened. Aria quickly followed her brother and Cassian and Azriel out of the dining room and saw the High Lord stood in the hall with Mor and their Mother.
“Father,” Rhys greeted their Father, “Did you accomplish what you came for?”
The High Lord, radiating power, replied “The Illyrian camp lords are as difficult as ever, but we eventually agreed on an alliance in case of a war.” He focused his attention on Azriel, “I will need to use your skill set soon.”
Aria gulped and shot a look at Cassian who seemed to be eyeing up the High Lord as Azriel turned stiff and said, “Yes Sir, whenever you want me.” It couldn’t be real. It shouldn’t be real. An alliance between the high fae and the Illyrians surely meant the Illyrians in training would be called to fight.
Aria wouldn’t stand for it.
“Now that is settled, I’m sorry we can’t stay long. We must get back home,” Home. Aria was filled with disgust. That mountain was not her home. Her home was with her family – here on the mountains, where the wind and shadows called her name. Her Father’s next words made tears collect in her eyes.
“Aria let’s go… You too Morrigan.”
No.
No. No. No. No.
She had only been here for a few hours. She couldn’t leave. She had only laughed with her brother for hours. She had only just met two people who so clearly would change her life. But, to spare Rhys pleading or her Mother getting involved, Aria grabbed hold of Rhys in a tight hug. Rhys gripped her waist and whispered into her hair, “I’ll see you soon.” Their dark power embraced in it’s entrancing way as if they were connected by the same star.
In the corner of her eye she saw Mor saying goodbye to everyone. Having already visited the camps, she had met Cassian and Azriel before so gave them a quick hug telling them she would be back training soon enough, so they better watch out. Aria’s mother’s hug was in competition with Rhys’ solid embrace and when she pulled away, her mother ran her hand through Aria’s hair and gave her a tenderly kiss on the cheek.
It was Aria’s turn to swap with Mor as she approached the two illyrians who seemed as much as her brothers as Rhys’. Aria wasn’t even sick of hugging when Cassian surprised her by pulling her in; she came up to his chin he was so tall. “It was good meeting you finally,”
“Likewise,” he huffed heartily as he rustled her hair too.
Then she turned to Azriel who was waiting in the shadows as if he belonged there. She nervously curled her hair behind her eye. Why did she not want to leave him most of all? It suddenly hit her that if a war did occur she may never see any of them again. Apparently, Azriel could sense her panic and took her hand, “You’ll have to come back so you can play for me again,” he tried to joke. Aria nodded and folded herself in his arms. She marvelled at how perfectly they fitted together.
After a slight cough from her father, she released herself from their joint position and joined the High Lord by the door with Mor to be winnowed out. She looked back once more to see her family as the world turned to dust around her, as she returned to the Court of Nightmares.
And with that, the bright star- filled daughter of the Night Court wondered if she would ever see the quiet boy of shadows again.
author’s note ; because i miss writing, and i love aelin, and rowaelin is giving me life. because @rowaelinsmut is a goddess and has helped me feel so at home in this fandom and has just been an overall delight for all my obnoxious, any-time-of-day squealing. thank you for your kindness and support and for just being you. anyway feedback is most appreciated bc i am an attention ho and also it helps to know what the audience likes :”) tITLE TO BE DETERMINED IM SHIT AT THEM SO this is a stand-in lmao word count ; 1920 ship ; rowaelin chapter rating ; t for language, sexual themes tags ; au, modern setting, rowaelin, humor, romance tag list ; (let me know if you want to be added/taken off/if i missed you!)
She rolled her eyes, the dim amber light from the salt lamp set atop her nightstand illuminating her features rather darkly. Circles lined her eyes, shadows crossed her brows, and the wind from a low-powered fan blew hair across her forehead causing a tickle of discomfort. With a disgruntled groan, Aelin shifted in bed and set down her phone.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, fingernails digging into her palms as she considered her options. On one hand, there resided in her top drawer a very wonderful, well-used toy. On the other hand, the peskier of two hands, she fucking missed flirting. The latter thought is what propelled her, with an air of absolute self-loathing, to grab once more for her mobile device and blind herself by the world of Tinder.
Cardan shot
her a bemused look. “The surprise you have tried to ruin so very hard.”
Jude
inhaled deeply and slid off the horse, charging at him in outrage. “Cardan, I
have things to do! Running a kingdom, amongst other things. Your
kingdom, if I may remind you. I don’t have time for a damn picnic!”
Cardan
pouted and continued walking, leading the steed down to the water’s edge, so it
could quench its thirst. Jude followed, hot on his heels. And then he started
taking off his clothes.
A daughter born of stars. A son raised as a shadow. Together, a couple forged by night.
A Night Court Heir’s fate will change.
Aria, daughter to the High Lord of Night, couldn’t wait to visit her mother and brother in the Illyrian camp after spending months secluded in the Court of Nightmares. While there, she meets Rhys’ new brothers in arms: Cassian, the lovable warrior and Azriel, the quiet shadowsinger.
But somewhere war is brewing. Something below the mountain is stirring. Someone wants her dead…
Trying to traverse her court through difficult times, Aria is forced to deceive and sacrifice all she has known to uphold the vow she made to her court – no matter the cost.
As court turns on court, the daughter of the night court’s life will never be the same. Can the Illyrian with the blue siphons help her not succumb to the darkness threatening the land?
Here is the story of the couple of stars and shadows…
Hey guys so this is my new fic i’ve been working on! Can’t wait to share it with you!
The first chapter is almost ready! I will hopefully post it tomorrow at the latest. I hope you enjoy it!
foxboylucien 