e x i l e

-

“E-excuse me?” she muttered under her breath with a raised brow as the woman who plowed into her told her to watch where she was going. Alina had been treated rudely all her life to not expect such attitudes by now, but it didn’t make it any less frustration when it happened. 

Her sympathetic look falling across her gaze as she met the eyes of the poor footman whom had to been stumbling around by the cat eyed woman’s command, clearly overworked and all too under-appreciated. But, her momentary gaze on the man quickly turned towards the cockroach scurrying across the ground. Carefully scooping the little guy up in her hands as she offered the what she, hoped to be a pet, back over to the woman.

“I have. It’s just not every day you see one being carried around on one’s shoulder like that of a prized bird is all,” Alina said simply back, finding the cold and collected woman before her to be more peculiar with each passing moment.

-

“He was very expensive.” Dove could only responded with a simple shrug, jostling the bug slightly on her shoulder before it found its purchase under her collar. “They make much better pets too. Not loud, not too high maintenance.” Her eyes then narrowed before she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“And they keep people away.” She paused for a moment before she gave the woman a quick once over. 

“... Not many people have the nerve to pick him up. Are you not afraid of bugs?” 

“Are you suggesting I am not worthy of her favor?” Darcy challenges with a quizzical nod. A last-ditch attempt to pry her sister’s speculative, Emerald gaze away so that the matter may be resolved. “I am many things, but a poor handmaiden is not one of them.” For all the difficulties that came with her servitude, even Darcy had to admit the pride she took at the task at hand. She would never be grand, but she had provided for herself in her own right. She yelps at Del’s sudden exasperation, pushing aside a fray blond hair. 

“Of course not.” Darcy immediately denies, her face flushed at the insinuation. Her work  at hand, married with Darcy’s eternal pragmatism, made it so that the thought of romantic affection was far from her mind. With a huff, she slumps onto the edge of her cot in surrender. 

“It was a present from a new friend.” Passing a glance towards her sister, and noting the curious eyes, she sighs yet again. “The Prince of the Day Court. I made his acquaintance at the wedding, and…” Darcy shrugs. “We seem to be friendly.”

-

“I am suggesting that mere favor does not earn you something so sparkly.” Delphine said with a certainty that surprised even her. She may not know much, but she knew the value of presents. No, those jewels could not have come from someone who was merely just a friend. It did not bear from fondness, but something much more... complicated. 

Delphine’s smile faltered till it was pulled into a tight and thin line. She made a beeline straight for her sister before she stopped just a few inches behind her, nose just hovering over her shoulder like a fly. Eyes inquisitive. 

And then... a gasp. 

“You’re fucking the Day Court prince?!” Her voice was now a desperate whisper, as if the wind had been knocked out of her. “Darcy are you mad?” 

-

“Spoken like a true captain.” Jacqueline bemoans with a pert smile, as if such a compliment could deter from the purposefulness in his eyes. It was the same glimmer that existed on the eve of the Beaumont-Wren festivities, as he searched for the monster beneath the preening smile. This time; however, it was built on a foundation more formidable than doubt. It was a purpose built on his bursting heart. The raven-haired advisor debated her choice of words. An admission of glorious love would be easiest.

And while it was within her duplicitous capabilities, the words he required were not a farce. And that, in and of itself, made it the last turn of phrase she could come to. At least, not without exposing her own cards in the process.

But his talk of loss allows her hazel eyes to steel, catching more of what burned in Matthew’s psyche. With narrowed eyes, she cannot help but challenge quietly. “You burn for me, yet you still carry your torch for her. Is this truly about my affections? Or do wish to see if your consolation prize was worth the sacrifice?”

At his question, she can only gesture to the minuscule space between them. “What’s already happening.” Jacqueline answers simply. “You wish for a great love, and you are disappointed in the realities of it. In the reality of me.” Unable to stop herself, the chaotic smirk of the Night Court’s viper surfaced. “Or is the moon only as beautiful as its dark side?”

-

Jacqueline had always been blue fire. It was what had pulled him to her all those years ago, the unnerving heat that burned despite her insisting that she was ice. She was the fire to his own, a clashing heat that despite its beauty when burned together, was destructive almost to the point of... catastrophe. He watched her eyes turn to steel, the way his own turned molten with a fury that he didn’t understand... or perhaps it was something else? Something just as wild and as uncontainable. 

“I do not hold a torch for her. Not anymore.” The words tasted like acid on his tongue. “I let her go. I let her go because it was the right thing to do, because it would be selfish of me to hold on to someone that didn’t want me to. I let go because it was- it was-...” He felt himself trip over his words in his desperation to grab at the strings of his heart to perhaps pull it closed. “It was tearing me apart. My love for her was ripping me to pieces, and I can’t... I won’t survive it if my love for you will do the same.” His words came out broken as his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

His love for her... 

A tense silence filled the air as they stared each other down, Matthew’s gaze searching for something... anything. 

“I just need to know, my moon... Put me out of my misery and remove this doubt that I can’t seem to dispel. You and I... what we have... is it real?” 

Cian nodded to Matthew; it had been some years since both were at the Old House. Cian’s dark memories haunted the halls, but there is some fondness towards his ancestral home when Cian hosted friends. He turned to the door and hollered down the hall for his page; a scrawny fae boy clopped quickly down the hall to his master and into Cian’s quarters. “Fetch mine and Sir Loudain’s flying leathers,” he ordered sharply. “After we leave, pack up my quarters. I will need all of my drafts and any new work. Send it to the Old House. I will take residence there until the Printsessa’s wedding.” The page boy nodded and scurried out the door and to fetch the leathers and brought back a court attendant to help with packing up the office. The old friends put on their flying leathers and made their way to the East Tower to take off.

It was a short two hour flight to Cian’s home towards the coast of the Autumn Court. Under the flying fae was a stretching forest of evergreens and lofty trees sparse of leaves. Flying with Matthew felt comforting, like reading a favorite book. Cian felt more relaxed and natural than he has in weeks. The feeling of wind under Cian’s wings woke up, like since the Night Court wedding, Cian has been asleep, running on instinct and royal orders. 

When the Old House was in view, Cain descended and landed softly in front of the ancient home. It had a wild look about it; since Cian hadn’t appointed a new grounds keeper, the wind autumn nature started to reclaim the estate grounds. Purple heather, myrtle and thistle dotted the landscape as the rolling grass hills spilled to the wine dark sea. It was ethereal in its beauty, Cian almost forgot why he took residence at court when his county held such beauty; but a hollow memory flickered across his mind. The brutal lessons and standards of his uncle, Lord de Goethe made Cian flintch. Thankfully, a maternal voice spoke bringing Cian back, “Master Cian!” 

A short and plump fae woman waddled from the dark threshold and towards Cian and Matthew. “Yer home! Ye dinna’ send word that yee were coming. Master Matthew, oh how good of yee to come home with Master Cian!” 

Cian cooed a familia reply to the woman in the native autumn tongue. “Misses Kirk, we came for the quartering.”

-

Matthew’s past was made up of blurry memories and ghosts he kept hidden in the darkest corners of his mind. And keeping them there usually meant staying away from anything that might trigger it... but the flight back home, past the blood red leaves of Autumn, on route he would forever know, like a map made up of the veins on his palm... it still managed to warm his bleeding heart. Cian’s home was no different. 

As boys, they had gone back and forth between each other’s residences, his home and the other’s blurring into one. In a spontaneous burst of euphoria, he stretched out his wings and let out a whoop of excitement, dipping and circling through the clouds as the familiar adrenaline that coursed through his very being heightened as wind filled his lungs. 

Before long, they were landing, Matthew’s hair windswept and expression almost drunk from the energy of being back. He turned at the familiar voice before letting out a booming laugh, sweeping the matronly fae up in his arms and pressing kisses against her ruddy cheeks affectionately. 

“’Twas a challenge, Mrs. Kirk, believe me. I sometimes have to feign death to get ol’ Cian here to look up from his paperwork! ‘Tis a good thing I am his favorite person.” He said with a wink before throwing a casual arm around the older fae. “I am famished. Your master here promised me hospitality, isn’t that right, Cian?” 

.

The thorn’s dark eyes narrowed as he spoke. She wanted to snap at him, but was far too preoccupied with making sure she was gentle. It was tempting to tell him she was a thorn - honor was not her specialty. His chuckle stopped her from pointing out that one so clearly gallant would need more than that to tarnish their honor. She gestured and started to lead to her home and sighed. 

“There isn’t much to tell. I’ve travelled some, stayed with some friends. Nothing horrifically exciting, I must confess,” the nymph answered quietly. It was odd that he almost seemed actually interested in what she’d done. “And yourself? Still rescuing stray nymphs, or has that slowed down a little?”

-

“Ah, but horrifically exciting is what I live for.” Matthew said with a shake of his head, still very good natured despite the wound currently gaping at his side. He then winced as the movement of walking back to her place put some strain on the gash. “Though I must admit... If horrifically exciting gets you flung around by hurricanes, maybe I should stay clear. I’m happy you managed to find peace, travel and good company, no matter how mundane you think that to be.” He shot her a smile before shrugging his shoulders, smile turning wolfish. 

“So we agree that I rescued you then?” He teased only to let out a low laugh. “No, if I’m being honest, I may the one that needs saving. I have been a fool in more ways than one. Matters of the heart aren’t necessarily my... forte.” He had the decency to look sheepish. 

“Perhaps you can help me in that regard as well, my lady.” 

-

Alina + Open (to Anyone) @ahqstart​

“Hey,” Alina let out a soft, but irritated breath as the stranger tore past her, colliding into her shoulder amongst the streets of the busy market place. She was about to turn on the heels of her feet, all too use to the hustle and bustle of the neutral territory to be fazed by it. But, before the handmaiden could fully spin around, she noticed the stranger’s fallen belongings had spilled out across the ground. “Hey, I think you dropped you’re-?” Alina started to scramble to help pick it up, only for eyes to widen at the sight of what exactly the other had left behind.

-

“Have it all sent back to the apartments. I have grown bored.” Dove said with an exaggerated yawn, waving to the footman her current lover had sent to accompany her on her shopping spree. 

And shop she did. 

The poor man seemed overwhelmed by the boxes and bags the fae had asked him to hold for her, nodding his head and scurrying off to do as he was told (with a good grumble and huff for good measure of course). Dove couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction, a feral grin like a cat that just got its cream. She turned to peruse another nearby kiosk only to run into someone. Her eyes narrowed, lips pursing in irritation. 

“Watch where you’re going.” She said just as softly, voice lined with ice, only to look down at what the other picked up. With a studied gaze, she reached out and took it back. 

“Never seen a cockroach before?” She asked as if she were talking about the weather, caressing the glossy shell of her hissing cockroach and placing it back on her shoulder. 

~*{ raymond & delphine }*~

@mncmosyne​

Raymond mission into Dawn seemed to take him deeper than he’d planned. What was once only meant to be a single day excersion into Avalon City quickly yawned into another — while he had discovered a fiery human living and working within the inner circle of Dawn, it did not stop him from seeking… well, seeking additional information, so to speak. There had seemed to be some sort of stir within Dawn only recently, and though his glamored wing twitched ever so slightly with worry, it seemed to be the stir that the Underworld could have been looking for. Once more, it seemed as if the monarchs of Astralis’ morning were keeping more secrets than the rest of the continent knew — and while Raymond had never been one for sniffing out secrets, it was his job as a rebel to chase any leads that he could.

It was different than his normal role, cracking skulls and hunting down fae wings to sell for coin to fill their reserves. Raymond was not the inconspicuous type. Towering frame, stocky shoulders, half his face and body mangled. He stood out like a sore thumb against the undeniable splendor of Dawn Court, yet save for the wedding, Raymond had been out of the eye of the fae for a decade now. Only those who knew him closely would recognize him now, and save for a few whores at the lavish brothels on the outskirts of the city, his close companions were now far and few outside of the Resistance. An extra day within Dawn wouldn’t hurt anything — especially if he could find out more in addition to sniffing out possible human allies.

Hopefully.

Unlike yesterday, Raymond exploration had taken him away from the market and instead closer to the Glass Palace and into one of the many courtyards that surrounded it. He sought out a servants entrance, taking special care to yank the hood of his cloak up over his head to shadow his features as he carefully inserted himself into the throng of servants moving in and out, hauling expensive sparkling wines and… what looked like some sort of silk contraption that he wasn’t sure he should be afraid of or ask if he could try it out for the night.

His hazel eyes swept the crowd, not completely sure of what he was looking for. That is, until his eyes landed onto a particular head of blonde hair that caused his mouth to once more stretch into a canine grin. The human from the day before. Crossing the court yard, Ray reached out a large hand to grasp her by the shoulder, chuckling low in his throat. “Fancy meeting you again, lass —” His words stopped short upon the realization that the woman was not the one from yesterday, rather one that simply looked… strikingly similar. “Shit. You ain’t who I thought you were. Not normally one to fuck up like that. Well, most the time.”

-

“You didn’t get this from me, but I hear that the Baron was seen scuttling out of a brothel the day before last.” Delphine’s eyes sparked something mischievous as she lifted a basket of silks from one of the traders that had dropped it off. Her companion let out a conspiratorial gasp, leaning in closer as the other fae nodded her head in enthusiasm. “The gossip is that he was seen leaving just after midnight. That scoundrel, truly. Men make my skin crawl sometimes. And to think his wife had just given him his third child!” She scowled at the thought before shaking her head with a dramatic click of her tongue. 

She was about to go on another tirade of nonsensical hear-say till Delphine felt a hand rest against her shoulder, followed by a low rumbling voice that had her jumping up a few inches from the ground in surprise, the basket of silk flailing slightly till its contents fluttered to the ground. 

“Holy Satan’s testicles!” She yelped, twirling around in a whirlwind of blonde, only to find herself running into a particularly solid chest. Her scowl deepened, eyes moving up to meet the man’s unfamiliar face. “Warn a woman before you sneak up on someone like that!” She finally said, voice pinched and eyes blazing before averting her attention to the scarves that now littered the floor, then noticing that her companion had left her to deal with her dilemma herself. 

“You best hope none of these scarves were ruined.” She growled once more at the man, a man that looked to probably be capable of breaking her in two if she didn’t mind her words. At this point though, she couldn’t find it in herself to be courteous. Her heart was hammering against her chest from the surprise, cheeks flushed as she crouched down to collect the fallen silks. 

♡

It had been a no-brainer for Tatiana to have Christmas gifts sent to Matthew. It did not matter that she hadn’t seen him in longer than she could recall, or that the last time she’d heard his voice, it had been underwater in a dream she’d had far too many times to count. Swimming with him in the near-frozen lake, watching the shadows of his strong, tensile limbs drifting further out into the icy current than she was capable of reaching, and hearing him call out to her one final time before she finally woke up…as Winter Court’s reigning princess, Tatiana had never feared the cold, but the absence of Matthew’s presence in her life was an unforgiving chill that she just couldn’t seem to shake no matter how desperately she tried. Alas…her feelings of fond affection for the Captain of the Guard had never wavered, nor had her still-lingering sense of devotion.

And seeing him now brought everything back. “Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly in delight when he revealed to her that he had indeed received his presents earlier on in the morning, and that he’d even given a name to the specially-bred griffin she’d had sent his way. He’d murmured something beforehand, too, but it had been so faint and so quiet that she hadn’t quite been able to make it out. “Malen'kaya Tundra; that is being much perfect name for big man’s little familiar, and I am sure that your baby sister will becoming very fond of him before long. He is from same background as Tatia’s Kroshka; they are sharing same bloodline!” In what was perhaps a gesture of nervousness, even though she was beaming up at him, Tatiana clutched her tiny hands together anxiously, and breathed out a small, shaky little breath. She wanted to hug him, but…

There was silence, now, as Matthew stepped towards her, and a thousand different sentences started and ended on the tsarina’s tongue long before she was able to speak them into existence. Instead, she found herself fidgeting with her pouty bottom lip, worrying away at the tender swell of it with her teeth as yet another dusting of frost from her snow owl wings gave way to her sense of apprehension. Where had he been as of late? What had he been up to? So much had happened to Tatiana within the last six months, between Ares and then Henryk, and she realized then that…she and Matthew might have been strangers, for as little as they knew about one another now. The painful dawning of it all caused her heart to break in her chest.

“Met'yu?” she began tentatively as he retrieved a velvet satchel from his pocket; he’d given her plenty of presents throughout the years, but it felt odd to accept anything from him now, despite the array of gifts she herself had delivered to his doorstep mere hours ago. Matthew took hold of her hand, then, and she instinctively fluttered her gaze downward to watch the way that his fingers, calloused and scarred, folded so gently over her own. “Oh, Matthew,” she said softly, with a tiny intake of breath, and her seaglass-blue eyes opened helplessly wide when the contents of the pouch were finally revealed to her. She drew it open slowly, hesitantly, and by the time a brilliant gold ring - delicate but sturdy, with autumn leaves etched into its band - was placed in the palm of her hand, its ruby gemstone catching every light in the room as if it were blazing firelight, Tatiana felt both love and pain all at once, both tremendous and shattering. 

“So many years ago,” she breathed instinctively, in a voice that wobbled and stumbled over itself like the toddler-aged griffins as they learned how to walk. Her words caught, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut as the old hurt she’d kept locked away in a box that only Matthew held the key to washed over her in a sudden wave of agony. “This is being far more wonderful than anything I having give to you today, Met'yu,” she whispered shakily, even as her eyes remained shut and quivering; she was trying not to cry. All the while, his beautiful ring remained in the palm of her tiny hand. “But I cannot help but wishing it not taking you so long to bring here.” 

-

He had to smile, wane and regretful before nodding his head in agreement. “I wish I had given it to you sooner too.” He responded quietly, finally lifting his gaze to meet her own. A moment passed between them before he let out a breath, grasping at her wrists in an attempt to steady himself. “There are plenty of things I wish I had done sooner.” He didn’t realize it, but he felt himself lean in just a fraction, slowly losing himself in her eyes, the blue like an ocean to a sailor, his heart moving towards the one person he was so sure of. 

But certainty was nothing without action at the end of the day. 

He brushed his nose against hers, breathing in everything that made her her, though not moving any closer. There was a line, and he could not bring himself to cross it for fear of absolutely shattering himself into pieces. Instead, he rested his forehead against her own and allowed himself to enjoy this moment... for deep down he knew... this may be their last. In this lifetime at least. 

“I met you in this room... so many years ago.” His memories drifted to the absolute awe he felt when he saw her. “And every time after that, slowly, my heart chipped itself away till all of its pieces rested itself in your hands.” He took the ring that was in her palm before slowly sliding it onto her ring finger, wondering for a moment what it would have been like had he gotten things right. He then folded their hands together, tangling his fingers with her own till they were bound tightly. 

A painful quiet settled between the two, cold and heavy like a tundra that he could not escape. One he didn’t want to. 

“Tatiana... I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” He finally said, voice hoarse with emotion as he held her gaze with his. “And there is a part of me that thinks, perhaps I had loved you even before then.” There was a wild desperation then that creeped between his words like ivy, growing and suffocating him before finally letting out a breath of relief once spoken. He moved a free hand to cup at her cheek before shaking his head. 

“I... I see our future in your eyes... I see our past in your smile... and I feel my present, my being, my everything when you say my name. And it’s driven me mad because I want to love you... with every fiber of my being, I want to love you.” His smile grew broken before he let out a small sigh. 

“But I fear I am too late.”  And in the deep crevices of his mind, a voice that sounded painfully like himself whispered. 

Again. 

“Lady Dove?... Lady Dove?” 

Her attention snapped back to the group of ladies she had been having tea with, all of them staring back at her in mild irritation. She hadn’t been minding them... not that that was much of a surprise. They were all terribly dull. She shot them a beatific smile before shaking her head. 

“Forgive me, my mind wandered.” She purred, nibbling on a cookie. One of the ladies harrumphed before smoothing down her dress. “I was merely asking your opinion on whether or not you feel silk is the new lace.” 

Oh god, someone put her out of her misery.

She was about ready to zone out once more till movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned slightly and (almost embarrassingly so) perked up in an instant, straightening in her chair at the sight of him. 

Henry. 

Without another thought, she pushed herself out of the chair she had been occupying in favor of gathering her skirts in a quick curtsy that probably didn’t sit well with anyone. “I’m sorry, my ladies, but it seems I forgot a previous engagement I had. Perhaps next time you may... fascinate me more with your... most titilating conversation.” The sarcasm fell like venom, eyes glinting something mischievous before she turned on her heel and all but ran towards Henry with a growing smile. 

Before he could protest, she wrapped herself around him, arms slithering around his neck as she flashed him a smile. 

-

It was the most beautiful thing that the handmaiden ever possessed. Gleaming beautifully, its intricate jewels wreaked of nobility and wealth. While Darcy was not one for lavish things, to part with it felt too woeful a thought. It was a present, yes, but one from a fae who wished to think of her as something entirely different. She crinkles her nose at the accusation in Del’s tone. She would be offended, if Del did not know of her menial wage (subtracted, of course, for her mother’s rolling debts).

“No, of course not. I just don’t like taking it out of the dresser. The other servants will throw a fit.” Darcy excuses, ignoring the close proximity of her sister’s. Del’s targeted eyes could undo even the most skilled of actors, of which Darcy was not. “It was a gift from my Lady. She has plenty of jewels, and thought I could wear it when I accompany her to special events.” She lies through gritted teeth, her hands reaching for the empty envelope on the vanity.

“We don’t keep secrets, Del.” Darcy answers routinely, pushing the envelope into the drawer.

-

Her sister was many things, but a liar was not one of them. No, that unsavory skill fell to her. She narrowed her eyes even further before taking a seat atop the small bed. “I didn’t realize Lady Louisa favored you that much.” She said, pursing her lips in thought. She gave her sister a few beats before finally flinging her hands up in dramatic rage. 

“Darcy, I’m your sister! I know when you’re lying to me, and right now, you’re lying between your teeth!” Her eyes then sparkled with a renewed mischief. 

“Is it a lover? A suitor?” She gasped. 

“Are you sleeping around?” Her tone then grew mildly proud. 

-

“A little bit of danger was never enough to scare you off.” Jacqueline deflects expertly, fluid in the art of speaking without committing to a singular truth. In any other land, with any other man, her words would provoke nothing but appreciation and humor. Men certainly took to the enigma of the waif’s slick tongue. Matthew; however, was a man for whom truth was the be all, end all. It would be ironic, then. The devotion he felt for a woman who did not know the meaning of the truth. Humorous, almost, if it did not begin to stir doubts in Jacqueline’s own mind.

Her mind was muddled, as a sinking feeling akin to guilt settled in her stomach. She could not recall the last time such a feeling lived within her. Her throat bobs, a feeling of dryness in her mouth as she’s confronted with Matthew’s confession. The raven-haired woman should feel nothing short of accomplished. She had ensnared his heart and pulled the proverbial wool over his eyes. Instead, a discomfort settles, as she felt her heart race at the depth of his gaze.

Jacqueline averts her gaze to the portrait. Silent and pensive, as she looked to the brush strokes for answers. The emotional appeal felt heavy and purposeful, as Matthew’s questioning eyes burned against her cheek. Finally, her lips part hesitantly. Without his touch, his kiss, or the noise of others to bury herself in – her words were pronounced within the room. “You make me. feel…” Jacqueline begins slowly, brows fussed together as she searched for the words. An emotional admission was hardly her forte, even less so when it involved a changing heart. Her eyes find the floor, as her nimble fingers brush along his.

“You make me feel.” Jacqueline whispers silently. “And I cannot say, for certain, if that makes me capable of the things you seek.” In a moment of unabashed honesty, she flickers her eyes towards him. “But no matter what happens, I hope you always know that to be true.”

-

“It does not make it any less scary.” He said with gritted teeth. They shared another silence before Matthew finally turned to her fully, wondering why this suddenly felt so important. Perhaps it was because his soul was still ringing from the loss of his great love, of letting go of someone who had been so important to him for so long. His heart was bleeding and he didn’t know how else to stop it. 

Do not let it be the death of you. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind as he steeled himself to not lose courage in his convictions. 

“But there are things that are more important than fear, Jacqueline. Things I can no longer turn a blind eye on.” His heart continued to pound in his chest, only to sink further into his stomach at her words. 

“I make you feel?” The winds inside of him seemed to pick up, the tell tale signs of a hurricane he tried very hard to stomp down. He reached out but stopped himself, instead closing the distance between them so that he was but inches away from her. 

“I burn for you. You haunt my thoughts, day and night. I lost-” He stopped himself, because truly it was not fair. Perhaps his intentions were not as pure as he thought. 

“And I make you... feel.” It was not enough. He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, only to freeze, turning to her with a frown. 

“What might happen, Jacqueline?” His edges were fraying, the doubt like a fire eating up at his sanity. 

“You can’t just throw me out like this!” Oh but apparently he can. She struggled against the man’s grip till he finally let her go once they were on the streets. “You got what you wanted. You should be... decently compensated now with-” 

“I am not some common whore you can pay for then do away with.” She hissed, clutching her haphazardly thrown on dress to her chest, the laces still undone. The man, a low noble with a near irrelevant family name looked at her with disdain. “Never come back.” He said lowly before slamming the door in her face. Del sat on the cobbled streets of the outskirts of Dawn before letting out a frustrated growl, pushing herself up into a standing position and sweeping the blonde out of her face with a huff. 

She attempted to straighten her dress, only to catch movement in the corners of her tear-pricked eyes. 

“Move along, there’s nothing to see here.” She sniffled. 

@mncmosyne​

True to its name, it felt as if the sun never set upon the Dawn Court. Or, more accurately, the depths of the Caerwyn Dukedom. The tasks seemed endless, with the ill Duke’s temperament making the work worse for wear. After a frenzy of tasks about the estate, she felt her back ache for the rest after a hard day’s work. It was not her opposition to hard work (though she would gladly escape it once and awhile), but the hopelessness that accompanied it. She made her way through the narrow halls leading into the servant’s quarters, carrying with her a plate of leftovers from the Duke and Duchy’s dinner.

Stopping at her door, she hears shuffling and movements from insider her bedroom. With one hand against the door, she pushes it open, only to catch the familiar sight of Del herself. It wouldn’t be alarming in normal circumstances. But there was a look in her sister’s eye that implied shock and confusion. As her eyes glance away from the winged blond, she catches the sheen of a a gold and amethyst necklace strewn atop her dressed. Beside it, the matching bracelet and earrings.

“You can’t just go through my things, Del.” Darcy admonishes, looking past her sister’s pointed gaze as she quickly stuffs the extravagant jewelry back into her vanity.

-

Del realized her mind had gone still the moment she saw it. Glittering, beautiful and expensive. Far too expensive for her sister to purchase, and certainly too decorative for Darcy to want for herself in the first place. Her hands seemed to be made of stone as she gingerly caressed the jewels, turning slowly at the sound of her sister’s reprimand. 

The scolding fell on deaf ears. 

“Where did you get this?” She asked, not putting up a fight as her sister all but tore the necklace away from her. She followed the other with hawk like eyes. “You’re certainly not one for theft. You have no means of purchase... Who gave that to you?” She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but it came out that way all the same. Perhaps it was just the sudden distance she felt from Darcy because of her not knowing. 

“Are you keeping something from me?” 

-

The power of art, Jacqueline discerned, was its ability to reflect everything yet nothing at the same time. While her talents lay with her piano forte, a substantial piece of art seemed far more appropriate for the Autumn Court and its residents. It seemed; however, that it stirred a curiosity in the man whose occupancy of her bed had become commonplace. After an invitation to the castle of Highwinds Glen, she was directed to the gallery where the portrait hung against the beige wall. 

“It’s quite lovely, is it not?” Jacqueline bemoans appreciatively, coming to his side as she surveyed the portrait closely. Lips quirked thoughtfully, as she maintains a leveled gaze. “Nowhere in Astralis is the expression of art as intimate as the Night Court.” Her fingers thread along the sleeve of her velvet dress, before asking promptly. “It’s not a crime to admire what you cannot understand. Though, I imagine, that it won’t suffice.” Sighing, she passes a glance to the Captain beside her. “What would you like to know?”

-

“It is not a crime to admire what we cannot understand, yes... but it is a danger when one gets too ensnared.” He said in response. He turned to her and wondered why he had never asked her the question that stood precariously on the tip of his tongue before. All those nights tangled in each other, sneaking around in the shadows, losing themselves in each other till neither knew where one began and one ended. 

All those moments of quiet tenderness, of his fingers tangled in her hair, of the peace that came from their long walks and time spent just enjoying the other’s company. 

“These feelings...” He began, forcing himself to move forward with his words. “My moon, you must know that I hold deep feelings for you. Crippling to the point of blindness. Are they in vain?” In that moment he turned to her, eyes piercing as he tried to search for answers. 

Yadriel Demir wasn’t at all the sort of man who found himself falling for inelegant, bungling traps in the woods, but this was no simple mechanism that he’d stumbled upon. No… the sharpened metal digging into his skin felt like the iron-tipped razor wire the Resistance encircled their camp with to keep out the Fair Folk, it was skillfully made and almost artful if he was being completely honest. There was a certain grace to it that one didn’t often see in devices like this, then again, when was the last time he’d ever encountered a man sized bear trap before? Bigger than that, actually, it could have taken down one of the fucking Wild Hunt Fae, he’d bet money on it, too.

There was an odd squawking sound from a distance and then the undeniable rustling of someone stepping through the foliage. With a low growl, Yadriel yanked his head upward, upper lip curled back in a furious sneer as he prepared to lash out at whoever it was that had trapped him, but his eyes narrowed in both shock and anger when he realized it wasn’t a man like he had previously assumed, but rather… a woman. A woman with smooth, soft skin and shiny dark hair, and eyelashes so long that they spilled over her defined cheekbones. She was beautiful, to be certain, almost uncommonly so, but the set of wings attached to her startlingly delicate back brought out a deep sense of both hatred and revulsion into the pit of Yadriel’s stomach.

He should have known this was the work of the Fair Folk. 

“I’ll ruin a hell of a lot more if you don’t let me the fuck out of here,” he snarled lowly, his nostrils flaring as he all but barked at her like a caged dog, like the feral wolf she’d mistakenly assumed she’d caught, the woods belonged to him and him alone, and finding himself ensnared on behalf of a goddamned pixie sprite? He could have killed her. “Pis kadın,” he spat in a mixture of both anger and pain, the fire in his eyes darkening to a fierce smolder as the sharp metal teeth dug further into the taut, muscled plane of his abdomen. “Get me out of here—you’ll regret it if you don’t.” 

-

Andromeda was stunned silent, mouth falling open in offense as her eyebrows knitted together. The audacity of the man. She stepped forward till her nose was but a few inches away from the metal trap. Well, at least now she knew it worked. “You have some nerve to threaten me. You’re the one in the cage!” She pointed out, an unfamiliar heat prickling at the back of her neck. 

Now that she was closer, though, she realized just how big of a problem he was. Big being an apt description. He was an impressive creature, broad and tall... and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to look at him, to observe him in his wildness and fire. She rested a hand against the metal of the cage and for what seemed like a split second, their eyes met. Truly. Deeply. She saw the flecks of amber and gold in them, like sparks from a flint. 

Her heart skipped and almost immediately she had to look away, all of a sudden breathless. Odd. 

She gave herself a moment to reel herself back in, expression suddenly quizzical, for she did not understand the sudden shift, so minute she could have just forgotten about it... but couldn’t... before the man continued to thrash, causing the spikes to tighten even further at the movement. 

“Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” She yelled, suddenly snapping back to reality. She grasped at the bars of the cage and suddenly a wave of desperation to get him out washed over her. “Listen here you oaf of a man, if you don’t calm the fuck down this trap will tear you to ribbons!” Without another thought, just as foolishly as it was to stick a hand into a lion’s cage, she reached out and rested her own against his shoulder to steady him, a fire... one of determination and unyielding stubbornness sparking to life in her eyes.

“Calm yourself and let me help you!”