#bhinfic

The training ring smelled of oil and iron, but the glow of the late afternoon sun was accompanied by the faint dusting of vanilla as (Y/N) stood across from Azriel. The scrap of cloth she used to tie her hair into a braid fluttered slightly in the wind. Her stance was solid; evidence of her time spent with Cassian and the Valkyries nearly every morning. The wooden training dagger in her hand was held in the way Lucien taught her; he’d have to fix that. It was too far from her body, and even though Ruhn had shown her how to take a hit and keep breathing, it left some of her softer spots open to attack. Though he was impressed with how still she was. The kind of steadiness you only get from someone who’s been taught to expect pain and survive it. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, a habit he recently picked up as a way to remind himself to forget the time spent torturing her in that cell.  

“Hand up,” he said, and there was a carefulness in the order, as if he were asking permission rather than giving it. Her brows knitted as she lifted her empty hand. He sighed. He could tell she was tired, and her hold was still not quite right. It couldn’t be helped though; Nyx was a ball of boundless energy and practically demanded the woman’s undivided attention. 

He had to give her credit for the time and dedication she poured into his nephew. The woman wasn’t just simply keeping the young heir occupied with games, but also challenged his mind. He recalled one night she stayed at the River House late into the evening with a small telescope that Lucien had commissioned for her. Azriel could easily recall the minute motions of her hands as she turned dials and adjusted the scope in various directions. Nyx’ eyes wide with awe as she explained differences between the types of stars. If Azriel was honest, he was in equal awe of how she was able to convey the complex information into a manageable understanding for a child. Her kindness, patience, and intelligence merited equal treatment.    

“May I?” Azriel approached her slowly, hands pausing midair to gauge her comfort. With a slight nod of her head, he gently lifted her hand, placing it an inch higher on the hilt. He then guided her elbow, bending it to the slightest degree. The small corrections were not meant to flatten her rhythm but to make it cleaner. 

“Oh.” Her voice was soft, eyes lingering on his movements. It was only then he realized that he hadn’t worn the gloves Elain had gifted him a few solstices ago. He waited for her reaction, but it was as if she was already used to them. He then waited for his own shame to flood his senses as it so often did in regards to the burn scars; but it never came. He only felt the sting of memory from that cell. He looked towards her face to ensure his touch wasn’t setting off alarms within her. The setting sun shone fully on her, the soft glow revealing no trace of fear or discomfort in her expression. He had to bite the inside of his cheek again. She was beautiful, determined in learning this new skill. He was surprised when she asked him for pointers in wielding the dagger Lucien gave her as an early Winter Solstice gift. For so long it seemed that Azriel would be the only one to initiate contact, but this time, she sought him out. 

Azriel supposed it was an improvement, even if it was for practical reasons and not a more personal one. He didn’t know why that simple fact bothered him. Stepping back, he looked over her form once more. Once satisfied, he walked over to his side of the ring and picked up his own training dagger. 

“Let’s begin.” He kept his voice soft, softer than he would have if anyone else was around. He wondered if she even noticed. With a small nod of recognition, Azriel launched forward. She answered him with practiced motions; when he feinted, she didn’t freeze in surprise but slid into the gap with an accuracy that pleased and unsettled him in equal measure.

He pressed harder than he intended, testing timing and reach, watching for the moment a strike might truly land. She parried, stepped, and turned. They clipped wood on wood until, with a fluid shift of weight and a hook of the wrist, she pinned his blade to his chest. The contact was small and precise, the kind of thing Cassian would grin about later. Azriel felt it differently; a hot, immediate awareness that she could close a space he’d always kept for himself.

He moved to unbalance her, but his reflexes were a fraction too strong. She flailed, body falling towards the ground. He lunged, attempting to catch her but had failed to actually move his feet with the rest of his body, causing him to fall as well. His chest landed across hers; wood clattered away. For a second the ring dissolved into the narrow geography of their bodies.

Heat flared where his torso met hers, immediate and confusing. The faint salty scent of sweat at her temple mixed with the soft notes of vanilla that wafted upwards. The scent finding a home deep within his being. Her breath came up in a sharp, surprised hitch that pressed into his collarbone. His wings tightened against the expenses of his back like an animal pulled taut. His emotions swirled— guilt mixed with a shimmer of excitement. He found himself wanting to reach out, to brush the strand of hair that loosened from her braid. But he kept this confusing desire to himself as the vivid memories of hands that had hurt too willingly, of screams that still vibrated through his chest rose to the surface. The taste of metal filled his mouth as he bit down on his cheek again. He had practiced restraint until restraint became a habit. Yet the presence of her beneath him rewrote small rules he had thought were permanent.

He forced himself to feel the cold stone beneath his palm as it splayed to the ground just above her shoulder. His other hand curved over her waist as his arm cradled her back. The warmth of her skin traveled deep into his palm, spreading throughout his entire being. The sensation lingered in a way his thoughts struggled to name apart from a curious, relentless pull that tightened his throat and slowed his breath.

Azriel didn’t move immediately. There was a slowness to the world around them, the torches a distant hum. He could hear his pulse in his ears, not loud but relentless, keeping time with the tiny miniature huffs of her breath beneath him. When she exhaled, the air between them tasted faintly of iron and vanilla and something softer, more earthy, he hadn’t catalogued before.

Eventually, he carefully shifted his weight so he could roll clear without jostling her. As he retracted his arm from underneath her his fingers brushed her skin, as if letting go might tear the fragile moment into pieces. He sat back on his heels and took in the sight of her—dust on one sleeve, hair loosened at the nape, cheeks flushing from impact and exertion. 

“You… okay?” he asked, voice considerably small for the space between them.

“Fine,” she said, but the word was too clipped. She pushed to her knees and then to her feet, hands finding the braid at the base of her skull as if steadying herself both physically and somehow inwardly. Azriel watched that motion like a male watching a tide before he followed suit, rising to his feet as well. 

He waited, the line between them electric and patient. His fingers twitched at his sides, a flutter of desire at the idea of lingering and creating something tender. But that same resurfacing memory pinned him. His touch had only ever been used as a tool and a weapon; wringing the truth from enemies and traitors. But now those same hands remembered the shape of her curves and wanted to learn more: the bend of her neck, the hollow just below her collarbone, the small indent where a strap cut into skin.

When he finally moved forward it was with the softest of intentions. He swept a finger across the dust on her forearm as if the motion were a correction to the world and not an excuse to feel her skin again. The touch was tiny, deliberate; the heat that came back into his own fingertips stayed with him. She didn’t jerk away. She met his gaze—their eyes locking in a way that was less about challenge and more about recognition—and for the first time he allowed himself to notice the way her pupils adjusted to the torchlight as it flared to life around the ring and the way her lashes shadowed the high plane of her cheek.

“Careful,” she said, voice low. “Someone may think that you’re falling for me”. He looked at her mouth, at the small line that appeared when she smiled. He felt something like a fissure open in his chest. A hundred tiny thoughts rose and fell inside him—the memory of pain he had inflicted, the apologies he expressed, the growing number of instances where he found himself admiring her classic beauty—each one checked by a more stubborn impulse: Protect. The rest of the ring felt distant; the only rhythm that mattered was the slow return of her breath and the pulse at his wrist where their bodies had touched. 

“Get it? Because we fell…” She couldn’t hold back her laughter, the melodic sound breaking the tension. They resumed training because the world required motion after stillness, but the edges had shifted. His strikes were gentler; where he had once pushed to find a weakness he now sought to test and teach. The small changes were almost invisible but they accumulated—a softer feint, a hand that steadied rather than shoved, a look that asked permission without words. Each act piled upon the last until he was able to push the rising attraction aside and convince himself that his actions were merely fueled by the never ending guilt he felt. 

Later, when the torches were guttering and the ring cooled, he returned the wooden blades to their place among the various training weapons. Azriel returned to her side, arms stretched out in their usual way to carry her back to the townhouse. Her arms wrapped around his neck and the vanilla scent rose again. He inhaled without thinking, the smell lodging in him like a place-name. 

The flight was quick and silent, but she still murmured a goodnight as she entered what had become her home. Azriel supposed that was one of the nicer things his brother had done for the woman. He lifted himself back into the dark sky above, the outline of her still present in the low ache under his ribs.

As soon as you entered the townhouse you had received an invitation to meet Feyre at the River House. By the time you reached the entry gate, your pulse had finally begun to settle. The cold night air had done little to cool the warmth still lingering beneath your skin. Heat from exertion, from embarrassment, from something you refused to examine too closely. Azriel had flown off without a word after dropping you off, and you told yourself that was normal and that you didn’t care.

The front door clicked softly behind you as you stepped inside, letting the warmth of the sitting room wash over you. Feyre looked up from her place on the floor and smiled, the kind that made the world feel steadier.

“Perfect timing,” she said. “We were just talking about Nyx’s birthday.” She gestured for you to take a seat and you almost startled when you saw Mor and Elain were also present. 

The sitting room of the River House was warm with lamplight, the Sidra’s glow faint beyond the windows. A tray of tea sat between you and the three Fae females, steam curling in soft ribbons. Feyre sat on the floor, her back to the fireplace, as she examined the parchment spread across a low coffee table with sketches of balloons, cakes, and the layout of the back and front gardens. Mor lounged with her usual glass of wine against the arm of a divan, one leg tucked under her while Elain sat on the floor opposite of Feyre, a basket of seed packets at her side. Her hands kept busy placing the seeds into seedling planters. You found yourself on the lone high backed cloth chair, eyes scanning over Nyx’s latest drawing — a crooked star with eight points-Feyre handed to you as you sat. 

Feyre sighed, tapping the parchment. “Six years. I can hardly believe it.” You nodded slowly, carefully folding the drawing and placing it in the pocket of your cardigan. The knitted bouclé sweater hugged you with a velour like softness making you feel perfectly content to fall asleep right there next to the warmth of the small fire. Your eyes traveled and fixed themselves on the flames licking up towards the lintel and flue. Their dancing movement was mesmerizing, making you only vaguely aware of the High Lady’s discussion with her sister about the preparations for the little one’s spring birthday. 

“We can fill the garden with lanterns, paper stars perhaps?” Elain leaned forward, her voice gentle. “I’m sure I can find colored paper or light fabric to complement the flowers that should be in bloom by then. It will definitely add a touch more brightness to the festivities.” Her hands continued to insert what appeared to be marigold seeds into the planters if the label on the packets were accurate. 

Feyre nodded along, her sketch pencil quickly marking the designated spots on her rendering of the back garden. “How many other children should we be expecting?”  

Feyre’s question hung in the air for a moment, and you found yourself tracing the rim of your teacup before answering. “I think… maybe a dozen? Nyx has more friends than he realizes. He’s very charming.”

Mor smiled. “He gets that from me.” You chuckled as Feyre lightly shook her head. 

Elain smiled softly, though her eyes flicked toward you with a kind of gentle curiosity. “And from you,” she added. “He adores you.”

Heat crept up your neck. “He just likes that I let him stay up past bedtime from time to time.”

“That’s not why,” Elain murmured, arranging another seedling. “Children know when someone sees them. Really sees them.” There was something in her tone—something knowing—that made your breath catch. Elain’s gaze lingered on you a heartbeat longer before she returned to her work.

Mor stretched her legs out. “Speaking of being seen… I heard Azriel’s been training you more often.”

Your head snapped up. “Only because Cassian’s been busy with the Illyrians and Ruhn is currently back in Midgard helping his friend in locating some information about that damn prophecy.”

“Mhm,” Mor hummed, unconvinced. “Well that hasn’t stopped Lucien from hovering like a mother hen.”

Elain’s hands paused over the soil. She didn’t look up, but her voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Lucien worries, he always has. It’s how he shows he cares.” Your eyes flickered over to the middle Archeron sister, catching the swivel of both Feyre and Mor’s heads. You had to prevent your jaw from dropping at the comment. That was perhaps the first positive thing that Elain had ever made towards her mate. A pressure in your chest flared at the thought that she may finally be opening up to their bond. 

Swallowing, you changed the subject of conversation.  “Azriel clearly cares enough as well?” You couldn’t stop the words from sounding more like a question than the confident statement you hoped. 

Elain finally lifted her eyes. There was no judgment in them, only a soft, perceptive sadness. “Azriel protects what he fears losing.” The room went still for a breath. Not heavy, just… honest.

Feyre cleared her throat, tapping her pencil against the parchment. “Alright, back to the lanterns. I refuse to let Nyx’s birthday be overshadowed by the Hewn City’s theatrics.”

The moment passed like a ripple across still water, but its echo stayed with you. Your fingers tightened around the folded star drawing in your pocket. Nyx’s crooked lines made you smile — but mention of the Hewn City tugged at something colder. You had never seen the court itself, only the catacombs beneath it… and even those memories were more sensation than image. Stone. Damp air. Footsteps that never belonged to you.

You’d heard stories, of course — shadows and jewels, cruelty wrapped in silk — but the truth of it lived somewhere beyond your reach. Mor must have caught the flicker of unease across your face. She straightened, wine glass dangling from her fingers.

Mor leaned forward, voice conspiratorial. “Alright, since (Y/N) hasn’t had the joy of a Hewn City ‘celebration,’ let me give you the basics. Expect pomp. Expect posturing. Everyone will be dressed to intimidate, dripping in jewels and shadows. The speeches will be long, the silences longer, and every noble will try to look like they’re the one pulling the strings. It’s theater, really.”

“And we’re putting a six‑year‑old in the middle of it?” You felt fear and trepidation raise within you as Feyre sighed, rubbing her temple.

“Yes, but-and I can’t believe I agree with my cousin- he needs to be exposed to that darkness at some point.” Mor sighed. “The Hewn City is still part of the Night Court. Nyx will be announced as heir, and that’s not something they can sneer away. He’ll be the star, whether they like it or not.”

You shifted in your seat, the awareness of the greater purpose Nyx would grow to fulfill. Nyx, just like everyone else, had a purpose. You tried to keep the despair from settling in your chest. The three females before you belonged here in ways you never could. They knew the customs, dangers, and expectations that made up the Hewn City. You only knew the shadows beneath it. “What about…what else should I expect?” you asked, voice softer than you intended. 

Elain dusted soil from her hands, her brow creasing. “Well...the Hewn City isn’t exactly forgiving.” 

Mor snorted. “Understatement of the century.” 

Elain’s lips curved in a small, apologetic smile. “But what little I do know is that presentation is everything there. So… we should probably think about what you should wear.” Elain perked up, eyes brightening with a kind of hopeful creativity. “Maybe we can find a balance. The pitch‑black attire made me feel so… swallowed. Neither you nor Nyx should feel that way. So, deep blues and purples, maybe with some silver accents. Colors that remind him of the sky he loves.”

Her gaze flicked to you, soft and earnest, as if she were offering you a way to breathe in a place built to suffocate.

Mor stretched her legs out, smirking. “Sounds like Elain has this covered. Which is good, because I’ll be in Vallahan again.”  She winked at you. “One additional thing I will suggest is that you'll need something practical. Something you can move in if he bolts for the dais, but also something that lets you hide a weapon.”

You blinked. “A weapon?”

“This isn’t the place to be unprepared and look uncertain.” Mor’s expression sobered. “Or unaligned. I heard about Helion’s stylistic choice at that meeting…” Her voice trailed off. “This isn’t the setting to have your allegiance be considered ambiguous. You are one of us and need to look the part.” Her words felt more like punches to your gut than reassurance of your place among them. Even if others in Rhysand’s inner circle considered you as one of their own, there was one major difference that was never mentioned out loud. 

Feyre smiled and placed a hand on your knee, easing the tension. “I’ll commission something for you. Midnight silk, perhaps, or a deep royal purple. It’ll have a lighter lining of course so you don’t roast under the Hewn City torches.”

“You should add pockets, too.” Elain chimed in. “Nyx will think it’s magic when you pull out sweets.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That little one does love to sneak food.” You looked at them, the three females who all had neatly carved places in this court and felt the weight of your own difference. 

Feyre reached further up and gently clasped the wrist of the hand holding your teacup, her hand warm over your skin. “You will be fine. You’ll walk in with the rest of us, and Ruhn will be right there with you. No one would dare harm you even if you are the only human in the room.” You recognized she meant well, but your safety hadn’t been the concern pressing against your heart, at least not until she reminded you.  Feyre’s eyes softened. “He’ll remember the party more than the ceremony anyway. This will be the day he feels loved, not just announced.”

The conversation drifted on — lanterns, sweets, music — the kind of easy planning that made the River House feel like a living heartbeat. You let yourself sink into it for a little while, warmed by the fire and the soft cadence of their voices. But eventually the hour grew late, and the others began to rise, stretching and gathering their things. Feyre squeezed your hand once more before you left, her smile warm and certain.

Outside, the cold night air met you like a wall. The River House glowed behind you, full of laughter and light, but the path home stretched long and quiet. You pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and started the walk back, each step carrying you farther from the warmth and deeper into the familiar hush of your own thoughts.

After the long trek through the frost covered cobblestone road, you found yourself standing alone in the foyer of the townhouse. The lanterns burning low cast long shadows across the floorboards, and the silence settled around you like a second skin. You took a slow and steady breath, but the air felt too thick. The townhouse always felt suffocatingly empty without Ruhn. 

Two days prior he traveled back to Midgard with Bryce and Hunt for the upcoming Winter Solstice. While he stated that he hated to leave you, you didn’t want him to miss any spare time he could have with his friends. A pain that was now an old friend to you. After six years living in this world; six holiday seasons away from every single person you had loved…It was only expected that bitter loneliness would be the only companion you were granted. A deep ugly part of you felt the hurt and anger rise up your throat like bile because no one seemed to care that you also held the Winter Solstice as a sacred day. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as you tried to ignore the lack of any decorations within the townhouse. 

The River House and even the House of Wind had no shortage of yuletide cheer. Wreaths and garland made of real evergreen leaves, strings of faelights wrapped around the banister of the main staircase, and glass ornaments from various artisans on the Rainbow hung in the windows displaying miniature scenes of memories shared throughout the year. How many of those ornaments would they all accumulate over the years? No, not just years…centuries. 

You choke back a sob as the familiar ache beneath your ribs pulls taught. Hot tears slip down your cheeks faster than you anticipated. It seemed that each year the pain of remembering just how utterly human you were became worse and worse. And despite their efforts, despite Feyre and her sisters once being human, despite Bryce being half-human…none of them would ever understand just how much all of this fucked with your head. 

You were the only mortal in this world of beings who will no doubt outlive mountains, whose histories would be studied in books simultaneously with their day to day lives. Compared to them you would be a small blip-a footnote really- in those very books. Almost like a smudge on one of Feyre’s paintings; something that doesn’t quite belong in the composition, no matter how carefully you try to blend the edges into the surrounding lines and shapes around it. It didn’t matter that you lived alongside them, laughed with them, planned parties and ceremonies with them; beneath it all that the quiet persistent truth never loosened its grip.

You will age. They will not.

You will fade. They will remain.

You will be forgotten, but your life will end before you ever forget them.  

You love them. Gods, you do; but that didn’t alter the facts that at the end of the day, you were not one of them. It took all of your strength to make yourself move, removing the layers of cold winter clothing. Tears still flowing in silent rivers down your full rounded cheeks. A fire roared to life in the hearth of the small parlor to the right of the foyer. You thought of Nyx — bright, wild, star‑touched Nyx — and how he so often clings to your legs as if you’re the only steady thing in his world. You remember how he laughs when you chase him through the garden, how he curls against your side during naps, how he trusts you without hesitation.

Your mind drifted to the future, his future. The one where he grows tall and strong and powerful, while you… don’t. A knot formed in your throat. What use would be to them then? When you could no longer be a caregiver to the small fae. You pressed your palms together, grounding yourself, but the thought still comes. What if one day he looks at you and realizes you’re breakable? What if he realizes you’re temporary?

The others don’t treat you that way, not intentionally, but sometimes you still caught the flicker of worry in their eyes when you get hurt. On other occasions you could swear you heard the softness in their voices as they said your name. As if you’re something fragile they’re afraid to drop. Sometimes… sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if they’re right.

The cold truth curled in your chest as you walked into the parlor. You’re human, mortal, and no matter how much they care for you, no matter how deeply you carve yourself into their lives, you will always be the one who leaves first. You sank onto the small sofa facing the fire, letting the heat lick at your chilled skin. Sadly, it didn’t reach the hollow in your chest. Nothing had felt right since that meeting of the High Lords. Not since the prophecy had been spoken aloud and the room had turned toward you like you were a riddle carved in bone. 

You pressed your palms to your eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they kept coming: hot, relentless, and humiliating. You hated crying alone. You hated crying entirely, but the silence of the townhouse swallowed every sound you made, and somehow that made it worse.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, minutes or hours, before a soft knock broke through the quiet. Your breath caught as your limbs froze. No one within ever knocked, they always just walked right in. Another gentle and hesitant knock echoed through the front of the home.

You wiped your face with trembling fingers and forced yourself to twist around towards the picture window. Lifting the curtain slightly you saw Lucien standing on the stone steps, head tilted back as snow dusted his hair and shoulders. You noted a small leather-wrapped object in his hand. You knocked on the window and waved for him to enter. 

The townhouse door yielded to him, recognizing him as one of the few allowed inside, and he placed his coat and boots near the entrance. Once inside the parlor where you sat, his russet eye flicked over your face, and something in his expression tightened. A subtle, quiet shift you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already unraveling.

“You’ve been crying.” His voice was soft as he crossed the room stopping less than a foot away from the couch. Out of the corner of your eye you watched him as he clearly debated on comforting you. The brief hesitation pulled something at your sternum, but didn’t diminish the fact his presence warmed the air like a hearth newly stoked. Finally, he sat himself down next to you and placed his arm along the back of the couch. It was enough of an indicator that you were more than welcome to lean on him if you so chose. And, of course, you did just that. You scooted yourself one seat over and curled into his side, his arm coming down to rest on your arm to cradle your figure. For a long moment neither of you spoke. You realized that Lucien would be perfectly content to just sit there with you the remainder of the night if you didn’t speak up. 

“Lucien?” Your voice cracked. “What are you doing here?” The male opened his mouth, closed it, and then reached into the pocket of his trousers. 

“I… finished this,” he said, clearing his throat. “For your dagger.” Without removing his arm from your side, he carefully unfolded the beautifully crafted sheath made of dark leather. “Azriel informed me that you asked to train with him earlier tonight. I thought that you should have this before your next session.” 

You blinked at it and then tilted your head to look up at him. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he would only show up for a practical reason. “That doesn’t exactly answer my question. You could have given that to me tomorrow. So, why tonight?”

“I know.” His jaw flexed. “That was my intention, but…” He stopped, eyes flicking up towards the hearth, then back to your face. His voice softened, losing its practiced steadiness. “Truth is I was worried. I didn’t get much of an opportunity to speak with you after the meeting,” he said quietly. “You left with Ruhn before I could… before I could make sure you were alright.”

“You always worry,” you whispered, a half smile on your expression as you thought of Elain’s words, not sure if it was a complaint or a comfort. You placed your head back on his shoulder. “But it is appreciated.” 

“I should have checked in on you sooner.” His voice was soft, careful. “It wasn’t like I haven’t had the opportunity to do so. I-I kept telling myself you were fine, that you had Ruhn, that you didn’t need me hovering, but…I still should have come.”

You shook your head. “You had enough to deal with. Besides, you saw me when you gave me the dagger.”

“(Y/N),” His voice took on a slight edge, “Please don’t make excuses on my behalf. I saw the way you held yourself together in the meeting, and the fear in your eyes afterward. I should have checked on you then.” The words hit you harder than you expected. You stared at the fire, blinking against the sting in your eyes. 

“I’m fine, really.” You swallowed, hardly believing your own words. Truth was you were not fine in the slightest. You were barely holding it together as thoughts constantly replayed variations of that meeting and spiraled in trying to make sense of what everything meant. 

“You do not have to pretend with me,” He murmured, resting his head on top of yours. As if he instinctually knew what you needed in that moment his arms wrapped around you. “And you don’t have to do any of this alone.” You looked up at him, at the concern etched into his features, at the way he seemed to be holding himself together like he was afraid his words were too bold. Your throat tightened.

“I just… I don’t…” Your voice cracked and trembled. Lucien’s thumb slowly rubbed along your arm as he held you. “My heart is breaking, Lu. There is just so…much. I don’t even know where to begin to process. This prophecy brings so much into question. I…I just…” He shushed you gently, turning his head and placing a chaste kiss to your brow. 

“We don’t need to figure out any of that just yet,” His voice was soft. “We have plenty of time.” How you wished that were true. Time was the one thing that you did not have. 

“Lu…we don’t-”

“No…I know,” He pressed another kiss to your brow. “But let’s not think about that right now okay, love? It doesn’t change the fact that we want you around and that you improve all of our lives.” An invisible weight yanked at your sternum and your heart fractured even further. Breath caught in your throat as you attempted to hold back the sob that desperately wanted to make itself known. A fresh wave of hot tears resumed streaming down their paths on your cheeks. His intrinsic understanding of your thoughts and feelings never ceased to amaze you, and you were grateful that you didn’t need to speak any of that outloud. Despite yourself, you were glad that you weren’t the only one to recognize your impermanence in this world. Though, that didn’t stop the pain and tears that were going to be shed. Perhaps it was that knowledge that broke you as you continued to sob into his tunic. His warm hands rubbed along your back, soothing and reaffirming his solid presence in your life.

“Do you want me to stay?” His voice was so faint you weren’t sure you heard it. “I know we-”

“Please,” You whispered back. “I… the tonic wouldn’t be a good idea tonight. I don’t want to numb this. But I also… I don't want to be alone.” 

“Of course, love.” Slowly he lowered his arms, standing and reaching out to help you up. The walk to your room was silent, Lucien’s hand laced with yours. Neither of you bothered to change or even get under the covers. Instead, you both laid atop the plush duvet, his warmth steadying you as you quickly drifted off to sleep. 

Lucien woke before dawn. It had become second nature after years of sleeping lightly; of listening for danger and never quite trusting the world to leave him in peace. However, this morning the first thing he registered wasn’t danger, but a warm and soft weight against his side. The faint scent of vanilla and amber filled his senses. It was soon accompanied by the memory of her tears soaking into the fabric of his tunic and the way her fingers had curled into his sleeve, as if anchoring herself to the world.

He exhaled slowly, careful not to disturb her as she slept. Her form curled toward him as she continued to breathe steadily, her face relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen in ages. Lucien dared not allow himself to believe that her serenity had anything to do with him. He knew he should move; should put distance between them before she woke, but he couldn’t get his limbs to comply with what was proper for a mated male. Not when some even deeper instinct urged him to hold her closer and warned him that if he let go too soon the world would somehow shatter. 

His golden eye whirred softly as it adjusted to the low light, tracing the curve of her cheek, as she nuzzled closer towards the crook between his neck and shoulder. She’d cried herself into exhaustion. And he’d held her until her breathing evened out and her trembling stopped, the weight of her grief finally easing enough for rest to finally take hold.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep beside her. He only meant to stay until she was well and truly asleep and then return to his own apartment in the city. But when she had whispered please, something in him had cracked open. Something he’d been holding shut for months, maybe even years.

Lucien swallowed as her breath fanned against his skin, the soft warmth racing down his body straight to his cock. He shouldn’t have stayed. He shouldn’t have let himself feel this. He shouldn’t have let her lean on him like that, not when she was so vulnerable, and definitely not when he was… whatever he was.

He closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his free hand to his brow. He cared for her. Much more than he should or had any right to.

And yet…He’d do it again. He’d always be there for her; through every spiral, every fear, every tear. He’d hold her through every storm for as long as she’d asked him to. Even if it broke him; especially if it broke him.

She shifted slightly, her hand brushing his ribs. Lucien froze, breath caught in his throat. But she didn’t wake, her body seeking warmth and pressing closer to him. His heart clenched.

He needed to leave before she opened her eyes and saw him like this; unguarded and absolutely aching for her. He also didn’t want to give her the chance to apologize for needing him; to thank him in that quiet voice that made him want things he shouldn’t want. 

Carefully, painfully, he eased himself out from beneath her grounding weight. Soft incoherent words murmured into the quiet of the room, her brow creasing, and he paused, hand hovering over her shoulder.

“Shh,” he whispered, barely audible. “You’re safe, love.” Her expression smoothed and she settled once again. Lucien stood and took to the throw blanket from the chair near the window and placed it over her. He lingered for one heartbeat too long, then forced himself to step back.

Silently, he left the room and headed down stairs where he saw the dagger sheath was still sitting on the couch in the parlor. Silently he tugged his boots back on and prepared to exit, only pausing to glance back toward the stairs. He hoped today would be easier for her. That she’d find peace and never need to cry like that again.

He hoped—

Lucien stopped himself from finishing that dangerous thought and instead stepped out into the cold morning air, letting the front door of the townhouse close softly behind him. 

Days later your heart thundered in your chest as you raced through the River House. You only had a marginal head start. Rounding your way around the kitchen counter you skidded to a stop, swinging your head left, right, and left again. The coast was clear. You took off in a mad dash for the front door. Bursting through the swinging door that led to the main entryway from the kitchen, you careened and wound your way through the main hall. You narrowly avoided running into a large round table in the center of the foyer, its surface littered with flowers of all colors in small paper planters. Likely left behind by Elain before she and Azriel left for their shopping trip. Finally reaching your goal, you thudded against the solid wood door, wrenching it open as fast as you could. Before you could make it two steps out the door you ran directly into a warm broad chest. An equally warm pair of hands kept you upright as they rested on your waist.

“Whoa there, what’s the rush?” You were greeted by Lucien’s surprised chuckle. A smile found its way across your lips. You opened your mouth, only to be interrupted by a high-pitched squeal.

“I found you!” The bright chirp of Nyx followed you out of the heavy oak doorway. You let out your own squeal as you shoved the grown male between yourself and the six-year-old child of night.

“Lucien’s neutral territory,” You giggle, “I’m safe!” You wrapped your arms tightly around his middle, not caring about the fact that he went utterly still at your touch. However, your wish to find sanctuary was not going to be fulfilled.

“No, he’s not,” You felt the force of which Nyx slammed into Lucien’s shins, “Because he’s it!”

“That’s not fair,” Your arms dropped from the male’s waist, and you immediately backed away, matching the child’s fit of giggles.

 “No tag backs Uncle Lu!” Nyx shouted gleefully, letting go of his own hold on the older Fae’s legs.

“What is happening?” Lucien’s crimson hair shifted as he whipped his head between the two of you, a smirk gracing his features.

“You have to chase (Y/N)!” Nyx exclaimed. You watched as a gleam appeared in the male’s russet eye, the golden one whirring alongside it.

“N-now Lucien…w-we can talk about this,” You continued to slowly back away, “We’re both adults here…” You knew you were in trouble as soon as his grin reached his eyes.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” You swallowed as he took a predatory step towards you, “I believe you heard the little Lord; I must give chase.” He took another step towards you, eyes bright with the infectious mischief you and Nyx found yourselves in daily.

“Shit.” Without a second thought you took off in a run, your slipper clad feet nearly sliding out from under you as you made your way along the side of the large house. The only sound that clued you into Lucien following was Nyx’s squeal of excitement. You ducked around a tree, the male hot on your heels. You made to sprint away again, but the grass was too slick from the moisture of the nearby riverbank. Tendrils of the mists from its shores spilled into the backyard.

“Fuck this.” You kicked your flats off and began to run away again, your feet finally finding some purchase in the dirt. If only it were enough to allow you to outrun the High Fae male. Sadly, Lucien gained on you quickly. You already knew that he wasn’t chasing you at his full speed, to which you were grateful as it would just be embarrassing if he caught you too quickly. 

You spied Nyx’s dark black hair out of the corner of your eye, which clued you into the fact that he was going to attempt to help his “Uncle” in some way. No sooner had the realization crossed your mind did the child dart across your path, causing you to stumble to avoid what would have been a painful collision. The child’s ploy was sufficient in getting you to pause long enough for Lucien to catch you. His arms wrapped around your middle in a bear hug, Nyx cheering him on.

“That is cheating!” You scolded Nyx, but a smile remained stretched on your features, “No helping the enemy.” The deep rumbling laugh vibrated from Lucien’s chest against your back. His hands lowered to your wide hips and his nose nuzzled against the back of your ear. His breath fanned against the hairs on the back of your neck caused a shiver to course through you. It seemed as if the asshole was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you.

“No helping the enemy?” His whisper was so low that only you could hear, “What about sleeping with the enemy?” You felt your face instantly heat up as Lucien’s hands squeezed the soft flesh of your hips. Your jaw dropped and you whipped your head around. His grin was the perfect picture of smugness, like a cat that caught a canary.

“Lucien!” It was clear that he was proud of the scandalized reaction he could elicit from you. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I’m joking (Y/N),” He chuckled, but his hands remained firmly planted on you. “Speaking of, there is something that we need to discuss. Come to my place tonight?” You pretended to think over the invitation. It had been too long since you and Lucien had any time just to yourselves. Well, that’s if you weren’t counting his overnight visit a few days prior. Before you had the opportunity to respond, Nyx ran up towards you, purple eyes sparkling bright. Lucien released his hold from around your waist, and you took the opportunity to immediately tag him back. 

“No tag backs!” You skipped away in a sing-song voice. The auburn haired male rolled his eyes before turning and chasing after Nyx. 

The laughter from the lawn carried up through the air. Nyx’s delighted shrieks echoed as he darted between shadows, barely evading Lucien. However, the grown male gained on him quickly as the child attempted to hide amongst the hedges, his wings flashing along their tops in the sunlight. Lucien’s long strides closed in behind him before picking him up and spinning him around. You were already breathless from the chase, the grass cool beneath your bare feet as you pivoted sharply to avoid Nyx’s outstretched hand as Lucien carried him while chasing after you.

“Too slow!” You called over your shoulder, grinning as Nyx squealed in delight.

The game continued almost unfairly, as both males were much faster. Running with all your might, forearms up and pressed against your breasts in an attempt to run more comfortably, you spot Elain and Azriel out of the corner of your eye as they walk through the small gate leading to the back garden. The Shadowsinger’s dark wings caught the light like oil over steel.

Something in you stirred before you could stop it. Maybe it was the rare warmth in his eyes, or maybe the tug of some reckless impulse which the years of being out of that dark cell allowed your body to build up once more, but you ran right up to where he stood. “Fly me up?” You asked, pointing towards the roof three stories above. 

Azriel blinked, surprised, and you had to suppress your grin. “You want me to—”

“Up there.” You clarified, before your brain could protest, voice sounding steadier than you felt. The dark slate roof gleamed in the mid-afternoon winter sun. “Out of Nyx’s reach. Just for a moment! He’ll just catch me again! Please?”

A small, incredulous smile flickered across his mouth. “All right.” He stepped close, arms outstretched and waiting for you to literally jump onto him in what he often refers to as your “Kola hug”.  Just as sure as your voice was, your body doesn’t hesitate. Arms and legs wrapping around his shoulders and torso before he lifts you both into the air. The warmth of him, and a faint scent of cedar, steals the breath right out of you…almost like Ruhn… almost. Before you can think, the ground is gone. The air sharp and cool as his wings beat once, twice, lifting you above the glittering river below. 

“That’s cheating!” the small Illyrian Fae shouts, his high pitch tone meeting your ears as it's carried by the wind.

“You cheated first!” You called back, head poking up from over Azriel’s shoulder. You winced, having realized that you practically yelled directly against his ear. However, the male only chuckled slightly in response. You couldn’t help the flash of pride in your chest at getting him to break that stoic facade twice in the span of just a few moments.  

Clinging to Azriel, the world fell away in a rush of color and sound. The laughter below became distant, and for one brief suspended moment you felt free. Azriel landed lightly on the roof’s peak, allowing you just enough space to lower your legs and stand on the edge to look at the garden below. The dark stone tiles were pleasantly warm beneath your bare feet. Something that would have been unheard of where you lived with the near constant shining sun. Walking around any artificial surface outdoors, even in the spring, was completely unheard of in your hometown. But you couldn’t deny how breathtaking the view was. The sun shining above the bluest sky, the Sidra flowing silver below. A laugh, wind-tossed and dizzy with wonder, escaped you. 

“This is incredible,” Your eyes scanned over the horizon as you held on to the chimney, bare foot slipping a fraction as you turned to look towards the House of Wind in the distance.

“Careful,” Azriel warned softly. You chanced a quick glance at him, his mouth curving as if your joy had undone something in him. From below your position at the chimney you hear the quick, determined beats of smaller wings. Nyx.

You scoot yourself around the staff of the chimney, hand splayed against the brick to maintain your balance, and craned your neck over the edge to see him climbing fast through the air. His tiny body luminous with power and pride, his laughter bright and wild. 

“(Y/N)!” he calls. “I’m coming!” Nyx’s wing beats are unusually uneven, the shifting of his body clunky, but he continues to make progress. The movement was something that you had not seen from him since he first started flying at 17 months old. You remember overhearing how that was late for an Illyrian. 

“Az?” You carefully turned your head towards the fully grown Illyrian to gauge his expression. Was he seeing the same issue as you? However, the Shadowsinger’s attention was nowhere near you or Nyx. You followed his line of sight to see Lucien slowly approaching Elain. 

The awkward air between them could be felt from the rooftop. Though, not even a minute later, it seemed that whatever exchange of words- words too distant for human ears- were sufficient for her to allow him to lead her away to the flower garden on the side of the house. You felt a soft pang in the dead center of your chest, but forced a smile. It was good to see her actually acknowledge him for once. 

Your attention returned to Nyx as he persisted through his struggles, his wings bringing him higher and higher towards the rooftop. You heard the slight rustle of Azriel’s wings twitching, and something in the air shifts. A ripple of magic, subtle but cruel, snakes its way through your nostrils and coats your tongue with the tang of metal. Nyx’s laughter falters and by some unseen trick of fate, as if ripped from existence his wings, his beautiful wings…were gone.

Everything went still and eerily silent as you stared at Nyx. His already wide eyes now looked like saucers filled with utter terror. 

“No.” You couldn’t tell if the word was even spoken aloud. Rhysand’s son, Feyre’s heart, your little one, began an all too fast descent as gravity yanked him back towards the ground. Your mind had gone completely blank as your body moved entirely on protective instinct. Hard brick sliced your toes as you launched off the roof. You ignored the call of your name on the wind as it tore at your clothes. Your stomach lurched and rolled as your body also succumbed to the forceful pull of the planet. Your glasses dislodged from their perch on your nose, but it didn’t matter. Your gaze never left Nyx. His eyes wide, lips parted in a soundless cry and arms reaching up towards you.

By some miracle you managed to catch him midair, wrapping your arms around him and twisting the both of you around so his tiny body would be shielded from the impact. You had no time to do anything else. No magic to protect yourself or circumvent the inevitable impact of the hungry ground rushing to meet you.

Pain. Sharp as a bolt of lightning pierced your body and instantly the world went dark, but not silent. A cacophony of screams and shouting were muffled by a high pitched wail. You willed your hands to cover your ears, but the muscles didn’t so much as twitch. 

You couldn’t catch your breath as every attempt at an inhale felt like splintered glass. The feeling of pins and needles traveled from your fingertips towards your elbow as numbness took hold. Nyx’ trembling became just as faint as his sobbing. He’s alive. 

“(Y/N)!” Nyx’s voice sounded distant and the warmth of the sun on your face suddenly disappeared. A chill you recognized all too well replaced that warmth. Azriel’s shadows, frantic and cold, swirled around your neck and down the left side of your body. He was close, too close if the alarm bells of your lizard brain senses were any indication. His voice was soft and cracking like he was breaking in ways you’d never heard before. 

“No…fuck…stay…Stay with me. Please.” A soft pressure settled against your forehead. The pain and pressure in your chest dissipated almost immediately. A gloved thumb brushed your brow, or maybe it was bare skin, warm and trembling, and the shadows surged as if trying to knit you back together.

“(Y/N)!” Lucien shouted, his voice sharp and clear in your ears. The pressure and coldness was ripped away from you. Fierce warmth flooded in, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His voice held too many emotions to count as he barked orders to whomever else was present. Pain flared in waves. Echoes of different voices, known and unknown, floated above you. Breathless whispers praised the Mother of your survival from a fall from such a height. Perhaps all the speculation surrounding you was right. A greater power must be looking out for you. Deep within you knew the fall should’ve killed you instantly, but here you were, teetering on the edge of consciousness. You released a silent thanks to the Mother as well. Warmth and coldness filled you simultaneously in what you could only assume was in response. Fatigue was starting to catch up as the adrenaline subsided. The sound of the world around you dwindled until the last thing you heard was Nyx’s soft whisper begging you not to leave. 

Your thoughts slowed as darkness pulled at the edges of your vision. Nyx was alive — that was all that mattered. The pain ebbed, replaced by a weighted tug at your sternum, steady and insistent, as if something ancient refused to let you slip away. The last sensation you felt was warm, trembling hands sliding beneath you, lifting you from the ground with a care that made your chest ache. You let yourself go limp, the world narrowing to warmth, motion, and the faint echo of Nyx’s voice whispering your name like a prayer.

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

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After an extensive discussion on the logistics of teleporting multiple bodies that ended with Hunt walking off in a huff, Bryce and Ruhn briefly returned to the Night Court in order to retrieve Tristan Flynn from Midgard, hoping his private lessons in linguistics from childhood could shed some light on the true nature of the half crumbling scrolls you found. Upon their return, Bryce casually mentioned their brief confrontation with Rhysand. The High Lord, predictably, had a conniption-seething with that quiet, deadly rage-when he found out about their little field trip to the Day Court and bringing yet another off-worlder into his precious City of Starlight. It had been clear that Ruhn and Bryce couldn’t bring themselves to give a single fuck, but Hunt and Lucien were weary of Rhysand’s promise of consequences. 

Flynn proved extremely helpful in translating most of the Latin and even some of the rune passages on the scroll. He took several pictures of the scroll on his phone in order to see if there would be anything similar in the Fae archives in Avallen or Valbara. They already knew it would be too risky for them to make another attempt to sneak into the Asteri’s archives. 

From what he could determine you had been correct in your assumptions. The scroll outlined Alfheim’s original story of creation. Flynn informed that he would need to review his old notes to verify that he was correct in his translations, but so far it appeared that the world had actually been created by seven deities, each representing an aspect of the world. It reminded you of many other world creation stories from your own planet’s history. Each deity was responsible for a specific aspect, which just so happened to coincide with the elements that made up what the Mother used in her Cauldron to create Prythian. 

Your mind wandered back to your time at the symphony with Azriel. The fondness of the memory took you by surprise. You never imagined a time when your mind would have associated Azriel with something positive and enjoyable. There were still moments when his sudden appearance would startle you, but that reaction was now the rarity compared to before. You supposed that was a good thing. A sign you were healing from what could easily be referred to as the worst trauma of your life. It was strange to realize that things had changed so significantly. You supposed that was to be expected after nearly six years. 

Your mind continued to reminisce over the music that had completely captured your heart. That night was without a doubt the most peaceful you had felt around the winged male. You couldn’t help but wonder if that comfort was due to the music…or due to the male himself and reprieve he had provided that night. You hadn’t even realized that you were staring without focusing on the scattered pages in front of you until a hand waved over your face. 

“There she is,” Flynn smiled. “Have a nice day dream, gorgeous?” You saw Bryce roll her eyes. The subtle, yet not so subtle, glare Ruhn gave the male as he left the musty hall did not go unnoticed either. 

“Sorry,” You muttered, hands rubbing over your face. You had spent hours reading and jotting down possible translations for the runic alphabet and the other unknown language.

“No need to apologize,” Flynn continued to smile as he leaned against the long wooden table in the library archives. “I think I got enough pictures of this scroll that Dec and I can begin to look through the archives on Avallen.” He held up his phone, shaking it slightly to emphasize his point.

“Just be careful who else has access to those images, Flynn,” Bryce warned. “The protection your King grants only extends so far.” The trio had filled you in on their latest trip and the bargain she and Ruhn made with the Autumn King. The island of Avallen now fell under their father’s jurisdiction after Bryce killed Ruhn’s uncle Morven. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt about their deal. The Autumn King agreed to cover up the fact that his offspring were travelling back and forth between worlds, and allowed to take Flynn and Declan on as personal research assistants. All Bryce had to do was agree to bring the Autumn King to Prythian once the Asteri were defeated. Only a fool would have said no to that deal. 

“Sure thing sweetheart,” Flynn pocketed his cell phone. “The first goal is to figure out if that mistranslation is accurate. ‘New rains’ just doesn’t make as much sense as ‘new reign’ does.” 

“That’s great,” Your attention was already drifting off again, “Any help in translating is appreciated.” The male nodded and you were vaguely aware of his brown eyes looking you up and down. 

“Your other red-headed friend said he would take me back to that portal.” Flynn continued. “You really do seem to have the males here wrapped around your finger.” 

“Excuse me?” That garnered your attention. Flynn raised his hands in defense. 

“Relax, I meant no harm.” He smiled. “Just noting that he-”

“Lucien,” You interrupted, lips pursed with irritation. 

“Lucien,” Flynn nodded before continuing, “Only volunteered to accompany me because you had asked him to pick something up for you.” You looked up at Flynn from your spot in the chair. 

“What is your point?” You studied him with narrowed eyes. 

“No point really,” He pushed off from the table and began walking towards the main entrance, very likely to meet the very male you were discussing. “Just an interesting observation. Just like it is interesting that my dear friend, Prince Ruhn, would have been equally willing to assist you.” Bryce snorted from across the table and you glared at her. Her saccharine smile only added to your building ire. 

“I suggest you keep your observations to yourself, Flynn,” You stood, turning in the opposite direction and started to walk away. You could practically feel the wide grin radiating off the male as you made your way to the back row of piled scrolls. You heard his retreating footsteps echo through the chamber as he left. 

“He’s not wrong (Y/N),” Bryce’s voice cut through the space. Sighing, you made your way back towards where she still sat. 

“I know,” You plopped down into your seat. “I just…it’s complicated with Ruhn.” Bryce nodded. 

“My brother is an idiot,” She said simply. “He often says shit he doesn’t mean.”

“He called me by another woman’s name, Bryce.” The half-fae groaned at your correction. 

“My point still stands,” She finally set down the pen she held, “He knows he fucked up, and he is trying to do everything in his power to make it up to you.” 

“So, I should just automatically forgive him?” You looked at her incredulously. 

“I’m not saying that,” She sighed. “What I am saying is not to disregard his efforts to apologize.” You opened your mouth to continue your protests when Ruhn entered. 

“Hey, the barge is ready for us,” He called from the entrance of the corridor leading to the larger chambers. “You ladies have everything you need before we set sail to wherever it is we’re going from here?” 

“Just think things over, okay?” Bryce encouraged as she gathered her supplies. You nodded, gathering your own belongings and followed after. 

Two weeks came and went with the preparation and stress of the High Lords’ meeting; what if they weren’t pleased with your presence in their realm? What if they laughed at the idea of such a mythical threat? You wiped your sweaty hands on the incredibly intricate gown Helion had specifically designed for you. Layers upon layers of pale chiffon. The pinks, purples, and peach tones created an ombre that almost resembled light of the setting sun. This was enhanced by the glittering beads along the hem that literally glowed in the dark. You pulled at the tight bodice and the strap that crossed over your chest to the opposite shoulder. The fit of the dress was like nothing you had worn before. It was gorgeous, but you felt so much like a doll that was being made to look more important than you actually were. 

“Stop fussing,” Lucien said as he braided your hair.

“I can’t help it,” Setting your hands in your lap, you looked up at his reflection in the mirror before you. “Why do I even need braids?”

“Braids are a sign of class and nobility in the Autumn Court.” Lucien’s answer was simple. His fingers quickly and easily parted another small section of your hair into thirds. 

“So, you’re using me as a ‘fuck you’ to your father.” You raised an eyebrow at him. Your eyes watching as he tucked the small braid, he just finished into the larger braid that somehow felt perfectly in line with your spine. 

“You don’t have to put it like that… you deserve these braids.” His focus remained on his task, picking out yet another small section to braid. 

“Why don’t you wear braids then?” He finished tying the braid in place.

“Well, I-”

“It’s time!” Ruhn came in, your eyes meeting through the mirror as the male seemed to lose his breath at the sight of you. You went to face him when Lucien gave your hair a generous tug and a disapproving hum, telling you not to move.

“I need five minutes.” The auburn-haired male said, not taking his eyes off your hair.

“You want me to tell Helion that?” Ruhn raised a brow and leaned against the door frame.

Lucien met Ruhn’s eyes through the mirror. “If this is going to work then she needs to look perfect.”

“She’s already perfect.” Ruhn murmured.

“More perfect then.” Lucien replied, not paying the Midgardian any more mind as he continued his ministrations in your hair.

Your eyes met Ruhn’s through the mirror once again. There you could see a million words he couldn’t say. So, you focused your gaze to the oak table in front of you as you heard the door close.

Minutes later you found yourself waiting for the High Lord’s meeting to begin. The meeting hall in Helion’s palace was breathtaking. A vast marble sanctuary reminiscent of an ancient Athenian assembly hall. Tall doric style columns soared overhead, their fluted shafts supporting a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes. Mosaic floors, arranged in interlocking geometric patterns, depicted mythic scenes of High Fae and Lesser Fae in timeless dialogue, while carved friezes along the walls recalled storied epic battles and divine interventions. Natural light streamed through tall, arched windows, bathing the assembly in a golden radiance that lent an air of solemnity to the proceedings.

You stood behind an archway that led into a small hall on the side of the grand room; Ruhn, Bryce, and Hunt behind you. You peeked around the side as six of the seven total High Lords entered the space, taking their seats along the long, wooden table. You remembered Lucien’s hidden expression when Helion confirmed that Tamlin had been the only one not to send a response. The slight tremor in your fingers forced you to flex them. 

“It will be okay,” Ruhn reassured, his large hand resting against the small of your back. “This is the right decision.” Nodding you poked your head around the corner again. 

Standing before the various High Lords, Helion raised his arms in greeting. “Thank you all for coming.” He began, his deep voice resonating throughout the space, “It’s been too long since we’ve come together to discuss the affairs of our lands. When last we convened, Hybern brought war upon us. Each court valiantly fought against an enemy that had numerous advantages, including control of the enigmatic Cauldron created by the Mother herself. We defeated Hybern by what many could claim as sheer luck, but in truth we knew our enemy.” The High Lord of Day paused. 

“I would expect these dramatics from Rhysand, not you Helion,” You could hear the smile in the amused tone from a handsome caramel color haired male sitting to the right of Helion. 

Helion looked to the male, “True, Thesan, I’m less known from my grand reveals, but the preamble is necessary for the weight of the information that I have obtained. Prythian is at risk of another more ancient foe returning to our world. The Daglan.” His gaze shot over to Rhysand as a ripple of murmurs passed among the gathered entourages of the various High Lords. 

“How did you come by this information?” A young male with platinum blond hair and piercing ice blue eyes leaned forward in his seat, his hand reaching for a female of equal icy beauty. If their appearance wasn’t an automatic give away their warm attire definitely marked them as the rulers of the Winter Court: Kallias and Vivian. 

Helion turned towards where you and the others stood waiting, his arm rising to cue your entrance. “I have come to learn that our world is not the only one of its kind.” You felt your knees shaking as you all walked forward. Ruhn’s hand remained on your back, its strength and warmth the only thing keeping you grounded.  “Our universe holds worlds that also harbor life. My guests, kin of the Night Court and the ancient former High Queen Theia, hail from such a world.” Helion continued, his voice steady. “They are the ones who warned me. Over the past five years they have traveled between our two worlds, working tirelessly to monitor and report on the Daglan’s movements and plans, which is why neither myself nor Rhysand and Feyre came forward until now.” You turned your head slightly to see a smirk on Nesta’s face. Azriel stood behind her, his honey hazel eyes wide for the briefest of moments. His gaze remained solely focused on you and you couldn’t stop the heat that spread across your cheeks. 

You finally reached the meeting table, inlaid with delicate laurel wreaths and olive branches. You could feel the tension thicken the air. All eyes landed on your small group of four. The mixture of expressions on all present made you dizzy. Shock and surprise, anger, disgust, and fear. Dozens of eyes bouncing from you to Bryce to Hunt. It was easy to tell when the others saw Ruhn, a few letting out small gasps due to his extreme resemblance to Rhysand. 

Helion cleared his throat, eyes landing on Lucien. With a small nod, the emissary rose from his seat that had been placed between Feyre and Helion. “As the Night Court’s emissary, and fellow guest of the Day Court, I would like to introduce our kin from Midgard.” He again listed the names for each of you. You immediately noticed how there was no mention of you being from an unknown world. Seeing as how you weren’t even sure if your world was connected and your arrival more than just a mere fluke, it was probably best that all assumed you too were from Midgard. 

Your eyes scanned the crowded table as you took the empty seats. Each high lord brought at least two to three members of their higher-ranking court members to accompany them. You could immediately pick out Lucien’s family from the Autumn Court. Beron’s face was nearly as red as the highlights in his hair. 

“What the hell is the meaning of all this, Rhysand?” Beron’s rage was palatable as he fixed his attention on the High Lord of Night. “Finally making a move to place yourself as High King? Using the absurd threat of the Daglan as justification?” Helion rolled his eyes while Thesan groaned. 

Rhysand, seated with an unmistakable calm, met Beron’s gaze and allowed a small, knowing smile to appear as he replied, “I have no interest in that position, Beron. Helion called this meeting without mine or Feyre’s prior knowledge. The arrival of Bryce and her companions have always been that of a family matter.” His purple gaze shifted to Helion. “But since you assume I am after power, I will tell you all what I know. Our own histories tell of the Daglan’s defeat and disappearance from our world. You, Beron, and I know that various members of our respective courts had also disappeared not long after. Bryce and her brother Ruhn are distant kin of the Night Court and can confirm the Daglan are still alive and seek revenge on our world.”

“Rhysand is correct, and this is no coup,” Helion advised. “The Daglan, known in Midgard as the Asteri, are alive and just as powerful as ever. It is only a matter of time before they have a specific plan to return. Ms. Quinlan shall explain further.” 

Bryce nodded, her body surprisingly taking on an almost regal air. “The Asteri-the Daglan- are the supreme beings in control of all of Midgard. The history of the Midgardian Fae and the Night Court recount High Queen Theia and her followers traveling through a rift within the Night Court lands and were later trapped on Midgard. Humans and Vanir- Faes and other near immortal beings- have started a rebellion against the Daglan. Many have died, and continue to be killed every day. I was traveling to find others to help us in overthrowing and driving the Daglan off Midgard for good. My arrival on Alfheim, the home world of my and my brother’s ancestors-your world-was honestly an accident.” Bryce motioned to Ruhn, her eyes flicking over to the seats of those from the Autumn Court as well. You couldn’t deny the resemblance seen within her hair and eye color. It was also not lost on you that her father’s title of Autumn King may be in honor of their ancestors. 

“That doesn’t answer how the Daglan pose a current threat to us,” A male with striking white dreaded hair and rich dark skin interrupted. 

“As Rhysand stated, they have a grudge against this world,” Bryce answered with a measured tone. “This world is the only one that defeated them and successfully sent them away. Their number one goal is to return, and have been searching for a way for thousands of millennia.” 

Beron let out a dark chuckle, “This is ridiculous.” His laughter grew. “An absolute farce!”

“She’s not lying, Beron,” Rhysand’s voice was calm. “Not about the Daglan’s desire to return. Members of my own court have been to Midgard and gathered their own intel about the legitimacy of their claims when rescuing her brother and mate, both of whom can surely attest to the cruelty that awaits us all should we not take preemptive action.” A silence settled over the room. 

“Each Asteri wields the power of a star. If they find a way to break through to this world they intend to take ultimate control again.” Ruhn spoke up. 

“Break through?” Kellias questioned. “I’m confused. You and your companions have been traveling back and forth, yet the Daglan are unable? What holds them back?” Bryce looked over to Rhysand and then to Nesta. Your eyes followed hers to see Nesta grant Bryce a small nod. 

“I carry an item of the Dread Trove within me, Theia’s Horn,” Her words rang into the silence that yet again settled over all in attendance. Blank stares greeted them. 

“I’ve never heard of the Dread Trove,” Tarquin admitted. He looked around at his fellow High Lords, landing on Beron whose face had gone ashen. “Beron?”

“Impossible,” the High Lord of Autumn spat. “The Dread Trove is a myth. This entire meeting is nothing but a trick for the Night Court to increase its power.” 

“Feyre and I have plenty of internal Night Court tasks to keep us occupied. There is no desire for anything more,” Rhysand’s voice remained calm, but a sliver of darkness rippled around his frame. 

“What of your kin then?” Beron continued, nose wrinkled in disgust as his deep amber eyes landed on you. “How do we know that they haven’t come here with the intention of establishing themselves as our new rulers? I will admit that I was fooled once by the Harlot of Hybern, but I will not be fooled by outsiders again!”

“Enough Beron!” Helion practically roared, his power bursting in an invisible wave, forcing Beron to comply. Fear spread through you so quickly that you had no way of stopping the soft whimper that escaped your throat as you felt the power within that command, although not directed to you. The feeling wrapped around you, reminding you of when you felt it last; at that ancient library when Lucien left you alone with Helion. It wasn’t until this very moment, where Beron seems to have no option but to be silent at Helion’s command that you understand that perhaps Lucien did not have a choice either. Helion’s eyes softened as their focus was drawn to you. His attention highlighted your presence as it had previously been overlooked. 

“She’s… human…” Kallias’ brows rose, likely finally picking your scent apart. You shifted in your seat, eyes darting around. Ruhn’s hand shifted from your lower back to your hip. His grip tightening as he pulled you closer. Another male with bright long red hair began to chuckle. 

“It appears the Night Court’s affinity for humans runs in their blood,” The male’s amber eyes glinted with mischief. “I’m intrigued to know what role the Doppelganger’s lover plays in all this.” Ruhn growled at the male, but it was Azriel that spoke. 

“Watch your tongue, Eris before I cut it from your mouth and feed it to those dogs you love so much,” Azriel’s words were slicing, but Eris merely grinned. 

“Oh, she must be of importance if one of the lap dogs is snarling,” Eris continued mocking, taking you in more carefully; the color and pattern of your dress, your intricate hair style, the color of your eyes and your body language towards the Starborn prince. “You look horrendous, as if someone could not make up their mind as to where you belonged. I suppose that is fitting for a mortal who is clearly desperate to become Fae.”

The room erupted in a wave of power, knocking Eris on his ass, chair tipping back and a leg breaking off. The male looked up, lip split with dark ruby red slowly making its way down in his chin. Ruhn stood up, placing his body in front of you as you remained seated. From the other side of the table Lucien and Azriel stood practically side by side. For the first time during this meeting Rhysand looked genuinely surprised.  

Helion once again raised his arm. “If we can please set aside the petty squabbles and get back to the matter at hand,” He looked between the three males. 

“Eris makes a fair point,” Tarquin spoke up, “Why is a human present for discussion on the affairs of the Fae?” Helion looked between you and Rhysand. 

“She, too, is kin of the Night Court…and High Queen Theia,” Helion’s voice was unwavering as the truth rolled off his tongue. “She was also instrumental in the discovery of a prophecy that foretells the return of the Daglan. Making the threat they possess all the more legitimate.” Again, the room settled into a heavy quiet.  

“What does this prophecy state?” Thesan finally asked. Helion’s warm gaze returned to you as he gestured for you to rise. You winced as the wooden chair scraped along the marble flooring. You knew that you couldn’t show any signs of weakness or uncertainty as dozens of Fae eyes landed on you. With a deep inhale your eyes landed on the still empty chair reserved for the absent High Lord of Spring. 

“When magic returns to the earth, and death’s shadow is unchained, celestial bodies will bring forth new reign.” Your tone was solemn and the meeting hall went entirely still. You allowed your eyes to dart around, taking in the expressions from all present. The air felt thick, like a large thunder storm was building on the horizon. You supposed it was. The information was outlandish to say the least. You couldn’t blame Beron nor any of the others for assuming this was absurd. 

“It’s highly convenient,” Beron was the first to break the silence, though the heaviness in the air continued to thicken, “this discovery being found at the same time that interlopers make their way into our courts. Did you honestly think that having a pathetic human relay the information would-” You belted out a laugh. Your heart fluttered, blood boiling as your laugh grew. Your limbs felt as if they were filled with lead and air. Your mind, dizzy and drifting away from your body. Ruhn’s fingers interlaced with yours. 

“A pathetic human?” Your voice sounded distant to your own ears. “I may look weak and fragile, but I assure you I am not. I am certain that I have endured more disparities and violence in my short existence than you have in the hundreds of years your rancid ass has plagued the lives of everyone here.” 

“(Y/N),” You couldn’t hear Rhysand’s calm warning as blood pounded in your ears. Ruhn’s hand gripped yours tightly as Beron’s face grew red with rage. 

“I survived and triumphed from the adversity I have faced as a human.” Your voice, one you couldn’t believe was your own, remained steady as you continued. “I have encountered arrogant scum, boastful bastards just like you, and have proved them wrong in their attempts to lie about facts. The facts in this are simple. The Daglan will return. They will kill you and your people for their own enjoyment. They will then rape this world of all its resources simply because they believe they have some claim due to a bogus belief of innate superiority. If you can’t understand that, then it is you who are pathetic!” 

Beron’s face was enraged. “You arrogant bitch!” A snarl ripped from him as a wave of bright flames soared towards you. Ruhn’s arms quickly wrapped around your waist, lifting and spinning you out of the line of fire. The hall was immediately filled with a distorted combination of bright light and shadows. Shouting and the banging of objects added to the chaotic atmosphere. The smell of burning flesh brought your attention to Ruhn. 

Your eyes widened as they took in the sight of his burned forearm. “Oh gods!” You looked up at his face, the grimace of pain clear in his expression even as he tried to reassure you. Out of the corner of your eye you caught a shadow carefully curling around your arm. The whisper of movement helped ground your focus, bringing you back into your body after you allowed your anger to get the best of you. “Ruhn, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, baby. I’ve been burned before,” He carefully smoothed down the flyaway strands of hair that poked out from your braids. “Are you okay though?” You nodded, the shouting now dying down, Helion’s firm tone once again resonating through the hall.  

“We must stop this infighting!” Helion’s voice continued to resonate, an arm outstretched toward the High Lord of Autumn. Your eyes followed his glare. Beron was pinned in his seat by some invisible force. “You have no authority to punish my guests for any perceived insolence while in my domain, Beron. The Daglan plan to return and this prophecy confirms that forces beyond our control are at work.” Helion lowered his arm, and Beron’s body slumped as whatever held him in place lifted. “There is no plan to change the way in which we govern ourselves. I simply ask that we all assess the resources within each of our respected courts. We can reconvene in the near future to discuss any necessary specifics to safeguard our peoples. Until then, be vigilant and may the Mother bless you.” His tone of finality immediately ended the meeting. 

Beron was the first to stand and leave, his wife trailing behind, but not before she looked over to where Lucien sat. Your own gaze followed and saw the glimpse of sorrow in the male’s deep russet right eye. You also didn’t miss the way Eris glanced over you once again. His smirk pulling at his split lip.

Rhysand and Feyre stood, along with the other remaining High Lords. “Helion, may we speak in private?”

Azriel was motionless, standing at the edge of the wooden table, until the room thinned. His knuckles white from the tension of the fists he held at his sides. He couldn’t believe he reacted in such a manner. The loss of control was unexpected. At least for him. Then again, he behaved just as unexpectedly during the High Lords meeting when Hybern was waging war against them. But that was in defense of his High Lady and this time it…was in defense of (Y/N). 

His thoughts drifted back to the beginning of the meeting. How his shadows skittered toward the wings of the hall where she stood waiting. He remembered how beams of light caught the chiffon layered around her like a memory of sunset—pale pink bleeding into peach and then to purple—and for a moment the rest of the room blurred around her. The beads at the hem shimmered from within, as if the first stars of dusk made a home inside her gown. He remembered how his eyes continued to scan over her as she peeked around the corner. His breath catching in his throat from the way the cinched bodice highlighted her natural curves. He had noted each and every detail. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek as he visually traced the graceful pull of fabric winding up the curve of her breasts and over her collarbone to anchor at the opposite shoulder. He immediately heard Ruhn’s drunken voice in his head, recounting just how perfect her breasts were and the illusion in his mind shattered.  

Azriel shook his head, ridding himself of the mental image. His desire wasn’t genuine. No, it had to merely be pent up frustrations. He had trained himself to keep a respectful distance from the woman. However, he couldn’t stop whatever draw he had towards her. No, not a draw towards her, he wanted to repair the damage he’d done to an innocent victim of circumstance. Yet when Eris’s voice slid across the room—sharp, hunting—remarking on her appearance, her humanness, emphasizing how she did not belong. Something in him rendered Eris’ words as violence. The way the statement attempted to brand her as a curiosity. He knew those same words would be burned into her mind for months to come. A confirmation of her fears that she doesn’t belong. Azriel was aware that she never said as much to him directly, but he had observed her reactions during outings with Nyx enough to recognize the loneliness of feeling like an outsider. 

Though with (Y/N)’s discovery of this prophecy he supposed she was less of an outsider than they all expected. He recalled the way the words landed like a stone in his gut. The way his hearing narrowed until all that remained were the edges of her voice—the cadence, the breath where the words lived. The line about celestial bodies and death’s shadow snapped a taut wire inside him. Prophecies were murky clouds obscuring the truth until it was already well underway. Bryce had already informed those of the Night Court of the prophecy from Midgard regarding Gwydion and Truth-Teller reuniting the Fae of both worlds. This one, though, settled differently. It was more convoluted with multiple ways to interpret its meaning. One thing that he did know was that (Y/N) would likely play more of a central role than anyone else would immediately recognize.  

Azriel continued to stand in the empty hall, cataloging his thoughts on how he might protect her moving forward. Her attire and manner in which she was present in the meeting was not happenstance. It was calculated. Eris’ comments pointed that out, and turned the intention around. He recognized, with a clarity that surprised him, that Eris’ taunts weren’t meant to distract. No, they were meant to drive the notion of truth home. Their world was changing, and the truth was (Y/N) did not need permission to exist within the courts. As an heir to the only true High Queen, she had a claim to a lost court, one that could even unite the others. However, she was human… 

Most of the High Fae, and even Lesser Fae, would never follow the guidance of a human. The Mother surely recognized that, after all, she somehow managed to guide events to ensure his High Lady and her sisters were Made fae. If the same were to happen to her…This prophecy could eventually rearrange the map, and Eris’s remark intentionally brought that knowledge to the forefront.

Azriel tensed as a surge of male instinct filled his stomach. He did not allow himself to name the feeling, nor dwell on what it meant. He only allowed recognition of what choices lay before him: stay close, watch for those who would gain profit by using the woman as leverage, and be ready to put himself in the line of fire. Literally and figuratively.

“Oi! Lap dog,” Eris’ voice echoed across the hall as he walked up to the Shadowsinger, “Your master is calling.” The male pointed over towards where Rhysand and Helion stood in a large archway. “I’m certain your skills will be useful in verifying the information I have regarding potential issues the human you so courageously defended may cause now that others are aware of her existence." Azriel’s eyes narrowed. 

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out,” the Autumn heir continued on his way towards the High Lords. Rhysand’s eyes continued to glance over Helion’s broad shoulder. He tucked in his wings and slowly donned the mask of Spy Master before following the trio towards the floor with the Night Court’s dedicated suite. 

Azriel's shadows slid ahead of him along the corridor, thin fingers of darkness that brushed the Night Court’s suite's jamb and drew back with echoes. From that seam of silence came fragments of the conversation already underway between his High Lord and Helion. Each beat of tension was a pinprick that heightened his senses. He let the shadows listen first, felt their small tremors translate into meaning before he allowed his feet to carry him closer; his breath hitched when he heard Helion mentioned (Y/N).

“Spare me your lectures, Rhysand,” Helion advised cooly. “You had originally come to me for assistance. This is just merely the fruits of that labor.” Azriel threw out an arm, halting Eris in his tracks. The shadows relayed every detail within the room. Light from an arch threw Helion’s shadow long across the floor, and the suite inhaled—silence stretched thin. Azriel's shoulder tightened; the shadows at his heels pulsed in time with the hush. 

Rhysand’s gaze held Helion’s, the question folded into a single, deliberate tone. “If the prophecy is to be believed, do you see the four of them fitting into those roles?” 

Helion paused, sunlight catching the edge of his mouth. “The prophecy names conditions, not individuals.”

“Conditions need individuals in order to be met. Their presence is not a simple coincidence, Helion. They’ve created a bridge. Bryce and Ruhn have clear blood ties to two of the seven existing courts. It’s even possible they would be what reconnects old power to the Prison, making it an eighth court.”

“You sound almost as paranoid as Beron,” Helion eyed Rhysand suspiciously. “What are you so afraid of?”  A slow, cautious anger pricked at Azriel. What had his brother become so afraid of? Surely, he couldn’t still be afraid of…

“(Y/N).” Rhysand’s voice was cold. Azriel pressed his palm flat against the cool stone, grounding himself as the sound of her name shifted the world out from under him. The image of (Y/N) standing in the hall wearing a gown derived from visual elements of multiple courts, hair and jewelry adding to an image that could all too easily be interpreted as one who could unite courts under a single ruler. His fingers tightened against the wall until the stone bit the skin.

“(Y/N) is mortal. She holds no magic.” Helion’s voice sounded just as defensive as Azriel felt. “Be honest with me, old friend, how is a mortal with no magic a threat?” 

“When Bryce first arrived, it was unexpected,” Rhysand began, “But she spoke the Old Language and she clearly had Fae features. We were able to gather information from her about where she came from and the danger her world possesses. That was not the case for (Y/N).”  A small, involuntary shudder raced through Azriel as the implications stacked. “I was there when she arrived in front of my home. There was a…spark of light, bright yet soft, like the moon’s glow. That aspect now makes sense with her being one of my distant kin. Bryce and her brother have Starlight, why wouldn’t another have aspects of the moon?” Azriel could feel Eris eye him wearily as they both stood outside the suite. 

“Rhys,” Helion’s voice softened as he placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“The Mother brought her here Helion,” the male whispered. “A human from a foreign world brought to ours…” Azriel felt the floor tilt, as if the weight of his brother’s words shifted the very balance beneath Prythian. 

“Then if there is to be a grand rearranging of the status quo, you and I must guide her,” Helion inclined his head, decision steady. “Guide where we can. Guard where we must. And prepare for the day those ‘celestial bodies’ choose their throne.”

 Azriel felt Eris’s burning amber gaze as he stood frozen at the door. 

“Well?” Eris hissed, chin inclining towards the scarred hand now wrapped around the handle. Az opened the door to the suite, his shoulders tight as Eris strode in, loose as a blade, behind him. The arrival of the Autumn heir shifted the gazes of the two High Lords. Rhysand’s jaw tightened, as Helion’s words settled like cooled coals. 

Eris walked over to a large chaise, sitting himself in one fluid motion.  The male’s smile was all teeth. “Are we so certain that these off-worlders are the ones that prophecy is about?”

Rhysand folded his arms, voice low and precise. “What rumors have you already heard, Eris?”

“I’ve heard nothing,” Eris continued to smirk.

Helion’s gaze flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris. “Yet you insinuate doubt. We have confirmation that the Daglan still exist and a pending arrival documented in a prophecy. Prophecy is—.”

Eris shrugged, casual but pointed. “Messy at best. Prophecies twist and break. I cast doubt because throwing titles and destiny at strangers from other worlds reshapes alliances. We do not want to risk the safety of our courts on a misread omen.”

Azriel’s voice cut in, quiet but firm. “She-they aren’t strangers.” Rhysand’s eyes met Azriel’s.

“You are right, Eris. Their presence will reshape alliances.” Rhys kept his tone measured; the shadows at his heels tightened like a leash. “But there has yet to be any indication that any of my kin, or their accomplices will be the ones to take over. So, we must all watch and guard ourselves so as not to hand over trust because it looks good on paper.”

Helion steepled his fingers, sunlight from an overhead arched window igniting the gold in his irises. “So, you would have us do what exactly?” 

Eris’s smile sharpened. “Have we considered that we’re misreading the players? What if the prophecy isn’t only about a unifier from off-world? What if it signals the loosening of more dangerous things?”

“I take it that you know what that more dangerous thing is.” Rhysand, to his credit, didn’t give off any level of surprise. Helion inclined his head slowly, his expression inscrutable beneath the lofty, Greek-inspired arches. 

“I do. As my father dealt with Briallyn, I was able to gain knowledge that, while fairly common on the Continent and Mortal lands, had been lost to us in Prythian.” He smirked. 

“As riveting as that sounds, Eris, make your point.” Helion advised.  

“The mortals of the continent pay homage to three Death Gods. Each one oversees a different aspect of death: one foresaw the manner in which one died, another carried out burial rites, and the last carried out the deed of reaping the souls the Mother marked for death. The belief is that the last one has earned the nickname of Death’s Shadow.” He let the idea hang, watching their faces for any fracture it made. Rhysand and Helion kept on their stone masks, not letting Beron’s prodigal son be preview to any surprise his knowledge may have arisen. “What if this isn’t simply a matter of the Daglan returning—what if their power is intertwined with Koschei being released from his lakeside prison?” 

“That is an interesting theory,” Rhysand mused. “Though, the mortals have it wrong. Koschei and his siblings aren’t those romanticized versions overseeing stages related to death. They were responsible for it. They fed off the life force of all living beings.” 

“Additionally, Koschei isn’t the only one in this world with that nickname,” Helion gave Rhysand a pointed look. “And as many of us know, prophecies should never be taken at face value. Death’s Shadow may not even be a direct name that one goes by.” Helion’s deep amber eyes shifted to Azriel. Az felt the muscles of his jaw clench. He recalled hearing of Hunt’s nickname on Midgard and the role he played. One that was similar to his own job. Hunting down and spying on enemies. Extracting truth from them, forcefully and painfully, if necessary. 

“I’ll concede there are many paths in which things can unfold,” Eris pulled out a dagger and picked at his nails, “However, if Koschei were to find a way to unbind himself, what would stop him from joining forces with the Daglan?”

“Who’s to say Koschei wouldn’t wipe the Daglan out?” Helion postured. “The Daglan, while powerful and immortal, only play at being gods. Koschei is a God. At least according to Rhysand.” The small group went silent as the air hummed with tension. Azriel glanced between the other males standing before him, his eyes landing on his High Lord. 

“Azriel,” Rhysand broke the silence. “I need you and Eris to work together to gather information on Koschei and any of his followers.” A muscle ticked in Azriel’s jaw and Eris smirked, but he nodded in agreement all the same.  

“Hm.” Eris let out a short chuckle and handed the dagger to Helion, hilt first. “Give this to my runt of a brother, won’t you?”

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

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You had especially grown to love the summers in the Day Court. The gentle breezes that built up into large thunderstorms. The scent of the large citrus groves filled your and Lucien’s room. Which is where you currently found yourself; lounging on the bed, head tilted and resting on your folded hands. The white linens clung to your sweat soaked skin. The approaching storm had only accomplished raising the humidity of the open air room.  You laid there, eyes closed, listening to Lucien’s soft baritone as he read to you. You would never grow tired of his voice, and had it not been for the rising humidity you could listen to him read for hours. 

Groaning, you turned on to your back,  the cotton sheet rippling off you as a gust of wind blew in from the balcony. “It’s too humid!” Turning your head, you looked up at him from your position on the bed. The warm breeze continued its soft assault as your hair and large loose t-shirt, a gift from Hunt, smacked you relentlessly in the face. The chuckle coming from the male sitting next to you made your stomach flip, as did the soft feel of his fingertips on your forehead as he brushed stray strands of hair from your eyes.   

“It’s not that humid. At least no more so than any of the summer’s we’ve spent here before,” Lucien remarked, folding a corner of the page down to hold his place in the book. A mocking gasp left you as you pointed at the dog-eared page for all the times he gave you grief for not using a bookmark. Raising the corner of his lip, Lucian ignored you and continued, “I thought you said you loved thunderstorms.” 

“I do,” You sat up, moving to take the book from his grasp. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t complain about them.” Lucien held the book high above his head out of your reach causing you to whine. “Lu…I can practically swim through the air. How can you stand this fucking weather?”

“Simple, Fae are better at regulating body temperature.” His matter of fact tone irked you. A detail he likely caught onto and quickly followed up with, “At least in mild scenarios like this. I’d die of hypothermia just like any human would if stuck in a blizzard in the Winter Court unprepared.” 

“Bullshit. You have fire magic,” You sat back onto your shins, thighs exposed as the small sleep shorts rode further up towards the crevice where your legs met your hips. The two of you sat there on the bed for a long moment. Looking over his face, you couldn’t find a single drop of sweat. Another highlight into the vast differences between Fae and human physiology and how you just didn’t belong here. 

You on the other hand were completely drenched. Beads of the slightly salty and tangy liquid slowly dripped down the back of your neck, slipping under your collar to make their way down the center of your spine. You had to look like a disgusting mess compared to the many Fae females living in Prythian. Certainly neither Elaine nor…clearing your throat you stood up from the bed. 

“I need to cool off before I get heat stroke,” Masking the rising hurt within your voice you made your way to the bathing chamber. The chamber reminded you of the one at the Moonstone palace, only the bath was raised above the floor instead of set inside. Looking over the array of bottles and glass canisters filled with oils and salts you heard the male approach. You were grateful that Lucien had taken to making his steps heavier in order for you to hear him approach. Something that only he and Hunt seemed to have picked up on even needing to be a necessity. 

“Want some company?” Lucien’s voice drifted into the bathroom as he leaned against the doorframe. His playful smirk didn’t falter an inch as you huffed in annoyance. You knew his teasing was just that and nothing more. He may have been a sly fox to others, but you knew that he was also loyal to any potential relationship he may have with Elain. Loyal to a fault almost. Not that she had yet taken the chance to get to know him well enough for her to deserve his loyalty. 

“No,” Your eyes focused on the cool water as it poured out of the tap into the ivory lined stone basin of the tub. “Now get out before you cause a scandal.” The male held his hands up in surrender as he turned and left the chamber, closing the door behind him. 

The brisk water immediately soothed your overheated body. You almost swore that steam rose up from your once sweat soaked skin.  Despite the goosebumps that erupted over your flesh, you weren’t ready to escape the chilled depths of the bath. After a few moments your muscles finally relaxed. As your body relaxed, so did your mind and you began to hum softly. Seamlessly moving from one tune to another, your fingers lightly kept time against the rim of the tub. You were so caught up in the calm moment you almost didn’t hear Luicen’s soft knock on the bathroom door. 

“Come in,” Your voice called as you lowered yourself and turned your body to hide your more feminine aspects from his view. The first thing you saw was Lucien’s brightened auburn hair poke around the solid oak door. The Day Court always seemed to bring out the lighter highlights whereas the color appeared more drab whenever he was in the Night Court. Before he could notice you staring you forced your eyes away from the strands as a few fell away from his shoulder. 

“Are you seriously not done yet?” He took a step into the room, that sly half cocked smile still on the corner of his lips. “If you stay in there any longer you’ll shrivel up like a dried prune, my darling.” Your face scrunched up in an expression of disgust at the nickname before sticking your tongue out at him. Of course, this only caused him to laugh heartily at your expense. 

“Do you need something?” You scowled at him, lifting your lip in a way to resemble the stupid snarls you saw between other males while walking around Velaris from time to time. 

“Wow,” His voice was deadpan, “You’re about as terrifying as a chipmunk.” 

“Fuck you!” You pouted, turning away from him. 

“Not today, love, we don’t have the time.” Whipping your head back around you gaped at him. His saccharine smile fully reminding you why he was once called the ‘Lord of Foxes’. With a growl you raised your hand back to collect as much water as you could before smacking it out of the tub in his direction. Being Fae, he easily dodged the wave as it spilled onto the stone floor. 

“You have five minutes to finish up before I drag you out myself,” His amber eyes sparkled with mischief, “Though that could be fun. It’s not like I haven’t seen all you have to offer before.” Your eyes went wide and you guffawed at him. 

“You. Dick!” This time you took a bar of soap and launched it at his head, which he easily caught with one hand. “Damn you!” You had to purse your lips to stop the smile that desperately wanted to join his. 

“Hurry up now, we have a long trip to that ancient tomb of a Library after lunch.” He retreated back to the door frame, “And I was really hoping we could walk through the garden before we leave.” His smile was so inviting that you found yourself almost instantly giving in. 

“What about the storm?” 

“It’s still a couple of hours away,” He turned to leave, “The breeze will make the walk much more pleasant than just lounging in the room like we’ve done half the day.” The end of his statement caused you to pause as you processed the words. 

“Wait, what time is it?” You sat up a little straighter, still ensuring to cover your breasts from his view. Not that he would be looking anyway…

“Almost two in the afternoon,” Lucien rolled his eyes. “Thanks to the Day Court and their late start to the day everything gets pushed back by hours.” 

“I’m perfectly fine with the late mornings,” You smiled at him and his lips mirrored yours. 

“Oh I know, love. You wouldn’t survive in the Autumn or Spring Courts,” Lucien walked out of the bathing chamber and towards the light oak wardrobe next to the entrance. You could vaguely make out his frame as he allowed you to slip out of the tub and wrap yourself in your fuzzy bathrobe. “Beron was very rigid with all of our schedules. My brothers and I would be woken up between 7 or 8 in the morning, a reasonable time mind you. After dressing we had a small breakfast, followed by morning sparring lessons while the weather was still cool. Lunch was at exactly midday and if you were late…well you didn’t eat. My brothers would have lessons in regards to ruling over the territories they would be assigned once they grew into maturity. Which if you ask me never actually occurred. Thus, I was left to my own devices. Which would have been fantastic had Mother not insisted on my being in the library to study whatever I desired.” The sound of hangers scraped against the wooden rod holding up the vast array of fashionable Day Court styles filling the wardrobe. You watched as Lucien examined each outfit before looking up at you and back to the wardrobe, seemingly unsatisfied with anything inside. “Supper was at 5 in the evening, and the largest meal of the day. It was only during the festivals we were allowed to let loose and raise hell until about 3 in the morning.” He chuckled as his eyes flashed up and down your body. With his gaze returning to the selection of clothes he shook his head in dissatisfaction before he continued. “The Spring Court under Tamlin’s rule was more relaxed, except for the wake up call. I personally believe that waking up at the ass crack of dawn should be a crime.” You snorted at his use of your slang. How many times did you make that same remark when having to wake up at 4 in the morning for training with Azriel? It must have been in the thousands. 

“Let me guess, you need your beauty sleep? Or is it to nurse the endless hangovers from the wine you needed in order to deal with the asinine bullshit that is required of an emissary?” You batted your lashes at him innocently as you leaned against the doorframe. 

He smiled and chuckled, “Something like that.” Finally he decided on a selection and pulled a dress out of the wardrobe. The breezy organza and linen fabric blew in the wind winding its way through your shared bedroom. A part of you felt the material would be too light and would just end up giving everyone a free show of what would be underneath, but perhaps its lightness was best for the humidity. Lucien held the light moss green dress in front of you. You were grateful that the length barely brushed your toes, and not so long that it would cause you to trip. Two wide straps of linen allowed you to configure the top half of the garment in any way that you felt was most flattering. Smiling, you nodded in approval and took the dress from his hands. Setting the dress on a hanger near the vanity, you saw Lucien digging through the drawers in search of under garments. The rest of the exchange was done in comfortable silence before you once again retreated to the bathroom to get dressed for the afternoon’s excursion. 

Once the door was shut and your privacy resumed, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Looking back at the dress hanging nearby you debated on wearing any cosmetics and if they would be of any benefit. With the humidity it wouldn’t make sense to do a full face of makeup, but the redness and shadows gracing your cheeks made you cringe. If you went for a walk that same redness would just get worse. Powder wouldn’t cover that on its own, and any liquid or cream foundation would just melt and wash away from the sweat. Sighing you sat down at the vanity and perused over the various cosmetic items you had accumulated over the years. 

Eventually your eyes settled on a small tin filled with a baked square of kohl, Prythian’s version of cake mascara and eyeliner. Outlining your eyes would be too dramatic with your outfit, but you could still easily apply the substance to your eye lashes with the miniature toothbrush-like applicator. When you first purchased the tin you had been skeptical on how well it would apply to your lashes. However, it quickly became one of your new favorites as you’d never seen your eyelashes look so good. Pulling the tin towards you and pulling out the brush you leaned over to the sink to wet it. It took you a while to learn the best application method, something you and Bryce had a three hour long conversation over. The makeup in your two respective worlds were very similar but neither of you had used this particular medium. Thus, both of you sat in front of a mirror applying, removing, and reapplying until you both got it just right. 

You loosened a soft chuckle at the memory, gently swirling the brush on one side of the square chunk of kohl until you were satisfied with its saturation. Carefully you brought the brush to your lashes, raking them through the bristles and coating them. You could practically hear Ruhn’s light-hearted teasing in your mind even though he was entirely incapable of mind-speaking with you. Pausing your hand, you sigh and stare at your reflection. The memory of your birthday never dulled and the hollow feeling in your chest never went away. It didn’t matter how many times you rationalized the events in your mind. It didn’t matter how many times he had apologized for his thoughtless words. 

“Lidia,” His voice that night still rang clear as the bell in the ancient clock tower leagues away from Helion’s palace. “It’s ok Lidia, I’ve got you.” The simple fact remained; Ruhn wanted Lidia. Not you. Why would he want a human like you? Why, when he could have someone that was more beautiful, more of what he needed. You didn’t even know what she looked like, but you knew deep down that she was what he needed. Just from the little bit you had gathered you had the suspicion this Lidia was his mate.  You blinked away the tears, using the sleeve of your bathrobe to touch up the bits of mascara that started to run down your cheeks. 

In an effort to clear your mind you continued to get ready and removed your bathrobe to get dressed, but all your movements ceased as soon as you caught a glimpse of your plump form in the mirror. Your eyes scanned over your stomach and the sagging skin of your lower belly before moving on to the extra dips on your obliques between your waist and underbust. It took all your inner strength to keep a new wave of tears at bay. Yes, you engaged in physical activity daily and were eating probably the healthiest you had ever eaten. Yet you still felt like a stranger in your own skin. The image projected back at you didn’t match the one in your mind. 

Disgusted, your eyes left the mirror and strayed over to the cosmetic bag. Specifically landing on a small cut out section of the silk lining where you’d hidden a small single sided razor blade. Your mind emptied while your hand was guided by an autopilot mode not used in years. The razor was meant to be a spare within shave kit you had gotten for Ruhn, but you had kept it for your own use. You weren’t entirely sure you had ever really intended on ever using it, its presence alone providing you with a warped sense of security. However, the blade had been dragged across your skin once or twice since your arrival. The sleek metal gleamed in the low light of the bathroom from the sunlight above as you pulled it out of the bag. 

Deep down you knew this was an unhealthy way to deal with your self doubts. It didn’t truly relieve any of the pain and it didn’t make you love yourself in any form. Besides, who could love someone still so broken? Not allowing yourself to answer that question, you sat down on the edge of the tub and examined the old scars on your legs. Would the dress cover any new wounds? Could you get to one of the many servants to ask for a healing salve before either Lucien or Helion noticed? And were you seriously considering self-harm over a guy? A guy not being interested in you wasn’t a new concept. In fact it was the status quo in your life before you were dropped in front of the River House. 

So, why? Why was your mind even making this an issue? You knew why. Deep down you knew that your old wounds never healed and being in this new world just highlighted the lonely hopeless romantic inside you. Finding and accepting love was hard in your world. It should be easier here, right? This world had mates. It shouldn’t matter that you were a different species from literally everyone else you knew. Nor should it matter that there was no record of human’s having mates. There was still some type of pull. Both Nesta and Cassian had said as much at one point. Feyre too stated that there had been some type of pull towards Rhysand when she first laid eyes on him while she was still human. You…You could still have a mate, couldn’t you? It would make things so much easier. So much less lonely. The concept of soul mates in your world gave no absolute certainty that the relationship would work out. Here…in Prythian, on Midgard and probably any where else in this fucking version of the universe there was that certainty. A real and true mate; your person. Someone who was undoubtedly yours, and you were undoubtedly theirs. 

But that was all wishful thinking. Dating was honestly out of the question with the confinements surrounding your existence. It probably didn’t matter really anyways, males here were just as superficial as men in your world. That much was obvious with the way you saw the other males in your life look at…well, not look at you. You eyed the razor again as it hovered above your upper thigh. Sighing, you paused and lowered the razor at your side. With a single tear running down your cheek you stood and placed the small blade back into its secured spot in the makeup bag. 

With another deep breath you looked through the bag’s contents to see if there was anything else you wanted to apply, but paused as you questioned why you should even bother. You knew that you weren’t ugly, but compared to all the other females…makeup on a pig doesn’t make the pig beautiful. Another sigh escaped alongside a tear, taking a lump of the mascara with it. Exasperated, you grab a cloth and decide to forgo the cosmetics altogether and wipe away the kohl entirely. It was still too humid anyway. 

Closing your eyes you begin to breathe deeply. Counting up to ten sets of slow inhales and exhales. Each breath acknowledging the various feelings of self-loathing and letting each of them go. Once complete, you move your eyes away from the mirror and quickly dress in the undergarments and dress that Lucien picked out for you. After securing the dress’ ties around your body in the form of a halter top, you allowed yourself to look up into the mirror once more. Taking another deep breath you begin to brush your hair and clip half of it up and out of your eyes. One more deep breath and you apply a small amount of lotion to your face, soothing the irritation around your eyes from rubbing off the kohl mascara. The final touch consisted of a sheer nude-pink lip butter. Forcing a half-hearted smile you looked at your reflection for a final time that afternoon. While you may never feel wanted, never feel accepted, never feel desired, you couldn’t let it drag you down. You were human and humans aren’t perfect. 

The journey to the ancient library was unlike any of your other trips within the Day Court borders. So far, you had been to at least six libraries. When Helion mentioned a trip to the oldest library within all of Prythian, deep within the desert lands of the Day Court you had expected yet another multi-day carriage ride. Suffice to say you had not expected to be taken down to the docks of the winding river near Helion’s palace. Upon seeing the boat, or rather what appeared more like an oversized canoo, you felt as if you stepped back in time. 

The vessel was long, nearly half the length of a football field, and curved upwards on each end. It almost reminded you of old viking type ships, but it was also different. The ship had two masts, a large one near the stern and the shorter one near the bow. In between the two was a large open air canopy. Sheer drapes of jewel toned purples and reds billowed in sync with the stormy breeze. 

The light and short gusts of air were the only indication of the ship’s movement down the wide and steady river.  You were grateful the storm withheld the release of the torrential down pour locked inside the deep gray clouds looming over the horizon. Every now and again the familiar scent of rain would be carried on the wind as it brushed past. You couldn’t help thinking that the trip would have been brutal if the sun was out in full force. 

Helion and Lucien were deep in conversation, most of which you tuned out as you enjoyed watching the scenery change as the barge floated down the river. Lounging in one of the plush crimson cushions under the wooden canopy you began to hum. The melody started off as a random tune but gradually changed to one of the few songs that were able to be transferred to the new cell phone Ruhn gave you for your birthday. 

You weren’t entirely sure why this particular song entered your mind. It wasn’t as if the topic had been on your mind or even recently discussed. Yet here you were, softly humming three short notes of the opening line. 

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

You kept your voice soft and low. Tall verdant stalks with grassy tufts lined the banks of the river. Every so often the stalks would be interrupted by dark colored reeds and white flowers.   

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

You hummed a few more notes from the instrumentation, closing your eyes as the warm rain scented breeze rustled your hair. 

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

An image of a dark cloaked figure flashed within your mind. The same figure you had seen so often in your dreams. Your eyes snapped open, but the banks of the river remained unfocused as your voice softened further. 

Blackbird, fly

Blackbird, fly

Your heart rate picked up, the figure looming on the edge of bank just out of the corner of your vision.

Into the light of the dark black night 

“You have a lovely voice, my dear,” Helion’s voice was soft as he kneeled next to where you laid. “Though I would much prefer to hear something less…melancholic.” The large male chuckled, his smile shining brightly against his golden brown skin. The High Lord of Day held his hand out for you to take, which you did without hesitation. The dynamic with Helion was much more natural and free than what was between you and Rhysand. Here you didn’t have the constant feeling of walking on eggshells. You didn’t have to watch your words. Your muscles weren’t in a state of constant tension, poised to either run or brace yourself at a moment's notice. No, Helion genuinely cared for you and your well-being. His care towards you made it that much more difficult to keep the truth from him each and every visit. 

“Join us for supper, love.” Lucien called. Taking Helion’s hand, he helped you sit up. A quick glance at the the other male and you noticed how he looked like he was made for the comfortable luxury of the Day Court. You mentally shook the image of the cloaked figure from your mind and slowly stood up from the oversized cushion. Helion held out his arm, which you happily took as you walked together the short distance over to where he and Lucien had been sitting. 

“This looks amazing,” You practically licked your lips as you looked over the spread. The small table held common dishes within the Day Court. Thick stews with various cuts of meats or root vegetables, olives and other fresh veggies, and bits of pliable bread. The scent of the herbs and spices washed away the damp scent of rain. 

“It tastes just as good as it looks,” Helion chuckled, guiding you to a spot in between the two males. You didn’t hesitate in leaning over to grab a piece of the bread and dip it into the flavorful deep red stew. Lucien chucked and followed your lead, also scooping up a hearty amount of the dish into his mouth. A quick flick of your eyes up to his lips caused your own cheeks to blush a soft pink. The desire to hide the blush caused you to angle yourself towards the High Lord, only to see the broad knowing smile shining on his face. 

“What?” You eyed him, reaching for a slice of mango. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while, but your scent,” Helion paused, taking a small sip of his wine. On your other side you could feel Lucien go completely still. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you found yourself a lover in the Night Court.” The High Lord’s grin grew as he watched you freeze, the mango stopping just before it reached your lips. 

“Lover?” You didn’t intend for your voice to sound as high pitched as it came out. “What makes you think I-”

“No need to defend yourself, my dear,” His smile remained soft, reassuring, “I am not judging. It’s in the Autumn and Winter Courts where they frown upon ones right to freely experience the physical pleasures.” He winked, taking another sip from the deep blue glass. “I’ve just simply noticed that there is a slight… lingering citrus aspect. It fades over the course of your stay here, so I know that it isn’t part of your natural scent. So, what’s his name?” 

“The name is of no concern,” You could hear Lucien try to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. Prior to either of you coming to the Day Court you had agreed to not reveal the existence of those from Midgard. However, it seems that the omission finally caught up with you. You hadn’t even considered that Ruhn's scent would somehow mingle with your own. You supposed it would if you had been physically intimate with each other, but simply sharing a space…

“Is that a hint of jealousy,” Helion’s lips broadened further. “I knew you two were close, but-”

“I’m not jealous.” Your eyes traveled back to Lucien as he bit back. Helion simply continued to smile. 

“Ruhn is a friend,” Your voice was soft, hoping that Helion would be satisfied with that information and allow for the topic to move on to another subject. 

“A friend,” Helion set the heavy glass down on the wooden table in the center of the cushions. “He must be a very good friend for his scent to be so strongly mixed in with yours. It is curious though, the citrus is almost familiar…” His deep golden brown eyes bored into you, almost as if he already knew the truth. “I thought I knew all of Rhysand’s relatives.” 

You looked over at Lucien, silently seeking for the best way to respond. You were utterly lost as to how Fae scents worked, but Helion could tell that Ruhn was somehow related to Rhysand solely based on the lingering scent. Lucien placed his own wine glass down on the table. 

“Ruhn is a distant relative,” He admitted. You may have been clueless about scents, but you knew Lucien well enough to hear the tone of an emissary take hold of his voice. 

“Interesting,” Helion continued to study the two of you. You kept your gaze lowered, knowing full well that if you met Helion’s eyes you’d cave at any direct question about Ruhn. “I take it that he is not from the Illyrian side, but the High Fae side.” The Lord of Day leaned in closer to you. “I’m curious what he may have told you about his homeland. It is lovely this time of year after all.” Your head whipped to look at him. A knowing smile spread over his warm features. 

“You…you know about Midgard?” You stared as Helion started to chuckle. Lucien’s groan in perfect sync with the low creaking of the fabric seat below him. “Ah… fuck…I can’t believe I fell for that.” 

“Don’t worry about it, my dear,” He winked. “There are very few that are fully able to resist my charms.” Helion looked over to Lucien, the red head downing the rest of his wine before reaching for another bottle.

“Congratulations,” Lucien’s words were dry, “But for the record, we don’t know much of anything ourselves.” 

“I figured as much,” Helion picked up his own glass. “Rhysand does like to keep his cards close to his chest. Just as he has done ever since…well, that story is not one for me to discuss. Nevertheless, I would very much like to meet Ruhn. Someone has to look out for this beautiful woman’s best interests.” Helion smiled, leaning towards you to pick up a grape from the spread of food. 

The barge continued to float down the river as you all ate. The conversation flowed just as freely. Soon the river reeds gave way and on the horizon was a large old stone structure. Surrounding it was a small village with only a few buildings. The scene struck you as if this place had been forgotten to time. 

“Ah!” Helion stood, an arm outstretched towards the starboard side of the ship. “Welcome to Átoum.”

You had been in the library since the first golden rays of dawn. Thunder from the prior night’s monsoon kept you just on the edge of sleep most of the night. The small mansion you slept in was old stone and none of the same openness of Helion’s palace. The High Lord showed you around the property and through the old library. The library itself reminded you more of a museum and an adjoining archive. The front rooms were spacious and lined with various artifacts such as pottery, old weapons, clothing, and other art pieces. The rooms near the back of the complex held rows upon rows of scrolls and books. This was where you had found yourself for the past day and a half. Hunched over, eyes blurred and tired from reading dust covered pages. 

At one point you stood, just to stretch your legs, allowing your body to just carry you as it saw fit. The shelves of written documents towered high above your head nearly scraping the ceiling. As you walked mindlessly the documents changed from bound books to tightly wrapped up scrolls. Your steps slowed, fingers and eyes trailing along the edges. 

The papyrus was brittle, flakes falling off the edges as you unfurled the scroll. There was no clear organizational system amongst the shelves where you found this particular item. You hadn’t even realized that you had picked it up until it was in your hands and you stood in front of the seat you’d been in for the past day and a half. A quick glance showed a majority of the writing was illegible, the ink faded, cracked, or even missing altogether. 

You unfurled the parchment as carefully as possible, weighing the corners down with one of the previously discarded books nearby. Your eyes scanned over the page immediately catching on the grouped lines that went in various directions. Nearly all of them crossed over or were connected to a single horizontal line spanning the width of the entire page. The section expanded down multiple lines, taking up nearly the first half of the document. Chunks of this section had sadly chipped away over the centuries, possibly millenia, the scroll had sat upon that dusty shelf.

Your eyes continued to scan over the page, carefully unrolling the scroll further. The writing slowly gave way to what you recognized as Norse runes. Your eyes snapped back to the strange rows of mismatched lines above. Upon the second look you realized that you had seen this before, just not in a context that actually conveyed any true meaning. What was it called again? Was it celtic? 

“What the fuck…” You couldn’t stop the hushed question. You continued to review the lettering on the scroll. Each section must have been a testament to the dominant language of wherever this scroll originated. The unknown celtic, Norse, and…Latin. How did this even end up here? Tucked away in an ancient practically forgotten library. To have three different languages written…How old was this fucking scroll? Nothing about this made sense. Was this even from Prythian? 

You knew a small amount of latin, really just enough to make out a few words here and there from when you sang sacred texts in your high school and university choirs. However, the real question was if it would be enough to gain any worthwhile information. Quickly you rushed to grab a blank sheet of paper and quill and searched for the well of ink. 

“Fucking piece of shit…” lifting paper and books you continued your search. “Some goddamn Harry Potter fuckery, writing with a quill…” Finally you found the small bottle of dark ink and returned to your seat, carefully arranging your space to ensure that no ink would spill over the ancient scroll. Meticulously you looked over, analyzing each Latin phrase, rewriting the sentences. Below each word you recognized you added your native language’s translation. You quickly realized that you recognized a lot more than you originally thought. 

From the sparse words you could pick out, your best guess for the contents appeared to be of a story. Given the grandiose and slightly cryptic word choice it made the most sense for it to be a creation myth of some type. You had found many variations of Prythian’s creation myth during your hours upon hours of researching in both the Day Court and the Night Court. You easily recognized the list of elements the Mother placed into her Cauldron to create existence: the Sun, the Moon, Earth, Sky, Water, Darkness, and Fate. However, there was something different. The wording made it seem as if these elements had a certain…sentience, as if the elements were actual deities and not simply aspects of reality. Additionally, there was no explicit mention of “The Mother” or her cauldron. 

“Wait…what is cauldron in latin? Is there a latin word for cauldron…” Setting the quill down, you ran your fingers through your hair. “This is tedious.” As the text continued some of the more faded latin sections were replaced with the norse runes. Groaning, you practically slammed your forehead on the table, the ink in the jar splashing on the wooden table top. “Fuck me…” 

“If you absolutely insist,” Lucien’s voice, while soft, jarred you causing you to jump up from your seat and hit your knees on the edge of the table. 

“Damn you,” A string of curses flew past your lips. Lucien clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disapproval. 

“Find anything yet? Or just another dead end?” Lucien placed his hands on your shoulders, his fingers warming up as he kneaded the stiff muscles. You closed your eyes, humming softly in pleasure as he continued. The massage was just what you needed after sitting hunched over in a chair for so long. 

“I might have finally found something. I guess the seventh trip was the charm,” You chuckle, leaning your head to the side to allow him more space to work. “Though it is too early to tell. I can’t read more than half of what’s on here.” You vaguely gesture to the scroll which had unfurled itself from the table, down to the archaic stone slab floor. Lucien leaned down, placing his chin on your shoulder and looked over the papyrus. His slim fingers delicately running along the lines of text. 

“The fact that you can read any of this is a feat,” His breath sent a shiver down your spine.

“Stop that,” You warned. You felt his grin against the side or your neck. 

“Stop what, exactly,” Again his breath caused your muscles to tense briefly. 

“Breathing down my neck,” You attempted to shake him off, but he didn’t move. “Seriously! It tickles!” You shook your shoulders again, giggling like a damn child.   

“Alright, alright,” Lucien stood back up to his full height before walking to the opposite side of where you sat and pulling a wooden chair to sit beside you. “What does this say?” Sighing, you placed your head in your hands. 

“All I can make out so far is that it's another story about how Prythian was created.” Titling your head you looked over at him. “At least I think it is.” 

“We’ve read dozens of those,” he pointed out, gently bringing the scroll closer for him to observe again despite his inability to read the text. “Anything special about this story in particular?”  You brought the bottom parts of the scroll back up to the table where you sat before grabbing the parchment you used to write down the words you recognized. 

“While I had to study languages as part of my music studies. My Latin outside of the standard sacred texts is extremely lacking. I’m guessing on a lot of this from other languages in my world that are based on this one.” You pointed to the flourished lettering. “There’s mentions of portals, Death Gods and Star Gods, the Earth and other elements. I just don’t see anything about the Mother, which is what makes this different. Of course, I need more time to look it over.” 

“I remember reading that there had been portals several millennia ago. This could be a reference to those.” Lucien paused. “I’ve just never heard of any Star Gods…” He continued to look over the scroll. You followed his gaze, eyes trailing down the papyrus. The scroll gave way to an image of a map, your eyes landing on an eerily familiar word written underneath. Álfheim.  Your breath caught in your throat. There was no way. Absolutely no way. Surely your eyes were playing tricks on you, or this was simply a coincidence. However, something deep within your being told you that this wasn’t a simple coincidence, but something that was completely brought on by fate. 

“Álfheim…” Your fingers traced over the name; eyes glued to the map laying out the various lands including and outside of Prythian. 

Lucien looked up at you with concern on his face. “You’ve… heard that before haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Your voice softened. “Alfheim and Midgard…are names of realms that are mentioned in MY WORLD.”  You continued to scan over the rest of the scroll. Below the map the story appeared to continue. The same repetition of text starting from the configuration of lines transitioning to the runes then transitioning to the Latin. If it weren’t for the spinning thoughts in your mind you would have looked over the text more carefully. You made a mental note to keep this scroll in a safe location and return to it tomorrow. 

“(Y/N),” Lucien’s soft voice brought your attention back. “What was the name of your world again? Earth?” You nodded, silently praying that he would not ask for any clarification as to how your world could be connected. You hadn’t yet told him about the trip to the Prison and what you had discovered there. You shoved those thoughts as far from your memory as you possibly could, only letting your subconscious process the information until you had more evidence. Clearly, something in the universe was screaming at you and you were not to get the luxury of forgetting so easily. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Lucien open his mouth, but before any words were uttered your eyes landed on another image on the scroll. 

“Wait…” You pointed to the image that took up the entire width of scroll. “I know I’ve seen this before.” Tapping on the scroll, you wracked your mind for where you could have possibly seen the image. It wasn’t from the Prison, or anywhere in the Night Court. You thought about the museums that you had been to in your world, but even those memories came up blank. The details were minimal, likely a simplified version of the original piece. It reminded you of a scene on a tableau or medieval tapestry. Three scenes that flowed seamlessly together to create a visual story. Multiple figures frolicing in a field, another group surrounded by an eight pointed star, and yet another set of three. As your eyes scanned over the illustration the scene changed to include multiple figures standing in a circle. The size of the illustration made it difficult to determine, but it almost looked like the figures were standing around a large object. You groaned slightly as the rest of the illustration had eroded away, leaving a hole that extended towards the edge of the scroll.  

Lucien carefully shifted the papyrus to get a better look at the image, “There seems to be some type of inscription.” He pointed at the small lettering immediately underneath the image that reminded you of a caption in a text book. Your eyes followed the length of his long elegant fingers. 

“Cum magicae redit ad terram,” The latin flowed surprisingly easily off your tongue, “Cum mortis umbra non alligatur corpora caelestia coniungunt ad novos imbres.” 

“Care to translate?” Lucien asked. With a sigh, you leaned back against the wooden chair. It was true you understood a few words immediately, but it would take a bit more time to decipher the full meaning. 

“A little bit,” You looked over the words again. “The first part says something about magic and the earth, then…” Your voice trails off.  “Mortis umbra…” Death shadow. Wasn’t Hunt’s nickname the Umbra Mortis? Could this have something to do with those from Midgard? You had heard of the prophecy regarding the Starsword and Truth Teller. Was this another? It certainly seemed to read that way from what little you could tell. 

“(Y/N)?” Lucien’s soft voice and warm hand on your shoulder calmed your mind. 

“Something about a death shadow, or shadow of death and then celestial bodies and new…rain, I think.” With a slight shake of your head you rubbed at your tired eyes. “Lu, I think…I think this is something big.”

“Big?” He chuckled. You could tell that he was equally as nervous about what threat this forgotten scroll could pose. “This is likely another retelling of the creation of Prythian.” You took hold of his hand, squeezing it slightly. 

“No,” You looked him directly in his eyes. The golden one whirring as the gears made the pupil contract. “This is an earlier story. This predates the Mother, Lu. This, this entire scroll, provides an unknown account of how this world, as a whole, came to be. And with it…another prophecy. We need to show this to the others. Bryce, Ruhn, and Hunt can look to see if they have anything like it in Midgard. Just like the prophecy about the blades reuniting the Fae of this world and those that had traveled to Midgard so long ago.”

“I don’t think that will be a good idea,” His voice was hesitant, eyes searching your face. “We don’t-” The sound of someone clearing their throat cut off whatever objection he likely planned to make. Turning slowly towards the sound your eyes went wide, a wave of cold washing over your face. Helion stood just beyond a row of long untouched tombs, arms crossed over his broad chest. He somehow appeared larger than normal. More dominant and…formidable. The most basic human parts of you threw up alarm bells that this was a creature that would kill at the slightest provocation. 

“Call these ‘Midgarians’ here now.” Helion’s voice was low and demanding. Lucien angled his body to create a barrier between you and the powerful High Lord. “Get them, Lucien, and bring them to me.” The male paused for the briefest of moments before he suddenly disappeared. Your throat went dry. He left you…left you entirely alone. “You, my dear, will tell me everything you know and what your real goal has been in exploiting my generosity.”

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

An inky darkness surrounded him. The sound of a soft moan caused his head to shoot up. The sight that greeted him ripped the air out of his lungs. Cast in a single beam of light, stood a woman and a redheaded Fae male. Their lips frantically clashing together in a deep and passionate kiss. The two of them were so lost in each other, completely without a care for who may be watching. Ruhn couldn’t breathe as the light around the couple grew, their features highlighting their identities. 

Lucien’s tongue visibly delved into (Y/N)’s mouth, frantic and wild, as his large hand carefully cradled the back of her neck. Ruhn couldn’t breathe. Lungs burning, he tried to call out. Whatever sound that may have escaped had immediately died in the void keeping him shrouded. 

Soon the kiss shifted, the frenetic energy becoming tender and loving. A soft whine from Lucien was the only indication that he had learned what Ruhn already knew; that the woman tasted like heaven. The cold sting of possessive jealousy shot through him as Lucien’s hands moved down and tightened around her waist. He tried to step forward, but more black strings held him back. The other male’s hands continued to roam and explore (Y/N)’s body, squeezing her hips as she gasped with pleasure. The acidic tang of bile hit the back of his throat the second Ruhn saw her hands move towards Lucien’s waistband. He clawed at the invisible twines holding him back, his shouts lost in the darkness and the ground like an ocean beneath him not letting him gain any footing. 

The dark string at his chest, pulled taut, kept him rooted to the ground. He was completely paralyzed. Unable to move. Unable to interfere and stop her from seeking love and affection from someone other than himself. 

Ruhn knew he fucked up, practically throwing away any potential for a deeper connection with the human. A connection that he’d hoped would form as she worked to break through into the core of his very soul. Just like Daybright had…no, not Daybright. Lidia. It was Lidia he’d lost. He lost her after only being able to see a flicker of the female that she may have truly been. Unlike (Y/N). He had come to know (Y/N). How the fuck was he supposed stop himself from losing (Y/N) too? 

Ruhn remained frozen within the hidden shield of his shadows. His eyes burned while (Y/N) and Lucien continued to share their passion for each other. He tried to move his feet, the string at his chest yanking harshly. He knew what held him back; the memory of a female now long gone. One that gave her life for his. A female who he would have also died to protect. The string hummed the longer he thought of Lidia. He knew what that string represented. He knew fate had brought him and Lidia together the instant they made love in that dream-like state with the comcrystal. Stories and legends all warned that when fate steps in, nothing else compares.

But fate could also be cruel and certainly had other plans. Ruhn lost Lidia. Lost the ability to come to terms with her double agent status. Lost the ability to learn more about the female hidden beneath the persona of The Hind. His mate. The black string hummed in mocking confirmation, pulling him down into the darkness pooling at his ankles. He wondered if he would’ve ever come to terms with any of it, even if she had lived. Wondered if he’d be the stubborn ass he was and simply have shut out the feeling out of spite at all she’d done. To him… to his friends…to his family…

The frigid water felt like tiny needles. Thunder clapped around him and a sudden pain pierced through his chest. A large hole, dull and hollow, grew in the center. Exactly where Lidia had been shot when she leapt from the cliff to escape the pack of bloodhounds she once commanded.   

Ruhn didn’t even have a chance to mourn the shifter before (Y/N) walked into his life. The need to protect her was damn near instant and overwhelming as he took in the sight of her neck; red and raw from her own nails after a nightmare. The image was still clear in his mind. Despite her trauma, or maybe because of it, she showed a quiet resilience in her search for answers and adaptation to a new life.  

Bryce’s instant fondness only made Ruhn gravitate to the human more. Bryce never got to meet the version of Lidia in her role as Daybright. The version that he came to know.  He never voiced it out loud, but in his wildest dreams he wanted his female, his mate, and his sister to be like sisters themselves. He may never know if Bryce and Lidia would have ever been close, but with (Y/N) he didn’t have to wonder. He could hear the echoes of their laughter as the image of (Y/N) and Lucien shimmered. 

He screwed up any chance of actually getting to experience the life he only allowed the deepest recess of his heart to dream. Lidia’s name had slipped out so easily from his lips despite being pressed against the human’s. The string at the center of his chest lowered and expanded in width until a pitch dark canyon formed at his feet. He frantically looked for any way to cross to get to his… his what? What was (Y/N) to him? A lover? A friend? What right did he have to exert any claim on her heart? Not that it would make any difference when she found a way to return to her world. She wouldn’t stay with him given the chance to return home. 

Panic and regret washed over him. Heart pounding wildly as the image of  Lucien and (Y/N) stripping each other naked grew more passionate. Ruhn willed his body to move, to separate them as Lucien freed her breasts from the confines of her sundress. The redhead’s large hands immediately giving them the proper attention that Ruhn knew she deserved. He watched her (e/c) eyes roll back as Lucien took a nipple into his mouth. He watched pleasure take over her features and her hands thread through Lucien’s deep red locks when (Y/N)'s words landed on Ruhn. A soft smile and blush graced her cheeks, “He knows my name.” Her voice sounded sweet, yet had a cruel teasing lilt. The statement echoed inside his mind, over and over.  

“Ruhn?” He ignored the soft feminine voice behind him. His attention solely on the couple making love in front of him. He was completely frozen as the canyon snapped back into a thin black string yanking him off balance. “Ruhn!” The voice kept calling but he ignored it, his focus solely on stopping the atrocity before him.

“Ruhn?” Ruhn awoke with a start, sitting up straight as he frantically looked around. The bedroom he shared with (Y/N) slowly filled his vision. He hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep after returning to the townhouse a few hours ago. Turning his head he found the last person he expected to be in the room standing above him. 

“What the fuck, Lucien?” Ruhn rubbed at his face, his heart rate slowing down. He slowly made his way to the edge of his side of the bed, his back towards the male. The afternoon sun filtered in through the sheer white curtain. 

“It’s (Y/N),” Ruhn immediately perked up at the frightened tone in Lucien’s voice. “She-You need to come with me.”

“What happened?” He demanded, eyes landing on the Starsword as it leaned against a chair. “Where is she?” He searched for his boots, panic almost setting in before he remembered they were at the entrance of the foyer on the ground level. A little behavioral habit that he picked up from living with (Y/N) for so long.  

“The Day Court. Are the others here?” Lucien asked, not bothering to provide any specific information.  Ruhn simply nodded his head as he sheathed the sword in the holster he often strapped to his back. “Good, get them and bring them outside.” The two males made their way out into the hall, Lucien sparing no time for greetings or explanations as he bounded down the staircase. 

“Bryce! Hunt!” Ruhn called out, his mind only focused on getting to (Y/N) as quickly as possible. His sister poked her head out from the spare room she and Hunt occasionally stayed in at the townhouse. 

“Why the fuck are you yelling, Ruhn?”  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her feet padded against the wooden floor. 

“Something’s happened,” Ruhn’s voice was clipped. The other male already on the bottom floor. “Lucien wants us to go with him to the Day Court.” Hunt exited the room behind Bryce, pulling a shirt over his head and wings. The two shared a look as Ruhn quickly made his way down the stairs. 

“Is that the-” Hunt started, but Ruhn cut him off with a shout. 

“I don’t give a shit what Rhysand says!” He continued down until he reached the bottom landing. “I won’t abandon her if she needs me.” 

Lucien paced back and forth on the small wooden platform in the back garden of the townhouse. He knew Helion would not harm (Y/N), even if he was furious at the omission of the real reasons they wanted access to the information held inside the libraries. The High Lord of Day had truly come to care for the woman, almost like a daughter. The access to the libraries, the room within the High Lord’s personal primary residence, the clothing, all of it! His generosity had long stopped being a simple favor to Rhysand. Helion accepted her unconditionally. He saw that Helion came to know the woman’s heart, even if their initial meeting was based upon a hidden truth. Lucien swallowed hard, recalling every instance that truth was withheld over the past five years.

He could only hope that Helion’s trust in them wasn’t completely shattered. Gods, what had he done? Leaving her just like that? With an angry High Lord. Not that Helion’s command gave him much choice in the matter but Lucien had always prided himself in his self control. He knew that it was a matter of time before the High Lord asked questions or uncovered the truth of the woman’s heritage. Their cover—“a distant human kin seeking her roots”—had held far longer than it should have. While it wasn’t unheard of for Fae males to sire children with human females, it was incredibly rare. They had all assumed the ruse was holding well since Helion never once commented or spoken about it. At least not until Helion mentioned scents... 

Fae scents were typically unique to the individual. Only on a few occasions would there be similarities between relatives. So the fact that Helion was able to identify a familial scent between Rhysand and Ruhn took him by surprise. The High Lord never made a similar comment regarding (Y/N)’s own scent. He couldn’t help but wonder if Helion had known all along that she wasn’t fully of this world.  

“Let’s go,” Lucien didn’t bother to look behind him as the three Midgardians entered the backyard. Lucien winnowed them to the Day Court library. The massive surge of magic left his veins hollow with only spare dregs of his power in its natural reserves. The room pulsed, but Lucien was still able to see Helion standing over (Y/N). The High Lord of Day’s large frame appeared to loom over her, casting her into shadow. For the briefest of moments it almost appeared as if the shadows formed a protective circle around her. Lucien strained his ears, hoping to pick up any sound from the weighted conversation between Helion and the human. 

Lucien saw that her once sparkling eyes were now red-rimmed. In that moment, his heart clenched as memories of past dangers and unsaid promises surged within him, reinforcing every vow he’d made to keep her safe. Out of the corner of his deep amber eye, he saw Ruhn push his way forward, making a direct path towards the woman. 

"Are you okay?" Ruhn asked, his voice rough with concern. He inserted himself between her and the High Lord. She managed a small smile, placing a hand on his arm to calm him.

"I’m fine. Just…” She took a steadying breath, wiping the lingering wetness from her eyes as they met with Ruhn’s, “Just explaining to Helion how I arrived in Prythian." Despite the softness of her voice, her words carried a hidden weight. Bryce’s gaze darted to Helion, her lips parting to speak. Before whatever snarky comment she was about to hurl in defense of her friend, Hunt placed a hand on her shoulder, his gray wings rustling as one settled around his mate’s back. Lucien felt something pull at the center of his chest, averting his own gaze as quickly as possible. 

The older male looked over each member of this new group, his usually sun-warm eyes now feeling like hard sandstone. (Y/N) straightened her shoulders, eyes landing on the High Lord. An air of confidence took over her expression as Ruhn’s hand settled on her lower back. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Lucien?” He’d never heard the High Lord sound so cold.

“Bryce Quinlan, Hunt Athalar, and Ruhn Danann,” Lucien declared, extending his arm as if unveiling treasures. “May I present the High Lord of the Day Court, Helion Spellclever.” As uneasy glances passed between Bryce and Hunt, Helion casually gestured for them to take seats at the table (Y/N) had set up for her research, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. Helion sat himself in the wooden chair next to the woman, the action forcing both Ruhn and Lucien to find seats elsewhere. The Autumn male wished for nothing more than to have the ability to reassure her. To speak into her mind, or tug on a- he stopped his thoughts as guilt filled his stomach.

“It’s okay guys,” (Y/N) reassured the group. “He needs to know so he can help. Everything…” She took a shaky but steading breath. “Everything has become so much bigger than we could have imagined.” Bryce again looked at her brother and mate. 

With a deep exhale, Bryce sat herself in a chair across from Helion, leaning on her forearms, “What do you know of High Queen Theia?” 

Helion shook his head, “Not much I’m afraid. When High King Fionn died she disappeared and the land chose seven High Lords in place of a single ruling body.” Bryce nodded before she began her recount every detail from the chaos of her arrival in the Night Court, to the insane forgotten history of the High Queen and her court, to the Daglan that slept beneath the decaying surface of the land that became the Prison.

Hunt swore under his breath. "You didn’t tell me that you had come up against an Asteri when you were first here.” Bryce merely shrugged him off. 

“Azriel and Nesta were with me,” She clarified in a nonchalant tone; though, her eyes betrayed the gravity of her words. “Honestly, Nesta was the one that cut off its head. Which was likely only possible because it had been in a weakened state.” Hunt just stared at her, lips slightly pursed. Bryce continued with her recount, filling Helion in on the history of the Asteri’s rule in Midgard and how the Fae evolved after being separated from their home world. Lucien listened alongside the High Lord. Most of this information he had not even been made aware of.  

When Bryce was finished, Helion leaned back in his seat. “That is quite the story.” His expression remained serious. “Fantastical even.” Helion’s gaze landed on the large blade along Ruhn’s back. “But you have the lost sword with you…” He continued to study the group for a moment longer before his attention returned to (Y/N) next to him. 

“There is something that doesn’t quite fit,” He stated. “Ms. Quinlan has a tie to this world through her heritage. So it begs the question as to how you are connected to this world, my dear.” 

Lucien saw the woman’s shoulders stiffen. That was the very question that had been on everyone’s mind since her arrival. 

“I…” (Y/N) swallowed. “That’s the exact question I am trying to find out. That's why we asked to visit the libraries. To see if there was any connection.”

“And what exactly have you discovered?” His eyes traveled over to the scroll still on the table before her. The entire group followed his gaze. She remained silent for a long time. Confliction and uncertainty scrunching up her features. Her eyes drifted away from the group, but once they landed on Lucien’s once again the furrow of her brows relaxed. 

“The name of this planet, Alfheim” She returned her eyes to the High Lord. “And the name of their planet, Midgard. They are both names of realms that were known to one of the ancient cultures on my planet. I don’t believe that is simply a coincidence. I think…I believe that there was a group of Fae that traveled from Alfheim to Midgard, and then to my world.” She took another deep breath. 

“You didn’t reach that conclusion from names of planets alone,” Bryce’s voice was matter of fact. (Y/N) shook her head. 

“Ruhn’s surname, Danaan,” She looked up towards the ceiling, eyes blinking rapidly. “It’s the name of an ancient race of magical beings called the ‘Tuatha De Danann’. They arrived through the mists on a small island on my planet. As time went on they were revered as Gods for the magic and knowledge they wielded. Through the rise of the Christian religion and persecution of anyone that followed the old ways, it was rumored that the Tuatha De Danann fled and merged into the hills of Ireland. During the era in which I lived, they are often referred to as Fairies.”

The room went quiet. The silence after her admission was as thick as smoke. Even the wind outside came to a stand still. You hadn’t voiced your knowledge and recognition of Ruhn’s name to anyone. The information had been a lot for you to even come to terms with. You carefully ran your fingers along the frayed edges of the papyrus that laid before you, its ancient ink gleaming under the golden glow of the low afternoon sunlight bouncing off various reflective discs scattered throughout the space. The weight of its contents pressed against you, a whisper from the past carried into the present.

“This scroll,” You cleared your throat. “It talks about Alfheim, this planet. I think this is the original story of how the world was created,” You explained, looking up at Helion. “It’s how Alfheim was created prior to Prythian’s worship of The Mother.” 

“Alfheim…” Bryce leaned forward, studying the script carefully. "Can I take a better look?" she murmured, fingers tracing over the Latin, her brows knitting in concentration. She glanced at you, the gears in her mind turning as she pieced together fragments of meaning. 

“I can only understand bits and pieces of the text.” You continued to explain. “It seems to be made up of sections that have been translated over and over again. There’s also an image…” You shifted in your seat and pointed to the middle of the scroll. A simplified illustration sprawled across from one edge to the other. 

Helion, watching with a sharp gaze, stiffened suddenly. He exhaled through his nose, his golden eyes flickering with recognition. "I’ve seen this before." You turned toward him, eyes wide. His expression remained unreadable. "It's carved into the wall of one of the front chambers. A mural of sorts, created long before the High Lords came to rule over the courts."

“Can you show us?” Bryce asked. Helion nodded, standing up from his seat and motioning for the group to follow. 

The High Lord guided you all down the expansive walkway before he began to wind through the rows of massive shelving units. Your eyes drifted up and down the shelves. Scrolls filled the shelves precariously stacked on top of each other. The stacks of scrolls were then replaced by boxes, then books and tombs of various sizes. At the end of the hall Helion lead you through a small corridor. The passage was narrow with small strands of the setting sun’s light streaming through the windows near the ceiling.

The corridor soon opened up to a large chamber with plain colored walls. Scattered throughout the chamber various artifacts rested on pedestals. The first day of your visit to the library, which was more like a museum than a library, Helion and one of the local caretakers took you on a tour. There were numerous chambers just like this one. Each filled with artifacts that transitioned from one time period to the next. Behind you, Bryce’s footsteps slowed periodically. No doubt her eyes caught a few items that she found of interest.     

Finally, Helion rounded another corner into a massive open air chamber. On the far wall, an  ancient mural stretched from the floor to the top of the vaulted ceiling. The air hummed as your group gathered before the great carving, the stone worn but defiant against time.  It wasn’t what you had expected. Deep etched images with bright vibrant colors. You hadn’t ever seen anything like it in museums in your world. You recognized the same configuration of lines from the scroll twisting along the sides and top of the frieze, weaving around the entire mural like an unbroken thread of fate. The various figures carved into the rock felt eerily familiar. 

The worn stone told a story; three distinct scenes woven seamlessly together, yet their meanings were still veiled in mystery. Your eyes traced the first scene—a sunlit field alive with movement. Seven figures graced the landscape, each bearing a striking characteristic of an elemental force. One figure's skin bore the rich, earthen hue of deep clay, as solid and timeless as the Earth itself. Another shone with a brisk, blazing radiance, almost incandescent with the warmth and power of the Sun. A third figure, draped in silver and mystery, evoked the quiet, reflective glow of the Moon. A fourth moved fluidly, their form suggesting the graceful ebb and flow of Water. The fifth was airy and untamed, their lightness echoing the ceaseless expanse of the Sky. The sixth was shrouded in an enigmatic darkness that both concealed and revealed, capturing the essence of Darkness. Finally, a lone feminine figure etched with arcane symbols, stood gazing upon the other six. 

Before your eyes, the narrative shifted. The pastoral beauty of the seven figures, clearly now representations of the elements making up the various aspects of this world, giving way to an empty field. A single jagged line near the top of the image seemed to buzz with an energy the longer you stared. A rift! 

The panel that followed continued to shift, the image darkened as the mural revealed three figures with an unmistakable air of death. Their forms were pallid and austere, cloaked in a somber stillness. The subtle, skeletal lines and the bowed posture of these figures spoke of endings and the finality that shadows all beginnings. A stark reminder of death’s inevitable role in the cyclic dance of existence.

The rift appeared again, this time with eight figures standing below. The figures arranged themselves as points on an otherworldly compass, radiating an unmistakable stellar glow. Their contours were crisp and angular, each figure exuding a brilliance reminiscent of scattered starlight. A visual echo of the cosmos itself. You felt your pulse accelerate as recognition sparked. The eight pointed star on Bryce’s chest, the same eight pointed star on Nesta’s back…

In a culminating tableau, the same seven elemental figures reappeared—this time encircling a colossal, enigmatic object. The exact object was difficult to decipher, the erosion of time having softened the details. But something about it felt important—almost sacred. A part of you, deep within, knew that it was the Cauldron that stood at the center, vast and inscrutable. The surface of the stone image was worn by time yet managed to captivate the hidden power that seemed to bridge creation and dissolution. That’s when it clicked. The text wasn’t just listing off the ingredients for making worlds. This tableau was proof of something much greater that had been entirely lost. What the Mother had put into the Cauldron to create Prythian were not simple ingredients for creating existence. They were deities themselves. They made the cauldron what it was. 

Your eyes scanned along the mural’s expanse, returning to the configuration of eight glowing figures. The Asteri, or more accurately the Daglan as they were known here. Suddenly the text on the scroll made sense. The image showed the arrival of the Daglan on Alfheim. 

“Star gods,” You reached towards the image, fingers hovering in reverence. You quickly turned toward the next group as realization overcame your senses. The other three figures were clearly depictions of the Death Gods also mentioned. What was the connection between each of these groups? In all of the other myths about the Mother and the creation of Prythian, there had been no mention of the Daglan. Nor had there been any mention of Death Gods.Yet here they were, carved into stone. 

Walking towards the opposite end of the large mural you hoped the final panel would provide some indication as to the meaning of the writing that surrounded the images. Only you were met with disappointment. The final details on the last tableau had faded into oblivion. You swore under your breath. The same information was missing on the scroll. 

Bryce’s fingers hovered lightly above the carved stone. "All these details…each of  these characters have such vivid and intricate details. The style is extremely sophisticated, too refined for something less than 1000 years old.” Bryce walked along the large expanse of panels. 

“You’re a curator?” Helion looked at the half Fae female. Bryce nodded, eyes still assessing every inch of stone. 

“Sort of, I worked for a…collector of sorts. A lot of what I know was learned on the job.” Her honeyed eyes left the frieze. “These images are even more detailed than the tunnels. How long ago was this museum built?” 

“To be honest I’m not entirely certain,” He mused, taking a few steps closer, eying the same panel as Bryce. 

“There’s almost something…familiar about this." She exchanged a glance with you. “I need to see that scroll again.” Before anyone else could respond, she took off sprinting back to the scroll room. The others followed suit, running after her with that Fae swiftness. Hunt was the only one that really bothered to keep pace with you. By the time you and Hunt arrived Bryce was furiously writing on the scrap piece of paper you had used for your own notes. 

"This...this part here,” the half-fae female didn’t bother looking up from her task. “It’s talking about the land. Specifically land being restored…" An eerie grin spread across her lips. “Any barren landscapes come to mind for you guys too?” 

“The Prison,” Lucien breathed. “If that truly was the High King and Queen’s seat of power…”

Ruhn studied the fragmented carving, something unreadable in his expression. "Didn’t the Prison become that waste land because of Silene?” Bryce hummed in response. 

“I always interpreted her message to mean that she used magic to corrupt the land,” Bryce continued. “But what if all she did was remove the magic that naturally existed there? That energetic void would need to be filled.” 

“And thanks to the Asteri in the basement, that void was filled,” Hunt finished for her. 

“So if Silene’s bloodline removed that magic, it makes sense that her bloodline would need to restore that magic,” You added. “Rhysand fits that bill…”

“As does he,” Helion nodded his chin towards Ruhn. Speculation churned through the group like a rising tide.  Ruhn was tied to restoring that magic. 

“Then my sister does as well,” Ruhn immediately deflected. “Besides, she has more of Theia’s starlight power than I do. Especially after what happened on Avallen.” 

“Wait, what happened on Avallen?” Your eyes immediately shot to Ruhn. He merely shook his head, an indication that he would fill you in later. 

“Now is not the time to withhold any information youngling,” Helion’s eyes remained hard. Both Hunt and Bryce snorted in trying to hold back a laugh. Bryce cleared her throat as her brother shot her an angry look. You supposed that compared to the rest of the males in the immediate vicinity Ruhn was the youngest at 80 years old. 

 “Queen Theia hid her Starlight power in the Starsword. Helena then hid that in Pelias’ tomb in the catacombs. I claimed it…right before I killed dear old uncle Morven.” Bryce explained. 

“Holy shit, Bryce…” Your eyes grew wide. 

“We have a handle on it (Y/N),” Bryce added quickly. “The Asteri will be held off by someone that knows how to deal with them.” Her tone was more of a warning to drop the subject. 

You huffed, eyeing her before giving in. Nodding you looked at the next line. “Do you know what ‘non alligatur’ could translate too?”  

“It could mean unbound or unchained.” Her gaze lingered for a moment, “ It depends on the words surrounding it. Flynn would be able to provide a more accurate translation.”

“Flynn?” Her brother asked. 

“Yeah, he’s more than just a pretty face,” Bryce smirked. “Turns out he remembers a lot more than expected from his ancient language studies in childhood.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to suggest Flynn come here?” Ruhn sighed. 

“What a wonderful suggestion dear brother,” Bryce batted her lashes with a mocking grin. Hunt merely chuckled. 

“You walked into that one,” He rested a hand on the back of the chair Bryce sat in.  

“Cum mortis umbra non alligatur.” You looked at Hunt, specifically to the tattooed crown winding over his brow. “When death’s shadow is unchained…” Your eyes widened as realization settled in your gut. Bryce nodded in silent agreement. 

“Hunt may be tied to this too,” Her own voice was soft, but she managed to compose herself long enough to the final part of the inscription. “Corpora caelestia coniungunt ad novos imbres—that roughly translates as ‘the celestial bodies bring new rains’.”

“Wait…this isn’t just an account of how the world was created. This is a prophecy.” You whispered. “When magic returns to the earth, and when death’s shadow is unchained, celestial bodies will bring new rain.” For a long, lingering moment, the two of you sat in contemplative silence as the ancient words and the secret they carried wove together their hearts with an uncertain hope. Outside, as the night deepened, the promise of change—both celestial and deeply personal—hung in the air. Their arrival in the world was indeed greater than then all could have anticipated. Ruhn and Hunt’s destinies were entwined with a long forgotten prophecy. 

“How does this all tie together?” Bryce mused more to herself. “Is this a warning about the Asteri returning?”

“That is your world’s name for the Daglan, correct? If this is somehow tied to their return to power,” Helion let out a slow breath, “then this is beyond any single court." His words settled over them, heavy with meaning. "I’ll be calling a meeting of the High Lords," Helion declared, his voice steady, final. "Two weeks from now, in the Day Court. If the Daglan truly are returning...we can’t afford to face this divided."

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @ronibartender @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

“You’re home,” Her voice was soft, muffled by how close her face was to his chest. Ruhn had to suppress the shiver her warm breath generated on his skin.  

“Of course,” He carefully tightened his hold on her waist. “I had no intention of not coming back. Just…took me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would.” She nodded against his chest; however, the softness of the moment was short-lived.

“You fucking jackass!” She perched herself on her elbow before smacking the center of his chest. “Do you have any idea how worried I was last night? Where the hell were you?” Ruhn couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him as he looked at her stern expression. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized through his laughter. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was out with Cassian. Apparently I looked like a kicked puppy, so he thought alcohol would make that better.”

“Don’t blame Cassian,” She narrowed her eyes. “You knew perfectly well that…” She paused, releasing a long breath through her nose. “You know what, you don’t owe me any explanation or apology. You’re a grown male and capable of making your own decisions.” Her eyes returned to his, and Ruhn had the good sense to recognize that there was more on her mind. He knew that a week of active avoidance between them would require work to recover from. 

“I do owe you at least one apology for what happened last week,” He corrected. “That is if you’re willing to listen to me now.”

“Excuse me?” The woman sat up fully. “You could have apologized at any-”

“Would you have actually listened to me before you had a chance to calm down?” He smiled softly. She narrowed her eyes again, but allowed him to continue. “I know that you needed some time.” After a moment she relaxed her expression, laying back down against the pillows. 

“I hate the fact you know me so well,” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling, “But you’re right. I did need that time.” 

“I know,” Ruhn teased, watching as she rolled her (e/c) eyes. He paused before his voice took on a more somber tone. “I am sorry for what I said on your birthday. I didn’t…I never want you to feel like you’ve been forgotten. You mean too much to…everyone here.” He paused, allowing his lackluster apology to sink in. He couldn’t tell her exactly what he revealed to Azriel a few hours ago. He couldn’t tell the woman lying next to him that he was in love with her. Not just yet anyway, not while there were things he needed to figure out if he wanted to do things right. 

“Thank you, Ruhn.” She turned on her side to face him again. “I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful. While there is a lot that needs to be…worked out; I just want things to go back to how they were before. Return to the day to day life with one of my best friends.” Ruhn could tell that her words also held a mixed bag of emotions. He doubted that he knew the subtle twitch of the corner of her lips before curling up into a half-hearted smile indicated she was attempting to prevent tears from springing to her eyes. 

“Friend…yeah” Ruhn paused. “I haven’t been a very good one of those have I? I’ve kept you at a bit of a distance, and that isn’t exactly fair to you.”  

“You went through a lot. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to.” Her voice was gentle. “And I shouldn’t be holding that against you.” 

“That isn’t the reason I’ve held back,” He admitted. “I’ve been so scared that…it's been a few years and fear has ruled almost all of my actions. I don’t want that to continue, at least not with you.” 

(Y/N) nodded, understanding evident in her eyes as her gaze met Ruhn’s. A heavy silence fell between them. Ruhn could tell that she was allowing him time to decide how the rest of the morning would unfold. As the silence in the room pressed on, she remained curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand lazily-and likely absent mindedly-following the geometric pattern of the tattoo spanning from his left bicep to his shoulder and extending down to his left pectoral. 

He wanted to savor this quiet moment. The peace of lying next to her warmth and softness. If there was ever a perfect moment to open up to the human woman, now would be the time. Ruhn recalled that when he first started to share his personal history with Agent Daybright he spoke to her of his father. He would have to start with something different this time. It was only the right thing to do to ensure that he didn’t treat (Y/N) like a replacement.   

“Would you like to hear about my mother?” His voice broke through the comfortable silence. She tilted her head up, a soft hum of confirmation.

“Please.” Her voice was soft as she looked up at him. 

“Her name is Lorin…” As soon as Ruhn began to speak to her about his mother, it was like the flood gates had finally burst open. He rambled from one topic to another, and he certainly hadn’t intended to reveal so much of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. She quietly listened to everything he shared. No judgment or pity filled her eyes. She never interrupted, only nodding occasionally to show she was following him. He even shared a few things that he had not spoken to many people about. Not only did he explain how the tattoos started as a way to cover up scars, but he also told her the meanings that each design held for him. 

A rendition of the Starsword, surrounded by a few simple stars, covered the inside of his left forearm. He recounted the details of his Ordeal, the desperation he felt to find a way to protect his friends, Declan and Flynn, his brothers if he was being honest. On the outer side of the left forearm were roses mixed with thorn covered vines. While he had grown to hate his Father’s villa in FiRo, it had been where he grew up. 

Above that, in the space of his inner bicep, was a simple design of The Embrace. He explained the image depicted Solas and Cthona coming together as one. This led to him talking to her about how each of Midgard’s houses were blessed by or honored at least one of the five major deities from his world. While Solas was the deity for his own House, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had been so compelled to have what was more commonly regarded as a symbol for the House of Earth and Blood inked into his skin. It took him a minute to realize this was the last tattoo he had gotten before their attempt to overrun the Asteri. Shortly after he had started speaking to Agent Daybright. However, he kept that last bit of information to himself as he remembered who Agent Daybright turned out to be…and which House she belonged to. 

He continued to his right arm, a series of braided knots covered the entirety of his right forearm, the design covering the area that held the worst of his scars. The outer bicep depicted a tree, its branches creating an intricately woven knot and its roots a mirror image. A perfect balance above and below. Her hands traced along each of the designs. He thought he heard her muttering to herself as she examined the tree, taking extra care to outline and follow each branch and root pattern.   

“I’ve seen this tree before,” She admitted softly. “Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. It was believed in some parts of my world to be what holds the nine worlds of the cosmos.” The woman paused, and Ruhn could see the gears in her mind twirling. “No… ” With a quick shake of her head she sat up, pushing the covers to the side. 

“No, what?” Ruhn sat up as well, moving to follow her. 

“Where did you get the idea for this tattoo?” She asked, brows bunched up together as she stared at the black ink design. He had yet to add any color to it. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what colors best suited the image. It was one of his more rare black and white dreams where it first appeared. 

“I-I saw it in a dream,” His voice was slightly hesitant. He had never told anyone that before. He always made up some story about seeing it in an art piece on Avallen decades ago. But for some reason, the truth slipped from his lips as he looked at her. 

“What was the name of the deity for that scary house in Midgard again?” Her eyes remained on the roots of the tree as her hands twisted up sheets in front of her. 

“Scary…you mean the House of Flame and Shadow?” Ruhn continued to watch as (Y/N) nodded acknowledgement. “Urd, a Goddess of Fate. While she may be considered more of the patron of that house, all of Midgard honors her in some fashion.” 

“What do depictions of her look like on Midgard?” She finally looked at him. Again, Ruhn could see that her mind was putting together bits of information. Information that he knew she would only continue to withhold. 

“I honestly don’t really know. There aren’t very many pictures of statues of her outside of the Bone Quarter in Lunathion. That’s where her temple is believed to be. Only the dead and necromancers are really allowed over there. Unless you have a death mark. Which are not at all easy to get.”  She nodded again, chewing her lower lip and picking at her thumb nail. Her (e/c) eyes staring off into the distance. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?” His use of her name snapped her out of whatever rumination plagued her mind. 

“Nothing,” She shook her head a final time before a smile took over her features. “We should probably get some breakfast going. You can tell me some more about your Ordeal and the Drop.” 

The months after Ruhn’s apology, things returned to normal for the most part. The biggest change for the better was that your and Ruhn’s friendship improved significantly. He moved all of his belongings back into your bedroom, including things that you didn’t know he still kept in the other room at all. He also resumed sleeping in the bed with you each night. The only exceptions were the times he went to Midgard, which were becoming more frequent. He explained that his friends, Declan and Flynn, had spent months looking on their own for any information regarding the Star sword and Truth Teller. This, of course, resulted in him finally opening up to you about all the events that preceded his capture by the Asteri. Listening to him recount the highlights of the year before you met had never made you feel more grateful for being a person of no importance back on your own world.  

His opening up did have perks as he also filled you in on many of the Fae traditions and life on Midgard in general. You had so many theories running through your head that your attention couldn’t be divided anywhere else when the subject of life on Midgard came up. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you listened to him so intently. The way those blue-violet eyes of his lit up…it was clear that cared deeply for those that had remained on Midgard. He missed them fiercely, his family. That’s really who they all were to him, his family. Despite Bryce and Hunt also being in Prythian alongside him, it was clear that he struggles with being separated from the bulk of his family. You had to suppress the intrusive desire of wanting to be included in that sentiment. Any time the thought arose you found yourself remembering that the events on your birthday were simply a fluke. Just because you grew close with the male, didn’t mean he saw you as anything more than a friend. He was no different in that regard to Lucien, a simple yet close friend. 

It was a strange concept to think about. You had been in Prythian for nearly five years, and you still felt like an outsider. An intruder posing as someone who is supposed to belong. To anyone looking in from the outside it would look that way. Nanny for the High Lord and Lady, friends with the first Valkyries in centuries, and routinely seen around Velaris with the elusive and infamous Shadowsinger. Regardless of what they all said or how close you had become over time, you could still feel the tension from where you were kept at a distance. You couldn’t exactly blame them either. You were mortal. You would die in just a few short decades while the rest of them would continue to live on for centuries if not millenia. 

The only person that you knew, with absolute certainty, saw you as an included member of their life was Nyx. You were well aware of how much the little heir adored you, and you adored him in turn. Knowing that there would be at least one person- 

The landing of Hunt’s feet on the cobblestones outside the townhouse distracted you from further diving into a downward spiral. The crunching of stone was followed by the beating of wings as he took off again, likely to get whomever he had left over at the Moonstone gate they built at the Sidra’s edge near the River House. No sooner than hearing the angel take off again did Bryce burst through the front door. 

“(Y/N)!” Her voice held an excited sing-song lilt. The corner of your  lip twitched up as she rounded the corner from the foyer into the parlor. Bryce’s crimson hair flowed around her, reminding you that despite her half human heritage she looked fully Fae. You tried to push the faint sting of envy, reminding yourself that she doesn’t exactly enjoy that half of her heritage. Though you knew she’d be grateful when she finally realized her long life span will allow her to have as much time with her mate and found family that many humans crave.  

“I have a surprise for you,” Bryce continued, bringing a wrapped gift box out from behind her back. The absolute look of mischievous glee on her face was the only thing that gave you any pause. You still took the fairly large box from her outstretched arms before the two of you resumed sitting on the sofa. 

“What is this? My birthday was six months ago and it’s not yet solstice,” You asked, eyeing the perfectly square package. Nothing about the box or its wrapping gave away what the contents could possibly be, and there wasn’t anything that either of you had specifically discussed her getting from a more “modern” world. 

Bryce had been kind enough to obtain some basic feminine essentials for you during some of her past trips to Midgard. You were extremely grateful for her efforts in gathering a variety of period products for you. You spent your first few cycles bleeding through scraps of cloth and felt like you were practically confined to your bedroom and the ensuite bathroom. You quickly decided that you did not want to spend a week every month in that condition. While you had asked the females in your new life how they managed their own cycles, Nesta explained that High Fae only experienced two cycles a year. Due to the infrequency of cycles the pain was reported to be nearly unbearable and resulted in many females being completely bedridden. Nesta also confirmed that scrap linens were the preferred method of keeping things clean for humans and Fae alike, regardless of the financial resources available. 

“Just open it,” Bryce encouraged, plopping the box into your lap. “Especially if you don’t want the guys to see what’s inside.” She tapped the top of the box, a shallow sounding thud indicating that the box was entirely filled with only the Gods knew what. You lifted the box, examining the meticulous wrapping. Each corner of the golden paper was tucked in tightly and secured. 

“What the hell did you get then?” You narrowed your eyes in her direction as you held the box up to your ear and began to shake it. “Doesn’t Hunt know anyway?” You set the box down when it didn’t make any sounds. 

“Nope,” Bryce chirped. “If he did, he would not have let me give that to you.” Her smile grew as she patted the box again. 

“Okay, now I’m worried.” You eyed her warily, your fingers subtly twitching against the smooth surface of the paper. “Do I even want to know what this is?” 

“Yes, you do.” She moved closer to you on the couch. “I can say with absolute certainty that some, if not all, of the items in there will be…useful in the future.” Her amber eyes shone as bright as the starlight that simmered under her light bronze skin.  You rolled your eyes at her playful insistence and quickly tore open the golden wrapping. The box itself was fairly nice, sturdy and could be easily kept to hold whatever its contents already included. 

“I swear to whatever is holy Bryce if this is some-” The words immediately died on your tongue and your jaw literally dropped. Bryce erupted in a fit of giggles at seeing your shocked expression. Inside the box was a plethora of items that made up what you could only describe as a ‘family planning care package’. You could admit upon immediate inspection that at least half the items in the box would be useful. PH balancing feminine wash, extra sanitary pads, a few reusable menstrual discs and cups. The other items…well, she was right that you definitely didn’t want anyone else seeing the contents. Especially Ruhn. You didn’t know how you’d explain the presence for the large box of condoms, two decently sized bottles of lubricant, two packages of pregnancy tests and…

“Ovulation tests? Are you fucking kidding me Bryce?” You wanted to be mad, but her laugh was too infectious. You fell into your own fit of laughter right alongside her. Through your laughter you took another look at the box of condoms.

“Fucking hell, how much sex do you think I’m going to be having?” You held up the box of condoms, a variety pack, and began to examine it. “One hundred condoms? Really?” You shook the box at her for added emphasis on just how ridiculous the item was. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure that one of my closest friends had everything that she would need.” Bryce managed to defend through her continued laughter. “Especially if she is going to continue sleeping with my brother.” 

“Bryce! You know perfectly well Ruhn and I are not like that,” You placed the care package in between the two of you while the box of condoms remained in your grasp. 

“Sure, whatever you say,” She smirked, the deep red of her lip stick amplifying her mischievous tone. “Then this can all be for whenever you do meet that special someone, which you will.” She held up a finger to silence the objection which was poised on the tip of your tongue. “I know this, because you’d be-” 

“A novelty, Bryce. Anywhere I go in this city I am looked at as a novelty.” Your voice took on a slight edge. “I am the only human living in the Night Court. Hell, I’m the only human living in all of Prythian.” You sighed, setting the box of condoms in your lap. 

“Which is exactly why I picked a variety pack,” She smirked, completely ignoring your statement. Your eyes followed her elegant finger as it pointed to the side edge of the box.  “Glow in the dark.” 

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Your laughter returned and doubled as you read the words on the box, directly under the list of flavors making up a quarter of the box’s contents. Tears of laughter quickly filled your eyes as Bryce broke down right beside you on the couch in the parlor. The two of you were so busy laughing that you didn’t hear Hunt return with Ruhn in tow. 

“What are you two so giggly for?” Ruhn smiled from the entrance to the parlor. Still facing Bryce your eyes went wide, the box of family planning items still opened between you and the half fae female. Without even needing the ability to speak mind to mind, Bryce immediately started helping you repack the box with lightning quick reflexes. 

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” You shouted, sliding the box under the couch. Once it was fully tucked away you looked up at the male. Your jaw dropped for the second time and gasped, “What the fuck did you do to your hair!” You stared at Ruhn, eyes watering as you stood to meet him. The past two months Ruhn had allowed the hair on the shaved side of his head to fill in. You had been unsure as to why, but now you knew. You lifted your hand to the right side of his head, where the beautiful waist length locks had once flowed. 

“I know,” Ruhn brought his hand up and gently grasped your fingers. His hair was short, equal in length on both sides. The style honestly reminded you of Azriel’s typical cut. However, the fresh cut combined with Ruhn’s features made his resemblance to Rhysand all the more striking. 

“You’re not sleeping next to me when you look like him,” There was no laughter in your voice. 

“It will grow back, don’t worry,” He reassured, his fingers interlacing with yours as he led you both back to the couch. His arm easily fell along the back of your shoulders as he leaned in to kiss your temple. You felt your lips twitch trying to suppress the smile. Your friendship had certainly gone back to normal, yes, but there were times when he was a little more affectionate than before. Just like he was right now. From the corner of your eye you saw Bryce’s wide knowing grin. You’d have to remind her, yet again, that your relationship with Ruhn was platonic. Even though a small part of you wanted the dynamic to go in a more romantic direction. 

“I tried to tell him he didn’t need to cut it that short,” Hunt joined in on the conversation, sitting himself on the arm of the couch behind Bryce. His own hair also appeared freshly cut compared to the last time you saw him. 

“And steal your and Cassian’s signature look? I don’t have the wings to pull it off, ” Ruhn joked, his blue-violet eyes turning towards you. “Besides, it's not exactly like I wanted to cut it.”  His thumb gently stroking the sliver of exposed skin on your shoulder. 

“So why did you?” You asked, your hand reached out again and this time he allowed you to pinch a few strands between your fingers. 

“Well, I had planned to just grow it all out.” He answered, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “But that prick was right. Even with the long hair I’d be too recognizable.” You bunched your eyebrows together as you looked between them. 

“Our father,” Bryce supplied, her tone now short and clipped. You nearly choked on air at the news. A sinking feeling in your stomach had you anticipating that this last trip was much more eventful than any of their previous trips to Midgard had been over the past few years. 

“Your father?” You angled your body towards Ruhn. “You saw him?” 

“Yeah, and we actually had a fairly interesting conversation,” Ruhn admitted. 

“If you count not immediately being turned over to the Asteri as interesting,” Hunt added, a slight smirk on his lips. You blinked, trying to prepare yourself for whatever asinine reasoning they could have had for going to such a well guarded location such as the Autumn King’s villa given their high profile fugitive status. 

“Why would you even risk a trip like that?” You focused your attention on Ruhn, even though you were fairly certain the entire meeting was likely an impromptu affair by Bryce. Both siblings had told you all about their respective histories with the selfish male that sired them. It went without saying that you had no desire to ever meet the asshole. “How do you know that he isn’t planning to just turn you in the second you all get back to Midgard? What was so important that you had to risk-”

“Easy sweetheart,” Ruhn reassured, his arm bringing you closer to his frame. “We had very good reason, and at this point seeing him and getting the information we got out weighed the risks.” He met your eyes, his expression soft as he tried to subtly comfort your worries.  

“Fine,” You relented. “What did you learn then?” You settled back into your spot on the couch as you waited for them to explain.

“We learned what the Star Sword and Truth Teller may be able to create when used together,” Bryce answered. “Something that may be able to destroy the Asteri.” Her voice no longer held any hint of the playful spirit it had moments ago. You sat up straighter. This was news you had not anticipated hearing. In fact, you had hated to admit that you long gave up any hope that you would live long enough to hear any good news for your friends in their efforts to rescue their world. If the blades could truly be combined to destroy the Asteri, well that was worth risking a visit to their father. Honestly, that was information worth risking everything. 

“What…” You were at a loss for words. “W-what can they do?” Your voice was hesitant, and you hoped that they didn’t see the true reason behind your question. You knew it was important for them to be able to go home. You also knew that once the Asteri were gone, the three of them would return to Midgard permanently. You tried to stop the thoughts of how much you would lose if the trio left Prythian so soon. Specifically, the loss of one of the people that had become so important to you. The fact that you didn’t want to be parted from Ruhn permanently hit you like a ton of bricks. It was only Ruhn’s gentle squeezing of your shoulder that pulled you back to the moment.  

“Legend has it the two blades are supposed to open a portal when combined,” Bryce’s voice was eerily calm, “Specifically, a portal to Nowhere.” 

“What?” You stared at her, waiting for a punchline that never came. “Nowhere? Really? You’re telling me the giant skull of a deceased Celestial is real and floating around somewhere in the universe?” All three of them looked at you as if you had morphed into said giant skull. “Guardians of the Galaxy? Come on, you don’t have the MCU or Marvel comics in your world?” While Bryce and Hunt stared at you with confused expressions, you could make out the subtle twitch of Ruhn’s lips as he suppressed a desire to laugh. “Nowhere is the name of the skull in the Marvel Cinematic Universe…or multiverse…point is I was trying to be funny.” 

“You are funny,” Bryce’s lip finally curled up in a half smile. “At least I assume you are when your audience knows what it is you’re referencing.” You gave her an exasperated smile before tilting your head back and groaning.  

“Okay, so what the hell does your father mean by ‘Nowhere’ then?” You asked leaning back against the couch. Ruhn’s arm remained draped over your shoulder, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes along your skin.  

“Unfortunately the fucker was less than helpful in that regard,” Bryce’s good humor was gone again at the reminder of the Autumn King. 

“She means that he wasn’t entirely sure,” Ruhn clarified. “All he found on the subject was what the blades were supposed to do and nothing more. However, he indicated that maybe the Fae archives on Avallen held more information that he had yet to locate.” You couldn’t suppress the snort quick enough. Hearing the name of the island where the Fae first settled on Midgard always amused you. Another item to the growing list of similarities between your world and theirs. 

“Well that is maddeningly unhelpful,” You shook your head softly and pulled your legs up onto the couch. You leaned your body closer to Ruhn’s. 

“Yes, but there is one positive.” Hunt gently reminded both siblings. “He already had Flynn and Dec looking in the archives.” 

“They didn’t even find anything useful,” Bryce countered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yes they did,” Ruhn snapped. “The series of maps they found-”

“Show nothing but the fact that land masses change over millennia,” Bryce spat. 

“Bryce,” Hunt’s calm tone cut through their bickering. “It may not have been what we were hoping to find, but the information is interesting.” Hunt took a moment to look towards you. “Dec and Flynn found maps of Avallen, some of which included smaller islands that had since disappeared. The disappearance of the smaller islands wasn’t over thousands over years, but within a couple of decades, which makes the information interesting.”

“Yeah, land masses don’t change that quickly Bryce,” Ruhn added childishly. You smacked his chest before shushing him. His sister responded with her own equally childish response of sticking her tongue out in Ruhn’s direction. 

“That is interesting,” You looked between Ruhn and Hunt. “But I’m with Bryce on this. How is that information relevant to defeating the Asteri?” 

“It likely isn’t relevant,” Hunt conceded. “But the land where the Starborn Fae settled in Midgard underwent massive changes and significant loss of fertile land. I don’t think that’s a coincidence when their former home underwent similar changes.” 

“The Prison island…” Your voice trailed off as Hunt nodded, a soft approving smile on his face.

“I told you she was smart,” Ruhn boasted. “Hunt and I came to the same conclusion. Something caused the islands to become barren.”

“Well according to that magical hologram Silene left, the land was reduced to its waste land status after she made it into the prison,” Bryce added. “A collection of nasties poisoning all traces of life apart from themselves.” You felt the gears turning in your mind. It was hard to argue that both islands would become practically devoid of life around the same time by chance. The list of potential reasons was endless. Anything from a saturation of dark energy to a specific spell to a lack of magic entirely. You also speculated that perhaps Midgard and whatever planet you were currently occupying were mirrors or alternative versions of each other. Though, there was more evidence that both worlds were part of the same universe rather than some type of multiverse bullshit. A confirmation of the existence of a multiverse was not quite on your bingo card for expected life experiences. Then again, neither was going through a magical portal and landing in a world that you- 

“Bryce, you need to take me to the Prison island again.” You turned to face her fully. “Please. I don’t care what Rhysand says, I need to see the island and those tunnel carvings for myself.” The half-fae female looked at you, her eyes studying the determination on your face. 

“Alright,” Bryce’s conspiratorial smile returned. You knew that she enjoyed any opportunity to piss off the High Lord. “When do you want to leave? We can even go right now if you want.” She stood from her spot on the couch.  

“Oh no,” Ruhn immediately stated, also standing from his spot next to you on the couch. “You’re not going by yourselves.” 

“I agree,” Hunt looked at Bryce. “I know that you’ve been down there several times now, but you’ve made the Drop and you’re a badass, but…(Y/N) is human.” He softened his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you Alphaholes for fucking real?” Bryce scoffed, hands immediately going to her hips. “She has daily training with two 500 year old warriors AND the two of you. You really think that she’s not a badass in her own right by now?” Despite Bryce’s faith in your self-defense skills you knew Hunt was right. Your eyes met Hunt’s, his expression reflecting what you knew was true. You may be able to defend yourself in some scenarios, but your body couldn’t heal itself in the same way if you were to get injured. The chances of you surviving any major injury were significantly smaller. However, the reminder that you were simply a fragile human stung nonetheless. 

“Yeah, I am being ‘for real’,” Ruhn met his sister’s glare. “We have no idea what kind of creatures are in the prison. We also don’t exactly know our way around apart from a single path down to that room leading to the tunnels.” Bryce rolled her eyes. 

“Well I can’t teleport more than two others plus myself. So unless you’ve managed to finally learn long distance travel through your shadows you might be stuck here as look out Big bro,” Her smile was less than friendly.  

“She needs protection Bryce, and no offense to Hunt, but if she went down he’s more likely to protect you than her,” Ruhn looked at the angel. You watched in silence as the two males just stared at each other. The two of them were clearly having a mind to mind conversation. 

“You know it's rude to have a private conversation in front of others,” You quipped, trying to help ease the tension from before. You turned and started to make your way to the staircase. “I’m going to get a warmer coat so the two of you had better figure out who's going with us by the time I get back.” 

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

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@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

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@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella

“Could you help me?” Her voice sounded distant. She turned her back towards him, lifting her hair away from the ties that secured the deep red dress to her frame. He hummed his acknowledgment and pulled at the laces, loosening the dress. He caught sight of a strip of vivid blue-violet fabric stretching across her back. Her hands quickly grasped the front of her dress, pressing it to her chest to keep it from falling. She nodded her thanks and rushed into the bathroom to finish undressing. 

Ruhn started to undress himself as well, unbuttoning the dark silver cotton blend dress shirt that he wore. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his socks when he looked up into the mirror on the dresser directly in front of the bed. His breath caught in his throat. The door to the bathroom had not shut all the way, a fact that she must have been unaware of as she pranced around in the sinfully sexy lace bra and pantie set. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was something she picked out for herself, or if his sister had yet again decided to meddle. It wouldn’t be the first time. He couldn’t help but notice the color of this particular set was his favorite color. 

Ruhn knew he should have looked away. That he should have stood up and turned around to give her that privacy, but he simply couldn’t. Instead, he sat on the bed with his bare chest exposed and just watched. She was so beautiful. Not just on the outside, no. He saw how beautiful her heart and mind were as well. Her compassion and resilience were aspects of her being that he respected and adored. 

She moved with grace as she set about removing her makeup. He had to bite his lip to suppress the longing groan as he watched her bend over the sink. The lace panties high enough to expose the delicious curve of her ass cheeks. Thank fucking Urd she couldn’t smell his arousal, but she would be able to see and feel his hard cock if he couldn’t get a hold of himself. 

He shook his head, resisting the urge to physically slap himself to get moving again. He quickly undressed, remaining in his boxer briefs. Their shared body heat always seemed to keep him warm enough. She certainly never complained about his lack of apparel either. The thought made him smile slightly. Plus, it wasn’t like he could easily pack up his former belongings with his old house being watched. And he had seen no point in purchasing any new pajamas from any of the vendors in Velaris, even though Rhysand did supply him with a decent paycheck. What he was being paid for he honestly didn’t quite know. He held no official title that he was aware of, and apart from training with Cassian and Azriel the only thing he did was care for (Y/N). But that wasn’t a job. As far as he was concerned he was just spending time with his friend. 

Ruhn could hear her feet pacing back and forth on the tiles of the bathroom. Wordlessly he went over to the dresser and pulled out one of her nightgowns. Truth be told he’d much prefer her to join him in bed with the outfit she currently had on, even if he had no plans to touch her without her permission. But he knew that she preferred to be a little bit more covered. Ruhn gently knocked on the door, careful to face away so as to give her a semblance of privacy while he held out the silk nightgown. She took it from his grasp, giving a small thanks.  

This had also become part of their routine. If she intentionally forgot her night clothes or not, he didn’t mind helping her in this way. He knew that she was dressed when the door opened the rest of the way. He immediately noticed that the blue straps of her bra were nowhere to be seen alongside the thin straps of the nightgown.  He had to take a deep breath to calm himself knowing that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He slipped into the room next to her so that he could wash his face and brush his teeth. The whole scene was perfectly domestic. 

A part of him longed for more, but he didn’t want to overstep or make any assumptions on her feelings. Especially after her forced separation from Lucien. It had taken several nights of restless and disturbed sleep before she felt comfortable having Ruhn close to her. He didn’t mind waiting until she had become comfortable. 

He would wait as long as needed. He had his own shit to sort through, much of which he just pushed to the side. He had his theories about the last female he even thought of getting close to, before she turned out to be someone that he considered an enemy. But (Y/N), he knew that she didn’t deserve to be compared to anyone else. So he kept finding things about her that were completely different to ensure that his feelings for her were not an attempt to fill a hole that had been left behind. 

Ruhn had grown close to the woman over the past few years together. There was no doubt in his mind that she was important to him and everything that was going on. He believed that he must have been equally as important to her since she had been more receptive to his attempts to comfort her. He honestly found it difficult to keep his hands to himself most of the time. There was something about being in physical contact with her that he craved. Even if that contact was as fleeting as a quick kiss to her brow, he needed her. And on the rare occasions that she returned the gestures, he felt more grounded than he had in his entire life. She brought him a sense of peace that he would be eternally grateful for. Especially since he never got to experience this feeling with - no he would not think about her. Lidia was gone. It was as simple as that, and nothing more.There was no sense comparing all that he had in his life now with something that was entirely unknown.

He shook his head, ridding his mind of the shifter’s memory. At least for the time being. His focus returned to the human standing next to him. Her head tilted to the side by a fraction, studying him. Ruhn took the opportunity to pull her into a hug and kiss the top of her forehead. Lacing her fingers with his, they made their way back to the bed. Pulling back the covers he climbed in, and she soon followed. Most nights they would fall asleep simply laying next to each other. Tonight however, she rolled on her side to face him.

“Everything alright?” He asked, lifting his arm to create a space for her. Tentatively she curled up next to him, eyes seeking permission to rest her head on his chest. He curled his fingers, beckoning her to come closer.  

“I’m just in my feelings,” She admitted, her arm wrapped around his torso and her head resting on the space between his shoulder and pectoral. He wrapped his arm around her back, resting his hand on her hip. She let out a deep relaxed sigh. He hummed in response, moving his thumb in a soothing gesture. He knew her well enough to know when she didn’t feel like talking about a subject. So, if silent comfort was what she needed then that is what he would give. Not long after his eyelids began to droop and he drifted off to sleep. 

A soft melody drifted and wound its way through the townhouse like a withered visage of a specter. The melancholic chords of a piano slowly brought Ruhn to an awakened state. He stretched his arm out across the bed, in hopes of curling it around the soft feminine figure whose warmth he’d grown accustomed to. Only that side of the mattress was cold and empty. 

With a jolt his senses went on high alert. It took a moment for his mind to process that the music was not from his imagination, but from within the townhouse. There was only one person that would be playing the instrument, (Y/N). Nyx had asked her to sing at the most recent Winter Solstice celebrations, to which she nervously agreed. She shared a few songs that she said were from her world’s winter celebrations. Apparently not all humans strictly celebrated the Solstice, but something called Christmas. She accompanied herself on the piano that night and took to practicing ever since. 

With his adrenaline subsiding he slowly climbed out of bed and proceeded to make his way downstairs to check on the human manipulating the ivory keys. He pulled the shadows that waited on the edges of the room towards himself, readying them to strike any threat that may be waiting, tricking him into believing that she was safe. He didn’t know why he suddenly thought that she could be at risk in one of the safety places for her, but the concern was there nonetheless. 

The halls were dark as he made his way through, following the sound of the piano. By the time he reached the door of the small library on the ground floor he was able to make out the familiar sultry voice of (Y/N)’s singing.  He released a breath, comforted by the reassurance that she was safe.  

It's not simple to say

Most days I don't recognize me 

With her attention on the keys of the piano, the woman hadn’t noticed him entering the small space. While she tried to keep her voice low, it carried and resonated throughout the entire home. 

It's not easy to know

I'm not anything like I used to be

Although it's true

I was never attention’s sweet center

I still remember that girl

Ruhn enjoyed listening to her voice. The warmth that it embodied reminded him of the nights they spent curled up in blankets by the fire together. 

She's imperfect but she tries

She is good but she lies

He watched as her expression changed from concentration to sadness. 

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won't ask for help

His breath caught in his throat as he listened, the lyrics carrying a certain unspoken weight. 

She is messy but she's kind

She is lonely most of the time

He marveled at the way she navigated from one part of her voice to the next. Seamless despite the weight that her sadness must have added. 

She is gone but she used to be mine 

His heart clenched as she finished the first chorus. It quickly became obvious that her playing and singing was more than just a source of entertainment. She needed this. He realized that music was her outlet. Many of the Fae had a natural love of music in some way. Her affinity could be yet another indication that she truly had Fae heritage, even distantly as they all suspected. While he was no musician himself, he was still intrinsically drawn to its beautiful complexity. Lilting melodies, full and robust harmonies, and driving beats all stirring parts of him that made him remember he was alive. He enjoyed music, but (Y/N)? In this instance she was music. Her entire body became much more than just an instrument. It was a vessel. One that embodied everything she was feeling, calling it to the surface and expelling it in a beautifully sonorous experience. 

And you're not what I asked for

If I'm honest

I know I would give it all back

For a chance to start over

Her voice built, commanding that it be heard. Ruhn decided that he loved hearing her voice and would encourage her to use it at every opportunity. 

For the girl that I knew 

Who’ll be reckless just enough

Who can hurt but

Who learns how to toughen up when she's bruised

And gets used by a man who can’t love 

He couldn’t help but wonder if some of these lyrics held any specific meaning for her, or if it was the overall message that she resonated with. He was slightly aware that she had a past with ex-lovers. She didn’t really provide much in the way of details, but he knew she had been hurt. He was also aware that she often didn’t feel worthy of being truly loved, often having been used. Ruhn decided that he would ensure that she never felt that way with him. 

To fight just a little

To bring back the fire in her eyes

That's been gone but it used to be mine 

She closed her eyes, tears slipping out and descending in salty trails down her cheeks. The impassioned resonance of her voice rattled every surface of the room as she held the note. He felt every ounce of the turmoil and longing that she had been holding inside. The gravity of the loss she was experiencing. It was pouring out of her, crashing against his senses much like the way Lidia had raged against his mental shields that week in the Asteri’s dungeons.   

Used to be mine

Ruhn wanted to kick himself. Why did he suddenly think of Lidia again? The two were so different from each other. At least that’s what he thought. He never really got to know the female that risked her life for him. He did know (Y/N). Knew that she would do anything to protect those she loved. Whether through fierce words or use of the physical training she still attended daily, she was a protector with an occasional hairpin trigger. So why was he making any connection between the woman in front of him and the female that… The thought left his mind as (Y/N)’s voice cut through his defenses. 

She is messy but she's kind 

She is lonely most of the time

Her voice became brittle and shook from an exhaustion that he found himself all too familiar with. The sad smile on her lips dampened the impact her words had just moments before filled the small library. The next chord was one of finality. The soft tones clung to the air, just as tears clung to her eyelashes. 

She is gone but she used to be mine

Ruhn watched from his spot near the door as she finally looked up from where her hands continued to rest on the keys. Tears streamed down her face, and for the first time in the years he’d known her she didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. She didn’t hide her sorrow, allowing him to fully see her heart and how it was breaking. He knew she was struggling, but he had no idea she was in this much pain.

Something inside him knew that she wouldn’t shy away if he approached, so he didn’t hesitate to walk across the room to be by her side. He was in front of her in just a few quick strides. There wasn’t much room on the piano bench for the two of them to sit in a way where he could hold her close. So, after a quick glance about the room he spotted the large plush reading chair.

Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet and along towards the chair. He noted that the chair, while surely an amazing place for her to curl up with a book, wasn’t exactly wide enough for her to sit with her legs crossing over his lap. It didn’t make a difference though; he knew that she needed to be held to feel at ease. At least, that was how it always was when she woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night. 

Typically, he would hold her as they lay on the bed together. His fingers either tracing along her skin marveling at how soft and supple it was or buried in her hair gently tugging on the strands just above the back of her neck. The action often allowed her to feel relaxed. It all depended on the level of security and protectiveness she needed to feel that night. Ruhn quickly surmised that tonight the best way to hold her would be for her to sit directly in his lap.

So, after settling on the chair, he pulled her towards him, guiding her to straddle over his hips. She complied, no hesitation in her movements as she made herself as comfortable as possible. Her nightgown inching up her thighs, revealing her skin as the fabric halted just below her hips. Her legs were able to slide in between his thighs and the arms of the chair, but just barely. He didn’t mind the pressure of her legs against his thighs, the feel of her body pressed against his helping to ground him as usual.

With near perfect practiced synchronicity Ruhn wrapped as much of himself as he could around her voluptuous frame. One hand slid along her lower back, providing support as it reached toward her hip. While the other slipped up her spine, fingers splayed out between her shoulder blades. He felt the small bumps rise along her warm skin. Her own arms wound around the top of his shoulders, her hands threading themselves into his hair. He let out a relaxed sigh at her touch, his breath ruffling her hair. She leaned forward and their bodies melded into each other’s. From this position, Ruhn would be able to easily pick her up and carry her back up stairs if needed. 

With her face buried in his neck, she continued to silently cry. The wetness from her tears contrasted with the warmth of her breath against his skin. Her nose grazed just underneath his ear. He wanted to believe that his scent was somehow calming to her as her muscles relaxed the longer they sat in that position. Eventually, she broke the silence.  

“Today was my brother’s birthday,” She whispered. Her shuddering breath fanned across his neck sending the briefest of shivers through him. Ruhn wasn’t sure how to respond, or if he should respond at all. He opted to remain silent, instead taking one hand and tenderly rubbing it along her back. She moved her own arms from around his neck to wrap them around his torso before fully relaxing into his hold on her. Ruhn smiled at the fact that their positioning probably made her look like an overgrown child. Urd knows that he caught her holding Nyx in the very same position many times trying to get him to calm down.

“My brother should be 30,” She continued. “I-I had never missed his birthday before…now I’ve missed three.” Her voice cracked from trying to keep her emotions in check and holding back her sobs. Tears still flowed, but Ruhn could tell that she was on the verge of breaking. With a kiss to her temple he let her continue all the same, knowing that she needed to process through her feelings.

“How many more am I going to miss?” She sucked in a harsh breath. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to go home.” Her body began to tremble slightly, a signal the dam was ever closer to breaking. His hand continued to rub her back as his other squeezed at her hip, silently letting her know he was still listening. She didn’t need words from him anyway right now. He had quickly learned how to tell when she wanted his opinion on matters versus just silent comfort. 

“I miss my family so much,” The words tumbled out, nearly blending in with the sob that she finally allowed herself to release. Ruhn pulled her closer to him and he felt her fingers press deeply into his shoulders. She gripped him as if he was the only thing preventing her from shattering entirely. He recognized that she held a quiet strength, but in his arms she suddenly became the most fragile thing in the world. Everything inside him wanted to protect her. To shield her from the pain and grief of losing everything she held dear.   

“But it’s not just them I miss,” She continued through her sobs. “I miss everything about the life I had.” Ruhn listened as she continued to vent. She talked about how close she was to finishing her dissertation, years of dedicated hard work and research now felt wasted. She also talked about her recent promotion, finally allowing her to gain a semblance of financial independence. All of this leading up to the confession that threatened to rip his own heart from his chest.

“I’ve been in survival mode for so long.” She could barely speak from how heavily she was crying. “I-I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Ruhn wasn’t sure if he could hold her any closer than he already was, but he certainly tried. Her entire body shook from the force of her crying. He shushed her, bringing a hand up to her face to cradle it against him. After a moment she lifted her head, resting her forehead against his.

Her sobbing calmed down to a few shuddering breaths. She brought her hands up to his face, cupping each side. Her nose tentatively brushed against his. Their lips were less than an inch apart, but she didn’t bring them any closer. He wanted to kiss her, but this wasn’t the way he wanted their first kiss to be. He wanted her happy when, if ever, she decided that she wanted more with him. Urd knew that he wanted more with her. 

Ruhn realized that he loved her. He loved her so damn much that even just simply waking up next to her everyday caused his heart to beat just a little bit faster. All he wanted to do was ensure she was happy, healthy, and safe. Especially safe given everything that she has been through. He vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to make that happen. 

“I’m not going to tell you who you are, as that is for you to decide,” He stated, breath intermingling with hers. “But I can tell you what I know and see every day that I’m with you. If you want to hear it, that is.” She brushed her nose against his again. He couldn’t tell if she wanted him to be the one that closed the distance or she would give in herself. Again he knew that it would be better to wait.  

“Please,” She breathed. “Everything feels so different. Like something is missing. I-I could use a reminder.” One his hands cupped the back of her neck, his fingers threading in the hair at the base. He gave a gentle comforting tug causing her to sigh. 

“Okay,” He pushed her face back slightly so he could better look her in the eyes. “You are kind and compassionate. I see that everyday when you’re with Nyx, a child that you have no relation to and yet you treat him as if he were your own. You’re patient with him and are teaching him what it means to be empathetic to those that have experienced hardships and the trials of life. You are talented and creative. Listening to you tonight, at the celebration and just a few minutes ago, you always take my breath away. I love listening to you and I don’t think that I would ever get tired of your voice. Use it more often, in every context, not just musically. You are so strong, so resilient, and fierce. No one would fault you for wanting to hide from the world. For letting the darkness you’ve experienced swallow you whole. But you don’t. You keep fighting for your life, knowing that things will get better. Even if there are those in this court that don’t want to appreciate all that you are.” Tears were again falling from her eyes, but a small smile graced her lips. Her cheeks took on a lovely blush at his praise.  

“You have such a large capacity for love,” He brushed away her tears with his thumbs. “I know things have changed and that you feel lost. But you are not alone in the feeling because so many things have changed since you were introduced into our lives. I honestly don’t know what my life would be without you.” He set his forehead against hers, his hands back around her waist, rubbing small circles. 

“Thank you,” Her whisper was so soft. He only knew that she had spoken from the breath he felt against his lips. 

“Anytime sweetness,” He smiled, squeezing her sides. She squirmed at the touch, no doubt the sensation sent a shiver up her spine. 

“With everything that has happened, the good and the horrible, it's easy to get lost in a sea of emotions.” She revealed. “It feels like that has been happening more and more lately. They swirl around jumbling my thoughts into an incomprehensible cacophony. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there have been more nights where I just can’t sleep. Not necessarily because of the nightmares, just…from how loud everything can get. Being with you helps, but I still just wish that my brain would quiet down sometimes.” 

Ruhn hummed in thought, processing her words. He had noticed that she was more restless the past week, but he had assumed it was related to her dreams. But if she was restless due to racing thoughts there might be a solution. 

He hated the idea of her using Azriel’s tonic, but it would provide the calm she needed to sleep. He had been so scared when she wouldn’t wake when he found her after his only trip to Midgard a year ago. No matter how hard he shook her she remained unconscious. He became so panicked that he eventually placed his ear against her chest, her heartbeat slow but present. He didn’t know what to do until Azriel arrived racing up the stairs to her room. The male claimed he was on his way to check on her when his shadows notified him of Ruhn’s presence and the fact that (Y/N) wouldn’t wake. Azriel attempted to calm Ruhn down after telling him about the tonic, but he didn’t want to listen until (Y/N) was awake again.  

Once she finally woke up Ruhn demanded to know what was in it, and he wasn’t surprised to learn that it had a near lethal dosage of refined black gum mixed in. If she were to use it again it would have to be strictly monitored. He knew all too well the dangers of addiction. 

“What if,” He started, “Would taking some of the tonic help? Just a small amount, enough to help calm you.” She peered at him, her brow furrowing in thought. He loved how cute she looked, even though it was a serious topic at hand. 

“It could,” She nodded, eyes drifting towards the side with ongoing contemplation. “I just worry about pouring too much. I thought that I measured it correctly, but…” Her words trailed off as she met his gaze again. 

“What if I were to help by measuring it out for you?” He offered. “I have experience with one of the ingredients, and have an idea of what would be a good dosage for you. But I don’t want to dictate when you take it. If you feel it would be helpful, and you want my assistance I will gladly mix it up for you in some tea.” Her expression flashed with disgust at the mention of tea. 

“I’d rather swallow it as is than drink it with tea,” She stated before jokingly making a retching sound. “What if I took it with alcohol?”

“Baby, it’s already mixed with alcohol. That’s what makes it so dangerous.” 

She pouted her lips, but eventually sighed. “It would help with reducing the noise in my head?” He nodded. 

“But if you’re not comfortable with taking it we can find something else. Maybe Bryce-” She shook her head at his suggestion. 

“The tonic was the only thing that has really helped so far,” She reminded him. “I just need someone to make sure that I don’t overdo it. I’ve had my fair share of taking medications with similar properties and I always get to a point where my tolerance builds and I need more to have the same desired effect.” So she did have an understanding of the risks. Ruhn found himself relaxing a bit at that. At least he wouldn’t have to convince her to not take it daily. 

“Let’s do this then,” He offered. “You tell me when things get to be too much, and I’ll pour you the dose that fits your needs best before bed. The tonic comes with risks, but your mental health is just as important.” She nodded. 

“Do you want to go back to bed?” He asked. “Or do you want to stay down here and cuddle.” He pulled her closer, settling her hips directly over his own. He had to suppress his surprise at the feeling of her, with only his boxers separating them. 

“Cuddle in bed?” She offered. A whisper of a smile gracing her features. 

“Sounds perfect,” He returned the smile as she stood up and off his lap. Taking her hand, Ruhn led her back towards their room. 

“Wait,” She stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “What should I do when I’m in the Day Court with Lucien?”

“Does Lucien still share a bed with you in the Day Court?” Ruhn asked as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. A possessive part of him didn’t want to hear the answer, selfishly wanting to be the only male to keep her warm in the midnight hours. 

“No,” She responded quietly. “He sleeps in his own bed, but he does sleep in the room. We…we felt it was best given all the drama about him being mated to Elain.” Ruhn’s shoulders relaxed just ever so slightly with the news. He knew they were friends, knew that the red-headed male had been privy to a fair number of her most vulnerable moments. He had to remind himself that, based on what little information Lucien provided, there was a brief moment when their relationship had danced on the edge of the already thin line between friendship and something more. 

He had suspected that perhaps they had nearly become intimate, or at least seen each other nude. Either way he didn’t particularly like the thought of another male being so close to her in that manner. Regardless of what it was, this moment ended up being the catalyst for Lucien to diminish his presence by her side over the past year and a half. Of which Ruhn was secretly glad. While (Y/N) stated that it was a mutual decision, Lucien informed him that it was her idea and decision. So far Lucien had been true to his word of respecting that decision, even if the separation between them was clearly hurting them both. 

“I’m sure that if you explain everything that you told me, he would be more than happy to assist in keeping an eye on you,” Ruhn offered. “And if he doesn’t want to then I’ll just have to start going to the Day Court with you.” His smile was mischievous as he pulled her closer to his body. They both knew that if Ruhn, Bryce, or Hunt were to step outside of Velaris there would be too many questions surrounding them. Especially given the fact that Ruhn and Rhysand looked so similar. 

The woman rolled her eyes, “Everyone was in agreement that knowledge of travelers from other worlds needed to be kept within the confines of the Inner Circle.” Her voice took on an almost mocking tone as she repeated Rhysand’s words. “At least until it becomes necessary to share that information.”

Ruhn knew that Rhysand would only reveal the existence of other worlds if there was a direct threat that required the assistance of other leaders. The hope was that those from Midgard would be able to defeat the Asteri largely on their own, and that (Y/N) would find a way home without the other High Lords taking notice. While (Y/N) had interactions with Helion, as far as Ruhn knew he had yet been informed of her true origins. 

“I know,” Ruhn said, bringing her hand to his lips before he tugged her up the stairs. “Plus that’s your time alone with Lucien. I doubt he would want me third wheeling.” She giggled. Fucking giggled and his heart soared. 

“Just hurry up,” She pushed at his back the rest of the way up the stairs. “I wanna cuddle.”

Yet another Autumn was in full swing in Velaris marking a full 4 years since you arrived in this world. Despite your ongoing trips to the Day Court you were no closer to finding a way home. As much as that simple fact upset you, you were slowly becoming more used to your life in Prythian. Every morning was the same routine of you waking next to Ruhn and having breakfast together before Azriel and Cassian took you to the House of Wind for your self defense training. Training was followed by caring for Nyx 4 days a week. You loved your time with the little heir, but you’d be lying if you said you also didn’t love having time to do what you wanted on your days off. 

Most days you would engage in your own hobbies of reading and music, and others you would explore Velaris with someone from the Inner Circle. Well, all except for Rhysand really. Each of the other members had their merits and you didn’t mind getting to know them. You especially enjoyed occasionally joining Nesta and her friends for a book club sleepover. She practically provided you with a never ending supply of romance novels, most of which were not for the faint of heart in regards to smut. Of course, you devoured each and every one of them, but even with the friendships you were forming, you really preferred the time you spent with Ruhn. 

You were together every night, and he really had become your rock since your break down after Starfall. You always expressed your gratitude and appreciation for his support, verbally and through small gestures. However, a part of you felt bad because he did so much for you; not only did he provide comfort and support, but he ensured that Lucien was made aware of your needs as well. 

The three of you had a very open and honest conversation surrounding the tonic and Lucien spending more time with you in the Night Court. Ruhn had recognized your needs and was proactive in making sure they were met. You were constantly on the lookout for a way to return his efforts, but there never seemed to be an opportunity. 

You didn’t want to push the topic, aware that he had his own emotions to process. The loss associated with someone that you were almost certain may have been his mate, even if he didn’t recognize that himself, and being away from his friends surely was taking an emotional toll. Not to mention that his entire life had abruptly changed, being captured and tortured, only to be rescued and forced to live on a world that was not his own. It was a similar situation to yours, so who better to share his feelings with? You wanted to do something for him, support him in the ways he supported you, but you didn’t know where to start since he didn’t open up in the same way. 

Sitting on the couch in the front parlor of the townhouse, your mind wandered in and out from thinking of various ideas as you read the latest novel borrowed from Nesta. Of course, the novel was one of her favorites and she gave you a warning to only read it when you were alone. You wished you had listened, clamping your legs together at the thought of Ruhn going down on you like the male lead in the novel. Which led you to wonder if he would enjoy a blow job as a way for you to express your thanks. So far the contents of this particular novel only inspired ideas that you were certain Ruhn would want no part of,  at least not with you. You were friends, nothing more. You’d been friendzoned enough times to know that was all you’d ever be with the annoyingly handsome male. 

Apart from the fact that you had to push the dirty thoughts from your mind, it was a nice quiet afternoon. One that was made all the more enjoyable with Lucien by your side. Well, he wasn’t exactly by your side as your legs were technically draped over his lap. His own book in one hand while the other traced lazy designs on your exposed thigh. 

You smiled to yourself as his fingers drew their designs. The sensation caused a shiver to run up your spine. You were grateful the male had followed through on his promise to see you more often between trips to the Day Court, even if he was technically sneaking behind Rhysand’s back to do it. He had reassured you that if you ever became uncomfortable with the extra visits he would stick to the schedule Rhysand set. Of course, you told him that you would never push him away, that you enjoyed all the time you got to spend with your best friend. Though, that didn’t stop you from worrying. There had already been a few close calls with Azriel almost finding out. The most recent incident was a month ago. 

Lucien arrived at the townhouse, winnowing into the back garden. The two of you spent the morning of your day off lounging in your room. Ruhn had left just a few minutes prior, jokingly warning against any “funny business”. You had rolled your eyes, the notion of anything like that occurring between you and your friend was utterly ridiculous, that morning in the Day Court being a fluke. He was mated and not at all interested in any other female, especially not a human. 

The two of you spent most of the day talking and catching up. He was in the middle of  recounting an instance of Jurian making a fool of himself at one of the human markets when you heard the front door of the townhouse open. You knew that Ruhn wouldn't be back for at least another hour. So whomever was downstairs was someone you were not expecting. 

“(Y/N)?” Azriel’s voice floated up the stairs. Of course, it had to be one of the worst people to show up unexpectedly. Your eyes went wide, looking at Lucien whose eyes were equally wide. 

“Under the bed!” You whisper shouted to the red-head. The two of you scrambled getting Lucien underneath your bed. You had just resettled on top of the mattress from fixing the sheets when Azriel’s head popped up around the corner of your door frame. 

The conversation between the two of you was short with him asking if you wanted to go to a new bakery that had just opened. You politely declined, claiming that you weren’t feeling the best and were probably going to take a nap. If one thing could be said, Azriel had become much better about respecting your boundaries, so he excused himself and offered to go with you another time. 

After hearing the front door close again, you rushed over to the top of the stairs to make sure that he truly left. When you returned to your room, you quickly shut the door and locked it just in case someone else decided to show up unannounced. You made your way back over to the bed and dropped down to the ground. Lifting the bedskirt you started to laugh. 

“Comfy?” You asked, a wide grin spreading across your face as you looked at the male. Lucien was lying on his stomach, hair mussed from the effort in maneuvering himself around while under your mattress. 

“Hardly.” His voice was less than amused as he attempted to crawl back out. The sight was one of the most entertaining you had witnessed in quite some time. His slow wiggling army crawl made him look more like a worm than the formidable predator that you knew Fae males to be. You couldn’t help but laugh loudly and fully. You laughed so hard that tears were streaming from your face and a slight pain bloomed on your side. You had not laughed like that since before your arrival in this world. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that you nearly triggered a coughing fit. 

“This makes me feel like a teenager again,” You admitted between laughs. “When I had to hide my boyfriend from my parents. Azriel has a bit of a tendency to act like such a dad!” You erupted into another bout of boisterous laughter. “Daddy Az!” Lucien just stared at you, his expression torn between amusement and irritation. You just continued to cackle.  

The two of you couldn’t always hide out in your bedroom though. Which is how you ended up in your current position on the couch, the dark gray curtains of the picture window overlooking the cobblestone street drawn shut. Your eyes focused back on the book in front of you. You kept your face as neutral as possible as the two main characters started to engage in a downright raunchy sex scene. You were no stranger to smutty stories, but the level of detail this author included was not what you were expecting. There was honestly no real plot to this book, just bold erotica. 

The passage of the book ignited a longing in your core. Again, you were forced to rub your thighs together to try to alleviate the desire building inside you. Lucien’s fingers stopped their movement, carefully squeezing your thigh. You couldn’t tell if it was in response to anything you were doing or if he just wasn’t paying attention. Regardless, you recognized that your body was reacting to the scene too strongly. Fuck, you needed to get laid. Five years without sex is way too long. 

You were so engrossed in your novel and the thoughts surrounding the passage that you didn’t hear the voices of those approaching the townhouse. You also didn’t hear the group enter and make their way into the parlor. 

“Aww, aren’t you two sweet?” Bryce cooed from the entryway. Your body jolted from surprise. One would have thought the book in your hands burned your skin with how quickly you dropped it. That was nothing compared to the shriek you let out when Ruhn’s face appeared next to your shoulder. 

“What are you reading?” His deep voice sent heat straight to your core. Goosebumps rose up along your arms as his breath fanned across your ear. He gave you a quick peck of a kiss to your cheek before leaning down to pick up the book. You felt Lucien’s grip on your thigh tighten before it went back to tracing indiscriminate patterns. His attention went to Bryce and Hunt, striking up a conversation with them. You reached for the book, but when you failed to answer Ruhn quickly enough, he pulled the novel away before you could get a decent grasp on it. 

“Hey! I am reading that!” You screeched at the dark haired male. You attempted to go for the book again, but Ruhn pranced out of your reach. 

“Well, isn’t this interesting.” He mused before exaggerating the clearing of his throat. The next sentence that came out of his mouth consisted of the most explicit erotica you had ever heard in your life. There was nothing left to the imagination at the graphic detail the author laid out. You felt the color drain from your face as the other three individuals immediately stopped their conversation while Ruhn continued to read in an overly dramatic fashion. 

“I begged him for his seed. Begged him to fill me. I-” Ruhn scrunched his face as his eyes scanned the page. “Fucking Hel I’m not saying that out loud. You know if you’re interested in this material all you have to do is ask. I’d be glad to show you first hand.” Ruhn dangled the book in front of your face. A smirk stretching across his features. 

Your hands reached for the book again, “Give that back.” You demanded. Your face burned red from the embarrassment that filled your chest. Ruhn pulled the book out of your reach a second time. Placing the corner of the novel against his cheek he hummed in playful contemplation. 

“No.” His statement was simple. “If you want it, come get it.” With that he raced out of the room. 

“Fucking asshole!” You seethed under your breath. Your embarrassment clouded your better judgment. A part of you knew that you fell for whatever scheme he was planning, but another part of you didn’t care as butterflies filled your stomach.  

“You’re such a child!” You shouted, swinging your legs to the side of the couch. Without a second thought you raced after him, barely registering Bryce’s comment. 

“She’s aware that she's just in that long tank top and panties right?” Bryce snickered.  

As you rounded the corner into the front hall you saw the back door slam shut. You ran for the door, quickly following him into the back garden. You stomped over to Ruhn, his bright eyes lit up like the night sky. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of you having to ask a third time to return the book, so you simply held out your hand expectantly. 

You honestly shouldn’t have expected that he would return the book so easily. No, Ruhn Danaan was a jerk that enjoyed teasing you at every possible opportunity. He held the book high above his head, completely out of your reach. But boy, did you make a spectacle of yourself trying to retrieve the item responsible for your shame. You jumped, arm extended upwards hoping to wrap your fingers around the book’s spine, only for Ruhn to move the book to his other hand. You smacked his chest and made a second attempt to jump for the book. However, you lost your balance as your foot landed on the tip of Ruhn’s boot. 

The male caught you, his arms slipping around your waist to steady you. With the book now within your sights as it rested on your hip you spun yourself around with the hopes to finally catch it. Alas, you were bested by his supernatural Fae reflexes. His arm was back in the air, the book dangling above his head. His other arm tightened around you, pulling your back flush against his chest. 

“Come on sweetness,” He mocked. His lips pressed against your ear. “You can do better than that can’t you?” You growled in frustration. The male just laughed, kissing the top of your head. 

“Would you stop that,” You warned, attempting and failing to push his face away from yours. You didn’t want him to know the effect that his lips and breath against your skin caused. The shiver that traveled down your spine. The way your legs turned to jelly. You were grateful that his arm was around you, certain that your knees would give out otherwise. Desire built within you the longer he held you close, wrapped in his warmth. 

“Did you know that when you’re aroused your scent takes on a slight hint of amber musk?” He crooned. He hadn’t moved his lips from their spot against your ear lobe. “It surprisingly complements the vanilla and honey very well.” Your eyes went wide and you whipped your head around to face him. You knew that the Fae had a more sensitive sense of smell, but you had been uncertain of the extent of this ability. The idea that anyone would be able to smell hormonal changes or emotions as if this were a poorly written omegaverse story, made you nervous. Knowing Ruhn was able to tell when you were aroused…You were absolutely mortified. 

“Aww baby, don’t worry,” He tried to reassure you, but the teasing tone to his voice never dissipated. “I’m certain that I’m the only one to have picked up on that.” He paused, his voice almost clipped. “Perhaps Lucien too.” You groaned. It was one thing for Ruhn to notice and become familiar with your scent. He lived with you and slept next to you every night. Somehow you felt even more embarrassed to know that Lucien could also tell. You made a vow to never read another smutty book in either of their presences ever again.  

“Just, give me the book Ruhn,” You were rapidly getting tired of this game.

“I will, if you tell me something about you that no one else knows,” He finally let you go. “And gimme a kiss.” 

“A kiss? Really?” You were exasperated and leveled him with a glare. “Aren’t we both a bit old to act like immature and hormonal teenagers?” 

“Maybe,” He mused, swinging the book in front of your face. “It doesn’t have to be more than a simple little peck.” You rolled your eyes. You stood there, tapping your foot with your hands on your hips as you pondered what to tell him. 

“Fine,” You bemoaned. “Seeing as no one has asked me yet, I’ll let you know when my birthday is, and my exact age.” You crooked your finger, beckoning him to come closer. Once he was close enough, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck. You allowed your fingers to thread in his hair, his own hand coming to rest on your hip. 

You had no idea where the sudden boldness came from, but you wanted to get back at him just a little. So, using your most seductive sounding voice you whispered the information into his year. Since you weren’t entirely sure if either Prythian or Midgard used the same calendar as your world, you gave an approximation of days after one of the main solar holidays which your birthday landed on. Had you angled your head differently you would have seen how his eyes practically rolled to the back of his head at the sound of your voice. What you did note was the tightening of his grip on your hip. You then topped off your performance with a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh that’s not fair. That was hardly a kiss.” He complained. “And there’s no way you’re that age.” 

“I most certainly am. And you should have been more specific about the type of kiss you wanted,” You explained, offering him a sweet smile. “Book please.” Holding out both of your hands you patiently waited for him to comply. With an exaggerated sigh, he placed the racy novel into your awaiting hands. You beamed up at the male, lips parting to make a sarcastic remark when someone behind you cleared their throat. Lucien stood on the wooden deck, shifting from one foot to the next. 

“I should be getting back to the human lands,” He announced, eyes focusing on Ruhn. A harsh expression crossed his features. 

“Okay,” You nodded, choosing to ignore how Lucien’s gaze never left the other male’s, and quickly ran up to him. He opened his arms, enveloping you in a hug as part of your usual parting routine. You embraced him as well, taking in a deep breath as you pressed your nose against his neck. You knew that your sense of smell wasn’t anything like the Fae’s, incapable of picking out each and every specific scent that made up the whole. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to memorize the way he smelled. You couldn’t put your finger on any one particular fragrance, the only thing your mind could determine was that he just smelled like a warm and cozy autumn afternoon. Ruhn had his own scent in your mind as well. Again, nothing that you could describe beyond the way it made you feel at ease and secure.  

Lucien held you close, his own face buried against your neck. Perhaps he also found comfort in the way you smelled. You suddenly remembered Ruhn’s comment, of the two of them being able to smell your arousal. Carefully you pulled away from Lucien before wishing him a safe journey back to his shared home with Vassa and Jurian. The males gave each other a small nod, and within the blink of an eye Lucien was gone. 

Lucien had lost count of how many times he read the passage in the center of the page of his open book. His attention continuously strayed to the woman whose legs were draped over his lap. Her attention focused on the novel in her own hands lent to her by Nesta, eyes darting side to side as her gaze swept over what must have been truly tantalizing material. Especially if the intoxicatingly sweet aroma spilling off her was anything to go by.

It took effort for him to keep his breaths steady, fighting against the desperate desire to inhale deeply every time the breeze brushed through the open window and ruffling her hair. His left hand rested across her plump thighs, fingertips tracing lazy designs along the outer side. Every now and again the softest hum would slip past her lips. The sound caused his cock to twitch against the fabric of his trousers.

The scent of her arousal was thick and heady. He glanced over to her, careful not to rouse suspicion that he was watching. A thin lacy off-white strap of her light blue cotton top slipped off her shoulder. The simple item was one that Bryce had given her for the Winter Solstice last year, and her breasts looked sinful whenever she wore it. Another breeze flitted past, and Lucien watched as her nipples peaked underneath the fabric. Mother above; he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the groan that wanted out.

An eternity passed by as he debated on giving up his attempts to read entirely. The need to taste her was damn near overwhelming. That desire quickly won out. Without another thought he allowed his fingers to trail higher up the exposed silken flesh of her thigh, slowly moving towards the apex between her legs. He delicately brushed over the outline of her pubic mound before moving on to the opposite leg. He watched intently as her breath became shallow, hitching when his fingers teased over the sensitive area again. Her eyes stopped their flitting movement from taking in the words on the pages before her, however, she didn’t bring her attention to him. Instead, she parted her legs just enough for him to dip his hand between them. A silent invitation.

He accepted the gift that was offered to him, and curled his fingers between the limbs, pressing the outside of his pinky against the thin fabric of her matching panties. Ever since their trip to the Day Court she stopped wearing any articles of clothing that would obscure her legs from his view when they were alone together. He had no complaints, secretly loving the fact that she felt confident enough to show them off. Her breath hitched again. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, pleased with the reaction he was eliciting from her. He moved his hand up and down, dragging the edge of it along her folds. She spread her legs a little further, and Lucien felt the damp spot that had seeped through the cotton material. 

Lucien turned his head to better look at the woman. Her book swayed in her grip as her eyes fluttered shut from the pleasure she was already feeling. He pressed his hand further between her legs and hooked his pinky finger under the fabric separating her flesh from his. He smirked with satisfaction; she was absolutely soaked. She whimpered as his finger wriggled in between her folds, inching closer to that precious bundle. Her body went taut as soon as he made contact, and her eyes found him. His grin was triumphant.

Her book fell to the side, thumping against the carpet beneath the couch they lounged upon. Lucien tossed aside his own book, not caring where it landed in the parlor. He twisted to face her, her legs falling open for him. Wordlessly his hand traveled up to the waistband of her underwear and began to pull down. Lifting her hips, she allowed him to remove the garment. His mouth watered at the sight of her glistening cunt before him. He maneuvered himself lower, bracing his forearms on the cushions. Gently pulling on her leg to bring her closer, she then angled her hips to give him better access to her center. He kissed his way up the inside of one thigh, gently blowing warm air over her folds, and kissed back down the opposite thigh. She stifled a moan at the contact. He wrapped one arm around the thigh resting against the back of the couch, pinning her in place. His other hand traced up the inside of her opposite leg, gently pushing it further out, opening her to him completely.

He looked at her again, her chest rising and falling from breathlessness. She made no move to stop him, so he descended upon her. He brushed his nose along the seam of her entrance. Her inhale sharp and sudden as he trailed it over her clit. His tongue soon followed, dragging along from the base of her entrance, dipping in to collect her honeyed essence on his tongue. He moaned at her flavor, his cock now hard and straining against his trousers. His tongue languidly found its way up to her clit, gently circling around it. The needy whimper she made was music to his ears, encouraging him to recreate an intricate dance over her sensitive pearl. 

He brought his hand up and spread her lips, before flicking over her bud with the strong muscle. She cried out, her hand winding its way into his hair. He grinned in satisfaction as she held him close to her. He gave his undivided attention to that bundle of nerves. Alternating between the tip and flat of his tongue pressing against her. She called his name when he wrapped his lips around her pearl and sucked. Her head was thrown back in complete bliss. She didn’t hold back any of her pleasured moans, and he relished the sound.

He buried his face further into her, moving to dip his tongue deep in her core. Her hips bucked, seeking more stimulation. Lucien was all too happy to oblige. A quick kiss to her clit and he backed away. Running his fingers through her wetness, he coated the digits before sinking two into her awaiting opening. He almost came from the pleasured cry she released.

Encouraged by her voice, his lips wrapped around her pearl again. He thrust his fingers a few times, feeling along the velvety walls for the spot that would make her see stars. Upon finding it, he began to massage the spot with the pads of his fingers. More of her essence flowed from her, dripping onto the cushions below and coating the fabric with evidence from how good he was making her feel.

He could stay here, licking her core for hours if she’d let him. Cauldron, he prayed she would let him. She was so sweet, with just the right hint of musk. She squirmed her hips, but his grip on her only tightened. Her walls began to clamp around his long fingers as they continued to massage against that soft spot. Pride filled his chest. She was going to come soon, surprisingly quickly too. Not wanting to disappoint his love he wrapped his lips around her clit again and sucked harshly. She cried out as her legs began to shake. Lucien sped up the pace of his fingers inside her, matching it with the flicking of his tongue against her bud. Within seconds she came. Hard. Her walls pulsated with the pounding of her heart. He slowed his movements, but didn’t stop, wanting to savor the taste of her just a little longer.

The sound of thunder roared through the manor, instantly jolting Lucien from the dream. He growled at the fact that nature had the gall to disturb and wake him. He turned his head to the side to see the chilled droplets of water splattering against the window of his room. The human lands were always dreary this time of year. Actually, to be honest they were dreary in general, regardless of the time of year. However, that was probably to be expected south of the wall. Even with the wall gone these past five years magic had largely stayed within the Prythian Fae lands. 

Lucien groaned again, his hands rubbing along his face. He threw off the cream colored wool blanket, leaving him only covered by the matching cotton sheet. He shifted his legs only to feel the sheet get caught on his hard cock. Looking down he grunted in frustration. This hadn’t been his first sex dream, but it was the first where (Y/N) was involved. 

He was with her just the day before and wondered if this was the reason she occupied his thoughts. Her scent had been intoxicating as they sat on the couch together, basking in each other’s company. If he had to be honest with himself the dream was just a manifestation of the actions he wanted to take before they were interrupted. He groaned again. He shouldn’t be thinking of her this way. She was his friend. Yet, he couldn’t help it when the memory of her bare breasts would sneak past his defenses in the middle of the day. 

He took several deep breaths, hoping that would help him calm down. After a few minutes he could no longer stand the throbbing sensation of his member. Pulling the sheets back he looked down at his body. His cock stretched up towards his navel, hovering just above his torso. The tip glistened as lighting lit up the room. He sighed, having no choice other than to take care of the issue. 

Lucien allowed his hand to traverse down his body. If he was going to do this he may as well make it enjoyable. His large hand reached the part of him begging for attention. Gently he traced the tips of his fingers down the underside of his shaft, the touch caused him to hiss through his teeth. He continued on downward to massage his scrotum. His hips canted up as pleasure bloomed. He called forth an image of Elain in his mind. Surely it was permissible for him to think of his mate in this context, even if she was still processing the mating bond and didn’t appear to want anything to do with him. They had the time for her to process and come to a decision. So, he could let his imagination build an idea of her in his head. 

His hand went to his shaft, thumb spreading the pearl beads of liquid that flowed out. He continued to hold the picture of Elain in his mind, but it was a struggle. He kept having to consciously drag his mind back to her as it kept wandering to thoughts of (Y/N). His hand caressed along his length until it was flush against his base, squeezing as it traveled down. He performed the same action as his hand returned to the head of his cock. More liquid spilled forth and the image of (Y/N)’s tongue licking the substance from his tip slammed to the forefront of his mind. 

He moaned at the mental image of the woman, bent over between his legs. He spread them further apart ever so slightly as to make space for her body. He truly wondered what her mouth would feel like wrapped around him. How far would she be able to take him? Would she have to use her hand to caress what she couldn’t fit? How would her mouth compare to being inside her. He could easily picture her perched above him, slowly lowering herself to allow his cock to breach her warm cunt. 

Lucien warmed his hand to the temperature he imagined would wrap around him once he was fully sheathed inside. The moan that left his lips was louder than he intended. He quickly brought his free hand to his lips to muffle any other sounds that may slip out without his permission. 

He picked up the pace as he continued to picture her bouncing above him. An image of the way her breasts would bounce with the movement entered his mind. He remembered how full and heavy they looked. Gods, he had desperately wanted to wrap his lips around her peaked nipples that morning in the Day Court. 

He wondered if things would have been any different if they had given into their desires that night, or even that morning when they sobered up. Would he be able to act upon the thoughts that filtered through? Allow himself to sink deep into her warmth as they made love?  His hand continued running up and down, up and down, giving quick and firm squeezes as needed along the most sensitive parts of his shaft. He could feel pressure building in the pit of his lower abdomen, his balls tightening by a fraction. His hand moved faster as the mental version of (Y/N) rotating her hips. She would do her best to reach her own climax, wanting her euphoria to peak in time with him. 

Lucien stroked his member a few more times before that pressure boiled over. Ropes of cum spurted forth, coating parts of his abdomen. The orgasm went on longer than any he had before. A second wave caused his seed to dribble over his hand. His hand slowed and eventually stopped. 

Pulling away from his softening length he slowed his breathing. He sat up, bringing his legs over the side of the bed. Standing, he walked over to the small pitcher and basin that rested on the top of the narrow dresser in the corner of his room. He quickly cleaned himself off and returned to the bed. As he returned to a horizontal position the reality of what he did finally caught up with him. 

He came to the thought of his best friend riding him. Why? What the hell was wrong with him? It was true he missed her, despite spending more time with her in secret. Maybe that was the reason the image of her was called to his mind. Since Elain continued to push him aside, his mind instead conjured the female he missed the most, giving him pleasure he didn’t even know he craved. 

It was hard to admit, but the time spent with the otherworldly woman occupied his thoughts more and more frequently. He could only assume that his growing affection was due to the time spent with her. (Y/N) never truly wanted him out of her life. Their agreement to separate was just to stop the others from talking and meddling in what should have been just between him and his friend.  

Besides, he didn’t believe that she would be interested in him in that regard. Not when she had become so close to Ruhn. The way that the male looked at her, his need to constantly touch her and her easy acceptance of that affection sent a pang through Lucien’s chest. Yes, she was more likely to be interested in Ruhn than him. Lucien made himself believe his feelings weren’t more than a quick and fleeting infatuation anyway. She could actually create a life with Ruhn. Lucien concluded that he should let her have that life, if she so chooses. He would be perfectly content to continue their friendship. 

With his thoughts starting to settle, he listened to the rain that continued its assault on the manor he shared with Vassa and Jurian. Soon after he drifted off to sleep, but his dreams wouldn’t so easily let her go. Later that morning, Lucien found himself repeating the cycle from the night before. Perhaps he was in more trouble than he wanted to admit. 

The smell of sauteed garlic filled the townhouse when you entered. Having just returned from the Day Court with Lucien, your stomach rumbled. The week you spent there had been fruitless yet again. You were starting to believe that the information you so desperately sought simply did not exist. It had been too long without any real headway. Which didn’t make any sense. According to Nesta, one of the Night Court priestesses had, at one point, compiled research regarding other worlds. Therefore, the sources should reasonably exist. Then again, her research was more about proving the existence of other worlds, not necessarily travel between them. 

Still you clung on to some version of hope. For your next trip you were planning on going to a much older library set in the middle of the Day Court territory. According to Helion it was the oldest library in Prythian, built along the edge of a river. He explained that not only did the library house books and scrolls, but it held artifacts as well. You had to admit that you were excited for that aspect. If you couldn’t find a way home you could at least learn as much about this land that you found yourself in. 

“Ouch! Shit!” Ruhn’s shout interrupted your thoughts. You made your way into the kitchen to see said male using one hand to pour scalding water into the basin of the sink. He shook his other hand at his side, likely from the splash of the water as it hit the porcelain.  

“What is all this?” You asked, glancing around at the chaos. The kitchen island was covered in debris from cut vegetables, herbs, and what appeared to be a partial cheese wedge. At least three saucepans were on the stove top, not including the large pot he held. Ruhn chuckled nervously as he twisted to face you. 

“You’re, uh, a bit early,” He set the pot back on the stovetop. “I was hoping to have this done by the time you got here.” You were utterly confused. 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” You pointed out. You made your way further into the kitchen, the smell of garlic and onion making your stomach growl. 

“Well, I would hope that’s a bit obvious.” He smiled and your stomach filled with butterflies. “But in case it isn’t, I made you dinner.” You didn’t know how to react. It was by far one of the sweetest gestures you had received in a while. It seemed that most of the people in your life were fond of giving gifts, so something as simple as a homemade dinner was new.   

“Okay,” You still didn’t understand why he would go through this trouble of making dinner. “Why?” You couldn’t help but be cautious. While Ruhn had given you no reason to doubt his intentions, gestures like this reminded you of a past negative relationship. One of your ex’s would perform these grand gestures or even small acts of service, only to remind you of his “generosity” when he wanted something. 

Ruhn didn’t answer, but simply smiled as he continued moving about the kitchen. Cooked noodles and a few veggies were tossed into a white sauce that bubbled on the stove top. He gathered a couple of plates, setting them on the only clear spot between the stove and sink. One of his shadows managed to fetch a pair of crystal wine glasses from the cupboard. You could smell the sharp sweetness of the pale wine as he poured half a glass for you.  

“Come on Ruhn,” You placed a hand on top of his to gain his attention. “What is this all for?” 

“Today’s your birthday isn’t it?” The question rattled you. It took a few seconds for you to begin the mental calculations, and sure enough he was right. Today was your birthday. Ruhn had resumed plating the pasta dish, and therefore missed your stunned expression, surprised by the fact that he remembered. Then again, he was the only one that even knew. The reminder that no one else had even bothered to ask in the years that you had been here stung. However, you were determined to not let that ruin his thoughtfulness. 

“Follow me,” He instructed, rounding his way around the island, both plates in hand and piled high with the best smelling white wine garlic sauce that you could imagine. Excited for what the night could bring you followed as he instructed. 

You had gotten through half of your meal when Ruhn placed a rectangular black box slightly larger than your palm on the table directly in front of you. Your laughter fizzled out as you stared at the object. The butterflies were back, swirling around and threatening to fly up and out of your throat. You hadn’t expected any of this, neither dinner nor a gift, when you told him of your birthday. 

“Happy Birthday, again,” He smiled. The expression was so genuine and filled with adoration. Your heart stuttered. You looked between him and the box with wide eyes. It had been nearly four years without anyone even bothering to ask about your birthday. You were aware of everyone else’s birthdays, and at least the approximate time for Cassian’s. Everyone else received at the very least well wishes and at most celebrations were held. Yet still no one had directly asked you about yours. 

“That’s not,” You had to swallow the lump that was forming. You could only point to the object lying before you. “That’s not-”

“It’s not jewelry,” He chuckled, “If that’s what you’re worried about.” You let out a relieved sigh. 

“What is it then?” 

“You’ll have to open it if you want to find out.” He reasoned, sliding the box closer towards you. With nervous fingers you reached for it. The item was simple and reminded you of thick cardboard. The lid slid off easily, the bottom half thunking slightly against the wooden table top. Inside was what resembled a smartphone. The large black screen was dark and reflected the lights from the small chandelier above. 

Confusion crossed your features. What were you supposed to do with a cell phone living in Prythian? You couldn’t exactly use it. There were no cell towers or access to any network that would allow you to make calls or send messages. The only thing that it could be used for is a place to store music and photos. Maybe even a game that didn’t require any internet. You also had no way of keeping the phone powered up. From what you could gather, faelights and firstlight were entirely different energy sources from each other and different from the energy sources you had on Earth. So what was the reason for a gift like this? It wasn’t as if you weren’t grateful, just confused. 

“Turn it on,” Ruhn encouraged. He clearly knew something that you didn’t. You could tell the male was eager for you to find out whatever it was he had planned. You followed his instruction, powering on the device. The screen lit up, slowly going from one load screen to the next. The names of the manufacturing company and service provider were different from your own, yet still provided a sense of familiarity. When the phone finally loaded, you were greeted with an image you thought would be forever lost to you. 

The background image of the phone’s home screen was the most recent picture you had taken of your nephew before your life had changed. For the briefest of moments everything went still as you stared at the image. You had no words. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing as the tears brimmed your eyes. 

Slowly Ruhn reached over, tapping one of the two icons and a music player replaced your homescreen. He scrolled down, titles of songs flying by. It took you a moment to realize that you recognized some of them. Your brows furrowed, confusion blooming yet again. You tried to remember if there had ever been any discussion of your world having the same songs or artists as those on Midgard, but your mind came up empty. There was no way…

Your question was answered as Ruhn backed out of the music app and opened the phone’s image gallery. Your gasp was audible. Tiles of images from your life on Earth filled the screen. You scrolled through the gallery. Eventually you came to a few that you didn’t initially recognize. You clicked on the tile, causing it to expand. The image of you holding Nyx at your first Starfall forced the tears to drip from your eyes. You scrolled right to view another image. One where Ruhn had joined you and the little heir. Waves of longing washed over you. 

“I-I…H-,” You lifted your hand towards your throat as you struggled to find your voice. “How?” Your tongue felt heavy as you tried to retain some composure. You couldn’t look at the male, afraid that you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. This was without a doubt the most thoughtful gift you had received in your life. 

“I asked my friend, Declan,” Ruhn explained, his voice uncharacteristically soft and timid. “He’s a tech genius.” You continued to scroll through the new images. You had been completely unaware that your picture was being taken as often as it was, most of the images being candid shots of you and Ruhn together. You almost didn’t recognize yourself. Not just because your body had clearly adjusted to a life with less processed foods and regular exercise, but you appeared happy in every picture with the male. Genuinely happy. When did that happen?

“Why?” The question was a hushed whisper. This didn’t make any sense. Why would he do this for you? Why was he doing anything for you? Even if Lucien asked him to help make sure you stayed safe, Ruhn was under no obligation to go to the extent that he has for you. So why? 

“Dec managed to transfer over most of the music and photo data that was on your phone,”

Ruhn continued, dragging his chair closer towards you. “We weren’t even sure if it would work, but I’m happy it did.” 

“What do you mean?” He looked puzzled, as if the answer, his motivation was the most obvious thing in the world. The obvious reason would be that he considered you a friend. But that reason alone wasn’t sufficient for all that he did. 

“I-I don’t understand,” Words were failing you as you continued to stare at the phone. “Why…are you so good to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He continued to speak as if the answer was obvious. “You deserve to feel special and cared for. You’re important to me and I…care about you.” 

“You care about me?” You finally turned to look at him. 

“Yes.” He smiled again. 

“You asked your friend to-” You had to swallow before your words got away from you. “This…all of this is because you care about me?”

“Yes.” His chuckle was gentle as he brushed his knuckles against the side of your face. You hadn’t realized how close his face was to yours. Your eyes flitted down to the curve of his full mouth, and before you could stop yourself you pressed your lips against his. Your body felt alight, zapped and thrumming with electricity. You pulled away just as quickly, eyes going wide. You didn’t mean to kiss him. Or at least, you think you didn’t mean to. Your emotions just took over. Surely he would understand that it was an accident.  

“I’m…I’m sor-” But your words were muffled as he chased your kiss with one of his own. As your lips met for a second time, everything slowed down and sped up simultaneously. Ruhn’s hold on you felt like a dream, his large warm hands cradling your face. Electricity skittered down your spine as one of the hands moved towards the back of your neck. A familiar gentle tug at your roots settled the nerves that raced through your veins. 

As you eased into the kiss, your hands came to rest on his shoulders to help ground yourself. You felt as if you were floating; though you weren’t entirely sure that you would have minded if you never came back down. All thoughts in your mind jumbled and turned fuzzy as his lips caressed and melded with your own. With each passing second you craved more of him.  

You almost wondered if he was able to read your thoughts when his hands drifted down your body, dancing over every curve until they found the small of your back. He pulled you closer towards the edge of your chair, before separating your mouths, breaths intermingling between you. 

Quicker than you could comprehend, you felt your body being lifted. The next thing you knew you were planted on the table top with Ruhn placed between your thighs as he towered over you. Plates and utensils clanged against each other and your wine glasses rattled from the force your bodies had on the wood. Your head was forced to angle up in order to reach his lips again. As you reconnected, Ruhn’s tongue traced along the seam of your closed lips. Without any hesitation you opened up to him, allowing him the opportunity to explore. 

Kissing Ruhn made you feel alive, blood vibrating with the racing of your heart. Goosebumps rose along every inch of skin as his hands wandered over your body. His kiss was all encompassing, every one of your senses on high alert and zoned in on the feel of him against you. The only sounds in the room consisted of your mingled breaths and the repeated meeting of your lips. 

Ruhn’s calloused hand traveled down the side of your waist, passing over your hips to come to rest on your lower left thigh. Fingers wrapped around the back of your knee, grip tight and secure. In a fluid motion he tugged you forward, wrapping the limb around his hip. The movement caused you to fall back, but you caught yourself on your elbows. Ruhn leaned over you, pushing you further back to lay flat against the table. 

Excitement raced through you at the thought of him taking you in the middle of the dining room. Ruhn’s mouth separated from yours and began to trace along the side of your neck. His quick breaths tickled your skin. Your hands traveled up his arms, one lingering on his bicep while the other continued to wrap tightly in his hair. You guided him to a spot on your neck that made your toes curl. Ruhn sucked on the spot of your pulse point, just below your ear. You whimpered at the tingling sensation that shot down the right side of your body, warmth spreading throughout your core. Gods, you wanted him. Wanted him sheathed deep inside you, rutting and grinding to bring you to the brink of an orgasm. 

“Fuck Ruhn,” You moaned. He grunted in reply, doubling down on his attention to that spot on your neck. Something nagged at the back of your mind, but you shoved it aside. Soon his lips trailed further down, kissing their way along the front of your throat and collar bones. His head dipped lower, down to your cleavage. 

“Ruhn,” You whined. “Slow-slow down.” However, it appeared he was too lost in his lust to have heard you. That nagging sensation in the back of your mind appeared again. 

“Ruhn, baby,” You tried to gain his attention again. “I need-”

“I love it when you say my name.” His mouth moved back as he hummed, lowering the collar of your dress. In another motion he moved aside the cup of your bra, exposing one breast to the cool air of the dining room. You could feel the bud peak from the sudden lack of warmth. His nose brushed around your nipple, and your hips canted up toward his pelvis. Your response surly was a favorable one as in the next instance his mouth enveloped the stiff bud. 

“Oh Gods!” You pulled at the roots of his midnight hair as his tongue began to gently lave over your nipple. “Ruhn, please wa-”

“It’s okay Lidia. I’ve got you.” His words forced reality to slam back into you like the coldest winter winds. 

“What did you just say?” You grabbed his face, forcing Ruhn to look at you. The blue of his irises were nearly obscured by the blown pupils. “Ruhn!” 

“What?” Ruhn blinked in surprise at the strength the woman used to push him away. His hands had to brace themselves on the edge of the table so that he didn’t fall on top of her. 

“You just called me Lidia,” Her voice was strained. The expression on her features a mix of emotions, each one vying to overtake the other to gain control of how she would react.   

“No,” Ruhn’s voice was breathless as he reeled back to a standing position above her. “No. Fuck…I-I didn’t...” Guilt washed over him as he looked at the woman before him. What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn’t mean to say that name. He knew that he was with (Y/N). He was ecstatic that he was finally getting to hold and touch her in the way he craved since well before their first Starfall. He allowed his mind to be clouded by lust.

“Was she…was Lidia the female that saved your life?” (Y/N)’s tone was somber, yet held a slight wobble. Ruhn looked down, afraid to meet her pained gaze. He noticed that her naked breast was still on display. Her eyes followed his stare and she hastily fixed her dress to cover herself.

“I…” He tried to swallow his shame. “Yes, but I didn’t-” 

“Yet you did Ruhn,” She moved off the table. Arms wrapping around herself, she sat back in her chair.

“She doesn’t mean anything,” He tried to reassure her, but even he knew that it was a lie. He didn’t understand, honestly he didn’t allow himself to understand exactly what Lidia meant to him. His feelings were jumbled like a pile of worms. A perfect reflection of how he currently felt looking at how she caved in on herself. 

The situation with Lidida was complex to say the least. He had grown to care for Agent Daybright. Hel, he had suspicions that there was something greater at work that brought them together. That was until he found out who she really was. Day, his Day, was none other than The Hind. The very same female known for hunting down and destroying any rebel life that dared make itself known on her radar. But Lidia had been a double agent. Years later and Ruhn was still trying to wrap his head around this revelation.  

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” (Y/N) begged. Ruhn couldn’t focus his attention on the present moment. 

“Do what? Baby I-” 

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Her bitter yell shot down his spine. “Please.” He was shocked that she yelled, actually yelled. He couldn’t blame her for that though. He called her by another female’s name. Something that no one deserved, but especially her. Ruhn knew that (Y/N)  already had doubts and insecurities. He had vowed to himself that he would build her up, make her see just how desirable and worth loving she was. He thought he had finally succeeded when she initiated that first kiss. Yet despite his physical attention being on her, his use of the wrong name unraveled everything in an instant. 

“I’m not an idiot, so please do not try to play this off,” She began, her voice taking on an edge of cynicism. However, she took a breath before continuing. “I recognize that it’s complicated, at least from what little Bryce told me, but Lidia clearly meant something to you.” Complicated was putting it in the most simplistic of terms. When he found out who Lidia was, he felt betrayed. Played like a fiddle for a fool. It didn’t matter how much the female tried to talk to him through whatever bond had been forged. It didn’t matter how he would always regret shutting her out during that week, only for her to die making sure that he got out safe and alive.  

“Bryce talked to you about Lidia?” Ruhn’s own voice hardened. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had intentionally never mentioned Lidia’s name to (Y/N) before. He didn’t see the need since the female was no longer living and all of his attention was focused on the woman by his side day in and day out. 

“Well you certainly didn’t,” She snapped. “And I still had to ask her several times before she finally gave any information.” The (h/c) woman sighed, shoulders slumping forward from an invisible heaviness. 

“Why did you ask her?” Ruhn knew the answer. Ruhn knew that he rarely even talked about the events that lead to him getting involved with the human rebellion against the Asteri. But it was for good reason. His life had been completely turned upside down, he didn’t want to add on to anyone else’s shit. It didn’t matter that Hunt argued that (Y/N) would understand. Ruhn didn’t want to add the burden of his feelings on to her, not with all she had been through.  

“You wouldn’t open up, and I didn’t know what else to do!” She almost seemed defeated by her growing frustration. “Did you really think that I didn’t notice there were days where you were struggling? Did you think I didn’t notice when you became distant? Your gaze unfocused and attention elsewhere? Did you think that I wouldn’t listen?” Her accusation stung. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. Ruhn couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her any of this. For all that he wanted he just couldn’t open up to her. It was his job to take care of her, not the other way around. Not when her existence meant so much. But he had failed her too. He hurt her and there was no excuse. His throat constricted with remorse. 

“We’ve spent nearly four years getting to know each other,” The soft laugh that escaped her sounded beaten and on the verge of breaking. “Three of those years have been spent sleeping in the same bed almost every night. You have supported me in ways that I will never ever be able to repay. You know so much about me and my needs. I know next to nothing about you.” She wiped at her cheek, flicking away the tear that managed to slip past. He wanted to reassure her, but all he could manage was to remain silent and unmoving. The shame kept him frozen. Who knew that a single name could cause such turmoil?  

“I’ve tried Ruhn. I have asked questions about your life and your interests. All to see if you would open up to me in the ways I have shared with you; but I feel constantly shut out from anything that is meaningful. I don’t know what else to do.” Another silent tear slipped down. She sounded so tired. 

“I know that everyone heals in their own time, and I don’t want to force you to do something that you are not ready for. But if there is to be anything between us,” Her tone became a plea, “If there are any genuine feelings, then I need you to share yourself with me. I want to know who you are and support you when you need comfort. It is only fair.” Ruhn knew that she was right. That Hunt was right. She would be the only one that would be able to understand the upheaval and veering trajectory that his life had taken. 

“I also,” She suddenly became much more hesitant. “I also need to know that you are able to differentiate me from her.  I shouldn’t have to compete with a ghost. I deserve more than to be a consolation prize.” Her last statement felt like a slap in the face. He knew she didn’t deserve that, but he also recognized how easy it was for her to feel that way. Lidia essentially gave her life for Ruhn. He would forever feel responsible and grateful to her. So when he referred to the woman in front of him by his almost lover, he made all of her insecurities come true. 

“I am so sorry,” His voice cracked, desperate to apologize. “That was a fucking shitty thing for me to do. You don’t deserve that. I-I know that. I just…” How was he supposed to explain something that he didn’t fully understand?

“It’s fine,” The words were clipped, acidic and dismissive. This situation was a far cry from fine as she looked away. He wished she would rage and lash out at him, not this quiet acceptance of suffering. Didn’t she feel safe enough to speak her mind and show all of her emotions with him? 

“You don’t need to explain anything tonight. Take the time that you need, and know that I am here if  you need me,” The sentiment was sincere, even if her voice felt empty as she continued to stare off into the corner. “But I think that it may be best for us to sleep in separate rooms. At least for a few days.” His breath shuddered, throat closing as he held back his own tears, but he nodded his agreement. He didn’t want to be separated from her, but understood why she wanted some space. 

“Do-” He cleared his throat. “Do you want the tonic then?” He fiddled with one of the rings on his hand. He sent a shadow to collect the bottle from the spot he kept it stored. 

“Yes,” Her tone wavered. “I can mix it though. You should get some rest.” The bright clinking of the bottle hitting the table was deafening in the now quiet dining room. Ruhn watched in silence as she uncorked her liquid salvation, splashing a few drops into the rest of her wine. He didn’t stop her. Her gaze remained averted, fingers gracefully lingering on the stem of the clear glass. He moved to get a better look at her. 

“(Y/N),” His voice died in his throat at the emptiness he found in her gaze. She shifted her face ever further away, a clear indication that their conversation for the evening was over. 

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

“I know right. I never thought that I would have the opportunity to actually wear this. Bryce picked it out. Apparently she wanted to take me to this place called Rita’s here. I told her I haven’t been out to a club in like a decade… literally.” 

“Wait, how old are you?” Azriel asked, realizing that was something he had never learned about her. 

“How old do I look?” She challenged. Azriel paused for a moment as she looked down from the stair stoop of the townhouse. 

“I’m not answering that. Not if I want to continue living,” He smiled.

“Good boy,” She quipped. 

A couple hours later, Azriel and (Y/N) returned to the townhouse after the concert. They decided to walk back from the concert hall and the entire time she spent gushing about the experience. He noted each of her hand movements as she talked, the way she walked slightly angled towards him. He was surprised that she hadn’t tripped on the cobble stone path in the high heels she wore. Azriel smiled the entire time she spent describing the music, her descriptions even provided him with insights into the pieces he had never considered before. 

However, her chatty demeanor quickly dissolved the minute they approached the townhouse, which was still as dark as they had left it before leaving for the concert. Azriel watched as the sparkle that had been in her eyes throughout the performance slowly dissipated. It was starting to get late and it was clear that Ruhn had still not yet returned from whatever Rhys and Cassian were having him do. 

“I’m sure he will be back soon,” He reassured her. However, she didn’t bother to acknowledge him. Instead she squared her shoulders, entering the townhouse as if nothing was wrong and resumed their conversation. 

“So a requiem in my world also serves the purpose of remembering and honoring the dead,” She explained. “One of the largest religions has a very specific ritual surrounding it and many composers have set music to the prayers that make up the Mass. It’s honestly fascinating to see the same occurring here, but with a completely different religious base.” Azriel couldn’t help but smile as she continued to talk about what she found most enjoyable about the concert. “What were the parts of this one again? I’m so used to the Latin from my world,” She looked at him and Azriel’s mind froze for a half second before he remembered what she asked. 

“So there are eight segments, the first seven are based on the elements of life that the Mother placed in her Cauldron to create Pyrthian, which are Darkness, Sun, Moon, Earth, Water, Sky, and Fate. The final segment is the standard prayer that the Fae recites to those that are dying and was added much later.” He explained as they entered the parlor.  

“Yes I recognized the prayer. My mother taught me that one. It’s been passed down in my family for generations.” Her previous excitement was diminished, but she was making an effort to not let her disappointment in Ruhn’s continued absence show. “I also really enjoyed the segments for Moon and Earth. I am so impressed with this composer’s ability to encapsulate the imagery of each concept. It reminded me more of “The Planets” by Holst than a liturgical mass of traditional requiems in my world. It’s fascinating. And see this was one of my favorite things about music, the ability to allow us to gain insight into a wholly different culture through sound and the emotions it can help us experience. Oh! And…I’m rambling again…” She trailed off, but Azriel truly didn’t mind. There was a long pause before she spoke again.

“Thank you,” She whispered. “Wow…I didn’t think I’d ever thank you for anything if I’m being honest.” Azriel chuckled, slightly shaking his head. 

“Just glad that I could help, even for a few moments.” He admitted as they sat down in the parlor. The conversation between them dwindled, the silence more comfortable than it had been in the past. But just as the silence grew, so did her anxiety. 

“I should head up to bed soon.” Her voice was quiet and tried to mask the worry.  He watched as she chewed on her lower lip, wondering if she was aware of how frequently she looked towards the clock on the wall. He noted that it was getting late, well past midnight. He also noted how Ruhn had still not arrived. 

“Will you be needing more of the tonic soon?” He asked, trying to keep a conversation going, hoping that it could possibly lead to a new topic to help ease her mind. She merely continued  to chew on her lower lip and began to pick at her nails. 

“He’s never been home this late before,” Her whisper was her only response. “It’s been a week. I was hoping to talk to him tonight…I can’t…” Her eyes flicked to the clock again. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Azriel tried to reassure. “But what is it you can’t do?”

“I can’t take the tonic tonight. If I take it for more than...a week at a time…” She sighed. “That’s when I pretty much reach my limit before I start to build a tolerance for opiates. After that I notice that I have to start upping the dosage to have the same effect. And that…that just won’t be good for me in the long run.” Azriel nodded in understanding, his own mother experienced the same issue from time to time. He watched as she continued to chew on her lip and pick at her nails. He wanted to rest his hands upon her before she hurt herself again but stopped himself. He could tell she was lost in thought and his touching her suddenly had the potential to undo all the progress they made over the past year.  

“Would you…would you like for me to stay here until he shows up?” Azriel asked tentatively. She nodded, her eyes still mostly glazed over from whatever scenario was playing out in her mind. “Go upstairs then and get some rest. I’ll let Cassian know that you won’t be at the training tomorrow.” She nodded again, making her way towards the staircase. Azriel watched closely, but remained a few steps behind her. As soon as she closed the bedroom door, he took a steadying breath and plopped himself on the staircase.  

Azriel sat on the center of the staircase, head bowed down as his elbows rested on his knees. It had been a couple of hours since (Y/N) went to bed, though his shadows informed that it was not at all a restful sleep. His own hearing could attest to her experiencing at least one partial nightmare that she was able to wake herself from without screaming. After the first hour of waiting for the Midgardian male to return he had decided that he was going to have a small chat with Ruhn upon his return.  

A few minutes later, Azriel heard the beating of Cassian’s wings in front of the townhouse. Given the hour it was slightly unusual for him to even be awake this late, much less out and about town. For a slight moment, Azriel even wondered if something may have happened to Ruhn. That thought was quickly dismissed as a second set of uneven steps were heard all the way from the gate.

As soon as the pair reached the front door Azriel was able to smell the stale and bitter stench of ale. Once the door opened the varying scents of different females were added to the mix. Azriel felt the shadow of rage begin to build within his gut. If the scents of the females truly indicated what he assumed, then he’d have every reason to physically beat some sense into Ruhn rather than just listen to whatever bullshit he may have spun as an explanation for his behavior.   

As soon as Ruhn stumbled through the door, he made a beeline for the parlor, falling face first on the couch. Cassian stood in the entryway, his gaze moving towards Azriel. “Go easy on him brother,” Cassian’s voice almost sounded defeated. “He’s been a mess all week and I figured he could use a break. So, I took him to Rita’s. He was quite the novelty amongst the females, I almost wonder if I should have kept a better eye on him.” Azriel stood from his spot on the stairs, nodding his acknowledgment of Cassian’s words, but his eyes remained on the other clearly exceedingly drunk male. 

Azriel descended the stairs turning to Cassian and sighed. “I got it from here.” Cassian nodded, leaving the townhouse and returning to his own home. With his arms crossed Azriel entered the parlor and stopped in the other male’s line of sight. Or at least it would have been his line of sight had Ruhn’s eyes had been open. 

“What happened between you and (Y/N)?” Azriel questioned. Ruhn merely groaned in response, arm falling off the side of the couch. Azriel sighed again, closing his eyes to take a deep breath and keep the building rage at a simmer. “She said you made her feel ‘forgotten.’ You of all people.” This time Ruhn managed to release a sequence of incoherent noises, only a few words making any sense.

“Stupid… can’t… gonna…up…”

Not even a second later Ruhn bolted up from the couch and ran towards the kitchen, without a care that he bumped into Azriel as he dashed by. Azriel quietly thanked the Mother that the purple eyed male made it to the kitchen sink before puking inside. Ruhn remained draped over the sink, breathing heavily and occasionally spitting into the basin. Azriel walked over to the male, the awful stench of stale ale, whiskey, and whatever food Ruhn had managed to eat nearly overpowering Azriel’s nostrils. Turning on the tap, Azriel rinsed the vomit down the drain before grabbing and filling a glass of water for the other male. Clearing his throat, Azriel garnered Ruhn’s attention, slightly shaking the glass of water. Ruhn made to reach for the glass, but Azriel withheld it. He needed to hear exactly what the hell happened between them, though he wasn’t entirely sure why he found himself caring so much about a squabble between them. 

“What. Did you say. To (Y/N)?” His speech was slow, voice filled with the dark undertone he reserved for his interrogations. He blinked away the surprise, having honestly not intended to use that tone when talking to Ruhn. 

“I fucked up.” Ruhn muttered, his voice a bit clearer now that he emptied a good portion of the contents of his stomach. 

“Yeah, I’m aware of that much. Question is: How?” Azriel insisted, hauling the younger male to sit at the small breakfast table on the far side of the kitchen. Ruhn stumbles over, the metal chair from the table squeaking against the tile floor as the male practically drops himself down. 

Ruhn leans his head back against the wall, “I called her ‘Lidia.’” 

“Lidia?” Azriel sat himself opposite the male across the small breakfast table. The water glass was still in the Illyrian’s hand, holding it just out of reach as incentive for answers. 

“Lidia Cervos, also known as ‘the Hind’. She was a female shifter from Midgard.” Ruhn paused, letting out a heavy sigh. “I thought… I don’ fuckin’ know.” He paused again, a wry chuckle escaping him. “I…cared ‘bout her. She died before I could… figure my shit out.” Ruhn chuckles again, but the laughter quickly turns to tears. “Lidia died…just to save me.”

Azriel remained quiet, taking in the information. He could almost see where this was going, but needed the other male to confirm, he’d long learned to never assume anything during an interrogation. Ruhn released a pathetic whine, his head falling to the table, forehead banging hard against the glass surface. Luckily it didn’t break. The younger male’s arms came up to support his head as he continued to rest it on the table. 

“Okay, so, you called her by another female’s name,” Azriel tried to brush off the icky feeling saying the words out loud gave him, “I’ve called Rhys Cassian and vice versa. So, it sounds like an honest and innocent mistake. Just a slip of the tongue. Unless-”

“I had her nipple in my mouth.” Ruhn’s voice was muffled by his arms, but the shame in his voice was as clear as the winter night skies of Illyria. Azriel felt the simmering rage turn into a boil and it took everything within him not to lash out. 

After a few deep breaths, he was finally able to respond with a simple, “Oh.”  

“Her sweet, perky nipple…” Ruhn trailed off, as if lost in the memory. “FUCK! I’m so stupid! How could I…I was thinking about (Y/N)! Her intoxicatin’ scent, the way it takes on a slight tinge of amber when she’s aroused. Fuckin’ Urd, I get so fuckin’ hard jus’ thinkin’ about it!”

“Alright, I don’t need to hear that.” Az shuddered. The last thing he wanted was to imagine the human woman in that state. Naked and moaning, another male’s mouth on her breast. He didn’t want to know, let alone allow himself to imagine what that change in her scent would taste like. The sweet and savory taste of the slickness between her…Azriel caught himself. The thoughts swirling around in his head took him by surprise. He couldn’t deny that the woman was attractive, but he couldn’t afford to have those thoughts. There were other…other things-people- he needed to focus on. Azriel shook his head, hoping the physical action would work to clear the questions forming in his mind about (Y/N). His focus returned to the blubbering male in front of him. 

“Why’d I say Lidia? I wasn’ thinkin’ ‘bout her, at least not then,” Ruhn continued, his tears were silent and slow. “I wanted that moment with (Y/N) for years now. I can’t believe I fucked it up. When Lucien-”

“Lucien? What does…” Azriel’s attention perked up at the mention of the Autumn male. “Lucien is mated.”

Ruhn sits up, scoffing at the reminder of Luicen’s relationship status, “Yeah, well his ‘mate’ won’ give ‘m the time of day, let alone even acknowledge the bond.” Ruhn took hold of the glass of water, drinking half of it quickly before continuing. “I may be new ‘round here, and mating bonds seem to be a little different, but I’m not blind. Elain wants nothin’ to do with him.”

“I still don’t see what that has to do with (Y/N)?” 

“I thought Lucien… he and (Y/N) would be something more than jus’ friends,” Ruhn explained. “But things changed after tha’ first trip to that other court. Lu kept his distance, and even if he didn’ ask me to help I would have. The past three years we’ve become so close.” He sighed, finishing the water in his glass. Azriel stood and refilled it for him before sitting back across from the male. “I didn’ wanna rush things between us either. She’s been through so much. Last thing on her mind was romance or sex. Then her birthday came; I wanted to make it special for her. I didn’ do it with the hope of anythin’, but…she kissed me an’ I thought, ‘Finally!’” He smiled softly to himself. “I could feel it, she wanted me as much as I wanted her.” Ruhn ran his hand through his mangled hair. “I jus’ had to fuck it up.” He reached for the refilled glass again, Azriel sliding it towards him. 

“Did you apologize?” Azriel asked, knowing that even if Ruhn had, the likelihood of her being receptive to that apology in the moment was minimal. 

“I tried,” Ruhn sighed, spinning the glass of water in his hands along the smooth glass surface of the table. 

Azriel sighed again, his own hand running through his short hair, as he debated on saying anything. His own thoughts surrounding the woman were jumbled. It would be so easy to withhold what he knew about her feelings, her worry for the Midgardian prince. Ruhn deserved to wallow in self pity. Deserved to spend a few more nights away from her. However, Azriel eventually settled on his earlier admission to himself. (Y/N) deserved someone that made her feel safe, and Ruhn made her feel safe, even if they were in the middle of a fight. “She misses you.”

“I miss her,” Ruhn picked up the glass, drinking the contents in a singular gulp, throwing it back like a shot. He paused, setting the glass back down on the table, “Did she really say I made her feel ‘forgotten?’” Azriel could only nod, causing Ruhn to groan, his head returning to rest against his arms on the table.  

“I can’t believe I did this. She’s all I think about and…” He trails off.  “Her softness. Her body is so soft, yet also firm, strong. Even with all the trainin’ over the years she still has those plush feminine curves.” Ruhn closed his eyes and groaned. “And her skin tasted like… like… fuck, I don’t even know how to describe it. Imagine your-your favorite dessert, the one that’s not overwhelmingly sweet so you savor every bite. You then spend the rest of your life only wanting that flavor, craving it and daydreaming about the next time you’ll get a taste.” 

The Shadowsinger shifted his wings, bringing them closer to his body. Even his shadows began to swirl and vibrate as the other male’s description of how the human woman’s nipple tasted made his cock twitch. With a deep breath Azriel willed himself to remain soft. 

“Lidia…the shit with Lidia is just a jumble of thread. I wanna ignore it; a loose end with no closure.” Silver tears returned to line purple irises. “I had just found her and…there’s a lot of shit I gotta unpack ‘bout her. I sure as Hel didn’ think I’d find anyone else, but…(Y/N) just had to walk into that fuckin’ dining room. It’s like…the more time I spend with her, the more I get to know her, fuck… she is jus’ what I needed. Straight from my dreams. I felt this way with Lidia and… it’s so fuckin’ hard,” Despite the cracks in his voice, his words became clearer. “I feel guilty, like I shouldn’ wanna even be with anyone else. And ashamed, ashamed that I didn’ grieve the female that was likely-” The prince paused, trying to compose the tears that wouldn’t stop. Azriel hated to admit it, but the young shadow wielder was a damn mess without (Y/N). “I’m falling in love…I’m in love with (Y/N).”

Love. That simple word rattled something deep in Azriel, a wave of nausea swirled in his gut. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t as if the Prince’s behaviors didn’t give away his feelings towards the woman. Nevertheless, the Shadowsinger didn’t expect to hear that exact word, that exact confession and the genuine emotion in Ruhn’s voice as he finally expressed the sentiment out loud. Azriel felt the blood rush to his head, his vision tunneling as the nausea built and acidic bile burned his throat. His mind echoed a singular truth: Ruhn is in love with (Y/N). The thought played over and over in his mind on a tortuous loop. 

Another thought struck Azriel, why the hell did he even care? Why did he care if any male- Human, Fae, or otherwise-held any feelings or sexual fantasies for (Y/N)? He didn’t. He didn’t care. His body just responded as any sexually frustrated male would upon hearing Ruhn’s desire for her. Azriel reminded himself that he’d had similar thoughts about Elain many times over the past few years. Said fantasies regarding Elain made perfect sense for Azriel to have. Just like it made perfect sense for the male crying in front of him to be in love with the human woman that had slowly crept into all of their lives. But if he didn’t care, why did Ruhn’s spoken confession cause such a visceral reaction? Could it be guilt? Azriel recognized that most of his efforts to make (Y/N) feel comfortable in this world stemmed from the guilt from…that week of torture. That had to be what caused these feelings churning deep inside him. Guilt that he wasn’t the one to make her feel safe and secure after he had been the one to break her in the first place. 

It wasn’t anything more than that. It wasn’t anything like what he felt for other females in his life. (Y/N) wasn’t all that unique; sure, she was kind, compassionate, and resilient as hell, but so were Elain and Gwyn, and many of the other Priestesses he’d come to know during the morning training sessions. This feeling in his stomach, and the thoughts now swirling around in his head were all just the result of a guilty conscience and nothing more. Settling on this rationale, the nausea in his stomach subsided, and the rushing of blood in his ears died away, allowing the Spy Master to refocus on the still struggling and drunk male in front of him.   

“I really fucked up,” Ruhn held his face in his hands, elbows resting on the glass table. “I don’ think…I can’t…atone for something like this. Fuckin’ Hel…jus’ a piece a shit…makin’  her feel forgotten.” Azriel continued to listen quietly, biting his tongue to keep his agreement of the Midgaridan’s self assessment to himself. 

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Ruhn’s head now leaning back against the wall of the breakfast nook. Azriel glances between the male and his empty water glass, a few minutes pass by before he stands. Picking up the glass from Ruhn’s limp grip, he refilled it a final time. However, instead of returning to his previous perch, he went over to the opposite side of the kitchen. Pulling out a loaf of bread, he ripped off a sizable chunk to then set down in front of the night haired male. Azriel had to pause for the briefest of moments, the tears in Ruhn’s purple eyes reminding the Shadowsinger of Rhysand after he returned from Amarantha’s grasp. 

“Apologize.” Azriel tried to keep his voice soft yet stern. “Don’t just ‘try.’ Make her listen and apologize.” 

“Make her listen, huh?” Ruhn chuckled darkly, picking at the chuck of bread. “You interrogated and tortured her for a week, and you now spend hours with her every day. Yet you still don’t know a fuckin’ thing ‘bout her.” Azriel stopped and turned from where he stood in the doorway leading towards the hall. He was about to counter the Prince’s words, but the utterly defeated look on the male’s face gave him pause. 

“You’re right,” He loosened a heavy breath. “You know her better than I do. So figure something out. Maybe a grand gesture or something.” 

Ruhn began to laugh, “I didn’t peg you as the romantic type Azzie.” Azriel tensed his shoulders at the nickname, mentally brushing it off due to the other male’s drunk status. He looked towards the clock on the wall, dawn was only a couple of hours away now. 

“Look,” The spy master ran his fingers through his hair, “Just…just talk to her. If a grand gesture won’t work, then start with a small one. She made a comment about not really knowing you. That sounds like a good place to start.”

“The last female I opened up to was killed,” Ruhn lifted the water glass to his lips, his movements slow, as if the glass held the weight of his heavy words. The sips he took were slow and deliberate. His eyes glazed over as he stared ahead.  Azriel sighed again. While he kept most of his thoughts to himself, he also understood the other male’s hesitancy. However, the idiot in front of him created this issue. It wasn’t up to Azriel to fix it nor tell him exactly how to do so. Yet, that is exactly what he found himself doing.   

“If I was in your position, trying to regain the trust of someone I was in love with, I’d tell her everything and not hide a single part of who I am.” Azriel stepped closer to the male still sitting at the table. “She’d know of every crime, and every life I’ve taken or irrevocably altered. She’d know about my past and the story behind every single visible and invisible scar. She’d know the reasons behind every sacrifice I’ve made over the last few centuries. Especially regarding the safety of those I love and care for. She would become an integral part of my life, she’d know my loved ones and they would know her.” Azriel didn’t care that Ruhn began to shrink away in shame as he loomed over the younger male; the unintended intimidation of flared wings appeared to be just the thing the “Starborn” Prince needed to understand that any apology to a loved one could not be half assed. “I’d lay my soul bare before her… and if she understood, if she stuck around, and she could feel safe with me then I’d know with complete certainty she would be worth it.”

“And if she couldn’t?” Ruhn questioned. Azriel paused, he knew what answer he would receive from (Y/N) if he truly was in Ruhn’s position; and that would be a very different response than what she would grant the Midgardian Prince. 

“Just talk to her Ruhn,” He muttered, wings returning to tuck in close before turning around to exit the kitchen. “She wants to listen.” Ruhn’s midnight hair shifts as he nods, a long contemplative sigh escaping his lungs. 

“I’ll talk to her, tell her everything…” he mumbled, placing his head on his arms as they rested on the table top.

“And apologize.” Azriel reminded sternly. 

“And apologize,” Ruhn nodded, his voice drifting off as he closed his eyes. Within seconds the younger male was asleep at the table. Azriel didn’t even bother to wake him, perfectly content to let the other male’s muscles cramp from the awkward sleeping position. 

Azriel made it to the bottom landing of the staircase before a soft whimper caught his attention. Against his better judgment, he ascended the stairs giving into the pull he felt to check on (Y/N). The door was already slightly ajar, the light from the hall flooding into the darkness of the bedroom. The beam of light streaked across the wooden floorboards, up along the bed. Her lower limbs tangled up in the wine red colored sheets. He instantly knew that the level of dishevelment was the result of her tossing and turning during a nightmare.  

His hazel eyes followed along her legs, red sheets fading into the black of her night dress. His gaze continued to travel up, snagging on an unexpected exposure of soft flesh. Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes drank in the sight of her uncovered breast. He tried to avert his eyes, but they continued to linger, a part of him wanting to know if Ruhn’s description was accurate. His questions were answered as she shifted, and a perky nipple made visible in the light from the hall. 

One second Azriel stood frozen in his spot, the next, he was sprinting down the steps and out the front door of the townhouse. The cool air filling his lungs helped him regain his senses long enough to force the organ between his legs to return to a limp state. He glanced back at the townhouse, confusion marking his face. Perhaps he was spending too much time with the human…he shook his head, taking a few steps to exit the gate. It had also been quite some time since he enjoyed the company of a female, perhaps it was time to find that release. As soon as he cleared the gate of the townhouse, Azriel shot into the skies of Velaris, taking his time to process the conflicting and concerning thoughts in his head before returning to the House of Wind.

The sound of glass shattering startled Ruhn awake. Sitting bolt upright, he looked around the darkened room, moonlight filtering through the bay window of the breakfast nook in the kitchen. His heart pounded inside his chest, as he took in the sight of the broken water glass now on the floor.  It took a few more moments for him to get his bearings and remember what transpired earlier in the evening. He could still smell the alcohol, and the various scents of what he could only assume were Fae females on his clothes. He needed to change. He needed to clean up this glass first. It took him ten minutes, but he finally located a broom and dustpan and swept up the shards, dumping them in what appeared to resemble a trash can. His vision was still slightly blurred as the headache of what was sure to become a monster of a hangover made an appearance. 

Ruhn took a few more minutes for himself at the kitchen sink. Grabbing a new, clean glass, he filled it with water from the tap, taking small sips and deep breaths. Gathering the stamina and the courage to face going upstairs. Bits and pieces of his conversation with Azriel stuck out in his mind. He knew that he had to talk to (Y/N). To apologize again, especially now that the woman had some time to get her own thoughts in order. He also knew that Az and Cass were right. He and (Y/N) wouldn’t get anywhere if he didn’t also open up to her. He supposed that he could start small, let her know some of the positives of his life before telling her about all the fucked up shit. 

He finished the glass of water, and slowly made his way upstairs. As he reached the top landing, he heard a faint whimper. He instantly recognized the sound and even in his hazy mind realized that (Y/N) had not taken her tonic tonight. He sighed, a part of his heart breaking that he had allowed himself to fuck around while she suffered. She had already been using the tonic for a full two weeks at this point. One week while with Lucien, and now this past week during their time apart. The Prince closed his eyes, standing outside the bedroom door debating if he should even enter. He heard her sharp movements and that was enough for him to move his feet forward. 

Ruhn quietly entered the bedroom, careful as not to wake the woman sleeping in the bed. Their bed, he reminded himself. The one that he missed sharing. He missed her warmth and the softness of her body as he would curl around it. They had slept next to each other for the past few years and he was surprised by how much he missed her. The past week had been one of the worst he endured since he first arrived. Tossing and turning. Panicking when he couldn’t feel her lying next to him. He lost count of how many times he startled awake to find himself in a room separated from her. Cassian had seen the change in his attention, and after a week decided that it would be a good idea to let off some steam by taking him to a place called Rita’s. 

He carefully made his way around to his side of the bed. Sat on the edge, he took off his shoes; his pants and shirt quickly followed suit. He didn’t care that (Y/N) would likely be pissed that he joined her in bed before she allowed it. He needed to feel her, to hold her. Especially if she had been too afraid to take the tonic tonight.  

He knew that he needed to apologize, he only hoped that she was more willing to listen to him now. He had spent most of the evening trying to figure out exactly what to tell her. Where would he start? Cassian advised to start at the beginning, and Az…well all Ruhn could remember was Azriel telling him to just talk to her. However, which “beginning” would be the best to start off with? Should he tell her about his childhood, his mother, and his dickhead of a Father? Or should he start with telling her more about Midgard and what his life was like before his sister turned it all upside down. Honestly, with the way his head was starting to pound he may as well just flip a coin. Whatever he chose to tell her first didn’t matter. All that matters is that he would be telling her something. 

Ruhn lifted the sheet, immediately noticing that her body was curled in on itself, back towards the center of the bed. She only did that when a nightmare was starting to take hold. He laid down next to her, and carefully wrapped his arm around her middle. Her body immediately began to relax. The knowledge made him smile, his own shoulders and upper back releasing their built up tension. He curled the rest of his taller frame around her, perfectly molding himself to her. She stirred, hips twitching as if she was going to turn over. Ruhn moved his hand seeking hers, interlacing their fingers once it was found. 

She turned over to face him, and that’s when he heard her soft whimpers. Even though he enveloped her during the early stages of her nightmare, it seemed that whatever had played in her mind had already done its intended damage. He hated watching her cry, especially when he felt so powerless against the forces that brought her to tears each and every time. 

He adjusted his limbs to accommodate their new position. One of her legs wiggling its way in between his. His arm wrapped around her back, snaking up her shoulder blades, allowing his fingers to find purchase in her hair. He gently tugged on the roots, reassuring her that he was there. She let out a shaky breath and the smallest whine before pressing her face into his chest. 

“It’s okay baby,” He assured, another gentle tug, “I’m here. You’re safe.” She seemed to relax a bit more at his dulcet timber. “Go back to sleep. I’m right here.” 

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