#ofhyp

Made by me, @themadmorrigan, in Wonderdraft. WIP still; also, the House of Spirits area is supposed to be blue but Wonderdraft said no.

Pursuant to this silly post from yesterday...

“What does Rhys want with Elain?” [Lucien] asked, figuring his odds of being ignored or attacked were roughly about even. “She didn’t do anything but talk at the ceremony.”

At the mention of Elain's name, Azriel’s expression shuttered. “He wants any information she might know about Nesta's whereabouts.”

Lucien huffed wryly through his nose. “What, Rhysand thinks this whole thing was a planned operation?”

“With your brother?” Azriel turned to him and that ugly, wounded thing was back behind the Illyrian’s hazel eyes again. “You know he’s fascinated with Nesta. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

Of course he wouldn’t. “Then why is Elain the one being questioned right now? You’re his spymaster, answer me honestly: do you think she knows anything?”

It took Azriel a while to get a response, but ultimately he did—a shrug. Lucien’s opinion of the Shadowsinger was waning precipitously with each passing second. “Maybe. But I doubt it. She generally stays away from politics and Court business. Still, she was with Nesta before the ceremony.”

"So was Feyre," Lucien pointed out.

Azriel scoffed. “Rhys isn't worried about Feyre, Vanserra." 

(It’’s maddening, the way they keep anything important from me, Elain had complained a few weeks before, venting at him over a steaming cup of chrysanthemum tea. As if I’m too dim to comprehend politics or be able to offer insight into what's going on. I offered to help them scry for the Trove, you know. I told them to come get me when they wanted to start but no one ever did.)

“I see…” Lucien said in a low voice, trying—more or less successfully—to keep his expression neutral.

“But…” Azriel added unexpectedly, surprising Lucien, “it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that she Saw something in one of her visions before her Sight slowed down.”

Well now that was an interesting thought. He braced himself to stand, then—because sitting still wouldn’t happen again until his ma–until Elain walked back through that door. He needed to pace, to do something. “Perhaps, but a simple questioning shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, should it?”

“Depends on how one does it.”

Something about the other male’s tone gave Lucien pause. That and because what Rhysand’s torturer had hinted at was uncomfortably close to… well, actual torture. Lucien let out a faint, disbelieving chuckle. “Surely Elain Archeron doesn’t warrant ‘advanced interrogation’ tactics, though? She’s family, Shadowsinger.”

The Shadowsinger didn’t seem to have a response to that, and Lucien’s gut twisted sharply with dread. “Right?”

Azriel didn’t even look at him as he responded. “I trust Rhys to use his best judgment in this situation. He always does, where family is concerned.”

Tags behind the cut - comment if you would like to be added so you get notified when this BEHEMOTH chapter finally comes out (soon, I hope)!

(Also, uh... if you haven't seen my edit to Chapter 3 of The Singer Addresses His Audience, you may want to brush up.)

St. Marthe the Brave, patron of rivers - a Priestess who slew the Tarasque, the greatest of the river beasts that dwelled within the Riviere Spiriteaux. (Based off of the legend of St. Martha and the Tarasque!)

St. Belle the Clever, Lady of Autumn, Matron of Flame: a noble daughter who dressed as a male to defend the Autumn Lands, assembled a WILD crew of her fellow soldiers, and - with said wild crew and her supernatural horse - won back the fortune of the Autumn King as well as his favor. (Yes, it's VERY Mulan-like, but I based it off of the story of Belle-Belle of Le Chevalier Fortuné. Not mentioned but definitely present: St. Belle's antagonistic and [more than a little] sapphic relationship with the Autumn Queen.)

St. Romain the Kind, patron of mercy - formerly the lone seelie representative of the Autumn Land's ruling council [long story on that one], Romain was tasked with slaying the legendary Gargouille, a dragon, with the help of a condemned male (or so his Goddess-prompted dream told him). That male was…

St. Edmond the Condemned - a condemned prisoner who was pardoned by St. Romain while on death row and helped to entrap and slay the Gargouille. St. Edmond was granted clemency and joined the Most Venerable Order, whereupon he performed a number of miracles during the rest of his life. Some tales even say he ascended to the role of High Priest in his lifetime, which is nearly unheard of across all three aspects of the Mother. (Based off of the legend of St. Romanus and the Gargouille with a tiny dash of The Count of Monte Cristo thrown in.)

St. Ankou, the Father of Dust, patron of the dead and second chances. Especially venerated by those who worship the Crone. He was a cruel, boastful Autumn prince who literally met Death during a hunting trip and challenged him to see who could kill a black stag first; he bested Death, but was cursed to take his place for the rest of his years. He then spent the rest of his life trying to repent and performing miracles for the downtrodden. (Based off of the legend of the Ankou and the tales of Robert the Devil.)

St. Castile the Simple, patron of farmers - a simple man, he slew a wolf terrorizing the farmland of the Harvest Court that turned out to be a man, but was mauled in the process (based off of the tale of La Bête du Gévaudan, and the Loup Garou). He arose as a werewolf, but was blessed by the Mother to be able to control his transformations. He went on to defend the Court of Harvests as one of its mightiest warriors.

Just a little snippet for very patient people! Remember, YGM isn't on hiatus, I'm just taking a break to make space for another fic update! :)

Lucien ground his jaw even more. It was, [Elain] supposed, annoying but reasonable. “Any other terms?” he grunted.

Rhys’ smile grew alarmingly sharp and his violet eyes glittered. “Just the one. While I understand that you two have been seeing one another, if Elain is going to train in Day under your escort, Lucien, then I don’t want my mate and I to spend the next several weeks wondering whether you’re using proximity to potentially influence anything. You will not touch Elain while away for her training."

Mortification, bright and hot, rose in Lucien’s face and the oily feeling of shame flooded the bond. “I will have you know that I have been nothing but respectful—”

“I beg your pardon?” Elain cut him off sharply, rising abruptly to her feet. “Nobody here gets the right to decide who can or cannot touch me—”

“Oh, it’s nothing personal,” Rhysand insisted, still smiling as he waved her off. Elain didn’t need to be a daemati or half a millennium old to know how much of a lie that was, though the why of it was still a mystery. “It’s the mating bond, that’s all. I know from firsthand experience how hard those instincts are to overcome, especially when one’s mate is in close proximity.” He turned to her then. “Think of Lucien as… oh, what did Feyre call them… the adults that escorted eligible young ladies?”

“Chaperones,” Elain answered stiffly.

“Yes, that!  Much obliged, Elain.” The High Lord clapped his hands together briskly. “But! Those are my terms, if you both are truly serious about pursuing training in Day.”

Lucien was staring daggers at him. Broadswords, even, before he barked a short, humorless laugh. “You really think that the bond is all this is about, Rhysand?”

“I think,” Rhys answered, perfectly pleasantly, “that you’re a male who’s spent years waiting for an opportunity, and that you’ve conveniently presented me with a plan during a crisis that places you both together, in another court, under minimal supervision.” His eyes went hard, suddenly. “So convince me otherwise.”

Lucien opened his mouth but hesitated, choosing instead to weigh his words; Elain decided to fill the silence. “He doesn’t need to.”

“Elain—” Lucien interjected.

“I agree,” Elain declared. “I accept the terms, or whatever you say to agree.”

A sudden shock of pain bloomed in between her shoulders, at the base of her neck; reaching back to rub at the spot, the skin felt smooth but hot, like she’d been resting against a hot water bottle. She watched as a moment later Lucien and Rhysand did the same thing.

“The bargain is struck,” intoned Rhys. “So it is, and so shall it be.”

“Heh,” murmured Lucien, gazing between Elain’s shoulder blades. “Elain, move your hand?” She did. “A blue-black moon and sun against a field of wildflowers… oh my, that’s colorful.”

“Colorful?” Rhys asked petulantly. “Five hundred years of making bargains and now I get one with color?” He seemed affronted by the entire notion. “How many?”

Lucien could barely contain his smile. “So many colors, High Lord.”

Rhys swore in High Velarian.

Taglist behind the cut! Let me know if you want to be added for when Chapter 2 comes out. :)

Banner by me! Blue music notes and staff below by @saradika-graphics!

Part 1.5 of the Or Forever Hold Your Peace series. Part 1 - We Both Go Down Together - can be found here. The prologue for Part 2 - The Harrowed and the Haunted - can be found here.

Status: Complete Rating: T (language) Relationships: Nessian, with crumbs for Gwynriel and Emorie that never quite got off the ground

Thank you to my betas for chapter 3, @chelseamorninggirl, @frostystarlight, and @gooseyjossip!

Snippet:

“What do you mean,” Azriel asked slowly, enunciating the syllables of each word slowly and crisply, “that you think the fire was your fault, Cassian?” The temperature around them dropped even further in a matter of seconds and all the little noises that tended to come with older buildings—walls settling, wind rattling the windows—paused at once. The House, it seemed, also wanted to know the answer to that question.  Instead of answering immediately, Cassian swallowed; he could feel his heartbeat kicking in his throat, the strong staccato beat of a bass drum, growing faster in tempo as the combination of nerves, shame, anger, and fear for his mate—because where in Hel was she?—continued to descend upon him. Nesta was missing. Azriel’s words echoed in his mind: Her mate abandoned her on her mating day! You can’t understand how to make a godsdamned decision to save your life! It was his fault, ultimately, that Nesta was missing. His heart beat a little faster still. He could still salvage this. He had to salvage this, even though it meant revealing secrets and insecurities that weren't his to tell, a boundary Nesta had always been very clear about. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again as a thought occurred to him. It was a firm boundary, but she had gone missing and if it was a detail that could help find her…?  Fuck it. He’d already done so much wrong that day, what was one more strike against him? “I forgot to mention to Rhys that Nesta…” Cassian finally answered after a deep breath, “That, uh, she can’t handle the sound of logs popping in a fire.”

Read Chapter 3 here!

Start at the beginning!

taglist behind cut!

Banner by me!

Part 2 of the Or Forever Hold Your Peace series. Part 1 - We Both Go Down Together, and Part 1.5 - The Singer Addresses His Audience can be found at their respective links.

Status: Chapter 2 (of 5 planned) Rating: M Relationships: Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra, Nesta Archeron x Eris Vanserra Total Word Count: 18,648

Fic Summary:

When Nesta Archeron - one of the most powerful and well-known fae in all of Prythian - disappears at her own mating ceremony along with the infamous prince of Autumn, the Night Court's Inner Circle is thrown into a tizzy: centuries-long friendships are tested, and previously hidden motives, truths, and feelings finally surface to see the light of day. But then Rhysand taps Elain to find Nesta as soon as possible, and the gentle seer finds herself in an uncomfortably familiar, deeply unwanted situation.

Thankfully, her mate is there to make sure history doesn't repeat itself.

The Harrowed and the Haunted is a story told from two perspectives: (1) Elain and Lucien's, as they travel to Day and work to hone Elain's power and find Nesta's whereabouts, and (2) Nesta and Eris', as she begins the healing process somewhere entirely unexpected, and Eris grapples with the enormity of what he's done in bringing a member of a foreign and hostile court back to Autumn.

Read Chapter 2 here!

Start at the Prologue!

Taglist behind cut! If you'd like to be added, let me know. :)

Here's where Autumn is, at present:

Chapter 2 of The Singer Addresses His Audience is in beta, and that story is definitely getting a third chapter.

Sneak preview of chapter 2 behind the cut! (And note, I take some liberties with who knows about the House.)