#windhaven

I have learned that I can't write about anything unless I can visualise it. Unlike SJM, I can't keep everything in my head—(although, arguably, neither can she)—so I need maps and diagrams. "3D" model of Windhaven is based off of drawings of glacial landforms. Mountainous landscapes were based off of staring at many, many pictures of mountain ranges in Europe (i.e., the Alps), New Zealand, and the USA.

Gwyn Berdara - First priestess to join training. First Valkyrie in 500 years. First female to participate in the Blood Rite. First female Carynthian.

CHAPTER ONE The Invitation

Cassian x reader

summary My reputation as a healer percedes me and the Night Court invites me to help around Windhaven. Brutal Illyrians swarm around me. But there is one that is more than a brute...

warnings bit of angst

words 2,2k

an Not beta read, all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy. Please comment and reblog if you like my work <3

back to More than a Brute Masterlist

The invitation came on a crisp parchment, sealed with the unmistakable sigil of the Night Court. My fingers trembled as I studied the elegant script. 

YN,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. Word of your exceptional healing abilities has reached me, and I find myself most intrigued. Your talent is a rare gift, and I believe there are matters we could discuss that would be of mutual benefit. 

I would like to invite you to join me to dinner in the Night Court this evening.

Should you accept this invitation, a member of my Court will escort you at your convenience. I eagerly await your response and hope to have the honor of your presence.

With respect and anticipation,

Rhysand

Checkmate

It was snowing lightly as Cassian landed heavy footed on the ground in Windhaven. Stones crunched beneath his boots and the wind blew violently through the barracks. He did not feel the bite of the cold, as he was used to it since being a small child. He shook out his wings after having flown for hours into the camp, nestled among the high mountain range and folded them in tightly. Most warriors glanced his way and nodded a silent greeting. The young ones looked at him in awe and admiration, after probably heard stories about his battles and fights. Cassian squared his shoulders and nodded back to the elders and smirked internally at the younglings’ gawking.

He strode in measured strides to the tent, clenching his jaw once, knowing what shitshow he was about to walk in to. Before he could pull away the flap, a felt a hand land softly on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Azriel standing next to him, his face void of any emotion, which was no surprise. He knew how much Azriel despised this place, having never felt welcomed or at home here amongst the brutality of the other males. They exchanged a look for a few seconds, and his brother tilted his head to the ground. Ready. Cassian took a deep breath and opened the flap to enter.

Since the Bloodrite everything had gone to shits. The warlords were furious and demanded answers to how it was possible, that women, especially non-Illyrians, had entered in the first place. The sacred tradition had been spat on and sullied, something the ancient warlords were not going to accept. Rhysand had been arguing for ten days, trying to find common ground and calming their spirits, but to no avail. Cassian was torn between his position as the General to the Night Court as well as his devotion to his mate, Nesta. Their relationship had been strained since then too, but he did not let his emotions about that come to show.

When he entered the tent, he was hit with the sound of many different Illyrians speaking loudly, one trying to overpower the other with the volume of his voice. They spoke on top of each other, obviously not listening to anything than themselves. He scanned the room and caught Rhysand sitting on a chair, rubbing his temples. He could see that his brother was deflated and exhausted. All the war lords were standing, puffing their chests and rising to their full height. Their wings were either pulled in tightly or flapping every now and then in agitation. He could taste the strong odor of testosterone in the air, it would only be a matter of minutes before fists started flying.

As Cassian entered the room, Rhysand looked up at him in recognition and slid his violet eyes to Azriel, who was standing behind him. The latter stared back and broadened his shoulders. Cassian caught the minimal squinting in his eyes, directed at Rhys, them suddenly turning cold and challenging. He looked back to the High Lord, who sported a similar look mirroring his brother. “What the fuck is going on between you?” Cassian asked lowly. Azriel did not answer but held the stare, his shadows starting to whip around him furiously.

He was about the ask more when suddenly a war lord pound his fist so heavily on the wooden table, he thought either the wood or his bones would snap. The thumping sound shot through the tent and for a second no one said a word. He swung around and pointed a callused and meaty finger at Cassian. “I knew that wench would defile our traditions, the second you brought her here and demanded we train her! Now look what it has brought us!” he shouted. Fire broke out in his body, the pulse in his head was pounding heavily. The want to spit in his face and punch it to a pulp burned his insides but he pushed those needs down with a measured exhale. Instead, he ground his teeth until he heard his jaw pop. “That abomination you call a m– “

The ranting was cut short by the deep sound of a chuckle coming from the other entrance of the tent. Devlon, the Lord of Windhaven Camp, emerged in an unusual relaxed and casual stance, his body slightly angled away from the others. His wings were somewhat opened in a friendly pose, held high and proud. Was he posturing? Devlon was a tall, stocky, broad-shouldered older male and Cassian was perplexed to what he was seeing, however the older male walked slowly further into the tent, his body and head still turned sideways. The General could hear the other Illyrians outside the tent squabbling and pushing each other, arguing about who could look inside.

As he came closer, the males inside the tent could see what the fuss was about. A delicate, lovely figure was on Devlon’s side and Cassian’s breath caught when he recognized that it was Elain who was walking arm in arm with the Lord of Windhaven. His right wing was slightly more open, curved airily around her but with a respectful distance, not touching her. Elain wore a soft purple dress with flowers embroidered on it. It was cut modestly and flared at her hips, but it accentuated her elegant neck and collarbones, dipping slightly in the front. Her hair was swept back loosely with bronze pins and curls framed her round face. Her big brown eyes were trained on Devlon, and she smiled a bashful smile at something he had said.

Azriel visibly tensed next to Cassian, and he tore his eyes away to look at Rhysand, who smirked devilishly at his brothers. He rose lazily from his seat and strode over to his sister-in-law, his hands in his pockets. Devlon’s smile disappeared as he looked at Rhysand who drawled “I see you are in the best company. Care to join us for our trial discussion? It seems your position is highly needed.”

Elain looked up into Devlon’s face, open and innocent, blinking slowly. The older male tensed his wings drawing them closer to his body, but he did not fold them in completely. “It seems a decision has already been made. Arguing more is a waste of time” he said, his deep voice vibrating. “Is that so?” Rhysand inquired.

At that moment the arguing between the war lords jumpstarted again and insults were thrown about. Rhysand’s patience was running thin, so he summoned his power which sent a powerful wave through the room. It shook the ground and pushed the flaps of the tent open aggressively. Outside a big cluster of Illyrians had formed, all peeking into the tent trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside. Or more, of who was inside.

Shadows whipped and pushed the flaps back and shut them tightly, drowning out the indignant huffs of the outsiders. Silence followed and Rhysand spoke impatiently to Devlon “So I assume your position has not changed? Nesta and the others are to be punished for partaking in the Bloodrite.” Elain looked at the addressed, her lips parting slightly. She swallowed slowly and started to pull her hand from the crook of his arm. “Oh… well…Nesta is my sister after all.” She blinked a few times. Devlon tensed and widened his eyes in silent alarm at her slow recoiling. “I am sure we will find another solution to please all sides.” He quickly offered and flexed his arm, in the hopes of stalling her departure.

Rhysand slid his hand out of his pocket and offered it palm up to Elain, who took it and stepped away from the Lord of Windhaven. The older Illyrian opened and closed his battle worn wings in a single, powerful motion and shut them along his back. He was trying to hide his displeasure, his eyes darting between Rhysand and Elain.

“I expect a genuine and fair solution by nightfall. During dinner you will inform me of your consensus, Devlon.” The High Lord drawled and gave him one hard look, his violet eyes churning menacingly. He took a step backwards, Elain following him, and they walked towards the exit. Cassian could not believe what was happening and kept a cool face even though his heart was beating like a galloping horse in his chest. Rhysand smirked and slid his eyes to Azriel, who was still standing rigid and alert. His shadows whipped and hissed around him, swallowing most of his legs and arms. Almost concealed behind the darkness Cassian could see that his brother had his hands balled into fists which were shaking. His shoulders tense and jaw locked, his hazel eyes glowed, cataloguing analyzing every move to precision.

Rhysand opened the flap and let his sister-in-law step out before him, to the utter delight of the young Illyrians, whose squabbling abruptly came to a halt. Hungry eyes took in Elain who seemed unfazed about this, and the High Lord was about to leave the tent when Devlon spoke in his deep voice “We will come to an agreement by nightfall, and we will discuss the rest at dinner. Will…Lady Elain be there too?” The question was asked almost softly and hopeful. Cassian drew his brows together in confusion. Women were never allowed to attend dinner with the war lords. What a stupid question was that?

AO3 to chapter 1: Welcome Home

"It was with gravitas she stood, as she had been trained to do, once. In a past life, when she was still human and had a purpose."

Nyx x Reader

Summary: Ever since he can remember, Nyx has dreamt of the same girl. Without any idea who she is or if she even exists, how could he ever find her? 

Warnings: insomnia, Devlon / Windhaven

Word Count: 2,556

A/N: I’m thinking this is gonna have at least 3 parts so stay tuned for those! I hope you guys enjoy this one! Let me know what you think! <3

part 2 part 3

--------------------------------------------------------------

Nyx wakes up most days before dawn for an early morning training session with his uncles. Today however, was not one of those days. 

He was tossing and turning the majority of the night, hoping that when he does finally fall asleep, he dreams of her.

 Ever since he can remember, Nyx’s dreams have had visions of his mate. At least that’s who he assumes it is. 

Nyx knows that his dad had visions of his mom in his dreams way before they met. Being too embarrassed to ask what the dreams mean, Nyx keeps everything to himself. He’s tried to ask hypothetical and broad questions, but his family are all busybodies so he stopped asking. 

He wonders if she dreams of him too, if she wants to know who he is just as bad as he does. 

Tonight’s dream is no different. A stunning angel-like figure standing right in front of him surrounded by a cloud of white smoke. She has fair skin and onyx colored hair that is always styled perfectly. 

But her eyes, her eyes are his favorite part. The left is a rich chocolate brown color, the right a deep sea blue. He’s never seen anyone in real life with two different colored eyes, he didn’t even know that was a thing. 

*knock* *knock*

Nyx wakes with a jump. He looks out the window to see the sun is already fully up. He’s late for training this morning.

“Nyx? Are you in there?” 

Nyx wipes the drool off his chin, standing up to make the bed. He quickly realizes he slept naked that night. 

“Um, yeah mom I’m here. Just give me a second.”

Thankfully it was his Mom who came to get him, anyone else would have just barged in. 

“Okay honey, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Yep, totally fine. Thanks”

With that Feyre left to go join the training session. Nyx shakes out his wings and heads over to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Hopefully his uncle Cassian won’t harass him too much for being late.

——

After training, Nyx heads back to his room to freshen up. Changing out of his leathers, he starts filling up the bathtub. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eye bags have doubled their darkness in the past few days and his hair is slicked down to his forehead with sweat. 

Deciding he needs to take better care of himself, Nyx chooses to bathe with his best smelling soaps. Massaging his sore muscles as he goes along, taking his time with his wings. 

Once the water has gone cold, Nyx grabs a fluffy towel to dry himself off. Changing into comfy clothes, he grabs his sketchbook and heads downstairs for breakfast.

As he rounds the corner, he can hear the voices of his family growing louder. 

“All I’m saying is that Az should have waited a second. That’s all!” Cassian says with a bag of ice held to his eye. 

“Maybe, if you weren’t so distracted by me, you would have been able to block his punch.” Nesta chimes in walking over to hold the ice for him.

“Maybe, if you didn’t look so damn- Hey kiddo! When did you get down here?” Cassian asks nervously looking around the room. 

“Um, Just now uncle Cas. Don’t worry, I didn’t hear much.” Nyx mumbles walking over to the counter to grab an apple. He stumbles over to grab a seat in between his mom and his uncle Azriel. 

Nyx takes a bite of his apple, wipes off the juice that drips down his chin with the back of his hand, and gets to work. He’s been trying to draw the girl in his dreams, but he can never get the details just right. 

He’s just finished the outline when Az leans over and whispers, “Do you know her?” 

Nyx looks up to see his uncle staring fondly at him. “What?” he manages to get out.

“That’s the same girl you always draw right? Is she your friend?”

Nyx looks around to see if anyone heard what Az just said. After finding that no one was paying attention, he whispers back. “Not personally, no.”

Az stares at him clearly confused, he prompts Nyx to continue. 

With a sigh Nyx says, “Can we talk about this later?”

Azriel nods and goes back to eating. Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, Nyx moves over to the living room and plops down on the couch. He’s nearly done with his sketch, taking his time in order to get the details right.

Rhys comes over and sits down on the couch across from Nyx, staring with a feline grin. 

“Yes dad?”

“Who is she?” Rhys asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Nyx looks up trying not to show his surprise. Knowing he can’t lie to his dad, he puts down his mental walls and shows him everything. From the very first dream to last night’s.

Rhys stumbles back, now wide eyed. “Feyre darling, come in here please.” Feyre slowly comes walking into the living room, same expression as her mate. Nyx knows his dad just showed her everything.

“Baby, is she- is she your mate?” She says taking a seat next to Nyx and places his hands in hers.

Nyx looks down. “I- I’m not sure. I think so, but-“ Feyre shares a knowing look with Rhysand, clearly having a mental conversation. 

She looks over to his drawing and asks, “Can I take a look?” Nyx nods and passes the sketchbook over. Feyre flips through the book and sees page after page of drawings. All of the same girl but all completely different. Some are just a portrait, while others are of her full body. Some are just incomplete sketches, others are fully colored works of art. 

“Oh honey, these are amazing.” She says trying not to let her eyes water. “She’s also very beautiful.” Now looking up at his mother, Nyx feels his cheeks getting warmer. 

“I can never get all the details right. There is always something off that doesn’t look like she does in my dreams. I- I get so frustrated because I want to be able to see her while I’m awake too.” Nyx reveals, now fully blushing. 

“Well, I’m sure that can be arranged.” Rhys says, moving to stand behind Feyre to get a better look. Nyx whips his head around to see his parents both smiling at him. 

“What are you-“ 

“Don’t worry about it dear. For now, just focus on getting these details right.” Feyre says teasingly. She hands the sketchbook back to Nyx and stands up. Rhys sends a wink to his son and walks off hand in hand with his mate. 

——

“Okay who wants to go first?” Mor says practically jumping up and down with excitement. Starfall came sooner than Nyx expected. He barely had enough time to get all of his gifts together. 

“I mean if no one else wants to, I guess I will.” Cassian hurries to speak before anyone else gets the chance. 

2 hours and a heaping pile of torn up gift wrap later, Nyx finally gets to open his presents. The first is a new knife holster with his initials embroidered from Azriel, a pack of the nicest colored pencils from Amren. Mor gives him a matching hat, scarf and glove set, and a new set of leathers from Cassian. 

Lastly his parents come up to him with their present, both with a nervous but excited facial expression. 

“Okay, this last one is from us.” His mom starts passing the present over to Nyx. “It might not be what you were expecting, but we hope that you like it.” 

As he begins to unwrap the gift, Nyx feels his heartbeat pick up speed. Not believing what he’s seeing, he looks up to see the whole room zoned in to watch his reaction.

“I used what you showed your dad and I to make it. I tried to get it as close to what I saw.” Feyre says nervously.

“It’s- It’s perfect.” Nyx manages to get out after trying to calm his breathing. The gift is a painting of the girl from his dream. She’s portrayed exactly like his visions, actually even better. He can see all the detail his mother put into the painting. Her hair looks so soft he can almost feel it. 

It’s almost like she’s looking right at him. Not in a creepy way, but in an admiring and loving way. The color of her right eye is dead on. Nyx has never been able to color match the blue quite right. 

Rhys smiles at Nyx. “I’m glad you think so.” He moves to stand behind his son, planting hands on his shoulders. “It’s yours to hang wherever you want. We had a few places in mind, but it’s up to you to decide.”

“My office I think would be nice. Like yours with the portrait of mom.” Nyx says looking up to his father.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

——

*knock* *knock* 

“Hey dad! You wanted to see me?” Nyx asks, walking into his dad’s office. Cassian and Azriel are sat on opposite sides of the room, Nyx decides to sit next to his uncle Az. 

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Rhys starts. Just then Feyre walks into the room and walks over to sit on Rhys’ lap. “Well actually, we wanted to talk to you about something.”

Nyx looks at Az cautiously, who just nods toward the High Lord and Lady silently telling Nyx to pay attention. 

“Am I in trouble?” Nyx asks, now feeling anxious.

“Oh, Mother no! Unless you did something to get yourself into trouble. You didn't, did you?” Feyre says, now zeroed in on her son.

“No! I didn’t do anything” Nyx argues.

“We know, son.” Rhys says. “You're not in trouble. Quite the opposite, actually. Since you’re getting older, we think it would be a good idea for you to tag along on some missions.” 

“Me? Ar- are you sure? I thought you said I wasn’t ready?” Nyx asks, looking between his parents and uncles.

“Well, I don’t think your father will ever think you’re ready, but it’s time. If you’re up for it of course. We wouldn’t start out with dangerous missions, we were thinking to just do simple ones and then we can go from there, okay?” Feyre says with hope in her eyes. 

“I- I guess, I mean yes, absolutely! I’m ready! When’s the first one?” Nyx questions, about to jump up and down in excitement. 

“Well, later today we were planning on visiting some of the Illyrian war camps. Nothing crazy, just going in and making sure everything is alright. We would be with you the entire time of course. You would just be following us around, seeing what the camps are like and learning what it takes to lead them.” Rhys explains.

“Yeah little man, watch and learn.” Cassian says teasingly. 

“Alright Cas.” Rhys turns back to Nyx. “As heir, one day it is gonna be your responsibility to control these camps. I don’t expect you to get everything right away, that’s why we’re starting slow.”

“If I do good on this, does that mean I can go to the Court of Nightmares with you?” Nyx asks.

“Oh sweetie, I don’t know about that just yet. Let’s see how you do with these missions first, okay?” Feyre replies, now worried for her son. Nyx has never been to Hewn City, and if Feyre had her way, he never would. 

“We’re leaving in about an hour. Does that give you enough time to get ready?” Azriel asks.

“Y-yeah. I’ll go right now.” Nyx says jumping up and striding towards the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he spins around and asks, “What do I bring?”

“Just yourself, buddy.” Cassian answers. “Well, yourself and a weapon or two.” 

Laughing, Nyx scurries up the stairs to get ready for his first ever mission. 

——

Flying to Windhaven wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was trying to stay calm while flying to Windhaven. Ever since they took off from the balcony, Nyx has had a weird feeling in his chest. Something that he’s never felt before. He hopes it goes away soon so he can focus on this mission. 

Walking around the camp was like walking into a different world. There were sparring matches going on everywhere. Almost everybody was bruised and bleeding. The only man that wasn’t was walking towards them now. 

“Rhysand! To what do I owe the pleasure.” The strange man said.

“Devlon. It’s been too long.” Rhys replies, taking place in front of Nyx.

“Well who do we have here? Is that who I think that is?” Devlon leans down to get a good look at Nyx. “Are you dropping your son off to join our camp?” 

“Mother no! Absolutely not. We’re here to check in with you. Nyx here,” Rhys says gesturing down to his son. “is tagging along to learn how we do things.” 

“Ahh. Well then, let’s go somewhere a little more private to chat shall we?” Devlon says turning away without waiting for an answer. 

Nyx looks up questioningly to Azriel. He just shakes his head and puts his arm out letting Nyx walk in front of him. 

Once they make it into what Nyx assumes is an office, Cassian plops down on a rather uncomfortable looking couch. Rhys chooses to stand next to where Nyx sits down beside Cassian and Azriel stands on the opposite side. 

“Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?” Devlon asks.

“No thank you, we’re fine.” Rhys replies.

Devlon sinks down into his chair and laughs. “Good, because I don’t have anything anyways.” 

“Do you have anything to update us on?” Azriel asks, cutting straight to the point.

“Well, things around here are more or less the same. Training, eat, sleep, training, eat, sleep, you know how it is.”

Rhys squints his eyes. “Right. And what of the females here?”

“What of them? They are safe, if that's what you want to know. We don’t really have that many, but the ones that we do have, seem to be doing well.” Devlon says, leaning back in his chair.

“They seem to be doing well?” Cassian asks, hunching forward. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Well most of them don’t put up much of a fight, but there is one of them who-“ Devlon pauses, trying to think of what to say. 

“One who?” Rhys prompts.

“She hasn’t been keeping up with the other females when it comes to chores. She’s been caught sneaking out at night begging for some of the guys to train her. One of them did eventually spar with her at first, but she learned her lesson pretty quickly. It’s not common that a female wants to train here, I don’t really know what to do with her.” Devlon shrugs and turns to face Azriel. “She reminds me a lot of you when you were here.”

Azriel’s eyebrows pull together slightly. “What does that mean?” 

“You’ll see.” Devlon says with a smirk.

“What’s her name?” Rhys asks after a beat of awkward silence.

I know it's Orktober but, my youngest came to me with a plea, "DadIneedsomebugsformycampaigncanyouprintandpaintsomebugsbecausetheplayersneedtofightthegiantbugswarmsotheycanhelpthetreantsandfirbolgsandgettheairshiptoflytothepiratehavenwherethemageisbeingheldprisoner."