𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 ━━━ ✧ ⋆ （ acotar ）

✧ ˚ 𝐱𝐱. 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐥𝐝

✧ ˚ 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄, 𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 were always shielded from many horrors the world had to offer. Her elder sisters had all but assured that, though Elain's protection was very different to that of Nesta, or even Feyre. She liked to hold Asteria's attention with chatter of flowers, of the recent romantic drama of the village, of the recent trends of women's fashionㅡand Asteria was always more than happy to drown in the warmth shared between them.

But that shield had begun to slowly rip away at its seams from the moment she'd been forced to step foot in Prythian.

Asteria sometimes thought back to the night everything changed.

She recalled the stars glittering high above as if some kind of divine protection; she recalled elysian white moonlight that beamed down from the heavens; she recalled the sway of forest foliage as Winter's winds migrated northwestㅡfluttering, and biting, and yet oh-so beautiful. Perhaps most of all, she recalled the sense of calm within her soul as she stood before Andras, his intelligent golden eyes boring down at her like he knew what would come for her.

Asteria never blamed Feyre for what had occurred thereafter. She'd been naive then, yes (perhaps she still was), but not naive enough to believe that Feyre's actions had been anything but necessary with the information of the Fae they'd had at the time. Even if he hadn't been a faerie, what else was she to do when she saw an enormous wolf standing just inches from the sister she'd always done her best to protect?

But try as she might, Asteria knewㅡFeyre could not shield her any longer, no more than Rhys could keep her hidden away forever. No matter how desperately they each yearned to.

Music synced to her heartbeat the closer they approached to the throne room. Whatever stragglers there were in the halls, late to that night's entertainment, leered at them as they moved past, beady black eyes glittering with malice.

These gazes were no different than anything else she and Feyre had been subjected to thus far, but she couldn't help but feel like something was differentㅡthat something was off. It wasn't until they actually entered the throne room that Asteria realized what was wrong.

They weren't leering at her and Feyre, but at Rhys.

She barely refrained from sticking her tongue out meanly when she spotted Eris and his brothers among the crowd.

Panic gripped her throat when Rhys paused at the edge of the crowd and released his hold on the sash connected to her neck. He didn't turn back towards her as a tendril of comfort skittered across the forefront of her mind, and his soothing voice echoed silently. Stay with Feyre.

It took her just a bit too long not to prove embarrassing to realize there was a sepia-skinned male on his knees before the dais, sobbing and trembling like encroached by a shuddering wind. Amarantha was smiling down at him like a viper, so intently that she didn't even spare them a glance.