fr0stf4ll

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

Trigger warning; Blood, pain, injuries.

notes; Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the comments on the previous parts. I'm so happy that you’re enjoying this story (because I personally am, lol). Don't hesitate to give feedback, as I'm trying to improve overall! I have uploaded all of my stories on AO3 if any of you are more comfortable reading on the other platform. Also, my requests are open if any of you are interested. It's vacation time for me, so I have more time these days. <3 See you soon and enjoy part 3!

Link; Part 2

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Weeks had turned into a comfortable rhythm, each day drawing you deeper into the heart of your new responsibilities. Winter’s chill still lingered outside, but within the clinic’s halls, warmth and purpose filled the air. Madja had constructed a careful routine—mornings spent reviewing patient logs, afternoons dedicated to meeting the healers who operated throughout Velaris and beyond, and late afternoons or early evenings tending to those who required care. You found yourself adjusting more easily than you’d anticipated, the constant hum of healing magic and quiet conversation making the place feel more like home with each passing day.

Your old room at the hostel now felt like a distant memory. Within a week of settling in, Madja gently insisted that you take the apartment above the small clinic—originally her own workspace and resting spot. At first, you hesitated, still feeling like an outsider who had just returned, but Madja’s firm yet kind encouragement made it clear that this was part of the transition. Now, the apartment’s modest rooms welcomed you each evening: a simple bed with a soft quilt, a desk cluttered with your notes and sketches, and shelves lined with medical texts and herb guides. There was a small window overlooking the Sidra, and sometimes at dusk you’d watch the lamplight glitter on the water, heart at ease.

Costa, your horse, had been entrusted to a capable ostler in Velaris—an Illyrian female who handled the animal with gentle expertise. Knowing Costa was well-fed and groomed, free to stretch his legs in a stable yard not far from the city’s edge, soothed the restless part of your mind. You missed riding, missed the quiet hours of travel with Costa’s steady hooves on unknown roads, but for now you needed to be here, grounded and ready to step fully into Madja’s role.

You’d met most of the healers who had worked under Madja’s guidance—some younger than you, bright-eyed and eager, others older, with steady hands and calm smiles. They greeted you politely, some with curiosity and others with measured caution, as if trying to understand what this new change meant for them. Madja still hovered at your shoulder during these introductions, offering subtle nudges of reassurance. Gradually, you learned their names, their specializations, their quirks. You discovered who excelled at mending broken bones, who shone at delicate surgeries, who possessed the gentlest bedside manner for frightened children. Each person became a piece of a larger tapestry, one you would soon be charged with overseeing.

In between these professional duties, you’d also been summoned to meet with the High Lady, Feyre, on several occasions. These meetings were less formal than you expected—Feyre seemed determined to put you at ease. She asked thoughtful questions about your travels, your impressions of the healing wards, and the ways you might improve the system Madja had built. Often, Rhysand or one of the other Inner Circle members would be present—Cassian slouching in a chair with that easy grin, Azriel standing quietly near a window, shadows at his shoulders. The High Lord listened intently, violet eyes calm, while Feyre nodded, her hand sometimes resting lightly atop a stack of parchment filled with notes.

They all gave the impression of patient confidence. They trusted Madja’s choice, and by extension, they trusted you. That trust both comforted and weighed on you. You were determined not to disappoint them, not to squander the opportunity to shape Velaris’s healing corps into something more agile, more prepared. If war truly loomed on the horizon—whispers still lingering in the court’s quieter corners—then every ounce of skill and knowledge you possessed would be needed.

Evenings found you often at your desk, reviewing patient charts by lamplight. Sometimes Madja would join you, a mug of herbal tea in hand, and together you’d discuss strategy and staffing. At other times you’d work alone, jotting down improvements to the triage system or ways to store emergency supplies more efficiently. The silence of the small apartment felt companionable rather than lonely. You were home, after all these years, in a place that recognized your abilities and gave them purpose.

One morning you awoke early, pushing open the window to let in a crisp breeze. The scent of bread baking somewhere below drifted up, and you smiled. Outside, Velaris shimmered under pale winter sunlight. The city no longer felt quite so strange or distant. You were beginning to know its streets again, to navigate its corners without hesitation. In the stillness, before the day’s demands rose up to greet you, you allowed yourself a small, private moment of contentment.

You had found your footing, a rhythm that matched Madja’s measured guidance with your own growing confidence. Soon enough, Madja would step back fully, leaving you to guide these healers through whatever trials awaited. The thought no longer filled you with anxiety, but with a quiet resolve. You were ready—or at least you would be, by the time Madja’s gentle presence receded from your daily life.

For now, you cherished these weeks of transition: the gentle hum of voices in the clinic halls, the scent of fresh bread and simmering broths, the steady beat of your heart as you prepared to carry on the legacy of a healer who’d believed in you from the start.

———

It was late—well past the hour when the clinic’s final lamp should have been dimmed. Yet, there you were, hunched over a desk scattered with patient files, sketches, and half-finished notes on new salves. Outside, snow whispered against the windowpanes, muffling the night sounds of Velaris. The quiet calm of your small workspace was broken abruptly by a fierce pounding at the clinic doors.

You startled, heart lurching into your throat. Who would come at this time? Without hesitation, you rose and hurried down the corridor, slippers slapping softly against the floor. Approaching the door, you called, “Who is it?” But another series of urgent knocks answered you first.

Flinging it open, you found Cassian standing there, breathing hard, eyes wide with panic and urgency. He said nothing at first, just grabbed at your arm as if to anchor himself. The wild look in his gaze told you something was terribly wrong. Already, you could feel the adrenaline surging, steeling your nerves.

“I need you,” he managed, voice tight and rough. “It’s Azriel.”

You didn’t waste a second—no words of reassurance, no questions. Instead, you spun on your heel, darting back into the clinic’s supply room. Your hands moved with practiced speed, snatching up a medical bag and stuffing in gauze, vials of herbs, antiseptic solutions, and needles for suturing. You threw in a few carefully sealed packs of medicinal leaves, even a small jar of pain-relief tonic. Whatever you might need, because you didn’t know what awaited you.

“Come,” Cassian urged, voice raw. He led you out into the cold night, scarcely giving you time to close the door behind you. Before you knew it, he had scooped you up in a practiced motion and launched into the air. The sudden whoosh of icy wind shocked your lungs, but you clutched your bag tighter, keeping your head low and trusting Cassian’s strong arms and powerful wings to carry you safely. The moonlit panorama of Velaris rushed beneath, a blur of snowy rooftops and dim, golden lights.

Within moments, the House of Wind’s silhouette rose against the starry sky. Cassian landed hard, not bothering with a gentle approach. He half-dragged you inside, footsteps echoing down silent corridors. You found yourself nearly running at his side, alarm thudding in your chest. You followed him through winding halls, the hush of the night fractured by his ragged breathing and the frantic scuff of boots on stone.

He burst into the living area and there, on the massive table that usually served as a gathering place for the Inner Circle’s quiet talks or strategic meetings, lay Azriel. One glance at him and your stomach clenched: his wings—those powerful, graceful wings—looked shredded, raw gashes marring the membranes, blood staining the wood beneath him. Deep cuts scored his arms, his chest. He was breathing, but it was shallow and uneven, face drawn tight with pain.

Rhysand and Feyre hovered nearby, their eyes filled with worry. The High Lord’s jaw was clenched, hands fisted by his sides as if struggling to maintain composure. Feyre’s face was pale, knuckles white where she gripped the table’s edge. Neither dared approach the wounds, knowing to leave it to you.

You didn’t hesitate. “Clear some space,” you ordered, voice firm. Your professionalism took over, pushing aside the horror and fear. You dropped your bag on a nearby chair and quickly rolled up your sleeves.

Azriel’s half-lidded eyes flicked toward you, recognition and relief mingling with agony. His teeth were clenched hard enough to crack. You met his gaze steadily, letting him see that you were here and you would help. Cassian took a shaky breath and stepped back, giving you room.

“Tell me what happened later,” you said sharply to anyone listening, as your fingers deftly opened your medical kit. “For now, we stabilize him.”

A hush fell. The High Lord and High Lady stepped back, trusting you implicitly. Azriel’s shallow breathing and the soft drip of blood became the only sounds. You placed a hand gently near one of the deep cuts, already planning how to close the wounds, which salves to apply first, how to handle the delicate membranes of those damaged wings.

“Azriel,” you said softly, your voice calm and sure, “I need you to hold on. I’m here now.”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, and you began working, every movement precise and determined. This was what you had trained for, traveled for, returned home for—moments like this, where skill and resolve would mend what cruelty had torn.

“Azriel, drink this,” you said firmly, pressing a small vial to his lips. He tried to turn his head away, but Rhysand and Cassian held him steady, their expressions grim. With a trembling swallow, Azriel took the tonic, his face contorting as the bitter taste hit his tongue. The mixture would dull the pain, buy you precious minutes to work.

You spared no time waiting for the tonic to take full effect. Turning abruptly, you called out to Feyre, voice steady and certain despite the chaos. “Open the windows and doors—all of them,” you ordered.

A flicker of confusion passed over everyone present. Feyre hesitated, eyes darting from you to Rhys, who gave a subtle nod. Then she darted across the living room, unlatching windows, throwing open doors. The chill of the night air swept in, carrying scents of snow and starlight. The House of Wind sat high above Velaris, offering nothing but open sky and a tapestry of stars. The moon hung low and bright, and its silver light spilled across the table, across Azriel’s bloodied form.

Cassian’s grip tightened on Azriel’s arm as the spymaster struggled feebly. Azriel let out a ragged hiss of pain, trying to curl in on himself. You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze with steady determination. “Hold him still,” you directed, and Rhysand and Cassian complied, pinning him just firmly enough to keep him from thrashing as you worked.

The sudden openness, the influx of night air and celestial glow, began to make sense. You lifted your hands above Azriel’s body, fingers spread, eyes focused. The moonlight brightened, as if drawn closer by your intent. It pooled onto the table, over his torn wings and deep gashes, shimmering faintly. With careful, precise motions of your hands and a calm, centering breath, you guided that gentle lunar glow.

A thin thread of silvery radiance wound down from the sky, through the open spaces, into your hands. It took on a living quality—like a liquid beam of starlight. Guided by your focus and your will, it slipped into the wounds that needed attention most urgently. You could feel the damage through the magic, each ragged edge of flesh and shredded membrane translating into a sensation of raw, quivering energy beneath your palms.

Your eyes narrowed as you directed the moonlit thread along the worst injuries first—carving a path from torn wing membranes to a deep slash near Azriel’s ribs. Under that gentle illumination, blood flow began to slow, tissues knitting just enough to prevent him from bleeding out. His breathing, ragged moments before, evened fractionally, each breath less desperate than the last.

Everyone watched in stunned silence. Rhysand’s eyes, wide with a combination of shock and relief, met yours briefly as you worked. Cassian’s knuckles were white where he gripped Azriel’s shoulder, but he dared not speak. Feyre stood by the open window, the night breeze stirring her hair, eyes reflecting amazement as she realized what you had done.

You had brought the very light of the cosmos into your healing—the moon and stars aiding your skill. Focused entirely on Azriel, you guided that pale, silvery essence along lacerations, coaxing flesh to mend, halting the most life-threatening bleeding. Each moment counted, each movement of your hand coaxed more life back into him, steadied his pulse, strengthened the tenuous hold he had on consciousness.

And so, amid the hush of the night and the quiet gasps of onlookers, you let that quiet moonlight flow from your fingertips. If any doubts remained about why Madja trusted you, why you had returned at this critical time, they dissolved into silver luminescence and slow, steady healing.

“Turn him over,” you instructed, your voice steady despite the rapid pace of your heart. You had stabilized Azriel enough that he was no longer on the brink of collapse, but if he couldn’t use his wings, he might never fly again—an unthinkable loss for an Illyrian warrior. Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance, then moved together, careful and deliberate, rolling Azriel onto his stomach.

Your breath misted in the chill air drifting from the open windows, but you barely noticed it. All your senses were focused on the damage stretched before you. His wings—those proud, powerful wings—were torn and ragged, membranes frayed, the framework bruised and bleeding. Gently placing your palm near a particularly deep tear, you summoned the silvery light again, coaxing it along the rips and gashes. The quiet hush of the room pressed in, everyone mesmerized by the shimmering moonlight threading through your fingertips into Azriel’s wounds.

Bit by bit, you restored what had been brutally disrupted. You couldn’t make it perfect, not instantly, but you could ensure that he would heal, that flight would remain possible. Rhysand and Cassian kept him still, muscles taut with the effort of not jarring his injuries. Feyre stood watchful by the open window, letting in the night’s gentle glow. Her features were tense but hopeful.

When you had done all you could, you nodded once, giving them permission to turn Azriel back onto his back. His breathing was steadier now, his expression more tranquil. The moonlight’s touch lingered over the last of the cuts on his chest and arms. Methodically, you sealed them, coaxing bleeding vessels to close, torn muscle to knit. The worst damage handled, you eased back, allowing the faint star-born thread of light to dissolve, the connection with the celestial glow fading as you willed it so.

Azriel’s lashes fluttered, a quiet groan escaping him. His eyes opened briefly—heavy-lidded, hazy with pain and exhaustion. In that fleeting moment, your gaze locked with his. Something passed between you then—something warm, startling, and utterly unexpected. In the hush, as if the world had paused, you felt a golden thread snap taut between your hearts. Your breath caught, shock flaring through your veins. You knew the stories, the descriptions passed in hushed whispers: the feeling of a bond, a mate. And here it was, sparking in a place of blood and moonlight, in the eyes of a wounded warrior who had nearly died under your hands.

Your heart hammered in your chest. Azriel’s eyes drifted shut, too weak to question what he’d seen in your startled expression, and he slipped into a healing sleep. But you stood there, rattled. Him—your mate. How could this be?

Rhysand’s voice broke the silence, cool and concerned. “Y/N? Is he all right?” He must have seen the shock in your eyes, the subtle tremor in your posture.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to regain composure. The weight of that discovery pressed down on you, but you could not falter now. Azriel needed rest, treatment, not confusion. “Yes,” you managed, your voice calmer than you felt. “He’s stabilized. We need to bring him to his room, clean the wounds properly, and apply salves. The stitches and light will hold, but he’ll need careful monitoring.”

Cassian and Rhysand relaxed visibly at your words. Feyre approached, the night breeze stirring her hair. She considered you with quiet sympathy, not fully understanding your reaction but trusting you nonetheless.

“Very well,” Rhysand said, relief tempered by careful pragmatism. “We’ll move him now. Show us what you need.”

You nodded, forcing a small, reassuring smile. Inside, your heart still thundered, grappling with this new reality. Azriel—your mate. There would be time later to make sense of it, to examine the golden thread that had just woven your fates together. For now, you steadied your trembling hands, prepared your supplies, and focused on the healer’s work still ahead.

With Azriel finally settled into his bed, the soft glow of faelight illuminating the room, you stepped back and surveyed your work. Now that he was washed free of grime and old blood, you had been able to apply the final ointments and bandages, each touch carefully measured. He was stable now, breathing steadily. But every time your fingertips brushed his skin—no matter how clinically—it felt wrong, as if you were crossing some invisible boundary. A patient, nothing more, you reminded yourself sternly. Yet the memory of that golden thread you’d sensed earlier lingered, unsettling your calm.

Rhysand and Cassian stood quietly by, the heavy pieces of Azriel’s armor piled in a corner, their expressions grim and distant. Feyre lingered near the doorway, arms folded, her face etched with concern. At last, with Azriel’s wounds tended and his feverish warmth easing under your skilled hands, you turned away from the bed and walked out of the room. The door clicked softly behind you, sealing the sleeping spymaster safely inside.

In the hallway, Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian were waiting. The tension was nearly palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the danger that had brought Azriel to this dire state. You drew a steadying breath, mind still whirling with the revelation of a mate bond—one you could not, would not, address now. Instead, you focused on the immediate concern: understanding what had happened, what threat had caused such injury.

“So,” you said softly, meeting their eyes in turn. “What actually happened to him?”

The three shared a look—one that you, even as an outsider to their inner circle, could interpret as worry and anger mingled. Rhysand stepped forward, his posture poised, voice low. “Koshiev’s menace grows,” he began, each syllable measured. “We’ve been hearing whispers: new alliances forming, old enemies sharpening their blades. Azriel was gathering intelligence, trying to confirm rumors we’d caught in the shadows.”

Feyre’s gaze lowered, her jaw tightening. “He found what he was looking for, it seems. Reports suggest he managed to spy on someone—one of Koshiev’s allies or agents. But the enemy must have suspected something. They lured him in, set a trap, and ambushed him before he could escape.”

Cassian’s wings rustled restlessly. He crossed his arms over his chest again, scowling. “He was alone,” he growled. “We couldn’t send a whole team without risking alerting them, and now we see the price of that risk.” There was a note of self-reproach in his voice, frustration that they hadn’t prevented Azriel’s misfortune.

Rhysand inclined his head, the blue of his eyes darkening with resolve. “We still don’t know the full extent of their network, but this attack proves they’re bolder than we thought—and dangerously organized. It’s another sign that the threat Koshiev poses is not distant or hypothetical. It’s here, inching closer to our borders, to our people.”

You absorbed this quietly. The room felt colder, as if the open window had let not just fresh air in, but the weight of the coming storm. So that was it: Azriel’s blood on your hands because he’d tried to protect these lands from a greater horror lurking in the shadows. Your jaw tightened; you knew now more than ever that Madja’s warning of a future conflict wasn’t idle.

Feyre cleared her throat, drawing your attention. “Your swift action saved him,” she said softly, gratitude flickering in her eyes. “Without you… I don’t like to think what might have happened.”

Cassian nodded, grim acceptance in his stance. “We owe you a great deal,” he added, quieter than usual.

Rhysand’s face was serene but serious. “You’ve proved yourself beyond measure tonight,” he said. “Though I regret that such a test came at all.”

You inclined your head, acknowledging their thanks without lingering on it. There would be time for gratitude later. For now, what mattered was that Azriel lived, and that you knew—however unexpectedly—the depth of your new responsibilities. A mate, a looming war, a court depending on your skill and leadership. The path forward would not be simple, but you’d chosen to return to the Night Court for this reason: to heal, to help, to protect. Even if your own heart trembled at what fate had just revealed.

“I’ll prepare more medicine and check on him through the night,” you said at last, voice steady. “We’ll keep him stable, and with rest and care, he’ll recover. As for what comes next… we’ll be ready.”

Your words hung in the hush that followed, a quiet vow that all of you, together, would face whatever darkness Koshiev and his allies chose to bring.

Back in the living room, the tension that had filled the air began to dissipate as Azriel’s rescue shifted into a task of careful aftercare. The others lingered quietly while you settled yourself at a low table, spreading out your supplies. You’d taken a pouch from your bag, emptying it of tools, salves, and ground herbs that would form the next ointment for Azriel’s wounds. With measured concentration, you started mixing ingredients, mortar and pestle working in a rhythmic hush.

Feyre moved closer, her presence calm and unobtrusive. She knelt beside you, watching your hands as they skillfully combined powders and oils. Her gaze trailed to your face, and when you met her eyes, there was genuine admiration there. “What you did back there,” she said softly, voice laced with honest wonder. “That was… remarkable. I’ve never seen healing like that before.”

As if summoned by her words, Rhysand approached, standing behind Feyre, arms lightly folded. “I must agree,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “We’ve had healers here for ages, but none who channel the stars, the moon, or the sun into their craft. The way you drew that moonlight… it defied expectation.”

You inhaled slowly, organizing your thoughts before answering. It was natural that they’d be curious—this was your secret, your gift. “I can heal using the power of the celestial bodies,” you explained, keeping your voice low and measured. “The moon, the stars, the sun—they lend me their energy. When I open the spaces around us, letting their light spill in, I can coax that light into wounds, encourage flesh to knit and blood to still.”

You paused, stirring the ointment gently. The mixture took on a faint floral scent, the herbs reacting perfectly to the warm oil. Feyre’s eyes widened slightly at your explanation, her lips parting as she tried to imagine the scope of such power.

“Does it work every time?” Rhysand asked, tilting his head. The question was not accusatory, merely curious. He understood power and its limits as well as anyone.

You offered a small, wry smile. “So long as the sun, moon, and stars exist, I can tap into that energy. But it’s not effortless. It costs me a great deal of strength to channel their light in that way. Healing major injuries like Azriel’s wings or deep lacerations drains me quickly.” You pressed the pestle harder, grinding a stubborn clump of dried leaf into powder. “I must be careful not to overreach. Exhausting myself completely would help no one.”

Feyre nodded slowly, as if turning the idea over in her mind. “It’s a rare gift,” she said, voice full of understanding. “I’m sure Madja knew what she was doing when she asked you to return.”

A hum of agreement escaped you. “She trained me to harness it in more subtle forms, originally. But my travels—my time in other lands—taught me to focus it more precisely, to use it in dire circumstances.” You allowed yourself a brief glance back toward the corridor where Azriel lay resting. “Tonight was certainly dire.”

Rhysand’s expression softened, and he exchanged a meaningful look with Feyre. “We’re grateful you were here,” the High Lord said quietly. “Not just to save Azriel, but to show us what this court’s healers might achieve under your guidance.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of pride and responsibility blooming there. “We’ll need all the strength we can gather,” you replied. “If Koshiev’s threat is as real as you’ve warned, I can’t afford to hold back.”

Your words lingered, and for a moment, all of you silently acknowledged the uncertain future—a world where any advantage might tip the scales. In the stillness, you returned your attention to the ointment, gently scooping a bit up to examine its consistency. Perfect, you decided, and let your shoulders relax a fraction.

“I’ll come back in a few hours to apply this to Azriel,” you said quietly. “I need to return to the clinic—dawn is approaching, and I must be there when the other healers arrive. He should remain stable for now, but if anything changes, please bring word to me immediately.”

———

When you returned to the clinic, the world seemed to tilt sideways. The door shut behind you with a soft click, muffling the distant hum of Velaris just awakening to dawn. Inside, the quiet halls that had always felt comforting and safe were now suffocating. A hollow ache pulsed in your chest, and before you could even set down your bag, you sank to the floor, knees hitting the hardwood with a dull thud.

Your heart thundered in your ears. He was your mate—Azriel, the spymaster you had saved in a frantic blur of blood and moonlight. The knowledge pressed down on you with unbearable weight. You wanted to cry, to scream, to lash out at the absurd cruelty of fate. You wanted to vomit, as if emptying your stomach might purge the confusion from your veins. You wanted to slap yourself, to break free from this overwhelming tangle of emotions.

How had this happened? You’d returned to the Night Court to take up Madja’s mantle, to heal and guide, not to be shackled by some golden bond you’d never asked for. You’d only wanted to help him, just as you would have helped anyone bleeding out on that table. Yet in that single, unexpected glance, the world had changed—his fate entwining silently, irrevocably with yours.

A sob lodged in your throat. You pressed trembling fingers against your eyes, as if darkness and pressure could hold back the tears. Every thought spun wildly: you were a healer, not some love-struck fool, not someone who had time or space for this destiny you never sought. But a mate. A mate was no small thing, no bond easily ignored.

Your breathing came in ragged gasps. You had just promised Rhysand and Feyre that you would return, that you would apply the ointment to Azriel’s wounds in a few hours. By then, he would be more stable, perhaps even conscious. Would he sense the bond too? Would he look at you differently? Or would he remain blissfully unaware, leaving you alone in this torment?

Your shoulders shook with silent tears. You drew in a shuddering breath, trying to reason with yourself: you were strong, capable, trained to face agony and death. Yet this… this you had not trained for. The golden thread bound you to a future you had never planned.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours—time lost meaning as you knelt on the clinic floor, trapped in your own swirling thoughts. Eventually, your tears slowed, leaving you hollow and raw. Outside, the city stirred. Healers would soon be arriving, expecting you to open the doors, to lead them through another day of caring for the ill and injured.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself upright. You would bury this secret for now, lock it away until you found the words or the courage to face it. Azriel was alive because of you. Your duty was to keep him healthy, to keep everyone healthy. The matter of mateship—of love, destiny, or whatever name this bond took—would have to wait.

Steadying yourself, you rose, wiped the tears from your cheeks, and breathed deeply. No matter the chaos in your mind, the clinic needed you. You would open these doors again, greet the other healers, and carry on. Somehow, you would find a way to reconcile the golden thread strung between your heart and Azriel’s. But not now. Not yet.

For now, you would endure.

----

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[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 2

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

notes; hello hello, thank you so much for all of your comments on the last part. I'm so happy that you guys want to read more of the new fan fiction. Here is the part 2, please don't hesitate to comment or to ask to be on the tag list. Bisous bisous

link for part 1 or part 3

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Early morning light painted Velaris in gentle pastels, the snowy streets glowing beneath a sky that hinted at a clear day ahead. The hostel’s front step creaked softly as you left, having already arranged to keep your horse and belongings there for a few more nights. With your cloak drawn tight against the crisp winter air, you stepped onto the cobblestone path, the familiar scent of the Sidra mingling with the freshness of newly fallen snow.

You knew the way well enough, even after centuries away: to reach Madja’s quarters, you had to skirt the edge of a quiet residential district, pass through a small courtyard where a fountain tinkled with ice-rimmed water, and turn down a short lane lined with lanterns and blossoming plants enchanted to survive the cold. Before heading straight there, though, you caught a whiff of something enticing—fresh pastries, warm bread, the sugary hint of glazed treats.

Following your nose, you discovered a small bakery tucked between a tailor’s shop and a candle-maker’s stall. Its sign hung overhead, carved wood depicting a loaf of bread and a swirl of steam. The door, painted a soft teal, stood slightly ajar, letting out the heavenly aroma. Inside, rows of sweet rolls, tarts, and delicate pastries awaited. You remembered how Madja always had a fondness for morning pastries—she used to claim that a little sweetness helped start the day on a kinder note.

Stepping inside, you selected a variety of treats: sugar-dusted pastries, flaky croissants, and small fruit-filled buns that gleamed with syrup. Alongside them, you chose a crusty loaf and a few savory rolls for balance. Wrapping them carefully in parchment, the bakery’s clerk smiled warmly, admiring your thoughtfulness. You paid without hesitation, a slight grin touching your lips at the idea of surprising Madja with these morsels of delight.

With your package of pastries cradled in one arm, you pushed open the door and stepped back onto the street. Distracted by the lingering taste of sweetness in the air and the memory of Madja’s grateful smile, you didn’t notice the tall figure coming around the corner until it was too late.

Your shoulder collided with something solid—very solid—and you stumbled a step, clutching the pastries protectively to keep them from spilling. Looking up, you saw a broad chest encased in fighting leathers and, as your gaze traveled upward, a pair of strong, dark wings folded neatly behind his back. His face was turned toward you now, brows lifted in mild surprise. He was tall, toweringly so, with an air of alert strength that suggested he rarely found himself caught off-guard.

“Pardon me,” you said quickly, voice low and genuinely apologetic. You stepped aside, adjusting your hold on the parchment bundle. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene or lose these treasured pastries to the snowy ground.

For a heartbeat, you noted the faint surprise in his eyes—he’d expected perhaps a greeting or a challenge—but you had no time for curiosities now. You had a meeting to attend and pastries to deliver. Without waiting for his reply, you nodded, a brief dip of the head, and continued on your way.

The sounds of the city moved around you: distant laughter, the whisper of wings overhead, and the muffled crunch of your boots in the snow. You cast one last curious glance over your shoulder, the winged male already merging into the morning bustle of Velaris. Then you pressed forward, heart light with anticipation. Soon, you would be face-to-face with Madja again, and this time, you came bearing both sweets and your renewed commitment to the healing art she had first taught you.

You had barely raised your knuckles to knock on the old wooden door of Madja’s office when it swung open with a gentle creak. Standing just inside was your old mentor, her silvered hair braided neatly, the familiar warmth in her eyes gleaming even brighter than you remembered. Before you could utter a word, she stepped forward and wrapped you in a gentle, enveloping hug.

The scent of herbal poultices and clean linens—scents forever associated with her—filled your senses as you leaned into the embrace. For a moment, all the centuries and miles you’d traveled fell away, leaving only the memory of countless afternoons spent under her watchful guidance, the hush of the healing rooms, and the soft murmur of her patient instructions.

“My dear child,” Madja said, her voice trembling slightly with joy, “it feels like a lifetime since I last saw you.” She held you at arm’s length, scanning you from head to toe. “Look at you, so grown, so poised. It’s hard to believe you were once that quiet apprentice peeking around doorways, curious about every tincture and suture.”

You smiled, a surge of tenderness filling your chest. “It’s been too long, Madja. I’ve been… everywhere, I think.” You lifted the carefully bundled pastries and bread you’d carried all this way. “I know how fond you are of sweet treats in the morning, so I made a stop on my way here.”

Madja’s eyes lit up at the mention of food, the lines at their corners deepening with delight. “You remembered my weakness!” she teased, ushering you inside and closing the door with a gentle push. Her office had changed little: jars and vials lined shelves, each meticulously labeled; scrolls of medical diagrams were rolled and tied with ribbons; a comfortable armchair waited near a small, round table. A thickly woven rug covered the floor, and a window let in gentle winter daylight, illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily through the air.

As you set the pastries on the table, Madja peered at them with undisguised pleasure. “Oh, look at these,” she breathed, selecting a delicate fruit-filled bun to inspect before taking a small bite. The way her face brightened was like sunshine on fresh snow—pure and sincere. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this. Not just the pastries,” she added quickly, laughing, “but you, my dear. Knowing you would return gave me such comfort these last months as I considered my retirement.”

Her words stirred something soft inside you, a gentle ache of gratitude and affection. “You knew I’d come back,” you said quietly, resting your hand on her arm. “I never forgot your lessons. Everywhere I went—Summer Court, Dawn Court, even across the sea—I carried your voice in my memory. It guided my hands, reminded me of compassion and patience in the face of suffering.”

Madja smiled, the emotion shining in her gaze. “Oh, child. That means more to me than all these treats combined. And trust me,” she said, biting into a sugar-dusted pastry, “that’s saying something.”

You both laughed softly, the sound rising and falling in the small, familiar space. Outside, the city hummed with life, and the snow continued to lend a quiet hush to the streets. But here, in this moment, you and Madja were safe in the past made present—teacher and student reunited, ready to pass the torch and write the next chapter of healing in the Night Court.

“Come,” Madja said, beckoning you to sit. “Eat with me, and tell me of your travels. Then we’ll speak of what must be done next. We have so much to catch up on, my dear. So very much.”

Time slipped by like melting snow beneath a warming sun. One conversation bled into another, memories overlapping with new tales as you and Madja shared a quiet feast of words and understanding. Seated by her small, round table, you sampled the pastries you’d brought and she sipped a mild herbal tea, letting it cool on her tongue as she listened with rapt attention.

You spoke of the Summer Court’s lush jungles and how their healers used exotic flowers to treat fevers. You described the Dawn Court’s libraries, where you learned surgical techniques from scrolls older than the High Lords themselves. You detailed the human realms and distant continents, where you discovered remedies made from plants that grew only under strange red suns. And, with a hint of satisfaction, you recounted the new healing methods you developed—mixing herbs in precise measures, using controlled spells to mend bone and flesh faster, more cleanly than ever before. Every word you offered up was met with pride in Madja’s eyes, as if the knowledge you’d gathered were the rarest jewels.

She questioned you about your power, the subtle magic that allowed you to sense illness and pain with startling accuracy. You admitted it had grown stronger with practice: now you could slow a hemorrhage with a whisper or soothe a maddened mind with careful, empathic focus. Through it all, Madja smiled quietly, nodding now and then, her delight and approval like gentle applause in the hush of her office.

Eventually, though, the mood shifted, and the laughter died down into a more somber tone. With a careful breath, you ventured into more painful territory. “I heard about the last war with Hybern,” you said softly, your gaze drifting to the distant window where a smudge of pale sky marked the passing of morning into afternoon. “I should have come back sooner, but I was too far—lost in the deep continent. By the time I got the news, it was already over. I… I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

Madja’s expression grew gentle, understanding etched into every line. “It was a hard time for all of us, child. Many who lived through it bear scars not only of the flesh, but of the heart and soul. The war was brutal, and there were moments when all seemed lost. But we survived—at great cost, yes, but survived nonetheless.” She reached over, placing her hand over yours. “You cannot blame yourself. The world is vast, and news travels slowly. You followed your path and gained what we now need.”

You met her eyes, searching them for certainty. “And now you say… a greater danger looms?”

Her shoulders rose in a slight shrug, but her eyes hardened with quiet resolve. “Yes. Rumors stir—more than rumors, in fact. Whispers of powerful forces converging, alliances hidden in shadow. The next conflict may surpass anything we have ever witnessed. The time will come when Prythian, and perhaps the world, will need every skilled hand, every healer who can do more than close wounds. They will need a leader who can guide healers and armies alike, someone who understands not just medicine, but people. Someone who’s traveled far and wide, who knows how to adapt and improvise.”

Your heart squeezed gently in your chest, understanding dawning like the slow rising of a sun behind storm clouds. “That’s why you’re retiring,” you said, voice hushed. “Because you can’t help as you wish anymore, and you believe I can.”

Madja nodded, eyes shining with conviction. “I’ve given my centuries to this court, to its people. But my hands grow stiff, and my eyesight dims. I know my limits, my dear. And I know your capabilities—greater, more flexible, better suited for what is coming. I trust you to take up my mantle and lead in ways I no longer can.”

A hush settled between you, broken only by the distant murmurs of Velaris and the faint crackle of a log shifting in the hearth. You saw in Madja’s face not only the mentor who guided your shaky first steps, but a visionary who understood when to pass on her legacy.

You bowed your head, acknowledging the weight of this new responsibility. “I will do my best,” you said softly, resolve steadied by her faith.

Madja’s smile returned, quieter but no less sincere. “I know you will, my child. It’s time for the student to stand at the helm. And this city, this court, will need you more than ever before.”

——

Azriel’s POV

“It’s really happening,” Cassian said, disbelief coloring his tone. “Madja’s actually retiring.”

Azriel stood near the window, wings folded neatly behind him, his dark gaze drifting between the three others in the room: Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian. They had gathered in a private meeting chamber with a broad table at its center. Beyond the glass, Velaris shimmered under the soft winter light, a gentle hush settling over the streets below.

Feyre leaned against a chair, her voice quiet and steady. “We knew this day would come. She’s served this court for centuries—long before any of us held these positions.” There was a reverence in her tone, as if recognizing that an era was ending.

Rhysand, standing beside her, tapped a folded piece of parchment against his palm. “Madja sent a message this morning,” he said, his voice level. “She wanted us to know that her replacement has arrived in Velaris.”

Cassian crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Already here?” he repeated, frowning slightly. He didn’t sound angry, just unsettled by the rapidity of this change. It wasn’t that any of them doubted Madja’s judgment; rather, it was strange to think of someone else stepping into her role so swiftly.

Feyre shifted her weight, curiosity and concern mingling in her eyes. “Do we have a name? Any details?” She glanced first at Rhysand, then at Azriel, as if seeking confirmation that all would be well.

Rhysand’s violet gaze dipped to the parchment. He unfolded it and scanned the lines. “Her name is Y/N,” he said. “She left centuries ago to travel the courts and even beyond Prythian’s borders, expanding her healing knowledge. Madja describes her as someone she raised after the first war with Hybern—an orphan of that conflict. She took the girl under her wing, trained her, and now says she’s more skilled than ever.”

Azriel remained silent, his shadows stirring subtly at his shoulders. If Madja trusted this Y/N to succeed her, to guide the healers of the Night Court, then that spoke volumes. He could sense the unease mingled with acceptance in the room. Changes like this did not come often, but when they did, they tended to carry immense significance.

Cassian exhaled, one hand lifting to rub at his neck. “If Madja believes in her, we should give her a chance. Still, it’s hard to imagine anyone filling Madja’s shoes.”

Azriel caught Rhysand’s faint smile, a subtle tilt of the High Lord’s lips. “We’ll arrange a meeting today,” Rhysand said, setting the note aside. “We need her expertise, especially if the rumors we’ve been hearing prove true. If a greater conflict is brewing, we’ll require a healer who can lead effectively and adapt quickly. Madja wouldn’t hand us just anyone.”

Feyre nodded, the tension in her posture easing slightly. “Then we should welcome her properly,” she said softly. Azriel noted the determination in her eyes—Feyre had always been good at making newcomers feel at ease.

Cassian grunted in agreement, leaning back as if resigned. “Fine. Let’s meet her.” He didn’t sound hostile, simply accepting that times were changing again, as they so often did.

Azriel finally moved from his spot near the window, stepping closer to the table. Outside, the snow-dusted city remained unaware of their deliberations. This Y/N must be formidable, if Madja thought her worthy of such a mantle. He exchanged a glance with Rhysand, who gave a faint nod, understanding passing silently between them.

They would meet her soon, and then they would know if Madja’s faith was well-placed. Azriel let the thought settle in his mind like a quiet promise: a new ally, a new guardian of life and health amidst all the uncertainties of a changing world.

Later that afternoon, standing in one of the House of Wind’s halls, Azriel and the others awaited the arrival of Madja and her chosen successor. The space was quiet, warmed by braziers that chased away the winter chill lingering outside. Feyre stood to Rhysand’s right, her posture poised and welcoming. Cassian hovered nearby, arms crossed but relaxed, appearing more curious than wary now. Azriel took his place slightly behind Rhysand, shadows flickering softly around his shoulders, keen eyes focused on the grand doors.

He heard them before he saw them—the soft padding of footsteps, the gentle murmur of Madja’s voice as she guided her protégé. Azriel noted a subtle change in his companions: Rhysand and Feyre straightened a fraction, their gazes sharpening, while Cassian let out a quiet breath. The old healer’s arrival was expected, but who accompanied her was still an unknown that drew all their attention.

The door opened smoothly, revealing Madja first. She moved at a calm pace, the lines of age and wisdom etched into her face. At her side was a taller figure Azriel instantly recognized. He stiffened, remembering the morning’s brief collision. He’d caught only a glimpse of her then—enough to register her beauty, but not the details. Now, with the bright lamplight and open space, he could take in every nuance.

Y/N was indeed a High Fae, Azriel guessed, based on the gentle taper of her ears and the timeless look in her eyes. She stood tall, her posture neither arrogant nor meek, just quietly assured. Long hair, light brown and lustrous, fell behind her back, with small curls at the ends that softened the lines of her figure. She’d tucked the strands behind her ears, revealing a face that mixed elegance with warmth. Her eyes were a deep, rich blue—Azriel thought of midnight skies reflected on calm waters—steady and clear as she surveyed the room.

A soft smile curved her lips, genuine rather than practiced. He recalled how quickly she’d left him this morning, offering only a brief apology. Now, seeing her fully, he understood why his memory had clung to that brief encounter. Hers was a beauty that felt natural, not forced—grace in the set of her shoulders, kindness in the soft curve of her mouth.

Madja stepped forward, inclining her head to Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Azriel. Her companion followed, a respectful dip of her chin acknowledging their status. Azriel watched as Y/N’s gaze flicked over each of them—first Rhys and Feyre, her eyes brightening with recognition of their roles, then Cassian, and finally coming to rest on him. For a heartbeat, their eyes met, and he could have sworn he saw a hint of amusement there, as if she, too, recalled that small mishap by the bakery.

He did not look away. He simply acknowledged her presence with a subtle nod, shadows stilling around him, curious and contemplative.

Madja offered a small smile of encouragement to Y/N as Rhysand and Feyre stepped forward. The High Lord’s posture was relaxed yet attentive, violet eyes reflecting quiet curiosity, while Feyre’s calm warmth radiated outward, creating a welcoming atmosphere. Cassian, still a step behind, nodded in greeting, arms loosely at his sides now. Azriel watched it all unfold, shadows settling into a content hush around him.

Rhysand’s voice was smooth and cordial as he broke the silence. “Madja, thank you for coming. We received your message,” he said, inclining his head to the old healer. “And this must be Y/N, your chosen successor?”

Madja nodded, gently touching Y/N’s elbow in a familiar, reassuring gesture. “Indeed. As I explained, Y/N has returned from her travels—more skilled and knowledgeable than ever. I believe she will serve the Night Court well, especially with what may lie ahead.”

Feyre’s gaze shifted to Y/N, her expression warm. “Welcome home,” she offered simply, the sincerity in her tone unmistakable. “We’ve heard much about you—and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of questions.”

Y/N’s smile deepened, the tension of meeting these influential figures easing a fraction. “It’s an honor to be here,” she replied, voice carrying a steady calm. “I’m grateful Madja trusted me enough to call me back. I hope to prove worthy of that trust.”

Cassian snorted lightly, not unkindly. “If Madja trusts you, that’s already a high recommendation. The rest, I think, will fall into place soon enough.”

Madja tilted her head in gentle agreement. “We will not rush this transition,” the older healer said, her tone practical and kind. “I’m not disappearing tomorrow. For the coming weeks—perhaps months—Y/N and I will work side by side. She will get to know our healers, understand their rhythms, and learn the intricacies of how our wards are organized. By the time I step back fully, she will have found her footing and earned the confidence of every healer under this roof.”

Azriel quietly observed Y/N’s reaction to these words. There was no flash of panic, no tension coiling in her shoulders. Instead, just a measured acceptance, as though she’d been preparing for this for a long time.

Y/N nodded, turning her gaze to Madja briefly, then to Rhysand and Feyre. “I appreciate this gradual approach. It will give me a chance to reacquaint myself with the Night Court’s traditions. I’ve learned much elsewhere, but integrating it here—especially if a war is on the horizon—requires care.”

Her mention of looming conflict stirred something in the air. Azriel noticed how Rhysand’s jaw tightened just so. Feyre’s eyes flickered with a hint of steel beneath their kindness. Cassian’s grin faded slightly, replaced by a sober light in his hazel eyes.

Rhysand offered Y/N a small, approving nod. “Caution is wise. We will likely rely on your skills, your counsel, and your ability to coordinate healers in the field if trouble does come knocking.”

Feyre chimed in softly, “We’ve seen how vital good healers are, not only for soldiers but for civilians, for stabilizing morale. Your presence isn’t just medical; it’s strategic.”

Y/N’s lashes lowered briefly, acknowledging the weight of these words. “I understand,” she said, a calmness threading through her voice. “Healing is more than closing wounds—it’s about maintaining hope, ensuring that fear doesn’t consume everyone. I’ll do my best to uphold that.”

Madja’s smile warmed the room. “You see why I chose her,” she said quietly, pride evident in every syllable.

Azriel inclined his head at Y/N, a quiet gesture of respect. She seemed to notice, meeting his gaze for a fraction before turning back to Rhysand and Feyre. He thought back to their brief encounter that morning—the quick collision, the apology, her hasty departure. Already that memory seemed distant, replaced by the impression of a calm, capable presence who might very well become an anchor in the uncertain times ahead.

“Well,” Rhysand said, after a moment, “I suppose all that remains is to officially welcome you into this role. Y/N, you have our full support. In the coming days, we can introduce you to the healers, and you can start making your own assessments.” He paused, a faint tilt to his smile. “And, of course, do not hesitate to call on any of us if you need assistance.”

Cassian smirked softly. “Just don’t ask me to bandage anyone’s wounds—I’m all thumbs with that,” he teased, the tension in the room easing into something lighter.

Feyre rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “Ignore him. He’s quite good at following orders when it counts.”

Y/N let out a gentle laugh, and even Azriel’s lips curved slightly, the corners of his mouth barely lifting but enough to notice. The wind seemed to ease outside the windows, the hush of snow falling quietly on Velaris’s spires. Within the House of Wind’s halls, the new healer had been welcomed, the path of her mentorship and eventual succession laid out clearly.

Madja’s eyes shone with satisfaction. “Then it’s settled. We’ll begin tomorrow morning. Y/N, I’ll show you around the wards, let you meet a few of the lead healers.” She glanced at Rhysand and Feyre, and then at Cassian and Azriel. “The rest will follow naturally.”

Azriel considered the moment: transitions were often fraught with uncertainty, but here, in the presence of trust and openness, they felt manageable. He said nothing more, content to stand by and watch as a new cornerstone of the Night Court’s strength stepped quietly into place.

----

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[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 1

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

notes; Yo everyone, I'm back with another fanfiction featuring our lovely Shadow Singer. Hope you all like it <3 Just a small reminder: English isn’t my first language, so I’ve tried my best. Enjoy the first chapter!

Part 2

---

The dusk sky draped the House of Wind in soft shades of lavender and rose, its tall windows open to the gentle, jasmine-scented breeze of Velaris below. Rhysand’s office, spacious but not ostentatious, offered a panoramic view of the starlit city, where lanterns were beginning to glow and laughter drifted upward like a distant, cheerful hum. The high shelves, carved of dark wood, were lined with neat rows of books and rolled charts, their parchment edges softened by centuries of use. A low-burning lamp cast warm light over a desk scattered with papers, quills, and a half-filled inkpot.

Madja stood near the window with Rhys, both of them watching as wings and shadows moved quietly through the city’s streets below. The old healer’s posture was poised despite her age; her long, silver-streaked hair was bound in a simple braid. Time had etched fine lines around her eyes and mouth—soft marks of the centuries she’d spent mending flesh and bone, soothing pain, and whispering encouragement into the darkest hours of countless lives.

Rhysand kept his gaze on the vista beyond the glass, arms folded casually, the glow of faelight catching in his violet eyes. He knew Madja had come here for something particular. She wasn’t one to linger unnecessarily, nor did she shy from speaking her mind. The hush in the room was comfortable, respectful of the weight of the moment.

Madja cleared her throat softly, her voice as calm and steady as it had been through all the emergencies and late-night visits to the healing rooms. “Rhysand,” she began, her tone gentle yet determined, “I need to speak with you about a matter of some importance to me.”

Rhys turned his head slightly, giving her his full attention. “Of course,” he said, voice low and reassuring. “What’s on your mind?”

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, as though considering each word carefully. “I’ve served this court for a very long time. Longer than many remember—tending to soldiers, midwives, children, courtiers, High Lords and Ladies alike.” Her gaze drifted toward the city lights, as if recalling memories that danced among those glowing streets. “It’s been my honor and my purpose.”

Rhysand inclined his head, respect and gratitude shining in his eyes. “We owe you more than can ever be repaid, Madja. Your skill, your kindness... You’ve saved so many of us in ways we cannot count.”

She offered a small, affectionate smile. “I know my role has mattered. But Rhys,” she paused, and the name alone carried a lifetime of familiarity that few could claim with him, “I find that my hands are not as steady as they once were. My eyes grow weary by candlelight. My back aches after hours bent over the injured.”

A slight breeze stirred the curtains, and the scent of night-blooming flowers drifted in, a gentle reminder of how time moved ever forward. Rhysand said nothing yet, allowing her the space to say what she must.

Madja continued softly, “I believe it’s time for me to step back. To retire from my duties as the court’s primary healer.” She turned to face him fully, shoulders squared, but her gaze kind and open. “I’ve trained many capable healers over the years. The work will continue. The Night Court does not lack for talent or compassion.”

Rhysand exhaled quietly, pressing his lips into a thoughtful line. The notion of Madja not being there—her swift and sure presence absent from their healing wards—seemed strange. She had always been a constant, a quiet pillar in the court’s foundation. But he would not deny her what she deserved.

“Are you certain?” he asked gently, voice low enough that it felt like they were confiding secrets rather than discussing court affairs. “If you wish fewer hours, or only to train the younger healers, we can arrange that.”

Madja shook her head, a decisive yet kind gesture. “No, Rhys. I’ve thought this through. I’m old, my friend. Old, even by our standards.” A hint of dry humor touched her tone. “My future lies in rest, in tending a garden rather than wounded flesh. I wish to spend whatever years remain in quiet peace, perhaps in a small cottage overlooking a meadow or stream.”

In the quiet that followed, Rhysand reached out to gently clasp her hand, the gesture sincere. “We’ll ensure you have all you need. A place of comfort, security—whatever you desire. And know that you will always be welcome in these halls, never forgotten.”

Madja squeezed his hand, gratitude and affection shining in her eyes. “I expected nothing less. You have all grown into fine leaders, fine friends. It eases my heart to know I leave the court in good hands.”

Rhysand released Madja’s hand gently, taking in her decision with thoughtful acceptance. The room felt quieter, a hush that allowed them both to measure the weight of this change. He crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the desk, considering how best to carry out her retirement. There would need to be someone to fill her role—someone skilled, empathetic, and unshakably capable of handling whatever the Night Court might face.

“Have you thought about who might take your place?” Rhys asked softly, meeting her steady gaze. “I can’t imagine you leaving us without a successor in mind.”

A hint of pride lit Madja’s eyes, a spark of confidence in the future she was preparing to leave behind. “Of course I have. You know me better than that, Rhys. I would never abandon my post without ensuring someone could step into it seamlessly.”

Rhys inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he had expected nothing less. “And who have you chosen?”

Madja’s grip on the windowsill tightened slightly, not in apprehension, but in anticipation of sharing something long-cherished. “I have someone perfect in mind. A child of the Night Court—an orphan of the first war against Hybern, in fact. I took her under my wing when she was very young, taught her the basics of healing and care.”

Rhysand’s brows rose, curiosity piqued. He could not recall all the children Madja had trained personally, centuries and centuries blending faces and names into a kind tapestry of service. “Who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Madja said, voice warm with fondness. “You may remember her. She was quiet but determined, always studying late into the night, always asking how to ease pain more efficiently or mend a broken bone with fewer scars. A true healer’s heart.” She paused, letting the memory breathe life into the silence. “A few centuries ago, she left the Night Court to travel among the other courts and even beyond Prythian’s borders—visiting unknown continents, I believe. All to deepen her knowledge and hone her healing skills.”

Rhysand searched his memories, vague images surfacing: a young, focused individual hovering near Madja’s side, attentive as a student could be. He had been too busy with rebuilding and healing wounds on a much larger scale then, but he remembered the name faintly, the glimpses of a dedicated figure slipping through the halls.

Madja continued, “I reached out to her a few months ago, requested her return. I told her of my plans, that I would soon step down and that I wanted her to take my place. She agreed. She should be arriving any day now, if my calculations are correct.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, pressing his fingertips together. “So Y/N will take on your mantle,” he said quietly, more to himself than Madja. “If you trust her, then I will welcome her home with open arms. I know the court will benefit from such devotion and training.”

Madja’s smile deepened, an affectionate and proud curve of her lips. “She will do well, Rhys. She’s grown into a capable healer—perhaps even more skilled than I. She brings with her new techniques and knowledge from lands we can barely imagine. It is only fitting that someone so dedicated should stand where I once stood.”

Outside, the city’s laughter and murmurs drifted into the room. Rhysand and Madja stood in quiet agreement. As one chapter closed gently, another prepared to open. The Night Court, always at the crossroads of past and future, would soon meet the one who would continue its legacy of healing and mercy.

————

The winter air carried a quiet hush as you approached the gates of Velaris. The land slumbered under a light blanket of snow, crystals glittering like tiny fallen stars beneath the moonlight. It had been centuries since you’d last seen this city, and now each lantern-lit arch, each faint silhouette of distant rooftops, stirred memories long tucked away. The cold breeze nipped at your cheeks, but you were well-prepared: a heavy, fur-lined cape draped over your shoulders, its generous folds keeping out the chill. Beneath it, your traveling garb—leather boots crusted with frost, worn gloves, and trousers meant for long rides—hinted at the countless roads you had trodden in your self-imposed exile.

Your horse’s breath plumed in the crisp air, its dark coat standing out starkly against the snowy ground. Every hoof-fall was muffled by that thin layer of powder, giving the night an even gentler hush. Above you, the eagle circled again, a lone sentinel under a sky brushed with starlight and the faint glow of a crescent moon. It cried softly, its voice echoing in the stillness, as if announcing your return.

Velaris—once the place of your youth, where you learned the first steps of healing under Madja’s patient eye—felt both familiar and strange. You had wandered distant courts, continents with different climates and creatures, honing your craft and expanding your knowledge. Yet here, now, the curve of a familiar street corner, the warm glow of lamplight on old stone, tugged at your heart. It was nostalgia mingled with quiet apprehension, the weight of centuries settling gently on your shoulders. Back then, you had left as a young apprentice, uncertain and hungry for wisdom. Tonight, you returned as a seasoned healer, with secrets and skills gleaned from every corner of Prythian and beyond.

At the gate, a couple of sentries wrapped in thick cloaks watched your approach. The lanterns beside them radiated a comforting warmth against the frosty night. They noted your horse’s slow pace, your cape embroidered subtly with practical patterns, the saddlebags heavy with bandages, tonics, and texts. They glanced upward at the eagle, curious, but found no threat in this silent dance of traveler and guardian.

One guard stepped forward, voice muted yet carried easily through the still air. “Late traveler,” he said, respectful but cautious, “state your name and purpose.”

You drew the reins gently, bringing the horse to a stop, your dark mount stamping once on the snowy ground. A faint smile touched your lips as you pushed back your hood, exposing features sharpened by experience, softened by understanding. Even now, the cold flushed your cheeks slightly, and a strand of white hair slipped free, catching the moonlight.

“I am Y/N,” you said, your voice steady and warm, echoing with an old familiarity. “A healer returning to the Night Court. I believe I am expected.”

The guards exchanged a glance—this name carried weight, a quiet rumor of a healer summoned home by Madja herself. They stepped aside, allowing you entry, no further questions needed. Beyond them lay Velaris, blanketed softly in winter’s hush. You remembered it bustling with life in greener times, but even now, beneath the snow and distant laughter, you felt the city’s heart welcoming you home.

With a gentle press of your heel, you urged your horse onward. The eagle’s shadow passed over the gate, and then it soared above the rooftops, perhaps to find its own perch. A familiar scent drifted through the crisp night air—something like cinnamon and distant hearth fires. You took it in, remembering quiet evenings of study and healing in warm, lamplit rooms.

You had left as a student, eager and uncertain. You returned a master of your craft, ready to shoulder the responsibilities your old mentor had chosen for you. The quiet crunch of hooves in snow was the only sound as you entered Velaris, a place you had not seen in a hundred lifetimes, yet still knew in your bones.

As soon as you passed through the gates, you swung your leg over the horse’s side and dismounted with a practiced ease. The animal, sensing your familiarity, snorted softly, its breath making small clouds in the winter air. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you took the saddle in hand, leading your horse forward at a leisurely pace. A few onlookers spared curious glances—travelers weren’t uncommon in Velaris, but your arrival at this late hour and in these quiet conditions drew subdued interest.

You let your gaze drift, taking in the sights around you. Velaris had always been a jewel among cities, but under the moon and dusting of snow, it gleamed with a serene kind of splendor. Buildings of carved stone and elegant wood bore soft, golden lights that spilled onto cobblestone streets. The scent of fresh bread and distant hearth fires mingled with the crispness of winter. You noted subtle changes—new sculptures in gardens, fresh murals adorning certain walls, the hum of gentle magic woven into everyday corners. It had grown even lovelier with time.

You had heard the tales, even far away on foreign shores: the once-hidden city revealed to the world, the ferocious attack it had endured, and the grand victory that followed. Rumors traveled quickly among healers and traders, and from what you gathered, Velaris had suffered but risen stronger, its spirit unbroken. The idea that your old home, once so secretive, had been thrust onto the world stage still left an odd taste in your mouth. You’d never imagined such an outcome all those centuries ago.

And Rhysand—when you’d left, he’d only just ascended as High Lord after his father’s passing. You remembered him as calm, shrewd, haunted by new responsibilities thrust upon him too young. Now, you’d learned that he had reigned through wars and alliances, reshaping the Night Court into something more open, more formidable. Most astonishing of all was the whisper that a High Lady stood beside him, equal in power and rank. Such a thing had been unthinkable in the old days, when tradition and suspicion ruled the courts.

You ran a hand along the horse’s neck, both reassuring it and steadying yourself. Time had flowed like a great river, carving new courses in this land you once knew. The Night Court wasn’t just shadows and silence anymore—if anything, it hummed with a brighter, more inclusive magic.

A small smile tugged at your lips, though touched by nostalgia. You wondered if you would still recognize old acquaintances, if any remained. Madja, of course, you would know. She was the reason you had returned. But what about the healers who trained alongside you, or the courtiers who once sought your help for quiet fevers and twisted ankles?

Your breath fogged in the cold as you carried your saddle and led the horse onward into the velvety night of Velaris. In that soft hush, surrounded by lamplight and murmuring streets, you acknowledged what had been and what now was. A thousand changes had come to pass while you walked distant roads, yet here you were again—a piece of the past stepping into the present, ready to adapt and serve once more.

With a gentle tug on the reins, you guided your horse through Velaris’ winding streets until you reached a small inn known for accommodating travelers with mounts. The sign outside bore simple script and a painted image of a horse’s head, letting you know this was a place that catered to riders who needed both rest and a safe spot for their companions. A narrow stable area hugged one side of the building, the wooden stalls visible through an open arch, and the soft whicker of other horses drifted out into the cold night.

You tied your horse securely at a hitching post near the stable entrance, giving it a few soft strokes along its neck and murmuring quiet words of reassurance. The inn’s lights glowed warmly through its windows, promising respite from the chill outside. Carrying only what you needed for the night—your saddle and a small bag slung over your shoulder—you stepped up onto the worn threshold.

Inside, the inn’s atmosphere enveloped you like a comforting blanket. The interior was modest yet inviting, with low ceilings supported by dark wooden beams that lent the space a cozy, intimate feel. A large hearth crackled at one end, its firelight dancing across the polished floorboards and simple, sturdy tables. The scent of mulled wine and hearty stew drifted through the air, mingling with the faint tang of old wood and woolen fabrics. A few patrons sat scattered around, some nursing tankards, others finishing quiet meals, their murmured conversations melding into a pleasant hum.

Lamps hung at intervals along the walls, their warm glow illuminating the simple artwork—landscapes of rolling hills and starry skies, scenes that might be familiar to travelers who came and went. A rack near the door held thick cloaks and traveling staffs, and straw mats by the hearth encouraged weary wanderers to warm their feet by the flames.

Approaching the small counter near the fire, you found a stout figure in an apron waiting, brows lifting slightly at your approach. The innkeeper—a middle-aged fae with kind eyes and a no-nonsense posture—took in your travel-worn attire and the faint smell of stable hay clinging to your clothes without judgment.

“I need a room for the night,” you said, voice low but clear. You placed a few coins on the counter, enough to cover lodging and a decent meal. “And a safe place for my horse,” you added, gesturing out the door with a tilt of your head.

The innkeeper nodded, pocketing the coins and scribbling a note in a ledger. “You’ve chosen the right place, traveler. We’ve a stable hand on duty tonight, and plenty of hay and water for your mount. I’ll have your belongings sent up to your room—top of the stairs, second door on the right. Will you be needing dinner?”

The gentle crackle of the hearth made you realize how hungry you were. “Yes, please. Something hot.” The tension of your long journey began to ease as you spoke. Soon, you would have a warm meal and a quiet room, a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the days to come in Velaris.

The innkeeper nodded again. “We’ll have stew and bread ready for you in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

You thanked them quietly and made your way toward a table near the fire. Settling down, you let the warmth seep into your bones. Outside, the snow continued to fall lightly, dusting the night-silenced streets. Inside, the inn’s modest comfort wrapped around you, a gentle reminder that, for all the changes beyond these walls, solace could still be found in simple things: a crackling fire, a hot meal, and a secure place to rest.

You thanked the inn’s attendant who brought your things upstairs—your saddle and bag neatly placed in one corner, your personal items laid out on a small bench. As soon as the door closed, you set about making yourself comfortable. The tiny room was modest but cozy: a single bed with a thick quilt, a wooden chest for your belongings, and a narrow door that led to a private washroom. The lamp on the bedside table glowed softly, illuminating rough-hewn beams overhead and the simple woven rug underfoot.

The bath you drew was warm and fragrant, a rare luxury after so many months on the road. You sighed as the hot water embraced your tired muscles, steam rising to blur the edges of the lamplight. Every ache and tension slipped away, replaced by a gentle calm. You lingered there longer than you intended, letting the warmth and quiet stillness soothe the raw edges of your journey.

Eventually, you stepped out, drying off with a towel that smelled faintly of lavender. Pulling on more comfortable clothes—soft trousers, a loose tunic, and thick socks—you immediately felt lighter, more at ease. Settling into the single chair at the small desk, you opened your sketchbook. The pages bore neat sketches of rare herbs, diagrams of organs and nerve clusters, annotations in your own careful handwriting describing remedies learned in distant courts. You added a few more notes now, clarifying a technique you’d picked up in the Winter Court for combating frostbite injuries—how their healers used crushed frost lily petals to reduce swelling.

You’d barely finished jotting down a final sentence when a gentle knock sounded at the door. Crossing the tiny space in a few strides, you opened it to find the innkeeper’s assistant holding a tray. The rich aroma of stew—savory and warm—wafted into your room. You offered a quiet thanks, voice hushed as if not to disturb the hush of the night. The assistant nodded politely and retreated, footsteps receding down the hallway.

Placing the tray on a small round table by the window, you pulled up the chair. The stew steamed before you—thick and hearty, with chunks of root vegetables, tender meat, and herbs that reminded you of home. Next to it was a small loaf of crusty bread and a pat of butter, already soft enough to spread easily.

As you dipped your spoon and brought the first mouthful to your lips, the flavors bloomed across your tongue—rich, comforting, and exactly what you needed. Your gaze drifted past the rim of the bowl to the window. Beyond the glass, the Sidra River shimmered softly under starlight. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the night, catching in the glow of distant lanterns. Across the water, the Rainbow—Velaris’s famed artistic district—was lit with gentle hues, colors blending seamlessly into the darkness.

The scene was a masterpiece of tranquility: the star-flecked sky, the quiet city, the snow falling softly as if trying not to wake the world. You savored another spoonful of stew and leaned back, allowing the moment to settle around you. Here you were, in a city you’d left centuries ago, come home to take up a mantle left by your old mentor. So much had changed and yet this moment—warm meal, quiet window, gentle snow—reminded you why you returned. Comfort, safety, purpose, and memory woven together in a tapestry of starlit peace.

You finished the last of your meal, wiped the bowl clean with a piece of bread, and gently pushed the tray aside. The steady warmth of the stew had settled in your stomach, making your limbs feel pleasantly heavy. Outside, the snow continued its quiet descent, dusting the rooftops and the narrow streets with sparkling powder. The lamplight in your room seemed softer now, the hush of the winter night wrapping around you like a familiar old cloak.

Rising from the small chair, you crossed the room and extinguished the lamp on the bedside table. Only moonlight and the reflection from the snow-blanketed city remained, sending faint silver shapes dancing along the floorboards. You slipped beneath the quilt, the scent of wool and lavender drifting from the linens. The mattress gave slightly under your weight, a gentle cradle after so many hard beds and forest floors.

Your thoughts drifted naturally to the meeting you’d have the next day. Madja’s voice echoed faintly in your memory—her gentle, steady guidance so many years ago. Tomorrow, you would see her again, no longer as a wide-eyed apprentice, but as a seasoned healer returning to take up her mantle. The idea hummed softly through your mind, a mixture of anticipation and a quiet, nervous pride.

The distant murmur of Velaris lulled you: the soft creak of settling beams, the whisper of the Sidra’s current, the faint call of a night bird. Within moments, the fatigue of long travel and the comfort of a true bed smoothed away the edges of wakefulness. Your eyelids grew heavy and closed, shutting out the gentle glow of stars and snow.

Wrapped in warmth and memory, you drifted into sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow would begin a new chapter—one you were finally ready to embrace.

---

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Epilogue

[fr0stf4ll]

A proper girls’ night

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; You and Azriel have been mates for some time now, and between managing the males, training, missions, raising a child, and fulfilling duties as High Lady, you haven’t had the chance to enjoy a proper girls' night with your closest friends. But tonight is supposed to be all about you and the girls—or is it? ;)

word count ; 7.2k

warning; SMUT ;p, alcohol, drunk sex

notes; Yoo everyone, here I am again for a one shot. I'm not the best for smut so I hope that you will enjoy it. I got the idea of this story after a small party with some of my best friends so I hope that you will like it ! With love <3333

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I was lounging on my plush couch, admiring the final touches I’d added to make this apartment truly feel like home. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Sidra, and soft, warm lights created a comforting ambiance. This place was everything I’d hoped for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

I had just finished arranging the last decorative pillow when a knock echoed through the apartment. I grinned, already knowing who it was.

“Come in!” I called out.

The door swung open to reveal Feyre, Nesta, and Mor. Feyre carried not just one, but two bottles of wine, Nesta had a stack of board games tucked under her arm, and Mor, of course, arrived with an enormous grin and—was that three bottles of spirits?

“Are we throwing a party, or did I miss something?” I laughed, taking in the sheer amount of alcohol they had brought with them.

Mor dropped the bottles on the counter with a flourish. “What? It’s not every day we christen a new apartment, Y/N! We needed to make sure we had enough… well, more than enough.”

Nesta smirked, adding, “You know how things go with us. We start with wine, then move on to something stronger. And just in case, I thought we’d better bring a little extra.”

“A little extra?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow as I counted the bottles. “This looks like enough to keep us going for a week.”

Feyre chuckled, setting the wine down. “Consider it insurance. We’re not leaving until we’ve had a proper girls’ night.”

Mor waved a hand dismissively. “No boys, no responsibilities, and a whole lot of alcohol. That’s what tonight is about. We’re here to have fun, relax, and forget about everything else.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I started pulling out glasses. “Well, if that’s the case, then let’s get started.”

The girls settled in, each finding a spot on the couch or one of the oversized chairs. Mor was already opening one of the wine bottles, filling up our glasses generously.

“We’ve spent too many nights at Rita’s,” Nesta said, her tone teasing but sincere. “It’s nice to just relax here for a change.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, raising her glass. “Especially with the company. I could get used to this.”

Mor clinked her glass against Feyre’s. “Here’s to our host, for letting us invade her beautiful new home. And for not skimping on the drinks.”

“I didn’t realize I had a choice,” I teased, holding up my glass before taking a sip. The wine was rich and full-bodied, the perfect start to what promised to be a wild night.

“Tonight is all about us,” Mor declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned back in her seat. “No boys, no distractions, just us girls and more alcohol than we know what to do with.”

“Agreed,” Nesta said, holding up one of the board games. “Let’s start with something easy. Then we can see where the night takes us.”

The night was still young, and the four of us had already settled comfortably into my new apartment. The alcohol was flowing freely—perhaps a bit too freely—and the conversation had naturally turned to gossip. It was inevitable when we got together, especially after a few glasses of wine.

We were sprawled out on the couch and chairs, each of us with a drink in hand. The warmth from the alcohol had already loosened our tongues, and the atmosphere was buzzing with the excitement of shared secrets.

Mor, never one to hold back, was the first to dive in. “Alright, ladies, I’ve got some tea. And I’m not talking about that herbal nonsense.” She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Did you hear about the sparring match Cassian had the other day with Devlon?”

That got everyone’s attention. “No,” Nesta said, her eyes narrowing. “What happened?”

Mor grinned, clearly enjoying the anticipation. “So, apparently, Devlon thought it would be a good idea to challenge Cassian in front of all the Illyrians—like, really make a show of it. Cassian, being Cassian, accepted, but he didn’t just beat him. He absolutely humiliated him. We’re talking flat on his back, wings pinned, can’t even move. And to top it all off, Cassian just stood up, dusted himself off, and said, ‘Next time, try harder.’”

Nesta snorted, trying to hide her amusement. “Serves him right. Devlon’s been asking for it.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes wide with delight. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Oh, but it gets better,” Mor continued, her grin widening. “Devlon’s been walking around the camp like a wounded animal ever since. The other Illyrians are having a field day with it. They’ve even started calling him ‘the Fallen Commander’ behind his back.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Cassian really knows how to make an impression.”

“Not as much of an impression as Rhys made when he was caught singing in the bath the other day,” Mor added, her tone dripping with amusement.

Feyre blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mor said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I happened to be passing by when I heard it. He was belting out some old Prythian ballad—badly, might I add—and I swear, for a second, I thought a cat was dying.”

Nesta burst out laughing. “Please tell me you have some sort of recording.”

“I wish!” Mor exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “But trust me, the image is seared into my memory forever. The High Lord of the Night Court, all serious and stoic by day, and an absolute disaster in the bathroom.”

Feyre groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “I’m never letting him live that down.”

“And then there’s Azriel,” Mor said, shifting her attention to me with a wicked grin. “I’m surprised he hasn’t broken anything with those late-night visits to your place.”

I blushed instantly, caught off guard. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Mor teased, her eyes glinting with amusement. “We all know that shadowy lover of yours can’t keep his hands off you. I mean, with the way you’ve been glowing lately, it’s not hard to figure out why.”

“Azriel doesn’t talk much,” Nesta added, smirking, “but I bet he more than makes up for it in other areas.”

Feyre was giggling, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Spill, Y/N! We need to know—does he really keep the shadows around, or does he prefer a more hands-on approach?”

My face was burning by now, but the alcohol had loosened my tongue enough that I couldn’t help but join in. “Let’s just say, the shadows aren’t the only thing that’s always… active.”

That sent Mor into peals of laughter, nearly spilling her drink as she doubled over. “Oh, I knew it! Azriel’s got that dark, broody exterior, but underneath… he’s a beast, isn’t he?”

I could only laugh in response, covering my face with my hands. “I’m not saying anything else!”

“Come on,” Nesta urged, leaning in. “We won’t tell a soul. Just a little more.”

I peeked out from behind my hands, giving them a sly grin. “Let’s just say, he’s very… thorough.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mor cheered, holding her glass up for a toast. “To thorough lovers and late-night visits that leave you glowing!”

We all clinked our glasses together, the laughter bubbling up again. The night was filled with stories that grew more outrageous with each passing drink. Feyre even confessed to sneaking up on Rhys one morning with a bucket of cold water, just to get back at him for something he’d done weeks earlier.

“I’ll never forget the look on his face,” she giggled, eyes bright with mischief. “He didn’t speak to me for half the day—until he figured out how to get me back.”

“Did he manage to one-up you?” I asked, curious.

“Oh, he tried,” Feyre replied, a smirk playing on her lips. “But he should have known better than to start a prank war with me. I’m still two steps ahead.”

“You two are impossible,” Mor said, shaking her head but unable to hide her amusement. “But what about Cassian? Does he know about all of this?”

“Cassian,” Nesta said, still grinning, “is too busy preening in front of the mirror these days. He’s been obsessed with perfecting his ‘battle-ready’ look. You wouldn’t believe how much time he spends adjusting his armor to make sure it’s just the right amount of ‘ruggedly handsome.’”

Feyre rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her voice. “Typical. He’s worse than a peacock.”

“Speaking of peacocks,” Mor added, leaning in again, “I heard that Tarquin’s been parading around the Summer Court with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Apparently, he thinks it makes him look ‘mysterious and approachable.’”

Feyre snorted. “More like ridiculous.”

As the conversation began to wind down, Mor suddenly jumped to her feet, a wild look in her eyes. “Alright, ladies,” she declared, “enough sitting around. It’s time to take this party up a notch.”

The night had taken a turn, a wild, exhilarating turn. What started as a simple girls' night had quickly evolved into something far more chaotic and, quite frankly, downright ridiculous. The ridiculous part might have had something to do with the copious amounts of alcohol, but that was beside the point.

It all began after the third bottle of wine was emptied, and Mor, in her infinite wisdom, declared that the night was far too young to end with just drinking and talking. The suggestion to turn the apartment into our very own private club was made, and, well, it didn’t take much convincing.

I don’t know where Mor had pulled it from—whether it was some hidden magic or just her unrelenting spirit—but somehow, my apartment transformed. Soft lights gave way to pulsating club lights, shifting in colors that matched the beat of the music that now blasted through the room. The furniture was pushed aside, making space for what had effectively become a dance floor.

“I didn’t even know you had this in you,” Feyre shouted over the music, her eyes wide with delight as she took in the scene.

“Neither did I!” I shouted back, laughing as I twirled around in the flashing lights. The wine had long since turned my limbs to jelly, and I felt lighter, freer than I had in a long time.

Nesta, who had been initially reluctant, was now completely immersed, her usually stoic expression replaced with a flushed grin as she sipped from yet another drink. “I’m not even sure what’s happening anymore,” she admitted, before bursting into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

Mor, of course, was in her element. She had Feyre by the hand, pulling her onto the makeshift dance floor. “Come on, Feyre! Show us those moves!”

Feyre, not one to back down from a challenge, joined in with gusto, the two of them dancing wildly, their laughter filling the room. It was infectious, and soon, we were all moving to the beat, lost in the moment.

The alcohol flowed freely, and it wasn’t long before we were all well beyond tipsy. Nesta, usually the most reserved of us, was now draped over the couch, clutching her drink and singing along to the music—though the words were more slurred than sung. Mor had taken it upon herself to DJ, switching between tracks with the enthusiasm of someone who was enjoying every second of the chaos she had created.

As for me, I was somewhere in the middle of it all, dancing with Feyre and Mor one minute, then flopping down next to Nesta the next, my head spinning in the best possible way.

“This was the best idea ever,” I declared, holding up my drink in a toast to… well, everything. The lights, the music, the ridiculousness of it all.

“I told you!” Mor shot back, barely managing to avoid spilling her drink as she twirled around. “This is what girls’ night is all about!”

Feyre, who had given up on dancing in favor of lounging on the couch with Nesta, nodded vigorously. “We should do this every week.”

“Yes!” Nesta agreed, raising her glass—though she missed her mouth when she tried to take a sip, spilling a bit of her drink on herself. She didn’t seem to mind, though. “Every week!”

We all dissolved into laughter, the kind that made your stomach ache and tears stream down your face. It was a night of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind of night that reminded me just how lucky I was to have these incredible women in my life.

At some point—who knows when—the music was turned up even louder, and we all found ourselves back on the dance floor, moving in a way that was far more about having fun than it was about looking good. Not that any of us cared. This was our night, and we were going to make the most of it.

As the night wore on and the drinks continued to flow, the line between reality and whatever madness we had created blurred even further. The lights, the music, the alcohol—it all mixed together in a haze of color and sound, until it felt like we were in another world entirely, a world where nothing mattered but the here and now.

At some point, Mor pulled out a bottle of something stronger—something that definitely wasn’t wine—and poured shots for everyone. We downed them without hesitation, the burn in our throats a reminder that we were alive, that we were here, that this night would be one we’d never forget.

And it was. By the time we finally collapsed in a heap on the floor, the world spinning around us, I knew that this was a night I’d look back on and smile. We were drunk, we were ridiculous, and it was perfect.

As we lay there, catching our breath and trying to stop the room from spinning, Feyre turned to me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and alcohol. “You know,” she said, her voice soft, “this was exactly what we needed.”

I smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Yeah,” I agreed, my voice barely a whisper. “Me too.”

Tonight was one for the books.

The night had taken a wild, exhilarating turn. What started as a simple girls' night had quickly evolved into something far more chaotic and, quite frankly, downright ridiculous. The alcohol was flowing freely, and the atmosphere was buzzing with energy as the room transformed into our very own private club.

But just when I thought the night couldn’t get any crazier, Mor clapped her hands together, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Alright, ladies, let’s up the stakes. Who’s up for a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’?”

Feyre groaned, though her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “Oh gods, this is going to get dangerous.”

“Exactly,” Mor said, grabbing a fresh bottle of something strong and pouring shots for everyone. “We’re already half-gone, so let’s see who can survive this round.”

Nesta eyed the shot glass suspiciously but took it anyway. “Fine, but let’s keep it reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” Mor scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s the fun in that?”

With everyone armed with a shot glass, we settled onto the floor, forming a loose circle. Mor, as the instigator, went first. She smirked, lifting her glass. “Never have I ever… kissed someone with the intention of getting free drinks.”

Feyre immediately took a sip, as did Mor, who winked at me. “What can I say? Sometimes, charm gets you a long way.”

"When the person buying your drinks is Rhysand, it doesn't count Feyre" I said laughing at her.

Nesta, surprisingly, didn’t drink, but she gave a small smile. “I prefer to pay my own way, thank you very much.”

Next, it was Feyre’s turn. She narrowed her eyes in mock concentration before grinning. “Never have I ever… gotten out of trouble by flirting.”

Mor and I immediately took our shots, causing Feyre to raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you two, spill.”

Mor grinned, clearly eager to share. “Alright, so there was this one time in the Summer Court… I was supposed to be at a formal dinner, but I got a little sidetracked with a rather charming advisor. We were caught by one of the palace guards, and let’s just say, I had to turn on the charm full blast to avoid a very awkward conversation with Tarquin.”

Feyre shook her head, laughing. “Only you, Mor.”

I couldn’t help but join in. “For me, it was during a mission. I needed to get past a rather stubborn gatekeeper who wasn’t interested in letting me through. A little flirting and a lot of batting my eyelashes later, and suddenly I was the most important person on his list. I got what I needed, and he never even knew what hit him.”

Nesta looked at me with a smirk. “I’m surprised Az didn’t handle that for you.”

“Oh, he would’ve,” I admitted with a laugh. “But sometimes, a girl’s got to do things her own way.”

Feyre shook her head, still smiling. “Rhys would’ve been so jealous.”

“Please,” Mor scoffed, “Rhys would have encouraged it.”

Nesta chuckled, lifting her glass. “Alright, next one. Never have I ever… sent a dirty thought to your partner to see their reaction.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately took their shots, while Mor and I exchanged surprised looks, our glasses untouched.

Feyre’s cheeks flushed as she laughed. “I did it to Rhys once during a meeting—he nearly choked on his drink. I thought I was being subtle, but apparently, his reaction was… noticeable. I think I almost caused a diplomatic incident.”

Mor burst out laughing, her eyes wide. “Oh, I would’ve paid to see that.”

Nesta, surprisingly, offered her own story, her voice more subdued but with a hint of amusement. “I sent Cassian a… vivid thought while he was training the Illyrians. He dropped his sword mid-swing and nearly took out an entire row of recruits. They didn’t know what happened, but Cassian spent the rest of the day giving me death glares.”

The room erupted into laughter, the image of Cassian flustered and distracted by Nesta’s thoughts too much to handle.

“Well, I’ve never done it,” I said, still giggling. “But now I’m tempted. I wonder how a certain shadow singer would react.”

“Knowing you, Y/N” Feyre said with a grin, “he would probably drop everything he is doing to go join you.”

“Oh, definitely” I agreed, taking a sip of my drink anyway. “But let’s keep going, shall we?”

The game continued, the questions growing bolder, the shots more frequent, and the laughter louder. By the time we were on the tenth or eleventh round, there was no turning back.

“Alright, my turn,” Nesta said, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Never have I ever… had someone walk in on me during sex.”

Mor and Feyre both took a sip, while I hesitated before taking mine. “Let’s just say, it was awkward,” I said with a cringe, though I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

Mor, however, was not about to let it go. “Oh, no, no. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not give us details. Who walked in?”

I smirked, taking another sip of my drink for courage. “Rhys. And let’s just say, I’ve never seen him retreat from a room so fast.”

That sent Mor into peals of laughter, nearly spilling her drink as she doubled over. “Oh, I can just picture it! Poor Rhys, walking in on you two… I bet Az didn’t even bat an eyelash.”

Nesta snickered, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “And I’m sure Azriel was just as composed as ever, right? Or did he actually look guilty for once?”

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. “Let’s just say, Azriel wasn’t too happy about the interruption. But once Rhys was out of the room… he made sure to make up for lost time.”

Feyre choked on her drink, laughing as she wiped her mouth. “I bet he did! Azriel’s got that silent intensity… but I’m sure he can be anything but quiet when he wants to be.”

“He’s very… intense, in more ways than one.”

Mor grinned wickedly, holding her glass up for a toast. “To very intense lovers who know how to get the job done—and then some!”

The night had taken on a life of its own, with the alcohol flowing and inhibitions flying out the window. We were deep into the game of "Never Have I Ever," and it seemed like nothing was off-limits at this point.

Feyre, clearly feeling the effects of the drinks, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright, ladies, last one from me. Never have I ever… tried the ‘Moonlit Arch’ position.”

There was a pause as the question hung in the air. Mor immediately downed her shot, as did Feyre. Nesta hesitated, then took hers as well. Meanwhile, I just sat there, my glass untouched, staring at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Wait… what?” I asked, feeling completely out of the loop. “What’s the ‘Moonlit Arch’? Are you sure you didn’t made that up ?”

Feyre’s grin widened as she set down her glass. “Oh, sweetie, you’ve been missing out. How do I explain this?”

Before I could protest, Feyre had jumped up from her spot, a bit unsteady but determined. She sauntered over to me, her eyes gleaming with tipsy mischief. “It’s easier to show than tell.”

The next thing you knew, Feyre was pushing me back onto the ground, her hands on your shoulders. “Relax, this is educational,” she teased, as she gently pushed me down and straddled my lap.

“Feyre, what are you—” You began, but was cut off as she leaned down, bringing her lips close to your ear.

“It’s all about the angle,” Feyre whispered, her breath warm against your ear. “You lie back, just like this…”

She gently guided me into position, her hands on my shoulders as she demonstrated. Before you knew it, Nesta was there too, her eyes gleaming with the same mischief as she grabbed Feyre’s hands and placed them on either side of your face.

“It’s all about guiding the energy,” Nesta murmured, her voice low and sultry. “Make sure your partner knows exactly where to focus.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was tinged with nervousness and the absurdity of the situation. “You’re both insane.”

“Insanely helpful,” Mor chimed in, a grin spreading across her face as she sauntered over. She took Feyre’s hands and moved them down to my chest, giving a light squeeze. “And don’t forget about the importance of… other areas.”

“Mor!” You gasped, my face burning as you tried to squirm away, but the alcohol had made me sluggish, and the three of them had me pinned in place.

“It’s all in good fun,” Feyre said with a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she gently patted my cheek. “Now, the trick is to—”

—

It was nearly dawn, and the soft light of morning was beginning to creep through the windows of the townhouse. One by one, the guys emerged from their rooms, each of them groggy and slightly disoriented, but with a nagging feeling in the back of their minds.

Rhysand was the first to step into the hallway, his brow furrowed in concern. “Is it just me, or is something off?” he muttered to himself.

Cassian’s door creaked open next, and he stuck his head out, his hair a wild mess. “Where the hell are they?”

Azriel appeared a moment later, his eyes shadowed with worry. “They’re not answering,” he said quietly, though his voice was tinged with concern.

The three of them exchanged glances, the same thought running through their minds: their mates weren’t back yet, and none of them had responded to the bond.

Cassian scratched his head, still half-asleep. “You think they’re okay? Maybe they… got distracted?”

“Distracted?” Rhys repeated, raising an eyebrow. “By what, exactly?”

Azriel sighed, trying to remain calm. “It’s just a girls’ night. They’re probably just… having fun.”

Cassian leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, but still… it’s nearly morning. Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

Rhys glanced toward the window, watching as the sky began to lighten. “They should be. I can’t get through to Feyre.”

“Same with Nesta,” Cassian added, his worry finally starting to show.

Azriel’s expression darkened slightly as he nodded. “And Y/N’s just giving off this… contented feeling. But nothing else.”

The three males stood in silence for a moment, the unease growing between them. Finally, Cassian huffed and pushed off the wall. “Alright, that’s it. We’re going to check on them.”

Azriel hesitated, glancing between the other two. “You’re all overreacting. They’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.”

“Sure they are,” Cassian agreed, a glint of concern in his eyes. “But aren’t you just a little curious about what they’re up to?”

Azriel hesitated, glancing out the window at the faint light of dawn creeping over the horizon. “Maybe… a little.”

Rhys grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. “Then let’s go. If nothing else, we can make sure they get home safe.”

The three of them headed out, taking to the skies with ease. It wasn’t long before they spotted your apartment building, and as they landed on the rooftop across the street, they were greeted with an unexpected sight.

Bright, colorful lights were flashing from your windows, pulsing in time with the faint thrum of music that could be heard even from outside. It looked more like a nightclub than a place where anyone would be getting a decent night’s sleep.

Cassian stared at the windows, his mouth slightly agape. “What the hell…?”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “I didn’t know Y/N had a nightclub setup in her apartment.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. “She doesn’t. Or at least, she didn’t.”

Cassian shook his head, his concern deepening. “Come on, just a peek. I’ve got to see what kind of chaos they’ve created.”

They descended to your apartment door, and as they approached, the music grew louder, the flashing lights spilling out from under the doorframe, casting strange, colorful shadows in the hallway.

Rhys knocked, but there was no response. He knocked again, louder this time, but the only sound was the thumping music and muffled voices from inside.

Cassian glanced at the others, a serious expression on his face. “You sure they’re alive in there?”

The three of them exchanged worried looks, and before anyone could suggest otherwise, Cassian stepped forward, bracing his shoulder against the door. “Alright, let’s find out.”

With a firm push, they forced the door open—and were immediately greeted by the sight of complete and utter chaos.

The apartment was a mess, with bottles and snacks strewn everywhere. But what caught their attention was the scene in the living room: Mor and Nesta were on the floor, laughing uncontrollably, while Feyre was perched on top of you on the ground, pinning you down and demonstrating something with far too much enthusiasm.

Mor had one hand on your chest, playfully squeezing your breast, while Nesta’s hands were on either side of your face, her touch light but clearly part of the explanation Feyre was giving.

The moment the door flew open, all four of you turned your heads in perfect synchronization, staring at the doorway with wide, startled eyes.

The guys froze in the entrance, their faces a mix of shock and utter confusion. It was as if they had just walked into another world, one they couldn’t quite make sense of.

Feyre, still on top of you, blinked in surprise, her hands frozen in place. Mor and Nesta, still in their positions, were too drunk to even try to move, their eyes fixed on the three males standing in the doorway.

For a long moment, there was complete silence, the only sound the faint thrum of the music and the distant hum of the lights.

“What the hell…?” Cassian finally managed to mutter, his voice laced with disbelief.

Rhys, his usually calm demeanor shattered, shook his head slowly. “I think we interrupted something… very strange.”

Azriel, for his part, could only stare, his mind trying to process the chaotic scene in front of him. “Should we… come back later?”

The sudden absurdity of the situation hit you all at once, and you burst into laughter, the alcohol-fueled hysteria too strong to resist. Feyre, still on top of you, collapsed onto your chest, shaking with laughter, while Mor and Nesta lost it completely, both of them rolling on the floor as they tried to catch their breath.

The guys, however, remained rooted in place, their expressions still a mix of shock and confusion as they watched the four of you dissolve into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Cassian was the first to recover, though his voice was still laced with disbelief. “What in the world is going on here?”

Feyre, still laughing, finally managed to roll off you, her face flushed as she wiped at her eyes. “I guess we got a little carried away.”

“A little?” Rhys echoed, his voice flat as he glanced around the room. “This place looks like a warzone.”

Mor, still struggling to sit up, waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. We were just having fun!”

Azriel, who had finally managed to close his mouth, walked over to you, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress. “Let’s get you home.”

You looked up at him, your smile turning into a confused frown. “But this is my home, Az.”

Feyre, catching your words, let out a snort before dissolving into another fit of laughter. Before long, you were both on the floor, laughing so hard that you could barely breathe, the absurdity of the entire situation hitting you all at once.

Mor, still perched on the floor, threw her head back and screamed with laughter. “This was better than every night at Rita’s I’ve ever had in my life!”

Nesta, who was trying her best to stay composed, finally gave in, collapsing onto the floor beside Mor as the two of them giggled uncontrollably.

The guys, still standing in the doorway, could only watch as the four of you descended into a drunken, giggling mess, their shock slowly giving way to resignation.

Rhys sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Cassian, finally managing a grin, shook his head. “We’re going to have to carry them out of here, aren’t we?”

Azriel, who had gently lifted you to your feet again, just nodded, his concern still evident. “Probably. But at least they had fun.”

---

The chaos of the night had finally started to wind down. Mor and Nesta, still giggling, were being helped out by Rhys and Cassian, who looked more than ready to get everyone home and into bed. But you, still tipsy and more than a little giggly, had managed to cling onto Azriel.

He lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your face nestled against his neck, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. The cool night air hit your skin as he carried you out of the apartment, but you barely noticed, too focused on the warmth of his body and the comforting scent of him surrounding you.

Azriel walked steadily, his wings twitching slightly with every step. You could feel the muscles in his back flex as he held you close, his grip firm yet gentle. Despite how drunk you were, a playful smile tugged at your lips as your breath fanned across his neck.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “you’re really strong… and warm. Like, really warm.”

Azriel’s chuckle rumbled through his chest, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Good to know,” he replied, his voice taking on a huskier edge. “Are you comfortable?”

You nodded, snuggling closer to him, your breath warm against his neck. “Mmhmm. This is nice. I could stay like this forever.”

He smiled, adjusting his hold on you slightly as he continued walking. “I wouldn’t mind that either. But we should get you home. You had quite the night.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rested your head against him. “Yeah… tonight was fun. I think we broke the apartment, though. Sorry about that.”

Azriel shook his head, his smile growing. “Don’t worry about it. It’s your place—you can do whatever you want. And it’s nothing a little cleaning won’t fix.”

There was a brief pause before you giggled, the sound light and airy. “Do you think… do you think Rhys was mad? I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

Azriel’s lips brushed against your temple in a soft kiss. “No, I don’t think he was mad. Maybe a little surprised, but that’s all. He knows you were just having fun.”

You hummed in response, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the back of his neck. “Good. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble… But you know what’s funny?”

“What’s that?” he asked, his tone indulgent as he continued walking.

“I kept thinking,” you whispered, your voice a little more serious now, “that I was so happy tonight… because you weren’t just my mate, but also my best friend.”

Azriel’s heart swelled at your words, and he tightened his grip on you slightly. “I’m happy to hear that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re my best friend too, you know. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You smiled against his neck, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “You’re so sweet, Az. The best.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “I’m just being honest. Now let’s get you home, so you can get some rest. You’ve had a long night.”

“Mmhmm. This is very comfortable. I think I’m enjoying this a little too much.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he tried to maintain control. “Is that so?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of his neck. “I’ve always liked being this close to you… feeling you.”

He sucked in a breath, the sound a mixture of surprise and desire. “You’re drunk,” he reminded you gently, though there was a strain in his voice as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

Azriel’s steps faltered as you reached the townhouse, his heart hammering in his chest. You could feel the way his pulse quickened under your touch, and it only made you more bold. “And what is it you want?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You smiled against his neck, your teeth grazing his skin ever so lightly. “I want you, Az. Always.”

His breath hitched as he carried you inside, the familiar darkness of the townhouse wrapping around you both. Without a word, he started toward his bedroom, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

He pushed the door open with his foot and crossed the threshold, finally setting you down on the edge of his bed. But before he could step back, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to you, your lips crashing against his in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips, pulling you closer as you leaned back onto the bed, dragging him down with you. His wings flared out behind him, twitching as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again.

He pulled back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down at you, your face flushed, eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down to you as your hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest. “I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips, your voice a sultry invitation.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Azriel’s lips crashed back onto yours, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive hunger. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours as he tore at your clothes, desperate to feel you, to have you.

His hands slid up under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

He paused at the hem of your shirt, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. You nodded, and he pulled the fabric over your head, tossing it aside before his mouth descended on your chest, his tongue tracing a path down to your breasts.

You gasped as his lips closed around your nipple, his hand sliding down to the waistband of your pants. With a quick tug, he had them off, leaving you bare beneath him. Azriel’s eyes raked over your body, taking in every curve, every inch of skin as if he were memorizing you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice reverent as his hands slid down your sides, his lips following the path of his hands.

You reached for him, pulling him back up to you, needing to feel his skin against yours. “I need you,” you whispered, your voice breathless with anticipation.

Azriel shuddered at your words, his lips capturing yours in another searing kiss as he positioned himself above you. He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt, but all he found was desire, love, and a deep, unyielding trust.

With a soft groan, he slid into you, the sensation drawing a gasp from both of you as your bodies finally connected, fitting together perfectly. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being with you like this, but it wasn’t long before the tension between you became too much to bear.

You moved together, each thrust deepening the connection between you, your moans and gasps filling the room as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure down your spine as he whispered your name like a prayer.

As you neared the edge, you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as you felt the wave of pleasure crashing over you. Azriel followed soon after, his movements becoming erratic as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he reached his climax.

For a moment, the world stood still, the only sound the ragged breaths of you and Azriel as you held each other close. Then, slowly, the tension ebbed away, leaving you both in a state of blissful exhaustion.

As you both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow, a soft giggle escaped your lips. Azriel, still holding you close, raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low and affectionate.

You shifted slightly, a playful glint in your eyes as you rolled over, pushing him onto his back. Azriel let out a surprised laugh, his hands instinctively moving to rest on your hips as you straddled him, your hair falling around your face in a soft curtain.

“What do you have in mind, love?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and desire.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Something the girls showed me earlier…”

Azriel’s eyes darkened with intrigue as you began to move your hips in a slow, teasing rhythm, your hands sliding up his chest. He sucked in a breath, his fingers digging into your thighs as he tried to hold on to the last remnants of his control.

“Is that so?” he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your lips trailing soft kisses down his jawline as you continued to move against him, the friction sending shivers of pleasure through both of you.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, his touch growing more desperate as you began to pick up the pace, your hips rolling in a way that had him groaning your name.

“Y/N…” he rasped, his eyes locked onto yours as you took control, guiding him deeper inside you with each movement.

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you leaned down to kiss him, your tongue teasing his as your movements became more intense. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, his wings flaring out behind him as he struggled to keep up with the pleasure you were giving him.

“What did those girls teach you?” he managed to say between gasps, his voice filled with both awe and amusement.

You just grinned, moving your hips in a way that had him arching off the bed, a deep groan escaping his lips. “Just a little something they thought you might enjoy.”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back against the pillow as he surrendered to the sensations you were giving him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, though the smile on his face told you he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You chuckled, leaning down to kiss him deeply as you pushed both of you closer to the edge. “Then let’s make it worth it.”

With that, you moved even faster, your bodies moving in perfect sync as the pleasure built to a crescendo. The room was filled with the sound of your moans and gasps, the intensity of the moment taking you both higher and higher until finally, you both shattered together, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

As you collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily, Azriel wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

“That was…” Azriel began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the words.

“Amazing?” you offered, your voice still breathless as you snuggled against him.

“Amazing,” he agreed, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “But also… unexpected.”

You giggled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Just trying to keep things interesting.”

Azriel smiled, his hands sliding up and down your back in a soothing motion. “You definitely succeeded. But now, I think it’s time for some sleep.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. “Yeah… sleep sounds good.”

With a contented sigh, you let your eyes drift closed, still wrapped in Azriel’s warm embrace. And as you drifted off to sleep, a satisfied smile on your lips, you knew that no matter what surprises the night brought, you and Azriel would always find a way to enjoy them together.

---

don't hesitate to comment, I read them ;)

[fr0stf4ll]

Flavours of Prythian

Coming from that request

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; Y/N, a talented restaurateur’s life is turned upside down when she forms an unexpected bond with Azriel, the mysterious Spymaster of the Night Court. Befriending Elain, who confides in her about a male she’s trying to win over, she eagerly helps her new friend — only to discover the male is none other than Azriel. When the bond between her and Azriel snaps at first touch, she’s torn between loyalty to Elain and the undeniable connection she shares with the shadowy warrior.

word count ; 7.8k

warning; //

notes; Yoo everyone, here is my first one shot ! Thank you again for the request<333 Should I do a more general taglist so that you guys can be permanently on it. Enjoy it, see you <3

---

Prythian was a land of many wonders, from the towering peaks of the Illyrian mountains to the lush, rolling hills of the Spring Court. But for you, the true magic of the land was found in its kitchens, markets, and the rich flavors that each court had to offer.

You had always been drawn to the culinary arts, even as a child. Your curiosity led you to travel across the courts, tasting the distinct dishes of each region, learning from the most skilled chefs, and uncovering the hidden culinary gems that most would overlook. You spent years journeying from the Day Court, where spices danced like sunlight on the tongue, to the Winter Court, where hearty stews and warm bread were a staple against the biting cold. In the Night Court, you discovered the delicate balance of flavors that mirrored the starlit skies above, and in the Summer Court, you indulged in the rich, vibrant tastes that seemed to capture the very essence of the sun-drenched beaches.

Your travels weren’t just about satisfying your own cravings; they were a quest to bring the best of Prythian’s diverse cuisines to others. And so, you did the impossible—you opened a series of restaurants, each one in a different court, each one a testament to the culinary traditions you had learned and made your own. Your establishments became a haven for those seeking not only a good meal but an experience, a journey through Prythian’s tastes and textures without ever leaving their seat.

Your flagship restaurant, nestled in the heart of Velaris, was particularly special. It was here, in the City of Starlight, that you combined the flavors of all the courts into a menu that was as varied and enchanting as Prythian itself. Word quickly spread of the remarkable dishes served within, and soon, it wasn’t just the citizens of Velaris who came to dine—High Fae from every court sought out your creations.

One such evening, as you oversaw the final preparations for the dinner service, the door to your restaurant swung open, and in walked a familiar face—Elain Archeron. Elain had been wandering through Velaris, taking in the beauty of the city, when the warm, inviting aroma from your restaurant had drawn her in.

Elain was known for her gentle nature, her love of gardening, and her keen eye for beauty in all things. But tonight, she was here for something different—a new experience, a chance to explore another form of beauty through the culinary delights that had been whispered about throughout the city.

As Elain took her seat near a window overlooking the Sidra, she immediately felt at ease. There was a sense of comfort and warmth in the restaurant, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself walking over to greet her. She looked up with a warm smile, her eyes bright with curiosity and a touch of shyness.

“Welcome,” you said, your own smile reflecting her warmth. “I’m Y/N, the owner and chef here. It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Elain’s smile widened, and she nodded appreciatively. “I’ve heard so much about this place, I just had to come see for myself. The aromas alone are worth the visit.”

You chuckled, feeling an instant connection with her. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll make sure the food lives up to the expectations.”

As the evening went on, you found yourself returning to Elain’s table more than once, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. You talked about your travels, the different courts you had visited, and the inspiration behind some of the dishes on the menu. Elain, in turn, shared stories of her own—of her love for gardening, the peace she found in the quiet moments spent among the flowers, and her growing appreciation for the little joys in life, like a perfectly prepared meal.

There was something comforting in the way you both connected, as if you had known each other for much longer than just one evening. By the time dessert arrived—a delicate pastry inspired by the flavors of the Summer Court—you and Elain were chatting like old friends, the conversation punctuated by shared laughter and the occasional appreciative hum as she tasted each new dish.

As the night drew to a close, Elain hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’d love to come back,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

You smiled, genuinely pleased by the idea. “I’d like that. You’re welcome anytime, Elain.”

Elain quickly became a regular fixture at your restaurant, her visits growing more frequent as the two of you bonded over shared stories, laughter, and the occasional glass of wine. It wasn’t long before your casual conversations began to take on a more personal tone, with Elain confiding in you about her life, her hopes, and her dreams.

One evening, after the dinner rush had died down and the restaurant had settled into a peaceful hum, Elain arrived with a particular glint in her eye. You noticed it the moment she walked in, her steps lighter, her smile brighter. She took her usual seat by the window, and you didn’t waste any time joining her, a knowing smile on your face.

“Alright, Elain,” you said, sitting down across from her. “You’re glowing tonight. What’s going on?”

Elain blushed, her hands fluttering nervously in her lap. “It’s nothing, really… Well, maybe it’s something. I don’t know.”

You leaned in closer, eyes wide with curiosity. “Come on, you can’t just leave me hanging like that. Spill!”

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in. “There’s… this male,” she began, her voice soft but filled with excitement. “I’ve been trying to get his attention for a while now, and I think… I think it might actually be working.”

You couldn’t help but squeal in delight, clapping your hands together. “Elain! This is amazing! Tell me everything—who is he? How did it start? What’s he like?”

Elain giggled at your enthusiasm, her own excitement bubbling to the surface as she began to share the details. “He’s… well, he’s different. Reserved, I guess you could say. But there’s something about him that just draws me in. He’s kind, in his own way, and he has this quiet strength that I really admire.”

You listened intently, hanging on her every word as she described this mysterious male who had captured her attention. It was clear that she was smitten, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for her.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, your mind already racing with ideas. “How are you going to win him over?”

Elain smiled shyly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Well, I thought… maybe I could start by cooking for him. You know, something simple but special. He loves good food, and I think it might help him see… well, see me.”

You practically jumped out of your seat with excitement. “Elain, that’s perfect! And you’re in the right place—I can help you with recipes, tips, anything you need. We’ll make sure this meal is unforgettable.”

Her eyes lit up with gratitude. “Really? You’d help me?”

“Of course!” you replied, beaming. “This is what friends are for. And besides, I love a good love story. We’ll make sure he can’t resist you after this.”

From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. Elain would visit the restaurant every few days, sometimes to try out a new dish, other times just to chat and share the latest developments in her budding romance. The more she talked about this male, the more you could see how deeply she cared for him, and it made you all the more determined to help her succeed.

You spent hours in the kitchen together, experimenting with different ingredients and techniques, crafting meals that were not only delicious but also filled with meaning. Elain would watch you work, her eyes wide with admiration as you explained the significance of each spice, each flavor, and how it could be used to convey emotion.

“There’s a language in food,” you told her one afternoon as you kneaded dough for a loaf of bread. “Every dish tells a story. When you cook for someone, you’re sharing a part of yourself with them. It’s intimate, in a way.”

Elain nodded thoughtfully, her hands busy chopping herbs for the soup you were preparing. “I never thought of it like that, but it makes sense. I want him to know how I feel, even if I can’t always find the words.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for your friend. “Then we’ll make sure every bite he takes is filled with love.”

As the days turned into weeks, Elain’s visits became a highlight of your day. She would burst through the door, her eyes sparkling as she recounted her latest interactions with the male who had stolen her heart. You would listen with rapt attention, offering advice and encouragement, celebrating every small victory and reassuring her during moments of doubt.

“He loved the soup,” she told you one evening, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “He said it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. And I think… I think he’s starting to notice me.”

You grinned, feeling a surge of pride. “I told you, Elain. No one can resist good food, especially when it’s made with love.”

She laughed, her joy infectious. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve helped me so much.”

You waved off her gratitude with a smile. “Nonsense. You’re the one doing all the hard work. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

But the truth was, you had come to care deeply for Elain and her happiness. It wasn’t just about the food anymore—it was about seeing your friend find the love and connection she so deserved. And as she continued to come back, sharing her hopes and dreams, you couldn’t help but feel that you had found something special too.

Your friendship with Elain had become a source of joy and fulfillment, a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful connections were forged in the simplest of moments—over a shared meal, a quiet conversation, or a burst of laughter that echoed through the night.

And so, as the seasons changed and the nights grew longer, you continued to help Elain in her quest to win over this mysterious male, knowing that whatever the outcome, you had found a true friend in her. A friend who had come into your life unexpectedly, but who had quickly become an irreplaceable part of it.

Weeks had passed since you and Elain had first started crafting meals together, each one a carefully planned step in her quest to win over the male who had captivated her heart. Every visit, every dish, brought a new story, a new glimmer of hope in her eyes. You were genuinely happy for her, thrilled to see her so full of life and excitement. So, when she asked if she could bring him to your restaurant for dinner, you couldn’t have been more supportive.

“Of course, Elain!” you’d said, flashing her an encouraging smile. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect. It’ll be a night he won’t forget.”

You’d spent the entire day preparing, selecting only the finest ingredients and crafting a menu that would showcase the very best of what your restaurant had to offer. You wanted this night to be special for her—special for them. You had no idea how special it would become, for reasons you never could have imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city of Velaris in a warm, golden glow, Elain arrived at the restaurant with a male by her side. You couldn’t quite make out his features at first, but the way she clung to his arm, her eyes bright with anticipation, told you all you needed to know. This was the one.

As they stepped into the softly lit dining room, you finally got a good look at him—Azriel, the shadowsinger of the Night Court. You had heard of him, of course, through whispers and stories, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment your eyes met his.

Elain beamed as she introduced the two of you, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “Azriel, this is Y/N, the wonderful chef I’ve been telling you about. And Y/N, this is Azriel.”

He extended his hand to you, his expression polite, reserved. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.

You reached out, intending to greet him with the same friendly courtesy you offered all your patrons. But the moment your hand touched his, something shifted in the air—a sudden, overwhelming rush of heat and energy that took your breath away. The bond snapped into place with such force that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

For a split second, the world around you faded, and all you could feel was the pull, the undeniable connection that tethered your soul to his. His eyes widened in shock, and you knew he felt it too—the bond, the realization that fate had just entwined your lives in a way neither of you had expected.

But as quickly as the bond formed, reality came crashing back down. Elain was standing there, her eyes full of hope, completely unaware of the storm that had just erupted inside you. She had no idea that the male she was so clearly infatuated with, the one she had been working so hard to win over, was now bound to you in a way that went beyond anything you could have ever imagined.

Panic surged through you. How could this happen? How could you possibly accept this bond when it would mean shattering the friendship you had built with Elain, when it would mean taking away the one thing she wanted so desperately?

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

With a forced smile, you quickly withdrew your hand from Azriel’s grasp, the warmth of the bond lingering like a phantom touch. “It’s nice to meet you too,” you managed to say, though your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, confusion and something deeper flickering in his hazel eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself look too long, couldn’t let yourself feel what was brewing inside you. Not when Elain was standing right there, her happiness hanging in the balance.

“Please, take a seat,” you said, stepping back and motioning toward the table you had specially prepared for them. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

Elain smiled, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart, and took her seat. Azriel hesitated for just a moment before following suit, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes again. You couldn’t.

As the evening went on, you did your best to stay professional, to act as if nothing had changed. You brought out dish after dish, each one more exquisite than the last, all while ignoring the fire burning in your chest. Every time Azriel tried to catch your eye, every time he tried to speak to you, you found a reason to turn away, to focus on something—anything—else.

Elain chattered on, completely unaware of the tension building between you and Azriel. She complimented the food, praised your skills, and even mentioned how much Azriel seemed to be enjoying himself. And through it all, you kept up the facade, kept pretending as if the bond snapping into place hadn't turned your entire world upside down.

But it was getting harder. With every glance Azriel sent your way, with every quiet question he tried to ask you in passing, it felt like the invisible thread between you was pulling tighter, demanding to be acknowledged. Yet, you refused to give in.

As the night dragged on, the tension between you and Azriel grew unbearable. He could sense it—you knew he could—but Elain remained blissfully unaware, happily recounting the gossip from the latest happenings in Velaris, smiling every time she caught Azriel glancing her way.

Azriel's eyes kept drifting back to you. Not once, not twice, but every time you approached the table, as if he couldn’t stop himself. You could feel the weight of his gaze burning into you, the way his expression darkened each time you brushed past him without so much as a word. He knew you were avoiding him, and he didn’t like it.

When you brought out the final dish—an indulgent dessert meant to close the evening on a sweet note—Elain excused herself to step outside for a moment, leaving you alone with Azriel for the first time since the bond snapped.

You could feel his presence before you even turned around, the quiet intensity of his gaze. And as you set the plate down in front of him, you knew you couldn’t avoid this confrontation any longer.

“Y/N.” His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, but the way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. “We need to talk.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of you. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, your voice cold and distant, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you.

Azriel leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “Don’t lie to me. You felt it too.”

The bond. He didn’t have to say the word for you to know what he meant. It was a truth that hung in the air between you, undeniable and impossible to ignore. And yet, you had to. You had to protect Elain, to protect your friendship, no matter the cost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your heart aching with the effort it took to deny the pull you felt toward him.

Azriel’s expression darkened, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t shut me out.”

But you couldn’t let him in. If you let him in, if you allowed yourself to even consider what the bond meant, you would be betraying Elain in the worst way possible. How could you even think about being with him when she had spent weeks confiding in you, trusting you with her feelings for him?

“No, Azriel.” You stepped back, your voice firmer this time. “I can’t.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Why? Because of Elain?”

You winced at the mention of her name, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on your chest. “She cares about you. A lot.”

Azriel's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s not like that between Elain and me.”

But you shook your head, refusing to let yourself believe it. “It doesn’t matter. She’s my friend. I can’t—I won’t—do this to her.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Azriel opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the sound of the door opening broke the silence.

Elain re-entered the dining room, a bright smile on her face as she made her way back to the table. “Sorry about that,” she said cheerfully, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Azriel. “What did I miss?”

You forced a smile, masking the turmoil raging inside you. “Nothing,” you lied, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. “Just making sure everything’s perfect.”

Elain beamed, clearly pleased with how the evening had gone. “It really has been perfect, Y/N. Thank you so much for everything.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally looked away, the tension in his jaw clear as he nodded in agreement. “Yes… thank you.”

You nodded once, offering them both a stiff smile before excusing yourself from the room, your chest tightening with every step you took away from them.

As you retreated to the quiet of the kitchen, your hands bracing against the counter, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. The bond had snapped. Azriel was your mate. And yet, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it.

You had promised yourself you’d never hurt Elain. And if shutting down every advance Azriel made, if pushing away the one person the Cauldron had chosen for you was the only way to keep that promise, then that’s exactly what you would do.

Even if it tore you apart.

Back in the kitchen, you leaned heavily against the counter, your hands gripping the cold marble surface as you tried to regain your composure. The bond had snapped, and with it, any sense of stability you had managed to hold onto throughout the evening. The world felt off-kilter, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink.

One of your sous chefs, a sharp-eyed female who had worked with you since the restaurant’s inception, noticed your pallor. She set down the pan she was holding and approached you, concern evident in her eyes.

“Y/N,” she began cautiously, her voice gentle but probing, “are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a nod, though you knew your expression wasn’t convincing. “I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice was shaky and unsteady.

She frowned, clearly not buying your response. Her eyes scanned your face, taking in the unusual paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. “You don’t look fine. Do you need to sit down? Maybe get some air?”

You shook your head, trying to brush off her concern, but the weight of the bond pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. “No, I’ll be okay. It’s just… been a long night.”

She hesitated, still studying you closely, before glancing around the bustling kitchen. “But, Y/N,” she continued, her tone turning more inquisitive, “it’s strange. You always insist on preparing Miss Elain’s meals yourself, especially when she’s bringing a guest. But tonight, you didn’t even touch the preparation. You left it all to us.”

You froze at her words, the reality of what had happened sinking in even deeper. She was right—normally, you would have insisted on handling every detail of Elain’s meal, wanting to ensure that everything was perfect for your friend. But tonight, when it mattered most, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to do it.

The truth was, the moment you realized Elain was bringing someone special, you couldn’t bring yourself to touch the ingredients. You had let the staff handle everything because deep down, some part of you knew something was about to change—something you weren’t ready to face.

“I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You swallowed hard, trying to find some semblance of an explanation. “I just thought… maybe it was time to let you all handle it. You’re more than capable.”

She tilted her head slightly, her frown deepening as she searched your eyes. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

You nodded again, more firmly this time, even though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. “Yes, I’m sure. I trust all of you with the kitchen. You don’t need me hovering over every detail.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she didn’t press the issue further. Instead, she offered a small, supportive smile. “Well, if you ever need a break, don’t hesitate to step out. We’ve got things under control here.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I appreciate it.”

With a final nod, she returned to her station, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the crushing weight of the bond you were trying so desperately to ignore.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to push away the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of Azriel’s eyes, the way they had widened in shock and recognition when the bond snapped into place. You couldn’t forget the warmth of his hand in yours, the way the world had seemed to narrow down to just the two of you in that fleeting, life-altering moment.

But Elain… you couldn’t do this to Elain. You couldn’t shatter her hopes, her dreams, just because of a bond you had never asked for. So, you did the only thing you could—you steeled yourself, pushed down the emotions threatening to break free, and vowed to keep your distance from Azriel, no matter how much it hurt.

You would be there for Elain, just as you always had been. You would help her win over the male she had been trying so hard to impress, even if it meant denying your own heart in the process.

Because that’s what friends did. They put each other first, no matter the cost.

And as you stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the comforting sounds of sizzling pans and clinking utensils, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would protect Elain’s happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

—

Azriel sat in the sitting room of the townhouse, surrounded by the familiar faces of the inner circle, yet he felt completely out of place. The evening had been an unexpected whirlwind of emotions, leaving him reeling from the bond that had snapped so suddenly and without warning. He had come here to find solace, to clear his mind, but every thought seemed to spiral back to you—the way you had looked at him, the way you had recoiled after the bond had formed during dinner at your restaurant.

He couldn’t understand it. How could something so significant be brushed aside so easily? He had tried to reach out to you, to understand what was happening, but you had shut him down, leaving him to grapple with the weight of the bond on his own.

The others were chatting around him, the sound of their laughter and conversation filling the room, but it all felt distant, muffled. Azriel’s mind was too clouded to focus on anything they were saying. He was trapped in a loop, replaying the moment over and over in his head—the spark, the connection, the way your eyes had widened in recognition before you quickly masked it.

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed it when Rhysand mentioned your name.

“You know, Y/N’s restaurant is one of the best in Velaris,” Rhys was saying, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Feyre and I went there a few nights ago, and it was nothing short of incredible.”

Feyre nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up at the memory. “The food was amazing. Every dish was like a work of art. She really has a talent, doesn’t she?”

Mor, who was lounging on one of the couches, joined in with a grin. “That’s not even the half of it. Y/N’s got restaurants all over Prythian—one in each court, if you can believe it. She’s become a bit of a legend in the culinary world.”

Azriel’s heart sank further as they continued to praise you, each word driving the knife deeper into his chest. It wasn’t that he disagreed with them—he knew you were remarkable, talented, someone to be admired. But right now, every mention of your name was like salt in a wound that was already festering.

Cassian, who had been listening with a smirk on his face, finally spoke up, his tone playful. “Sounds like Az here missed out on one hell of a meal tonight. Maybe he’ll have to go back and get a taste of what everyone’s raving about.”

Azriel tensed, the comment hitting far too close to home. He knew Cassian was just joking, but the implication—the reminder of what had happened tonight—was too much to bear. Without a word, he pushed himself up from his chair, his movements abrupt enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“Az?” Feyre called out, concern lacing her voice as she watched him head for the door. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he muttered something about needing some air and quickly left the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on his back as he made his escape.

As the door closed behind him, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Everyone exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Azriel’s sudden departure.

“What’s gotten into him?” Rhysand wondered aloud, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Cassian, never one to let an opportunity for humor pass by, snorted and shook his head. “Probably just realized he’s been a brooding mess all night and couldn’t handle the idea of someone actually having a good time.”

Mor chuckled, though there was a trace of worry in her eyes. “Or maybe he just can’t handle the fact that Y/N’s cooking is so damn good, it knocked him off his game.”

Rhysand sighed, glancing toward the door Azriel had just walked through. “He’s been off since he got back tonight. Maybe something happened.”

Feyre bit her lip, her expression softening. “I hope he’s alright. He seemed… different.”

Cassian, ever the optimist, leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. “He’ll be fine. Az is tougher than all of us combined. He just needs some time to brood in his room, and he’ll be back to his grumpy self in no time.”

The group shared a few more laughs at Azriel’s expense, but the concern in their eyes never fully faded. They all knew Azriel well enough to understand that when he withdrew like this, it meant something was seriously bothering him.

Azriel’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way to his room, the quiet of the hallway amplifying the thoughts swirling in his mind. As soon as he entered, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the noise, the chaos of emotions inside him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of your hand in his, the way the bond had snapped into place like it had always been there, waiting. The connection was undeniable, and yet… you had denied it. Denied him.

Why? The question gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. He had seen the recognition in your eyes, the brief moment when you had felt it too. But then, you had shut down, shut him out as if the bond meant nothing.

It was more than just confusing—it was painful. Azriel had spent centuries in the shadows, watching from the sidelines as his friends found their mates, found love. He had accepted his place, accepted that perhaps it wasn’t meant for him. And then, in the span of a heartbeat, everything had changed. You had changed it.

And now… now he was left in this strange limbo, caught between the undeniable pull of the bond and the walls you had erected between you.

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to storm back to your restaurant, to demand answers, to make you acknowledge what had happened. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t force you to accept the bond, couldn’t force you to feel something you clearly weren’t ready to face.

With a frustrated sigh, Azriel pushed off the door and crossed the room, heading to the window that overlooked Velaris. The city was peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, but his mind was anything but. He rested his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes scanning the distant lights of the city below.

“Why?” he whispered into the empty room, his voice tinged with a desperation he rarely allowed himself to feel. “Why won’t you let me in?”

But the night offered no answers, only the quiet whisper of the wind as it brushed against the windowpane.

—

The next day passed in a blur. You threw yourself into your work, letting the familiar rhythm of chopping, stirring, and plating distract you from the turmoil brewing inside. The restaurant had been busy, as always, with customers filling every table, their laughter and chatter echoing through the dining room. But despite the bustle, you couldn’t shake the heavy weight in your chest—the bond that you were trying so desperately to ignore.

When the last customer had left, you sent your staff home, insisting that you would handle the closing on your own. You needed the time alone, needed to clear your head without the distraction of others around. As the front door clicked shut behind the last of your employees, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft sound of the knife in your hand as you prepped ingredients for the next day. The rhythmic motion of slicing through vegetables was soothing, almost meditative. But as you worked, you couldn’t help but feel the tension still coiled tight in your chest.

You were focused on the task at hand, chopping carrots with practiced precision, when a voice cut through the silence, making you freeze in place.

“I bet you could be good with a sword with how you work that knife,” came the familiar, deep voice, tinged with a hint of amusement. “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be those carrots.”

Your hand stilled mid-slice, the knife hovering just above the cutting board. You knew that voice all too well—Azriel.

Slowly, you turned to face him, finding him standing just inside the doorway to the kitchen, his expression guarded but his eyes full of determination. He had changed out of his usual leathers, dressed instead in a simple tunic and trousers, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from the previous night hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. You could feel the bond thrumming faintly between you, a constant reminder of the connection you were trying so hard to deny.

But you knew why he was here. You had been avoiding him all day, refusing to even think about the conversation you knew was coming. But now, with the restaurant empty and the two of you alone, there was no escaping it.

You set the knife down on the counter, wiping your hands on a nearby towel as you steeled yourself for what was about to happen.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm as you faced Azriel. The tension in the room was almost palpable, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you. You had been dreading this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” you said, your voice firm, though you could hear the tremor in it. “We can’t do this, Azriel.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flashing in his eyes. “Why not? Y/N, you felt it too. The bond—it snapped into place. We can’t just ignore that.”

You shook your head, your heart aching at the look on his face. “I’m not ignoring it. But I can’t—I won’t act on it. Not when Elain… Not when she’s been trying so hard to win you over.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in realization, and he took a step closer to you, his expression softening as he reached out. “Y/N, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Elain wasn’t trying to win me over… not in the way you think.”

You hesitated, frowning as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean? She’s been telling me everything, Azriel. How she’s been trying to get your attention, how much she cares about you… I can’t do that to her. I won’t be the one to hurt her like that.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly frustrated but determined to set things right. “Y/N, you don’t have the full story. Elain… she’s not interested in me like that. She’s been trying to make Lucien jealous.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “Lucien? But… he’s her mate. Why would she do that?”

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. “Yes, he’s her mate. But they’ve been going through a rough patch lately. Lucien’s duties as emissary for the Night Court have kept him away, and Elain’s been feeling… neglected. She thought that by spending time with me, by pretending there was something more between us, she could get a reaction out of him. It was never about me, Y/N. It was always about Lucien.”

You felt your heart drop as the realization hit you. “So, you were just helping her as a friend?”

Azriel nodded again, his gaze steady as he took a step closer to you. “Exactly. I was only doing this to help her. I never had feelings for her in that way, and she knows that. We were just… playing a part to get Lucien’s attention.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. “She didn’t tell me any of this.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Azriel said gently. “Or maybe she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. But I promise you, Y/N, there’s nothing between Elain and me. There never was. She’s still trying to figure things out with Lucien, and I was just trying to help her.”

You looked away, your mind racing to process everything Azriel was telling you. You had been so sure, so convinced that you were protecting Elain by shutting Azriel out. But now, with this new information, everything felt uncertain, like the ground had shifted beneath your feet.

“Azriel, I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. You had built up walls around your heart, walls meant to protect both you and Elain from the pain of betrayal. But now those walls were crumbling, leaving you vulnerable and confused.

Azriel took another step closer, his voice gentle as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Don’t shut me out. Let’s talk about this—really talk. Give me a chance to show you that this bond isn’t something to be feared. It’s something that could be… everything.”

You stood there, trying to process everything Azriel had just told you. The confusion, the guilt, the realization that you had misunderstood everything—it all came crashing down at once. You looked away from Azriel, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to make sense of it all.

“Okay,” you finally muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Now I actually feel like a dumbass.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you cringed internally. But when you glanced back up at Azriel, you found him staring at you with wide eyes for a moment—before a warm, rich laugh escaped him. It was a sound you hadn’t expected, a sound that cut through the tension and made your own lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

Azriel shook his head, still chuckling softly. “You’re not a dumbass, Y/N. Just… someone who cares a lot about her friend.”

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the weight of the misunderstanding began to lift. But even with the air between you lightened, you couldn’t shake the lingering worry, the uncertainty of what this all meant.

“I just… I don’t know you that well,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, more hesitant. “And this bond… it’s a lot to take in. I was so worried about Elain’s feelings that I didn’t even stop to think about how I felt. About how to navigate this.”

Azriel’s expression softened further, and he took a careful step closer, making sure not to crowd you. “I understand. The bond is… overwhelming, especially when it comes out of nowhere. And I know we don’t know each other well yet, but that’s something we can work on. We don’t have to rush into anything, Y/N. We can take this one step at a time, if that’s what you need.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since the bond had snapped. There was no pressure in his eyes, no demand—just a quiet patience that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else, something warmer.

“But… what if this doesn’t work?” you asked, your voice small, the fear you had been trying to suppress finally finding its way out. “What if I can’t be what you need?”

Azriel’s eyes softened even more, and he shook his head gently. “Y/N, you don’t have to be anything but yourself. The bond doesn’t demand perfection—it’s just a connection, a starting point. We figure the rest out together.”

You swallowed, feeling the sincerity in his words. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but it was tempered now by something else—a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

“Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, but Azriel caught it nonetheless.

He smiled softly, his wings shifting slightly as if in relief. “Okay,” he echoed. “One step at a time.”

For a moment, you both stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, the bond humming faintly between you. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was something. And for the first time since the bond had snapped, you felt like maybe you could handle this—together.

Azriel extended his hand, not as a demand, but as an offer. “How about we start with something simple? A walk, maybe? Just to talk, get to know each other.”

You hesitated for a moment, the anxiety still lingering, but then you nodded slowly, reaching out to take his hand. His grip was warm, reassuring, and as his fingers closed around yours, you felt a little of that fear ease away.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “A walk sounds good.”

And as you both stepped out of the kitchen, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something worth taking a chance on.

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Epilogue - A New Dawn

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.1k

warning; mentions of death, fight.

notes; Hey so here is the last chapter of the story, i hope that you enjoyed it. It was something very new to me to write such story but i'm happy that some of you stayed until the end. I'm working on some one shots for the moment, much lighter than this story, my requests are also open for those who have ideas. See you soon and thank you again <333

here is the link for part 16

---

The first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. You stirred in the warmth of your bed, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. As you slowly blinked your eyes open, the first thing you saw was Azriel, lying beside you, his gaze already on you, filled with love and warmth.

“Hello, my love,” he whispered, his voice soft and tender as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

A smile spread across your lips as you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand on your cheek grounding you in the present, in this moment that was filled with peace and contentment. You reached out, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him close as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Good morning,” you murmured against his skin, your voice still thick with sleep but laced with happiness. You hugged him tighter, savoring the feeling of his strong arms wrapping around you in return, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

These were the moments you cherished most—the quiet, peaceful mornings where it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the world outside nothing more than a distant memory. It was a far cry from the life you had once lived, filled with turmoil and pain, but now… now, there was only love, only happiness.

After a few moments, you pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face. There was a softness in his gaze, a quiet joy that made your heart swell with love.

“I still can’t believe this is our life,” you whispered, your fingers gently brushing over his cheek. “That we’re here, together, after everything…”

Azriel’s smile deepened, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you close for a gentle, lingering kiss. “It’s our life, Y/N. Our home. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

You glanced around the room, taking in the space that had become your sanctuary, your haven. The apartment was different from the one you had once shared with Alex, the one filled with so many memories—both good and painful. This was a new place, a new beginning. The walls were painted a soft, calming shade, and the furniture was a mix of both your tastes—modern pieces blended with rustic touches that gave the space warmth and character.

It was your home, yours and Azriel’s, and every corner of it reflected the life you were building together.

The decision to move had been difficult, but ultimately necessary. You had wanted a fresh start, a place that wasn’t haunted by the ghosts of your past, a place where you and Azriel could build something new, something that was just yours. And here, in this apartment in the heart of Velaris, you had found that.

“Are you happy?” Azriel asked, his voice gentle as he searched your eyes, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips as you leaned into his touch. “I am. More than I ever thought I could be.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you close. “Good. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And you? Are you happy?”

He chuckled softly, his hand gently stroking your hair. “How could I not be? I have everything I’ve ever wanted, right here with you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over you. Two years had passed since that fateful night in the forest, since you had reclaimed your power and your life. So much had changed since then, but through it all, Azriel had been by your side, your constant, your anchor.

Becoming the emissary of the Night Court had been a natural progression. You had always been skilled in diplomacy, in navigating the complex web of relationships between the courts. And now, you used those skills to strengthen the Night Court’s position, to forge new alliances and maintain old ones. It was a role that suited you, that gave you purpose.

But even though you had taken on this new role, you hadn’t completely left behind the forge. Blacksmithing was still a part of you, a part of your soul. Now, it was more of a hobby, something you did when you needed to clear your mind or when inspiration struck. You had set up a small workshop in the apartment, where you would spend hours tinkering with new designs, creating weapons that were as much art as they were instruments of war.

It was a balance that brought you peace, a way to honor your past while embracing your future.

As you lay there in Azriel’s arms, you couldn’t help but think about how far you had come, how much you had grown. The pain of the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. You had found a way to move forward, to build a life filled with love and happiness.

Azriel shifted slightly, his hand tilting your chin up so that you were looking into his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

You smiled softly, your hand coming up to rest over his heart. “Just… everything. How lucky I am. How grateful I am to have you.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing over your lips before he leaned in to kiss you, slow and sweet. “I’m the lucky one,” he murmured against your lips.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “We’re both lucky, then.”

He pulled you closer, holding you tight as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, you knew that this was where you were meant to be—right here, in Azriel’s arms, in the home you had built together.

And no matter what the future held, you knew that you would face it together, with love, with strength, and with the unbreakable bond that had brought you both to this moment.

As the morning light grew brighter, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, a quiet contentment that filled your heart. This was your life now, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

The day passed peacefully, a gentle rhythm of tasks and small moments of joy that filled your new home with warmth. As evening approached, the anticipation of gathering with the Inner Circle brought a sense of excitement. The bond you had with Azriel’s family—the family you had become a part of—was stronger than ever. Tonight was just one of those nights where you could all come together, relax, and enjoy each other's company.

You dressed in something simple yet elegant, a deep blue dress that complemented the rich tones of Azriel’s favorite color. He smiled approvingly when he saw you, his eyes lingering with a mix of admiration and love. “You look stunning,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Thank you,” you replied, returning the affection with a gentle smile. “And you look as dashing as ever.”

Azriel, in his usual dark attire that fit him perfectly, offered you his arm, and together, you made your way through the winding streets of Velaris to the townhouse where the rest of the Inner Circle awaited. The stars were just beginning to appear in the sky, twinkling above like a promise of the good night ahead.

When you arrived, the townhouse was already filled with the familiar sounds of laughter and conversation. The scent of delicious food wafted through the air, mingling with the warmth and comfort that always radiated from this place.

As you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by Cassian’s booming voice. “There they are! Took you two long enough.”

You laughed, shaking your head as Cassian pulled you into a bear hug. “Good to see you too, Cassian,” you teased, patting his back before he released you.

Mor was next, her smile bright as she took your hands, squeezing them affectionately. “You look radiant, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re here. You have to tell me everything, how was the Summer Court, you have been there for two whole weeks. ”

“Of course haha. It’s good to be here,” you replied, returning her smile. Mor’s warmth and friendship had been a constant source of comfort over the years, and you cherished her for it.

Amren, ever the enigma, nodded to you from her place near the fireplace, her sharp gaze softened just enough to convey her approval. You nodded back, grateful for the bond you had formed with her—a bond built on mutual respect and understanding.

Rhysand was the last to greet you, his expression filled with genuine affection as he embraced you. “Welcome, Y/N. It’s not the same without you here.”

“Thank you, Rhys,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your heart.

The dinner that followed was filled with laughter, stories, and the easy camaraderie that had come to define your time with the Inner Circle. The food was delicious, as always, and the wine flowed freely as the conversation moved from topic to topic.

At one point, Cassian leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin on his face. “So, Y/N, how’s the emissary life treating you? Got any juicy tales of court intrigue to share?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s been interesting, to say the least. But I think you’ll have to wait for the next Night Court council meeting for the really juicy details.”

Cassian groaned, pretending to be disappointed. “You’re no fun.”

Mor, sitting beside him, elbowed him playfully. “Leave her alone, Cass. She’s already done enough, wrangling all those high lords and their egos.”

“I’m sure Y/N has some good stories,” Rhysand chimed in, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “After all, she’s met some rather interesting characters over the years.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, there have been a few. But I think the best story is how I managed to survive the chaos of this lot.”

Azriel squeezed your hand under the table, his smile softening as he looked at you. “You’ve done more than survive. You’ve thrived.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from the latest news in Prythian to the more personal, day-to-day happenings in Velaris. There was an ease to it, a sense of belonging that made you feel truly at home.

As the evening wore on, the group moved to the sitting room, where more wine was poured and the fire crackled warmly in the hearth. You found yourself nestled on the couch beside Azriel, his arm draped comfortably around your shoulders.

Rhysand raised his glass, his gaze sweeping over the room. “To family,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. “To the bonds we share, and to the future we’re building together.”

Everyone raised their glasses in a toast, echoing his words. “To family.”

You sipped your wine, feeling the truth of those words resonate deep within you. This was your family now—these incredible, powerful, and loving people who had welcomed you into their lives and hearts. And as you sat there, surrounded by laughter and warmth, you knew that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The night eventually wound down, and one by one, the members of the Inner Circle began to make their way home. Cassian and Mor were the first to leave, Cassian pulling you into another hug and whispering a teasing remark about not working too hard. Mor kissed your cheek, promising to visit you soon for some “much-needed girl time.”

Amren nodded to you as she departed, a rare but genuine smile playing on her lips. Rhysand was the last to see you off, his hand resting on your shoulder as he looked into your eyes.

“You’ve come a long way, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice filled with pride. “We’re lucky to have you with us.”

You smiled, feeling a lump in your throat as you nodded. “I’m lucky to have all of you.”

With that, you and Azriel made your way back to your apartment, the night air cool and refreshing as you walked through the quiet streets of Velaris. The city was bathed in moonlight, the stars twinkling above like a promise of all the good things still to come.

When you finally reached your home, you paused at the door, turning to look at Azriel. His expression was soft, filled with the same love and affection you had seen that morning.

“Ready to call it a night?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

You smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over you as you nodded. “Yes, let’s go home.”

—

The cemetery was quiet, the air filled with the faint scent of blooming flowers as spring finally began to take hold of the land. You walked slowly along the path, the familiar weight of the past pressing lightly on your shoulders. It had been a long time since you’d visited this place—too long, and the guilt of it lingered in your chest.

As you approached Alex’s grave, a sense of peace washed over you. The headstone was simple, yet elegant, adorned with a few weathered tokens left by you and others over the years. You knelt down, reaching out to gently brush away a few stray leaves that had settled on the stone.

“Hi, Alex,” you whispered, your voice soft as the memories flooded back. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I visited. Life has been… well, it’s been busy.”

You sat down, crossing your legs beneath you as you let the silence stretch between you and the grave. It felt good to be here, to talk to him, even if he couldn’t answer.

“I’ve been working as an emissary for the Night Court,” you began, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s been challenging, but I think I’m making a difference. I’ve visited nearly every court, negotiating, building relationships. I even went back to the Day Court recently. Helion still hasn’t given up on trying to recruit me, by the way.”

You chuckled softly, imagining how Alex would have laughed at that.

“The shop… it’s closed now. I still do some blacksmithing, but it’s more of a hobby than anything else. I think you’d understand why I needed to step away from it, why it was important to start fresh. Azriel and I have a new apartment in Velaris—our home. It’s a place where we can build something new, something just for us.”

You paused, your fingers idly tracing the grooves in the stone. “I miss you, Alex. I think about you all the time. There’s so much I wish you could have seen, so much I wish we could have done together. But I hope… I hope you’re at peace.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all that had been left unsaid. You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it down, determined to keep your voice steady.

“I love you,” you whispered, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I always will.”

As you sat there in the quiet, you felt a gentle touch on your elbow. You turned to see Azriel standing beside you, his expression soft and understanding. “It’s time to go,” he said gently, his voice filled with warmth. “We have dinner tonight, with everyone.”

You nodded, giving the grave one last lingering look. “I’ll be back soon, Alex,” you promised. “And I’ll bring you more stories.”

As you stood up, your eyes caught sight of something near the base of the headstone—a small, delicate flower, its petals a brilliant shade of blue, the same color as the flames of your power. It hadn’t been there before, and its sudden appearance felt like a sign, a gentle reminder that life goes on, that new beginnings are always possible, even after the coldest winters.

You smiled, a sense of calm settling over you as you took Azriel’s hand, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. Together, you turned and walked away from the grave, leaving behind the past but carrying its memory with you.

As you left the cemetery, the sky above was clear, the stars beginning to twinkle as evening approached. The world felt alive, vibrant, full of promise. And as you and Azriel made your way to the townhouse, ready to join your family for dinner, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be—moving forward, with love, with hope, and with the strength of those who had come before you.

The small blue flower by Alex’s grave swayed gently in the breeze, a symbol of the new life that spring had brought, a life that you would continue to cherish and honor, now and always.

---

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 16

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.1k

warning; mentions of death, fight.

notes; Helloooo, so last chapter until the epilogue :((( Honestly I never thought that people would actually enjoy whatever i could write but thank you guys so much for being here until the end of this story. I'm leaving you here to enjoy this part, see you soon for the epilogue, bisous bisous <333

here is the link for part 15 or epilogue

---

The sun was beginning to set on your last day in the Day Court, casting a warm golden light over the palace as you prepared to leave. The negotiations had been a success, and the alliance between the Night and Day Courts was now firmly in place. As you made your way through the opulent halls of Helion’s palace, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. This trip had been more than just a diplomatic mission; it had been a personal victory, a step forward in the new life you were building.

Before you could reach the exit, however, Helion himself appeared, his usual charming smile in place as he approached you.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his voice smooth as silk. “I see you’re about to depart. I wanted to catch you before you left.”

You smiled warmly at the High Lord, appreciating his hospitality and the successful outcome of your negotiations. “Thank you for everything, Helion. It’s been a productive and enjoyable visit.”

He chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in slightly. “I’m glad to hear it. And, of course, I must remind you that my previous offer still stands. There’s always a place for you here, as more than just an emissary.”

The mischievous tone in his voice was unmistakable, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head in amusement. Helion had made a similar proposition the last time you were here—an invitation to join his court as one of his partners, an offer that was as flattering as it was surprising.

“Helion,” you replied with a smile, “as tempting as your offer might be, I’m afraid I must decline once again. My place is in the Night Court.”

Helion’s grin widened, but there was no real disappointment in his eyes—only a fondness that spoke of genuine respect. “I had to try, didn’t I? But I suppose Azriel would have my head if I pursued it any further.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “He might indeed.”

With a final smile and a nod of farewell, you turned to leave the palace. As you made your way out, Azriel was waiting for you, his wings tucked neatly behind him, his expression curious.

“What was that about?” he asked as the two of you began walking toward the edge of the palace grounds, where you would take flight back to the Night Court.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering how to phrase it without making it awkward. Finally, you decided to be straightforward. “Helion… made an offer the last time I was here. He asked if I wanted to live in the Day Court and become one of his, um, partners.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. “He did?”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yes, he did. But I turned him down, obviously. My place is with you, Azriel, in the Night Court.”

A faint flush of possessiveness crossed Azriel’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a more relaxed expression as he nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Helion may be charming, but he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth of his words. The two of you took to the skies shortly after, Azriel’s strong wings carrying you both high above the Day Court, the landscape below shrinking as you gained altitude.

As you flew, the air grew cooler, and the sun dipped lower on the horizon. The journey was peaceful at first, the two of you flying side by side in comfortable silence. But as you neared the border between the Day and Night Courts, Azriel suggested taking a brief rest.

You landed in a small clearing, surrounded by tall trees and the distant sound of running water. The silence of the forest was a stark contrast to the opulence of Helion’s palace, but it was a welcome change. You both sat down on a fallen log, catching your breath and enjoying the quiet.

But the peace was shattered in an instant.

A sudden rustle in the trees caught your attention, and before you could react, an arrow whizzed through the air, narrowly missing your shoulder. You jerked back, adrenaline surging through you as Azriel’s wings flared protectively, his shadows immediately coiling around you.

“Get down!” Azriel barked, his voice sharp with command.

You dropped to the ground, your heart pounding as you scanned the trees for the source of the attack. Azriel was already moving, his shadows spreading out like tendrils, searching for the assailant. But the next arrow that came was aimed directly at Azriel, and he barely dodged it in time, the tip grazing his arm.

The sight of blood on Azriel’s skin sent a wave of fury through you. And then, you saw him—the figure emerging from the shadows of the trees, his bow drawn, his face twisted in a sneer that made your blood run cold.

It was him. The man who had killed Alex. The man who had shattered your world.

Recognition hit you like a physical blow, and the memories you had tried so hard to bury came rushing back—Alex’s lifeless body, the blood, the helplessness you had felt in that moment. But now, there was something else—a burning rage that ignited in your chest, fueling your resolve.

Azriel’s gaze snapped to you, his eyes filled with concern as he saw the recognition in your expression. “Y/N…?”

“He’s the one,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “He’s the one who killed Alex.”

Azriel’s expression hardened instantly, his shadows curling around him like living armor. “Stay behind me,” he commanded, his voice cold and sharp.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch. You had trained for years, honed your skills, and even without your powers, you were a force to be reckoned with. Ignoring his command, you drew your own blade, the familiar weight comforting in your hand.

The man who had killed Alex stepped forward from the shadows, his sneer growing as he saw the defiance in your eyes. He was taller and broader than you remembered, his presence exuding malice. His eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to you, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“So, the little blacksmith thinks she can take me on?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You were nothing then, and you’re nothing now.”

Rage flared in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay calm, to focus. “You took everything from me,” you said, your voice steady. “I won’t let you do it again.”

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Without warning, he lunged at you, his blade flashing in the dim light. You moved quickly, sidestepping his attack and bringing your own blade up to meet his. The clash of metal rang out through the clearing as your weapons collided, sparks flying.

Azriel was at your side in an instant, his own sword a blur as he parried an attack from another assailant. The two of you fought back to back, a seamless dance of steel and shadows as you defended each other. Despite the chaos, there was a strange rhythm to your movements, a sense of unity that made you stronger together.

But the man wasn’t finished. He pressed forward, his attacks relentless, each strike aimed to kill. You blocked, parried, and countered, your movements fluid but desperate. He was strong, stronger than you had anticipated, and each blow he landed sent a shockwave through your arms.

“Is this all you’ve got?” he taunted, his blade coming dangerously close to your throat.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

He snarled, his next attack a vicious swing that you barely managed to deflect. The force of it sent you stumbling back, your feet skidding on the forest floor. He saw his opening and lunged, his blade aimed straight for your heart.

But Azriel was faster. With a powerful beat of his wings, he knocked the man off balance, his sword slashing across his arm. The man cried out in pain, his attack faltering as blood spilled from the wound.

“You’re not alone,” Azriel said, his voice a low growl as he stood protectively in front of you. His shadows twisted and coiled around him, ready to strike at any moment.

But the man’s eyes glinted with something dark, something malicious. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, twisted dagger—its blade dark and dripping with a substance that made your blood run cold.

“Let’s see how you handle this,” he hissed, and with a swift motion, he hurled the dagger straight at you.

Time seemed to slow. You saw the dagger flying through the air, its deadly tip aimed directly at you. But before you could react, before you could even raise your blade to deflect it, Azriel was there.

With a burst of speed, he threw himself in front of you, his wings wrapping around you in a protective cocoon. The dagger struck him, the poisoned blade sinking deep into his side. Azriel gasped, the pain evident in his eyes, but he didn’t falter. He held you close, shielding you from further harm.

“Azriel!” you cried out, your voice filled with panic as you felt his grip tighten around you.

“I’m fine,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, though you could see the pain etched on his face.

But the man wasn’t done. He lunged forward, his sword raised to finish the job. You knew you couldn’t let him win—not after everything he had taken from you. With a surge of adrenaline, you broke free from Azriel’s protective embrace, your blade flashing as you met the man’s attack head-on.

The clash of metal echoed through the clearing as you fought with everything you had. The man’s strength was overwhelming, but you were driven by something more powerful—a need for justice, for vengeance, for closure. You fought with precision, every move calculated, every strike purposeful.

But then, with a sudden, brutal twist, the man disarmed you, sending your blade flying from your hand. He smiled, cruel and victorious, as he raised his sword to strike you down.

In that split second, everything seemed to slow. You saw the blade descending toward you, and you knew you couldn’t avoid it. But just as the sword was about to connect, something inside you shifted. The pain, the loss, the anger—all of it erupted into a single, overwhelming force.

Blue flames exploded from your body, engulfing the man in a wave of fire. He screamed, his sword clattering to the ground as he stumbled back, the flames consuming him. You felt the power surging through you, uncontrolled, untamed, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was finally being brought to justice.

Azriel, struggling to stay on his feet, watched in awe as the flames roared around you. Even in his weakened state, he could see that this was something different—something more than just the return of your powers.

But then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the flames flickered and died, leaving you standing there, gasping for breath. The man was gone, reduced to ash by the sheer force of your power.

You collapsed to your knees, the exhaustion hitting you like a tidal wave. Azriel was at your side in an instant, despite his own injuries, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close.

“It’s over,” he whispered, his voice shaking with relief. “It’s finally over.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. The weight of what had just happened, of what you had just done, was too much to bear. You buried your face in Azriel’s chest, letting the tears fall as he held you close, his wings encircling you protectively.

For a long time, neither of you moved. You just stayed there, holding onto each other as the night deepened around you, the stars above bearing silent witness to the end of your long and painful journey.

And as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that you were no longer the same person you had been when this journey began. You were stronger, more powerful, and ready to face whatever came next—together.

For now, though, you were safe. You were together. And that was enough.

The night was still and quiet, the fire you and Azriel had set crackling softly as you both slept under the canopy of stars. But something stirred deep within you, pulling you from the comfort of sleep, from the warmth of Azriel’s arms. You woke with a start, a strange sensation fluttering in your chest—an echo of the past, of a time when you were just a child, lost and frightened in the woods, when a light fell from the sky and changed everything.

The feeling was overwhelming, almost like a call, and you couldn’t ignore it. Slowly, you slipped out from under Azriel’s arm, careful not to wake him as you stood and made your way into the forest. The trees seemed to part for you, the path ahead illuminated by the soft glow of starlight filtering through the branches above. There was something different about the night, something almost magical. The stars, usually fixed in their places, appeared to be moving, guiding you toward something—toward someone.

Azriel stirred behind you, waking as he felt your absence. He sat up, his eyes searching for you in the darkness, his voice low and filled with concern. “Y/N? Where are you going?”

But you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your focus was entirely on the pull that was leading you deeper into the forest, a pull that felt familiar and yet strange, like a forgotten memory resurfacing after so many years. You moved forward, your feet carrying you with a purpose you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t resist.

Azriel got up and followed you, his shadows wrapping around him protectively as he trailed behind, his gaze fixed on your form moving through the trees. He didn’t call out to you again, sensing that whatever was happening was beyond his understanding, something deeply personal, something you needed to face on your own. But he was there, watching over you, ready to step in if you needed him.

The stars above continued to shift, forming patterns in the sky that seemed to guide you toward a clearing up ahead. And then you saw it—a soft, glowing light, just as you remembered it from that night so long ago. The same light that had once fallen from the sky, that had sought you out, asking for your help when you were just a scared child.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached it, your breath catching in your throat as the light grew brighter, more defined. You reached out a hand, trembling as your fingers brushed against the glowing form. And as you did, the light began to shift, to change, taking on a form that made your breath catch in your throat.

It was the form of a boy—no longer the small, curious light, but the figure of Alex. The sight of him, so familiar and yet so different, made your heart ache with a longing you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel since the day he died.

“Alex…” you whispered, your voice breaking as you took a step closer, your hand reaching out toward him.

The figure smiled softly, a look of deep affection in his eyes. “I never wanted to leave you, Nana.”

The sound of his voice, that old nickname, was enough to make tears well up in your eyes. You took another step, your fingers brushing against his cheek, but there was no warmth, only the soft glow of the light that had taken his shape.

“I tried to fight it,” Alex continued, his voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t want to leave your side, but… it was time. It was time for me to go, but I couldn’t leave without helping you one last time.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “What do you mean, Alex?”

He looked down, as if gathering his thoughts, before meeting your gaze again. “I knew you needed your powers back. I knew you needed to face the man who took everything from you, from us. I couldn’t fight him on my own, but I could lead him to you, to where you would find the strength to defeat him, to reclaim what was yours.”

The tears spilled over, and you reached out, as if you could hold him, as if you could bring him back to life with your touch. “I didn’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Alex… I’m so sorry…”

He shook his head, his expression softening with a sad smile. “Don’t be sorry, Nana. You gave me everything. You were my family, my home. I never wanted to leave you, but… it was time. And I’m glad I could see you one last time.”

You felt a sob rise in your throat, but you forced it down, not wanting to waste a single moment of this fleeting encounter. “I miss you so much,” you choked out, your hand still hovering near his face, wishing you could feel the warmth of his skin one last time.

“I know,” Alex replied, his voice gentle. “But you’re not alone, Nana. You have a new family now, people who love you, who will protect you. And you have Azriel. He’ll take care of you.”

At the mention of Azriel, you glanced over your shoulder, finding him standing just at the edge of the clearing, his expression unreadable as he watched the exchange. His presence was a comfort, a reminder that even in this surreal moment, you weren’t alone.

Alex’s figure began to flicker, the light growing fainter as he spoke again. “I’m proud of you, Nana. You’ve become everything I knew you could be. And now, it’s time for me to go. But I’ll always be with you… in here.” He placed a hand over your heart, a gesture you couldn’t feel, but the meaning was clear.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you whispered, “I love you, Alex.”

He smiled one last time, a look of peace in his eyes. “I love you too, Nana.”

And with that, the light that had taken his form began to fade, growing dimmer until it was nothing more than a soft glow in the air, and then… it was gone.

You stood there, staring at the empty space where he had been, your heart aching with both sorrow and a strange sense of closure. The forest was silent again, the stars above returning to their usual places in the sky, as if the moment had never happened.

But it had happened, and it had changed something deep within you.

Azriel stepped forward, his footsteps soft as he approached you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask for an explanation. Instead, he simply wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. You buried your face in his chest, the tears finally spilling over as you let yourself grieve, let yourself feel the loss and the love and the bittersweet relief that Alex was at peace.

Azriel held you close, his presence steady and reassuring as you cried, his hands soothing as they ran through your hair. He didn’t ask for details, didn’t press you for answers. He simply let you feel, let you mourn, and when the tears finally slowed, he whispered softly, “I’m here, Y/N. I’m here.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your voice shaky but resolute. “I know… and I’m so grateful for that.”

Azriel wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, his gaze filled with a deep, unwavering love. “You’re not alone, and you never will be. I promise.”

With a final glance at the spot where Alex had stood, you took a deep breath, finding strength in Azriel’s words, in his embrace. You knew that the pain would always be there, a scar on your heart, but you also knew that you had the strength to move forward, to carry on.

As you rested in Azriel's arms, finding solace in his warmth, something unexpected began to happen. Your hair, which had been dampened by the night’s dew and your tears, suddenly lifted, as if caught in an invisible breeze. You both froze, eyes wide with surprise as small, ethereal flames—blue and flickering like the softest candlelight—began to emerge from your skin, dancing along your arms and shoulders.

The blue fire, your fire, was back.

Azriel looked down at you, awe and concern mingling in his expression. “Y/N… your powers…”

You nodded, barely able to believe it yourself. You had felt this once before, long ago when you were just a child, when that mysterious light had first found you and changed your life. And now, after everything you had lost and regained, the power was returning, the flames of the phoenix rekindling within you.

The realization hit you like a wave, bringing with it a sense of clarity and purpose. You knew what this meant, knew what needed to happen next.

Without a word, you reached out and grabbed Azriel’s hand, your grip firm yet gentle. “Let’s go,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet determination. “Let’s fly together.”

Azriel looked at you, confusion flickering in his eyes, but there was also trust—complete and unwavering trust. He nodded, his wings flexing in readiness, though he still didn’t fully understand what was happening.

But then, as if in response to your unspoken command, the blue flames on your body flared brighter, spreading out from your back in a sudden, powerful surge. They formed into wings—majestic, blazing wings of blue fire that extended behind you, their glow illuminating the dark forest around you. They were the wings of the phoenix, a symbol of rebirth, of power reclaimed.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the transformation, the sight of you standing there, your flames burning bright, filling him with a mixture of awe and pride. You weren’t just Y/N anymore—you were something more, something incredible.

With a powerful beat of your flaming wings, you lifted off the ground, rising into the night sky. Azriel followed instantly, his powerful Illyrian wings carrying him up to meet you, his shadows swirling around him protectively. The two of you soared higher and higher, leaving the forest below, until you were both surrounded by nothing but the endless night and the stars that watched over you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply flew, side by side, your flames and his shadows mingling in the cool air. The world below seemed distant, the troubles and sorrows that had weighed you down now far behind. Up here, it was just the two of you, free and unburdened.

Azriel looked over at you, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of you in your full power, your flames glowing with an ethereal beauty that took his breath away. “You’re… incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration and love.

You turned to him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you reached out, your hand finding his in the darkness. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Az.”

He squeezed your hand, his touch grounding you even as you soared through the sky. “You’ve always had this power, Y/N. I’m just glad I get to see you embrace it.”

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth that went beyond the fire burning in your veins. The bond between you thrummed with a quiet, deep connection, a love that was stronger than any magic.

The two of you flew together, circling through the sky, your wings creating trails of fire and shadow that intertwined, dancing across the stars. It was a moment of pure freedom, a release from all the pain and hardship you had endured. Up here, in the night sky, with Azriel by your side, you felt truly alive, truly yourself.

After a while, you slowed, hovering in the air as you looked out over the horizon. The stars seemed to shine brighter, their light reflecting off the blue flames of your wings. You turned to Azriel, your heart full, your voice soft as you spoke.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes locked with his. “For everything.”

Azriel smiled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “I’m with you, always. No matter what.”

With a final, powerful beat of your wings, you soared higher, Azriel right beside you, your hearts beating in unison as you flew together into the night, leaving the past behind and embracing the future that awaited you both.

The night was yours, and as you flew together, flames and shadows intertwined, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together.

---

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 15

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 7.2k

warning; smut :)))

notes; Hey everyone, I hope that you have enjoyed the story so far. Unfortunately we are getting close to the end, the next part is the last one before the epilogue of the story :(((( I really love reading your comments so please do not hesitate to write literally anything ! I was also wondering if you would enjoy a bonus part, taking place when Feyre and her sisters are in the night court ( so like 200 year after the story) ? bisous bisous <333

here is the link for part 14 or part 16

---

Cassian lounged on one of the sofas in the Townhouse living room, idly swirling a glass of whiskey as he stared at the ceiling. He sighed heavily, his wings draped over the back of the couch, as he glanced over at Mor, who was curled up in a chair with a book.

“Well,” Cassian began, a smirk playing on his lips, “it’s been three weeks, I think.”

Mor looked up from her book, raising an eyebrow. “Three weeks since what?”

Cassian chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “Three weeks since Azriel vanished into Y/N’s apartment and hasn’t shown his face around here.”

Mor rolled her eyes, setting her book down on the arm of the chair. “When I told Az not to come home, I didn’t think he would take it that seriously.”

Cassian laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the room. “You know our dear brother, Mor. When it comes to Y/N, he’s always been a bit… intense.”

Mor shook her head, but there was a fond smile on her lips. “I think it’s time we remind him that he’s not a prisoner in her apartment. What do you say we go pay them a visit?”

Cassian grinned, setting his glass down on the table. “I’m in. Let’s go rescue them from their self-imposed isolation.”

With that, they both stood up and made their way out of the Townhouse, the cool air of Velaris refreshing after the warmth of the living room. As they approached your apartment, Cassian exchanged a knowing glance with Mor, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Cassian knocked on the door, a little louder than necessary, and the two of them waited. There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open, revealing you standing there in a nightgown that looked like it had seen better days. Your hair was tousled, and your neck was covered in hickeys, evidence of the past few weeks spent in Azriel’s company.

“Hello, everyone,” you greeted them, your voice a little groggy from sleep.

Cassian’s eyes widened, and he let out a bark of laughter. “It’s been three weeks, guys. Three weeks!”

Before you could respond, Azriel appeared behind you, looking just as disheveled, if not more so. He was wearing nothing but his underwear, his chest and neck also adorned with a series of hickeys. His expression was a mix of irritation and exhaustion as he took in the sight of Mor and Cassian standing at the door.

Azriel scowled at Cassian. “And it’s not enough,” he grumbled, before reaching past you and slamming the door shut in their faces.

Cassian and Mor burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support. Inside, they could hear you scolding Azriel, your voice muffled but clearly annoyed.

“Azriel, get back here!” you snapped, your tone exasperated.

Cassian shook his head, still chuckling. “Azriel needs to stop being so horny all the time.”

The door opened again, and you stood there with an exasperated expression, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry about that,” you said, stepping aside to let them in. “Come on in.”

Cassian grinned as he entered, opening his arms to hug you. “It’s good to see you, Y/N—”

Before he could finish, Azriel reappeared, his eyes narrowed as he saw Cassian approaching you. Without warning, he delivered a swift, powerful punch to Cassian’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

“Hands off,” Azriel growled, his voice deadly serious, his eyes flashing with a protective fury that left no room for doubt—he wasn’t joking.

Cassian rubbed his jaw, wincing at the impact, but his eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and a bit of respect. “Alright, alright, Az. Point taken.”

You stepped between them, placing a hand on Azriel’s chest as you shot him a stern look. “Az, that’s enough. He’s just being friendly.”

Azriel’s gaze softened slightly as he looked down at you, his jaw still clenched. “He needs to know his place.”

Mor sighed, stepping forward to place a hand on Cassian’s arm. “Let’s not start a fight in the middle of Y/N’s living room, okay?”

You shook your head, laughing at the scene in front of you. “Az, go put some pants on,” you said, pushing him gently towards the bedroom.

Azriel grumbled something under his breath but complied, disappearing down the hallway to find something more appropriate to wear. Meanwhile, you led Mor and Cassian into the living room, where you started preparing tea for everyone.

As the water boiled, Mor leaned against the counter, watching you with an amused expression. “So, I take it things have been… intense?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You could say that. But it’s been good. Really good.”

Cassian, now nursing a sore jaw from Azriel’s earlier punch, grinned as he sat down at the table. “It’s good to see you both so happy. Even if Az has apparently decided to take his obsession with you to a whole new level.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a warmth in your expression. “He’s just… dedicated.”

Mor smirked. “That’s one way to put it.”

Azriel returned, now dressed in a pair of pants, though his protective stance was still evident as he sat down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. His eyes flicked over to Cassian, making sure there were no lingering thoughts of challenging his claim.

The four of you spent the next hour catching up, the tension between Azriel and Cassian easing into a playful, if still slightly cautious, banter. Mor teased you both relentlessly, but there was an underlying warmth in her words that made it clear she was happy for you.

As you all sipped your tea, the conversation flowed easily, laughter filling the room. And though Azriel’s protective nature was still on full display, it was clear that he was content, happy even, to share this part of his life with the people he cared about most.

As you leaned into his side, feeling the warmth of his presence, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, friendship, and a healthy dose of Azriel’s fierce loyalty.

Life slowly began to return to a semblance of normalcy, or at least as normal as it could be after the whirlwind of emotions and events that had taken place over the past few weeks. You found yourself diving more deeply into your work with Rhysand, focusing on strengthening the relationships between the Night Court and the other courts, as well as various factions across the continent. It was a role that came naturally to you, given your extensive network and experience, and it allowed you to channel your energy into something productive, something that helped you heal.

Every morning, you would rise early and head to the Townhouse or the House of Wind, where Rhysand would be waiting with a new project or a new challenge. The two of you would pour over maps, letters, and contracts, discussing strategies and potential alliances. You found solace in the work, in the familiar rhythms of negotiation and diplomacy. It was a way to anchor yourself, to find purpose in the aftermath of loss.

But the smithy—the heart of your old life—remained cold and silent. The forge, once alive with the heat of fire and the rhythmic clang of metal on metal, now stood still. The tools were neatly arranged, untouched, waiting for the day when you would be ready to pick them up again. The weapons that lined the walls were dusted and polished, but they hung there like silent sentinels, reminders of a time when the shop was bustling with activity, with Alexander’s laughter echoing through the space.

You couldn’t bring yourself to light the forge just yet. The memories of Alex and Sellan were too fresh, too raw. The thought of stepping into the workshop without them there, without their voices and their presence, was more than you could bear. So, the smithy remained closed, its windows darkened, the door locked. A sign hung outside, simple and straightforward: “Closed for now. Come back soon.”

The villagers of Velaris understood, of course. Many had known Alex and had been touched by his enthusiasm and charm. They respected your need for time, for space, and they waited patiently for the day when the forge would come alive again.

In the meantime, your apartment became your sanctuary. It was where you spent your evenings, often in the company of Azriel. He had practically moved in, spending all of his nights and any free time he had with you. His presence was a comfort, a constant reminder that you were not alone. He had become your anchor, the one who held you together when the grief threatened to pull you under.

Azriel was careful not to push you, not to force you into anything you weren’t ready for. He was there when you needed him, whether it was for a quiet evening of reading by the fire, a late-night walk along the Sidra, or simply holding you as you drifted off to sleep. He seemed to understand that you needed time to heal, that the process couldn’t be rushed.

But even with the quiet comfort of Azriel’s presence, there were moments when the weight of your grief felt too heavy to bear. The nights were the hardest. Despite Azriel’s warmth beside you, there were times when you would wake in the middle of the night, your heart aching with the loss of Alex, with the memories of the life you had once led.

On those nights, Azriel would wake with you, sensing your distress even in his sleep. He would pull you close, his wings wrapping around you like a shield, and he would murmur words of comfort, his voice a soothing balm against the pain. In those moments, you would cling to him, finding strength in his unwavering support.

The apartment itself had undergone a transformation. Where once it had been a place of work and rest, it was now a place of healing. You had cleared out much of the old clutter, making space for new memories, new beginnings. The walls, once adorned with the tools of your trade, now held framed maps of the courts, gifts from Rhysand and Mor as a way of marking your new role in the Night Court’s diplomacy. The swords that had once been your pride and joy were now carefully arranged in a display case, a tribute to the craft that you still loved, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to practice it just yet.

And then there were the small touches of Azriel’s presence—his favorite books on your shelves, his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his boots by the door. It was as if he had always been there, a natural extension of your life, of your home.

The two of you settled into a routine, one that was both comforting and new. Azriel would leave early in the mornings for his duties as the Night Court’s spymaster, but he would always return to you in the evenings, bringing with him a quiet strength that helped you through the day. You would cook dinner together, often laughing at his attempts to assist in the kitchen, and then spend the rest of the night curled up together, talking about your day, sharing stories from the past, or simply enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Despite the new roles and the changes in your life, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The smithy, cold and quiet, was a constant reminder of the life you had left behind, of the boy who had been taken from you too soon. You knew that one day, you would have to face it, to open the doors and light the forge once more. But for now, you allowed yourself the time to grieve, to heal, and to find your way back to the craft that had once brought you so much joy.

And through it all, Azriel was there, a steady presence in the storm, his love for you unwavering. You knew that no matter how long it took, he would be by your side, helping you find your way back to the light.

——

You sat in the meeting room at the House of Wind, the soft murmur of conversation filling the space as you gathered with Rhysand and some members of the Inner Circle. The view from the large windows was breathtaking, the rolling mountains and the sparkling Sidra river below a constant reminder of the beauty and power of the Night Court. But today, your focus was on the task at hand—the next step in your work to strengthen the alliances between the courts.

For the past few weeks, you had been exchanging letters with Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court. The two of you had been discussing potential alliances, trade agreements, and exchanges of knowledge that could benefit both courts. Helion had always been a keen negotiator, and your conversations had been both challenging and rewarding, the two of you sparring with words as you hammered out the details of a possible agreement.

Today, you were to discuss the final details with Rhysand and the others before making your way to Helion’s court to solidify the arrangement. As you sipped your tea, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. This was a significant step, not just for the Night Court, but for you personally. It was your first major diplomatic mission since you had taken on this role, and you were determined to see it through successfully.

Rhysand, seated at the head of the table, smiled warmly at you as he called the meeting to order. “Y/N, I want to start by saying how impressed we all are with the work you’ve done so far. Helion is not an easy man to negotiate with, but you’ve managed to make remarkable progress. I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re grateful to have you on our side.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the others—Mor, Cassian, and Amren—all of whom had been kept in the loop about your ongoing discussions with Helion.

“Thank you, Rhys,” you replied, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “But it’s not over yet. Helion is… well, he’s Helion. He’s charming and brilliant, but he’s also as stubborn as they come. We’ve agreed on most of the terms, but I’ll need to be there in person to finalize everything.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze fixed on you. “And you’re prepared for that? Helion can be… persuasive when he wants to be.”

You nodded, understanding the weight behind her words. Helion’s reputation as a flirt was well-known, but you had handled his charm well enough during your correspondence. “I’m ready. We’ve built a good rapport, and I’m confident we can come to an agreement that benefits both courts.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “And what exactly are we looking at in terms of this alliance? What’s Helion bringing to the table?”

You took a deep breath, ready to present the details. “Helion has proposed a mutual exchange of resources and knowledge. The Day Court is known for its vast libraries and magical artifacts, some of which they’re willing to share in exchange for our expertise in certain areas—specifically, some of the innovations we’ve developed in the Night Court. There’s also talk of a joint military training exercise between our forces and theirs, which could help strengthen both our defenses.”

Cassian nodded, his expression thoughtful. “A joint training exercise could be beneficial, especially with the state of things between the other courts. We could learn a lot from each other.”

Mor chimed in, a knowing smile on her face. “And let’s not forget the cultural exchange. Helion has expressed interest in visiting more often, perhaps even hosting some of our artists and scholars in his court.”

You nodded. “Exactly. It’s not just about trade and military might—it’s about fostering a deeper connection between our people. That’s something Helion values as much as we do.”

Rhysand steepled his fingers, his expression one of deep consideration. “It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases, Y/N. But I want to make sure you’re comfortable with this. Helion can be unpredictable, and we don’t want to put you in a situation where you feel out of your depth.”

You met Rhysand’s gaze, appreciating his concern. “I’m confident, Rhys. I’ve been through worse negotiations in my time, and I know how to handle Helion. Besides, this is important—for both our courts. I’m ready.”

There was a moment of silence as Rhysand considered your words. Finally, he nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Very well. We’ll make the necessary arrangements for your trip to the Day Court. And don’t worry—you’ll have all the support you need.”

Azriel, who had been sitting quietly beside you, his presence a comforting anchor throughout the meeting, finally spoke up. “I’ll accompany Y/N to the Day Court. It’s best if she has someone there who knows how to navigate Helion’s court, and I can ensure her safety.”

You shot Azriel a grateful look, knowing that his presence would not only offer protection but also give you an added layer of confidence. “Thank you, Az. I’d appreciate that.”

Rhysand’s smile widened slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly approving of Azriel’s suggestion. “Perfect. You’ll both leave in a few days, once the final details are settled.”

As the meeting wrapped up, the others began discussing the logistical aspects of the trip—travel plans, security measures, and what to expect once you arrived at the Day Court. But your mind was already turning to the task ahead, to the negotiations that awaited you.

When the meeting finally concluded, Rhysand placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious. “You’ve got this, Y/N. I have complete faith in you. Helion will find that the Night Court doesn’t back down easily.”

You smiled, the weight of the responsibility settling comfortably on your shoulders. “I won’t let you down, Rhys. We’ll make this alliance happen.”

With that, you and Azriel left the House of Wind, ready to prepare for your journey to the Day Court. As you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation—a feeling that this trip would mark a new chapter in your life, one where you were no longer just the blacksmith who had lost so much, but someone who was ready to forge new paths, to create new alliances, and to find strength in the bonds you were building.

The morning of your departure was crisp and clear, the kind of day that promised good weather for travel. You stood outside the House of Wind, waiting for Azriel to join you. The anticipation of the journey ahead filled you with a mix of excitement and a touch of nervousness. This was your first diplomatic mission in your new role, and though you were confident in your abilities, there was always an element of the unknown when dealing with someone as formidable as Helion.

Azriel arrived shortly, dressed in his usual black attire, his wings tucked neatly behind him. His presence was reassuring, a steady anchor amidst the swirling thoughts in your mind. He carried your travel pack easily, slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

“Ready?” he asked, his gaze softening as it met yours.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a final glance at the House of Wind, the two of you took to the skies, Azriel’s powerful wings beating steadily as he carried you across the lands toward the Day Court. The flight was long, but the scenery was breathtaking—rolling hills, dense forests, and sparkling rivers spread out beneath you, a patchwork of Prythian’s diverse landscapes.

As you neared the borders of the Day Court, the air grew warmer, the sunlight more intense. The transition between courts was marked by a change in the landscape, with the lush green of the Night Court giving way to the golden fields and vibrant flowers that characterized Helion’s domain. The Day Court was known for its perpetual sunshine, a stark contrast to the shadows and mystery of the Night Court.

When you finally arrived, the grandeur of the Day Court’s palace took your breath away. It was a sprawling structure of gleaming white marble, with towering columns and wide terraces that overlooked gardens bursting with color. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sound of laughter and music drifted from the open windows. It was a place of light and life, a perfect reflection of the High Lord who ruled it.

Azriel landed gracefully on one of the palace’s terraces, setting you down gently before folding his wings behind him. A pair of Day Court guards approached, their golden armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Lady Y/N, Lord Azriel,” one of the guards said with a respectful bow. “Lord Helion is expecting you. Please, follow us.”

You exchanged a glance with Azriel before following the guards into the palace. The interior was just as magnificent as the exterior, with sunlight streaming through large windows, casting intricate patterns on the polished floors. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of history and legend, and the air was filled with the scent of citrus and jasmine.

The guards led you to a grand hall where Helion was waiting, seated on a large, ornate chair that was less a throne and more a comfortable seat for a man who enjoyed his luxuries. He rose as you entered, a broad smile spreading across his handsome face.

“Y/N, Azriel,” Helion greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. “It’s a pleasure to see you both. Welcome to the Day Court.”

You inclined your head in respect, but before you could say anything, Helion was already crossing the room with that easy, confident stride of his. He took your hands in his, his golden eyes shining with genuine warmth. “Y/N, it feels oddly right seeing you here as an emissary rather than delivering weapons. Although, I must say, your craftsmanship still impresses me every time I hold one of your creations.”

You smiled, appreciating the compliment and the familiarity. “Thank you, Helion. It’s a different role, but one I’m finding I enjoy more than I expected.”

Helion’s smile widened, and he gestured for you and Azriel to sit. “Indeed. You seem well-suited to it. I always knew there was more to you than just a talented blacksmith.”

Azriel, ever vigilant, took a seat beside you, his gaze never wavering from Helion. The High Lord of the Day Court seemed to notice Azriel’s protective demeanor, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, but he said nothing of it.

The negotiations that followed were intense but cordial. Helion was every bit the shrewd negotiator you had expected, his mind sharp as he navigated the terms of the proposed alliance. You discussed the mutual exchange of resources, with Helion offering access to the Day Court’s extensive libraries and magical artifacts in exchange for some of the Night Court’s innovations and expertise.

The joint military training exercises were also a point of discussion, with Helion expressing interest in strengthening the ties between your forces. He saw the benefit of learning from each other, particularly in a time when the other courts were constantly shifting their alliances and power dynamics.

“You’ll find that the Day Court’s warriors are formidable,” Helion said with a glint in his eye. “But there’s always room for improvement. I believe our forces could learn much from each other.”

Cassian’s earlier thoughts echoed in your mind as you nodded. “I agree. A strong alliance between our courts, both militarily and culturally, would benefit us all.”

The conversation then shifted to the cultural exchange, with Helion suggesting visits between the courts’ scholars, artists, and musicians. He seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of bringing more art and culture into his court, and the idea of fostering deeper connections between your people resonated with him.

“We have much to offer each other,” Helion mused, leaning back in his chair. “Not just in terms of knowledge and power, but in understanding and friendship. That’s something we can’t put a price on.”

As the day wore on, the negotiations continued, with both sides making concessions and adjustments. Helion was a skilled negotiator, but so were you, and by the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, you felt confident that you had laid the groundwork for a strong and mutually beneficial alliance.

Helion stood, signaling the end of the formal discussions. “I believe we’ve made excellent progress today, Y/N. We’ll finalize the details tomorrow, but for now, I’d like to invite you both to join me for dinner. We can continue our discussions in a more relaxed setting.”

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, who gave you a small nod. “We’d be honored, Lord Helion,” you replied.

Helion’s smile was genuine as he led you both toward a dining hall, where a feast had been prepared. The atmosphere was lighter, the tension of the negotiations giving way to a more casual and friendly tone. Helion was a gracious host, ensuring that you and Azriel were comfortable and well taken care of.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself enjoying Helion’s company more than you had anticipated. He was charming, yes, but there was also a depth to him, a genuine interest in building something lasting between your courts. The more you spoke with him, the more you realized that this alliance was not just a matter of convenience, but a step toward something greater—a bond that could bring lasting peace and prosperity to both the Night and Day Courts.

As the night drew to a close, Helion raised his glass in a toast. “To new beginnings,” he said, his gaze lingering on you. “May this be the start of a fruitful partnership between our courts.”

You raised your glass in return, feeling a sense of accomplishment and hope for the future. “To new beginnings,” you echoed, your voice firm with conviction.

The night had settled peacefully over the Day Court, and you and Azriel found yourselves in the room Helion had graciously provided for your stay. The space was luxurious yet comfortable, with a large bed draped in soft linens and a balcony that offered a breathtaking view of the golden fields and the distant, twinkling lights of the Day Court’s palace grounds.

You stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing as you took in the view. The air was warm, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and citrus. The stars above were bright, unobstructed by clouds, and the moon cast a silver glow over the landscape.

Azriel joined you, his presence quiet and calming as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his side. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both admired the serene beauty of the night.

“It’s beautiful here,” you murmured, your voice soft in the stillness. “So different from the Night Court, but beautiful in its own way.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze sweeping over the horizon. “It is. Helion’s court has its own kind of magic, a warmth and light that’s unique. But…” He paused, glancing down at you with a small smile. “I think I still prefer the shadows and stars of our home.”

You smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. “There’s something about the Night Court that feels… like home. Even after all this time.”

Azriel’s hand gently caressed your back, his touch soothing. “It is home. For both of us.”

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the peaceful night. The events of the day—the negotiations, the formalities—seemed distant now, as if they belonged to another world. Here, on this balcony, it was just the two of you, away from the pressures and responsibilities that came with your roles.

After a few moments, Azriel broke the silence. “You handled today exceptionally well, Y/N. Helion’s not an easy person to negotiate with, but you held your own.”

You turned your head slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Az. I have to admit, it was challenging, but… it felt good. It felt like I was doing something important, something that mattered.”

He nodded, his gaze filled with admiration. “You were. And you did it with such grace and strength. I’m proud of you.”

The sincerity in his voice warmed your heart, and you reached up to place a hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “I couldn’t have done it without you by my side.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the male who had become such an integral part of your life. “I know. And I’m grateful for that.”

Another comfortable silence settled between you, the two of you simply basking in the tranquility of the moment. The bond between you thrummed with a quiet contentment, a reminder of the connection you shared, one that went beyond words or actions.

After a while, you turned to face Azriel fully, your hands resting on his chest as you looked up at him. “Do you ever think about the future, Az? About what it might hold for us?”

He looked down at you, his expression thoughtful. “I do. More than I ever used to.”

“And?” you prompted, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“And I see us together,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I see us building a life together, one where we’re both happy, where we continue to support each other and face whatever challenges come our way.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, and you found yourself leaning up to kiss him softly. “That’s exactly what I see too,” you whispered against his lips.

Azriel smiled against your mouth before deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up to cup your face. The kiss was tender, filled with love and promise, a reflection of the bond you shared. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but the contentment in your hearts was undeniable.

“Let’s go inside,” you suggested, your voice soft as you took his hand.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you both, the atmosphere shifted, thickening with anticipation. The quiet intimacy of the room, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, only served to heighten the tension that had been building between you all evening. You could feel the heat radiating from Azriel as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

His eyes, usually calm and calculating, were dark with desire as they locked onto yours. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t need words to respond. The way you reached for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, said everything you needed to say. With a swift movement, you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a desperate need that had been simmering under the surface, now unleashed.

Azriel’s hands found your waist, tugging you against him as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between your bodies. The kiss deepened, grew hungrier, more insistent, as if you both were starved for each other. You could feel the hard planes of his chest beneath your fingers as you slid them under his shirt, craving the feel of his skin.

He broke the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. The sight of him, all toned muscle and shadow-kissed skin, made your breath hitch. Before you could fully take him in, his lips were on yours again, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive need.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that belied the fire burning in his eyes. He followed you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone. Every brush of his lips against your skin sent sparks of pleasure through you, making you arch into him. He laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered over you, his body heat radiating against your skin. The look in his eyes was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered, his voice rough as he leaned down to kiss along your jawline, trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck.

You gasped softly at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. “I think I’m starting to get the idea.”

Azriel’s hands were everywhere—pushing up your shirt, skimming over your bare skin, as he made quick work of undressing you. Soon, your clothes joined his on the floor, leaving you both bare to each other, every inch of skin tingling with anticipation.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes devouring every inch of you. He hovered above you, his hands framing your face as he kissed you deeply, passionately, his body pressing you down into the soft bed. The feel of him against you, hard and ready, made you ache with need.

Your hands roamed over his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the scars that marked his skin, each one telling a story of battles fought and won. But right now, all that mattered was this moment, the feel of him, the way he made you feel—desired, cherished, needed.

Azriel’s lips found yours again, his kiss searing and demanding. He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

You gasped as his fingers brushed between your thighs, teasing but not giving you what you desperately craved. “You, Azriel. I want you.”

His eyes darkened with a feral hunger at your words, and with a groan, he positioned himself at your entrance. The anticipation made your heart race, your body tense with need.

Azriel entered you slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch of him. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he filled you completely, making you feel whole in a way you hadn’t even realized you needed. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as you arched up to meet him, craving more.

He started moving, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you dizzy with pleasure. Each thrust was deep, controlled, sending waves of sensation through your entire body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing more, needing everything he could give.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. But you could feel it—the tension coiling within him, the same tension that was building within you, ready to snap at any moment.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you pulled him down for a kiss. It was a messy, desperate kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. His thrusts became harder, faster, as if he was losing himself in you, in the sensation, in the bond that tied you together.

“Azriel,” you gasped, your voice a breathless plea as you felt your climax approaching, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. “I’m close…”

“Me too,” he rasped, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you with a fierce, unrelenting need.

The tension snapped, and your climax washed over you in a wave of pleasure so intense it left you trembling. You cried out his name, your body clenching around him as you rode out the aftershocks of your release.

Azriel followed you over the edge moments later, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding through him. He held you close, his body shuddering against yours as he found his own pleasure in you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The only sounds were your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts, beating in sync. Azriel stayed buried inside you, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

When he finally moved, it was to kiss you again—soft, tender, filled with all the love he had for you. He rolled to his side, pulling you with him so that you were curled against his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his fingers brushing through your hair.

You nodded, feeling a contentment settle over you as you snuggled closer to him. “I’m perfect, Az.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest as you looked up at him, seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so?”

The room was still filled with the heady scent of sex, the warmth of your shared pleasure lingering in the air as you lay curled up against Azriel’s chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, a satisfied hum vibrating from him as he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. The bond between you thrummed with a deep sense of contentment, but beneath it, there was still a simmering heat, a desire that hadn’t quite been quenched.

You felt it too—a restless need that made you shift against him, your skin tingling with anticipation. Azriel must have sensed the change in you, because his fingers stilled, and he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “What are you thinking?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pushed yourself up, straddling his hips as you looked down at him, a wicked smile playing on your lips. The way his eyes darkened in response, the way his hands automatically came to rest on your thighs, told you everything you needed to know—he wanted this as much as you did.

Slowly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling his length harden beneath you as you moved. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Azriel’s grip on your thighs tightened, his gaze locked on yours, a silent plea for more.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a teasing kiss. “Then I guess I’ll just have to make it worth it,” you whispered against his mouth.

With that, you reached between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance. The sensation of him pressing against you, hard and ready, made your breath hitch, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a little more, rubbing the head of his cock against your wetness, making him groan in frustration.

“Y/N…” he warned, his voice strained as he fought to keep control.

You smiled, a little triumphant, before you finally sank down onto him, taking him in inch by inch. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you so completely, made your head spin with pleasure. You moaned, your hands braced against his chest as you took a moment to adjust to the fullness of him inside you.

Azriel’s hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to hold himself still, letting you set the pace. But you could feel the tension in him, the way he was struggling not to thrust up into you, to let you take your time. It was heady, knowing how much control you had in this moment, and it only fueled your desire.

Slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through both of you. Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his head falling back against the pillows as a low groan rumbled from his chest.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, his voice tight with restraint as he let you ride him at your own pace. “Gods, Y/N…”

You smiled at the praise, the sound of his voice, the way he looked beneath you—completely undone—making you feel powerful, beautiful, desired. You leaned forward, pressing your hands against his chest for leverage as you began to move faster, the friction between your bodies sparking something wild and uncontrollable within you.

Azriel’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his control slipping as he started to meet your movements with upward thrusts of his own. The change in angle made him hit deeper, harder, and you gasped at the intense pleasure that radiated through you with each thrust.

Your rhythm grew faster, more desperate, as you chased the pleasure building inside you. The feeling of Azriel beneath you, his body strong and solid, his cock filling you so perfectly, was almost too much to bear. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Azriel opened his eyes, the dark intensity in his gaze locking onto yours as he thrust up into you, meeting your movements with a ferocity that made you cry out his name. “Y/N… I’m so close.”

You gasped, your movements becoming erratic as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of release. The tension inside you snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cried out, your nails digging into Azriel’s chest.

Azriel followed you over the edge, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he found his release, his hands gripping you tightly as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you with his warmth.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts in the quiet aftermath. You collapsed against Azriel’s chest, both of you spent and sated, the bond between you humming with contentment.

Azriel wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both caught your breath. The connection between you felt deeper, more intimate, after what you’d just shared, and as you lay there in the quiet of the night, you couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your lips.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness. “And I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, savoring the warmth and comfort of being together. And as you drifted off to sleep in Azriel’s arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that was as strong as the night itself.

---

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 14

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 6.5k

warning; smut :)))

notes; Hey everyone, we are getting close to the end of the story, I'm glad that you guys are enjoying it. I love reading your comments <33 So tbh this is my first time writing this kind for "hum hum" content... So I really hope that you will enjoy this chapter ;))

here is the link for part 13 or part 15

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Azriel stepped into the Town House, his mind still spinning from the confrontation with you. The door closed quietly behind him, but the weight of the conversation lingered heavily on his shoulders. He had hoped for a different outcome, but now he was left wondering if he had made the worst mistake of his life.

As he made his way into the living room, Cassian was lounging on one of the sofas, a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked up as Azriel entered, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“What are you doing here, Az?” Cassian asked, a teasing grin on his face. “Shouldn’t you be in the arms of your beloved blacksmith right now?”

Azriel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression filled with regret. “I might have fucked up, Cass.”

Cassian’s grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he set his glass down. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Before Azriel could answer, Mor came striding into the room, her eyes narrowing as she took in the tension in the air. “What’s going on? Why do you look like someone just punched you in the gut, Az?”

Azriel hesitated for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice low and filled with guilt. “Y/N overheard me talking to Rhys. She knows we’re mates, and… I didn’t tell her. She’s angry—hurt, and I can’t blame her.”

Mor’s eyes widened in shock, and then, in a rare burst of emotion, she nearly screamed at him, “Azriel, are you serious? You didn’t tell her? How could you keep something like that from her?”

Azriel winced at the intensity of her reaction, but he knew she was right. He had messed up, and now he was paying the price for it.

Cassian, ever the voice of reason—or at least attempted reason—leaned forward, trying to keep the mood from completely spiraling. “Alright, let’s not lose our heads here. Az, it sounds like she just needs some time. It’s a lot to take in, and she’s been through so much already.”

Mor shook her head, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Time, sure. But what are you even still doing here, Azriel? You should be with her, apologizing, explaining—whatever it takes to make this right. You can’t just sit here and wallow in self-pity.”

Cassian nodded in agreement, though his tone was gentler. “She’s got a point, brother. You need to go back, talk to her again. Hell, get on your knees if you have to, but don’t just give up.”

Azriel looked between the two of them, torn between his own guilt and the advice of his friends. “I… I don’t know if she’ll even want to see me right now.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mor snapped, her voice firm. “You go back to her, and you don’t come back here until you’ve made things right. And Az, I mean it—you better not step foot in this house for the next few days. Focus on her.”

Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, offering him a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve got this, Az. Just be honest with her, and give her the time she needs. She cares about you—don’t forget that.”

Azriel nodded slowly, the weight of his friends’ words sinking in. He had messed up, but he wasn’t about to give up on you. He couldn’t.

“Thanks, both of you,” he said quietly, his resolve strengthening. “I’m going back. I’ll make it right.”

“Good,” Mor said, her tone softening slightly. “Now go, and don’t come back until she’s forgiven you.”

With that, Azriel turned and headed for the door, his heart heavy but determined. He knew he had a lot to make up for, but he was willing to do whatever it took to win back your trust.

As he left the Town House, he couldn’t help but think of you—alone, hurting, and confused. He had made a mistake, but he wouldn’t let it be the end of what could be something truly special between you. He would find a way to make things right, no matter what it took.

Azriel’s heart pounded in his chest as he made his way back through the quiet streets of Velaris, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He had never felt so conflicted, so desperate to fix something that he wasn’t even sure could be mended. But he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t going to give up on you. Not now, not ever.

The path to your apartment felt longer than usual, each step heavy with the weight of what had transpired between you. When he finally reached your door, he paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His mind raced with thoughts of what to say, how to explain, but in the end, he knew that words might not be enough. It was his actions that would have to speak for him now.

He raised his hand and knocked softly, his heart in his throat as he waited for you to answer. The silence that followed felt like an eternity, but then, finally, he heard the sound of your footsteps approaching the door.

 His heart was pounding, a mix of regret and determination driving him as he looked into your eyes. The silence between you was heavy, but he knew he had to speak, to say what needed to be said.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you about the bond. I should have trusted you with the truth from the beginning. I was wrong to keep it from you, and I can’t express how much I regret that.”

You looked at him, your expression guarded but not closed off. He could see the hurt in your eyes, but also the glimmer of something else—something that gave him a shred of hope.

“Azriel,” you said, your voice calm but firm, “why didn’t you tell me? I had to find out by overhearing a conversation. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

He flinched at your words, the pain in your voice cutting deep. “I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice low. “I was afraid of overwhelming you, of losing you before we even had a chance. I didn’t want to put more pressure on you after everything you’ve been through. But I realize now that I was wrong. You deserved to know the truth.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze unwavering. “You should have trusted me to handle it, Azriel. You should have let me decide how to deal with it.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “You’re right. I should have. And I’m sorry that I didn’t. But I’m here now, and I want to make things right. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

There was a long pause as you looked at him, weighing his words. Finally, you stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come inside, Azriel. We need to talk.”

Relief washed over him as he stepped through the doorway, his heart still pounding but with a renewed sense of purpose. You closed the door behind him, and he followed you into the living room, where the remnants of your evening lay scattered—a half-empty cup of tea, a blanket draped over the back of the couch.

You both sat down, the air between you still thick with unspoken words. Azriel watched you, waiting for you to speak first, wanting to hear what you had to say.

“I’m not going to lie,” you began, your voice steady, “I was really upset when I overheard you and Rhys. I felt… blindsided. But I also know that you didn’t keep it from me to hurt me. You were trying to protect me, even if it was the wrong way to do it.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “That’s exactly it. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I should have been honest with you from the start.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you considered your next words. “I don’t know what this bond means for us, Az. I don’t even know how I feel about it right now. But I do know that I care about you, and that I’m willing to figure this out—together.”

A wave of relief washed over him, and he leaned forward, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “We’ll figure it out, Y/N. I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to make this right. I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

You looked at him, your expression softening slightly. “I believe you, Azriel. But this is going to take time. We need to rebuild the trust that was shaken tonight.”

He nodded, fully understanding the gravity of your words. “I’ll give you all the time you need. Just know that I’m not going anywhere.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. But there was also a sense of resolution, a quiet understanding that while things weren’t perfect, they could be mended.

Finally, you broke the silence, a small, tentative smile playing on your lips. “Would you like some tea? It’s not much, but it’s something.”

Azriel smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Tea sounds perfect.”

You stood up and made your way to the kitchen, and Azriel followed, the distance between you feeling just a little bit smaller than it had moments before. As you prepared the tea, the normalcy of the moment brought a sense of calm to both of you.

When you returned to the living room with the tea, Azriel took the cup you offered and sat down beside you, the warmth of the cup a comforting weight in his hands.

Azriel sat on the couch, his heart still heavy with the weight of your earlier conversation. The tension between you had begun to ease, but there was still so much left unsaid, so much to work through. He watched you as you moved about the kitchen, your back turned to him as you prepared something else. 

A few moments later, you returned to the living room, carrying a small plate with a slice of cake on it. You set it down on the table in front of him with a quiet smile.

“I, um, had planned to give you something to eat later,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “But since you came back so quickly, this is all I have for now.”

Azriel looked at the cake, then back at you, his heart swelling with emotion. The gesture, simple as it was, meant more to him than words could express. He could see the effort you were making, the tentative steps toward repairing what had been shaken between you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and careful. “Does this mean… does this mean that you accept the bond?”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, there was only silence between you. Then, slowly, you nodded, your eyes softening as you reached out to take his hand in yours.

“I love you, Azriel,” you said quietly, your voice filled with sincerity. “I was hurt, yes, and I needed time to process everything. But the truth is, I’ve felt something between us for a while now. The bond… it’s just a name for what we already have. And yes, I accept it. I accept you.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest as your words washed over him. He had been so afraid that he had lost you, that his mistake had been too much to overcome, but here you were, telling him that you loved him, that you accepted the bond that tied you together.

Without thinking, he set the cup of tea aside and pulled you into his arms, holding you close as a wave of relief and love washed over him. You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your head against his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

You smiled against him, the tension between you finally melting away as you allowed yourself to fully embrace what had always been there. The bond, the connection, the love—it was all real, and it was all yours.

Azriel pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “Thank you for giving me a second chance,” he said, his voice earnest. “I won’t let you down, Y/N. I promise.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “I know you won’t, Azriel. We’ll get through this together.”

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours as he closed his eyes, savoring the closeness, the warmth of your presence. For the first time in what felt like days, he allowed himself to truly believe that everything would be alright.

After a few moments, you both pulled back, and Azriel’s gaze fell to the cake on the table. He chuckled softly, the sound full of warmth and affection.

“You know,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for a piece of cake.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and it filled the room with a sense of peace. “Well, enjoy it,” you replied with a grin. “It’s the least I could do after everything.”

Azriel picked up the fork and took a bite of the cake, savoring the sweet taste and the even sweeter feeling of being here with you, in this moment. When he looked back at you, his eyes were filled with love, the bond between you stronger than ever.

“You know, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice laced with affection, “I don’t need anything else. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You smiled, your heart full as you leaned in to kiss him, the bond between you humming with contentment. “You have me, Azriel. Now and always.”

Whatever control Azriel had been holding onto snapped. In a swift movement, he lifted you into his strong arms, holding you close. Your breasts pressed against his chest, and your legs instinctively wrapped tightly around his waist. The intensity in his gaze was like a fire that had been smoldering for too long, finally unleashed.

He kissed you with a fervor that made your heart race, his lips claiming yours as if he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was deep, demanding, and you met it with equal passion, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him even closer.

“Gods, Y/N,” Azriel murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. “I want you too. So much.”

Azriel carried you effortlessly toward the bedroom, his wings flaring slightly behind him, adding to the sense of raw power that radiated from him. You could feel every muscle in his body as he held you, the strength and control that he usually kept so tightly in check now fully on display.

He pushed open the door with his foot, never breaking the kiss, and carried you inside. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a silvery hue over everything. The air was thick with tension, the bond between you humming with anticipation.

Azriel set you down on the edge of the bed, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he leaned in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment, every taste of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You shivered at his words, the possessiveness in his tone sending a thrill through you. “I’m yours, Azriel,” you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion. “Always.”

His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips, and the softness of your thighs. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire in your core that only he could stoke. You arched into his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers teased the hem of your shirt.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Azriel lifted your shirt over your head, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight of you, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples.

A gasp escaped your lips at the sensation, your back arching as you pressed yourself closer to him. Azriel’s lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned down, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, and finally, to your breasts.

“You drive me wild,” he murmured, his voice husky as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak as his hand massaged the other. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the ripple of muscles beneath his shirt. Without thinking, you tugged at the fabric, eager to feel his skin against yours. Azriel complied, pulling away just long enough to strip off his shirt before pressing his body against yours once more.

The feel of his bare chest against your skin was intoxicating, the heat of his body searing into you. You could feel the hard planes of his abdomen, the strength in his arms as he held you close, the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.

Azriel’s mouth was on yours again, his kiss rougher this time, more desperate. His hands continued to explore your body, one slipping down to the waistband of your pants. He paused, his gaze meeting yours, silently asking for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching in anticipation. “Please, Azriel,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “I need you.”

Azriel wasted no time, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs, leaving you bare before him. He stood back for a moment, his eyes raking over your body, his expression filled with a mix of reverence and hunger.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

Before you could respond, Azriel was on you again, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your stomach, stopping just above the apex of your thighs. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin there, his breath warm against you.

Your heart raced, your body trembling with anticipation as his lips moved lower, teasing you with feather-light touches that had you aching for more. When his mouth finally found its mark, you cried out, your hands fisting in the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

“Azriel,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “Please… don’t stop.”

He chuckled against you, the sound vibrating through your core. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, his voice filled with wicked promise.

Azriel was relentless, his tongue and lips working you with a skill that left you breathless. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to push you to the edge and then pull you back, driving you wild with need. Your hips bucked against his mouth, but he held you firmly, keeping you right where he wanted you.

“You taste incredible,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “I could do this all night.”

The sensations built, spiraling higher and higher until you thought you might shatter from the intensity of it all. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Azriel slowed, his movements becoming more languid, more deliberate, drawing out your pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips lingering on every inch of skin, until he was once again face to face with you. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “You’re everything to me.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you pulled him down for another kiss, your lips meeting his with a fierce intensity. The taste of yourself on his lips only fueled the fire inside you, your need for him growing stronger with each passing second.

Azriel’s hands were everywhere—on your breasts, your hips, your thighs—fanning the flames of your desire. You could feel the evidence of his own arousal pressing against your thigh, and the thought of what was to come sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

But even as the frenzy built between you, there was no rush, no hurry to reach the final act. This was about savoring the moment, about exploring each other’s bodies, about giving and taking pleasure in equal measure.

“Azriel,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with emotion. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he breathed, his voice filled with raw emotion. “More than anything.”

And with those words, you let yourself get lost in him—in the feel of his hands on your skin, the taste of his lips, the sound of his ragged breathing. You let the bond between you hum with energy, fueling your desire, guiding your movements as you and Azriel gave yourselves over to the intensity of the moment.

Azriel’s breath was hot against your skin, his kisses trailing down your neck as he murmured words of love and desire. Your body was already buzzing with the pleasure he had given you, but a new kind of hunger was stirring within you—one that demanded to be fulfilled.

You pushed him back slightly, meeting his gaze with a look that made his eyes darken even more. Without a word, you flipped him onto his back, straddling his hips as you leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Azriel’s hands gripped your thighs, his touch possessive as he groaned into your mouth.

But you had something else in mind.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your lips down his jaw, along the column of his throat, savoring the way his breath hitched with every touch. You continued your descent, your fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “What are you—”

You silenced him with a look, a wicked smile playing on your lips as you pressed a kiss to his sternum. “I want to make you feel good, Az,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Let me take care of you.”

Azriel’s breath hitched again, his hands flexing on your thighs as he watched you with hooded eyes. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, your tone firm but filled with affection. “Just relax.”

His eyes fluttered closed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths as you continued your journey down his body. You took your time, kissing and caressing every inch of skin, savoring the way he shivered under your touch.

When you finally reached the waistband of his pants, you glanced up at him, your heart pounding with anticipation. Azriel’s eyes were on you, his gaze intense and full of need. With a slow, deliberate movement, you tugged at his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear, revealing the full extent of his arousal. 

Azriel let out a low groan as he was freed from the fabric, his length hard and pulsing with need. Your eyes got bigger, seing that the rumors about wingspand were in fact accurate and wonder how that could fit in your mouth. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered at the sight of him, your own desire flaring even hotter.

You wrapped your fingers around him, your touch firm but gentle as you stroked him slowly, watching his reaction. Azriel’s head fell back against the pillow, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he surrendered to your touch.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You’re going to drive me mad.”

“That’s the idea,” you teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his length, earning a sharp intake of breath from him.

You didn’t waste any more time, your mouth closing around him as you took him in slowly, savoring the way he filled you. Azriel’s hips bucked slightly, a low curse falling from his lips as he tangled his fingers in your hair, his grip tight but not forceful.

You set a steady rhythm, your tongue teasing the sensitive underside of his length as you moved up and down, your hand working in tandem with your mouth. Every moan, every shiver that you drew from him only fueled your own desire, making you want to please him even more.

“Fuck,” Azriel hissed, his voice rough with pleasure. “Y/N, that feels—gods, you’re incredible.”

His praise spurred you on, and you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, reveling in the way he responded to you. Azriel’s breaths were coming faster now, his control slipping as you continued to work him with your mouth and hand.

“Please,” he rasped, his voice raw with need. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking with his as you pulled back slightly, your tongue flicking over the tip of his length in a way that made him shudder. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

Azriel’s grip on your hair tightened, his gaze burning with desire as he watched you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You smiled wickedly, your mouth and hand continuing their relentless assault on him. You could feel him starting to lose control, his hips bucking up into your mouth, his breathing ragged and desperate.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. “I’m close—so close.”

You didn’t let up, your pace quickening as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge. Azriel’s entire body tensed, his muscles flexing beneath your touch as he teetered on the brink of release.

And then, with a low, guttural moan, he came undone, his release spilling into your mouth as he shuddered beneath you. You took it all, swallowing him down, your hand and mouth working to prolong his pleasure until he was a trembling mess.

When you finally pulled back, you looked up at him, your lips curled into a satisfied smile. Azriel was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to regain his composure. His eyes were half-lidded, dark with lingering desire as he gazed at you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “That was… incredible.”

You crawled back up his body, pressing a kiss to his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you murmured, your tone teasing.

Azriel wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m not done with you yet,” he promised, his voice low and full of intent.

You shivered at the promise in his words, your own desire flaring up again at the thought of what was to come.

The night was far from over, and with the bond between you humming with energy, you knew that this was only the beginning of a night you would never forget.

Azriel’s eyes were still dark with desire as he looked at you, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of his release. But the hunger in his gaze told you that he wasn’t satisfied—not yet. The bond between you hummed with energy, pulling you closer, urging you to take this final step.

He rolled you onto your back with a swift movement, his body hovering over yours, his wings spread wide, casting shadows across the room. The intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, searing into your skin.

Azriel kissed you deeply, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a ferocity that took your breath away. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you with a mix of reverence and need. The feel of his roughened fingers against your soft skin sent shivers of anticipation down your spine.

“I need you, Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “I need all of you.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you nodded, your voice trembling with want. “Then take me, Az. I’m yours.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest at your words, and he moved lower, kissing and nipping at your skin as he positioned himself between your thighs. The heat of his arousal pressed against you, and you felt a thrill of anticipation course through you.

He paused, his gaze locking with yours as he gently caressed your face, his touch filled with love and tenderness. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of urgency. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your heart swelled at his concern, and you cupped his face in your hands, pulling him down for a slow, languid kiss. “I’m sure, Azriel. I want this—I want you.”

With a nod, Azriel positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, he began to push inside, the sensation of him stretching you inch by inch causing your breath to catch in your throat. He was big, and the way he filled you, inch by inch, made your toes curl in anticipation and pleasure.

“Gods,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he continued to press into you, the fullness of him overwhelming but intoxicating. “Azriel…”

He groaned as he sank deeper, his hands gripping your hips as he buried himself fully inside you. The stretch, the way he filled every part of you, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You gasped, your fingers clutching at his back, your legs wrapping around his waist as you urged him to move.

Azriel began to move, his thrusts slow and controlled at first, as if he was savoring every moment, every sensation. The rhythm he set was steady, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. You met his thrusts, your body moving in perfect sync with his, the bond between you humming with energy.

“Gods, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re so tight… so perfect.”

His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you reached up, your hands trailing along the powerful muscles of his back until you found the base of his wings. The moment your fingers brushed against the sensitive skin there, Azriel shuddered, his thrusts faltering for a moment as a low, guttural moan escaped his lips.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice raw with need. “Touch me… right there.”

You did as he asked, your fingers tracing the edges of his wings, marveling at the way they trembled under your touch. The reaction was immediate—Azriel’s thrusts became faster, more desperate, as if your touch had ignited something primal inside him.

The connection between you sparked with an intensity that made your head spin. The pleasure built, spiraling higher and higher until you thought you might lose yourself in the sensation.

Azriel’s thrusts became more powerful, his hips driving into you with a force that left you breathless. The bed creaked beneath you, but you barely noticed, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside you.

You could feel the tension coiling in your lower abdomen, ready to snap at any moment. Your hands continued to caress his wings, your touch sending jolts of pleasure through him that matched the waves of ecstasy coursing through your own body.

“Azriel,” you moaned, your voice breathy with need. “I’m close… so close.”

“Me too,” he panted, his voice strained with the effort to hold himself back. “Gods, Y/N, you’re incredible.”

With one final, powerful thrust, the world around you shattered. Your climax crashed over you, your body tensing and then releasing all at once as you cried out his name. The sensation was so intense, so all-consuming, that you felt like you were floating, the bond between you and Azriel pulsing with shared pleasure.

Azriel followed you over the edge, his own release tearing through him as he shuddered above you. He groaned deeply, his wings trembling as he buried himself deep inside you, his body quaking with the force of his climax.

For a moment, the two of you remained intertwined, your bodies still connected as you both came down from the high. Azriel’s forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to steady himself.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “I’ve never loved anyone like this before.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love and contentment as you stroked his cheek. “I love you too, Azriel. So much.”

He kissed you softly, the touch of his lips gentle, almost reverent. The bond between you was stronger than ever, the connection solidified by the physical and emotional closeness you had just shared.

Azriel slowly pulled out of you, leaving you both feeling slightly empty yet completely fulfilled. He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your bodies still tangled together.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of your breathing as you both lay there, basking in the afterglow of your shared experience. The night was quiet, peaceful, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt truly whole.

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. The bond between you was unbreakable, and with Azriel by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome.

Well you wished you could have drifted off to sleep in the comforting embrace of Azriel, but the moment you felt his hand trailing down your back, you knew that the bat boy wasn’t ready to stop. The frenzy of the bond had a hold on both of you, and the desire that had been temporarily sated was reigniting with a vengeance.

Azriel’s lips found your neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your pulse. The heat of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the tension building in his body once again. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second.

“Az,” you murmured, your voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and renewed desire. “I thought… I thought we were done.”

He chuckled against your skin, the sound low and filled with promise. “We’re never done, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with the intensity of his need. “Not until you’re completely spent… not until I’ve had my fill of you.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart raced at his words, the way your body responded to his touch, despite the exhaustion that was beginning to settle in. The frenzy was overwhelming, but you knew there was no resisting it—not when every fiber of your being craved him as much as he craved you.

Azriel rolled you onto your back, his wings flaring out behind him as he looked down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. The sight of him like this—so strong, so powerful, and entirely focused on you—was enough to send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

“You’re insatiable,” you whispered, your voice breathless as you looked up at him.

“For you?” he growled, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “Always.”

Without warning, Azriel spread your legs wider, positioning himself between them. The sheer size of him, combined with the intensity of his gaze, made your breath hitch in anticipation. He wasn’t going to hold back this time, and the thought of what was to come made your core clench with need.

He entered you in one swift, powerful thrust, burying himself deep inside you. The stretch, the fullness of him, was almost too much, and yet it was exactly what you craved. A cry of pleasure escaped your lips as he set a demanding pace, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body.

“Azriel!” you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as he pounded into you, his pace relentless. “Oh gods, yes… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He drove into you with a fervor that made your head spin, the bond between you humming with the intensity of your shared pleasure. His wings flared out above you, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with every movement, a testament to his strength and stamina.

But it wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. The love and desire in his eyes were enough to take your breath away, to make you feel completely consumed by him.

As his pace quickened, you felt the tension coiling in your lower abdomen, ready to snap at any moment. Azriel leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with the same urgency as his thrusts.

“I love you, Y/N,” he growled against your lips, his voice rough with need. “Let go. I want to feel you shatter around me.”

His words were your undoing. With a scream of his name, you came undone, your body convulsing with the force of your climax. The intensity of it was overwhelming, your vision blurring as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Azriel followed you over the edge, his release hitting him with such force that his wings trembled above you. He buried himself deep inside you, his body quaking with the strength of his orgasm as he groaned your name, the sound filled with raw emotion.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, leaving only the two of you, locked together in the aftermath of your shared release. The bond between you pulsed with energy, sealing the connection that had been forged in the heat of the frenzy.

Azriel collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he tried to catch his breath. His wings draped over you like a protective cocoon, his body warm and comforting against yours.

The way Azriel’s hands began to roam over your skin again, the heat in his gaze, told you that the night was far from over. The bond between you hummed with energy, still unsatisfied, still craving more.

As you looked into his eyes, a shiver of anticipation ran through you. The night was going to be long, and neither of you was ready to stop.

---

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.5k

warning; /

notes; Enjoy this chapter ;))

here is the link for part 12 or part 14

---

The morning was crisp and clear as you stood outside your apartment, waiting for Cassian to arrive. You had spent the last few days organizing your paperwork into a large, sturdy pouch, and now it was finally time to take everything to Rhys at the House of Wind. The pouch was heavy, filled with all the contacts, contracts, and notes you’d gathered over the years, and you slung it over your shoulder with a sense of accomplishment.

Cassian arrived with his usual swagger, a wide grin on his face as he approached. “Ready to go?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he took in the size of the pouch.

You nodded, but gave him a stern look. “Yes, but I’m warning you—be careful while flying. If you make me lose even one of these papers, you’ll be the one going after it.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed, his wings spreading wide as he prepared to take off. “No promises! But I’ll do my best. Just hold on tight.”

You rolled your eyes, already sensing that this flight was going to be anything but smooth. You handed the pouch to Cassian, who slung it over his shoulder with ease, and then he scooped you up in his arms, his wings giving a powerful beat as he lifted off the ground.

The initial ascent was smooth enough, but as soon as you were high above the city, Cassian couldn’t resist the urge to show off. He banked sharply to the left, and then to the right, his laughter ringing out as he swooped and dove through the sky.

“Cassian!” you shouted, your grip on his shirt tightening as you clung to him. “Stop messing around! I swear, if you drop me or that pouch—”

He just laughed harder, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Come on, Y/N! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

You glared at him, but the truth was, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Despite your protests, there was something exhilarating about the way he flew, the wind rushing past you, the city of Velaris spread out far below.

But then Cassian executed a particularly sharp dive, and your stomach lurched. You instinctively grabbed his shirt with both hands, your heart racing. “Cassian, I swear, if you don’t stop—”

He looked down at you, still grinning but with a touch of concern in his eyes. “You’re not scared, are you?” he teased, though his voice held a note of reassurance.

“I’m not scared,” you grumbled, though your grip on his shirt betrayed you. “Just… let’s get there in one piece, alright?”

Cassian chuckled, his laughter more good-natured this time. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. But you have to admit, it’s kind of fun.”

You huffed, but you couldn’t deny the thrill that came with flying like this, even if Cassian’s antics were a bit much. “Maybe just a little,” you admitted begrudgingly.

Cassian’s grin widened as he leveled out the flight, making the rest of the journey smoother and more comfortable. You could feel the tension in your body slowly easing as you relaxed into his hold, the wind cooling your cheeks as you soared over the city.

Before long, the House of Wind came into view, its imposing structure perched high above the cliffs of Velaris. Cassian began his descent, this time taking care to land gently on the balcony, much to your relief.

Once on solid ground, he set you down carefully, still chuckling as he adjusted the pouch on his shoulder. “See? No harm done.”

You shot him a mock glare, but the corner of your mouth quirked up in a smile. “Next time, I’m bringing a parachute.”

Cassian laughed heartily at that, handing you the pouch as you both made your way inside. “You might just need it if you keep flying with me.”

The two of you continued down the hallway, the familiar corridors of the House of Wind greeting you with their grand architecture and expansive views of the city below. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation as you approached Rhysand’s study, the pouch of documents growing heavier in your hand with each step.

Cassian knocked on the door, his usual confidence returning as he pushed it open and gestured for you to enter. “After you, Y/N. Rhys is expecting you.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you stepped into the room. Rhysand looked up from his desk, a welcoming smile on his face as he saw you.

“Y/N,” he greeted warmly, standing to meet you. “I’ve been looking forward to this. I hear you’ve been busy.”

You nodded, returning his smile as you set the pouch on his desk. “Very busy. I’ve gone through everything, and I think I’ve found some contacts and resources that could be really beneficial for the Night Court.”

Rhysand’s eyes gleamed with interest as he opened the pouch, glancing at the neatly organized documents inside. “I can’t wait to go through all of this. Thank you, Y/N. I know it must have been a lot of work.”

“It was,” you admitted, “but it was worth it. I’m glad I could contribute.”

Rhysand looked at you with a mix of gratitude and respect. “Your help is invaluable, Y/N. The Night Court is lucky to have you.”

You felt a warmth in your chest at his words, the sense of belonging you’d felt growing stronger with each passing day. 

As you settled into a chair across from Rhysand, Cassian leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he listened in. The study was as grand as you remembered, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city below. The soft light of the morning filtered through, casting a warm glow over the room as you began to unpack the contents of the pouch.

Rhysand watched with keen interest as you spread the documents and notes across the desk, each one carefully labeled and organized. “You’ve certainly been busy,” he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You nodded, feeling a sense of pride in the work you’d done. “I wanted to make sure I had everything in order before presenting it to you. There’s a lot to go over, but I think you’ll find it valuable.”

Rhysand leaned forward, his attention fully on you. “I’m all ears, Y/N. Show me what you’ve found.”

You took a deep breath and began, starting with the contacts you’d established across Prythian and the continent. “First, I’ve categorized the producers and merchants who have been reliable over the years. These are people who can be trusted for high-quality goods and services, whether it’s raw materials, finished products, or even discreet services that might be needed for more sensitive operations.”

You handed Rhysand a list, each name accompanied by notes on their strengths and specialties. He scanned the document, nodding thoughtfully as he took in the information.

“There’s also a section on the Day Court,” you continued, moving on to the next set of documents. “Helion’s court is rich in resources, and they’re very open to trade and alliances. I’ve worked with several of his advisors in the past, and they’ve always been straightforward and reliable. I think strengthening our relationship with the Day Court could be incredibly beneficial for the Night Court, especially in terms of shared resources and knowledge.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Helion is a valuable ally, and I agree—building on that relationship could open up a lot of opportunities for us.”

You smiled, encouraged by his response. “The Winter Court is another option. Kallias is cautious, but he’s also fair. I’ve had good dealings with him, and I think with the right approach, we could establish a stronger alliance there as well. They have access to resources that could complement what we have here in the Night Court, particularly when it comes to trade routes and certain raw materials.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful as he considered your words. “Our relationship with Kallias are decent, and I’ve been meaning to find ways to deepen our ties with the Winter Court. Your insight will be invaluable in that.”

You nodded, feeling a growing sense of confidence as you continued. “I’ve also included some contacts on the continent—merchants, nobles, and even a few courtiers who could be useful if we ever need to expand our reach beyond Prythian. These are people I’ve built relationships with over the years, and I believe they could be valuable allies if approached correctly.”

Rhysand took the document you handed him, his eyes scanning the names and notes with keen interest. “This is… impressive, Y/N. I knew you had connections, but I didn’t realize just how extensive your network was.”

You felt a flush of pride at his words, but you remained focused on the task at hand. “I’ve spent a lot of time building these relationships, and I’m glad they can be of use to the Night Court. I believe that with the right approach, we can create strong partnerships and alliances that will benefit us all.”

Rhysand looked up from the documents, his expression one of genuine admiration. “You’ve done more than just gather information, Y/N. You’ve laid the groundwork for something truly significant. This network you’ve built—it’s not just valuable; it’s powerful. And it could change the way we interact with the other courts and the continent.”

You felt a swell of emotion at his words, the weight of the past few weeks lifting slightly as you realized just how much your efforts were appreciated. “Thank you, Rhys. I’m just glad I could contribute.”

Rhysand smiled, a warm, approving smile that made you feel truly valued. “You’ve done more than contribute, Y/N. You’ve given us a path forward, one that I believe will be crucial in the days to come.”

Cassian, who had been silently listening, finally spoke up, a grin on his face. “I told you she’s a force to be reckoned with, Rhys.”

Rhysand chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That she is. And I’m grateful to have you on our side, Y/N.”

You returned his smile, a sense of fulfillment settling in your chest. The work you’d done was important, and it was clear that Rhysand saw the value in it. And as you sat there, surrounded by the supportive presence of Cassian and the genuine respect of Rhysand, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing the next steps, how to approach the various contacts and what strategies might be most effective. Rhysand was thorough, asking questions and offering insights, but he also trusted your judgment, allowing you to take the lead in certain areas.

By the time the meeting concluded, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The Night Court was more than just a place you had found refuge—it was a place where you could make a difference, where your skills and knowledge were not only valued but crucial.

As you stood to leave, Rhysand walked you to the door, his expression still filled with that same warm admiration. “Thank you again, Y/N. I’m looking forward to seeing how all of this unfolds. And remember, you’re always welcome here—both as an advisor and as a friend.”

You smiled, touched by his words. “Thank you, Rhys. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

With a final nod, you and Cassian made your way out of the study and back into the bustling corridors of the House of Wind. The flight back home would be less nerve-wracking, you were sure, but the sense of accomplishment and belonging would stay with you long after you touched back down.

——

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting Velaris in a soft, dusky glow as you made your way to the Town House. The familiar path felt comforting, and there was a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest as you approached the grand doors. It had been a week since Azriel had left for the Illyrian camps, and tonight’s dinner would mark his return.

As you entered the Town House, the warm light from within greeted you, along with the familiar sound of laughter and conversation drifting from the dining room. You could already hear Cassian’s booming voice, followed by Mor’s playful retorts, and you couldn’t help but smile at the lively atmosphere.

You were just about to step into the dining room when you felt strong arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you into a warm, familiar embrace. The scent of pine and shadows surrounded you, and you instantly knew who it was. 

“Azriel,” you whispered, a smile spreading across your face as you leaned back into his embrace.

He didn’t say anything at first, just held you close, his chin resting gently on the top of your head. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart—everything about the moment felt right, like a piece of your world had finally clicked back into place.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, carrying all the weight of the past week.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you placed your hands over his, squeezing gently.

After a few moments, he released you, and you turned to face him, your heart swelling at the sight of his familiar, handsome face. Azriel’s eyes, dark and intense, softened as they met yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Without a word, he took your hand and led you into the dining room, where the rest of the Inner Circle was already seated around the table. The room was filled with warmth and laughter, the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread mingling with the crackling fire in the hearth.

“Y/N!” Mor’s voice called out as you stepped into the room, her face lighting up with a bright smile. She was already seated at the table, a glass of wine in hand. “Come join us! We were just talking about you.”

You chuckled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you made your way to the table. “Hopefully, all good things?”

“Of course,” Cassian chimed in with a grin, raising his glass in a mock toast. “We were just saying how you’ve been holding down the fort while we’ve been off dealing with our own chaos.”

Rhysand, seated at the head of the table, offered you a warm smile as you took your seat. “We’re glad you could make it, Y/N. And thank you again for all the work you’ve done these past few days.”

You nodded, returning his smile. “It was my pleasure. I’m just glad I could help.”

As you settled into your seat, you glanced around the table, noticing that everyone seemed to be in high spirits. The table was laden with food—roasted meats, fresh bread, and an array of vegetables and fruits, all arranged with care. The scent of the meal filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth.

You took your seat next to Azriel, the two of you sharing a quiet moment as the others continued their conversation. His presence beside you was a comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you were never truly alone.

As dinner was served, the conversation flowed easily around the table. Mor and Cassian kept the mood light with their banter, while Rhysand and Amren occasionally chimed in with wry comments. The laughter was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing into the evening, the weight of the past few weeks lifting with each passing moment.

At one point, Cassian leaned over to Azriel, nudging him with his elbow. “So, Az, anything exciting happen while you were away? Or was it the usual—fighting, training, and scaring the recruits?”

Azriel smirked, shaking his head. “Nothing too exciting. Just the usual chaos. But I did bring back some interesting reports for Rhysand. We’ll go over them tomorrow.”

“Always the diligent one,” Mor teased, raising her glass in a toast. “But we’re glad to have you back, Az. It’s not the same without you.”

Azriel gave her a rare, genuine smile, lifting his own glass in response. “It’s good to be back.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you couldn’t help but feel a deeper connection to the group. This was more than just a dinner—it was a reunion of friends, of family. And as you glanced around the table, you realized just how lucky you were to have found a place among them.

As the meal continued, the conversation eventually turned to lighter topics—stories of past adventures, plans for future missions, and even a few playful jabs at each other’s expense. At one point, Cassian launched into a particularly embarrassing story about Rhysand’s early days as High Lord, much to everyone’s amusement.

But through it all, you were acutely aware of Azriel’s presence beside you. Every now and then, your hands would brush, or your knees would bump under the table, and each touch sent a pleasant warmth spreading through you. It was as if, despite the lively conversation around you, there was an unspoken connection between the two of you—a bond that had grown stronger during his absence.

As dessert was served—a decadent chocolate cake that Mor had insisted on—you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. The laughter, the warmth, the feeling of being surrounded by people who cared for you—it was exactly what you needed.

---

The night had been perfect, filled with laughter, warmth, and the kind of comfort that only comes from being surrounded by those you care about. As the evening began to wind down, you found yourself feeling content, your earlier anxieties having melted away in the presence of your friends—and especially in the presence of Azriel.

But as you moved to help clear the table, you noticed Azriel and Rhysand slipping away toward Rhys’s study, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. Something about the way they moved, the seriousness in their expressions, caught your attention, and you couldn’t help but follow them with your gaze as they disappeared down the hallway.

You hesitated for a moment, then quietly stepped closer to the door, the faint sound of their voices drifting out from the slightly ajar door.

“…have you told her yet?” Rhysand’s voice was low, but you could hear the concern in it.

There was a pause, and then Azriel’s voice, quieter but clear, responded. “Not yet. I… I haven’t found the right moment.”

Rhys sighed softly. “Az, she deserves to know. You’re her mate. This isn’t something you can hide forever.”

Your heart stopped. The world around you seemed to fade away, and all you could hear were those words echoing in your mind. Mate. Azriel is my mate.

The realization hit you like a blow, your breath catching in your throat as the full weight of it settled over you. The bond you had felt, the connection that had been growing between you—it all made sense now. But the suddenness of it, the fact that you hadn’t known, left you reeling.

You felt as if the floor had dropped out from under you, your pulse racing as you struggled to process what you had just heard. A part of you wanted to burst into the room, to demand answers, to confront Azriel about why he hadn’t told you. But another part of you was too stunned, too overwhelmed to do anything but stand there, frozen.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, to calm the storm of emotions raging inside you. You couldn’t let them see that you had overheard. Not now. Not like this.

With a shaky exhale, you turned and made your way back to the living room, your face carefully composed, even as your mind raced. As you entered the room, Mor looked up, concern flickering in her eyes.

“Y/N? Are you alright?�� she asked, her tone gentle.

You managed a smile, though it felt hollow, and nodded. “I’m fine, Mor. Just… thinking about the night, that’s all.”

Mor studied you for a moment longer, as if sensing that something was off, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she gave you a warm smile and a quick hug. “Alright. If you say so.”

Before you could respond, Azriel and Rhysand returned to the room, their conversation evidently finished. You could feel Azriel’s gaze on you, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. But you avoided his eyes, not ready to face him—not after what you had just learned.

“I think it’s time for me to head home,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “It’s been a long day.”

Cassian, ever the boisterous one, pulled you into a bear hug. “You did great today, Y/N. Thanks for everything.”

You hugged him back, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Cass. It was good to see you.”

Next was Mor, who gave you a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll do another girls’ night soon, okay?”

“Definitely,” you replied, the words feeling distant as your mind remained occupied with the revelation you had just overheard.

You turned to Rhysand, who was watching you with his usual calm, assessing gaze. “Thank you for dinner, Rhys. It was… wonderful.”

“You’re always welcome here, Y/N,” Rhysand said with a smile, though his eyes held a hint of something deeper—an understanding, perhaps. “Get home safe.”

You nodded, then finally turned to Azriel, who had been watching you with a concerned expression. “I’ll walk you home,” he offered, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

You knew you couldn’t refuse, not without raising suspicion, so you nodded. “Alright.”

As you walked side by side through the quiet streets of Velaris, the night air cool against your skin, the silence between you and Azriel grew heavier with each passing moment. The weight of what you had overheard back at the Town House was pressing down on you, making it impossible to keep your thoughts from swirling.

Azriel had been stealing glances at you, his brow furrowed with concern, but he hadn’t said anything yet. Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, he stopped walking, turning to face you with that same look of quiet worry.

“Y/N,” he began softly, his voice breaking the silence, “is everything alright? You’ve been quiet.”

You stopped too, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it—the moment you had been dreading and anticipating all at once. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, your emotions too raw to keep hidden any longer.

“Azriel,” you started, your voice shaking slightly, “I overheard you and Rhys talking.”

His expression immediately shifted, his eyes widening in surprise and concern. “What… what did you hear?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the emotions were too strong. “I heard him ask you if you’ve told me yet—that we’re mates.”

Azriel froze, his face paling as the reality of your words sunk in. For a moment, he looked as if he didn’t know what to say, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the unexpected confrontation.

You continued, the hurt and confusion you had been holding back finally spilling out. “Why didn’t you tell me, Azriel? Why didn’t you say anything? How long have you known?”

His mouth opened, but no words came out at first. He took a step toward you, his expression full of regret and fear. “Y/N, I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to keep it from you, I swear. I’ve known for a while, but… I was afraid. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

You could feel your heart breaking as you listened to him, torn between the deep bond you felt with him and the betrayal of having this truth kept from you. “Afraid?” you echoed, your voice rising with emotion. “Az, you’re my mate. Don’t you think I had the right to know? To make my own decisions about this?”

He winced at the pain in your voice, his shoulders slumping as if under a great weight. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice filled with anguish. “I know, and I hate myself for not telling you sooner. But… I wanted to give you time, to let you heal from everything you’ve been through. I didn’t want to add more to your plate when you were already dealing with so much.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to process everything. You knew that Azriel cared for you deeply, that he had always been there for you, but this revelation had shaken you to your core. “You should have trusted me, Azriel,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You should have trusted me to handle it, to make my own choices.”

He reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours as if afraid to touch you. “I do trust you, Y/N. More than anyone. And that’s why I’m telling you now—I love you. I have for so long, and I was terrified of losing you, of doing something wrong that would push you away. But I know now that keeping this from you was a mistake.”

You closed your eyes, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “I don’t know what to do, Az. I don’t know how to feel about all of this.”

Azriel stepped closer, his voice desperate and filled with emotion. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just… just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. And I’m so, so sorry for keeping this from you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. The sincerity, the regret, and the love in his eyes were unmistakable, and it made your heart ache even more. Despite everything, you couldn’t deny the connection between you, the bond that had always been there, even if you hadn’t realized it.

“I need time, Az,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I need time to process all of this.”

He nodded, his eyes full of understanding and pain. “Of course. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, waiting, whenever you’re ready.”

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, the night air cool around you, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, you took a step back, needing some distance to gather your thoughts.

“I’m going to head home,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel nodded again, his expression filled with a deep sadness. “I’ll walk you.”

You didn’t argue, knowing that despite everything, you still felt safer with him by your side. The walk home was silent, the tension between you palpable. When you finally reached your door, you turned to face him, your heart heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you said, your voice strained with emotion.

Azriel looked at you with such an intensity that it nearly took your breath away. “I love you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “No matter what happens, I just need you to know that.”

You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to spill over again. “I know, Az. I know.”

And with that, you turned and entered your home, the door closing softly behind you, leaving Azriel standing alone in the cold night, his heart as heavy as yours.

---

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 12

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 5k

warning; grief.

notes; Enjoy this chapter ;))

here is the link for part 11 or part 13

---

The first few rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. The warmth of the morning light slowly crept over the bed, gently waking you from a deep, dreamless sleep. You stirred slightly, feeling the comforting weight of Azriel’s body against yours, his head resting on your chest, his arm draped possessively around your waist.

His wings, large and magnificent even in rest, were spread out across the bed, the tips of them brushing the floor. The sight made you smile, a warmth blooming in your chest at the sheer intimacy of the moment. It was as if the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving only this cocoon of peace and comfort.

You shifted slightly, your fingers absentmindedly brushing through Azriel’s dark hair. The gentle motion seemed to stir him from his sleep, and you felt him shift against you, his arm tightening around your waist as he slowly woke up. His head moved slightly, his lips brushing against your skin as he nuzzled closer, a soft, contented sigh escaping him.

The sensation of his warm breath against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled up from your chest. “That tickles,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

Hearing your laughter, Azriel lifted his head slightly, his eyes half-open as he looked up at you with a sleepy smile. The sight of him, his hair tousled, his eyes soft with affection, made your heart skip a beat. It was a side of him that few ever saw, a vulnerability that he only seemed to share with you.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with sleep as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

The kiss was soft, unhurried, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his smile widened as he saw the happiness in your eyes. “I like hearing you laugh,” he admitted quietly, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I think I’m starting to like it too,” you replied, your voice soft and filled with warmth.

Azriel’s gaze softened even further, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips lingering against yours as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. The kiss was filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache in the best possible way, and you found yourself getting lost in the sensation, in the warmth and safety of his embrace.

For a long while, the two of you simply lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies pressed close together as if the world outside didn’t exist. His wings draped over you both like a protective shield, and you nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

There was something magical about the morning light, the way it bathed the room in a soft, golden glow, as if time had truly stopped just for the two of you. In that moment, there was no grief, no pain—only the comfort of Azriel’s presence, the steady beat of his heart, and the warmth of his love surrounding you.

You pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, your lips brushing against his skin as you whispered, “Thank you, Azriel. For everything.”

He tightened his hold on you, his hand gently caressing your back as he rested his forehead against yours. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m just glad I could be here for you.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you felt a deep sense of contentment, of rightness. 

And as you lay there, wrapped in Azriel’s embrace, the morning light washing over you both, you felt a sense of peace that you hadn’t known in a long time. It was as if the darkness that had been hanging over you had finally lifted, replaced by the warmth of the sun and the comfort of the man who held you close.

For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay. And with Azriel by your side, you knew that you could face whatever the future held—together.

After spending a few more moments wrapped in each other’s arms, the two of you reluctantly parted, knowing that the day ahead couldn’t be ignored. You slipped out of bed, pulling on a robe while Azriel gathered his clothes, a small, contented smile never leaving his face as he watched you move around the room.

Once dressed, you both made your way to the kitchen, where the scent of fresh coffee filled the air. The warmth of the sun streamed in through the windows, bathing the space in a golden light that made everything feel calm, peaceful. It was a perfect morning, one that felt almost too good to be true after everything that had happened.

Azriel moved with ease in your kitchen, his movements graceful and sure as he prepared coffee for the both of you. You couldn’t help but admire him as he worked, the way his wings folded neatly behind him, the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt as he reached for the mugs.

He caught you watching him and flashed you a small, knowing smile as he approached with two steaming cups of coffee. “Here you go,” he said, handing you one of the mugs. His fingers brushed yours in the exchange, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking a sip of the rich brew, savoring the warmth and the comforting taste.

Azriel leaned against the counter, his gaze soft as he watched you. For a moment, the two of you simply enjoyed the quiet of the morning, the shared warmth of the coffee, and the comforting presence of each other. It was a small moment, but it was one that felt deeply meaningful, a continuation of the peace that had settled over you both since waking up together.

“So,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, “What do you have planned for today?”

Azriel’s expression grew a little more serious as he considered your question. “I have to head to the Illyrian camps until the end of the week,” he said, his tone apologetic. “There are some matters that need my attention—nothing too serious, but it’s something I have to take care of.”

You nodded, understanding the responsibilities that came with his position. “Will everything be alright there?”

Azriel sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “It should be. The camps… they always need a bit of managing. I just need to make sure everything is in order, and that the commanders are doing what they’re supposed to. It’s more of a routine check, but it requires my presence.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to you with a hint of concern. “Will you be alright while I’m gone? I hate the thought of leaving you alone after everything…”

You smiled gently, setting your coffee mug down on the counter before stepping closer to him. “Azriel, I’ll be fine,” you reassured him, your voice soft but firm. “I’m getting stronger every day, and I have what we talked about with Rhys last time to keep me busy. Besides, you’ll only be gone for a week, right?”

He nodded, though the concern in his eyes didn’t fully fade. “Yes, just a week.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you looked into his eyes. “Then I’ll be fine,” you said softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips. The kiss was slow, gentle, a promise that everything would be alright, that you could handle this.

Azriel melted into the kiss, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer, his wings curling around you both in a protective embrace. When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his as you spoke.

“I’ll miss you, but I’ll be okay. You’ve given me so much strength, Azriel. I’ll be alright.”

He sighed, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you too,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “But knowing you’re alright… that makes it easier.”

You smiled, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “I’ll be here when you get back. And maybe I’ll even have something special waiting for you.”

Azriel’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes shining with affection. “I look forward to it,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek.

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, savoring the warmth and closeness, before you finally stepped back, ready to face the day ahead. The week apart would be difficult, but you knew that with each passing day, you were getting stronger, more resilient. And with Azriel by your side, even from afar, you knew that you could handle whatever challenges came your way.

Azriel left soon after breakfast, the taste of coffee still lingering on your lips when he pulled you into a warm embrace at the door. His departure was filled with quiet reassurances and soft kisses, his concern for you palpable even as he prepared to fulfill his duties at the Illyrian camps. You held onto him for a moment longer than necessary, savoring the warmth of his presence, before finally letting him go.

The door closed softly behind him, and the apartment seemed to echo with the absence of his presence. The silence that followed was heavy, almost oppressive, and you found yourself lingering in the doorway, staring at the space he had just occupied. It was a strange feeling, being alone again after everything that had happened, but you knew that this time apart would be necessary, both for him and for you.

It was too soon to go back to the shop. The thought of entering the forge without Alex’s bright voice and without Stellan’s protective presence was too much to bear. The memories were still too fresh, the wounds too raw. So instead, you decided to focus on something that had been on your mind for a while—something that could help the Night Court in ways you hadn’t yet fully explored.

You went to the trunk at the foot of your bed, the one that held the accumulated paperwork from your years as a blacksmith. Inside were records, contracts, and letters—each one a testament to the work you had done and the relationships you had built across Prythian and beyond. The trunk was heavy, filled with years of history, and as you opened it, a faint smell of parchment and ink greeted you.

You pulled out the first stack of papers, your fingers brushing over the familiar seals and signatures. Some of these documents were contracts for weapons forged, others were letters of correspondence with clients and contacts from various courts and even from the continent beyond Prythian. As you spread the papers out on the table, you realized just how extensive your network had become over the years.

There were letters from the Winter Court, where you had developed a rapport with Kallias, the High Lord. Others from the Day Court, where your craftsmanship had earned you a place of respect among Helion’s advisors. And even more from smaller courts and regions on the continent, places where your name had traveled far and wide, carried on the reputation of your skill.

This was more than just a collection of old documents—this was a wealth of connections that could be invaluable to Rhysand and the Night Court. You had always been a solitary figure, preferring to work in the shadows, but now you saw the potential to use these relationships for something greater. You could be an emissary of sorts, a bridge between the Night Court and the rest of the world.

As you sifted through the papers, you made notes on the most promising contacts, jotting down names and places that you thought might be of interest to Rhysand. It would take time to go through everything, to organize it all in a way that made sense, but you had the week to do it. And it felt good to have a purpose, something to focus on that wasn’t tied to the grief you had been carrying.

The work was meticulous, but it was also comforting in its own way. With each letter you read, each contract you reviewed, you felt a little bit of the old you returning—a reminder of the skilled, capable person you had always been. And with each name you wrote down, you felt a renewed sense of determination to help the Night Court in any way you could.

This was your way of moving forward, of honoring Alex’s memory by continuing the work you had started, by building something that could make a difference. And as the hours passed and the sun climbed higher in the sky, you found yourself lost in the task, the pain of the past few weeks receding, replaced by a quiet, steady focus.

By the time the day drew to a close, you had a sizable stack of notes and contacts—names that you knew would be valuable to Rhysand as he worked to strengthen the Night Court’s alliances. It was only the beginning, but it felt like a good one. And as you looked over your work, a small sense of satisfaction settled in your chest.

You still had a long way to go, both in your recovery and in your work, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were on the right path. 

---

The week continued to pass in a blur of paperwork and quiet solitude. You had buried yourself in the task of organizing your old contracts and letters, finding solace in the familiar routine of work. The process was slow, methodical, and it allowed you to keep your mind occupied, to push aside the grief that still lingered at the edges of your thoughts.

One afternoon, as you were sifting through a particularly old stack of documents, you realized that you needed a specific contract that you were sure was stored downstairs in the shop. It had been a while since you’d ventured down there, the memories of Alex and Sellan still too fresh, but you knew it was necessary.

With a deep breath, you made your way down the stairs, the cool air of the shop greeting you as you stepped inside. The space was quiet, still filled with the echoes of the life that had once thrived there. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes lingering on the forge that had gone cold, the tools that lay unused on the workbench.

As you moved toward the storage area, a sudden knock at the shop door startled you. You turned, surprised to see Cassian standing there, his broad frame filling the doorway. His expression was one of warmth and concern, and the sight of him brought a small, genuine smile to your face.

“Cassian,” you greeted, quickly moving to open the door. “What a surprise.”

He grinned, pulling you into a warm, comforting hug the moment the door was open. His embrace was strong, reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing in his arms. “I was in the area and thought I’d drop by to see how you were doing,” he said, releasing you from the hug but keeping a hand on your shoulder as he looked at you with concern. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s been… a process,” you admitted, your smile softening as you stepped aside to let him in. “But I’m getting there. Slowly.”

Cassian nodded, his expression understanding as he followed you inside. “That’s good to hear. I’ve been thinking about you, wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You felt a warmth in your chest at his words, touched by his concern. “Thank you, Cassian. It’s really nice to see you.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he took in the shop around him. “It’s nice to see you too. How about we go upstairs and catch up?”

You nodded, leading the way up to your apartment. The climb up the stairs was filled with a comfortable silence, and when you reached the living room, you noticed Cassian’s eyes immediately went to the paperwork spread out across your desk.

“What’s all this?” he asked, curiosity lacing his tone as he gestured to the stacks of documents.

You glanced at the desk, a small, proud smile tugging at your lips. “After the meeting with Rhys and everyone, I decided to go through all of my old paperwork. I’m trying to find old contacts and anything interesting that could be useful for the Night Court. I figured it would be a good way to keep myself busy and maybe help out at the same time.”

Cassian’s expression softened with approval as he listened. “That’s a great idea, Y/N. I’m sure Rhys will appreciate any information you can dig up.”

“I hope so,” you said, reaching for a jacket as you prepared to leave the apartment. “It’s been a lot of work, but it feels good to be doing something productive.”

Cassian watched as you shrugged into your jacket, his expression thoughtful. “How about we take a break from all this?” he suggested, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “I was going to ask if you’d like to go out for lunch with me. I think you could use a little fresh air and a change of scenery.”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, feeling a sense of gratitude for his offer. “I’d like that,” you replied, offering him a smile. “Let’s go.”

The two of you left the apartment, the crisp air of Velaris greeting you as you stepped outside. The city was alive with its usual hustle and bustle, but there was a sense of peace in the air, a comfort in the familiar sights and sounds.

As you walked side by side with Cassian, you felt a small sense of relief—an acknowledgment that, despite everything, life was continuing. The memories of Alex and the pain of his loss were still there, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming as they had before. With Cassian’s presence, and the promise of lunch and laughter, you felt like you were taking another step forward in your healing journey.

And as the two of you made your way to a nearby café, you allowed yourself to relax, to enjoy the moment, knowing that you were surrounded by people who cared for you—people who were helping you find your way back to the light.

The place Cassian had chosen was one of your favorites, a cozy little place nestled in a quiet corner of Velaris. Despite the winter chill, the outdoor terrace was still a popular spot, with tables set under the shelter of heated canopies that kept the cold at bay. Snow lightly dusted the streets, adding a magical touch to the city, and you found yourself smiling as you and Cassian settled into your seats, the warmth from the nearby heaters creating a comfortable cocoon against the brisk air.

Cassian picked up the menu and glanced over it with a playful grin. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I might just order one of everything.”

You laughed, the sound coming more easily than it had in weeks. “You’d better not, or I’ll have to roll you back to the House of Wind.”

Cassian chuckled, his grin widening. “You’re probably right. Besides, I don’t want to scare the poor kitchen staff.”

The two of you placed your orders, Cassian opting for a hearty stew with fresh-baked bread, while you chose a warm dish of roasted winter vegetables and a creamy soup to ward off the cold. Once the server had taken your menus and left, Cassian leaned back in his chair, studying you with a playful smile.

“So,” he began, his tone casual but with an underlying curiosity, “how are things going with Az?”

You felt your cheeks warm slightly at the mention of Azriel, but you managed a smile, taking a sip of your hot tea before answering. “They’re… good. Really good, actually. He’s been amazing—supportive, patient. I don’t know what I would have done without him these past few weeks.”

Cassian nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “That sounds like Az, alright. He’s always been the reliable one, the one who’ll be there for you when you need him most. I’m glad he’s been there for you, Y/N.”

You smiled, feeling a warm flush of gratitude for both Azriel and Cassian. “He really has been. I’m lucky to have him in my life.”

Cassian’s grin turned a bit more teasing as he leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “So… has he finally worked up the nerve to tell you how he feels, or is he still tiptoeing around it?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Let’s say that we’re taking things slow, which is exactly what I need right now.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully, though the teasing glint never left his eyes. “Slow and steady wins the race, right? But knowing Az, he’s probably all in already—just waiting for the right moment.”

Before you could respond, the server returned with your meals, setting the steaming bowls in front of you. The warmth of the food, combined with the scent of fresh bread and hearty stew, made you feel even more at ease.

“Mmm,” Cassian hummed appreciatively as he dug into his stew. “I swear, Velaris has the best food in all of Prythian. I could eat like this every day.”

You smiled, savoring your own dish. “It’s one of the perks of living here, that’s for sure.”

Cassian took another hearty bite before glancing at you, his expression shifting to something a bit more serious, though still light-hearted. “So, tell me about this project you’ve been working on. Going through all your old contacts, huh? Rhys mentioned you were thinking of putting your connections to use for the Night Court.”

You nodded, setting down your spoon as you considered how best to explain. “Yeah, after our meeting, I started going through all the paperwork I’ve accumulated over the years—contracts, letters, that sort of thing. I’ve had a lot of dealings with other courts, and I thought it might be useful to see if there are any connections we can leverage for the Night Court’s benefit.”

Cassian looked impressed, nodding as he chewed thoughtfully. “That’s a smart move. With your reputation and the relationships you’ve built, you could open a lot of doors for us. So, what do you think? Which court would be the most profitable to work with?”

You took a moment to consider your answer, reflecting on the many contacts you’d reviewed over the past week. “I think the Day Court has the most potential,” you said slowly. “Helion’s court is rich in resources, and they’re very open to trade and alliances. Plus, I’ve done a lot of work for them in the past, so there’s already a foundation of trust there.”

Cassian nodded, his expression thoughtful as he considered your words. “That makes sense. Helion’s always been pretty straightforward in his dealings. And the Day Court’s resources could definitely bolster what we have here in the Night Court.”

He paused, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. “What about the other courts? Any of them seem like they could be beneficial, or are we talking about potential headaches?”

You smiled, appreciating his straightforwardness. “The Winter Court is another possibility. Kallias is cautious, but we’ve had a good working relationship. The Spring Court, though…” You trailed off, making a face. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t count on anything from them anytime soon.”

Cassian chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, Tamlin’s been more of a pain than anything else lately. Probably best to avoid that mess for now.”

The conversation continued in the same vein, light-hearted and easy, with Cassian peppering you with questions and making jokes that had you laughing more than you had in weeks. He was a natural at lifting your spirits, and by the time the meal was over, you felt a genuine sense of contentment.

As you both finished your meals and settled the bill, Cassian leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. “This was good, Y/N. I’m glad we got to do this.”

You smiled warmly at him, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. “Me too, Cassian. Thank you for taking me out—I really needed this.”

He waved a hand dismissively, though the warmth in his eyes told you he was genuinely pleased. “Anytime, Y/N. And if you ever need to get out again, just let me know. I’m always up for a good meal and some quality time with a friend.”

You nodded, feeling lighter than you had in days. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As you both stood and made your way back out into the snow-dusted streets of Velaris, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a sense that, despite everything, you were going to be okay. And with friends like Cassian and Azriel by your side, you knew that you wouldn’t have to face the challenges ahead alone.

Cassian glanced at you with a smirk playing on his lips.

“So, Y/N,” he began with a mischievous glint in his eye, “next time Azriel asks you out on a proper date, make sure to let me know.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Why?”

“Because I want to be there to see if he finally cracks a smile. We’ve had a running bet for years—Mor says it’ll happen eventually, but I’m still not convinced his face can do it.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. And if he does, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

Cassian grinned, satisfied. “Perfect. I could use a new coat with the winnings.”

As the two of you continued down the snow-dusted streets of Velaris, the conversation shifted back to your work, the weight of what you were doing for the Night Court settling comfortably between you.

“By the way Cassian,” you began, glancing over at him, “do you think it would be possible for me to meet with Rhys by the end of the week? Azriel won’t be back yet, and I’d really like to discuss everything I’ve been working on.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully, his breath visible in the cold air. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure Rhys would appreciate the update—and honestly, he could use the break from whatever crazy scheme Amren’s got him wrapped up in this time.”

You chuckled, but then gave him a sidelong glance. “You sure you’re not just saying that because you want to watch me try to navigate the House of Wind’s stairs on my own?”

Cassian grinned, the familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Well, now that you mention it, it would be pretty entertaining. But no, I’ll make sure you get there without needing a rescue mission. Plus, it’ll be good for Rhys to hear directly from you about all the work you’re putting in.”

You smiled, relieved. “Thanks, Cassian. I appreciate it.”

He gave you a light nudge with his elbow. “No problem. Besides, it’ll be a nice change of pace from watching Az brood about you being gone all week.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “If he’s brooding, it’s probably because he’s just missing a chance to get back at you for all the bets you make about him.”

Cassian chuckled. “Touché. But hey, it’s all in good fun. I’ll make sure to keep things interesting until he’s back—just to give him something to look forward to.”

The two of you shared a grin as you continued walking, the easy camaraderie between you making the cold winter day feel a little warmer.

——

Two days had passed since your lunch with Cassian, and the hours had flown by in a blur of paperwork and sorting. As the sun began to set, casting a soft amber glow through the windows, you found yourself finally nearing the end of your task. The table that had been buried under stacks of old contracts and letters was now almost clear, save for a few last items you were carefully organizing into neat piles.

A sense of accomplishment settled over you as you wiped down the table, the scent of fresh parchment and a faint trace of ink lingering in the air. You were just about to sit down and relax when a sudden knock on the door startled you.

Curious, you made your way to the door and opened it, only to be greeted by the bright, beaming smile of Mor, who stood there holding a pack of wine bottles.

“Surprise!” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since Az isn’t here to keep you company, I figured it was about time we had ourselves a proper girls’ night. And what better way to do that than with a few bottles of wine?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the warmth in your chest spreading at the sight of her. “Mor, you’re a lifesaver. I was just thinking I could use a break.”

Mor grinned and stepped inside, making herself at home as she placed the wine bottles on the table. “Exactly! And besides, I’m tired of being one of the only girls in this merry band of males. It’s about time we have some fun, just us. I’m so glad you’re here now.”

Your heart swelled at her words, feeling an even deeper connection to the Inner Circle. You grabbed some wine glasses from the kitchen, along with a selection of snacks—cheese, bread, and fruit—and set them out on the table, clearing away the last of the paperwork to make room.

As you poured the first glass of wine, Mor settled onto the couch, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beneath her. “So, Y/N, tell me,” she began with a gleam in her eye, “how are you settling into this mad little family of ours? You’re practically one of us now.”

You handed her a glass and took a seat beside her, smiling as you took a sip of the rich, red wine. “It’s been… a lot,” you admitted with a chuckle. “But I’m getting there. It’s nice to feel like I belong somewhere again.”

Mor’s smile softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You do belong here, Y/N. We’re all so glad to have you. And honestly, I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along for ages. Do you know how exhausting it is to be the only one dealing with these boys?”

You laughed, nodding. “I can imagine! They do seem like a handful.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Mor groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “The things I’ve had to witness… And don’t even get me started on the pranks. You’d think they were teenagers instead of centuries-old warriors.”

You both dissolved into laughter, the sound filling the cozy space of your apartment. As the evening wore on, the wine flowed freely, and the conversation drifted from one topic to another—everything from your first impressions of Velaris to the wild escapades Mor had gotten into over the years.

“Speaking of wild escapades,” Mor said with a mischievous grin, leaning closer as if to share a secret, “have I ever told you about the time I ended up in the Summer Court with nothing but a pair of sandals and a very questionable disguise?”

You nearly choked on your wine as you tried to suppress your laughter. “What? No, you haven’t! You have to tell me everything.”

Mor launched into the story, painting a vivid picture of a particularly wild night that involved sneaking into a Summer Court festival, an accidental dip in the ocean, and narrowly avoiding a very awkward encounter with one of the Summer Court’s high-ranking nobles. By the time she finished, you were both in stitches, tears of laughter streaming down your cheeks.

“Honestly,” Mor sighed, wiping at her eyes, “I don’t know how I get myself into these situations. But I guess that’s part of the fun, right? Life would be pretty boring if we didn’t have a few stories to tell.”

You nodded in agreement, still grinning from ear to ear. “You’ve got a point. Though I’m not sure I could ever top that one.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Mor teased, raising her glass in a toast. “You’ve got plenty of time to make some wild memories of your own. And trust me, with this group, it’s bound to happen.”

You clinked your glass against hers, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the wine. The night continued in the same vein, filled with laughter, gossip, and stories about past adventures. Mor shared tales of her travels across Prythian, the people she’d met, and the chaos she’d left in her wake.

At one point, the conversation turned to the boys—Cassian’s ridiculous antics, Rhysand’s endless charm, and Azriel’s mysterious ways. But you steered clear of any serious talk about Azriel, focusing instead on the lighter, more humorous side of things.

“Oh, and did I ever tell you about the time Cassian tried to convince Rhys that he could outdrink a dragon?” Mor said, giggling as she refilled your glass.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “No, but now I have to know.”

Mor launched into the tale with enthusiasm, and soon you were both doubled over with laughter at the thought of Cassian’s wild antics and Rhys’s exasperated reaction. The stories kept coming, each one funnier than the last, and with each passing hour, you felt more and more at ease, the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting from your shoulders.

As the night progressed and the wine continued to flow, the conversation between you and Mor grew even more animated. The two of you were leaning into each other, giggling like schoolgirls as the topic turned to gossip—one of Mor’s favorite pastimes.

“So, tell me, Y/N,” Mor began, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she took another sip of her wine, “have you heard the latest about Helion?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “No, I haven’t. What’s he up to now?”

Mor leaned in closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a juicy secret. “Apparently, he’s been spending a lot of time in the Dawn Court lately. And not just for political reasons, if you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Helion? In the Dawn Court? What’s he up to?”

Mor leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “Word is, he’s been getting cozy with one of the High Lord's court ladies. You know, the ones that somehow manage to survive his moods. Apparently, Helion’s been charming the pants off her—literally.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the image of the ever-charming Helion working his magic in the usually dour Dawn Court. “Well, I guess that explains why he’s been so eager to make trips to the Dawn Court lately. Can’t say I blame him for wanting a change of scenery.”

As the gossip continued, the topics ranged from who was secretly pining after whom, to the latest fashion disasters at the courts, and even a few hilarious mishaps involving magic gone wrong.

At one point, Mor leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she shared a particularly scandalous tidbit. “And did you hear about that time Rhys accidentally turned Cassian’s hair bright pink during a training session? Cass was furious, and Rhys spent the next week avoiding him at all costs.”

You gasped, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Bright pink? Oh, I wish I could’ve seen that!”

Mor giggled, nodding. “It was priceless. Cassian tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, but you could tell he was plotting his revenge. Rhys had to sleep with one eye open for weeks.”

As the night wore on, the wine bottles gradually emptied, and you both found yourselves sprawled out on the couch, your legs tangled together as you continued to talk and laugh. The room was filled with a sense of warmth and camaraderie, the kind that only comes from spending time with someone who truly understands you.

By the time the clock struck midnight, you were both pleasantly tipsy, your conversation slowing as the wine and the late hour began to take their toll.

“I’m really glad we did this,” you said softly, your head resting against the back of the couch as you looked over at Mor. “I needed it more than I realized.”

Mor smiled, her eyes soft with affection. “So did I. We’ll have to make this a regular thing. The boys can have their battles and their plans, but we’ll have our wine and our gossip.”

“Deal,” you agreed with a grin, feeling a deep sense of contentment as you clinked your glass against hers one last time.

As the night finally wound down, Mor helped you clear the table and gather the empty bottles, both of you still giggling over the stories that had been shared. When she finally left, you walked her to the door, the warmth of your newfound friendship lingering long after she was gone.

And as you returned to the quiet of your apartment, a smile still tugging at your lips, you couldn’t help but feel grateful—for Mor, for the Inner Circle, and for the sense of belonging that had slowly but surely found its way back into your life.

---

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 11

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 5k

warning; grief, mention of death, smut.

notes; Enjoy this chapter ;))

here is the link for part 10 or part 12

---

The walk back from the grove was slow, each step heavy with the lingering weight of your grief. The snow continued to fall gently around you, muffling the sounds of the world and casting a soft, white blanket over the city. By the time you reached the shop, the sun had set, leaving the streets of Velaris bathed in the soft glow of lanterns.

As you stood in front of the door to your apartment, you hesitated, your hand resting on the cold, wooden handle. The memories of Alex, of the life you had shared with him in this space, flooded your mind, and for a moment, you considered turning back, retreating to the safety of the past.

But something inside you shifted—a small, but powerful determination that had been sparked during your time at the grave. You knew Alex wouldn’t want you to remain trapped in the past, drowning in sorrow. He would want you to move forward, to live, to find a way to heal.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The apartment was quiet, almost eerily so. The stillness of the space pressed in on you, amplifying the emptiness that had settled there since Alex’s death. The air was thick with the scent of dust and old memories, a lingering reminder of everything that had been lost.

But as you stood in the doorway, taking in the state of the apartment, something else began to stir within you—a resolve to reclaim this space, to cleanse it of the pain and grief that had taken root here. You had lost so much, but this was still your home, and it was time to make it a place of peace once more.

You pulled off your coat and hung it by the door, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you began to move through the apartment, your steps purposeful and deliberate. The first thing you did was open every window, letting the cold, crisp air flood the rooms, chasing away the stale scent of grief. The fresh air was a shock to your system, invigorating, as if it were cleansing not just the space but your soul as well.

You started with the living room, your hands moving with a determined energy as you cleared away the clutter that had accumulated over the past weeks. Every item you touched brought with it a memory—a book Alex had been reading, a blanket he had curled up under, the small toys and trinkets he had collected. Each one was a reminder of the life that had once filled this space, but instead of letting the memories drag you down, you carefully sorted through them, deciding which to keep and which to let go.

The things you chose to keep, you set aside gently, reverently, knowing they would be cherished keepsakes of the boy who had meant so much to you. The rest, you carefully packed away, not out of a desire to forget, but out of a need to move forward, to create a new chapter in your life.

Next, you moved to the kitchen, scrubbing down every surface, every corner, until the space gleamed with a cleanliness that felt like a fresh start. You found yourself humming softly as you worked, a melody that Alex had once loved, and though it brought tears to your eyes, it also brought a sense of comfort, as if he were still with you in some small way.

The bedroom was the hardest. Alex’s bed, still unmade from the last time you had slept in it, stood as a painful reminder of his absence. You stood there for a long time, staring at the small, rumpled sheets, your heart aching with the loss. But then, with a deep breath, you gently stripped the bed, folding the blankets and tucking them away with the other keepsakes.

You remade the bed with fresh sheets, smoothing the fabric with careful hands, and as you did, you whispered a quiet goodbye, feeling a sense of closure begin to settle over you. It wasn’t the end of your grief—far from it—but it was a step, a small, but significant step toward healing.

As you continued to clean, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift, the act of reclaiming your space becoming a cathartic release. The apartment, once filled with the echoes of sorrow, began to feel lighter, more like a home again. The process was slow, and there were moments when the memories threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed through, driven by the desire to create a space where you could begin to heal.

By the time you finished, the apartment was transformed. The air was fresh, the rooms were clean, and though the memories of Alex were still present, they no longer felt like a burden. Instead, they were a part of the space, a part of you, but no longer held the power to drown you in grief.

You stood in the center of the living room, taking in the quiet peace that had settled over the apartment. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of calm, a sense of control over your life. You had taken the first step, and though the road ahead was still long and uncertain, you knew that you had the strength to keep going.

As you moved to close the windows, the cold night air brushed against your skin, and you paused, leaning out slightly to take in the view of Velaris under the soft glow of the stars. The city was quiet, peaceful, and as you gazed out at the familiar streets, you felt a small spark of hope begin to take root in your heart.

You had lost so much, but you had also gained a new family in the Inner Circle, people who cared for you, who would stand by you as you navigated this difficult path. And then there was Azriel—the bond that connected you to him was still new, still raw, but it was there, a lifeline that had kept you from sinking completely into the darkness.

With one last deep breath, you closed the window and turned back to the room, feeling a sense of resolve settle over you. This was the beginning of a new chapter, a new journey toward healing. And though the road ahead would be difficult, you knew that you weren’t alone.

You would keep moving forward, one step at a time. For Alex. For yourself. And for the future that was still waiting for you.

After the apartment was finally cleaned and organized, you felt the exhaustion settle into your bones. The emotional and physical toll of the day had left you drained, and you knew you needed to take care of yourself, to find some small comfort in the midst of everything.

You made your way to your bedroom, where the soft light of the moon filtered in through the freshly cleaned windows, casting a gentle glow over the space. The room, now neat and orderly, felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could retreat and begin to mend the wounds that still bled inside you.

With a sigh, you moved toward the bathroom, deciding that a warm bath might help ease some of the tension that had built up in your muscles. The idea of soaking in hot water, letting the heat melt away the stress of the day, was appealing, and you found yourself looking forward to the brief escape it would provide.

You turned on the taps, watching as steam began to rise from the water, filling the room with a soothing warmth. The scent of lavender, from a small vial of bath oil that Alex had once picked out for you, filled the air, bringing with it a wave of bittersweet memories. But instead of turning away from them, you allowed yourself to remember, to cherish the small moments of joy that had been shared.

As the tub filled, you slowly undressed, the cool air of the room brushing against your skin as you shed the layers that had been weighing you down all day. When the bath was ready, you slipped into the water, letting out a sigh as the warmth enveloped you, soothing your aching muscles and easing the tightness in your chest.

You leaned back against the edge of the tub, closing your eyes as the heat seeped into your bones. For a while, you simply let yourself float in the quiet, letting your mind drift as you soaked in the calming warmth.

But as the minutes passed, your thoughts inevitably began to turn to Azriel. The shadowy, enigmatic male who had been your constant companion for the past few weeks, who had stood by you even when you had pushed everyone else away. The memory of his gentle kiss on your forehead earlier that day lingered, a soft warmth that contrasted with the cold emptiness that had settled in your heart.

Azriel had been there for you in ways that no one else had. He had seen you at your worst, held you when you thought you might break, and offered you the quiet strength you needed to keep going. He had never pressured you, never demanded anything of you—he had simply been there, a steady presence in a world that had been turned upside down.

You opened your eyes, staring up at the ceiling as the memories of the past weeks played out in your mind. Azriel had been the one to find you after Alex’s death, the one who had carried you through the darkness when you couldn’t find your own way. He had stayed with you, even when you had asked for space, always hovering on the edges, ready to offer support if you needed it.

And you had needed it. More than you had realized.

The bond between you, though still new and raw, had grown stronger with each passing day. You could feel it now, a faint, comforting presence at the back of your mind, like a soft whisper that reminded you that you weren’t alone. It was a connection that had become a lifeline, a source of comfort that you hadn’t expected, but one that you were beginning to rely on.

As you soaked in the warmth of the bath, your thoughts drifted back to the moments you had shared with Azriel—the quiet conversations, the way he had looked at you with such care and understanding, the way his touch had grounded you when you felt like you might be swept away by grief.

You realized, with a start, that you had begun to look forward to his visits, to the sound of his voice, to the comfort of his presence. Even now, as you lay in the bath, you found yourself thinking of him, wondering when he would come to see you, when you would feel that quiet connection once more.

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the first smile you had felt in what seemed like an eternity. It was a fragile thing, easily broken, but it was there, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you were beginning to heal.

You let out a soft sigh, your hand trailing through the water as you closed your eyes again, letting your thoughts drift back to Azriel. There was still so much to figure out, so much that was uncertain, but for the first time in weeks, you felt a small spark of hope. Maybe there was a way forward, a way to find happiness again, even in the midst of all the loss and pain.

And maybe, just maybe, that way forward included Azriel. The thought was both comforting and terrifying, but as you lay there, surrounded by the warmth of the bath and the scent of lavender, you allowed yourself to hold onto it, to let it settle into your heart alongside the grief.

You weren’t sure what the future held, but you knew one thing: you didn’t have to face it alone. Not anymore.

And for now, that was enough.

The warmth of the bath had left your skin flushed and your mind slightly clearer, though the lingering grief still weighed heavy on your heart. You had just wrapped yourself in a soft robe, your hair still damp and clinging to your neck, when a soft knock echoed through the apartment.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as you recognized the familiar presence on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, you moved to open it, finding Azriel standing there, his expression as unreadable as ever, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Azriel,” you greeted softly, stepping aside to let him in. 

He entered slowly, his gaze sweeping over the apartment. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he took in the transformation. The clutter and dust were gone, replaced by a sense of order and calm that hadn’t been there for weeks. The faint scent of lavender still hung in the air, mixing with the cold freshness of the night.

"You cleaned," he remarked, his tone gentle as he looked back at you.

You nodded, pulling the robe a little tighter around you. "I needed to. It was time."

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in your appearance, noticing the dampness of your hair and the way your skin still glowed from the warmth of the bath. There was something tender in his eyes as he observed you, as if he could see the small steps you were taking toward healing.

“I brought food,” he said, holding up a bag from one of the nearby restaurants. “I thought you might be hungry.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, the gesture almost feeling foreign after weeks of sorrow. “You didn’t have to. I could’ve cooked something.”

Azriel shook his head quickly, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t need to cook for me, Y/N. I’m fine. Let me take care of this.”

His words were so earnest, so filled with care, that you couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Okay, okay, no problem. Thank you.”

The two of you moved to the couch, settling in with the food Azriel had brought. The apartment was quiet, the only sounds the occasional clinking of cutlery and the muffled noises of the city outside. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; instead, it felt like a shared understanding, a space where words weren’t always necessary.

As you ate, you found yourself stealing glances at Azriel, noticing the way his presence brought a sense of peace to the room. He had been a constant in your life these past weeks, always there when you needed him, never pushing, never demanding. Just… there.

After a while, you put down your fork and turned to him, your voice soft but filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Azriel. For everything. For staying by my side when I wasn’t sure I could keep going.”

Azriel looked at you, his expression gentle, his shadows curling lightly around his shoulders as if they, too, were reaching out to you. “You don’t need to thank me. I wanted to be here. I care about you, Y/N. I always will.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten, the bond between you humming softly in the background of your mind, a comforting presence that you were beginning to accept, to lean on.

You offered him a small, genuine smile, the first real one in what felt like forever. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Azriel’s gaze softened even further, and he reached out, his hand resting lightly on top of yours. The touch was warm, grounding, and you felt a small flicker of something more than just comfort, something that you weren’t quite ready to name yet, but that was undeniably there.

“You’re stronger than you think, Y/N,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. “But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, for as long as you need me.”

You squeezed his hand lightly, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, soothing the raw edges of your grief. “Thank you, Azriel. That means more to me than you know.”

The two of you sat there, hand in hand, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you like a soft blanket. After finishing the meal, the quiet of the apartment settled in around you once more. The lingering warmth of the food and the comfort of Azriel’s presence left you feeling a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. The heavy burden of grief was still there, but it was softened, cushioned by the knowledge that you weren’t alone.

As you both sat on the couch, the silence between you became something warm and inviting. You found yourself leaning closer to Azriel, seeking the comfort of his presence. He didn’t hesitate, his arm lifting slightly to allow you to rest your head on his shoulder. The gesture was so natural, so easy, that it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

Azriel’s body tensed slightly at first, but then he relaxed, his warmth radiating through his clothing. You could feel his steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest soothing as you nestled closer. The smell of leather, pine, and something distinctly Azriel filled your senses, grounding you in the moment.

Without thinking, you reached out and gently took one of his hands in yours. You could feel him still beside you, his heartbeat quickening under your touch. Slowly, you brought his hand closer, your fingers tracing over the rough skin and the calluses that spoke of years of training and battles fought. His hands, though scarred and hardened by life, held a gentleness that belied their strength.

Azriel’s breath caught as your fingers continued their exploration, tracing the lines of his palm, brushing over the ridges of his knuckles. His shadows, usually so restless, seemed to calm, curling softly around you both as if embracing the moment.

You turned his hand over, studying it with a softness in your gaze that made Azriel’s heart race. “You’ve always been so careful with me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I was pushing everyone away… you stayed.”

Azriel’s voice was low and steady, but there was an unmistakable warmth in it. “I wanted to. I… I care about you, Y/N. I always will.”

The words were simple, but they carried a weight that settled deep in your heart. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you could see the depth of his feelings, the quiet intensity of his emotions that he so often kept hidden.

A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you continued to hold his hand, your fingers tracing small patterns on his skin. “I’m glad you did, Azriel. I’m so glad you stayed.”

Azriel swallowed, his free hand moving to gently rest on your knee, his touch light, almost hesitant. “I’ll always stay, Y/N. For as long as you want me here.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in them resonating with something deep inside you. You squeezed his hand, leaning closer to him, your head resting more comfortably on his shoulder. “Then stay,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with meaning. “Stay with me.”

Azriel’s heart pounded in his chest, the bond between you humming with quiet intensity. He turned his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your damp hair, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer than necessary. “Always,” he whispered back, the word a vow, a promise.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, the steady beat of his heart through his chest. The world outside could wait; in this moment, there was just you and Azriel, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence.

And as the night deepened, the two of you sat there, your hands intertwined, your hearts beating in sync, finding solace in the quiet connection that had grown between you. As you leaned into him, your heart fluttering softly, you felt the warmth of Azriel’s hand resting on your knee. His presence was a steady, calming force, grounding you in a way that you hadn't realized you needed. The soft glow of the dim light in the room made everything feel intimate, almost dreamlike, as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet moment.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with a gentle anticipation. The bond between you hummed softly, a warm thread that seemed to pull you closer together. Azriel’s dark eyes searched yours, as if seeking permission, seeking a sign that this was what you wanted too.

And it was. 

Without breaking the gaze, you shifted slightly, turning towards him. Your hand, still holding his, tightened its grip as you leaned in. Azriel’s breath hitched, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his heart raced beneath your fingertips. 

He leaned in too, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t want to pull away. You wanted to close the gap, to feel the warmth of his lips against yours.

And then, finally, you did.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But the moment your lips touched, something inside you both seemed to click into place. The world around you faded completely, leaving only the sensation of Azriel’s lips against yours, warm and gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

His free hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, tender, but there was a passion behind it, a need that had been building for far longer than either of you had realized.

You responded in kind, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more insistent, more real. The bond between you thrummed with approval, the connection between you both solidifying in a way that left no room for doubt.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, your foreheads rested against each other. Azriel’s eyes were dark, intense, filled with an emotion so raw and powerful that it made your heart ache in the best possible way.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling as you looked at him. “I’m here, Azriel. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand remained on your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Neither am I,” he whispered back, the words filled with a promise that you knew he would keep.

The kiss between you and Azriel deepened, the tender exploration quickly giving way to a more urgent need. Your hands roamed his chest under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips, while his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The air between you grew heavy with anticipation.

But then, as if realizing that this moment required something more than just the couch in the living room, Azriel paused, his dark eyes searching yours for permission. When you gave him a slight nod, he swiftly and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards your bedroom. The gesture was gentle, but there was a strength behind it that made your heart race.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the soft sheets cool against your heated skin. Your hands immediately went to the waistband of his pants, but he caught them gently, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and something deeper—something that made your chest tighten with emotion.

“Let me,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he slowly began to remove the last of your clothing, his fingers trailing over your skin as he did. The fabric fell away, leaving you exposed to him, but rather than feeling vulnerable, you felt… cherished. Azriel’s gaze was reverent, as if you were the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on.

He followed quickly, shedding most of his own clothing before joining you on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he leaned over you, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was both passionate and tender. The urgency from before was still there, but it was tempered by a deep, unspoken understanding that this moment was more than just physical.

Azriel’s hands began to explore your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he caressed your curves. His lips trailed from your mouth down to your neck, leaving a path of soft kisses that made your breath hitch in your throat. When he reached your breasts, he took his time, his hands and mouth lavishing attention on you in a way that made your body respond with a burning heat.

You gasped softly, your hands tangling in his hair as he teased your nipples with his tongue, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Azriel’s hand slid lower, his fingers grazing over your stomach before finding their way between your thighs. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, seeking permission once again.

You answered with a quiet moan, your hips instinctively tilting towards him, inviting his touch. Azriel’s eyes darkened with desire as he let his fingers slide over your folds, his touch gentle but deliberate as he began to explore you.

The sensation was overwhelming, your body reacting to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Azriel seemed to know exactly what you needed, his fingers moving with a skill that left you breathless. He circled your most sensitive spot, his touch driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then, just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he moved lower, his lips following the path his fingers had traced. You barely had time to react before you felt the warmth of his mouth against your most intimate place, his tongue flicking against you with a tenderness that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

Your back arched off the bed, a soft cry escaping your lips as Azriel’s tongue worked its magic. He was relentless, his movements precise, each flick of his tongue and gentle suck drawing you closer and closer to the precipice. The bond between you flared, pulsing with approval as he brought you higher and higher, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady.

When the release finally came, it was like a wave crashing over you, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it. Your hands clutched at the sheets, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Azriel continued to guide you through the aftershocks, his tongue slowing its movements but never stopping.

It wasn’t until you were trembling and spent that he finally pulled back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as you came down from the high. You lay there, your chest heaving, your mind spinning with the sheer intensity of what had just happened.

Azriel crawled up beside you, his body warm and solid as he pulled you into his arms. The world outside the bed seemed to fade away as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm, grounding you in the moment.

But even as you lay there, wrapped in his embrace, a wave of emotion welled up inside you. The events of the day—the burial, the memories, the grief—suddenly felt overwhelming, and before you knew it, soft tears began to slip down your cheeks.

Azriel noticed immediately, his arms tightening around you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that only made the tears fall faster. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his skin as you let out the pain that had been building inside you for weeks. It wasn’t just about the loss of Alex—it was about everything. The grief, the guilt, the fear of moving on, the fear of letting go. And through it all, Azriel held you, his presence a steady, unyielding support.

When the tears finally subsided, leaving you feeling raw but lighter, you looked up at him, your eyes red-rimmed and filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For being here… for everything.”

Azriel smiled softly, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “Always,” he murmured, his voice full of conviction. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth settle in your chest as you snuggled closer to him. The day had been long, the emotions heavy, but here, in Azriel’s arms, you felt a sense of peace that you hadn’t known in a long time.

The two of you lay there in the quiet, your breathing slowly evening out as the exhaustion of the day caught up with you. Azriel’s hand gently stroked your hair, his touch soothing, and it wasn’t long before your eyes began to droop, sleep pulling you under.

Just before you drifted off, you heard Azriel’s voice, soft and full of emotion. “I care about you so much, Y/N. More than you know.”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, but you squeezed his hand, letting him know you heard him, that you felt the same. And as you finally succumbed to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift, replaced by the comforting knowledge that you didn’t have to face the darkness alone.

---

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don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

[fr0stf4ll]

Hey friend, i thought i would shoot my shot at a request that just popped into my mind. Kinda based off the saying "the way to a mans heart is through his stomach." Its a azriel x reader where she owns a few reastaurants in Prythian. Elain stumbles upon one of them and befriends reader, elain tells her shes trying to get the attention of a male and reader is like so excited to help her. They quickly become the best of friends as Elain comes back every so often to gossip about this male that shes smitten about and how he loooves the food and she thinks its working. Elain brings said male to have dinner at your restaurant and introduces him as Azriel, when his hand meets yours in a handshake the bond snaps for both of you. Angst! Reader feels she cant accept cuz of her friendship with elain and immediatley shuts down all of Az advances. Az tries to push forward from the moment the bond snaps, even asking reader on a date after dinner with Elain. Az tells reader she only has Elains side of the story, not his! And Az side could be that Elain has been with Lucien and they recently fought and she was just using Az to get him jealous and all her advances were unwanted (and he would never say no to free food idk lol ), or you could make up something else lol. Angsty with a happy ending, we love Az chasing after reader 😏😏. Obviously if this doesnt spark the creative juices i totally understand, you also have free will to change whatever you like.😊😊😊

Ooohhh I love that, I will try to work on it ! Thank you for the request <333

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 10

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.7k

warning; grief, mention of death and dead body.

notes; well apologies need to be told for the last chapter everyone. I'm sorry ;))) Still hope that you will like this chapter, please look at the warnings some people might be sensitive to the topics. Love <33

here is the link for part 9 or part 11

---

The shop had been silent for weeks. The usual warmth that radiated from the forge, the rhythmic clang of the hammer against steel, the cheerful voice of a young boy eagerly trying to sell every weapon in sight—it was all gone. The life that once pulsed through the place had faded, leaving only a cold, hollow emptiness.

A small, handwritten panel hung on the door, swaying gently in the breeze:

"Closed, come and see us another time ;))"

The smiley face at the end of the note was a cruel reminder of the life that had once filled this place, a mockery of the joy that had been ripped away. Now, the shop stood dead—no heat from the forge, no sound of work, no laughter.

Inside, the atmosphere was just as cold. The forge had long since cooled, the tools lay untouched, and the once vibrant displays of weapons now seemed to gather dust, lifeless in the dim light that filtered through the windows.

You had retreated to the back of the shop, to the small apartment that had once been a sanctuary for you and Alexander. But even there, the silence was deafening. The only place you could find any semblance of comfort was in Alex’s bed, where you had wrapped yourself in his blankets, trying desperately to hold onto the last traces of his scent. It was faint now, barely there, but you clung to it as if it were a lifeline.

The pain was a constant, gnawing ache that never seemed to ease. Every breath felt heavy, every heartbeat a reminder of the one that had stopped. Alex was gone, and with him, it felt like a piece of your soul had been ripped away, leaving behind a gaping wound that refused to heal.

Azriel had been by your side throughout it all. He came to the shop every day, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, watching over you with a silent vigil. He had offered his comfort, his presence, but there were no words that could fill the void left by Alex’s absence.

He didn’t press you to talk, didn’t push you to move or eat. He simply stayed, his own heart heavy with the bond that had snapped into place during the most horrific moment of both your lives. It was as if he understood that the only thing he could offer was his quiet companionship, a presence that grounded you even as you felt like you were falling apart.

But everything was so hard now.

The simplest tasks—getting out of bed, eating, even breathing—felt like monumental efforts, each one requiring more strength than you thought you had left. Some days, you couldn’t even bring yourself to move, lying in Alex’s bed, surrounded by his things, trying to hold onto the memory of him for just a little longer.

Azriel would sit beside you during those times, not saying a word, his hand occasionally reaching out to brush against yours, a silent reminder that he was there, that you weren’t alone. But even his presence, comforting as it was, couldn’t erase the pain.

The grief was suffocating, a heavy blanket that wrapped around you, making it impossible to see beyond the loss. And yet, despite the overwhelming darkness, there was a small part of you that clung to Azriel’s presence, a flicker of something that refused to be snuffed out entirely.

But it was hard. So incredibly hard.

There were moments when you thought about getting up, about leaving the bed and trying to find some semblance of normalcy, but the thought of facing the world without Alex was too much to bear. The world felt cold, unforgiving, and you weren’t sure if you had the strength to step back into it.

So you stayed in Alex���s bed, wrapped in his scent, in the memories of the boy who had been your everything. And Azriel stayed with you, his silent company the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, even as the world felt like it was slipping away.

It had been weeks, and the shop was dead.

Completely dead.

And you weren’t sure if it—or you—would ever come back to life.

As the heavy silence settled over the shop, memories of that fateful day began to resurface, unbidden and relentless, pulling back to the moment when everything had changed.

Azriel’s hands trembled as he used his shadows to gently wrap Alex’s small, lifeless body. The thick material of his cloak, normally used to conceal and protect, now served as a shroud for the boy who had been so full of life. Azriel’s shadows, usually a source of strength and power, now felt like a burden as they took on the solemn duty of carrying the boy's body.

As the shadows lifted Alex’s body, cocooned in the cloak, Azriel felt a deep, wrenching pain in his chest. The flames that had once flickered so fiercely in your eyes were now extinguished, leaving only an empty void that Azriel could barely comprehend. He couldn’t bear to look at you, the way your face was drained of color, your eyes hollow and fixed straight ahead as you hovered beside him in the air.

The flight back to Velaris was slow, agonizingly slow, every beat of Azriel’s wings heavy with grief. His shadows carried Alex’s body with the utmost care, as if even in death, the boy deserved the gentleness that had once filled his life. Azriel kept glancing at you, hoping for some sign that you were still there, still present, but your expression was unreadable, lost somewhere far away from him.

When you finally landed in front of the townhouse, you didn’t wait for Azriel. You turned on your heel and walked away, your steps unsteady but resolute. You didn’t say a word, didn’t look back, as you made your way through the quiet streets of Velaris, heading directly to your apartment above the shop.

Azriel watched you go, torn between following you and respecting your need for space. “Y/N,” he called out softly, his voice heavy with sorrow and helplessness.

You paused for the briefest moment, your back still turned to him, before shaking your head. “I need to be alone, Azriel. Please… just give me some time.”

The finality in your voice struck him like a blow. He wanted to argue, to tell you that you didn’t have to go through this alone, that he was here for you, and would always be here for you. But he knew better than to push. He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it, and watched as you disappeared into the darkness.

Azriel stood there for a long time, his shadows still cradling Alex’s body as if trying to shield the boy from the cruel reality of death. The streets of Velaris were silent around him, a stark contrast to the chaos that raged in his mind. The bond, newly formed and searingly powerful, pulsed with a pain that left him breathless.

With a heavy heart, he finally turned and made his way into the townhouse, where he knew Rhysand and the others were waiting.

As Azriel entered the townhouse, the warmth that usually greeted him felt distant, as though the very air had chilled in sympathy with his grief. Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor were gathered in the sitting room, their faces etched with concern and sorrow. They had been waiting for him, and the moment he stepped inside, their eyes were drawn to the shadows that carried the small, wrapped bundle.

Azriel’s shadows, usually vibrant with life and energy, were subdued, almost mournful as they carefully placed Alex’s body on a nearby table. They lingered there, curling protectively around the small form before slowly retreating, leaving only the cloak-shrouded body behind.

Rhysand was the first to speak, his voice low and controlled, though Azriel could hear the strain in it. “What happened?”

Azriel took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he recounted the events. He told them about the fight in the clearing, about the dark ritual that had drained Alex’s life force, about the cruel man who had orchestrated it all. But when he spoke about you, about how you had cradled Alex’s body in his final moments, his voice faltered.

“She… she’s broken, Rhys,” Azriel said quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve never seen her like this. I don’t know how to help her.”

Cassian’s fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury. “Who did this? Who’s responsible?”

Azriel shook his head, his shadows shifting restlessly. “I don’t know. He was there, taunting her, but he vanished before we could stop him. He said… he said the power inside her wasn’t meant for her, that it was supposed to be taken from her. And Alex… he was a part of that.”

Rhysand’s expression darkened, his hands curling into fists as he processed the information. “This is bigger than we thought. We need to find out who this man is and what he wants.”

Azriel nodded, but his mind was only half on the conversation. The other half was with you, alone in your apartment, surrounded by memories of the boy who had meant everything to you. He wanted to go to you, to hold you, to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was there for you.

But the bond…

The bond had snapped into place during Alex’s final moments, but you hadn’t felt it. You were too consumed by your grief, too lost in the agony of losing someone you had loved like a son. Azriel could feel it, the mating bond humming in the background of his mind, a constant reminder of the connection between you. But it was tainted by the pain of what had happened, by the guilt of not being able to save Alex, of not being able to spare you from this suffering.

“I need to be with her,” Azriel said finally, his voice raw. “She asked for time, but… I can’t just leave her alone.”

Rhysand’s gaze softened, understanding flashing in his violet eyes. “She’ll need you, Az. Maybe not right now, but soon. Give her the space she needs, but be there when she’s ready. She’s strong, but no one should go through this alone.”

Cassian stepped forward, his hand resting on Azriel’s shoulder, offering silent support. “We’ll figure this out. Whoever did this won’t get away with it. But right now, she needs you to be there for her, in whatever way she’ll allow.”

Azriel nodded, though the uncertainty still gnawed at him. He knew they were right, knew that you would need him eventually. But the bond… it was there, pulsing with every beat of his heart, a reminder that you were his mate, that you were tied to him in a way that neither of you could ignore forever.

But for now, all he could do was wait. Wait for you to come to terms with your grief, wait for you to find your way back to him. And in the meantime, he would be there, watching over you, protecting you, even if it meant staying in the shadows, just out of reach.

As the conversation with Rhysand and Cassian continued, Azriel’s thoughts kept drifting back to you, to the pain he had seen in your eyes, to the way you had cradled Alex’s body as if you could somehow bring him back.

The bond pulsed again, a painful reminder of what he had gained and lost all at once.

And all he could do was wait.

The soft light of the setting sun filtered through the windows of the townhouse, casting long shadows across the room. Azriel stood near the hearth, his posture rigid, his hands clenched at his sides as he stared into the flickering flames. The silence between him and Rhysand was heavy, filled with unspoken words and the weight of the truth that Azriel had been grappling with since the moment the bond had snapped into place.

Rhysand watched him from where he sat, his usual air of calm authority tinged with concern as he studied his brother. He could sense the turmoil roiling within Azriel, the conflicting emotions that were tearing him apart. Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Rhysand spoke.

"Az, what’s going on? You’ve been… different since you came back. Distant."

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the fire as if it held the answers to the questions that had been plaguing him. His shadows, usually so controlled, flickered restlessly around him, a reflection of the storm inside his mind.

"I didn’t want it to happen like this," Azriel finally said, his voice low and rough, filled with a pain that he had been trying to suppress. "Not like this, not when she’s already suffering so much."

Rhysand’s brow furrowed in concern, leaning forward slightly. "What happened, Az? What aren’t you telling me?"

Azriel turned away from the fire, his expression tormented as he met Rhysand’s gaze. "The bond… it snapped into place when Alex died. She’s my mate, Rhys."

Rhysand’s eyes widened slightly, the shock evident in his expression. For a moment, he was silent, processing the weight of Azriel’s words. The bond was something sacred, something that connected two souls in a way that was unbreakable, undeniable. But to have it snap into place in such a moment of profound grief…

"Az…" Rhysand began, his voice softening as he tried to grasp the full impact of what Azriel had just confessed. "Does she know?"

Azriel shook his head, the pain in his chest tightening as he spoke. "No. She doesn’t know. She couldn’t… she was too consumed by grief, too lost in the pain of losing Alex. I felt it, Rhys. I felt it with every fiber of my being, but she… she didn’t feel it. And now, I don’t know what to do."

Rhysand stood, moving closer to Azriel, his expression filled with empathy and understanding. "The bond is powerful, Az. But so is grief. She’s been through something unimaginable. It’s no wonder she didn’t feel it in that moment."

Azriel let out a shaky breath, his voice breaking as he continued. "I can’t bear to see her like this, Rhys. I’m supposed to protect her, to be there for her, but I feel like I’ve already failed. And now, with the bond… how can I expect her to accept it, to accept me, when she’s barely holding on?"

Rhysand placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Az, this isn’t your fault. You’ve done everything you could. You’ve been by her side, even when she pushed you away. The bond… it’s a gift, but it’s also a responsibility. And right now, your responsibility is to give her the space she needs to heal."

Azriel closed his eyes, the weight of Rhysand’s words sinking in. "But what if she never feels it? What if she never accepts it? How can I… how can I live with that?"

Rhysand’s voice was gentle, filled with the wisdom that came from centuries of experience. "If she’s truly your mate, Az, she’ll feel it when she’s ready. The bond doesn’t force itself—it waits until both souls are ready to accept it. Right now, she’s grieving. But when she’s ready, she’ll come to you."

Azriel opened his eyes, the shadows in them darker than ever. "And if she doesn’t?"

Rhysand’s expression softened, a note of sadness in his voice. "Then you’ll have to respect her choice. The bond is powerful, but it doesn’t override free will. If she chooses not to accept it… that’s something you’ll have to learn to live with. But I don’t think that’s what will happen."

Azriel nodded slowly, though the doubt and fear still gnawed at him. "I just… I don’t want to lose her, Rhys. Not before I’ve even had a chance to tell her what she means to me."

Rhysand squeezed his shoulder, offering what comfort he could. "You won’t lose her, Az. Give her time. Be there for her, as you’ve always been. The bond will reveal itself when the time is right."

Azriel swallowed hard, the pain in his chest easing just slightly as he nodded. "I hope you’re right, Rhys. I hope… she’ll find her way back to me."

Rhysand’s smile was faint, but there was confidence in his eyes. "She will, Az. She will.”

——

Two weeks had passed since that dreadful night, two weeks of unbearable silence and darkness. The shop remained closed, the warmth of the forge long gone, replaced by a chilling emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner. The air was heavy, oppressive, as if the walls themselves mourned the loss of the boy who had brought so much life to the place.

Today was the first day you had stepped outside since Alex’s death. The cold air bit at your skin as Azriel helped you down the steps of your apartment. Snow had begun to fall, delicate flakes drifting lazily from the sky, covering the streets of Velaris in a blanket of white. The world looked peaceful, serene, a stark contrast to the turmoil that raged within you.

Azriel’s presence beside you was a constant, quiet support. He had come to pick you up, knowing that today would be harder than anything you had faced since that night. He was dressed in a long, black coat, his usual leathers replaced by something more somber, more fitting for the occasion. His shadows, always hovering around him, seemed muted, as if they too understood the gravity of the day.

You wore a simple black cloak, the hood pulled up over your head, hiding your face from the world. You had barely slept these past two weeks, the dark circles under your eyes a testament to the nightmares that haunted you whenever you closed them. The light that had once sparkled in your eyes was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness that mirrored the grief in your heart.

The group had gathered near the outskirts of Velaris, in a small, secluded grove that overlooked the Sidra River. The place was beautiful, serene, with tall trees that stood like silent guardians over the clearing. Snow covered the ground in a soft layer, and the river flowed quietly nearby, its surface reflecting the overcast sky.

Rhysand, Mor, Cassian, and Amren were already there, dressed in dark, formal attire. Rhysand’s expression was somber, a deep sadness etched into his features. You knew that this moment struck a chord with him, reminding him of the loss of his mother and sister nearly fifty years ago. He had been trying to hold it together for your sake, but you could see the pain in his eyes, the empathy that came from a place of shared sorrow.

Mor stood beside him, her usual vivacity subdued as she watched you approach. Her eyes were filled with tears, though she blinked them away, trying to remain strong for you. Cassian stood with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched tightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Even Amren, who rarely showed much outward emotion, had a pained look in her eyes, her small frame seeming even smaller in the cold, quiet clearing.

Azriel led you to the center of the grove, where a small, simple grave had been prepared. It was nothing grand, just a small mound of earth, but it was surrounded by flowers that had been carefully laid by those who had come to say their goodbyes. The snow continued to fall, covering the flowers in a delicate layer of white, as if nature itself was mourning alongside you.

The silence was heavy as you stood there, staring down at the grave. You felt numb, detached, as if you were watching everything from a distance, your mind unable to fully comprehend the reality of what was happening.

Azriel’s hand rested lightly on your back, his touch gentle, offering comfort that you weren’t sure you could accept. But you didn’t move away. You couldn’t.

The others gathered around, forming a small circle around the grave. Rhysand stepped forward, his voice soft and filled with emotion as he spoke. “We gather here today to honor the life of Alexander, a boy who brought light and joy to all who knew him. He was taken from us far too soon, but his memory will live on in our hearts.”

You barely heard the words, your mind drifting as you stared at the grave, your thoughts consumed by the loss that had shattered your world. The death of Alex had left a void in your heart, a wound that refused to heal. But it wasn’t just his death that weighed on you—it was the loss of your powers, the flames that had once been a part of you, now gone, leaving you feeling empty and powerless.

Rhysand continued speaking, his voice steady despite the grief that weighed heavily on him. “We remember him not just as a friend, but as family. And though he is gone, he will always be with us, in our memories and in our hearts.”

As the final words were spoken, the group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts, their own memories of the boy who had touched their lives. The snow continued to fall, covering the ground in a pristine blanket, the world around you growing quieter with each passing moment.

You knelt beside the grave, your fingers brushing the cold, hard earth. The tears that had been trapped inside you finally began to fall, silent and steady, as you whispered a final goodbye to the boy who had meant everything to you.

Azriel knelt beside you, his presence a solid, unwavering support as you cried, the full weight of your grief finally breaking through the numbness that had consumed you. His hand rested on your shoulder, grounding you as you released the pain that had been building inside you for so long.

Rhysand watched, his own grief mirrored in his eyes as he saw the pain you were in, knowing all too well the agony of losing someone you loved. His gaze flickered to Azriel, a silent understanding passing between them.

As the snow continued to fall, you slowly rose from your knees, your body stiff and cold from the long vigil beside Alex's grave. You turned to face the small group that had gathered with you, their faces somber, reflecting the weight of the moment. Despite the overwhelming grief that threatened to pull you under, you managed to find the strength to offer them a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft but steady. "Thank you all for being here today. It means more to me than I can put into words. Alex… he would have been so touched to see all of you here, to know how much he was loved."

Rhysand, Mor, Cassian, and Amren nodded, each of them offering their own quiet gestures of support. Rhysand stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "We're here for you, Y/N. Whatever you need, we're here."

You gave him a grateful nod before turning to Azriel, who had been standing quietly by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort throughout the day. His dark eyes met yours, and for a moment, the bond between you, though unspoken, felt palpable.

Azriel leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips against your cold skin sent a shiver through you, not from the cold but from the tenderness of the gesture. "I'll come see you later tonight," he murmured, his voice filled with a gentle promise.

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. His presence had been your anchor in the storm of grief, and even now, as he prepared to leave, you felt that same sense of grounding, of connection. You watched as Azriel and the others slowly began to make their way back down the path, their figures fading into the falling snow until you were left alone in the quiet grove.

The silence was both comforting and heavy, the only sound the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots as you slowly sat down in front of Alex's grave. The cold seeped through your cloak, but you barely noticed it, your mind focused entirely on the small mound of earth before you.

For a long time, you simply sat there, staring at the grave, the memories of Alex flashing through your mind in a rapid, painful montage. The boy who had become your family, who had brought so much light into your life, was gone. And yet, sitting here, in this peaceful place, you felt closer to him than you had in the weeks since his death.

You took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs before you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry, Alex. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to protect you, that I couldn’t keep you safe. I know you wouldn’t want me to be like this, lost in my grief, but it’s so hard… so hard to keep going without you."

The snow continued to fall around you, the flakes gently landing on the grave, on your shoulders, on your face, like a soft, cold embrace. You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely as you continued to talk, as if Alex were still there, listening.

"I’ve been thinking a lot about you," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "About all the things we shared, all the dreams we had for the future. I wish… I wish you could be here with me now, that you could see the family I’ve found. The Inner Circle, they’re… they’re good people, Alex. They’ve taken me in, even when I didn’t think I could let anyone in. And Azriel…"

You paused, your breath catching in your throat as you thought of Azriel, the way he had been there for you, the way he had cared for you in your darkest moments. "Azriel has been so kind, so patient with me. He’s… he’s something special, Alex. I wish you could have known him better, could have seen what I see in him. I think… I think I’m starting to find a new family in them, but it hurts so much that you’re not here to be a part of it."

The tears fell faster now, your chest aching with the weight of all the things left unsaid, all the dreams that had been shattered. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I’m so sorry that you can’t be here, that you won’t get to see what comes next. But I promise you, Alex, I’ll try to keep going. I’ll try to find a way to live, to find happiness, even if it feels impossible right now. And I’ll carry you with me, always. You’ll always be a part of me."

The snow continued to fall, the world around you growing quieter, more peaceful. You let out a shaky breath, feeling a small sense of release as you spoke those words, as if a tiny part of the burden you carried had been lifted.

For a long time, you stayed there, talking to Alex about everything that came to mind—the little things, the big things, the memories that still brought a smile to your face even through the pain. And as the sky darkened and the first stars began to appear, you finally rose to your feet, feeling a little lighter, a little less alone.

You gave the grave one last, lingering look, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll be back, Alex. I promise."

And with that, you turned and began to make your way back down the path, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots, the shadows of the grove fading behind you as you walked toward the future, one step at a time. as the snow covered the earth in a soft, white blanket, you felt, for the first time, that maybe, with time, you could begin to heal.

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 9 

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4k

warning; fight, mention of death, mention of blood, death.

notes; at the end ;)

here is the link for part 8 or part 10

---

The rest by the fire had been brief, a stolen moment of peace in the midst of a storm. With the morning light just beginning to filter through the trees, you and Azriel resumed your search, the urgency of the mission driving you forward. The forest was quiet, too quiet, and the weight of the unknown pressed down on you like a suffocating shroud.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, more active than usual, their whispers almost audible as they communicated with him. He walked beside you, his posture tense, every sense on high alert. You could feel it too—the growing sense of unease, the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

Azriel suddenly stopped, his hand gripping your arm as his shadows seemed to surge around him, coiling tightly as if in warning. “My shadows are picking up movement ahead. A group of people. We’re getting close.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and determination battling within you. You nodded, your grip tightening on your swords. “We need to be careful, Az. This feels… off.”

He looked at you, his expression dark and serious. “It does. Stay close to me. Whatever happens, we face it together.”

You nodded, but even as you said the words, a strange feeling began to creep over you—something deep inside, a cold dread that had nothing to do with the approaching danger. It was as if the very core of your being was reacting to what lay ahead, a warning from the power that you had kept hidden for so long.

As you moved forward, the trees began to thin, revealing a clearing ahead. The shadows darkened, and the air grew colder, the smell of damp earth and something else—something metallic—filling your senses.

And then you saw them.

A group of figures stood in the clearing, their faces hidden by dark hoods. But it was the man standing at the center who caught your attention—the same man who had come to your shop with the mysterious order, the man whose presence had set off a chain of events that now led you here.

He was waiting for you, his stance relaxed, almost casual, as if he had been expecting this moment all along. His gaze locked onto yours, a cold smile curving his lips.

“Welcome, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and unhurried. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Azriel moved closer, his hand hovering protectively near his blade, his shadows swirling with anticipation. “What is this?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The man tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “This, shadow singer, is the culmination of a plan that has been in motion for a very long time. You see, Y/N, this was always about you. The weapon… it was meant for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of his words. “What are you talking about?”

The man’s smile widened, a cruel edge to it now. “The power inside you, Y/N. The flames that you’ve kept hidden, the power that you’ve tried to suppress, the phoenix—it’s not meant for you alone. It was never meant to be kept by one person.”

Azriel’s grip on his blade tightened, his gaze narrowing. “You want to take her power?”

The man’s eyes gleamed with something dark, something hungry. “Yes. The weapon I requested was to extract it, to take that power and use it as it was intended—to control it, to harness it.”

The words hit you like a blow, the truth of them resonating deep within you. You had always known that your power was different, that it was something more than just a gift of healing. But you had never understood the full extent of what it was—or what it could become in the wrong hands.

“You can’t have it,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury. “I won’t let you take it.”

The man’s smile turned mocking, his gaze flicking to the others around him. “You don’t have a choice, Y/N. You were never meant to have this power in the first place. It’s time to set things right.”

And with that, the fight began.

The attackers moved swiftly, their weapons drawn as they closed in on you and Azriel. But this time, you didn’t hold back. The fear, the anger, the desperation—they all surged within you, fueling the flames that burned deep in your core.

With a fierce cry, you unleashed your power, the blue flames roaring to life around you. They danced along your skin, leaping from your hands like living fire, consuming everything in their path. The attackers recoiled in shock, their weapons faltering as they were met with the full force of your power.

Azriel fought beside you, his blades cutting through the air with lethal precision, but even he seemed momentarily taken aback by the sheer intensity of the flames. You were a force of nature, your power a blazing inferno that threatened to consume everything in its wake.

The man at the center watched with a dark satisfaction, his eyes gleaming as if this was exactly what he had hoped for. “Yes… that’s it, Y/N. Embrace it. Feel its power.”

But you didn’t care about his words. All you cared about was ending this, about saving Alex and stopping these monsters from taking what was yours.

The fight was brutal, the clearing filled with the sounds of clashing steel and the roar of your flames. The attackers were skilled, but they were no match for you and Azriel. One by one, they fell, their bodies consumed by the fire that raged from your very soul.

But even as you fought, you could feel the strain of your power, the way it threatened to overwhelm you. The flames were wild, untamed, and with each passing moment, it became harder to control them.

Azriel noticed your struggle, his eyes flicking to you with concern even as he parried another strike. “Y/N, you need to be careful!”

But there was no time to be careful. The flames were a part of you, and they demanded to be unleashed.

With a final, desperate surge, you directed the flames toward the man who had started it all. He stood his ground, his eyes locked on yours, a twisted smile on his lips as the fire engulfed him.

But instead of being consumed, the flames seemed to pass through him, as if he were made of smoke and shadow. His laughter echoed through the clearing, cold and cruel.

“You can’t destroy me, Y/N. I’m a part of you, just as that power is. This isn’t over.”

And then, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, vanishing into the shadows like a wisp of smoke.

The clearing fell silent, the last of the attackers lying motionless on the ground. You stood there, your breath coming in ragged gasps, the flames slowly dying down as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.

Azriel was at your side in an instant, his hands steady as he reached out to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but the truth was, you didn’t know. Everything you had just learned, everything you had just felt—it was too much, too overwhelming.

“He was trying to take my power,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “He… he said it wasn’t meant for me. That it was supposed to be for something else.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, his eyes fierce. “Whatever he’s after, we’ll stop him. But right now, we need to find Alex.”

You nodded, the urgency of the situation crashing back over you. There was no time to dwell on the darkness that had been revealed. Alex was still out there, and he needed you.

Together, you and Azriel began to move through the clearing, your steps determined as you pushed forward, deeper into the forest, toward whatever lay ahead.

But in the back of your mind, the man’s words echoed, a chilling reminder of the power that burned within you, and the shadowy forces that sought to claim it.

The clearing where you had fought was eerily silent now, the only sound the crackling of dying flames as they consumed the last remnants of your enemies. The bodies of those who had attacked you lay scattered across the ground, their lifeless forms a stark reminder of the danger that still loomed over you. But there was no time to linger, no time to dwell on the bloodshed. Alex was still out there, somewhere in the darkness, and every second that passed felt like an eternity.

Azriel’s shadows, which had been so fiercely active during the battle, now swirled around him with a newfound urgency, their tendrils reaching out as if searching for something—someone. His face was set in grim determination, his eyes scanning the area as the two of you moved deeper into the forest.

“We need to keep moving,” Azriel said, his voice tight with controlled emotion. “There’s a chance they’ve taken him further into the woods, or they could have hidden him somewhere nearby.”

You nodded, gripping the hilts of your swords tightly as you followed him, every muscle in your body tense and ready for another fight. The forest was dense, the trees towering above you like silent sentinels, their branches intertwining to form a dark, shadowy canopy that blocked out much of the light.

As you pushed forward, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. The man’s words echoed in your mind, his cruel smile etched into your memory. He had known you would come, had been expecting you—and that realization gnawed at you like a persistent, unwelcome thought.

Your power, the blue flames that had always been a part of you, had never felt so dangerous, so out of control. The way they had surged during the fight, the way they had nearly overwhelmed you—it was as if they were responding to something deep within you, something that was tied to the very essence of who you were.

But there was no time to think about that now. Alex needed you, and you couldn’t afford to lose focus.

“Anything?” you asked, your voice strained as you glanced at Azriel.

He shook his head, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Nothing yet. But my shadows are restless. They’re picking up traces of something… I just can’t tell what it is.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to push back the rising tide of fear that threatened to consume you. The forest was vast, and the shadows seemed to stretch on forever, offering no clues, no signs of where Alex might be.

You moved silently through the underbrush, your steps light and careful as you searched for any trace of the boy who had become so dear to you. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a nightbird.

But then, as you rounded a bend in the forest, you felt it—a faint pulse, like a whisper in the back of your mind. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching as the feeling grew stronger, more insistent. It was the same sensation you had felt before, during the battle, when your power had surged uncontrollably. But now it was different—focused, directed.

“Azriel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I think… I think I can sense something.”

He turned to you, his expression sharpening as he caught the change in your demeanor. “What is it?”

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensation, letting it guide you. It was like a thread, thin and fragile, leading you deeper into the forest. “This way,” you said, your voice steadier now as you began to move in the direction the feeling was pulling you.

Azriel fell into step beside you, his shadows flaring around him as if they, too, could sense what you were feeling. The air grew colder as you pushed forward, the trees growing thicker, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

And then you saw it—a faint glow, just ahead, barely visible through the dense foliage. It was faint, but unmistakable—a soft, bluish light that pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of the forest itself.

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, your heart pounding in your chest as you both moved closer. The glow grew brighter as you approached, and soon you found yourself standing at the edge of a small, hidden glade, the light emanating from a cluster of stones arranged in a rough circle.

But there was no sign of Alex.

Your heart sank, disappointment and fear washing over you in equal measure. The glow, while mysterious, offered no immediate answers, no indication of where he might be.

But you couldn’t give up, not now. Not when you were so close.

Azriel’s hand rested on your shoulder, his touch grounding you as he spoke. “This might be connected to your power. We need to figure out what this is—what it means.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you stepped into the glade, the soft light bathing you in its eerie glow. The stones were ancient, their surfaces worn smooth by time, but the air around them buzzed with a faint energy, as if they were alive with the power they had absorbed over the centuries.

The feeling inside you grew stronger, more insistent, and as you reached out to touch one of the stones, the blue flames flickered to life along your fingertips, responding to the energy that pulsed within the earth.

And in that moment, you understood.

This place, this glade—it was a focal point, a convergence of power, tied to the very essence of the land. The energy here was connected to you, to the flames that had always been a part of you. It was as if the earth itself was calling to you, resonating with the power you carried within.

But there was more—something hidden, something buried deep within the stones, within the earth itself.

You closed your eyes, letting the flames guide you as you reached deeper, past the physical, into the very fabric of the world. And then, like a sudden flash of lightning, you saw it—a vision, fleeting but clear.

Alex, bound and unconscious, his small form huddled at the base of one of the stones. He was alive, but barely. The man from the clearing stood over him, his smile cruel as he whispered words of power, words that resonated with the energy of the glade.

And then the vision was gone, leaving you gasping, your hands trembling as you pulled back from the stone.

“Y/N,” Azriel’s voice was urgent, filled with concern as he knelt beside you. “What did you see?”

You met his gaze, your voice shaking as you spoke. “They’re using this place… to drain him, to take what’s left of his life. We have to find him. We’re running out of time.”

Azriel’s expression hardened, his shadows flaring with a newfound intensity. “Then we’ll tear this forest apart if we have to. We won’t leave without him.”

With renewed determination, the two of you pressed on, the urgency of the situation propelling you forward. You knew now that this was all connected to the power within you, the power that the man had spoken of—the power that they sought to claim.

But you wouldn’t let them. You couldn’t.

And as the light of the glade faded behind you, you knew that the final confrontation was drawing near. The stakes had never been higher, and the cost of failure would be more than you could bear.

But you were ready to face it, ready to fight with everything you had.

For Alex.

For the power that was yours.

For the future that still lay ahead.

The forest seemed to close in around you as you and Azriel followed the trail of energy that pulsed through the earth, guiding you deeper into the shadows. Every step felt like a lifetime, the weight of the urgency pressing down on you with an unbearable intensity. The vision of Alex, bound and helpless, was burned into your mind, driving you forward with a desperation that bordered on madness.

You could feel the power growing stronger, the pulse of the glade’s energy resonating within you as you neared your destination. The trees thinned, the darkness deepening until it felt like the night itself was pressing against your skin. And then, through the tangled branches and dense underbrush, you saw it—a faint, flickering light, barely visible through the gloom.

Azriel’s shadows surged around him as he moved ahead, his blades drawn, ready for whatever awaited. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed through the last of the trees and into a small, hidden clearing.

There, in the center of the clearing, was Alexander.

He was bound to one of the ancient stones, his small body slumped forward, his head hanging low as if he were unconscious. The soft, blue glow of the glade’s energy pulsed around him, a cruel mockery of the life that was slipping away from him with every passing second.

The man from the clearing stood over him, his cruel smile gone, replaced by a look of cold satisfaction. He didn’t even flinch as you and Azriel burst into the clearing, his eyes locking onto yours with a chilling certainty.

“You’re too late,” he said, his voice calm, almost indifferent. “The ritual is nearly complete. The boy’s life force will feed the power that should have been yours.”

Rage unlike anything you had ever felt surged through you, the flames roaring to life around your hands, brighter and more intense than ever before. “Get away from him!” you screamed, the flames flaring outward, sending a wave of heat crashing through the clearing.

Azriel moved to attack, his shadows lashing out with deadly precision, but the man was ready. With a wave of his hand, a barrier of dark energy sprang up, deflecting the shadows and pushing you both back.

“No!” you cried, your voice breaking as you tried to push forward, tried to reach Alex. But the barrier held firm, the dark energy crackling with malevolent power.

The man’s smile returned, a twisted, mocking grin. “This power was never meant for you, Y/N. It’s too dangerous, too wild. But with the boy’s life force, it can be controlled, harnessed. And you will be free of it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic and desperation clawing at you as you tried to break through the barrier. The flames danced around you, wild and uncontrollable, but the barrier remained unyielding.

And then, in a moment of pure, blinding rage, you unleashed everything.

The flames surged, a torrent of blue fire that crashed against the barrier with a force that shook the earth. The energy crackled, the barrier faltering for a moment under the sheer intensity of your power.

But it was too late.

The ritual was complete.

The dark energy surrounding the stone flared, a final burst of power that shot through Alex’s small form like a bolt of lightning. His body jerked, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as his eyes fluttered open, just for a moment.

Azriel had been fighting beside you, the darkness of the forest closing in around him as the battle raged. His blades had sung through the air, his shadows twisting and writhing like living entities, seeking out the enemies that surrounded you both. He had been prepared for anything—anything but this.

The moment he saw the clearing, his heart had dropped. The man who had haunted your recent days stood over Alex’s frail, bound form, and every instinct in Azriel screamed to rush forward, to tear the man apart and rescue the boy. But the barrier of dark energy that crackled to life between you and your enemies held him back, keeping him from reaching you.

Azriel’s shadows lashed out, trying to find a way through, but the barrier deflected them, pushing him back as if mocking his efforts. The anger, the helplessness, all swirled inside him, a storm of emotions that he could barely control. He could see you, your face twisted in fear and fury as you tried to break through the barrier with your flames, the blue fire roaring around you like a living force.

But it wasn’t enough.

He watched, heart pounding, as the ritual continued, the dark energy pulsing through Alex’s small body. Azriel could see the life force being drained from him, could see the way his fragile form shuddered under the weight of the power that was being ripped from him.

And then, with a final surge, you broke through. The barrier shattered under the force of your flames, and you were beside Alex in an instant, cradling his small body in your arms. Azriel moved to follow, but something in the air—something in the very essence of the forest—stopped him cold.

He stood there, on the edge of the clearing, his shadows swirling around him in agitation as he watched you hold Alex close. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the way your hands trembled as you tried to summon the flames that had always been there for you, the flames that had always healed.

But they wouldn’t come.

Azriel’s heart twisted painfully as he realized what was happening. The ritual, whatever it was, had drained the power from the glade, from the very earth itself. The flames that had always been a part of you were gone, leaving you defenceless, helpless, as you held the boy you had sworn to protect.

“Y/N…” Azriel whispered, but his voice was lost in the wind, carried away by the darkness that surrounded you both.

And then Alex spoke, his voice weak, barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry… I won’t be there… for your wedding… with Azriel.”

The words hit Azriel like a physical blow, the weight of them crashing over him as he stood frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe. He could see the pain in your eyes, the way your tears fell onto Alex’s pale face as you tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him that he would be there, that everything would be alright.

But Azriel knew the truth.

The boy was dying.

And then it happened.

The bond snapped into place with a force that took Azriel’s breath away. It was like a thunderclap in his mind, a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion and sensation that left him reeling. He felt it in every fiber of his being, a connection so deep, so profound, that it was as if the very fabric of his soul had been intertwined with yours.

The bond pulsed through him, raw and powerful, and with it came the crushing realisation that you were his mate. You were the one he was destined to be with, the one he had been searching for his entire life. And yet, in that moment, as he looked at you holding Alex’s lifeless body, he felt nothing but pain.

It was unbearable, the way the bond twisted inside him, demanding that he move, that he comfort you, that he do something—anything—to ease the agony he could see etched into every line of your face. But he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed, rooted to the spot by the shock of the bond, by the sight of you in your worst moment, a moment that he was powerless to stop.

He wanted to reach out, to take you into his arms, to tell you that it would be alright, that he was here, that he would always be here. But the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck in his throat, choked off by the crushing weight of the bond that had snapped into place far too late.

And you didn’t feel it. He could see that in the way your eyes were glazed with grief, in the way you held Alex close, as if by sheer will alone you could bring him back. The bond was there, burning through Azriel with a force that was almost unbearable, but you were too lost in your sorrow to recognize it, too overwhelmed by the loss of the boy you had loved like a brother, like a son.

Azriel could do nothing but watch, his heart breaking as he saw you in this state, the woman he was bound to, the woman who was his mate, cradling the dead body of a child who had been your world. It was as if the ground had been ripped out from under him, leaving him falling, spiraling into a darkness that he couldn’t escape.

He was supposed to protect you, supposed to be your partner, your equal, but in this moment, he felt like nothing more than a bystander, watching helplessly as the woman he loved was torn apart by grief.

The shadows around him flickered, faltered, as if reflecting the turmoil inside him. The bond pulsed again, demanding that he move, that he act, but he was frozen, unable to do anything but stand there, his heart shattering with every sob that wracked your body.

He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart, to bring Alexander back if only to see you smile again. But there was nothing he could do, nothing that would bring the light back into your eyes, nothing that could undo the damage that had been done.

And so he stood there, helpless, broken, as the bond that tied him to you pulsed through him with every beat of his heart—a cruel reminder of the love that had come too late.

---

notes: pretty hard chapter for me to write, but I feel like it was something that had to happen for the overall story. After writing the part 9, I was honestly heart broken... I still hope that you enjoy this part, we have 5 more (+ epilogue) to do until the end of the story. If you guys have any request don't hesitate ;) See you soon <3

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