#@ the witching hour

[stigmatam4rtyr]

The Witching Hour (1977, tempera on panel) | Andrew Wyeth

[cressidagrey]

The Witching Hour - Chapter 6 - Azriel (The End)

Summary: 

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings: 

Mention of Amarantha, Mention of Murder, Mention of torture, Rhys Bashing, Definitely NSFW, Rough but consensual sex, (I literally titled this chapter Morticia and Gomez: Acotar Edition)

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

"I want you to keep away from her." 

Azriel held back a sigh.

He should have expected something like this probably... but it was still pissing him off.

Azriel kept his expression carefully neutral as he met Rhys' gaze. "Why?" he asked simply, his voice giving nothing away.

Rhys scowled, crossing his arms. "Because I say so," he said firmly. "I don't want you anywhere near her."

Azriel held back a snort. "Out of pure interest," he drawled. "Why exactly are you suddenly this interested in what female I pursue?"

Rhys clenched his jaw, his irritation mounting at Azriel's questioning. "I'm not interested in the specifics," he said gruffly. "I just don't want you anywhere near her, that's all'."

"You don't want me near Elain and you don't want me near Cate," Azriel said drily. “Anybody else?”

Rhys bristled at Azriel's words, his eyes narrowing. "This isn't about Elain," he said hotly. "This is about Cate. And I don't want you anywhere near Cate, understood?"

Azriel raised an eyebrow, his own irritation rising. "And why, pray tell, do you get to dictate who I spend my time with?" he asked, his voice deceptively casual.

Rhys bristled at Azriel's tone, his irritation growing.

"Because I'm the High Lord, and this is my court," he said, his voice taking on a cold, authoritative tone. "And I don't want you involved with her."

Azriel rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "And what's your reason for that?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Afraid she'll give me cooties?"

Rhys visibly bristled, his irritation clear in his eyes.

"Damnit, Azriel, you know it's not about that," he snapped "She's not right for you. She's too powerful, too unpredictable. She'll only cause trouble and chaos."

Azriel let out a scoff, his own irritation rising. "And who are you to say who's right for me?" he shot back. "You don't know a thing about her, or about my own feelings."

Didn't know how sometimes Cate was the only one who understood him...who didn't judge him...who said nothing and just listened. 

"I know enough to say she's trouble," Rhys said firmly. "And that's all I need to know. She doesn't belong here, and she doesn't belong with you."

"Speak for yourself," Azriel answered calmly. "I know her. She knows me. I trust her."

He did know her. He knew her better than anybody else in his life. He trusted her with his life and he trusted her to act in the best interest of Prythian. 

Rhys's eyes widened, his anger replaced by surprise and disbelief. "You...you trust her?" he asked, his voice filled with incredulity. "After everything I've said, after everything I've warned you about, you still trust her? You know some of the things that she has done!"

Azriel didn't flinch.

"She isn't the only person with blood on her hands," he responded evenly.

She really wasn’t. He had done worse than her. At least Cate had always acted on behalf of Fate and the vision that came to her. She did what needed to be done to make the best vision come to life. 

He had just slaughtered people on the orders of Rhys’ father. 

Rhys bristled at Azriel's response, his face tightening with anger. "That's entirely different, and you know it," he snapped. "We may have blood on our hands, but we do what we do for the betterment of this court, of the Night Court. We have a responsibility to protect our people and our land. You cannot compare us to her."

"Can't we?" Azriel asked. As far as he cared…they were much more similar than Rhys would like. "She has her reasons, Rhys, if you believe it or not."

"She could have killed Amarantha and she didn't!" Rhys bit out.

Oh. 

Azriel should have realised that that was going to be the sticking point. 

He knew where Cate had spent these 50 years. Keeping an eye on Hybern. He had thought she was dead. Had thought that maybe Cate had been Amarantha’s first political murder…but Cate had always been smart enough to know when to go underground. When to hide herself away so well that it was impossible to find her, even for him.

Only after the last battle with Hybern had been fought…only then, her information trickle to him. She had been fighting her own, one-woman mission, keeping the human lands as safe as she could. 

And she had also told him what exactly would have happened if she had interfered more obviously. If she hadn’t hidden herself away in the shadows, made sure that nobody knew that she was a piece on the chessboard as well. 

“She had her reason,” Azriel said quietly. 

"Why didn't she?" Rhys shot back, his anger flaring. "She had the power to do it. She has the capability. But instead, she chose to stand by and watch us suffer. She chose to let us endure fifty years of torture and horrors."

Azriel's expression darkened. "There are things you don't know, Rhys," he said quietly. "Things that no one knows, things that she hasn't told anyone."

He knew what he asked her about…but there were some things where Cate just turned silent...just stared emptily in front of her with these green eyes an ocean of pain and suffering…and he left it at that. It was better that way. 

There were things that Cate didn't even tell him...that she never would utter to a single soul. 

Rhys clenched his jaw, his irritation and frustration mounting even more at Azriel's words. "And what exactly would those 'things' be that she hasn't told anyone?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He could feel the adamantium ripped claws against the shield of his mind, could feel the deep gouges Rhys left and he held his own, clenching his teeth.

Rhys let out a growl of frustration, Azriel's mental shields holding firm against the onslaught of Rhys.

"Damnit, Azriel," he bit out. "I'm trying to protect you, can't you see that?"

"All I am seeing is that you keep trying to control me," Azriel bit out.

"Control you?" Rhys repeated incredulously. "You think that's what this is about? You think I'm just controlling you because I feel like it?"

Azriel shot him a dark glance. "What else do you call trying to dictate who I do and don't spend my time with, hm?"

First Elain, now Cate. Azriel was done. 

What he did with Cat had no political ramifications for Rhys whatsoever…unless one counted easier access to certain kinds of information. 

"I'm trying to look out for you, you stubborn, infuriating, idiot," Rhys gritted out. "I'm trying to keep you safe, to keep you from getting hurt. From getting burned."

Azriel let out a scoff, his irritation mounting. "And do you really think I'm so weak and helpless that I need you to 'keep' me safe?" he shot back. "| can take care of myself, Rhys. I don't need you hovering over me like a mother hen."

"You are the spymaster of this court! And you are colluding with her!"

"Colluding?" Azriel repeated, his tone flat. "We're not planning a coup if that's what you're implying. Actually, if you truly think that I would do something like that...then I think I have no place in this court anymore." 

Rhys froze at Azriel's words, his irritation replaced by surprise and a hint of guilt. "Don't say that," he said, his voice quieter now. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Do I?" Azriel asked him flatly. 

If Rhys truly thought that he and Cate were planning to topple his throat, then Azriel should not be trusted at all. 

Rhys let out a huff, running a hand through his hair.

"Damnit, Azriel," he muttered. "You know me better than that. You know that I would never doubt your loyalty."

"Az..." Cassian piped up.

Azriel's gaze turned to Cassian, who had been watching the exchange silently from the sidelines. "What?" he bit out. "Want to call Cate a whore? Again? Or would you like to go back to implying that she is using me? Again? Do you truly take me for stupid enough that I wouldn't have noticed?" 

Cassian tensed at Azriel's sharp words, his own irritation mounting at being called out so directly. "I'm not calling her a whore," he muttered defensively. "I just think you're being reckless, that's all."

"The one thing Cate did was to help Nesta," Azriel said, his voice even. "I know you didn't like it, but it clearly worked. Nesta made that choice, Cassian. And Nesta had every right to make this fucking choice too."

Cassian clenched his jaw, stung by Azriel's words. "I get that," he bit out. "And thanks to her, I now got a mate that's so fucking furious with me that she doesn't even talk to me anymore."

"I hate to be the one to tell you, but that Nesta is angry at you, has nothing to do with Cate," Azriel snapped. "She's angry because you think you have a right to decide what she does with her own body. We have some people who think they can decide what happens to a female's body in this court. Do you truly wish to put yourself on the same level as them?" Azriel said lowly.

Cassian froze, his expression darkening at the implications of Azriel's words. "I'm not like that," he said tightly, his own anger mounting. "You know damn well I'm not like that."

"Prove it," Azriel bit out. "Cate only cast a Dreamcatcher Spell. She has cast the same on me, numerous times. The only thing it does is to blunt the emotional impact of the nightmares. Nothing else. She did that as a favour to me, Cassian."

Cassian scowled. "So she's your personal magic spell caster now?" he asked, his voice cold. "She's just there to help you get a good night's sleep?"

Azriel's nostrils flared at Cassian's barbed words. "She's my friend, not just some 'spell caster'," he said, his voice tight with anger. "And maybe if you actually bothered to talk to her yourself instead of just listening to rumours, you would see that too."

Cassian shot him a dark glance, his expression closed off.

"I'm not interested in getting to know her," he said coldly.

Azriel let out a scoff, his own anger mounting even more. "Of course, you aren't," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's easier to judge someone without knowing them, isn't it?"

Rhys stepped in, his voice cutting through the tension in the air. "Alright, that's enough," he said firmly. "This arguing is getting us nowhere. We need to figure out a way forward, not keep sniping at each other like children."

Azriel clenched his jaw, his own irritation still simmering beneath the surface.

Cassian grumbled to himself but finally nodded. "Fine," he muttered. "What do you suggest, then?"

Rhys let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Well, for starters, Azriel, maybe you could stop spending so much time with her," he suggested.

Azriel couldn't help but bark out a laugh. "No," he said drily. "I really don't care if you like it or not, Rhys, but Cate's presence in my life is not something that we are going to argue about. Either you accept it or you don't. If you don't, you'll get to find yourself a new spymaster."

Rhys froze at Azriel's words, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Are you...are you actually threatening to quit over this?" he asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice.

"It's not a threat," Azriel said quietly. "I am telling you that my relationship with Cate is not up for debate. I am telling you that her presence in my life is non-negotiable. She's important to me, Rhysand."

Maybe the most important of them all. 

She understood him. Nobody else understood him. She wasn’t scared of him. Everybody was always scared of him. She didn’t once flinch away from the things he had done, because she had done the same or worse. It was so…easy to be with her. 

He didn’t need to pull on a mask and behave like a normal person, because she wasn’t normal either. She would never judge him for some of the horrific dark thoughts that ran around in his head. She had the same.

Rhys clenched his jaw, trying to rein in his anger. "You'd really throw away centuries of loyalty and friendship for her?" Rhys asked tightly.

"If you don't trust me anymore to do my job, then there is nothing to throw away," Azriel said quietly. "You already stopped treating me like your brother by Winter Solstice, Rhysand. I did what you asked. I kept away from Elain. I only tried to help Nesta, but you don't like my methods, so clearly I must be out to destroy my brother's mating bond. Gods, do you even hear yourself?! Cate has done nothing to you, or to Nesta or to Elain. She offered her help, even when she was treated utterly reprehensible by you,” he spat out. 

Rhys bristled at the accusation, his irritation mounting. "I never said I didn't trust you, Azriel," he gritted out. "I just don't trust her"

Azriel let out a scoff, his own annoyance sharpening.

"Why?" he asked, his voice sharp as a knife. "Why is it that you're so desperate to find fault in her that you're questioning my judgement and my own ability to be discerning?"

Rhys clenched his jaw, his irritation warring with a hint of guilt. "I just... just think you're not seeing her clearly," he said, his voice tight. "She's clouding your mind, making you see her in a more... favourable light."

Azriel rolled his eyes, his irritation mounting again. "I'm not some damn swooning schoolboy, Rhys," he said firmly. "I'm not some naive idiot that falls for every pretty face. And you should know me better than to assume that I would let her manipulate me in such a way."

Without a word, he lifted the shirt he wore, lifting the glamour that kept the bargain mark from sight.

Rhys's eyes widened at the sight of the mark on Azriel's shoulder. "You...you made a bargain with her?" he said, disbelief and concern colouring his voice. It was a circle with a star that…not any bigger than a gold coin. 

"The very first time I met her," Azriel bit out. "To tell each other the truth, regardless of anything else."

Centuries ago...the first time he came across his witch...he had been a spy working for Rhys' father. He had been ready to snatch the mantle of spymaster for himself...until Cate had been quicker.

His competition had turned into dust...and he met Hecate The Undying.

They had a bargain. Even still to this day. To tell each other the truth.

Hers wrapped over her shoulder blade...his around his ribs.

Rhys's brow furrowed in confusion and consternation.

"Why?" he asked, his voice tight. "Why would you make such a bargain, with a stranger no less?"

Azriel gritted his teeth, his irritation mounting. He had never enjoyed talking about this particular subject. "She saved my life," he said quietly. "And it was the only way to make sure that we could trust each other."

Cassian's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean, she saved your life?" he asked, his voice betraying his own shock.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his irritation still there, but now a hint of vulnerability as well. "There was a...an incident, long ago," he said quietly. "Before I became spymaster...there was...more than one option for the next holder of that title. Some decided to team up. Take me out of the running. And she...she saved me from certain death. She offered me the bargain as a way to...repay the debt."

Rhys gaped at Azriel's words, shock and surprise registering on his face. Cassian was similarly taken aback, clearly having not expected this revelation. "You never told us," Rhys finally managed to say

Azriel let out a scoff, a hint of bitterness entering his voice. "Would you have believed me, if I did?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Rhys's face.

Rhys had the decency to look guilty at that, his jaw clenching as he tried to find an answer. But before he could say anything, Cassian spoke up. "Azriel, you know we would have listened to you, right?" he asked, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.

Azriel let out a huff, his irritation and defensiveness faltering momentarily in the face of Cassian's genuine concern. "..." he started, but then trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly, his voice guarded.

"It does matter," Cassian urged, taking a step forward. "You're my brother, Azriel. We have fought together, bled together. We have shared everything. Why would you think we wouldn't believe you about something this important?"

"Because you don't believe me right now," Azriel spat out. 

Cassian reeled back, stung by Azriel's response. "That's not...that's not true," he protested, even as the guilt settled in the pit of his stomach.

Azriel let out a scoff. "Is it? You don't believe me when I say that she's trustworthy. You think she's manipulating me, that she's somehow got me under her spell. We've met 500 years ago. If she had me under her spell it would not be a new thing," he said flippantly. "She came to Velaris on my request. Because I knew that we could use all the help we could get with Koschei and with Elain."

Cassian's eyebrows shot up at Azriel's admission. "Wait, she's here because...you asked her to come?" he asked, surprise and a hint of disbelief colouring his voice.

Azriel let out a scoff, his irritation flaring again. "Yes, Cassian, she's here because I asked her to come," he bit out. "Can you believe that? Incredible that this selfish monster comes just because I say please, right?! That she is willing to help, even when she gets nothing out of it."

There was a hint of bitter sarcasm in his voice that sent a pang through Rhys' chest. "Azriel, that's not..." he started, but trailed off, unsure what to say.

"I don't want to hear it," Azriel said sharply. "Keep out of my private life. Both of you. You can trust me to act in the best interest of this court. But you will not get me to give up Cate. I'll be by her side until she decides she doesn't want me to be."

Rhys and Cassian both froze at Azriel's firm declaration, both taken aback by the fierce protectiveness in his voice.

There was a tense silence in which neither one of them dared to speak.

"General, High Lord," Azriel drawled before he turned on.his heel and walked out.

For a moment, neither one of them spoke. They just stood there, quietly watching as Azriel stormed off, the door clicking shut behind him.

Finally, Rhys let out a heavy sigh. "Well, that could have gone better."

Azriel though... Azriel went home.

Azriel stalked through the streets, his expression thunderous. He was furious with Rhys and Cassian for questioning his judgement, and for not trusting him. But he was also feeling a growing sense of agitation and anxiety over the whole situation.

As he finally approached his house, he paused momentarily, taking a deep breath to try and quell the mix of emotions swirling within him.

Not to a place. No place had ever been home for him. But to a person. A person that he knew he could trust with his life.

They had never put a label on what exactly their relationship was.

Had never bothered with it. They had always just been...them. They came together and then they went apart again, sometimes for weeks, sometimes decades...but every time they came back together it was like no time had passed at all.

But he knew what it was. Knew what it was to meet his other half...his perfect, match, his equal. And he didn't care what anybody else thought about it any longer. He was done trying to hide, done trying to behave in a way that was more socially acceptable. He wanted his witch.

He wanted Cate. 

He wanted her warm laughter, her sharp wit. He wanted her soft body to bury his face as he breathed her in. He wanted those big, green eyes of hers to look at him with affection, not suspicion.

He wanted her in a way he had never wanted anything or anyone before in his existence. And he would be damned if he let anyone come between them.

He finally arrived at Cate's townhouse, his heart thudding in his chest. He didn't hesitate for a moment, not even bothering to knock as he pushed down the handle to the door and stepped into the house.

Azriel gave the jaguar a nod in greeting, his expression softening slightly as he glanced down at the jaguar. "Hey, you," he said quietly. "Where's Cate?"

Belladonna was her familiar, bound to her through an ancient magical ritual. She served as a companion, as a focus for Cate’s magic, as protector…She was a part of Cate just like his shadows were for him.

He didn’t need an actual thought until his shadows went to swarm to her, always having liked the big cat that playfully swiped at them, claws carefully withdrawn, before she looked at Azriel and then in the direction of the bedroom.

Azriel let out a soft breath as he saw the direction of the jaguar's glance. He took that as a cue to head to the bedroom, his heart beating faster with every step he took.

Azriel let out a soft breath as he saw her spread out on the bed, asleep. He moved forward quietly, his gaze trailing over her face, over her unruly red hair, her freckled arms and slender legs. She was so beautiful, so vulnerable without her usual sharp edge.

He could see the signs of exhaustion on her face, the dark circles under her eyes, the slight frown on her forehead. She was tired, no doubt from the day's events. He felt a pang in his chest, an overwhelming urge to protect her, to take care of her in that moment. 

The High Lord went to see her this morning, his shadows whispered. Her magic forced him out of the house.

Azriel grunted, his eyes narrowing as the shadows informed him of Rhys' visit to Cate's house. That meddling bastard, he grumbled, a hint of irritation in his voice. He should've left her alone.

It must have gotten bad if Cate had forced Rhys out of her house.

He didn't hesitate as he undressed. Regardless of Cassian's worry for his manhood, Azriel had never worried about that once.

As he got into the bed behind her, he pulled her close to him, savouring the feeling of her body against his. Azriel tucked his head into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her tightly against him like a lifeline.

For a moment, he just lay there, holding her close, taking comfort in the sound of her slow, steady breathing. But then he couldn't help it, his hand began to wander. It started at her waist, tracing lightly over the curves of her body.

He moved up, his fingers tracing over the delicate skin of her hip, her ribs, the valley between her breasts. He heard her breath hitch as he touched her, her body stirring in response to his touch. He felt her press back against him, her body seeking out the comfort of his touch. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, his mouth moving lightly over the sensitive skin.

Cate let out a soft sigh, her body responding to him, arching slightly in his arms. He couldn't resist, his hand wandering lower, tracing the line of her hipbone, the softness of her stomach. He felt her shiver as he touched her, her fingers twitching in the sheets.

He didn't stop, his hand continuing its journey down, down to the apex of her thighs. He pressed his fingers gently against her flesh, feeling the heat…the wetness that already coated his fingers. Between one breath and the next, her eyes opened slowly, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She turned her head slightly, her gaze lazily meeting his. "Azriel," she breathed, her voice ragged with sleep and desire.

Azriel moved quickly, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. He poured all his desperation, his need for her, into the kiss, his hand still tracing over the soft skin of her thighs.

If Cate was caught off guard by his forwardness, but she quickly recovered and pressed herself against him, responding to his kiss with a soft mewl.

Her tongue met his, dancing against it, and he could taste the familiar hint of apples and spice in her mouth. It sent a shiver down his spine, sparking a blaze of desire within him.

Her. Nothing, nobody had ever been able to compare.

Azriel ran one of his hands down her side, her curves a familiar and comforting sensation. He deepened the kiss, claiming more, pushing her harder into the wall, pressing his body against hers.

The desire, the fierce need to touch, taste, and feel all of her, was mounting rapidly, taking over his senses.

He broke the kiss momentarily, panting as he took her in.

Cate's hair was even more tousled, her lips red and wet. Her eyes had darkened to an almost black hue, the want in them so clear that it made his very blood sing.

He leaned back in, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He could feel her body responding to his touch, the way she pressed herself into him, arching into him in silent invitation.

Her scent, her taste, the feel of her...the noises she made...all of it drove him crazy, made him want more, more...more of her. Azriel pressed himself against her, his body desperate for connection, for the feel of her skin against his.

He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't stop himself from touching her, from tasting her, from making her moan and writhe under his touch.

Azriel moved down, his lips and tongue trailing over her collarbone, her throat, and the top of her chest.

Azriel was drowning in her, his senses overrun by everything that was this glorious, maddening female. He could feel his hands shaking with the need to touch her, to hold her and never let go.

He needed her, needed to make her his, to claim her completely. His hands roamed over her body, caressing, teasing, marking her skin with his touch, marking her as his and only his.

A bite here, a kiss there, adding to the patchwork of bruises and hickeys he had already left. Cate was his.

His fingers traced over her skin, trailing over the marks he had left behind. It was satisfying in a primal way, to see the evidence of his possession of her body. His. She was his.

"Say it," he whispered hoarsely, his voice a rough, needy growl. "Say you're mine."

His hands continued their assault, his fingers trailing over her hips, her stomach, up to her thighs.

He wanted, no, needed to hear the words from her lips, needed her to confirm what he already knew in his heart to be true. And judging by the way she arched into his touch, the way her eyes darkened further at his demand, she wanted it just as badly as he did.

"Cate," he said again, his voice even rougher than before. "Say it. Say you're mine."

He punctuated his demand with a bite to her shoulder, sharp and possessive.

His hands roamed over her body again, more insistent, more desperate. He knew he was being greedy, that he was pushing the boundaries, but he didn't care. He needed her to say those words. He needed her to claim him as much as he was claiming her.

Her breath hitched, her body arching again. He could feel the heat emanating from her, the desire burning in her veins just as strongly as it burned in his.

"I'm...I'm yours," Cate gasped out, her voice ragged with need.

He rewarded her with his cock thrusting inside her, a cry coming from her, just as he bit down again. 

She hadn’t truly been ready for him, but neither of them had ever shied away from a bite of pain. Besides, he trusted her to use her safeword if she needed it. And she would. They may played rough, but they had done this often enough to know each other’s boundaries very well. 

And like this, her body quivering around him, her cunt struggling to stretch around him, her body tightly pressed against him…for once she was utterly at his mercy. 

His body thrummed with a primal satisfaction, as he began to move, his body rocking against hers. His grip on her hips was bruising, the need to lose himself in her overwhelming. His lips found her neck again, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin, drawing out soft gasps from her. The sound of their breathing and the soft wet slapping of skin mingled with the occasional thump against the wall, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. He lost himself in the feeling of her, the way she moved and writhed against him. The desire, the passion, the desperate need to be closer, more was almost a living thing, driving him to move faster, harder, claiming her and being claimed.

He was consumed by her, by the sensations coursing through his body, by the sheer need to be as close to her as physically possible. 

Azriel could feel himself approaching the edge

Her body was shuddering, clenching around him, the soft gasps and mewls becoming whimpers as she too felt the tension building. He could feel her nails biting into his skin, the sting of it feeding him, pushing him further on.

His movements became faster, more frantic. He was close, so close, but he wanted her to go over the edge with him. He nipped at her neck, the sound of her gasps and moans spurring him on. His grip tightened on her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, desperate to hold on.

 "Mine," he repeated, more to himself than to her. "Mine," he said again, the word a low growl.

He repeated the word again and again, like a mantra, a desperate claim. As he felt her body shuddering against his, the sounds of her climax mingling with his own, he said it again, for good measure, his mouth against the shell of her ear. "Mine," he said again, his voice ragged and raw. "You're mine."

And as Azriel let his body surrender to the climax, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming, he repeated it once more, his eyes closed, his forehead resting against hers.

"You're mine."

As they both came down, he didn't let go of her. He kept her close, his arms wrapped around her like a lifeline.

"I love you," he murmured in her ear, his voice hoarse but firm. He had never said the words aloud, but now it felt like a dam had burst, a truth that had been there all along finally spilling out into the open.

"I love you," he repeated, his eyes still shut, his face nuzzling against her neck. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, the rapid thump slowly returning to a more normal pace.

He wasn't even sure why he'd kept the words from her for so long. Fear, maybe, of scaring her off. Or maybe because he was just so used to keeping his emotions tightly leashed.

Maybe because he knew that she thought that every other person would just keep leaving her.

He knew her well enough to be aware of her trust issues. He knew that she had walls built up, as high as the damn sky. He knew that she was terrified of putting her heart on the line and getting it broken.

It was buried deep, hidden behind her prickly exterior, her sharp tongue, and her fiercely independent spirit. But once you broke through all of that, once you earned her trust and got through those walls of hers, her love was fierce, unwavering, and loyal to a fault. 

He took her face in his hands, tilting it up so he could look at her. "Say it," he demanded again, the need to hear her say the words overwhelming. "Please," he added softly, the desperate plea in his voice clear.

He searched her face, his eyes locking with hers, pleading and desperate. He needed to hear those three little words from her more than he needed air to breathe. He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head up so he could look directly into her eyes.

Her eyes met his, the green depths holding a mixture of love, amusement, and tenderness. She let out a soft huff, gently cupping his face in her hands. "Of course, I love you, you sap," she said, her voice warm and affectionate.

The words washed over him like a balm, soothing and healing, chasing away the doubts that had lingered in his mind. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes still locked with hers. "You love me?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper as if he still couldn't quite believe it.

He felt a rush of emotion, a combination of joy, relief, and disbelief. He pulled her closer, burying his head in the crook of her neck once again. "Again," he whispered. "Say it again. 

Her laughter vibrated through her body, the sound like music to his ears. "I love you," she repeated, the words firm and steady. "I love you, you insufferable, overprotective bat."

He chuckled, the sound muffled against her skin. Her words felt like a balm to his soul, soothing away the last remnants of uncertainty.

"Insufferably overprotective, huh?" he asked, his lips curving into a soft smile against her neck.

She huffed again, the sound amused and affectionate. "You're a 500-year-old warrior with severe control issues," she pointed out. "What else am I supposed to call you?"

He hummed, the sound an imitation of agreement. "Severe control issues," he repeated, lifting his head to look at her again. He brushed a loose strand of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Is that really how you see me?"

"Yes," she replied without missing a beat. "You are insufferable. You are possessive and territorial, and sometimes I just want to strangle you." A note of laughter crept into her voice.

"Strangle me, huh?" he retorted, lifting his head slightly.

She laughed again, her hands coming up to thread through his hair. "You're lucky I love you," she teased.

"I think I'm the luckiest male alive," he replied, leaning in to press a kiss to her neck.

"Some people will vehemently disagree with you there," Cate said, her voice quiet.

He chuckled his lips still against her skin. "Let them," he murmured. "I'm not here to please everyone, only you."

She hummed, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp. "You're too sappy for your own good," she scolded softly. "I never want to come between you and your family," Cate said quietly.

He lifted his head, his expression turning serious. "You never will," he said firmly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of steel. "You're mine, and I won't let anyone or anything get between us."

She rolled her eyes, but he cupped her cheek. "I am serious. They are not going to like this," she warned him. "They didn't even like it when we were just...having fun."

He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. "That's their problem," he said, his voice firm. "I don't care what they think. I care about you. And I will fight tooth and nail for us if I have to."

"You're incredible," she murmured, her eyes soft. "And I swear to the Mother, if you get yourself killed out of some misplaced sense of protectiveness, I will resurrect you and kill you myself."

He couldn't help but laugh at that.

He chuckled. "That's fair," he conceded, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on her cheek. "But I don't care what anybody thinks. Let them have their opinions. I don't care what they think. All that matters is that I have you."

She let out a shaky laugh, relief and affection warring in her eyes. "You're insane," she told him, though her voice was filled with affection. "You know that, right?"

"Only when it comes to you," he assured her, his hand moving to cup her chin. "You drive me mad, in the best possible way."

[halloween-sweets]

[dailydccomics]

haunted Wonder Woman by Jenny Frison

[ninosferatu]

stamps!!

[loverhorror]

[sam-reid]

Alexandra Daddario as Rowan Mayfair MAYFAIR WITCHES 1.01: THE WITCHING HOUR.

[the-watcher-in-the-sky]

[weirdlookindog]

The Witching Hour #7 - DC, March 1970.

Cover art by Neal Adams.

[lowcountry-gothic]

The ​Brevard-Wisdom-Rice House at 1239 First Street, New Orleans, LA. The inspiration for the Mayfair house in The Witching Hour.

[cgbcomics]

[cressidagrey]

The Witching Hour - Chapter 1 - Nesta

Summary: 

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings: 

Nightmares, mention of the blood rite, friends with benefits sort of relationship, stabbing (in the past), magical mental health care (sorta)

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

The night air was crisp, but not cold, a welcome reprieve from the summer heat.

But none of this was calming down Nesta's racing heart, even when she stamped down the panic that rose in her chest.

She shielded the bond from it as well as she could, not wanting to wake up Cassian...again.

Nesta didn't know what it was but...but somehow the nightmares that involved the Blood Rite were...worse than even the ones that involved her father dying...the ones that involved that gods-forsaken cauldron.

Somehow the Blood Rite...somehow that was leaving her in a state of panic that nothing could touch. Not even Cassian. And he tried. Her mate did try.

She tried to. She tried everything...making herself so busy with training and work that she should fall into bed with pure exhaustion...sleeping with Cassian and hoping that maybe the pleasure of that would wipe away the nightmares…

Nothing worked.

Nothing helped. Each time she closed her eyes, the same images would invade her mind. The endless days of battle, the gruelling journey through the mountains, the horrors of the Blood Rite...they all appeared with a sickening vividness that made it seem like she wasn't just experiencing a mere nightmare, but actually reliving those horrible days.

It made her throw up and want to cry...want to roll herself together in a miserable little ball because she didn't know what else to do anymore

The panic rose in her chest, making her heart pound in her ears. She was getting desperate, desperately searching for a way to make the nightmares stop. She was considering sleeping outside, on the balcony in the night air, just for a change of scenery.

It seemed ridiculous, but...but at this point...at this point, she'd try anything.

She took a shaking breath, her hand gripping the balcony railing tighter, her knuckles turning white. The night air, usually so calming, was doing little to ease the tightness in her chest.

She was contemplating going back inside and trying to sleep again...just closing her eyes and hoping that maybe this time she would experience something different...when suddenly, she heard the flapping of wings...

Nesta turned her head towards the sound, her senses on high alert. The wings sounded large, powerful, and...familiar.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Azriel appeared before her, slipping over the balcony railing, shadows swirling around his shoulders. "Nesta," he greeted her calmly, giving her a slow nod...like it was totally normal for him to appear on her balcony in the middle of the night.

"You weren't there at dinner," she blurted out because she hadn't seen him since this morning.

"I had a late dinner with an old friend," Azriel answered. Azriel's response made sense, even if the notion of a "late dinner" with an old friend sounded strange to Nesta. But then again, who was she to judge? Azriel spent most of his time being the Spymaster of the Night Court, so she supposed it shouldn't surprise her that he had...odd friends.

"Oh," was all she could manage in response.

"I didn't know you had friends." She immediately regretted her words but Azriel just chuckled.

"Just the one," he promised her, as he leaned against the railing next to her. She caught a sense clinging to him that she couldn't place.

She eyed him carefully, her eyes taking in the mysterious shadow clinging to him. It was a scent that she couldn't quite place, but it was oddly...familiar, too.

Azriel chuckled again, his voice still as calm and steady as ever.

"Just the one," he repeated. "An old friend, from a long time ago."

"Can't sleep?" He asked quietly, his voice a deep rumble.

She gave a slight nod, not looking at Azriel. The nightmares were the one thing she didn't want to discuss with him or anyone for that matter. She didn't want them to know how weak she was, how she still couldn't get a rein on her emotions and her thoughts. She didn't want them to think any more of her as a fragile, broken thing than they already did.

The thought of it, it made her sick.

But...but she had a feeling that Azriel wouldn't judge her, or look at her in that way. Maybe she could...maybe she could ask for help. Or at least...let him know that something was wrong.

She swallowed hard and then said, her voice hardly more than a whisper: "No, I can't...I can't sleep. The...the nightmares."

Azriel gave a nod as if he already knew. His voice was still that same calm and steady as he said, "The Blood Rite?"

Nesta gave another nod. How had he guessed so easily? But then again...it wasn't that hard to guess. The nightmares hadn't started until after that event.

But at least these days she didn't wake up with her entire room engulfed in silver flames anymore.  She took a shaking breath, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She wasn't a child. She shouldn't be affected by this. She shouldn't be this much of a mess...

"I am surprised you didn't wake up Cassian when you got up," Azriel said suddenly.

Nesta’s eyes widened a little bit at that. Was she that obvious? Did she look that shake? She had hoped she'd done a better job of putting up a mask in front of the others.

"I didn't want to bother him," she replied quietly. "Let him sleep...I wake him often enough."

"He's your mate," Azriel said evenly. "He would want to be there for you."

His words were like a punch to the gut. She knew that her mate would want to be there for her, and would want to help her. Hell, he probably would already be here, holding her, comforting her...if he knew how bad the nightmares were.

But...but she didn't want to burden him like that. She couldn't keep burdening him...

"He tries to comfort me and then he gets no sleep as well. And I will not be the reason why he has a moment of inattentiveness that ends up costing his life, just because I can't control myself," Nesta hissed.

Her voice was bitter as she spoke. She hated admitting it, saying it out loud...but it was true. She was a burden. She was holding Cassian back, making him waste his nights trying to soothe her instead of getting the rest and preparation he needed for a mission.

She couldn't keep doing that to him. She just...she just couldn't.

A silence fell between them then, her words hanging in the air. She didn't know what Azriel was thinking, what was going on in his head. But he didn't try and refute her words, which only further confirmed the terrible thoughts swirling in her mind.

Another beat of silence, as Nesta let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

Another beat of silence, as she let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

"You are not a burden," he repeated, his voice even. "You are anything but."

She didn't reply, just continued staring out over the railing, her hands gripping the cold stone until her knuckles turned white. She was a burden, she knew that. And she didn't know why he was lying to her, trying to convince her otherwise.

"I have nightmares too," Azriel said suddenly.

Her eyes widened and she jerked her head around to look at him. Wait, what? Azriel had nightmares?

Her mouth opened, an astonished question on her lips, but Azriel didn't give her the chance to ask. He continued in the same even tone as if it was no big deal: "And many of them are about the Blood Rite too."

Her mind was reeling at his confession. Azriel had nightmares about the Blood Rite? The strong, mysterious warrior, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster of the Night Court?

She couldn't even process the words. And he said it so casually, so nonchalantly as if he was merely discussing the weather and not admitting to being tormented by such horrible, painful nightmares.

"Even now, 500 years after it happened."

His voice was still emotionless, still so calm and steady, even as he admitted that.

It was unfathomable. How...how did he manage to survive through 500 years of these nightmares? She barely could make it a week…

She couldn't even fathom what it would be like, to have those memories torment her for 500 years and counting. To have no hope of them ever stopping.

A silence fell between them, her mind reeling at Azriel's confession. She was about to ask something, to say something...when he suddenly spoke again.

"You want them to stop? The nightmares?" He asked, his voice quiet, yet with a hint of command in it. A hint of that darkness within him, the shadows that swirled around him like an ever-present cloak.

Her eyes widened, a shiver running down her spine at the command in his voice. She gave a slow nod, not trusting her voice to speak.

Somehow...somehow the shadows around him seemed to swirl and dance a little faster, seeming almost excited at her nodded response.

She would give everything for these nightmares to stop

Her voice was a mere whisper, but the honesty in it seemed to resonate like an echo in the night's silence.

She would give anything to stop reliving those memories, to stop seeing those images, to stop...to stop feeling this pain. Anything, she'd give anything for that respite.

Azriel continued to regard her with those dark eyes, those shadows whirling around him. A part of her wondered, for a moment, just what the shadows were thinking. Did they know what Azriel was about to offer, what he was going to say? Was that why they seemed so excited, so anxious…

"Then let's go." He said that so easily as he held out his hand for her and Nesta took it.

In a heartbeat, she'd taken his hand, her slender fingers closing around his. His grip was warm, strong, and...and it felt oddly steadying. Like an anchor to the ground.

The shadows engulfed them in a swirling vortex of darkness. For a moment, her heart thundered in her chest, a brief moment of panic at the feeling of being lost amid the shadows, at being so far from the ground.

But then...then the shadows seemed to shift, Azriel's firm grip on her hand the only anchor to reality, to the ground.

A moment later, the shadows faded away, and she found herself standing in a street in Velaris.

"I thought you couldn't winnow at the House of Wind," she said weakly.

"No winnowing. Shadow Walking," Azriel corrected her absentmindedly.

What? She had no clue what even was the difference.

"I am only wearing my nightgown," she hissed at him a moment later.

For the first time since they'd left the balcony, Azriel turned towards her, his eyes taking in her appearance, raking over her form.

His dark eyes scanned over her frame, her pale nightgown and slippered feet. For a moment, she felt self-conscious, almost shrinking back from that gaze...but then a smirk curled his lips.

"Don't worry, she won't care," he said drily. "She's seen a lot worse. And a lot more."

“It’s the middle of the night!” she protested next. 

“It’s a full moon. She’s pretty much nocturnal during this time of the month,” he waved her off. 

What kind of friend was this even?!

"Who is she?" Nesta demanded as Azriel led her to a door that was looking...harmless.

"Just a friend," Azriel said simply, his step not faltering as he led her towards the unassuming door.

It looked ordinary, so much so that a passerby would never guess that there was anything special behind it.

He didn't elaborate on the mysterious "she" who was behind the door...and Nesta had a feeling that he wouldn't, not until the moment she would see his friend for herself.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as they approached the door, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation swirling within her.

Azriel was being infuriatingly coy about everything. He wouldn't tell her who they were visiting, how he knew this person, or why this person could help her.

All she could do was follow him towards the unassuming door, her nightgown swishing around her ankles.

When they reached the door, Azriel gave her a slight smirk, as if silently saying, "Ready to find out?"

Nesta shot him a glare back, her eyes narrowing. If he was trying to drive her crazy, he was doing a good job of it.

She had about 5 different insults on the tip of her tongue, but before she had a chance to voice any of them, Azriel pushed open the door, revealing a...darkly elegant interior.

Her breath caught as she stepped across the threshold, her eyes scanning over the elegant yet dark interior of the shop.

Dark tapestries hung on the walls, illuminated by the dim light of the numerous candles scattered throughout. The scent of various herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the lingering scent of something...stronger. There was a...mysterious energy to the place, a sense of something ancient and powerful.

And then, Nesta came eye to eye with a pitch black...something. Golden eyes with slitted pupils watched her from the darkness and she froze. Like a cat, it stared at her. But for a cat, it was...too big. Too tall. It would at least reach Azriel's waist.

Her heart quickened at the sight of the...thing, watching her with its unblinking golden eyes. It was like a cat, but wrong, far too big to be a house cat. She was frozen, her body tense as she held the gaze of the feline creature before her.

She was about to whisper to Azriel what the hell this thing was if he could explain this...but it was Azriel who broke the silence.

"Hello, Bella," Azriel said, his voice smooth and even.

His words sent a small shock through her, her eyes widening as she stared between the strange cat creature and Azriel. Bella? This creature was named Bella.

Azriel continued, as if oblivious to her shock, "I hope you don't mind me bringing some company this late at night."

The feline creature...Bella...huffed in response, seeming to look at Azriel with those golden eyes, as if silently judging him.

For a moment, Nesta was convinced that the creature would attack them, throw them out of the house, but then...

Suddenly, Bella turned her golden gaze back to her, those feline eyes seeming to scan her from head to toe.

And then it moved.

Bella moved with a fluid, almost graceful motion, its jet-black fur rippling as it stepped out of the shadows, its golden eyes still on Nesta.

It was a cat. A massive cat. A huge cat. Big enough that it would reach Azriel’s waist. Bella yawned, showing a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. Nesta thought she was going to faint

The cat-like creature circled her, its movements slow and deliberate. Her heart was still thundering in her chest, her eyes wide as she followed Bella's every movement, half prepared to flee if the creature attacked.

Nesta tried to remain steady, to keep her breathing even, but her heart was racing, drumming against her chest.

Bella continued circling her, those golden eyes never leaving her form for a second. It was like the creature was studying her, silently judging her, and it made her feel...uncomfortable.

"Oh, she likes you," a female voice said. "Did you bring us a toy, Shadowsinger?"

The new voice startled her, and her head jerked to the side just in time to see a woman moving into the room, stepping out of the shadows near the back of the room.

The woman was…utterly gorgeous, with green eyes and long red hair cascading down her back. 

Her eyes widened as she took in the woman before her, her body covered in a gold satin nightgown that clung to her curves and left very little to the imagination.

The woman -who could only be called a Goddess - smirked and was amused as she took in Nesta, her eyes scanning over her from head to toe in the same manner as Bella had.

She was clearly taking in every detail, her gaze sharp and unwavering, as if evaluating every bit of her appearance and body.

"I am not a toy," Nesta bristled.

"Of course not," the woman said with a smile, her voice smooth and silky. "But you are  very pretty."

The compliment sounded more like a statement, like the woman was judging a painting or a piece of jewellery. Her words were not rude...but they didn't hold much kindness, either, more like simple facts.

And they didn't do anything to soothe that flicker of envy that had arisen in Nesta at the sight of the other woman's beauty.

"We are in need of your services, Cate," Azriel said at that moment. Cate. Such a normal name...for such a woman. Her ears were pointed but...Nesta would have bet anything that she wasn't High Fae. She wasn't sure what she was but she wasn't...

Her eyes darted to Azriel, who had stepped up next to her, his gaze on the woman - Cate, it seemed she was called - with an expectant look.

"Services?" Cate repeated with a raised brow, her eyes flickering between them, before a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. "And what sort of services can I render you, Shadowsinger?"

Her mind was spinning to try to make sense of the exchange, of that subtle… undercurrent of something that lay just beneath the words.

It was almost like there was a conversation happening she wasn't privy to, like they were speaking in a language she didn't understand.

She glanced at Azriel, trying to read his expression, but he was giving nothing away.

Cate's smirk widened as she took in both of them, her green eyes scanning over them with that sharpness that made Nesta feel more self-conscious of her own plain nightgown.

Azriel, meanwhile, remained as stoic, his features betraying nothing of his thoughts. He seemed to be waiting...but waiting for what, exactly?

The silence seemed to stretch on between them, the tension so heavy that Nesta could almost feel it pressing against her skin.

But then Cate moved, the silky fabric of her nightgown flowing around her as she took a few steps towards Azriel. Her eyes were still on Nesta, a smirk still on her lips as she purred out, "Why don't you tell me what services you require?" The woman's voice was low, almost sultry, and her eyes...her eyes were still on Nesta, studying her still.

Azriel's face remained expressionless as he spoke, his voice calm as he said, "She is in need of your help. She's been having nightmares. Bad ones. The same ones, over and over."

Cate's face changed into a look of understanding, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she took in the information. Her eyes flickered towards Nesta before returning to Azriel.

"The same nightmare," she repeated, her voice now thoughtful, before adding, "Every time?"

Azriel gave a grave nod, his voice steady as he replied, "Yes. Every night."

Cate's eyes widened just a fraction, her face taking on that thoughtful expression again, as if contemplating the information.

The woman suddenly moved towards a small table on the side, gesturing with a, "Sit. I'll make us some tea." Cate's words caught her off guard, her eyes widening a fraction…At that moment, Bella the cat walked over to her and rubbed herself against her legs.

Nesta froze for a moment, half expecting the creature to bite her. Instead, the cat merely purred as it rubbed its head against her shin. She glanced at Azriel questioningly, but he only shrugged in response, seemingly well used to the cat’s…usual antics. 

She took the hint, stepping over to the nearest chair and hesitantly taking a seat.

The room was so still, the only sound was the soft rustle of Cate's nightgown as she moved to prepare the tea, the occasional purring of the cat…now letting itself be pet by Azriel, leaning its massive head against his thigh. 

Azriel relaxed. She had never seen him that relaxed before. The shadows were swirling around Bella, the cat lazily swiping at them and that was that. 

Nesta, on the other hand, was anything but relaxed.

"What is she?" Nesta hissed at Azriel.

Azriel's expression remained unchanging, his gaze fixed on Cate as she moved about the room, preparing the tea. "Cate?" He repeated, not looking at her. "She's a witch."

Nesta's eyebrows shot up at the revelation. A witch? 

A witch. The one time she had been confronted with the idea of a witch had been in Illyria. Devlon had been terrified at the idea of Nesta being a witch.

Her mind immediately flashed back to her time in that cold, wretched camp.

Devlon, the sneering face of the war-camp lord. The memory of that small village, the whispered conversations…She couldn't help but remember the fear in Devlon's eyes when he confronted her about the rumours about her being a witch. He'd almost looked terrified like the mere thought of a witch was enough to frighten him.

And here in front of her, a witch stood before her, preparing to make her tea. She tried to keep her nerves in check, but her heart was hammering furiously.

Cate set the tea set down on the table in front of them, her movements graceful and fluid, like every move was a performance.

"Don't worry, I haven't eaten anyone in centuries," Cate quipped as she brought the tea to the table. "You can ask Azriel."

Cate's words startled her, a jolt of...fear mixed with surprise rushing through her at the woman's casual mention of potentially eating someone.

Slowly, Nesta turned back to Cate, trying to control the pounding of her heart in her chest. "You...haven't eaten anyone. In centuries," she repeated, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

Cate gave her a smile that was full of teeth as if she knew exactly what effect her words were having on her. She seemed to find the whole thing amusing, her green eyes sparkling with humour, as if she was enjoying the fact that she was frightening her.

Azriel started laughing.

Nesta turned towards him quickly, utterly bewildered by the sound.

He was laughing. Azriel was laughing, his eyes sparkling with...amusement at the look on her face.

"She's joking," he said, his voice laced with humour. “A poor sense of humour, but still a joke.”

"You tend to like my sense of humour," Cate quipped, seating herself, a smile playing around her mouth. "I have never eaten another fae or faeries, I promise you, Nesta Archeron," she said easily.

Cate's words should have reassured her, but still, there was something about her that made her feel...unsettled. Cate moved with the grace of a predator, her every gesture full of a...confidence, a power, that was hard to ignore.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.

Cate's smile grew wider at the sound of her question, her green eyes lighting up with amusement.

"Azriel told me, of course," she said, her voice smooth and silky.

Her gaze flicked over to Azriel, who was still watching the interaction with those calm hazel eyes.

It was...annoying. He was just watching them, like this was all some sort of game to him. Was it all just...a game?

Nesta couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation at the thought. And at the fact that he seemed perfectly relaxed while she felt like she was ready to jump out of her skin

Cate noticed the irritation on her face and her smile grew wider, a spark of mischief in her eyes as she took in her expression.

"You're annoyed, aren't you?" Cate said smoothly, her voice full of amusement. "Annoyed that Azriel hasn't told you more about me, hasn't warned you about the 'scary witch'."

She couldn't help but flinch at the accuracy of Cate's words. She was annoyed. Annoyed that Azriel had brought her here without properly preparing her, without telling her more about the woman she was about to meet. It all felt...like a power play.

"It's not about you, it's about that mate of yours," Cate said with a shrug. "The General and I have had a rather...tumultuous past."

"With that, she means that she has once stabbed Cassian on general principle," Azriel jumped in with some amusement. "He has never forgiven her."

She felt her eyes widen in surprise, not just at the revelation that Cate had stabbed Cassian, but at the casual way Azriel mentioned it.

And yet, somehow, she suspected there was a lot more to the story than that...and that there was also a lot left unsaid between the two of them.

Cate rolled her eyes at Azriel's comment, her voice full of dry humour. "Cassian has always been one for holding a grudge, hasn't he?"

Her gaze flicked between the two of them, her mind swirling with questions...and curiosity.

There was a history here, between the two of them. A history filled with, it seemed, a whole lot of tension and...probably a lot of violence. And yet, they still seemed friendly. Even close, in a way.

Nesta was dying to know more, to dig deeper into the complexities of their relationship, but they were both being so...cryptic, answering some questions while conveniently ignoring others.

"Now," Cate spoke, her voice soft, "How long, exactly, have you been having these nightmares, Nesta?"

Her attention snapped back to Cate at her question, the mention of the nightmares sending a pang of anxiety through her.

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady as she answered, "A few months, now."

Cate's face grew serious at her reply, the amusement and mischief in her demeanour fading away, replaced by a look of concern. She leaned back in her chair, studying Nesta intently like she was trying to discern something from her expression.

"A few months," she repeated thoughtfully. "And they're every night?"

She gave a small nod, her heart rate picking up at the intensity of Cate's gaze. She didn't like how perceptive those green eyes were, how it felt like the woman was able to see straight through her, straight into her mind.

"They get...worse, every time," she muttered, her voice low. "Louder, more vivid."

She could feel Azriel's eyes on her as she spoke, the weight of his gaze heavy on her skin. But she didn't look at him, too focused on Cate, on the witch studying her so intently.

"The Dreamcatcher Spell," Azriel said, his voice even. "Can you cast that on her?"

Cate's eyes flicked to Azriel for a moment, a flicker of some undefinable emotion passing over her face before her gaze returned to Nesta. She took in the Shadowsinger's request, considering it for a moment.

Finally, she nodded, her voice calm and cool as she replied, "I can. Yes."

Her heart skipped a beat at Cate's confirmation, a mixture of anticipation and...fear stirring inside her. The Dreamcatcher Spell. She had no idea what that was, what it would do. But Azriel seemed to trust Cate.

"What..." she began, faltering briefly before steadying her voice. "What exactly does that spell do?"

Cate's expression was calm as she replied, "It's meant to help with vivid, recurring nightmares." Her eyes, though...her eyes seemed to hold a flicker of something else, something that made her stomach twist. "It won't help you get rid of the nightmares altogether, but it will...ease them, a little. Blurr them around the edges. Make it possible for you to go back to sleep...it blunts the emotions attached to these memories."

Her breaths came out a little faster at Cate's explanation, her heart rate increasing at the thought of...having the nightmares be eased, even a little. It sounded...too good to be true, almost.

She glanced at Azriel, whose expression was unreadable, before turning back to Cate. "And...there's no drawbacks? Nothing I should be worried about?" Cate gave her a shrug, the corners of her lips turning up in a small smile.

"Do you really think Azriel would trust me with his sister's mind if he hadn't had me cast the same spell over him dozens of times?"

His sister? He claimed her as his sister? 

Her head snapped towards him, but Azriel just inclined his head. 

Azriel trusted her The Shadowsinger, who was always so careful, who was so skilled at maintaining his secrets, trusted this...strange witch enough to let her cast spells on his mind?

"There's nothing to be worried about. The worst side effect could be a headache," Cate continued. "And that would be from an unskilled witch."

Her eyes flickered back to Cate, her mind still struggling to sort through the implications of all this. Azriel really did trust the woman and...

She wanted to believe her. Wanted to trust Cate's words, and believe that there were no dangers or side effects.

But a small part of her mind was still sceptical, wary of letting someone—a witch even—mess with her mind.

"How much does it cost?"

Cate's smile widened at her question, a hint of sharp teeth visible as she leaned back in her chair, her hands coming to rest on the armrests.

"You are wary about letting me mess with your mind, aren't you?" she said smoothly, her voice full of humour. "You're thinking, 'What's the price I'll have to pay for this?'"

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep her voice steady as she asked again, "How much?"

Cate's smile grew into a full-fledged grin as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I'm not going to take your firstborn if that's what you're worried about," she said, her voice still amused. "I don't want gold or jewels or anything of the sort."

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction at Cate's words, her anxiety receding slightly at the reassurance that she wouldn't have to pay anything like those things. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more...a catch.

"Then...what?" she asked, her voice still a little wary.

Cate's expression didn't change as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flickering over to Azriel for a moment before returning to Nesta.

"You don't need to worry about that," she finally said, her voice calm. "Azriel and I…We've...done each other a few favours, over the years.""

Her heart leapt into her throat at Cate's words, her mind swirling with more questions. Favours? Azriel had asked favours of the witch? What kinds of favours?

"That's all?" Nesta insisted, her eyes narrowing a fraction. It didn't sound like that was, in fact, all. The way Cate kept looking at Azriel, the way she said they had done each other ‘favours'...

It sounded like there was a lot more to that than she was being told.

Nesta shot Azriel a look, her eyes narrowing at his seemingly relaxed demeanour. He was being so...unfazed by all of this. So calm, while she was the apprehensive one. He really didn't seem concerned about her letting Cate cast the spell.

Nesta let out a breath, letting her eyes focus back on Cate.

She also hadn’t expected to be led into a chalk circle in the middle of Cate’s living room…or for her to light the candles with a wave of her hand…

Nesta watched in complete befuddlement, her eyes wide as Cate began to chant. The language sounded...foreign, guttural, the words flowing out in a steady rhythm.

She had expected...something different. She had no idea what, but it wasn't this.

Her breathing was uneven, her heart pounding in her chest, the sound almost drowning out the strange language.

And then it was done. 

Nesta watched as Cate finished her chant, the final words reverberating through the air like a spell. For a moment, the room was utterly quiet.

And then...nothing happened.

She stared at Cate, waiting for...something, anything. But the witch just kneeled there, peering at her through half-lidded eyes.

"That's it?" Nesta asked, her voice coming out hoarse and a little shaky. "It's...done?"

Cate gave her a small smile, not saying anything, just watching her with that intense green gaze of hers.

She shifted a little in her position, feeling strangely...naked under the woman's stare.

"That's it," Cate agreed. "What did you think was going to happen?"

She swallowed, feeling a little foolish for her question. She didn't really know what she was expecting. Something flashy, maybe. Or some...sign, some kind of indication that the spell worked.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice a little sheepish. "I suppose I thought...it would be more dramatic, somehow."

Cate let out a chuckle at her words, the sound rich and amused. "That's what everyone expects," she said. "Some grand gesture, some great wave of magic."

She lifted her hand, a small flicker of green magic dancing over her fingertips. "The truth is," she continued, "most spells are not as interesting as people think they are."

"Most?" she repeated, her voice curious. "So some are?"

Cate's lips curled into a small, sharp smile at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

"Oh, some definitely can be," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "It depends on the witch, really. Some love to show off. Others...prefer the subtle approach."

"Don't let her fool you, she loves to show off," Azriel said drily.

"Only for you, shadowsinger," Cate shot back, flirtation clear in her voice. And then, somehow the last thing Nesta had expected…The last thing was for her to gain her feet, cross the room and kiss Azriel. Right on the mouth.

She could only watch in stunned silence as the kiss deepened, as the Shadowsinger's hands came up to caress Cate's face, to pull her closer.

It was so...unbelievable. So unreal. But also...so...hot.

She kinda wished Cassian was there. 

The thoughts swirled in her mind, her body heating up just from watching them. Watching Azriel lean in to kiss this dangerous, gorgeous witch with effortless grace like he'd done it a thousand times.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the kiss ended. Azriel stepped back, his cheeks flushed and his breathing slightly uneven.

Cate, on the other hand, looked completely unflustered, her hair still perfectly arranged, her expression unruffled. She simply smiled at him, a secretive, intimate smile, before turning back to Nesta.

For a moment, all Nesta could do was sit there, utterly gobsmacked, her mouth still hanging open slightly.

Finally, she found her voice, forcing out, "Uh...How...long has that...?"

Because, judging by the casual intimacy between them, this...relationship, or whatever it was, definitely wasn’t new.

Cate let out a small laugh at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

The look in her eyes was almost...predatory, as she added, "We've been… friends… for a very long time, haven't we, shadowsinger?"

At her words, Azriel's cheeks darkened, his ears turning slightly red as he let out a grunt of assent.

Nesta’s eyes darted to Azriel, taking in his flushed cheeks and averted gaze, the way he shifted his weight slightly, as if uncomfortable. It was so rare to see him off-balance, so rare to see him anything but completely composed.

And it was all Cate's fault. This witch somehow had the Shadowsinger flustered and blushing like a schoolboy.

"We've had...quite the history," Cate continued, her voice smooth and velvety.

Her words were cryptic, and somehow also laced with innuendo, as if there was a whole world behind them, a world full of…memories.

Nesta couldn’t help but wonder just how...intimate their 'history' was.

"Now, if the nightmares persist, have Azriel bring you back to me. Otherwise, you should be nightmare-free for the next few months,” Cate said easily. 

She nodded numbly, her mind still trying to process the implications of all this.

Nightmare-free for the next few months. That was good. That was...incredible, actually.

But her mind was still swirling with so many other things…mainly Azriel and Cate and this...history of theirs that she knew nothing about.

"And…" she began, faltering slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts. "If I...do need to come back..."

Nesta trailed off, her eyes flickering to Azriel as she thought of what she was about to say. It felt intrusive, and yet she couldn’t help herself from asking, “What are your…rates?”

Cate raised an eyebrow at the question, tilting her head as a small smile curled her lips.

"My rates?" she repeated, amusement clear in her voice. "Well, that depends on the…service, I suppose. Some things can be done for a few gold coins."

The look in her eyes, in Azriel’s eyes, said some things couldn’t be bought.

Her mind was still trying to process the implications of that, when Cate spoke again, her voice now completely free of amusement. "But some things...can’t."

Azriel visibly stiffened at her words, his eyes flickering to the witch, a silent communication passing between the two of them.

"Some things," Cate reiterated, her eyes fixed on Azriel, "can only be paid for in... favours."

Nesta was getting the distinct feeling that she was intruding on some unspoken conversation between them, on some agreement, maybe, that she knew nothing about.

"What kind of… favours?" she asked, glancing between Azriel and Cate, her mind swimming with possibilities.

Cate smiled a sharp, predatory smile, her eyes flickering to Azriel before returning to her.

"That," she said, her voice now dripping with sweet condescension, "Is for Azriel to explain, should he choose. Though I’m sure you’ve gathered some idea of what such favours could entail by now."

Azriel rolled his eyes. Nesta stifled a small laugh at Azriel's reaction, his eye roll speaking volumes. It was clear that he was used to Cate's taunting, used to her...provocation.

"Good Night, Cate," he said drily and the witch laughed as they left the house.

"See you soon, Shadowsinger!" she sing-songed in response.

The night air outside was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warm intimacy of the cottage.

Nesta took a deep breath, trying to clear her head off the whirlwind thoughts that had been running through it.

The kiss between Cate and Azriel, their history, their…agreements.

It was all so…unexpected. So strange and…intriguing.

"I thought you were in love with Mor," she finally settled on saying.

Azriel shot her a look at her words, a mix of irritation and...amusement, perhaps.

"I am," he replied, his voice gruff. "But Cate and I…" He paused, his expression becoming contemplative as he chose his next words carefully. "Cate and I have...history. It's...complicated."

"And Elain?" Nesta asked, crossing her arms. Whatever had been going on between Azriel and her younger sister…before it had come to a screeching halt sometimes around Winter Solstice. 

Azriel's face shuttered slightly at the mention of Elain, his jaw tightening. "Elain…" he began, his voice hoarse as he looked away. "That's…over. It was a mistake, really." His voice was rough, almost...ashamed as if the memory of his involvement with her sister pained him

"Elain has a mate," Azriel said carefully. "It has been made very clear to me that I have no right to interfere with that." The way he said these words made Nesta wonder who exactly had done that. 

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice as he spoke, a resentment that he quickly masked with a brusque "It doesn’t matter."

But, it did. It mattered to him, that much was obvious from the tightness of his expression, from the tenseness of his shoulders.

She could guess who had made that clear to him.

Feyre must have found out about it – or, perhaps, Rhysand. And they must have intervened.

She swallowed. It made her uneasy, though she understood why Azriel had…pulled back from that. Unless Elain finally outright turned Lucien down…getting in the middle of that was just begging for a fallout. 

“And you and Cate?” she asked hesitantly. 

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction.

"Cate and I..." he repeated, his voice hoarse. "We have...a history, as she said. An agreement, you could call it."

He let out a huff of breath, almost like a sigh.

"We're...friends," he finally said, his voice firm, though there was an edge in it that suggested there was more to it than that

“Cate…Cate makes it very clear what she wants from me,” Azriel said quietly. “When we happen to be in the same place, every few years, we…spend time together. We aren’t beholden to each other in any way. She takes other lovers and so do I,” he said with a shrug. 

Azriel’s words were quiet, spoken matter-of-factly, as if he were simply stating a fact. But there was an undertone of something deeper there, hints of…feeling, maybe.

It was so rare to see Azriel openly talk about this stuff, to lay bare even a portion of his personal life.

“Cate has never been scared of me. I appreciate that.” 

He said that like he held that so precious. That little fact. 

Nesta could just stare at him. 

"It’s...nice," he said quietly. "Being with someone who doesn't...shy away. She’s much scarier than I am after all,” he quipped, a small smile on his far too handsome face. 

[halloween-sweets]

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The Witching Hour #1 by Alex Toth