#ACOTAR Nightmare

[caycanteven]

Possible ACOTAR Spoilers below the cut! It’s mostly an inspired piece~

✨To the stars who listen…and the dreams that are answered…✨

[kataraavatara]

dare I dip my toes into acotar fandom discourse….

[silverflameataraxia]

Feyre says that very few people like Nesta. Mor says that she's a wicked monster who would thrive in the CoN, and doesn't deserve the benefit of the doubt. Cassian says that everyone hates her.

Meanwhile, Nesta is out here making friends like nobody's business: Gwyn, Emerie, the Valkyries, Clotho (really it feels like Nesta's befriended all the priestesses except Merrill), Bryce, Ember, Randall.

And then, of course, there's Eris, who wants to marry her after only three dances.

The IC are really the only ones who can't see how amazing Nesta is.

[nestastits]

Rhys is so funny now that I think about it. Little him was bringing home tortured orphans like stray cats and telling his mama “this one good, I keep him?🥺” 😭😭😭

[sunnybyler]

i know the acosf court of nightmares scene has already been analyzed to death but something i don’t see mentioned quite enough is the fact that elain is mentioned to be wearing pearls in this scene — which lucien gifts her that same solstice. the very same scene where it goes in depth on how much black, the color of the night court, sucks the life out of her. its so clearly a subtle way to show how lucien sees her even when she’s drowning and hidden in the night court and i just love the symbolism of this scene so much <3

[elleybug]

Keres Vanserra (from here ) and her intended, A Darkbringer lord from the Court of Nightmare.

[i-only-see-daylight]

Feyre: What are you in the mood for? 

Rhysand: World domination. 

Feyre: That's a bit ambitious. 

Rhysand: You are my world. 

Feyre: Aww... 

[long pause]

Feyre: OH.

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway. 

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy. 

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air,  "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

 "I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice. 

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

 "You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up." 

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch. 

 "Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod. 

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

[grayoil]

Some sketches of a head canon I have about what they look like during the first Highburn war.

The High Lord and his new Shadowsinger

[witheverynesta]

Imagine you're in the CoN and your high lord & lady visit and you have to watch her sit on his lap as he fingers her while knowing you will forever be trapped under a dark mountain with no way to feel the sun on your face or grass under your foot or hear the birds chirping with the knowledge that your steward is an evil man and that your high lord's rich little circle has never made an effort to change things for the better or realize that there are other "dreamers" here and your only hope of any change is a woman whose personality is wearing red and who can't stop thinking about herself but she also absolutely hates your guts for no reason other than the fact that you were born in the Hewn City and who hasn't faced or gotten over her trauma in the 500+ miserable years of her existence.

[dippedinmelancholy]

the real question is why Rhysand and co makes the court of nightmares live under a mountain and expects them to be vaguely fucking normal. Would you be normal if you'd never seen the sun? a blooming flower? felt fresh air? Or would you be batshit insane and violent after seeing nothing but stone, stale air, and the same fucking people you've seen all your life??????? Idc if people hate me for it, I'm a CoN sympathizer. These people are fucking victims repeating the cycle trying to survive an entire world that hates them, a leader that will never stand for them or protect them. If Nesta had been sent there like Mor wanted her too, she only would have hated Rhysand more after seeing the abuse.

[ennawrite]

Rhysand with the citizens of Hewn City & the Illyrian camps

[kataraavatara]

i know they have a whole “mor was the only good person to exist in the CoN ever” thing going on but what a fucked up and dehumanizing way to think about your own people. “tainting the city with their presence” Jesus Christ. “These people” you’ve met one of them.

[serpentandlily]

Scared to Be Happier - Azriel x Reader

Scared to be Happier - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel finds his mate in the Court of Nightmares and she is whisked away to Velaris to be saved. But when someone spends so long being beaten down and angry, sometimes broken is all they'll ever be.

Warnings: Angst, Smut (minors dni), Drug and Alcohol Usage

a/n: Heavily inspired by the song Happier by Yungblud/Oli Sykes. This one is for all my girlies who self-sabotage and break things because that is all they've ever known, who are scared to be happy because of the fear of the fall when it all gets taken away.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A pounding on your door pulled you from your thoughts. You let out a sigh as your apartment came back into focus, mirthroot smoke swirling in the air along with the stench of whiskey. You stood from the couch, stretching out your limbs before moving to the door.

You had to kick a few empty wine bottles out of your path, the evidence of last night’s adventures. 

When you pulled open the door, you weren’t surprised to see the shadowsinger standing there. His handsome face was unreadable, his eyes checking over you from head to toe. You smiled, lazily, his face shifting in and out of focus. 

“Azriel,” you greeted. His eyes narrowed on your face. 

You knew what you must look like to him. Kohl smeared under your eyes, hair in disarray, standing there in only your underwear and a large shirt whose owner you were unsure of. 

You stepped back, letting him walk inside and shut the door behind him. 

“You’re high again.”

His voice was deep, husky, as he peered around the mess in your apartment. You shrugged, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. It was the truth. You spent most of your days in a haze. One you sought after through the use of drugs and alcohol. Mirthroot helped numb your mind. The alcohol helped numb your feelings.

“Don’t act like you care,” you said, flatly. “Not now.” 

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face you. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that.”

“The truth?”

He stalked towards you, until he was so close you had to tilt your head up to stare at him. His hand raised, his knuckles brushing against your rosy cheeks. “It’s not the truth. And you know it.” 

Your own hand climbed up his chest until it rested right over his heart, the heart that beat in rhythm with yours. 

“I know what you’re here for,” you purred, ignoring his remark. 

This was the game. Azriel would come here, pretend to care, if only long enough for the two of you to fall into bed together. Then you’d wake up and he’d be gone. And you wouldn’t see him again until he felt guilty enough to check-in on you again. After all, he was the reason you were here. 

Azriel rested his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your check. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“You’re not sorry,” you whispered, staring into his hypnotizing hazel eyes. “You enjoy this. You enjoy being around someone as miserable as you. I know you, Azriel. Better than that family of yours does.” 

“You know nothing,” he growled.

But then he surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. Like he always did when the conversation turned more personal. But you met him halfway, also not wanting to talk anymore. Not when the mirthroot kept your head so light. Not when it felt so good to have Azriel’s lips against yours. 

He groaned, pushing you further against the counter, his hips digging into yours. His hand snaked into your hair, pulling your head back so he could deepen the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You needed this as much as he did.

The bond in your chest sang at his touch. Your body already reacting to him. 

He lifted you onto the counter, parting your thighs with his leg so he could stand between them. His hard cock pressed against your barely covered center, causing both of you to moan. He trailed kisses down your jaw, to your throat, tracing his canines over the fragile skin. 

Azriel wasted no time, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor, revealing your bare breasts to him. He groaned at the sight, running his hands down your body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he growled, before pushing you to lean back so he could trace kisses down your chest, taking one of your peaked nipples into his mouth. You groaned, twisting your hand in his dark hair. 

His hand slid up your thigh until his fingers hooked around the seam of your underwear and swiftly pulled it off of you, leaving you entirely naked in front of him. He moaned, dropping to his knees, staring at your glistening core. 

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he growled before leaning forward and taking a single lick up the center of your folds. Your head fell back against the cabinets at the sensation. 

“Please,” you begged. 

That was all he needed to hear, diving his tongue into you. You writhed on the counter as he flicked his tongue against your clit, his finger circling around your entrance. Your hips bucked as you moaned, needing more. 

Azriel knew your body, knew how to force you close to the edge so quickly with just his tongue. He knew the right time to finally push a finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out before adding a second one. You mewled, your first orgasm coming quickly. 

Azriel cursed as he felt you fall over the edge, as you pulsed around his fingers. He stood, still pushing his fingers in and out of you as his other hand worked to untie his leathers. You helped him, pushing his shirt off and he yanked his pants down. 

You stroked his dick up and down, licking your lips.

Azriel ripped your hand away with a growl. “I need to be in you. Now.” 

Before you could blink, he thrusted his cock into you, hard and fast. You both groaned as he seated himself inside of you, wrapping his large arms around your waist and pulling you tight against his bare chest. You were both panting, the bond that had still not been accepted glowed at your contact. 

Azriel gave you a few seconds to adjust before pulling all the way out and thrusting back into you just as hard. He growled, his head falling into the crevice of your neck as he set a punishing pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again, cursing. 

He pulled away, still thrusting in and out of you, to grab your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, his pace becoming faster, harder. “Your body was made for me. For me only.”

You fluttered around him in response to his possessive words. Words you knew meant nothing once this was all over. You groaned his name, relishing in the pain and pleasure of his hard thrusts. 

“Say it,” he growled, his grip on your chin tightening. “Say your mine.” 

“Gods, Azriel,” you moaned. “I’m yours.”

“Again,” he grunted, his thrusts not letting up. 

“Yours,” you cried out. “I’m yours.” 

His pupils were dilated, turning his hazel eyes black as he fucked you with a frenzy only a mate could. His free hand dipped between your legs, rubbing your clit. You cried out, feeling your second orgasm of the night building. 

“That’s it,” Azriel grunted. “You take me so well, pretty girl. So fucking good. Mine. You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agreed. The mirthroot made your head spin, the feeling of Azriel fucking you almost too much. You cried out again as your orgasm suddenly crashed through you like a wave. 

Azriel cursed, fucking you through your orgasm, until he couldn’t hold his rhythm anymore. His thrusts became sloppy, erratic, as he chased after his own high. You reached a hand out, stroking down the soft membrane of his beautiful wing, pushing him over the edge. 

“Fuck,” he growled loudly, burying himself inside of you as he exploded.

You could feel his hot seed inside of you. He pulled out a bit and pushed back in, making sure none of it was wasted. Your body was limp as he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you, holding you tight against his chest.

He carried you into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed. Your head was spinning now. You blinked, feeling the bond in your chest tighten at the sight of him. 

“Don’t even think of falling asleep,” he commanded with a growl, climbing over you. He caged your head with his arms, his mouth attaching itself to your neck again, kissing and sucking. “I’m not done with you.” 

Hours later, you watched him disappear in a flurry of shadows, only staying long enough to help clean you up after he made a mess of your body. This was how it was. He would come here, take what he needed from you and disappear. It used to hurt you more, used to tear your heart apart. Now…now you were numb to it. 

You were numb to most things, angry at the rest. 

But mostly, you were scared. And you knew he was too. Scared to push this any farther. Scared to dive into a territory you weren’t sure you were ready for. You didn’t belong here. You never would. You might’ve been dragged out of the Court of Nightmares but you had never truly left. 

Because that place had turned you into little more than ash. It had taken everything you were and crushed it, crushed it so thoroughly that you would never be able to glue back the pieces. And the High Lord and his dogs had been naive in thinking that they had rescued you, saved you.

They had not saved you.

They had not saved you because there was nothing left of you to be saved.  

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

One Year Ago

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The corset you were wearing under your dress was constricting, your lungs begging for a chance to breathe. The dress that was over it was hardly much better. But the High Lord and Lady were making an appearance today and so your father had the handmaidens get you ready, making you look proper enough to be in the Throne Room alongside him.

There was a part of you that liked when the High Lord and Lady came, only because you were allowed out of your chambers for once. The chambers your father basically had you shackled in. You were his youngest daughter, finally the age to be married off, and he was worried you’d go and pull a Morrigan if you were given even a sliver of freedom.

The other part of you hated the High Lord and Lady. Hated seeing their smug faces, their pretentious attitudes. Even her stupid stuck-up sisters and the two Illyrians walked around looking down their noses at everyone who lived in Hewn City. As if you were all bottom of the barrel, the fifth under their shoes. 

But your only crime in life was being born in this awful mountain. 

That was enough for them, it seemed. They had no interest in helping any of the fae stuck down here that wanted out, that weren’t the awful people you were thought to be. It didn’t matter to them. 

All that mattered was their perfect little city away from all the rats below. And you hated them for it. Hated all of them. 

In fact, hate was all you had ever known. Bruise after bruise. Strike after strike. Torn out and stomped on after cleaning your own blood from the floor when your father was done doling out his punishments for whatever he decided you’d done wrong that day, time and time again.

There was a time you prayed to the stars for help. 

But that time was over. 

“Rise,” the High Lord ordered after making all of you stay on your knees for what felt like eternity.

You were quick to stand, brushing your dress down as you did. Your father was hovering right next to you, as if he were ready to snatch you away the second he deemed it fit. 

Your eyes trailed over your two rulers before briefly passing over the Morrigan, Lady Death and The General, finally landing on the Shadowsinger.

He was stoic, hauntingly beautiful. But you already knew that. He was the one all the Ladies liked to pant over while their husbands were out of earshot. 

As if he could feel your stare, his gaze shot to you and you went back to staring at the floor. Your father grabbed you by the upper arm, leading you towards the front of the room where the other Lords were gathering. 

You spared a glance at the shadowsinger again, noticing he had moved now to the High Lord’s side and appeared to be whispering something in his ear. 

You went back to acting like a pretty little doll perched next to your father. After all, beauty was the only currency females had in Hewn City. That was all your mother had taught you before she died. 

Keep yourself pretty and then maybe you’d be rewarded with a husband who liked keeping you that way and would not leave bruises on your body. 

Your beauty never saved you from your father’s hand though. 

“Lord Thanatos,” the High Lord called out, causing the band to pause their playing and the others to go quiet. Your stomach twisted at the sound of your father’s name. “Please approach the Throne with your daughter.”

Your brows pinched in confusion as your father yanked you forward. It wasn’t the first time Rhysand had asked to speak to your father but why had he requested you to approach as well? 

“My Lord,” your father said with a bow of his head. “Lady.”

He shot you a glare when you stood next to him frozen. You snapped out of your trance and gave a curtsy, keeping your eyes on the ground like an obedient and submissive female should. 

“What is your name, little bird?”

“Her name is—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the High Lord snapped. “I was talking to your daughter.”

Your eyes flickered up, widening as the High Lord’s piercing violet ones landed on you. “M-my name is y/n, my Lord.”

You swallowed as he looked between you and your father. What could he possibly want with you? 

“Okay, y/n. Tell me, do you enjoy living here?”

You glanced at your father to see his eyes narrowed at you. You nodded in answer, holding your hands behind your back to hide your shaking. 

“My Lord, what is the meaning of this—”

“It is impolite to interrupt a conversation,” the High Lady sneered, holding a hand up in your father’s direction. 

A muscle in his jaw clenched but he stayed quiet. 

“And do you possess any power?”

You glanced at your father again, not sure how to answer. He had wanted to keep you a secret from the High Lord, worried he’d take you away once he found out what you could do, how you could benefit him. Instead, Keir and your father wanted to use you to secure a strong alliance with another court. 

“A mere fraction,” your father cut in. “The girl can’t even winnow.”

You bit your lip, looking back at the floor. Your cheeks turned red at your father’s lie.

“Interrupt me one more time, Lord Thanatos, and I’ll have you escorted to a prison cell,” the High Lord growled before looking back at you. “What power do you possess, y/n? Don’t bother lying to me, little bird. I will know.”

You looked at your father again, his lips were pressed in a thin line, displeased. You looked back into the intimidating gaze of the High Lord. 

“I possess the Clear Touch, my Lord,” you answered.

The power that ran in your family line. The ability to touch a person and see their memories if you were able to get past their mental barrier. The High Lord grinned. 

“Good, you will pack your things and return with us to Velaris,” the High Lord declared. “I have use of you.”

Your jaw nearly dropped open and you turned to look at your father. His face was bright red with anger. 

“What?!” He spat out. “You cannot just kidnap her. She is under my rule until marriage. And she already has a number of suitors, some of whom are supposed to arrive this weekend for negotiations. You can’t take her.”

Your jaw did drop open this time. You had no idea about any suitors. You quickly fixed your face back into an unreadable one when the High Lord’s gaze stayed on you. 

“As far as I know, your daughter is of age now. Which means she can make her own choice,” the High Lord purred. “Which will it be y/n? Come work for me or stay here to be sold off by your father?”

The arrogance in his voice irked you. It’s like he was assuming no one would ever turn down the chance to work with him, to go to Velaris. As if he were offering you a reward. But you hated him as much as you hated your father. And you hated this court equally. 

Marriage to a foreign male might be your only chance to escape from here.

You could feel your father’s heavy gaze on the side of your face. “I would like to stay with my father, my Lord.”

Shock flashed through the High Lord’s eyes for a second and your father grinned. 

“Well, she’s made her choice, High Lord,” your father gloated. He wrapped his hand around your arm, right over the bruise hiding under your sleeve. You flinched slightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse—”

Suddenly, your father was yanked from you—the shadowsinger now between you and him.

“Get your fucking hands off my mate,” the shadowsinger growled lowly, his face dark and devastatingly lethal. 

Mate.

Mate.

That word clanged through you like metal against steel. The shadowsinger was staring down at your father, not even looking in your direction. Not even as a sea of gasps rang out in the crowd. 

Mate.

He had just claimed you in front of the entirety of Hewn City. There would be no marriage now. No escaping this court. You knew what it meant to be someone’s mate as a female. He now had rights to you. You were his. 

The blood left your face, your jaw clenching in dread.

Mate.

That one word had been enough. Enough for the High Lord to have you escorted to your home, made to pack up all your things to join them on their journey back to Velaris. You did so without a single word. What could you do? Even your own father wouldn’t look at you anymore. Not with the shadowsinger breathing down his neck. 

And when Azriel saw the chains in your room, the ones your father locked you up with at night to make sure you could never leave, he had grabbed hold of your father and disappeared in a flurry of shadows. 

Your heart was pounding as you chucked your clothes into a trunk. Once you were all packed, two females appeared out of nowhere. The shadow wraiths. They took hold of your trunk and disappeared. Your father’s handmaidens led you out to the sitting area where you waited for your mate to come retrieve you as if you were little more than some item he had purchased. 

Azriel returned, his knuckles bloody and bruised. You weren’t naive. You knew it was your father’s blood on his hands. You should’ve felt satisfied at seeing it, but you weren’t. This wasn’t a victory for you. You were merely just a trade between the two males. From your father’s ownership to your mate’s. 

“Come on,” Azriel said, reaching out his hand to you. “Let’s go.” 

You said nothing, taking his hand as you were meant to. Shadows engulfed the two of you until you were being pulled out of the darkness and into a new place. You quickly dropped Azriel’s hand, looking around. It was a bedroom, simple but still opulent. You glanced out the window to see you were high in the sky, overlooking a city.    

“We’re at the House of Wind.” Azriel’s voice came from behind you. You whirled around to stare at him. “This is where you’ll be staying for now.” 

He took a step towards you and you couldn’t fight the urge to take a step back to maintain the distance between you. He held up his hands. “I’m not…I’m not going to do anything to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know much about the shadowsinger, only how he tortured people for information and came from Illyria. You glanced at his wings.

You did know about that. How brutal Illyrian males were supposed to be. How they clipped their females and used them as nothing more than breeding stock. 

“You’re Illyrian,” you finally said. 

He nodded. “Yes.” 

“I know how Illyrians treat their females.”

A brief flash of anger sparked behind his hazel eyes and you berated yourself in your head. Fuck. You were already forgetting all the things your mother had taught you. Things every female in Hewn City were taught from birth. Never anger a male, keep your opinions to yourself, always say yes when they demand something of you. 

“I am nothing like them,” Azriel ground out between his teeth, his fist clenched. 

You swallowed, taking another step back. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, already bracing yourself to be hit.

But Azriel didn’t advance forward to your surprise. 

“I will leave you alone now. Dinner will be served at six if you wish to join.”

And then he was gone, melting back into his shadows.

You let out the breath you were holding, looking around the room once more. Your new cage. Slightly better than your last one, but a cage nonetheless. You sighed and began to unpack your things. Might as well accept your fate. You were the shadowsinger’s mate. There was no escaping this now. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You showed up at dinner, scared to anger Azriel even more than you had already. But Azriel had paid you little attention since you had been out here with all of them. Instead, he sat at the opposite side of the table, next to one of the High Lady’s sisters. They seemed to be engaging in pleasant enough conversation by the looks of it. 

Good. You were happy his attention was elsewhere. Though your chest ached as you watched him exchange soft smiles with the other female, completely different than how he had been with you. 

It’s just the bond, you reminded yourself. The bond you hadn’t even felt snap for you. 

“So, y/n, how old are you exactly?” 

“Eighteen,” you answered the Morrigan, who sat across from you. 

At this, Azriel’s head whipped towards you, his brows pinched. Even the female next to him looked at you, her brown eyes filled with some indiscernible emotion. 

As soon as they were all in Velaris, it was like a completely different group of people. The menacing stares, the cold voices, the disdain. All of it was gone and replaced with something warmer. Though they still watched you with suspicious eyes. 

It only annoyed you further. Hewn City was something they could wipe from their hands and escape from, with no regard for those stuck there. 

“Hey, Feyre, you’re not the baby anymore!” The General laughed. 

“You must be relieved to finally be away from that place,” Feyre chirped.

Your grip on your fork tightened. If they all recognized how horrible that place was, then why did they insist on doing nothing to fix it? You weren’t the only one who suffered there. 

You heard your mother’s voice in your head now, Always be agreeable. Say what they want you to. Don’t put up a fight or they’ll only hit you harder. Be gracious. Look happy. 

You glanced at Azriel to see he was still watching you.

“Yes,” you agreed, like you were supposed to. 

Yes. It was the only word you had said since being here at this table. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

After dinner was over, they had Azriel escort you back to your room. You followed behind him, staring at his large beautiful wings. You supposed things could be worse. You could be mated to some ugly, rotten looking male. At least your new prisoner guard was handsome. 

You stepped inside of your room, expecting Azriel to follow. Is this when he’d force you to have sex with him? You mentally went through all the steps your mother had told you about sex. About how much it would hurt, how it was just something you would need to suffer through in order to keep a male happy. 

To your surprise, Azriel did not enter the room. But he didn’t leave either, lingering in the doorframe. 

“You know, you don’t have to keep saying yes to everything,” he said. “You’re not in Hewn City anymore. You’re allowed to say no. Allowed to voice your own opinions.”

“Okay,” you replied, stoically. Was this some sort of test?

He let out a sigh. “You don’t want to be here, do you?” 

You only blinked in response. He ran a hand through his hair, his beautiful face unreadable. “I’m sorry for claiming you in front of the court like that. But it was the only way your father would let us take you out of there. You don’t have to be scared anymore. No one here is going to hurt you.” 

“I didn’t want to leave,” you said back. “I told the High Lord I wished to stay with my father.”

Azriel seemed confused by your remark. “Your father isn’t here, y/n. You don’t have to continue to lie. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I am not lying,” you replied. 

“You…you wish to stay in Hewn City? You wish to stay with your father?” 

You shook your head. Because no, that wasn’t what you wanted. But you knew you didn’t want this either. You didn’t want to be in the Night Court at all. You wanted to be whisked away somewhere else. No one cared for you here. That wasn’t how the Night Court worked. 

“So you did want to come here?”

“No,” you whispered. “I do not wish to be here either.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw clenched. “So what do you want?”

Your brows pinched together. “I-I don’t know.”

You’d never been allowed to want for anything. You had no clue what was even out in the world beyond this court. You’d lived in Hewn City all your life. Had never been educated on much of anything. Not beyond typical things the females were allowed to learn. 

Azriel’s fists tightened and then he disappeared. 

You didn’t see him again until two days later. He showed up knocking on your door, telling you to pack your things. You did as he said without argument. Perhaps he was finally taking you home now to do whatever it is mates did with each other. 

But to your surprise, Azriel brought you to an apartment that was nearly empty besides the necessities. He placed your trunk in the bedroom before turning to look at you, his face blank. 

“You will live here now. I will not bother you, nor will anyone else from the court. If you wish to speak to any of us, you can reach out whenever,” he said, his voice ice cold. “I set up an account under your name that you can use to buy whatever you need.”

He was just…dumping you here? 

“I’m meant to live here?” You questioned. “Alone?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” The disdain in his voice had you folding into yourself. “So yes. You will live here. Since I’m the reason you’re in this situation, I will cover the cost.”

All of the gentleness and patience he had shown that other female was gone, nowhere to be found. 

“Okay,” you said, flatly. 

He peered at you once more, searching. You kept your face neutral, not wanting to show the fear you now felt. Alone in a city. You didn’t know a single person who lived here. What would you do? What could you do?

“You know where to find me if you wish,” Azriel said and then disappeared into his shadows, leaving you standing alone in an empty apartment. 

You spent the next month in a haze. Only leaving the apartment for food. Otherwise you just sat and watched people from your window. 

Sometimes you’d see Azriel walking through the streets with the High Lady’s sister, exchanging soft glances, laughing, brushing up against each other. 

You seethed at the sight. He had claimed you, dragged you to this city away from everything and everyone you’d ever known, and dumped you here alone just to parade around with another female.

Why had he taken you if he didn’t want you? 

Why had he said anything? 

It wasn’t like you could return to Hewn City. Your father would have trouble finding you suitors now that everyone knew you were the shadowsinger’s mate. Without having a use for you, you were sure your father would only treat you worse. 

You were truly alone. You’d always been, of course. But though you held no love for your father, at least he had you taken care of. 

Now you were on your own. 

Abandoned by your own mate. 

Maybe you should feel relieved that he didn’t want you. Seemed more invested in the High Lady’s sister. But it didn’t feel good either way. 

Were you not good enough for him? Were you not worth the effort of courting? You’d always known your life would never be filled with soft, sweet romance. Not if you were meant to be sold off. 

But to find out you had a mate, a mate clearly capable of being gentle and kind with females…just not you. 

You were Court of Nightmare scum. A female meant to be used and broken and ruined at the hands of males. Not good enough for the High Lord’s brother apparently. Not good enough for sweet smiles or flowers.

Just something to claim and discard. 

Something inside of you broke.

All the emotions you had been holding in were suddenly flooding out. So you finally let yourself cry. 

And cry.

And cry.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Months went by. You were sure how many. 

You had been stumbling around late one night, trying to learn the city streets when some male had approached you. He was charming, handsome. Said he could tell you were lost and asked if you’d like him to show you around.

You said yes. After all, your own mate hardly cared about you. He never sought you out after dumping you in the apartment. Never checked in on how you were adjusting…if you even were.

You weren’t. 

You hated this city and all it represented. Hated all the fae here who had never had to suffer at the hands of their own ruler. 

The male had done more than show you around. He introduced you to a whole other world, one that was hidden in the underbelly of this city. Something that felt a little more like the home you knew. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Present Day

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were woken up by the sheets being yanked off your body. You sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes. You groaned, lifting a hand to your pounding head. Your vision finally came into focus, narrowing in on a seething Azriel standing at the foot of your bed. 

Gasps came from around you and it took you a second to realize you were not only naked, but in the middle of several other naked bodies—two females and one male. You quickly pulled the sheets back over yourself. 

“Get out,” Azriel growled at them. “Now.” 

No one moved, too startled. 

“Now!” Azriel roared. “Before I rip out your throats!” 

That had all of them moving. But you stayed frozen on the bed, staring at Azriel. Silence rang in your apartment until they were all gone, leaving the two of you alone. Azriel tossed you a robe and you quickly shrugged it on, standing up from the bed. 

“I thought this would be over by now, y/n,” Azriel snarled, moving out of your bedroom back to the living area. He grabbed the kitchen trash can and started stalking through your apartment. It took you a second to realize what he was doing before you cried out, rushing to stop him. 

“What are you doing?!”

“This is done, y/n,” Azriel snapped, brushing you off him. “I’m done giving you access to my accounts if all you’re going to do is buy drugs and get fucked up every day.” 

He grabbed a bag of mirthroot and tossed it into the trash can. You shouted at him to stop, trying to rip the trash out of his hands. 

Didn’t he understand?!

You needed that. You needed the drugs, needed the alcohol. You needed it to shut your mind off, to keep the empty and depressing thoughts away. You would die without them.

“Azriel, stop!”

“No,” he snarled back at you. “This has to stop, y/n.”

“Why are you so concerned about this now?” you shouted, tossing your hands in the air. “You’ve never cared before. Why now?” 

You stalked after him, trying to grab the trash from his hands but he easily pushed you away. You felt desperate tears line your eyes. 

“I’ve always cared!” Azriel yelled. “I have always cared about you, y/n. But I thought you would phase out of this. I thought you just needed to explore your new freedom and get it out of your system. But you haven’t stopped and you’re out of control!” 

You fisted the back of his shirt, forcing him to stop. “You have never cared for me! Just fucking leave, Azriel. This is my life. I will live it how I want to.”

“Not while I’m the one funding it!”

He glared down at you and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Then don’t! I don’t need your money. I don’t need you. I can find someone else. I can go somewhere else.” 

“Really? You’d just fuck off with some other male?!” Azriel shouted. “After everything I’ve done for you?!”

You scoffed. “What the fuck have you ever done for me, Azriel?! You dragged me from my home, forced me here, and then treated me like I was nothing to you!”

“I was giving you the space you wanted!”

“No, you were busy fucking the High Lady’s sister,” you snapped. “Why don’t you go back to her if this is too much for you? I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want this!” 

“Keep Elain out of this! She’s done nothing to you,” Azriel growled, making you see red. “Elain is my friend. She sure as hell cares about me more than you do.” 

“You know what? Fuck you, Azriel,” you said, pushing him away from you. “Fuck you. Fuck your High Lord and Lady. Fuck her stupid sisters. Fuck your whole stupid family! You’re right! You’ve all done nothing! Nothing! Just let us all suffer in that city while you all got to be happy here!” 

“And what are you doing to help anyone, y/n? What are you doing besides getting drunk and high every single night?” Azriel tossed the trash at your feet, as if to prove his point. “All you’ve done is become a burden!” 

Your breath caught in your throat and you took a step away from him. A burden? You were a burden to him? He was the one who took you! The one who brought you here!

“Then get out,” you whispered. “Get out and leave and never fucking come back.” 

Azriel let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”

You glared up at him. “No, Azriel, I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck you want from me! You come here, fuck me and leave! How am I supposed to know what you mean?!”

“You think any of this is easy for me? You think I was overjoyed to find out my mate had been suffering in Hewn City the whole time I was living here? Do you know how much I prayed to the Mother for a mate? How much I wanted this? And now I have it. Now I have you and fuck, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to help you!” 

“Well, you might as well give up now! I don’t want your help, Azriel. I can’t be helped! I’m not broken!”

“Then explain all of this!” Azriel shouted, gesturing at the mess in your apartment. The empty bottles, the drugs on the table. “I gave you a year, y/n. I gave you a year to adjust, to build a life here in Velaris for yourself!”

“Have you considered that I don’t want to?! I don’t belong here, Azriel. I don’t belong in this city, in this place!”

If I could tell you how I feel, I know that you’re still hurting too. No, I’m not broken. I’m just scared to belong here, scared to be happier. 

You wiped at the tears pouring down your face now. Your head was still pounding, your throat hoarse from the screaming. It was too much. It was all too much. 

“You know what I think? I think you’re scared,” Azriel snarled. “I think you’re scared to give all of this up. I think you’re scared to get better. I think you’re scared to let yourself be happy for once!” 

“You’re one to talk,” you snapped back. “You’re just as scared as I am, Azriel, you just hide it better. But I’m your mate and I know how you feel. I can see it.” 

“And what do you think I see when I look at you?” His voice was ice cold. “I see someone broken. I see someone so broken they don’t even know how to be happy. You never have, have you?” 

“Have you?” you shot back at him. “Have you ever felt happy, Azriel? Of course I’m not happy! Why the fuck would I be happy here?” 

The apartment fell silent as you both glared at each other, so many emotions swirling in your eyes. You hated him, hated what he had done to you, hated that you needed him, hated that you felt like you would die without him. And you knew he felt that way too, could see the anguish on his face. 

Azriel whispered your name so quietly, you would’ve thought you imagined it if you hadn’t seen his lips move. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his wings drooping to the floor. Your eyes widened as he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your stomach. You felt his tears wet your silk robe. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know how to do this. You think I don’t care about you, but you are all I care about. This whole world could burn to the ground and it’d still be you I looked for in the ash.” 

“I am already nothing but ash,” you whispered. “I might not have your scars, Azriel, but I have been burned too. Everything has been taken from me. Everything. Of course I’m scared to love you. Of course I’m scared to be happy. I can give you nothing because so little of me exists now.” 

“That’s not true,” he muttered against your stomach. “That’s not true at all, y/n. I don’t need anything from you. I just need you to let me help you. Please. Let me help you put yourself back together. Let me help you take away the pain. Let me give you a better life. Give me that chance. That's all I ask for.” 

“I can’t.” Your voice cracked as he gripped you harder. “You’re right. I am scared. I’m a coward. I can’t…I-I can’t let myself be happy. I can’t let myself feel anything. It hurts too much.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Azriel whispered. “So let me help you. Let me in. Let me make you feel something. I can feel your anger, I can feel your rage inside. Take it out on me if you have to. But stop shutting me out. I’m sorry for how things started. I didn’t know what to do. I was overwhelmed, scared, hurt. But please give me the chance to make it up to you. Please, baby, let me help you. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.” 

You fell to your knees in front of him, mirroring his position. His hazel eyes bore into yours, every single emotion he felt poured down the bond between the two of you. For once you let yourself show him how you felt. You undid the binds on your heart, cracked the barrier you had put up between the two of you. You let it all loose. Everything. Every single emotion you felt.

Azriel cradled your face in his hands. Kohl had made black trails down your face with your tears, your robe had slipped off one shoulder, your hair had half fallen out of your braid, but you had never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment. Because he was finally seeing you. The person you hid behind the drugs and alcohol. The person you hid between the sheets. 

You were scarred, hurt, and broken. You had a darkness swelling in you that matched his own. You were the first sight of blood emerging from a wound, the torn pages of a book, the flame of an almost melted candle, the fog obscuring the woods. You were made of everything he was. You were his equal, his love, his mate. 

You were scared and he was too. But as he pressed his lips against yours desperately, you saw a world where that fear might not exist. A world where you were happy and loved and whole again. You weren’t there now. You wouldn’t be there tomorrow.

But perhaps in the end, that’s where you’d find yourself.  

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[lainalit]

A Father's Promise

I made a post yesterday about a Darkbringer being denied to purchase sweets and toys in Velaris for his daughter. I couldn't let the Idea go so I wrote a little scene where the father comes home to his family with empty hands.

Disclaimer: English is not my native language so I apologise for any errors upfront

Edit: Story is now available on ao3 and any future chapters will be on there

______________________________________________

The thick air of the Hewn City clung to Cadell as he walked slowly through its shadowed streets, the jagged stone walls pressing in on him from all sides. The flickering faelights cast their cold, eerie glow, as the weight of the day bore down on his shoulders.

In his hand, he clutched the empty bag that should have been filled with caramel bonbons and the pink teddy bear he had promised his daughter. But it was empty—just like his heart feels now.

He had traveled to Velaris, the secret city, which not long ago only a few in the night court knew about. The city itself radiating with vivid colors, creating a striking contrast to the darkness and gloom of his home city.

Keir’s agreement with the High Lord, in which nobles and Darkbringers where allowed into the blessed city, had granted him this rare opportunity to leave the oppressive confines of this mountain, and he had hoped to bring back something special for his daughter Trina—a taste of freedom, sweetness, and warmth that felt increasingly elusive with each day they spent beneath this mountain.

As he approached the small alcove he called home, which is tucked away in a quieter, less-trodden part of the city, he hesitated.

The familiar scent of his wife’s cooking filled the air, usually a comforting reminder of home, but today it felt almost stifling. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The modest space was dimly lit by the soft glow of faelights. Enid was at the hearth, stirring a pot of stew over a small, magical flame. Her chestnut hair was tied with the silver hairpin he gifted her on their wedding day, which reflects the warm light, a stark contrast to the cold, hard stone around her.

Trina, his six-year-old, was playing nearby, her black hair that she inherited from him in pigtails as her small hands carefully arranged her few toys: a second-hand doll named Lucy with one eye missing, a stack of building blocks, and Mr. Starfall, a star-shaped plushie made from the scraps of their blue-white dotted tablecloth and named after her favorite day of the year.

“Daddy!” Trina’s voice broke through his thoughts, her eyes lighting up as she ran to him. Nearly knocking him over before he could kneel and pull her into a tight embrace.

She looked up at him with excitement, her face bright with anticipation. “Did you get the bonbons and the new friend for Lucy and Mr. Starfall?”

Cadell’s heart clenched at her words. He had promised her those things—something special and new just for her, not borrowed or second-hand. But now he had nothing.

He felt the weight of the day pressing down on him, every step back from the shops and the words spoken to him replaying in his mind as he answered his daughter, “I… I’m sorry, princess. I couldn’t get them today.”

Trina’s face fell, her lower lip trembling slightly as she looked at his hands, where he clutched the empty bag. Her voice was small, laced with confusion and hurt.

“But…you promised.”

Enid, who had been watching the exchange, set down the spoon she was using and walked over, her brow furrowed with concern.

She knew her husband well enough to see the strain in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged under a weight that he couldn’t shake. “Trina,” she called gently, her voice calm but firm, “why don’t you go pack your schoolbag for tomorrow in your room? Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

Trina hesitated, her gaze flicking between her parents. She sensed that something was wrong, though she didn’t understand what. With a reluctant nod, she turned and walked towards one of the small adjoining chambers, casting one last look over her shoulder before disappearing into the other room.

As soon as Trina was out of sight, Enid turned to her husband, her concern deepening. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm. “Cadell, what happened?”

Cadell let out a heavy sigh, standing up and running a hand through his hair, the tension in his body palpable. He felt the sting of humiliation and anger, emotions that he rarely allowed himself to dwell on but that now threatened to consume him.

“I went to five different shops, Enid. five. The first four wouldn’t even look at me. I waited and tried to get their attention, but they just ignored me like I wasn’t even there. And the last one…” He clenched his fists, his voice trembling with frustration and hurt.

“The last one, the owner saw me, made eye contact, looked at me as I was dirt under his shoe, and they…they said they don’t sell to fae of ‘our kind’.”

Enid’s heart ached at his words. She had always known their status as residents of the Hewn City made life difficult, but hearing the hurt in his voice brought the harsh reality into sharp focus. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Honey, I’m so sorry…”

He shook his head, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I just wanted to bring her something nice, something that would make her smile. But they wouldn’t even give me the chance. I hate that I failed her…again. Because of who I am.”

Enid tightened her hold on him, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and anger. She knew all too well the cruelty of this city they call home, and it pained her to see him suffer because of it.

She had chosen Cadell precisely because he was different, because he was kind in a place where kindness was rare. And because he was not like the others—not like the male she had once been betrothed to.

Enid’s betrothal had been a match for power and influence, a union that should have secured her and her family a life of privilege in the Hewn City.

But her betrothed, a lord of considerable rank, was notorious for his torture methods, especially towards females. The stories of his cruelty had reached her ears long before their engagement was made public, the whispers of the unheard brutality had chilled her to the bone even in a place like this where the darkness inside these mountain walls was never-ending.

But then she had met Cadell, at the time a quiet novice Darkbringer with a gentle heart who conceals it behind a facade of seriousness in front of the other males.

But in the privacy within their walls, he treats her, and later, when Trina came along only with tender hands, something she had never known was possible.

She had fallen in love with him, drawn to the very qualities that lay beneath his made-up appearance. And with that realization, she could not bear the thought of marrying her betrothed; she had made a desperate decision.

She had convinced Cadell to take her virtue, knowing full well what it would mean. It was the only way to escape the fate that awaited her otherwise—a marriage to a monster who would have destroyed her.

Cadell, too, had his own scars, though his were not just emotional. He had fought in the war with Hybern, called to battle alongside the rest of the Night Court’s forces.

He had seen the horrors of war, felt the bite of steel and the crush of magic against his body. His broadsword that he wielded had saved him more than once, but it had not protected him from the memories—the screams of dying comrades, the blood-soaked fields, the weight of loss that clung to him like a second skin.

He had returned to the Hewn City a changed man, quieter, more reserved. The war had left him with a deep sense of weariness, a bone-deep exhaustion that no amount of rest could erase.

And though he rarely spoke of it, Enid knew that the memories of the battlefield still haunted him with the way he rises at night to visit Trina’s room, watching over his daughter like a fallen angel poised to confront death itself if it dares to breathe in her direction.

“Honey,” Enid whispered, her voice fierce with emotion, “you are worth so much more than they will ever understand. You are a good father, a good male. We’ll explain it to Trina, in a way she can understand."

she looked at him with a small smile when she spoke, "And tomorrow… tomorrow, we’ll find another way. I’ll ask Nemain to see if she still has the soft fabric, so I can sew the teddy myself and try of dyeing it pink. For the caramel bonbons, my cousin has a butterscotch candy recipe that I can use. I simply shaped the candy into rounds instead of rectangles, so Trina wouldn’t notice the differencee."

Cadell smiled back a little while he nodded slowly, her words seeping into the cracks that the day had left in his resolve.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded in the quiet darkness of their home.

“Thank you, my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Enid held him close, her head resting against his chest. For a moment, they simply stood there, drawing comfort from each other’s presence.

She knew the weight he carried, the burdens of being a lowborn Darkbringer in a world that valued power above all else. And she knew the guilt he felt, knowing that she had chosen him over the luxurious life she could have had.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes filled with the same fierce love that had driven her to choose him all those years ago.

“We’re in this together, Cadell,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Always.”

They stood in silence, holding each other closely, before parting ways as Enid headed to their daughter’s room to announce that dinner was ready, while Cadell looked to the small family portrait that stands on their living room drawer.

The Hewn City might be cold and unforgiving, but within the walls of their home, they had each other—and that was enough to keep the darkness at bay, if only for a little while longer.

[yaralulu]

i cannot believe that other lucien week is trying to unslutify lucien ☹️.