#Archeron OC sister

[iydiamartinx]

FLAMES OF STARLIGHT

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

Pairing: Poly!Azriel x OC x Lucien

Hey everyone! So I have this posted on A03 but I decided to begin posting here as well as a back and for anyone who would prefer to read it here instead.

❝ 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢�� 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯. ❞ — 𝐫.𝐡. 𝐬𝐢𝐧

A DEEP BONE aching pain settled into Valda's body. She was used to pain; she'd dealt with it all her life. However, some days were worse than others, especially during the colder seasons.

The threadbare blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders did nothing to stop the chill from seeping into her bones. She could feel the aches slowly growing worse as she failed to warm up. Yet, she still kept the blanket tightly wrapped around her thin frame, taking the small bit of comfort it offered her.

The door to their run-down cottage was pulled open, and a gust of biting cold air rushed into their already chilly home as her youngest sister stepped in.

"Feyre!" Elain—the second youngest Archeron sister—gasped. She rushed to her feet when she saw what Feyre carried around her shoulders. "Where did you get that?"

Val's bone almost felt like glass as she stood up to gently tug Elain back from rushing at Feyre. Val could hear the hunger in her sister's tone, and even her own stomach clenched at the lack of food, but she ignored it.

"Where do you think?" Feyre questioned, her voice hoarse and tinged with annoyance, no doubt from the exertion of carrying the large beast all on her own.

Val made her way towards her youngest sister, and gently she eased the doe from Feyre's shoulders and onto her own instead. Val's jaw clenched as her body protested at the added weight, but she ignored it just like she always did.

"You should've woken me," Val quietly reprimanded. She didn't like Feyre going out into that treacherous forest alone.

"You're in pain," Feyre instead stated, her eyes already taking in the shakiness that Val tried to hide.

Val just gave her sister a reassuring smile, "I'm fine."

Feyre gave her eldest sister a look of disbelief, one that Val pretended not to notice as she instead walked into their small kitchen. Val placed the doe onto the rickety table, the wood creaking in protest just like her bones had when the carcass landed with a small dull thump.

Val would never admit to how bad the pain got. Years ago, before they fell into poverty, their father had hired the best doctors to find out what illness ailed her body, yet none managed to figure it out. In her youth, she would take tonics that managed to dull the deep pains, but now they were too poor to afford such a luxury, leaving her to be subjugated to the full extent of her illness. There was nothing she could do, so she found no reason to complain. The pain was a part of her, and she'd learned to live with it.

Feyre, on the other hand, had gotten adept at figuring out which days were hard on Val since her sister would refuse to ask for help. She took one look at Val and saw the trembles that ran through her body and the dark circles that told her that Val hadn't been able to sleep—most likely due to the pain. Today was a particularly bad day, and the weather certainly wasn't helping to make it any better. A pang went through Feyre's heart as she looked at her sister; she looked so frail, so fragile, so...breakable.

"Will it take you both long to clean it?" Elain questioned, looking between Val and Feyre.

Val refrained from sighing. She loved her sister, she really did, but sometimes Elain's ignorance and lack of willingness to help out grated on Val's nerve. Elain was too soft, too reliant, yet anytime Val tried to bring it up, it was Nesta —The final Archeron sister and her twin that would surge to Elain's defense.

Val and Nesta shared a complicated bond as twins. Val was the only one who could truly match Nesta, and as the eldest, Nesta usually, albeit reluctantly, conceded to Val's authority. However, when it came to Elain, Nesta became fiercely protective, refusing to acknowledge that their sister needed to harden herself to the cruel world they now lived in. Val sometimes believed that the reason was that Nesta still thought that they would one day regain their wealth. It was a fool's hope, but a hope nonetheless, and who was Val to take that away?

With Nesta favoring Elain, Val naturally gravitated towards Feyre. Even in her youth, Feyre had always been a wild child, and she had been too young when they had their fall into poverty to properly remember the luxuries they had. As such, this was the life Feyre most remembered, and she knew what needed to be done to survive.

Val didn't bother to answer Elain, but instead, she moved to grab her hunting knife, so she could begin skinning the deer.

"Feyre," Their father's deep voice rumbled from where he sat by the fire. "What luck you had today—in bringing us such a feast."

Val's hand tightened on the hilt of her knife. Even worse than Elain in idling around was their father. Val would never forgive him for letting Feyre go out into the woods alone, nor would she forgive him for just giving up. He spoke of trying to regain the wealth they once lost, yet he'd never once done anything to help bring a few extra coins to their table. Her anger towards their father burned hotter than even Nesta's, but like most things, she just managed to hide it better.

Feyre didn't bother to acknowledge their father's words as she moved to stand by where Val sat in front of the doe.

"We can eat half the meat this week," Feyre stated, glancing at Val, who nodded before continuing, "We can dry the other half."

"We can go to the market tomorrow to see how much we can get for the hides," Val added, earning a nod from Feyre. The others didn't bother to respond or even let on they heard what the two had said.

"I'd love a new cloak," Elain sighed wistfully. Right at the same time, Nesta stood up and announced, "I need a new pair of boots."

Val rolled her eyes, choosing to tune out the soon-to-be arguing pair. Instead, her attention shifted to the doe, yet before she could begin skinning it, Feyre's hand gently clasped around her shaking wrist.

"Go sit down," Feyre said gently, "I'll do it in a bit."

"Feyre—" Val tried to protest, but Feyre cut her off with a glare, making the older girl huff, "Sometimes I forget who's older with your mothering."

Feyre's lips managed to twitch, but she kept her resolve firm until Val finally conceded and handed her the knife before shuffling to the nearest chair.

The fact Val hadn't protested too heavily told Feyre just how much pain she refused to admit she was in. On a good day, Feyre wouldn't even have been able to hunt alone. Val would have been right by her side. In fact, it had been Val who had taught Feyre how to hunt in the first place.

While the others may not have realized how much Valda had sacrificed for them, Feyre did. No matter the pain she was in, Val always tried her best. The first time she had found out Feyre had wandered off to the woods alone, she had been livid. After that, she joined Feyre on nearly every hunt, despite the cold worsening the pain she felt.

It was Val who would give up her blanket when the nights were too cold to make sure that her sisters would be warm enough, and it was she who would eat the smallest of portions just so everyone else could eat more.

Feyre knew, which was why she insisted on skinning the deer despite her exhaustion. Valda suffered every day, yet she did everything she could to take care of Feyre and the rest of their sisters; and if Feyre could ease the strain on her sister for even the slightest moment, she would.

Val's eyes had slipped shut as she counted back in her head, trying to take her mind off the deep painful ache in her bones. Hearing the room go silent, Val opened her eyes just in time to see the disgusted look on her twin's face.

"You stink like a pig covered in its own filth," Nesta sneered, picking at Feyre's cloak, "Can't you at least try to pretend that you're not an ignorant peasant?"

"When you put food on this table, then you'll have the right to complain. Until then, leave Feyre alone, "Val's eyes met Nesta's challenge clear in her eyes. At that moment, Val looked anything but frail. Her back had straightened, her lip slightly curled as she glared at Nesta.

They weren't identical, yet both were devastatingly beautiful in their own right. Where Nesta looked most like their mother, Val was a mix of both parents. She was the only sister to share their father's dark brown hair but had their mother's piercing blue-grey eyes that she shared with both Nesta and Feyre.

Nesta returned the glare. The identical blue-grey, almost silver, eyes clashed in a battle of wills, but it was Nesta who broke first. Her jaw clenching and fists curling as she looked away. It was usually Val who won their arguments, and Feyre couldn't help but sometimes wonder if Nesta would secretly let her, not wanting to cause any more strain on their sister than she already felt.

"At least take off those disgusting clothes," Nesta huffed, but there was significantly less bite to her tone.

It was about as much Nesta would concede to defeat, but Val was satisfied. Her shoulders once again slumped as if it was an effort to keep them up.

"Can you make a pot of hot water and add wood to the fire?" Feyre questioned, looking at Nesta before frowning, as she noticed the woodpile—more specifically the lack thereof, "I thought you were going to chop wood today."

Nesta just picked at her long, neatly trimmed nails, "I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters." A frown tugged at her lips at the thought before she smoothed it over with a pout, "Besides, Feyre," Her tone was sickly sweet as if trying to butter her youngest sister up, "You're so much better at it! It takes you half the time it takes me. Your hands are suited for it, they're already so...rough."

"Please," Feyre bit out, trying to hide the pleading note that seeped into her tone, "Please get up at dawn to chop that wood." Feyre began unbuttoning her tunic, "Or we'll be eating a cold breakfast."

"I will do no such thing!"

Val sighed and nodded for Feyre to go. Elain tried to plead softly to Nesta, but she just hissed in return, leaving it up to Val, who was much less kind.

"You will, or you can go hungry tomorrow. Those are your options," There was no warmth in her tone, just cold hard steel letting Nesta know just how serious she was.

Val understood Nesta better than anyone, and she knew why she would do the things she would do. She wanted their father to step up, and Val did too, but Val wasn't about to let that become the reason she and Feyre ended up doing all the work.

Besides, Val had given up on their father long ago. She had given up when he had let them nearly starve to death, forcing Val to take desperate measures. She had given up when he allowed a child to go into those woods. Nesta could hope, but Val knew better.

Displeasure was written all over Nesta's face, but she didn't argue as she had done with Feyre. Nesta would do as she was told.

Thankfully, dinner went without another argument. Everyone was too focused on satiating their aching bellies. Val let out a small sigh as she felt the hunger recede.

She half-heartedly listened to Nesta complain about the villagers to Elain. It didn't even register what exactly Nesta was talking about until Feyre interrupted Nesta.

"Tomas Mandray?" Feyre questioned. "The woodcutter's second son?"

Nesta looked over, her eyes narrowing, "Yes."

Val sat up straighter, paying much more attention to the conversation. "What does he want?"

"He wants to marry her," Elain said dreamily.

Val stilled. Nesta cocked her head, noticing Val and Feyre's reactions. "Is there a problem?" She questioned, almost daringly.

Val snorted, dismissively waving a hand. "You can't chop wood for us, yet you want to marry a woodcutter's son?" Her words made it known just how foolish the idea was.

"You're not marrying him," Feyre added, backing up Val.

Nesta squared her shoulders, "I thought all you wanted was for us to get out of the house—to marry off me and Elain," Nesta's eyes darted to Feyre, and her lip curled, "So you could have one less mouth to feed and your darling Feyre, can finally have enough time to paint her glorious masterpieces."

Val's jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, yet it was Feyre who spoke. "Believe me," She started, "the day you want to marry someone worthy, I'll march up to his house and hand you over. But you're not going to marry Tomas."

Nesta's nostrils flared in anger, "There's nothing you can do. Clare Beddor told me this afternoon that Tomas is going to propose to me any day now. And then I'll never have to eat these scraps again." She smiled cruelly as she added, "At least I don't have to resort to rutting in the hay with Isaac Hale like an animal."

Their father let out an embarrassed cough. However, he said nothing against Nesta, but Val did.

"Nesta, that's enough," Val didn't raise her voice, but her words cracked over the sisters like a whip. It was hard and filled with warning. "Feyre's right. Tomas's family is barely better than ours."

Val remembered the hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw her and Feyre holding a line of rabbits. It was desperate, and she knew from experience that a desperate man did desperate things. Val had a white-knuckled grip on her knife, and she would have done what was needed if he had tried anything. From there on, she steered her and Feyre out of his way.

Feyre nodded, "You'd just be another mouth to feed. If he doesn't know this, then his parents must."

"Besides, we can't afford a dowry," Val looked between Nesta and Elain pointedly, "For either of you."

"We're in love," Nesta stated, and Val snorted as she saw Elain nodding in agreement.

"What do you two know of love?" Val questioned harshly, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop them. Nesta and Elain both froze at that. Feyre's eyes flashed with pity. Val reeled back slightly, and she tightly swallowed as she realized she had lost her composure.

"Excuse me," She muttered before hastily making her way out of the kitchen.

In the privacy of the room, she shared with her sisters, her hand shakily reached out to grasp the chain that held a simple ring around her neck while the other came up to muffle her sob.

Everyone knew love was a sensitive subject for Val because she lost her own. They had the love people dreamed about. Everyone in the village looked at them in envy. When Val looked at him, she knew he was her soulmate, as mawkish as it sounded. Yet, life had eventually caught up to them, and he was cruelly ripped away from her. That had been five years ago, and thinking of him still hurt.

She heard the footsteps of her sisters approaching, and not wanting to deal with them at the moment, she turned away from the door, feigning that she had fallen asleep. A few seconds the door opened, and two pairs of footsteps quietly shuffled in. Nesta and Elain spoke in low murmurs for a few minutes before the sheets to their shared cot rustled, and they joined her.

Soon their breathing evened out, but Val remained wide awake. Eventually, Feyre also entered and slipped in beside Val on the unoccupied side. Feyre was fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion of the day catching up to her.

Val waited until she was sure everyone was sleeping before slipping away. Grabbing her cloak, she stepped outside and found a stray log to take a seat on.

The air was frigid, the cold already seeping into her aching bones, but she ignored it. Her eyes were locked onto what was above her. The stars glittered like millions of jewels in the night sky but even more beautiful than the stars around was the moon.

It shone brightly, casting a soft white glow that looked almost ethereal on everything around her. Someone once told her that when someone dies, they become a star in the night sky forever to watch over those they love. But Val preferred to believe that light from the moon was of the souls they lost, guiding the way for those they left behind.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, the ache in her heart was worse than any physical pain she could feel. Her hand came to quickly wipe the tear away as she heard gentle footsteps crunching through the snow.

Val glanced back to see a sleepy Feyre making her way over. "It's late."

Val shrugged, holding her cloak open so Feyre could join her, despite already having her own cloak bundled around her body. Val wrapped her arm around her sister and rested her head on Feyre's shoulder.

"Best time to see the stars," Val replied softly, knowing her sister's preference for them.

They sat there in silence for the longest time until finally, the cold became too much, and they were forced to go back inside. They made their way to their hut and quietly slipped back into their cot, where Nesta and Elain blissfully remained asleep. Feyre curled into Val, who wrapped her arms protectively around her, and that was how both girls fell asleep.

Next Chapter →

banner credits: saradika-graphics & reveriesources

[thewulf]

Bound by Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - I'm hoping you could write a fanfic where reader, Feyre's twin, who actually killed the wolf but let Feyre take the credit... and before she realizes what she's done Feyre is gone. She struggles with guilt and isolation in Velaris after the sisters transformation by the Cauldron.... Read Rest Here

A/N: OKAY I LOVE THIS. It got away from me a bit. I didn't realize how fun this world would be to dive into. Let me know your thoughts as always :)

Pairing: Azriel Shadowsinger x Female Reader (Feyre Archeron Twin Sister)

Word Count: 8.2k +

TW: General ACOTAR TW

Under the starlit skies of Velaris the City of Starlight pulses with a life of its own. Its vibrant lights reflecting off the river with laughter and music filling the air, breathing life into every cobblestone and corner. But for you the city’s brilliance only deepens the shadows that cling to your soul. Shadows that no light seems capable of dispelling.

You walked alone. Your steps aimless being driven by the restless guilt that gnaws incessantly at your conscience. Every whisper of the wind seems to accuse you, every glance from a passerby seems to pierce through the facade you barely maintain. The weight of the secret you harbor presses down on you with every step… the wolf, the woods, the dreadful slice of the arrow that was meant to protect Feyre not harm her. But Feyre stepped forward and shouldered the blame. She was taken from you in an instant and forced to face the horrors of the faerie lands. It was all to shield you her twin she thought of being too gentle, too fragile for the brutal truths of that world.

The transformation wrought by the Cauldron has only magnified everything. Every emotion, every fear, every shard of guilt. It was supposed to be a rebirth but for you it feels more like a slow descent into a nightmare from which you cannot awaken. The power that now courses through your veins feels like chains. A constant reminder of the price paid to the mother. Of the freedom you don’t believe you deserve.

As you wander through the bustling streets the sounds of celebration around you clash violently with the turmoil within. Families and lovers share warm, joyous moments. Their laughter echoing in the crisp night air while you drift among them. You were simply a specter unseen, untouched by the light of their joy. Your heart aches with a loneliness so profound it threatens to consume you whole. To reduce your existence to a mere shadow of regret and sorrow.

You find yourself on one of the many ornate bridges spanning the Sidra. A place you often found some sort of solace in. You leaned over the balustrade to gaze into the dark waters below. The reflection of the city’s lights dances across the surface, a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to stretch endlessly beneath. It is here in the quiet far enough away from the eyes of those who know you, those who worry over you, that your facade finally cracks.

Tears that were unbidden and unwelcome, spill over, tracing cold paths down your cheeks. You are tired. So incredibly tired of pretending. Of hiding the depth of your pain. You wish to scream so loud. To let out the anguish that fills you, but your voice is as lost as your soul feels in the face of your endless guilt. Instead, you just stare down at the dark waters with silent sobs wracking your body. It was better this way. You couldn’t let Feyre see you like this. She was finally so happy. So happy with her mate. Her Rhysand. You couldn’t threaten that happiness. You owed her so much more than that. You quite literally owed her your life. So, you would suck it up in solace. Cry it out on your own.

In the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to feel your overwhelming emotions. To acknowledge the pain and the darkness. Little did you know you are not as alone as you believe. From the shadows an Illyrian figure watches you. His own heart heavy with unspoken secrets. Azriel was the spymaster of night court for a reason. He picked up on you disappearing for hours at a time when the others didn’t. He picked up on the fake smiles you threw everyone’s way. He seemed to pick up on it while the others didn’t… other than Feyre who seemed to watch you just as much as he did. He decided he would watch over you. For Feyre, his brothers mate. And for you. The woman who couldn’t seem to get used to being Fae as easily as your sisters did. The human turned Fae that consumed more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.

But for now, he waited behind his shadows. A silent guardian in the night recognizing that some battles must be faced alone before they can be shared.

You returned from the bustling markets of Velaris with arms laden with the myriad items Feyre requested. As you approach the townhouse the warm light from within spills out onto the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the dusk settling over the city. You pause at the door steeling yourself with a deep breath before stepping inside. Your smile as you hand the bags to Feyre doesn't quite reach your eyes. But she's too caught up in the moment to notice.

"Thank you so much," she says with a relief evident as she starts to unpack the food you’d volunteered to pick up for her. She pauses before she got too carried away giving you that look, the one you've come to know so well. The one that silently implores you to stay. To be a part of her world. "Will you stay for dinner? Everyone's coming over. Even Amren agreed to come. It would mean so much to me."

Her eyes are pleading and you know you can't refuse. Not when she's given up so much for you. With a nod you agree even as your stomach tightens at the thought of facing everyone. It was easy to fake your inner turmoil when it was only her or Rhys. But when it was the entirety of the Inner Circle it was harder to hide away. Inevitably someone would get you hooked in on a conversation. You haven't sat down with them since… well, since before the Cauldron. Since before everything changed. And that was almost an entire year ago now. You knew this request would come sooner or later. Though you were hoping for later you were going to suck it up for Feyre.

As the evening wears on the townhouse fills with laughter and conversation with everyone gathering in the familiar camaraderie that once felt like home to you. But now you feel like an outsider watching from the shadows even as you sit among them. At the dinner table you're terribly quiet. You were merely pushing food around your plate listening to the ebb and flow of conversations you can't force yourself to seem to join.

Feyre decided to sit beside you in hopes of calming your nerves. She notices. She notices the way your eyes were downturned. The way you occasionally nodded your head or smiled briefly pretending to be listening. The way you didn’t pick your fork up once. Her joy fades a little each time she glances your way. You didn’t notice the way her expression turned from mirth to concern. She squeezed your hand under the table in a silent message of solidarity and love. But even her touch can't pull you from the fog that's settled over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was your punishment? To live in a hazed state for thousands of years? Oh, how you wished to be a tiny little human again with the promise of dead after a hundred years or so.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table catches Feyre’s subtle, worried glances towards her twin. She meets his eyes with a silent conversation passing between them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She needed help. He nods slightly. His expression was solemn, understanding the depth of her worry. His gaze then shifts to you filled with a quiet resolve. He knew you were struggling but didn’t pick up on just how much you were. You’d done a masterful job until tonight hiding it away.

Rhysand had felt the ripple of concern from Feyre long before she voiced it. Her distress over your withdrawal echoing within him. She watched you with a sister's keen eye and her silent worry bled into their shared bond. A testament to her deep care for you.

Azriel, Feyre is troubled by Y/N's state. As am I. Rhysand's thought reached out to his brother that was sitting next to you. There was a thread of urgency woven through the mental call. She's pulling away and Feyre feels it deeply. Keep an eye on her please? Help her if you can.

Azriel's presence in Rhysand's mind was immediate and calm. He was steady force amid the silent storm of concern. I'm already on it, Rhys. I’ve sensed it too, he assured. His mental voice as composed as the shadows he commanded. You don't need to worry. I’ve been watching over her not out of obligation, but because... because she matters to me. I’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.

Azriel’s vigilance came not from an order but from a place of quiet solidarity. His attunement to the nuances of emotion and the unspoken had already drawn him to your side. Rhysand’s request merely echoed the actions he’d already undertaken. His actions were born from a blend of duty and a deep, personal concern that Azriel rarely let show. In the face of Feyre's distress and now Rhysand’s request, he became a silent sentinel for you. He needed to ensure that you were not only protected but also truly seen and understood.

Dinner continues around you as you withdrew into yourself. The laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. You're barely aware of Azriel's presence on your other side until you feel him beside you. His chair slightly closer than usual. His voice is soft, almost lost in the surrounding noise, as he leans in. "You don't have to be anything you're not, not here," he murmurs only for you to hear. "It’s okay to just be. To just breathe." His words meant to comfort felt like a lifeline in the sea of your tumultuous thoughts. You didn’t look at him for you were worried tears might spill over. But you nodded in acknowledgement letting him know that you heard him.

The evening slowly winds down and as the others linger over drinks and stories Azriel stays by your side. His presence a steady promise of understanding and patience. He doesn't push you to talk nor does he expect smiles. Instead, he offers the silent support you didn't know you needed, becoming a guardian not just of your safety, but of your peace.

Feyre watches this exchange with a glimmer of hope lighting up her worried features. Perhaps with Azriel's help you might find your way back to them. To yourself. Tonight, though, is just a small step in your journey back to yourself.

As everyone departs for the night you linger in the living room feigning interest in tidying up the small mess left behind. Feyre watches you for a moment with that same concern etching her features. But she decided against speaking, sensing your need for space.

Once the house is quiet you decide to step out for a walk under the night sky of Velaris. It had become your favorite routine. A routine that kept you grounded. A quick walk to your favorite spot on the Sidra. The city's soft lights reflect gently on the river casting dancing patterns on the water. It's beautiful yet the sight does little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice Azriel's approach until he's almost beside you. His presence is calming and somehow it doesn't startle you. Perhaps because in your heart you know he understands the need for quiet. His own demeanor is often just as reserved.

"Good evening," he says. His voice a low rumble. "Care for some company or would you prefer solitude tonight?"

You consider his offer for a moment. Company might not be so bad even though this was usually just a place for you. But it was Azriel. Someone who respects the silence as much as you do. "Company sounds nice, thank you," you reply with your voice softer than you intended.

Azriel nods falling into step beside you. As you walk his shadows play at your feet. It was a subtle yet comforting gesture. At one point one of his shadows curls around your hand. This small, almost imperceptible touch from his shadows offers a silent, comforting presence that envelops you in a sense of security. Neither of you speaks as you walk along the riverbank. The only sounds was the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant hum of the city. The silence between you is more than comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that words can sometimes be too cumbersome.

After a while though Azriel speaks up. He wasn’t looking at you but staring out at the water. "It's easy to feel lost in this city… even with its lights and crowds. Sometimes it feels like being surrounded by shadows even in the brightest part of the day."

You glance at him, surprised by the reflection of your own feelings in his words. "Yes, it does," you agree. You were feeling a weight lift slightly knowing that someone else understands.

He nods slightly at your words, "The shadows aren't all there is though. There are places, moments like these, that can offer some respite. And not all shadows are bad." He smiles looking down at the ones that clung to your feet.

His words make you look at him anew. You weren’t just seeing the spymaster or the warrior but someone who also seeks to find balance between the light and the dark. It makes you wonder if perhaps in this shared moment you might find a way to navigate your own shadows. They might not all be bad you had to agree with him.

You don't say much more as you walk back to the townhouse, but the silent agreement hangs between you, comforting and promising. Maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

The dawn is still a whisper of light across Velaris as you sit quietly by the Sidra. The gentle murmur of the river a soothing background to your thoughts that never seemed to shut the hell up. Lost in the reflections of the dancing water you hardly notice Azriel’s approach until he’s beside you. His presence as quiet as the morning. It was becoming a routine for him to join you on the river it seemed. Not that you minded. He might be the one person you’d happily accept to intrude on your solitude.

“You’re up early,” he remarks softly not wanting to startle you. His tone as gentle as the river’s flow.

You look up with a soft smile on your face. His familiar, reassuring presence is a comfort. “Just needed some air,” you reply with a yawn. Your voice carrying the weight of another sleepless night.

Azriel nods, understanding. He looks out over the water for a moment sharing the silence with you. Then, turning back to you, he suggests, “Come with me. I think I have something that might help clear your head. Help you to focus a bit.”

You’re hesitant. The idea of doing anything but sitting quietly feels daunting. But there’s something about his offer. The promise of relief, however temporary, that nudges you to your feet.

“It’s just training,” he adds. seeing your uncertainty. “Physical activity can be a good way to let out some of the emotions that are harder to express in words. We’ll take it slow. You set the pace.”

Trusting Azriel’s judgment, knowing he wouldn’t push you into something without reason, you stand and follow him towards the training grounds. The city is quietly waking around you and the walk is silent but comfortable. His presence a steady reassurance by your side. Something you were slowly growing to cherish.

As you reach the secluded training area the first rays of sunlight begin to warm the cool morning air. Azriel gives you a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s start simple. No pressure. Just you learning to trust your strength again.”

The training starts at an easy pace. Azriel guiding you through basic maneuvers. His patience was evident. But as your body begins to warm up with the activity and your focus sharpens on the movements. There was that sense of release you never knew could come. It was unfamiliar yet welcome that starts to take hold on you.

As the morning sun climbs higher the training session progresses under Azriel's watchful eye. You find yourself gradually syncing with the rhythm of the physical exertion. Each movement flushing out the restless energy that has been building up inside you. Azriel's guidance is firm yet encouraging and you start to feel a rare sense of accomplishment as you slowly master each new maneuver he throws at you.

But as the session intensifies Azriel begins to push you harder, increasing the pace and complexity of the drills. His softness changed into some else. You knew he was only pushing you to help but it was starting to become a little too much. You’d only been Fae for a year to his centuries. "Come on, Y/N, focus. You can handle this," he urges. Throwing a series of rapid, controlled strikes that you're meant to block and counter.

For a moment you rise to the challenge your movements sharp and sure. Yet the physical strain is relentless. All too soon it starts to mirror the inner struggled you've been trying to manage. The boundaries between physical exertion and emotional pain blur… each block and dodge feeling more like a fight against your inner demons rather than a simple training exercise.

Suddenly, one of Azriel's strikes comes a little too close, a little too fast. It isn't meant to hit you and it doesn't but the rush of air as it passes by your face triggers something within you. Panic seizes your chest and the walls you've been holding up begin to crumble. Your movements falter. Your hands drop to your sides rapidly as your breath catches in your throat.

You step back abruptly with short, ragged breaths. Azriel stops immediately, concern replacing the intensity in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks all too softly this time. He watched with concern as you struggled to compose yourself.

You nod rapidly trying to blink back the tears that want to rush out. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You murmur. It didn’t even sound believable to you. You turned you back to him so he wouldn’t see the distraught look on your face.

He steps forward with a sadness etched deeply on his features. "It's more than just tiredness, isn't it?" he asks gently as he reached out but stopped short, giving you space yet showing his readiness to support.

You shake your head again trying to compose yourself. Willing yourself to rebuild the barriers crumbling around you. "I'm fine, really, just got a little carried away," you offer weakly with your back still turned, fearing that facing him might reveal too much.

But Azriel doesn’t retreat. Instead, his shadows do what he physically refrains from—they reach out for you. You feel a cool, soothing sensation as one shadow gently curls around your arm, not binding but comforting. It was like a silent message of empathy and support. The unexpected kindness, the soft touch of darkness that doesn’t demand or judge, only seeks to comfort. But it undoes you completely.

Your defenses shatter at the tender contact. Tears finally spilling over as you turn back to face him. The floodgates opened by the gentle brush of his shadow. "I'm not fine," you admit, your voice choked with emotion. "It's all just... it's too much sometimes. I feel like I'm drowning in what I had to do. In what Feyre had to endure because of me. All because of me."

Azriel listens with his gaze never wavering. His eyes were filled with compassion and a profound understanding. His shadow retracts slightly giving you a moment, respecting your space while keeping the silent promise of his presence.

He nods his head willing you to continue. "Let it out, Y/N. You don't have to carry this alone," he says quietly finding the courage to step closer now. He opened his arms to you in an offer of comfort that you no longer have the strength to refuse.

As you step into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held, the warmth of his body contrasts with the cool touch of his shadows creating a cocoon of safety around you. "I was the one who killed the wolf that started this whole mess," you confess through sobs. Your words muffled against his chest. "Feyre took the blame to protect me... because she thought I couldn't handle the consequences."

“It’s okay,” he whispers. His voice close to your ear. “You were never meant to carry this alone.” He pauses. His hand gently lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Feyre’s path was her own. Fate had a hand in it. She was meant to meet Rhysand through Tamlin. To find her way to the Night Court. It couldn’t have been you, Y/N. Your path is different and it’s still unfolding.”

You shake your head feeling the weight of it all. “But-“

Azriel’s hold tightens reassuringly. His wings stretched around you before he stops you. “She did what she believed was right, out of love. And now you need to allow yourself to be loved and supported, too. Let your family be here for you. Let me be here for you.” he pleads, his tone imbued with a promise. In the safety of Azriel’s wings with the gentle embrace of his shadows, you feel a lightness you haven’t felt in a long time.

Beneath the shelter of his wings Azriel holds you close feeling the profound shift within as your eyes meet. In that moment a golden thread previously unseen but always present tightens, binding your soul to his. The mating bond ignites with a radiant force, undeniable and transformative.

This newfound connection stirs a deep protectiveness in Azriel, an urge to cherish and guard you that feels both ancient and freshly awakened. Love pulses through this bond unspoken yet palpable aligning his heartbeat with yours. He experiences a profound sense of belonging, understanding now that every moment with you, every shared concern, was leading to this revelation.

With the emergence of the bond, Azriel, who often cloaked himself in mystery, finds in you a clarity that illuminates his existence. This bond does not overwhelm; instead, it completes him, brightening his path forward. The world around him expands promising a journey not walked alone but side by side, in step with each breath.

Yet, the magnitude of this discovery brings a mix of elation and a daunting sense of responsibility. You are vulnerable, your soul laid bare before him, and he is cautious not to burden you further. Internally, Azriel grapples with the desire to declare the bond versus the need to provide you with stability and support without the shock of this revelation.

He resolves to keep this monumental discovery to himself for now, focusing on being your steadfast support. His shadows as a subtle extension of his will, curl gently around you both. They offered a protection and comfort without overwhelming you with the truth.

Azriel knows he must seek Rhysand’s counsel to navigate the complexities of this bond with sensitivity and respect for your emotions. As he holds you he silently vows to take this journey at a pace that honors both your readiness and the bond’s potential. Wrapped in his embrace, Azriel stands as your guardian bonded by fate yet guided by a deep respect for the journey your heart needs to undertake.

"You've been strong today," Azriel whispers into your hair as he senses your grip tighten. "Let's head back home. You need rest." His voice is as soothing as the twilight and his offer is tender, without any urgency that might hint at the truth simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The walk back from the training grounds is quiet, filled with a companionable silence that speaks of shared struggles and mutual care. As Azriel guides you to Feyre's studio, where she immerses herself in swathes of color and light, his touch lingers reassuringly on your arm. It's an affirmation of his presence, his support, his unspoken pledge to be there for you, come what may.

You offer him a soft smile. One that acknowledges the solace his presence brings even though you were still oblivious to the tectonic shift in his inner landscape. Azriel returns your smile with a quiet intensity, a vow that when the time comes for the bond to reveal itself to you he'll be there, just as he is now—steadfast, protective, and utterly devoted.

A subtle shift in Azriel’s demeanor as he prepares to leave catches Feyre's sharp eye. There's a fleeting tension, a trace of something potent and profound flickering in the depths of his usually inscrutable eyes. It's a glimpse of vulnerability. An undercurrent of panic that he's quick to disguise but not before Feyre takes note. Something significant has unsettled the shadowsinger and it likely had to do with you.

With a nod that holds more gravity than usual Azriel turns to go. His steps are measured but the urgency in his exit is apparent to anyone who knows him well. Once he steps beyond the view of the townhouse his wings unfurl, a dark silhouette against the Velaris skyline. He takes to the air with a speed driven by the need for counsel. For understanding the newly realized bond weighing on him with a mix of awe and anxiety.

He lands at the House of Wind with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him. His feet touching down on the stone with a thud. There's no time for hesitation as he makes his way to where he knows he'll find Rhysand, perhaps Cassian too. The door to the study bursts open under his force and he stands there as a figure riddled with the shock of his own heart's awakening.

Inside the study, Rhysand and Cassian pause mid-conversation as the unexpected clamor announces Azriel's approach. Concern flickers over their faces. A stark, thunderous arrival is not Azriel's way.

"Are you alright, Az?" Cassian is the first to react. His voice tinged with concern as he notes Azriel's agitated state.

Azriel pauses before catching his breath. His demeanor one of a man grappling with overwhelming news. "It's the mating bond," he manages to say with his voice tight of emotion. "With Y/N—it just... it just snapped into place."

Rhysand rises from his chair. His expression shifting to one of understanding as he processes Azriel's words. The air in the room thickens with the significance of his declaration and there's a moment of collective stillness as they all absorb the meaning.

Cassian’s previous levity fades into a solemn gravity, reflecting the seriousness of Azriel's revelation. "That’s... big news, Az. How are you feeling about this?" he asks as he stepped closer in caution.

Rhysand, maintaining his composure, offers a supportive nod. "This is a momentous time, Azriel. We’re here for you, whatever you need," he assures him embodying the role of the leader who understands the profound implications of such a bond.

Azriel exhales deeply the reality of the situation settling in. "It's overwhelming," he concedes. A frown creasing his brow. "I mean, I hoped, maybe even wished for it. But now that it’s here, it feels... heavy." He looks up. His expression serious. "She’s still healing. I need to be careful. Need to make sure this doesn’t overwhelm her."

Rhysand gives a supportive nod. "Just keep being there for her, Az. You’ve always managed to support her without pushing. This doesn’t change your approach just your understanding of the connection."

Cassian smirks, pushing off from the table and clapping Azriel on the back with a bit more force than necessary. "Look at you all serious and broody—more than usual, I mean. Come on, Az, you know you're probably the only one who can handle this with the perfect blend of mystery. Besides," he adds with a wry grin, "have you seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking? That’s not just gratitude my friend. It’s like she’s hit the jackpot and she doesn’t even know it yet."

Azriel can’t help but crack a small smile despite the turmoil inside. "Thanks, Cass. I just don’t want to mess this up."

"Don’t worry so much, brother," Cassian chuckles, his tone light but earnest. "You’re doing fine. Plus, if you start floating around like a lovestruck bat, I’ll be here to pull you back down."

Rhysand laughs softly before shaking his head at the general. "He’s right, though. Take it step by step, Azriel. Let her come to terms with her own feelings. When she’s ready it’ll be right for both of you."

Feeling somewhat lighter Azriel nods appreciatively at his brothers. "Step by step," he repeats, firming his resolve. With a final nod he steps back into the night bolstered by the mix of Cassian’s humor and Rhysand’s leadership. He was ready to face the future with a heart full of hope and a mind cautious of the delicate balance he needs to maintain.

Back in the townhouse Feyre greets you with that mischievous grin that heralds some sisterly teasing. She sets her paintbrush down before wiping her hands on a cloth as her eyes sparkle with playful curiosity. "So, what did you do to him?" she teases with a smirk on her face.

You frown genuinely puzzled by her question. "What? Nothing, I... we were just training, then he said he had to go." Your voice trails off mirroring your confusion over Azriel's sudden change in demeanor.

Feyre chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up her brush again. "That man is always so mysterious. But don't worry it's probably just Azriel things. Or maybe, just maybe, you're the perfect distraction for our dear spymaster."

"What are you on about?" you ask while feeling a mix of amusement and bewilderment at her jest.

"Oh, please!" Feyre laughs, her brush dancing over the canvas. "He looks at you like every moment you spend together is something precious. Like you're a rare painting he can't quite believe he's stumbled upon."

"You're imagining things," you dismiss her. Shaking your head with a smile. "Azriel is just being kind. He's like that with everyone."

Feyre gives you a knowing look. Her smirk broadening. "Sure, he’s kind to everyone, but with you it’s different. He doesn’t look at anyone else quite like he looks at you. Like you’ve cast a spell on him and he’s trying to figure out how to live with the enchantment."

Her words make you pause. The playful insinuation tugging at the edges of your thoughts. Despite your dismissal Feyre’s observation lingers. A teasing possibility that maybe there's a hint of truth in her playful assertions. The room fills with your laughter, a sound that masks the flutter of curiosity her words have sparked.

Unbeknownst to you while you puzzle over Azriel's sudden departure, Feyre's mind is swiftly connecting with Rhysand's. A silent inquiry flits through their bond: Something's up with Azriel, he seemed... off. Did I miss something?

Rhysand's mental response comes with a chuckle that Feyre can almost hear: He’s fine, love. Just had a bit of a revelation. He’ll share when he's ready.

A spark of mischief lights up Feyre’s eyes as understanding dawns on her. Her lips curve into a sly, knowing grin. But she carefully masks any hint of her newfound knowledge from you. "You know, I think we deserve some fun today. Just us twins. You’ve been pushing hard with all that training and brooding," she suggests. Her voice bubbling with an excitement that piques your curiosity.

"Really? What did you have in mind?" you ask. Your earlier confusion over Azriel's behavior giving way to intrigue at Feyre's sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, just a day for us to unwind and maybe get into a little mischief," Feyre replies, winking. "We can leave the mysteries of shadowy spymasters behind and focus on spoiling ourselves."

You laugh while nodding in agreement, relieved to set aside the morning's puzzles. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As the day unfolds with Feyre leading the way with her occasional secretive smiles and the warmth of her company envelop you, making you feel cherished and a part of something larger than just sisterly bonding. Every now and then she throws you a look filled with unspoken laughter as if she's in on a joke that’s yet to be told adding an intriguing layer to your day out.

"Enjoy today," Feyre says at one point. Her grin infectious. "Because who knows? Tomorrow you might find yourself swept off your feet in ways you never expected." Her words are light, but they dance with implication, leaving you wondering about the possibilities that tomorrow might bring.

As the days unfold since your training session you begin to notice an unusual shift in Azriel's behavior when he's around you. Always the quiet, stoic presence, he now seems to carry an air of nervousness that is both surprising and endearing. It's as if he's forgotten how to be around you. His typically smooth demeanor replaced with an awkwardness that sends a ripple of amusement throughout your days.

During your daily routines, whether you're practicing combat skills or just strolling through the lush gardens of the Night Court, Azriel is consistently by your side. Yet, his typical quiet confidence seems to falter. Today when he hands you a training sword his fingers not only linger but also tremble slightly against yours. The contact is brief but the moment his skin brushes against yours a visible blush creeps up his neck coloring his cheeks in a rare show of discomposure.

"Sorry," he stutters. Quickly retracting his hand as if scorched by the brief contact. He averts his gaze making sure to look anywhere but at you. His discomfort palpable in the tight set of his shoulders.

You can't help but tilt your head eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Azriel, are you alright?" you ask with a hint of a smile on your lips. Your voice is soft though hoping to ease some of his evident tension. The gardens around you bloom vibrantly. A stark contrast to Azriel’s suddenly flustered state.

He clears his throat attempting to regain some of his usual composure. "Yes, I'm... fine," he manages. His voice a notch higher than usual. He meets your gaze again holding it for a moment longer than he intends. The intensity of his stare both confusing and thrilling.

Just then as if to spite Azriel, Cassian strolls by and upon noticing Azriel's flushed face and your puzzled expression he can't help but let out a snicker. "Lost your cool, Shadowsinger?" he teases, winking at you before continuing on his way with a chuckle. "You’re usually smoother than this, brother!"

Azriel shoots Cassian a brief glare but there's a resigned humor in his eyes that suggests he knows just how out of character he must seem. As Cassian’s laughter fades into the distance Azriel finally turns back to you attempting a sheepish smile.

"It seems I'm a bit out of sorts today," he admits. His voice finally steadying. "Nothing to worry about, really."

Watching Azriel grapple with this uncharacteristic awkwardness only endears him more to you. There’s a sweetness in his struggle. A reminder that beneath the composed façade of the Night Court’s spymaster lies a depth of emotion rarely seen but profoundly felt.

On a tranquil afternoon in the Night Court, you find yourself relaxing in one of the quieter gardens alongside Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. The air is filled with gentle laughter and the soft rustling of leaves. Cassian and Nesta are notably absent, presumably because Cassian has taken it upon himself to "help" Nesta with some errands—a pursuit that everyone knows often ends in playful bickering and affectionate banter.

Elain has also opted for a day out with Lucien exploring new botanical gardens on the outskirts of the city. Her passion for plants and Lucien's support in her endeavors showcases the growing bond between them.

The conversation flows easily until Rhys, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, steers it towards Azriel’s recent scouting mission. "Azriel here stumbled upon something quite intriguing recently, didn’t you?" he teases while watching Azriel closely.

Caught off-guard Azriel’s response is delayed, his eyes widening slightly as if Rhys had tread into forbidden territory. "It was nothing out of the ordinary," he finally mutters. Though his voice holds a trace of unease.

Feyre jumps into the fray. Her tone laced with playful curiosity. "Oh, but I heard it was quite the discovery. Rare and fascinating… something that might deeply engage a man’s interest."

You laugh completely oblivious to the underlying meaning and look at Azriel with raised eyebrows. "What was it, Az? Some kind of hidden gem or a lost artifact?"

There’s a brief moment where Azriel’s composure falters under your direct gaze, his eyes meeting yours before quickly glancing away. He recovers quickly, however, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Yes, something like that," he agrees, his voice steadying. "A discovery that could indeed change one’s perspective for a lifetime."

Rhys doesn't miss a beat adding with a light chuckle, "Let’s hope it’s not kept secret too long. Such treasures are better when shared, right?"

Feyre nods enthusiastically. Her eyes dancing with amusement. "Especially when they bring people closer together, right, Az?"

Azriel meets Feyre’s gaze. His expression settling into a subtle smile that hints at his deep thoughts. “Indeed,” he replies quietly, the single word rich with unspoken meaning, affirming the sentiment with his usual succinct eloquence.

As the conversation moves on the jokes and laughter continue, your heart warmed by the newfound perspective you found with them. Azriel watches you with a gentle, albeit slightly wistful smile. He noticed how much more you're around, how your laughter fills the air more often, and how your vibrant personality begins to shine through once more. His heart fills with a mixture of relief and deep affection, seeing the signs of your healing. In these moments he cherishes the progress you've made feeling hopeful about the future. He was ready to support you every step of the way as the true nature of his discovery waits to be shared with you.

As the weeks blend into months, the connection between you and Azriel deepens. It was nurtured by shared moments and his unwavering support. On a crisp evening as the sun begins its descent painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, Azriel brings you to a secluded hilltop that overlooks Velaris. This spot was known only to him and offers a panoramic view of the city as it starts to twinkle with the first lights of evening, the natural grassy surface underfoot soft and inviting.

Standing close by his presence was both comforting and solid, Azriel shares a story, his voice low and warm, recounting a humorous mishap from his early days as a spymaster. The tale is endearing, revealing a less guarded side of him and laughter bubbles up freely from your throat.

As your laughter transitions into a soft chuckle, you turn to face him. The last rays of the sunset bathe Azriel in a warm, golden light that illuminates his features, casting a glow that outlines him like an ethereal halo. His eyes that were filled with affection and a hint of amusement, meet yours. In that instant something profound shifts within you.

It feels as if a key has turned, unlocking something wondrous and overwhelming. The mating bond, which has been delicately weaving its way through each of your interactions, now clicks into place with perfect clarity. The sensation is electrifying yet profoundly comforting. Resonating through your very being.

Your breath catches and your heart races—not just from the shock of the realization but from the undeniable rightness that surges through you. Azriel, noticing the subtle transformation in your expression halts his story. A flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks with his voice tinged with worry. The humor from his story now replaced by attentive care.

A mix of joy and amazement washes over you as you feel a comforting swirl of his shadows around your feet. Like curious creatures affirming this new connection. "Azriel, I think... I think the mating bond just…," you trailed off unsure how to continue. Your voice was filled with awe. The realization brings a new depth to your smile as you meet his gaze which is now shimmering with a mixture of relief and happiness.

"That's what I've been feeling," Azriel breathes out, a tender smile spreading across his face as he steps closer. He reaches out gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I've been waiting, hoping you would feel it too when the time was right."

Taking his hand, you feel a warmth that goes beyond physical touch. A connection that seeps into the depths of your soul. "I’m glad it’s you," you say quietly, sincerely, the words flowing easily.

Azriel’s other hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His touch feather light. "And I’m honored it’s you," he responds. His gaze locked with yours. The world around you—the city lights, the soft whisper of the evening breeze—fades into a gentle backdrop to the profound connection you share.

In this moment with Azriel’s shadows dancing around, playful, and protective, you feel a sense of completeness. A promise of endless possibilities. Together, bonded not just by fate but by a mutual understanding you know that whatever the future holds you'll get to navigate it side by side.

As the realization of the mating bond settles between you, Azriel's shadows seem to take on a life of their own. They swirled around you both with a newfound enthusiasm. The delicate tendrils of darkness weave around your legs and occasionally brush against your hands as if testing and reinforcing the connection that has just been acknowledged.

Azriel watches with a tender amusement as his shadows interact with you, their movements more animated than usual. "They seem to have taken quite a liking to you," he comments. His voice warm with affection and a hint of pride. "They're not usually this... attentive."

As the shadows continue their gentle dance around you, one particularly daring tendril snakes up your arm, its touch lighter than a feather. You can't help but laugh. The sound echoing softly in the quiet of the evening. With a delighted grin you reach out to trace the path of the shadow with your fingertips, marveling at the cool, tingling sensation it leaves on your skin.

Azriel continues watching with an affectionate roll of his eyes accompanying his half-smirk. "You're going to spoil them," he teases. His tone light but full of warmth.

Encouraged by your positive reaction another shadow playfully darts forward and mimics the motion of a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle with joy, your hand touching the spot in mock surprise and then you're both laughing. A shared moment of joy and wonder at the peculiar yet endearing behavior of the shadows.

Azriel shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. "Now you've done it. They're going to expect this king of attention all the time," he jokes as the shadows around him swirled in what you swear could be shadowy laughter.

"You know, I think I'm okay with that," you respond still smiling as you watch the shadows retreat slightly, as if bashful from the attention. "They're quite charming. Just like someone else I know." You glance up at Azriel with a playful smirk. Enjoying the light flush that colors his cheeks at the compliment.

The shadows, seemingly pleased with their role in this light-hearted exchange, settle more calmly around you both like a contented sigh after a bout of laughter. The protective circle they form feels like a gentle embrace not just from Azriel but from all parts of him.

As the laughter fades Azriel's expression turns tender, his gaze softening as he searches your face looking for any sign of unease. "But seriously," he says with his voice low and earnest, "are you really okay?" His concern is palpable. The bond between you making every emotion, every nuance of feeling that much more intense and meaningful.

You meet his gaze feeling a surge of warmth from his sincere concern. Smiling gently, you nod, the tranquility of the moment filling you with a profound sense of peace. "I really am okay. For the first time in a long time," you admit. Your voice steady and sure. The confession feels like a significant acknowledgment of the journey you've been on and the role Azriel, and his shadows, have played in it.

Azriel's smile in response is radiant. A look of relief and happiness that brightens his entire demeanor. "That's all I’ve ever wanted to hear," he murmurs. His voice soft with emotion. He stands closer, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Come on, love," he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let's fly home."

With a graceful motion Azriel unfurls his expansive wings, the dark feathers shimmering under the starlight. The sight never fails to take your breath away. He wraps an arm securely around your waist, his touch reassuring. "Ready?" he asks. His voice a low rumble filled with excitement and anticipation.

With a nod you cling to him, feeling the rush of air as he leaps into the sky. Velaris unfolds below you. It was a gorgeous tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind was cool and exhilarating against your face. Flying with Azriel, held close against his chest, the city sprawling beneath you is an experience that feels as if it straddles the line between dream and reality.

The flight is swift and smooth. The quiet only broken by the rushing wind and the steady beat of Azriel's powerful wings. The world seems to shrink away, leaving only the two of you soaring through the night sky. As the House of Wind comes into view Azriel’s descent is gentle, a reminder of his skill and care for you.

You land softly on the balcony, the cool night breeze playing around you, still wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Just as you touch down the laughter and lively banter of the Inner Circle reach your ears from inside.

As you and Azriel step through the grand doors of the House of Wind the lively atmosphere of the Inner Circle greets you. Cassian's booming voice fills the foyer as he spots you descending from the balcony. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Or were you two plotting to take over Velaris with your love-struck scheming?" he teases, winking not so conspicuously.

Rhysand joins in with a sly grin. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think they were busy weaving shadows and starlight. Look how they landed, like a pair of night-blooming flowers." His voice was laden with humor and draws a round of chuckles from around the room.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain watch from the side, their expressions varying degrees of amusement and affection. Feyre's eyes meet yours and she gives you an approving nod. Her smile suggesting she understands more than she lets on. Nesta’s smirk is more enigmatic but supportive while Elain’s gentle gaze is filled with romantic delight at the scene unfolding before her.

Amid the teasing Azriel keeps you close, his arm remaining protectively around your waist. The warmth of his embrace reassures you. His presence a calming force against the good-natured ribbing. "Ignore them," he murmurs softly against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the laughter. His voice is rich with affection and a hint of playfulness that only you are privy to.

"You make it sound so easy," you whisper back, unable to suppress a smile feeling buoyed by the love filling the room.

As the evening progresses the light banter continues, with everyone occasionally casting teasing glances your way, making playful comments about the inseparable duo you and Azriel have become. Despite the jests there’s an underlying current of genuine happiness for you both. A celebration of the deepening bond that everyone seems to recognize and respect.

The night unfolds with shared stories, laughter, and an occasional clinking of glasses in toasts, not just to the night but to new beginnings and magical connections. As you stand by Azriel’s side, surrounded by friends who are more like family. You feel a profound sense of belonging and happiness. Here in the heart of the Night Court, under the watchful eyes of the stars and the soft glow of the city, you are home—not just in place, but in heart, bound by love, laughter, and the eternal dance of shadows and light.

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[artethyst]

~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister!Reader x OC

Little Ezekiel was not like his cousins.

Nyx, older only by two years, was cheerful and outgoing, curious like his mother and with an unbridled fearlessness just like his father.

Baby Thena, the youngest of the three, who had only just began to walk- toddle, already had the will of both her mother and father.

Cassian’s mischievous grin with Nesta’s piercing gaze.

Ezekiel, however, was just like Azriel.

He was very shy, in fact, he preferred to hide behind his mother’s legs and cling onto the shimmering skirts that pooled over them than chase after his cousins.

Rest his curly mop of raven hair against his father’s neck who was more than happy to scoop him up and carry him around, protective over the innocent child who had yet to be tainted by Prythian’s cruelties.

It was no secret Azriel preferred it that way, Rhysand and Cassian often teasing his parental axiety and overbearing behaviour, reminding him his son was an Illyrian after all.

Just as Illyrian as he had once been- delicate wings folded against his little back but with unblemished hands and love in his heart.

Azriel would keep it that way.

His Mate knew it was because of the innate fear of the Mother snatching his happiness away- as though he had never deserved it.

Ezekiel was a little miracle.

Not only were Fae children rare, the dangerous birth had put his mother in a coma, and him confined to the Healer’s for the first month of his wavering life.

It was the worst time of Azriel’s centuries long existence.

If he had been protective before, he was a hundred times worse now

When the other children played, Ezekiel was happy to curl up in another adult’s lap, to which many of them had no qualms, as Ezekiel was just the “cutest” according to Mor- a tiny version of his father that the Inner Circle could squeeze and smother with kisses.

Feyre often scolded Nyx for dragging the poor boy around, but Ezekiel held no grudges, a small blush on his face as his cousin tugged him along ranting on about whatever a child of his age had to rant about.

But now it was time for him to leave the nest.

The one his parents has so throughly wound.

“Ezekiel,” his mother bent down to his eye level, twinkling hazel eyes wide and scared. “Mama will be back soon okay?”

The little boy’s lip wobbled and tiny fists came to rub at his eyes which quickly filled with tears. His silent sobs broke her heart, Madja had always said he was an easy baby, like his father.

And even now- when he cried, he tried to hide it.

It worried her- that he would never throw a tantrum or openly seek comfort- but hide it as though he was ashamed to feel.

He choked back little cries as his mother had to force away her own.

She hated to think her little boy felt the need to internalise his feelings- especially from her.

Azriel had assured her it was okay- that he had been that way too, even when his own mother had shown him nothing but love.

“You’ll have lots of fun my Little Shadow,” she pressed a deep kiss to his wet cheek, gently brushing away his tears, trying not only to convince him but herself. “Nyx will be with you-“

“Yepppp! Come on ‘Zekiellllll!” His cousin’s voice sang in anticipation, not understanding why the boy was so reluctant to play with toys and read funny picture books all day.

Ezekiel continued to cry and so his mother picked him up, cradling him against her chest as he sobbed without restraint.

Unusual for such a well-behaved child such as he.

“D-Don’t leave me mama!” He wept. “I-I pwomise I’ll be good p-pwease don’t give me away!”

Her heart broke as he trembled and her free hand came to stroke at his curls, the way she had done to comfort her own husband many a time.

“I would never give you away my darling, and you have not been bad,” she smoothed his raven locks, “you are a big boy now, just like Nyx. You are old enough go and play with all other children-“

“I not a big boy I-I still a baby!” He cried and that was when his father appeared, face just as torn as his mother’s.

The boy did not giggle as he usually did when his father’s shadows came to tickle against his cheek, his cries coming out in small hiccups as she looked to Azriel in pure misery.

He wordlessly plucked the child from her arms, his own chest tightening at the sound of his only child’s pained cries- crying under the belief he was being abandoned.

Azriel had vowed his child would never feel the way he had, unloved and nothing but a burden the Mother was so cruel to burden the equally dismal world with.

His Mate had changed that outlook.

And now his greatest treasure- a part of them both, homage to their fiery passion and proof the Shadowsinger was indeed capable of love.

Ezekiel continued to cry as Azriel’s shadows were equally as unsettled, trying their best to cheer up the little boy who quivered so violently, he might have fallen from his father’s arms had the older male’s grip been so secure.

He would rather suffer burns across his entire flesh- take Truthteller to his heart than have his son feel unwanted.

“You know that your mother and I love you- more than anything. More than the sky above.”

Ezekiel sniffed, his little head nodding pathetically as best it could smushed into Azriel’s chest.

“You are our little star Ezekiel. You are the most precious thing to us- in all of Prythian. We would never let anything or anyone harm you, you never have to be afraid of the world as long as I am here.”

Feyre stood in the distance- letting her brother-in-law share the moment with his son, knowing just how heartbroken Rhys was at the same situation.

The difference was, Nyx hardly gave him a second glance- sprinting into the unfamiliar building with a new sense of reverence and promise of adventure.

“D-Daddy stay?” The boy became hopeful as Azriel shook his head, running a hand lovingly through his son’s inherited locks- a sense of pride and indescribable love overwhelming him at the sight.

Before he could come up with some semblance of comfort, Feyre saved the day. Pressing a wet kiss to her nephew’s cheek with an infectious smile on her warm face.

It wasn’t that she thought her own sister incapable, she just knew the poor woman was just as worried as Azriel.

Their forced smiles and glossy eyes hardly convincible even to a child.

“Hmmm, a little shadow told me that Uncle Cass has a surprise back home waiting for his best Spy…”

The boy paused, his little face red and besmirched with tears but an undeniable curiosity to his eye.

“Spies don’t cry Zekie!” Nyx chimed in as his mother sent him a gentle look of reprimand. “Come onnnnn, the faster we get home, the faster we get the suprise!”

“You like painting, don’t you Ezekiel?” Feyre continued, distracting the boy enough for him to perk up in curiosity, loosening his little balled fisted grip on his father’s leathers. “Would you like me to show you the art room?”

Azriel- albeit reluctantly, lowered his son to the ground, gently encouraging him towards Feyre who happily received his little hand in hers.

The Shadowsinger took his Mate into his arms as replacement, the loss of his son weighing heavy even on his own marred heart.

The boy had never once been out of their sight for so long.

And as Feyre guided him into the Nursery, her sister mouthing a watery ‘thank you’ as a tear cascaded down her cheek, Azriel couldn’t help but let one of his own slip as Ezekiel passed through the doors and out of his sight.

Hesitant in his little steps, but with his cousin there to help him along.

Just as Rhysand had done for his father.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 6: Awaken. Remember. Live.

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: The mortal queens are bitches. Rhysand requests to speak with Nyra. Azriel befriends the twins. The sisters are Made.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

The meeting with those godforsaken queens made Nesta feel like stomping all over them. She wanted to strangle, stab and slap them at the same time. They were willing to let innocents die in the name of a necessary sacrifice or some horseshit.

Nesta felt too much anger, too much pain, too much grief at what fate awaited the people here. Their servants did not live that far away and could be called back immediately. But she would not call them. If anyone were to be endangered because she had allowed fae to come to their residence and use it as a venue for the meetings?

In total five fae had visited. Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Morrigan and... She did not allow herself to think of the last one. Did not allow herself to think of that one moment of proximity she had shared with him.

Nesta had watched Elain curse the queens to hell. Watched Nyra's gaze turn cold and colder as the queens spout their nonsense. Feyre was drained of hope. And what did she feel? She felt everything and nothing. Nesta knew that Elain would likely ignore those queens if she were to meet them again but Nyra? What would Nyra do? The way she had seen the fury rise was something she had seen only once.

She laid a hand on her twin's shoulder. Nyra looked back, unflinchingly. The twins continued to stare at each other before Nyra closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. The shadows surrounding her skirts gently swam upwards and caressed her hand. Nyra looked at them and opened her palm for them.

"Things have escalated beyond the scope of my family's safety. I expect you to keep your word." Nesta turned to Rhysand. The High Lord of Night simply nodded. He had already arranged for their protection from the moment they first visited.

The shadows were caressing Nyra's hands. Azriel's older shadows were now here and they had immediately joined the newborns but Nyra barely responded. She did not move her fingers in response to their playful touches. That upset the shadows. Azriel continued watching them even as he was engrossed in discussion with Rhysand and Cassian regarding their next course of action.

The twins remained quiet for a few seconds before Elain walked over and sat on the carpet right next to Nesta’s legs and laid her head on her lap. The sisters sat there solemnly, lost in their worlds. Their beauty was painful. One of them, ready to mourn the anticipated losses. One of them, forcing herself to accept everything. And one of them, lost in a world far beyond.

Feyre now felt separated. In appearance and name, she was one of them and yet, she was not. She was now fae and she was once human. For the first time since her rebirth, she despised the immortality that separated her from her sisters. 

Through a bond partially unknown to the youngest Archeron, Rhysand felt her. He watched his mate and her sisters. 

“Feyre.” At the call of her name, she looked and found her sisters watching her curiously. Nesta had been the one to call her. 

“Come. Join us.” Nesta invited. Feyre blinked back a tear. Elain wordlessly extended an arm to her. The fourth sister walked over and took her sister’s arm. She sat down on the floor next to Elain, right in front of Nyra’s legs. She placed her head on her older sister’s lap and felt a hand on her head. 

“Is anyone even ready for what is going to happen?” Elain asked. Worry was all over her. In her voice, her expressions, her entire body. 

“No.” Nesta’s answer was a reminder of reality. 

“They’ll hurt you.” Elain reached a hand out and took Feyre’s hand in her own. Tears pooled in their eyes.

“They’ll kill me.” Feyre answered with the same bluntness she had picked up from Nesta. 

“Which is what we want to prevent.” Rhys spoke, unable to hold back from speaking. The sisters felt too hopeless but they did not accept anything. They did not accept the possibility of Feyre being hunted for her power, for the destruction that loomed over the mortal lands, the death that awaited Nyra if she couldn't recover and her illness consumed her completely. 

Nothing. 

“And if it can’t be prevented?” Nyra finally asked. She looked away from the window and met the High Lord’s gaze. “What of my sisters if this war can’t be prevented?” Nesta sharply turned her head to her twin. 

“Your sisters will be protected. As will you. No harm shall befall any of you.”

“Can you promise that?” Nyra challenged, remembering what promises meant to fae.

“I promise all my power, all my resources, to protecting the four of you. Even at the cost of my life.” A tattoo bloomed in the palm of Nyra’s right hand. A small star right where the thumb and index finger met. The shadows played with her hand as she inspected the tattoo.

"I am asking if you can promise my sisters' safety." Rhys had no answer to that. And hope died a quick death. It left behind nothing. And everything felt like it had never even been there. Nyra resumed looking outside the window. Winter was cruel.

"Nyra." Feyre looked up at her sister who was still staring at the world outside the window."We're leaving now." Nyra hummed. She kept patting her sister's head but did not meet her gaze. "I'll come visit whenever I can."

Feyre's last statement was reserved for a future with no war. But if there wasn't any possibility of war, would she have ever visited? The answer was easily no. So why would she deign to visit after the war ends. Would there be anything left here for her to visit? Maybe. Maybe not. The book they sought was now in their possession.

Rhysand adjusted his jacket and swallowed. He brushed off some non-existent lint and walked forward. "I would like to speak to you, Nyra."

The sisters looked up from where they sat. Rhysand's tall figure stood a couple of feet away from them but it did not hover over them.

"Alone." He added. Nyra nodded and patted Feyre's head thrice. Her youngest sister removed her head from her lap and stood up.

Nyra led Rhysand to her father's office. Nesta, Azriel and Cassian followed. Nyra and Rhysand entered the office and closed the door behind them. Azriel and Cassian flanked the sides of the closed door, guarding it from interruptions. Nesta leaned on the wall opposite to the door with her eyes closed and arms crossed.

****

"You wish to speak to me?” Nyra asked. She motioned a hand to the armchair before her as an offer for him to sit. But Rhysand kneeled before her. Nyra blinked once and then asked. “What is this about?”

“I understand that there’s a tradition of speaking to the female’s relatives in the mortal lands.” Rhysand sounded uncharacteristically nervous. And he was. This was the sister Feyre spoke with endless love and tenderness. The sister who had guarded his dear mate’s heart. 

“Does it really require you to kneel? I’m sure taking a seat won’t be-"

“I ask for your blessings, as Feyre’s older sister, for when I propose marriage.” Rhys’s interruption had silenced Nyra.

“I wish to walk by her side this life. To love her through all of it. Through happiness and misery. Through riches and poverty. With all my power, blood, body, mind and soul that I am, I wish to be hers, if she’ll have me.” 

The High Lord of the Night Court now dipped his head. “I plan to propose to her once she has completely settled in this new life as fae and once I am certain she bears affections for me. If she ever loves me and if we ever have a chance at a union, I hope you can bless it wherever you will be then.” 

Nyra knew what that meant when he said wherever she would be. Even if she were no longer alive, he wanted her blessing. 

“You are a High Lord. You have greater priorities than a marriage with my sister who is still unaware of your feelings.” 

None greater than my mate. She heard his voice but he was not speaking. Nyra was now confused. I can speak to you mind to mind. It is a rare ability among my kind. Those who wield it are called daemati.

“What’s a mate?” And Rhysand explained the entire concept of mates to her. He was honest about real life examples of mates including his parents and the miserable union his mother had endured. And how he hoped that Feyre and he could be happy with each other. 

“What if she does not fall in love with you? Or what if she has a change of heart even if she does fall in love with you?” Both of them knew very well what had happened between Feyre and Tamlin. A repetition was not acceptable.

“I will let her go. She will have everything to lead her life as she pleases regardless of whether she returns my affections or has a change of heart after being with me.” 

“Cassian told me that the fae are bound by their promises.” She looked at the small star in her palm that had appeared mere minutes ago.

“I shall make you as many promises as you require of me.” The stars in his eyes were blinking now.

“To love her. To cherish her. To help her when she needs it. And to let go if she wants it. To never hurt her. Promise it, Rhysand. All of it.” She walked forward and stopped right in front of him.

“I promise.” He took her hand and looked up at her face. Even with his teary gaze, he could see the silent tears trailing down Nyra’s eyes. “I will love Feyre Archeron with all that I am, body, mind, power and soul. I will help her when she needs it. I will let her go peacefully without a fight if she chooses to leave me. I will not hurt her in any manner even if she does accept me and then has a change of heart. If by any chance, she does accept me and chooses to be with me, I will care for her. I promise that she will never want for anything so long as I can do anything about it. I will protect her and value her life above my own at all times. I will never consider her inferior to me, only my equal and above. She will not be sidelined as a wife or a consort. She will rule beside me as my equal in the Night Court. This is my promise to you, Nyra Archeron.” 

And with that, a tattoo bloomed in the palms of their respective hands which were connected. Nyra felt a tingling sensation and turned her hand to see it. She turned his own hand and saw the identical tattoos bloom. It was a crescent moon and a single star formed in the space where the remaining part of the moon should have been to be a full one. She looked at his face with a questioning glance.

“Promises among the fae are evidenced by tattoos.” Rhys’s words still held a glimmer of hope that reflected in the stars in his eyes. “I promise to accept whatever punishment you deem fit for me should I break any of my promises to you.” Another tattoo for another promise but this time, the new tattoo was like a continuation of the old one. The borders of the crescent moon were now lined with small flowers and smaller leaves. 

In Nyra’s absence, the tattoo would burn him like all tattoos did when bargains were broken. During her lifetime, she would choose his punishment. 

“You have my blessing so as long as you keep your word.” Nyra nodded at him. He turned their hands, now hiding their palms. Rhys kissed the back of Nyra’s hand with tears flowing down his cheeks freely. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. He repeated it so many times, completely consumed by Nyra’s acceptance of a union with Feyre, if it ever happened. Nyra stood up, placed her hands on his shoulders. She gently led him to stand up and take a seat next to her in the armchair which she had initially offered for a seat. 

From outside the room, Azriel and Cassian flanked the doors like guards. They heard every single word and tears formed in their eyes. They shared a single glance and looked away. Cassian lifted a hand to press his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. He lifted his chin to avoid the tears from spilling. Azriel simply willed himself to remain stoic. And even then the shadows did not stop telling him about Nyra's tears.

Nesta, who had been standing in front of the door, had heard everything. She gave no reaction and simply turned and walked away. She did not mind that Rhysand had asked Nyra about this and not her. She was not worthy anyway. As someone who did nothing but let her anger consumer her, she was unworthy. She was nothing.

****

“She's never going to return.” Elain remarked as they stared at the spot from where the fae had disappeared.

“She won’t. Fae are not welcome in the mortal lands.” Nesta answered quietly.

She thought of Rhysand who was in love with Feyre. If Feyre did ever accept Rhysand as a lover, she would definitely not return. He was someone who wielded power and influence. He was polite to them only because they were related to the woman he loved. His only obligation other than the relation was the threat the war posed to the lands he ruled.

For his people, Rhysand would fight, beg, and bow. He would kill and be killed, do and endure worse. Nesta felt like Rhys might have already gone through all of that if he had been High Lord for over five centuries.

Nesta looked at Nyra who looked at the sky from the closed window. Elain had returned to her room and had informed them that she would join them for preparing lunch at noon. That would be three hours. Nesta resolved to read another novel to distract herself. Her mind was a whirlpool but her thoughts could not swim. Everything was happening, all at once. She did not want to drown in the water. Amidst her desire, she had become the fire that burned cold.

Her twin had yet to recover completely. Nyra had a life to live. Like Elain, she had to live, laugh, and love. Elain had found someone to love, the evidence of it resting on the ring finger of her left hand. Nyra too deserved a life. Nesta did not. She did not deserve to be loved.

Love was a luxury Nesta did not deserve but her sisters loved her. Her twin, the younger one she protected and the youngest whom she tried to hate with all of her being. And she felt a spark of it just recently. Nesta walked away and ascended the stairs, hoping the movement would remove old thoughts and replace it with new ones.

When Nesta reached Elain’s room, she could hear the sobs before she knocked. Her hand halted and she hesitated more as the sobs continued. She retreated as quietly as possible and headed to her bedroom.

The doors opened and her grand bedroom revealed itself. It was a splash of burgundy curtains, brick red sheets with ochre pillows and cushions. She preferred gold over the silver that Nyra preferred. Red, however, sang to her. And she tossed a few logs into the fireplace and lit it. The glow of the flames brought out the spirit of the room and its occupant.

She turned at the sound of a single knock on the door which was Nyra’s preferred pattern of knocking. “Come in!” Her twin entered the room, the golden glow of the flames colouring her as she approached Nesta by the fireplace.

And the sisters did not speak, but revelled in the silence for hours to Elain came by and reminded them of lunch.

****

The days passed by. Previously, the monotony that was only interrupted when either Cassian or Azriel visited. Cassian had stopped visiting after his banter with Nesta had once escalated to the point where she had banished him from setting foot into the estate unless it was to meet the queens. But now, the meetings with the queens had come to pass. Their fae guests had gotten their hands on whatever they sought. There was no more communication from them.

A gentle tap on her window late in the night has Nyra looking outside. Nesta walked over and opened the window. For a moment, she was convinced it was just the wind but she looked back instantly to find Azriel materialising from the shadows next to Nyra’s bed. Nesta closed the window and walked over. The two of them sat down on the chairs near the bed.

“No news from the queens.” Nesta began. It was a disappointing update. Azriel nodded at her once.

“How are things otherwise?” He asked kindly. He was probably referring to her health but Nyra did not ignore the possibility of him asking it in a general sense.

“Things are as dull as they can be.” Nyra replied, the dullness she mentioned lacing her voice.

“I hear the two of you have reading habits.” He lifted a palm and the shadows brought a neatly wrapped package. Azriel gently set it on the bedside table. He wasn’t sure why he bought them but he didn’t like the idea of revisiting for the first time alone just like that. “They are novels from our world.”

Nesta couldn’t accept the world of the fae but Azriel was the most polite and well mannered of the bunch. She nodded with a hum. Nyra took the package eagerly and began unwrapping it. When she couldn’t get it right after a point of time, she frowned and ripped the package. Azriel chuckled at the enthusiasm. The three books lay on the blankets above her lap. Hardcover with a carefully intricate design drawn over it. Nyra beamed at him with a smile and his gaze softened.

Nesta saw the exchange and knew that they might talk about those novels at some point once the sisters had read them. And it would have been fine. Anything would be accepted as a topic of conversation except the hopeless news from the queens. Conversation with Azriel had been surprisingly easier. Conversation with Cassian was either a headache or a challenge or both.

Nesta knew that she missed Cassian. Because she was actually starting to look forward to their banters. Despite her declaration of banishment, Cassian would visit whenever he claimed Azriel was busy. She knew he liked their interactions. She also knew that Nyra was starting to like the fae. That her dear twin had started enjoying Azriel and Cassian’s company. Nesta had watched as Cassian and Nyra joke around each other. And Azriel and Nyra had discussed books and histories of their kind and a friendship had bloomed between them.

“The Treaty between the fae and the humans was a headache.” Azriel sighed. Nyra raised a curious eyebrow. “Rhys was healing, so he wasn’t there. Cassian and Mor attended on our behalf and I was travelling around the Night Court.”

“And this was around the time Rhys became High Lord?” Azriel nodded his head at Nyra’s question.

“We barely have any records here in our side of the world.” There it was. The stark reminder that they were from different worlds and that even this odd story of friendship would be a difficult thing to maintain. Maybe, someday in the future, Azriel would forget them. Feyre would forget ever having sisters white they would remember her their entire lives.

“Any information about anything that old is either word of mouth or anything passed down by families. Official records exist in the archives of the mortal queens but that remains unavailable to the common folk.”

Nyra watched him with lips slightly parted. Nesta knew at once something ridiculous was cooking inside her head. As smart as Nyra was, she could say the most outrageous things at times.

"I will never be able to digest the fact that you are so old." Nyra spoke. Azriel let out a snort and a small laugh. "Even our ancestors with the Archeron name would not have been born five centuries ago and you were there. During the war, after it, and now. It's just..."

"Even the thought of it is inconceivable." Nesta spoke where Nyra trailed away. Azriel turned to her with a curiousity. "To have lived in what we refer to as the past and to stand before our eyes as though you have not aged."

"We haven't aged since we were thirty. That's when fae are considered to be completely adults." Azriel explained. He did not dwell on the details of how Illyrians aged and how it differed from others.

It had been almost a month since the mortal Archerons saw anyone from the Night Court. And the sisters were not ashamed to admit that they missed their company. Not only had they lost their sister to immortality but also new friends. Nesta would never consider the fae her friends but Nyra would. She had befriended Azriel and Cassian and even Rhysand to an extent. Even Elain had been a part of their conversations with Morrigan bringing tea for them. But with the war to prepare for, nobody visited. And they remained confined to their estate.

****

A sweet voice kept calling out to her. By her name. Over and over again. In the depths of what seemed like the abyss, the bright silhouette of a female called out to her.

“Nyra.” She had never heard a more melodious voice. Soothing and calm. Something so different from what she had experienced so far. Drastically so.

“Awaken.” The voice whispered. “Remember.” It felt like somebody was holding their hand. That hand was soft, their grip gentle. Slowly, Nyra felt herself be tugged forward. She did not know whether she was standing or floating or flying but she somehow followed that tug. "Live."

An entire life flashed before her eyes. Birth. Childhood. Adolescence. Adulthood. Age. And finally, death. Parents, siblings, friends, love. It felt like a story unwrap itself before her eyes. She soaked in every detail before she realised what exactly was happening. A life was showing itself.

And she would remember. Stories long forgotten and unrecorded because it belonged to someone who did not win. To someone who had not made their mark in history. The resolve to make that mark. A footprint to be recorded in history books. To become a winner because winners write history. Winners are remembered.

The next life came forth. The next book opened. Chapter one, two, three, four and till the end of the book.

Some lives felt like watching a mural. Some felt like novels. Some felt like dreams. Some felt like something else. And she wanted to see. After being confined in the house for so long, Nyra Archeron wanted to live. And so she opened everything.

“Slowly, my child.” The voice whispered. “Everything is yours.”

Nesta Archeron had drowned in the Cauldron promising death to the King. The King watched warily as she walked towards her Cauldron Made sister. She pushed Lucien away and took Elain in her arms and looked around. And then at the King and roared. “Where’s she?” Her eyes blazed with the promise of death. Everything would end at her hands.

Nyra Archeron had yet to rise from the Cauldron. The King looked at the Cauldron and signalled two of his soldiers to pull the last sister. The twins were pushed in together after Elain. The trembling fawn and the fanged beast had risen. And now, the chirping of a thousand birds sounded across the room. The two soldiers who were supposed to pull Nyra out screamed in pain and fell to the ground as though they were puppets and their strings had been cut.

Azriel looked up, his blurry vision allowing him to see only silhouettes and the bright light of the electricity that had resulted in someone screaming. His younger shadows kept screaming at him to go. To drag himself to the Cauldron even if it was his corpse. He followed that call. He felt calm which was odd. Cassian’s wings were shredded. Tamlin turned out to be a traitor and Lucien was the middle sister's mate. Nesta was angry. Rhysand and Feyre risked losing each other. Mor had been frozen by her fear. And Az continued to crawl to the Cauldron. His older shadows had abandoned him already, moving to the Cauldron faster than he could.

All the light from across the world flowed into the Cauldron in strands and cords. Light of different colours. All the white and the gold and the red and the blue and the green and so many colours flowed in. And his shadows followed a song clearer than Azriel’s had ever been. He was too weak to rein them in and the shadows emerged with the new fae from the Cauldron. A wave of calm and peace washed over. So different from Nesta’s deathly presence. The shadows helped Nyra exit the Cauldron.

Just as she exited the Cauldron, it rose mid-air. The Cauldron tipped and the liquid from it fell on Nyra, bathing her in whatever essence it deigned to grant her. A while later, it stopped and settled back where it initially was. Nyra's eyes were closed and the shadows were carrying her out and they laid her next to the shadowsinger.

Azriel had never felt so at peace right then. With his shadows and with this female lying next to him. And soon, there was a faint tune. It became clearer and louder. An ancient song thrummed within him and the shadows led him to her. There was nothing more important, nothing more beautiful, nothing more stronger than this moment. Even with that hole in his chest from Jurian’s spear, he felt his heart fill to the brim with relief.

Azriel fell asleep, feeling peaceful at the sight of her. Nyra was drenched and unconscious but he was already fainting. He did not realise it when his hand had taken hers. And if he were to die then and there, he would die peacefully. Did not feel when Mor winnowed him back to Velaris and had started healing him. All he felt was his mate and their bond. He was home.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley

[feymaid]

Archeron girlies in love!!

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows Masterlist

Eris x Azriel'sSister!Reader

read on ao3

Summary: Y/N is the younger sister of Azriel. She has shadows just like him, and is also a spymaster for Rhys. When she meets Eris, she initially hates him, but after a bargain is made between them, things begin heating up. This takes place before Under the Mountain.

cw: canon typical violence, mentions of child abuse and domestic abuse, beron🤮, mentions of whipping, mentions of reader being groomed in past relationship(though she was an adult), overprotective batboys, mentions of rhys being assaulted utm, just tw for amarantha in general

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven

taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup

Eris Taglist:

Comment to be added to the Scorched Shadows or Eris taglists!

[lolalostinstardust]

Can someone help me? I’m looking for a fanfic that the reader is an Azriel x Archeron sister where she left her family to go fight or work or something.

And one day she turns up in Velaris and Azriel is taken by her and starts spreading his wings and Rhys and Cassian are laughing and I think Elain is a bit jealous?

Does anyone know what I’m talking about

[skyjasper]

Betray You Like A Man.

Azriel X Rhys sister oc (but Rhys Centric kinda?! Rhys and Az angst?)

Summary: HOFAS bonus chapter inspired. Azriel and his mate Y/N Moonbeam aka Rhysands little sister have been hiding for over 50 years. When her older brother finds out he is anything but happy.

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of SA, Yelling, lots and lots of Angst, quite Az.

Words: 1,382.

~~~

She and Azriel had been seeing each other secretly for over 50 years now. They had been through hell and back together, finding out about Rhysand under the mountain, Supporting her brother with his mate, fighting a damned war, and even finding out they were mates. Not once did either of them let on to their secret relationship, always passing each other with cold glances and curt words. The only form of kindness shown was on important occasions. But the minute they were alone, when they got back to their secret apartment, they were perfectly fine.

That was until Rhysand barged into Azriel’s apartment yelling something about Nesta telling Feyre something about their babe and found the two of them laying on the floor. Y/N reading and Azriel mulling over paperwork with a biscuit. In an instant, albeit a second too late, Azriel’s wing was covering her. Rhysands words fell away and he stood still, she could see him just barely through her mate's wing but she knew that her older brother could smell her.

“Azriel,” Rhysand growled out. With a knowing sight, Azriel released his wing that covered Y/N’s frame, not hiding her wings.

The moment Rhysands eyes found her matching violet ones he turned and walked out, slamming the door. She turned her head to her mate whose eyes were glazed over in silent conversation, she decided to listen to what Rhys had told him.

“Do we go? We should probably give him time to calm down shouldn’t we?” She asked, staring at Azriel’s golden eyes. He just nodded quietly.

Silently and with deathly calmness they gathered themselves and flew to the river house. She winced as they walked in the door, taking in the ruined vases and the loud shouting of her other brother and sister trying to calm Rhysand down.

“I DO NOT CARE. THAT IS MY SISTER.” He screamed at Cassian. She turned to Azriel, putting a hand on his chest to stop him,

“Maybe I should go in there alone.” She offered. And with a short nod he agreed, before she could walk away he grabbed her arm, and with a deadly voice he spoke,

“If he even thinks about yelling at you I will be in there. I will just be right outside.” Then he let go so she could enter the room. When she did she gasped at the sight of her older brother.

“Rhysand,” she spoke firmly, only slightly scared as his raging eyes turned on her.

“Is that bastard here?!” He spoke.

“It doesn’t matter, Rhysand.” She went to place her hand on his arm when he flinched away and stared at her with disgust.

“Don’t even get me started on you.” He raised his voice, tears springing to her eyes at his reaction. The pair of them had always been as thick as thieves, never staying mad, and definitely never yelling at each other like this.

In an instant, Azriel was behind her, hands on her waist to inform her he was behind her. Her brother didn’t even glance at the male behind her before continuing,

“I can’t believe you slept with my brother like some common whore.” He spat out like a slap in the face, he knew what she had been through, what she had done for him while he was under the mountain. A cry fell out of her mouth, his words inflicting more pain than any physical blow could.

Before she could say anything the entire room went still, the bottom half of the room covered in angry shadows. Before she could blink her mate had her brother around the throat against the wall.

“Be very careful how you talk about my mate,” Azriel growled, she could feel his anger festering through the bond. She sent a comforting phantom hand over his shoulder.

“Your mate?!” Rhysand laughed, “That’s hilarious brother, no one could ever love a bastard like you. We all know it, just admit it Azriel, you aren’t capable of loving a female.”

And then it was Y/N who was on top of her brother, facing him with a slap that resonated throughout the entire room. Not a single soul spoke as the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room. Not even Feyre said anything as her sister-in-law hit her mate.

“Fuck you Rhysand.” She yelled. “Fuck you for reacting like this! You are nothing but a cowardly piece of shit. You blame everyone else for everything that is your fault. Did you ever stop and think as to why we didn’t tell you?!” She yelled, Rhysands mouth opened to respond but she continued, “No Rhysand, you don’t get to speak. Maybe if for once in your godsforsaken life actually looked at anyone other than your mate you see that the people around you are going through shit! You would see the face that Elain is on the verge of breaking, that Nesta was going through something none of us could possibly imagine, that Cassian was coping and that I, your fucking sister, was traumatized. I get it Rhysand, what you went through under the mountain, trust me I get it, but it does not give you the right to treat everyone else like shit because they don’t react the same way you do to trauma. You do not get to sit here and act like my brother trying to defend my honor when you haven’t actually acted like a decent brother for the past 3 years!” She screamed in his face.

She gave him one more resounding slap before standing up and finding Azriels hands.

“Do not come find us brother, for I do not want to see your pitiful face.”

Then, hand in hand with her mate, they left. They both flew, flew for hours till they were at the cabin Azriel had built for his mother before she passed. When they arrived and got out of the cold she sunk to her knees, tears finally flowing.

Az’s rough hands came to hold her face, “Shh my love, he is not worthy of your tears.” He murmured into her hair. Instead of trying to calm her again he just let her cry, not once letting her go, instead instructing his shadows to gather water and blankets.

So she fell asleep crying in his arms over the hurt her brother had caused. And when she woke she found Azriel’s dark hair. She stared at him as her fingers twirled in the onyx strands.

“You know what he said wasn’t true right, you know how to love and you are worthy of it Azriel. You and I are the proof, this right here,” she gestured in between the two, lightly pulling on the golden ribbon that flowed between them. “This is the proof. I love you beyond words Azriel. I know you feel the same shadow singer.” She told him. Observing as his hands tightened around her waist. They had both suffered far too much to let the words of her cruel brother diminish all the progress they had made.

It wasn’t easy at the beginning, getting Azriel to open up and come to accept himself. It took him years to realize he was worthy of her love. That he wasn’t a broken bastard.

“I love you beyond the sun and the stars, I would travel worlds for you Azriel. And if the stars would vanish then I would voyage through the darkness with nothing but my bare hands to find you.” She whispered, “I would rip the wings off my back if yours were ruined because I know how much you need to fly. I would kill gods and kings alike to ensure you are safe. For as long as I am alive you will no longer be alone ever again, you will always be loved. I will always love every part of you.” She brought his scarred hands to her lips and kissed the skin on them. When she released his hands her lips found his mouth.

“There are not enough words in this world for me to express my love for you Y/N Moonbeam, So instead let me show you.” He spoke against her lips before moving his kiss down her neck.

And show her he did.

~~

Taglist:

@littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

[littlest-w01f]

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

All taglists here, comment in to be added

MAIN SERIES:

ERIS VANSERRA - Flames And Darkness (Eris Vanserra x OC)

RHYSAND - Blooming Flowers (Rhysand x OC)

NYX - Meeting in Grey (Nyx x OC)

Character Masterlists:

Rhysand Cassian

Azriel Eris

Lucien Helion

Tarquin Kallias

Thesan Tamlin

Feyre Nesta

Elain Mor

Music fics masterlist

Feyre Appreciation Week 2024

Starfall Week 2024

Poly Acotar Week 2024

Cassian Appreciation Week 2024

Acotar Omegaverse Week 2024

Rhysand Appreciation Week 2024

Elain Appreciation Week 2024

Eris Vanserra Appreciation Week 2024

Acotar Gift Exchange 2024

[yourlittlebunnyy]

a court of shadows and darkness

masterlist - previous chapter - next chapter

chapter three

summary: Selaene, Rhysand's sister, Azriel's mate runs away after the High Lord of Spring tries to kill her.

warnings: death

enjoy! <3

"Mother! Selaene! Father!" Rhysand's voice echoes through the mountains, but the Illyrian Steppes remain silent before his prayers. With his hands in his hair, his grip so tight it tears them apart, the male's knees give way, and at this point, he does not care who sees him. Sobs shake his entire body as he slumps to the ground, and he does not even feel the frozen snow soaking his clothes. He feels nothing but the pain of that loss. All he can do is think, after his family was killed, that it was all his fault. His sister had tried to call him, but he did not arrive in time, and now they are all dead. He opens his eyes just wide enough to look at the patch of his mother's blood mixed with Selaene's blood smearing the white snow. The sight is almost poetic. He will get his revenge, whoever was the bastard who killed two of the most important people in his life. And his father.

He hears footsteps behind him but he doesn't compose himself, not caring who might see the future High Lord of the Night Court in that state.

"Brother...," it's Cassian, he realizes. He lays a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"Get the fuck away." And as he has arrived, he leaves, silent. Around him, a gentle breeze caresses his face, the only uncovered part of him. It should be icy but tepid, as if it were a last goodbye, a last cuddle from his family before they leave forever. More sobs make his body shake. He takes off his gloves and slips his hands into the snow, the pain in his scalp fades and he immediately regrets it. But it's quickly replaced by the snow that is so cold it burns his palms. He deserves it, he thinks, he deserves it after failing to protect those he loves.

He stays there an indefinite time. His clothes are soaked and the sun is setting, now the air is so cold it freezes his bones, and Rhysand stands up shivering like a small child.

Before he leaves he makes a promise to himself. It doesn't matter how, only that no one he loves will ever die from his lack of attention again. He will never again fail in his task. With one last look at the blood-stained snow, an action he is not ready to do-but must, he leaves, leaving his mother, father, and sister for one last time. When he returns to the Wind House, he does not find Azriel. He enters and each step seems heavier than the last. He does not bother not to drag his wings, does not care about appearances. Even breathing becomes too strenuous. He finds Cassian sitting at the table, his cheeks streaked with tears. At the sight of his brother so grief-stricken Rhysand cannot hold them back himself. He sits at the table with him, the house so cold and empty without the laughter of the two females. He wonders if one day he will forget even the sound of their voices.

"Azriel?" he asks after what seems like infinity. The broken voice reaches Cassian's ears distantly. When he answers, his voice is a reflection of his brother's. "He... he's gone mad, Rhys."

A heavy silence fills the air with tension.

"I'm going to kill him, Cassian."

"I know, Rhys. I know. But Azriel may already be thinking about it."

Cassian looks at his brother in the eyes. His gaze dull, his eyes red and puffy. They make him look centuries older. The warrior believes that he himself is in the same condition as Rhysand. Selaene and her mother have also been his family, have been the only family.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No. He woke me up at dawn after he heard-he heard Selaene die from the bond. Goddamn, Rhysand." The brother's voice cracks so hard. They have never cried like this in the nearly seventy years they have known each other. Rhysand watches the Illyrian warrior, his brother, fall apart before him. Something in his gaze changes.

"Find Azriel. I'll take care of the bastard." At the change in his brother's tone, Cassian lifts his face in surprise. "Do you-do you know who-?"

"Who could it have been but Tamlin'." He points this out in a voice so distant that the warrior wonders how he can plan a murder under these conditions. "Brother, I don't think-"

"No, Cassian. Find Azriel and let me have my revenge."

The warrior can do nothing but nod. Before he goes, he takes one last look at his brother. The icy voice is not reflected in his expression, still heartbroken. When he is about to leave the room, he turns a small bow to him. Now, Rhysand is a High Lord.

"NO!", Azriel's screams wake Cassian. His brother did not scream, ever. Not even when he had nightmares, not even when he was being tortured did he ever scream.

He can do nothing but grab the dagger hidden under the mattress and run to his room. What he certainly did not expect was to see his brother kneeling, sobs wracking his entire body, hands clutching his chest at heart level. When he heard his brother enter the room and looked up, Azriel's eyes are of pure pain.

"Azriel... what's going on?" He approaches him and kneels before him, the dagger forgotten on the ground at the doorframe, two strong hands rest on his shoulders to give him support.

Azriel rises hastily, trembling knees not offering him too much stability causing him to stagger slightly. Cassian is worried-he has never seen his brother in such a condition.

"Selaene..." he manages to gasp and a pain expands in the warrior's chest. "Azriel. Speak, Selaene what? What has happened?"

"The bond. I don't... I can't hear it anymore, Cassian. It's empty." His brother's cracked voice shatters him.

"I-I thought you wanted to accept the bond."

"No, Cassian. I don't..." Azriel takes a short pause, a long breath, and Cassian has never been more agitated. If he is not suffering because he was rejected, what else could have happened that is so terrible? "I don't feel her anymore. She is..." But Azriel cannot finish the sentence. He can't. The sobbing that beats him is so violent that the warrior has to hold him up as the ShadowSinger cries on his shoulder. He himself cannot stop the tears. The situation is so surreal.

"Azriel." His voice is broken, like when he was a baby is crying in Rhysand's mother's arms. "I swear if this is a joke-"

" Fucking hell, Cassian. It's not a fucking joke." His brother's voice is so harsh that he feels guilty for even thinking it.

"I have to go." He suddenly breaks away from the comforting grip.

"Azriel, brother..."

But before he can even finish the sentence, Azriel disappears into his shadows.

463 years later

"I have never entered your room, Azriel. It is an honor." Feyre's voice and her little comment make Azriel smile slightly.

"I like to ... keep my own space." The Fae smiles at her words, and the Illyrian notices the female's gaze wandering around the room. Too much for his liking.

Her eyes land on a romantic book, one that Nesta has recommended to him and he is far too kind to tell her he will never read. The Fae picks it up and lifts it to show him, a feline smile breaks across her bright face. "Uh-huh. I didn't know the much-feared Spymaster read such impurities!"

An amused snort escapes his throat, but he doesn't respond further. He lets Feyre take a closer look at the room and comment on every single thing in it-not that he has many, fortunately. This is exactly why he does not like it when people enter his room.

As the young Fae continues to browse through his things, he heads to the real reason he brought Feyre to his room. The damned paperwork that his High lord desperately need for some reason.

"Fey. You're supposed to be looking for the reports, not the dirty books your sister lends me."

"Ah! But look at you going all defensive," she chuckles, and Azriel struggles to hide the smirk that lights up his face, "there's nothing wrong with wanting to read a little pepper every now and then." She laughs again after seeing the Shadowsinger roll his eyes.

"Oh...," Azriel pays no mind to whatever caught the Fae's attention, probably another piece of junk. "Az?"

"Yes?"

"Who-who is it?"

The Illyrian warrior's entire body stiffens at such words, somehow knowing full well what, who he is referring to.

"She is... it's gorgeous." The tone suggests to him that she is speaking more to herself than to him. But Selaene is still an open wound for him, and he is not ready to talk about it, and perhaps never will be.

After her death he simply ignored the pain, doing nothing about it. Rhysand became High Lord and he was made Spymaster, he begged his brother to send him on so many missions that he forgot about Selaene. Of course, he did not succeed. But at least he was busy and time made things better. But every time she is mentioned ... he still feels that unbearable emptiness in his chest, and it would hurt less if his heart was ripped out of his chest alive.

"Is that Rhys's sister?" Feyre's question brings him back to reality. He stares at her for a long time, and the Fae cannot help but notice the pain that flashes in his eyes, pain so fiery and burning. His eyes blur, as if inside his head he is replaying memories. When he does not respond, she speaks again.

"Rhys told me about her. But I didn't know you were related."

Azriel still does not answer, and Feyre realizes that he will probably never answer. She feels like a bad person for asking such intrusive questions, and feels the need to make up for it.

"I'm sorry, Az. I didn't mean to bring back bad memories."

Azriel wanted to yell at her, to get out, to not speak about her.

He wanted to scream that she was not a bad memory, but he could not. It had been decades since anyone had mentioned Selaene.

It had been decades since anyone had mentioned Selaene. Sure, above his bed there is a painting of her that he stares at every morning as soon as he wakes up and every night before he goes to sleep. Gods, there are days when he sits on his desk and stares at her for hours, unable to look away. But this is different. Someone talking about his dead mate in front of him is different. He is not ready to voice his thoughts, and perhaps never will be.

"Maybe ... maybe I should go. Don't... forget about the papers, I'm sure Rhysand doesn't need them that much."

Azriel watches her leave her room, and hates the look he receives. Compassion. The look he gets from his brothers whenever they see him alone at a ball, or the look he gets whenever a bond is mentioned.

He stares again at the painting of his beloved, and lets the memories he has of her calm his mind and the shadows obscure his vision, as if to put a wall between him and reality.

He wonders when was the last time he heard her voice, her laugh, her name on his lips. And when he tries to remember the sound of it, he can't. He has forgotten Selaene's laughter.

After almost a century of it not happening, Azriel lets tears flow freely down his face and sobs fill the room, careless of who might hear. The shadows themselves, who loved his female as much as he did, cry and call her name, as if at any moment, she might return. As if she simply went out on an errand.

He wonders how his brothers would look at him now, weeping for a lover lost almost five centuries ago. Who knows how much compassion he would find in their looks.

next chapter

[fxckmiup]

𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐎𝐂

♡ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | ♤ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 | ♞ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | ☆ 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 {𝟏𝟖+} | ♛ 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞 {𝟏𝟖+}

Chapters: {01 / ??}

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Arya Darling, The Princess of the Night Court. 

Arya Ashford, The chosen mother of the Archeron sisters. 

Both were created to be the Salvation of All.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

      » [ Nuvole Bianche ] «

     ⇄   ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹   ↻

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Chapters: {01 / ??}

Disclaimer & Trigger Warnings

Prythian & The Lands

Seven Courts & High Lords

The Inner Circle

The Archeron's

Playlist

Prologue

01 , 02 , 03 , 04 , 05 ...

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list :)

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

☾ 𝕐𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐫𝐞-𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝔸ℕ𝕐 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝕀 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝔸𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. ☽

Disclaimer: All characters and the storyline of the acotar characters belong to Sarah J Maas. My OC's (Arya and a few others) and their storyline/anything to do with her, belongs to me.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 3--------Part 4

Summary: her wings had vanished ever since that night with the horrors encountered with tamlins father, only a person she feels true desire and passion for can invoke those wings. What happens when the person who does that is non other than eris vanserra?

Note: what's up guys, hope all of you are enjoying this series so far. If you have any suggestions for the next few chapters.. dw my requests are open!!! So ask awayy. Also if you want to enter the taglist please comment and let me now xx

Warnings: slight smut, romance, mentions of kissing!, angst and mentions of blood

As you stepped out of your room, the familiar corridors of the House of Wind stretched out before you, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The events of the evening still weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you lost in thought as you made your way through the labyrinthine halls.

Lost in contemplation, you barely noticed the subtle shift in the air as you approached Amren's chambers. Her voice, sharp and commanding, pierced through your head, calling you to her side with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.

Curiosity piqued, you hastened your steps, your heart pounding in anticipation of what awaited you behind closed doors. With each passing moment, the weight of the unknown grew heavier upon your shoulders, filling you with a sense of apprehension mingled with a glimmer of hope.

As you reached Amren's door and stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted, enveloping you in a sense of solemnity and reverence. Amren's piercing gaze met yours, her eyes holding a depth of knowledge that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You have wings of great power," Amren stated bluntly, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Caught off guard by her revelation, you struggled to find words to respond. "Had, you mean. what are you talking about? " you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You still felt them in you but you thought it was your brain's method of coping with the trauma. To make you think they were still there

Amren rose from her seat, her movements graceful yet purposeful. "Your wings, they disappeared that night when Tamlin's father attempted to clip them, not because of their weakness, but because of their strength," she explained, her gaze never leaving yours.

Amren's expression remained impassive as she rose from her seat, her movements deliberate and measured. "Your wings are special, perhaps the most powerful I've encountered in our realm," she explained, her tone grave yet tinged with a hint of awe.

The weight of her words settled heavily upon you as you tried to make sense of their significance. "Special?" you echoed, seeking clarification.

Amren nodded slowly, her gaze never wavering from yours. "They have the ability to reveal themselves only when you experience extreme passion and desire for someone," she revealed, her voice tinged with reverence.

The revelation sent a shockwave through you, the implications of her words sinking in. "Passion and desire..." you murmured, your mind racing with thoughts of Eris and the inexplicable pull you felt towards him.

she continued, her tone steady yet filled with warning. "Such power comes with great responsibility and consequences."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling heavily upon your shoulders. "So they can be revealed at any moment, what should I do now?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Amren regarded you thoughtfully, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "Trust your instincts," she advised, her voice a mere whisper. "And be prepared for what may come."

With that, she returned to her seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of your wings and the connection they symbolized, you couldn't shake the feeling that your destiny was now inexorably intertwined with Eris, for better or for worse.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

Amren's revelation about your wings left you stunned. The idea that your wings could only return through the touch of someone you had extreme passion and desire for was both thrilling and terrifying. You kept replaying Amren's words in your mind, trying to process the implications.

Over the next few weeks, the rest of the inner circle learned about Amren's discovery. Rhysand was cautious, hoping the person who could invoke such passion and desire in you was not someone dangerous. He knew all too well that strong emotions could cloud judgment, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Then one evening, Rhysand invited Eris to dinner at the House of Wind to finalize an important agreement between the courts. The atmosphere was tense as everyone gathered in the grand dining hall. You chose a magnificently beautiful red dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. The fabric was a deep crimson, soft and luxurious, with a subtle sheen that caught the light just so. The neckline dipped low, hinting at the curves beneath, and the skirt flowed gracefully around your legs, pooling at your feet in a cascade of red.

You paired the dress with red lipstick, a bold shade that accentuated your lips and added to the allure of the ensemble. As you entered the dining hall, you could feel all eyes on you, but one pair of eyes, in particular, stood out.

Eris couldn't take his eyes off you the entire evening. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, as if he couldn't resist the allure you exuded in that dress. His eyes traced the curves of your body, lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulders and the dip of your neckline. Every movement you made seemed to captivate him, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

Azriel noticed, his sharp eyes picking up on Eris's fixation. Nesta leaned over and whispered in your ear, her voice teasing yet reassuring.

"He's eye-fucking you," Nesta murmured, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Relax, darling. Don't let it get to you."

You flushed at her bluntness but appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. Rhysand seemed engrossed in the negotiations, but Feyre's suspicious glances didn't escape your notice.

After dinner, you retired to your room, thinking Eris had left, but you were startled when he appeared in your chamber. The atmosphere crackled with tension as he moved closer, his eyes smoldering with desire. You were in your nightgown, feeling exposed yet strangely exhilarated.

"What are you doing here?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, a mixture of surprise and apprehension lacing your tone.

Eris regarded you with an inscrutable expression, his gaze piercing as he took a step closer. "I came to see you," he replied simply, his voice low and measured.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of unease at his response, your instincts urging you to tread carefully in his presence. "At this hour?" you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions raging within you.

He offered you a small, enigmatic smile, his eyes holding yours in a steady gaze. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to make sense of his words, the conflicting emotions swirling within you making it difficult to think clearly. "Eris..." you began, unsure of what to say next.

As Eris approached, the air seemed to sizzle with the heat of his presence. His gaze, filled with an intensity that bordered on infernal, seared into yours, sending a rush of heat coursing through your veins. You could feel the warmth emanating from his very being, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

Eris stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you with an intimacy that made your breath catch. "I needed to see you," he murmured, his voice husky. His fingers brushed your face, trailing down to your hair, the touch electrifying.

Your back was bare in your nightgown, and when his warm hands slid down to your shoulders, a shiver ran through you. "Eris," you breathed, but he silenced you with a look.

His hands were warm against your cool skin, the fire within him contrasting with your own tension. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

Before you could respond, his hands moved lower, caressing your back. The touch was intimate, setting your nerves on fire. When his fingers brushed the base of your spine.

And then, in that moment of exquisite intimacy, your wings unfurled, bathed in the golden glow of his fiery touch. Eris's eyes widened in astonishment, the flames of his own power flickering in the depths of his gaze.

"You have wings," he breathed, his voice a low rumble, tinged with a mixture of awe and fascination.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find words, the heat of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. But before you could respond, Eris leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Secrets like this..." he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "they only make you more irresistible."

You panicked, forcing him to keep quiet about what had just happened. "You can't tell anyone," you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what will you do for me if I keep your secret?" he asked, his tone teasing.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. "Name your price," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Eris leaned closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Oh, I'll think of something," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Just then Eris seemed to have winnowed away and before you could take in what just happened

Nesta entered the room, her eyes immediately fell upon your unfurled wings, their golden radiance filling the chamber with an otherworldly glow. Shock registered on her face as she took in the unexpected sight, her mouth opening to speak before she turned to you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"What just happened?" Nesta's voice was incredulous, her eyes darting between you and the now empty space where Eris had stood moments before.

You struggled to find words, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. "He... he saw my wings," you managed to stammer out, your voice betraying a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

As Nesta's gaze lingered on your wings, her expression shifted from shock to a thoughtful understanding. "Your wings... they only come when you truly desire someone," she mused, her voice carrying a note of realization.

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks at her astute observation. "I..." You struggled to find the words, unsure how to articulate the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

Nesta's eyes met yours, her gaze unwavering. "You desire Eris," she stated matter-of-factly, her words hanging in the air with a weight that left you breathless.

The truth of her statement hit you like a bolt of lightning, stirring a whirlwind of emotions deep within your chest. You couldn't deny the undeniable pull you felt towards Eris, the magnetic attraction that seemed to defy reason and logic.

"I..." Your voice faltered, unable to deny the truth of her words.

Nesta's expression softened, her hand reaching out to grasp yours in a gesture of support. "It's okay," she said gently, her voice filled with understanding

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at her acceptance. "I hope the rest feel the same about it"

She offered you a reassuring smile before turning to leave, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of what she had said, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just become infinitely more complicated, with Eris at the center of it all.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

The tension in the Night Court was palpable, and it seemed as though everyone was on edge after the recent events. You had barely settled into your room when there was a knock on the door. Before you could respond, Rhysand and Feyre entered, their faces a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Your heart raced as you instinctively turned to shield your golden wings from their view, but it was too late. Rhysand's eyes widened, and Feyre gasped, stepping closer.

"Your wings," Rhysand said, his voice low and urgent. "How did this happen?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "It's... complicated," you replied, avoiding their eyes.

Feyre stepped forward, her gaze soft but probing. "We need to know. This could change everything."

You hesitated, the memory of Eris's touch still fresh on your skin, his warmth lingering against your back. But you couldn't reveal his involvement. Not yet. "I don't know," you lied, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "It just... happened."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed, suspicion and worry battling for dominance in his expression. "Are you sure?" he pressed.

You nodded, keeping your voice steady. "Yes. I'm sure."

Feyre placed a gentle hand on your arm, her eyes filled with understanding. "If you remember anything, or if something else happens, please tell us. We're here for you."

You managed a weak smile, grateful for their support but burdened by the secret you were now carrying. "I will," you promised, hoping they couldn't see through your facade.

Rhysand, however, wasn't satisfied. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "There's more to this, isn't there? I can sense it. You need to trust us."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "I trust you, Rhys," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I genuinely don't know how it happened. One moment they were gone, and the next... they were back."

Rhysand's eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his stance remained. "I want to believe you," he said quietly. "But if there's anything you're not telling us, it could put everyone at risk."

Your chest tightened at his words, the pressure of the situation nearly overwhelming. "I understand," you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. "And I promise, if I figure anything out, you'll be the first to know."

Rhysand studied you for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. But remember, we're in this together. If you need anything, we're here."

Feyre squeezed your hand gently. "Take care of yourself. And don't be afraid to lean on us."

With that, they turned to leave, the door closing softly behind them. You let out a shaky breath, the burden of your secret pressing heavily on your shoulders.

-----------------------------♧---------------------------

As Eris stood with Lucien in the dimly lit study, the weight of his confession pressed heavily upon him. He couldn't keep it hidden any longer, not from his own brother, not when the truth gnawed at him every waking moment.

"Lucien," Eris began, his voice low and hesitant, "there's something I need to tell you."

Lucien's gaze met his, curiosity mingled with concern in his green eyes. "What is it, Eris?" he asked, his tone gentle yet expectant.

Eris took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "She's my mate," he confessed, the words heavy with significance.

In the depths of his mind, Eris was transported back to that fateful night—the night when he first laid eyes on her, and everything changed.

The grand hall was ablaze with light and music, a symphony of colors and sounds that seemed to dance around him as he entered. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the opulence of the event, until it landed on her.

She stood at the edge of the room, bathed in a halo of soft candlelight. Her violet eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief, drawing him in with their magnetic allure. They were eyes that seemed to see right through him, to the very core of his being. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a river of midnight, the soft waves catching the light and shimmering with an ethereal glow. It framed her face perfectly, highlighting the delicate angles of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips, painted a deep, inviting red.

She wore a gown of deep blue, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both elegant and provocative. The bodice was intricately designed, hugging her slender waist and accentuating the swell of her hips. A daring slit ran up one side, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her long, shapely legs with each step she took. The neckline dipped just low enough to hint at the soft curve of her breasts, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him mad.

Eris's breath caught in his throat as he watched her, every fiber of his being drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her beauty was a siren's call, a magnetic force that pulled him in despite the danger it represented. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the golden thrum of the bond that pulsed between them.

He could feel the heat of her presence from across the room, a tantalizing warmth that wrapped around him and refused to let go. His thoughts became a whirlwind of desire and need, an all-consuming fire that burned through his veins and set his soul alight.

As she moved through the crowd, their eyes met, and he felt the world narrow down to just the two of them. The noise and chaos of the party faded into the background, leaving only the intensity of her gaze and the electric connection that sizzled between them.

In that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to cross the distance between them, to take her in his arms and claim her as his own. He imagined the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of her lips as he kissed her with a passion that had been building since the moment he first saw her. He longed to bury his hands in her hair, to pull her close and feel her body pressed against his, every curve and contour fitting perfectly against him.

He could almost feel the silk of her dress beneath his fingers, the warmth of her breath on his skin as she leaned in closer. His mind raced with thoughts of what it would be like to explore every inch of her, to lose himself in the depths of her eyes and the heat of her touch. The bond thrummed between them, a golden thread that tied their fates together and set his soul on fire.

But before he could act on those desires, he felt his father's gaze upon him. Beron, ever observant, had seen the change in him, the shift in his demeanor that betrayed the truth.

Their eyes locked across the room, and in that instant, Eris knew that his father had sensed it too. The knowledge hung between them like a heavy shroud, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that bound them together.

And as Eris stood frozen in place, his father's knowing gaze bore into him, his expression unreadable yet filled with a silent warning. It was a warning that echoed in the depths of Eris's soul, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

But despite the fear and uncertainty that threatened to consume him, one thing remained clear: he would do whatever it took to protect her, his mate, from the darkness that loomed on the horizon. For she was his light, his salvation, and he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression mirroring the shock that coursed through Eris's veins. "Your mate?" he echoed, disbelief coloring his voice.

Eris nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've felt it—the golden thrum, the string in my heart—since the day of the reunion party," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucien's eyes widened in realization, comprehension dawning on his features. "That's why..." he trailed off, his thoughts racing as he connected the dots.

Eris nodded, relief flooding through him at having finally shared the truth with his brother. "I couldn't deny it any longer," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Lucien placed a reassuring hand on Eris's shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "It changes things," he acknowledged, his voice filled with understanding.

Eris sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him once more. "It feels like it can never happen," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "Rhysand is her brother, and she can never be disloyal to her family. She would never forgive herself."

Lucien's expression softened with empathy. "That's a difficult position," he agreed quietly. "Family ties run deep."

Eris nodded, his jaw tightening. "And it gets worse," he added, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Our father found out about the bond. He told me to use it to get information out of her."

Eris's mind drifted further back to a darker memory, one that had left a scar deeper than any physical wound. It was the night after the grand event, the night he realized the full extent of his father's cruelty.

He had returned to the Autumn Court, the golden thrumming bond still pulsing within him, a beacon of both hope and fear. But as he entered his father’s study, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Beron's eyes gleamed with a malevolent light, and the air was thick with tension.

"Sit down, Eris," Beron commanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. Eris obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew his father well enough to recognize the signs of impending violence.

Beron leaned forward, his eyes boring into Eris's. "I saw the way you looked at her," he hissed. "The way you reacted. She's your mate, isn't she?"

Eris didn't answer, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes gave him away. Beron’s lips curled into a predatory smile. "Good. This can be useful."

Eris's stomach churned with dread. "Useful how?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Beron stood and walked around the desk, his movements slow and deliberate. "You will use her," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Get close to her. Learn her secrets, her weaknesses. Bring that information to me. We will exploit her to undermine Rhysand and his Court."

Eris's blood ran cold. "I won't do it," he said through gritted teeth. "She's my mate. I won't betray her."

Beron's expression darkened. In a flash, he grabbed Eris by the collar and slammed him against the wall, a wickedly sharp knife appearing in his hand. He pressed the blade to Eris's throat, the cold metal biting into his skin.

"You don't have a choice," Beron snarled. "If you defy me, if you refuse to do as I command, I will make sure your mother suffers. I will hurt her in ways you cannot fathom."

Eris's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with fear and fury. His mother—his gentle, loving mother—was the only person who had ever shown him kindness in this pit of vipers. The thought of her in pain, suffering because of him, was unbearable.

Beron pressed the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "Do you understand me, Eris?" he demanded, his voice a venomous whisper.

Eris nodded, the movement barely perceptible. "I understand," he whispered back, his voice hollow with despair.

Beron released him, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "Good. Remember, Eris, you are a pawn in a much larger game. And you will play your part, or you will watch everything you care about burn."

As Eris watched his father turn away, the weight of his predicament settled heavily on his shoulders. He was trapped, bound by a cruel choice that tore at his very soul. To protect his mother, he would have to betray the woman who was his destined mate, the woman he was already falling for.

That night, as he lay in his bed, the golden thrum of the bond felt like a chain around his heart, a reminder of the impossible situation he was in. And in the darkness, he vowed to find a way to protect both his mother and his mate, no matter the cost

Lucien's eyes darkened with anger. "Beron," he spat, the name a curse on his lips. "That bastard."

Eris clenched his fists, a mixture of rage and helplessness roiling within him. "I can't do it," he said fiercely. "I won't use her like that. But if I refuse, he'll know something's wrong."

Lucien squeezed Eris's shoulder in affirmation, a silent promise passing between them. "We'll figure this out," he said firmly. "Together, but for now you need to stay away from her as much as you can, I know you feel extremely provocative but father is very brutal and if he touches her you wouldn't be able to do anything eris."

---------------------------♧-------------------------------

Later that night, Eris received a summons from his father, Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach as he made his way to his father's chambers, knowing that Beron's demands were rarely benign.

As he entered the dimly lit room, Beron's imposing figure loomed over him, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Eris," he greeted, his voice dripping with a deceptive warmth that made Eris's skin crawl.

"What do you need, Father?" Eris asked, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the unease gnawing at him.

Beron's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I want to know how your little mission is progressing," he said, his voice laced with thinly veiled menace.

Eris swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a convincing lie. "It's... progressing," he hedged, careful to keep his thoughts guarded.

Beron's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through Eris's defenses with unnerving precision. "Don't play games with me, Eris," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I want to know if you've made any progress with her. Have you gained her trust? Learned her secrets?"

Eris felt a surge of panic clawing at his chest. He couldn't let his father see the truth, couldn't let him know about the wings. This was the only thing he had left that were truly his own, and he would protect it at all costs.

"I'm working on it," Eris replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But these things take time. I can't rush it."

Beron's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "Time is a luxury we don't have, Eris," he snapped, his tone turning icy. "I need results, and I need them now."

Eris clenched his jaw, his mind racing for a way out of this impossible situation. He couldn't risk his father discovering the truth, couldn't bear to see the look of triumph in Beron's eyes when he realized the power that lay dormant within Eris's mate.

But despite his best efforts to hide it, Beron's High Lord power was too formidable to evade. With a surge of energy, Beron reached into Eris's mind, probing for the secrets he sought.

Eris fought against the intrusion, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of resistance. But despite his efforts, he couldn't keep Beron out completely. And in a horrifying moment of realization, he knew that his father had seen it—the memory of the golden wings, hidden away in the depths of his mind.

Beron's eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity, a hunger for power burning within them. "Well, well, well," he murmured, a twisted smile spreading across his lips. "It seems you've been holding out on me, Eris."

Eris's heart sank as he realized the magnitude of his mistake. He had inadvertently revealed his most closely guarded secret, and now his father would stop at nothing to claim what he desired.

Beron's gaze locked onto Eris's, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Those wings," he said, his voice filled with a dangerous excitement, "they are the key to everything. And now that I know they exist, I will stop at nothing to make them mine."

Fear clenched at Eris's heart as he watched his father, knowing that Beron's obsession with power knew no bounds. And as Beron's plans began to unfold, Eris knew that he would have to tread carefully if he hoped to protect both his mate and himself from the ruthless ambitions of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @sunny1616 @blackgirlmagicforever

[thewulf]

Hiyaaa loved your Az story. So freaking good. I had one in mind and wonder if you could write it? Maybe some deep Azriel and reader angst? I'm picturing a scene where Azriel, drowning under his duties and secrets snaps harshly at the reader, our newest healer at the Night Court when she gently suggests he talks about what’s weighing on him. His words sting, making her doubt her role at the court. Feeling terrible about his outburst after seeing reader cry or withdraw herself Azriel comes to apologize. It sparks a raw, revealing conversation. I’d love to see a fic that dives into their vulnerabilities, leading to genuine understanding and healing. Looking for a story that really gets into the messiness of forgiveness and the power of empathy. Would be amazing to see how you navigate this!

Stop it thank you so much. You know my speciality, hurt/comfort. Hella angsty but super sweet hahaha. I don't know why I love writing these so much but you got it anon! I can certainly get that done this week :)

[artethyst]

~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~ Pt.1

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister! Reader/OC

“Azriel we have been over this,” Rhysand brought a hand to his face, slim digits ghosting across his jaw in deep thought. “It is out of my hands- you are forbidden from telling her. Do you understand?”

“Even you cannot forbid me from such a thing,” he let out a dark chuckle is disbelief. “Tell me, High Lord, why is it that two of my brothers have found their mate- free to accept the bond, and it is I left alone- in the dark? As usual.” The Shadowsinger’s voice dripped with venom, an uncharacteristic snarl on his face as his primal instincts took over, having no outlet for such scathing carnal desires- having been barred from even spending time with his Mate.

“Azriel, you know it is not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“She is still coming to terms with what happened to her- her powers are still out of control-”

“Then let me help her!”

“That is Cassian’s job.”

The two men became silent as a soft rap on the door signified them of a presence- her presence, Azriel noted, her soothing scent of fresh lillies and the first rain of spring overwhelming him as her angelically golden head poked through the door nervously.

He felt his lips tug at the corner at the sight of her, Rhysand giving him a warning look at the almost unnoticeable gesture.

Azriel. The familiar voice was strained. Leave us.

“I…I apologise for interrupting,” came her gentle voice, twinkling blue eyes apologetic as Azriel was forced to tear his own away, the golden thread that only he could see taunting him in glittering ocean of her iris.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” came the Shadowsinger’s smooth reply, bowing in such a way Rhysand knew his infamous patience had been worn thin. “High Lord.”

~

Azriel had not ventured far, his shadows, uncharacteristically disobedient, willing him to stay close enough to her- his Mate in an onyx haze of longing he was beginning to suffocate under.

He watched Rhysand leave first, jaw ticking as the male rounded the corner, anticipating his sister-in-law to follow in tow, her gossamer gown and its iridescent scintillation billowing around her like a halo.

He heard her gasp as one of them curled itself around her pointed ear, cursing beneath his breath, only to hear her giggle- a liberating sound that might have exalted him from the depths of his own hell, an angelic noise that could have him repenting on his knees just to hear a single note of.

“Azzie…” she smiled up at him, as he remained still- as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t- he had. “Your shadows are loose again!”

Only for you- ever for you, he wanted to say, words turning to ash quicker than the breath was stolen from his lungs at the sight of her.

He wished he could ask Feyre to immortalise the moment as she stood- tendrils of him dancing across her unblemished skin, their dark illimitability neither scaring nor disgusting her as her rosy cheeks widened, their vaporous talons ardently skimming over her guiltlessness.

“S-Sorry,” was all that came out, low and stuttered, his bronzed countenance flushing at his own weakness- thanking the mother Cassian was not around to tease him for it.

“Do you think they like me?” She teased, unaware of the true weight of her words, “they never seem to latch on to anyone else…” She trailed off as he called them back, unable to stomach the sight of her- so close and yet so far from him, in such a cruel display of fate.

“It is hard for anything not to.” He mused gently, not missing the way her rosebud lips parted, the saccharine scent of her own innate longing drifting up to him in taunting waves of arousal.

“Azriel-” She had not used his name- called him that for such a long time, her fair face falling as he stormed away, wondering what she had done- had said for him to treat her so callously.

Her hand was splayed out in a fruitless attempt to stop him from abandoning her and prevent him from vanishing entirely- a frustrating habit he adopted had as of recent, baring its ugly, wilted head whenever their conversations has begun to blossom beyond anything other than formality.

In the few years she had known him he had never acted in such a way, making her slowly retreat back into the self-loathing girl he had once culled from her self inflicted cage. His own heart lurched as he felt her through the unclaimed bond- suffering, again, because of him.

He had been the one to make her feel like she was home- that he might have even been it. Yet the retreating coils of his own darkness reminded her that he could never love her.

That she would never be enough for a man such as he.

And as her soul cried for him in a manner she had yet to recognise, his own howled back in a melancholic crescendo as he cursed the Mother for always deafening his heart’s symphony.

[divinemare]

Legend of a Mortal Love

┊ ➶ rhys x oc

┊ ➶ part seven

part six

Ariadne had learned long ago that dreams didn’t last forever. But leaving Velaris, it was a different kind of sadness, of disappointment. She had immersed herself in a dangerous bubble of joy and normality, and now that it was all over, her reality made her fall twice as hard.

“I don’t want to do this,” Rhiannon whispered in a sob, the chains that should’ve been with her this whole time now in the female’s shaky hands.

Ariadne smiled sadly, trying hard not to let the tears fall down her own checks. It was enough with all of the ones Rhiannon and Morrigan were spilling already.

“It’s ok,” she whispered, only managing to make her voice stable that way.

Rhiannon raised her violet gaze to her, guilt and shame turning off the usual glow in the Night Court’s daughter’ eyes.

“No, no it is not,” she shook her head, shamefully lowering it to squeeze the chains so hard her knuckles turned white.

A big hand came to rest on top of the female’s small one, Rhiannon did not look up as she sobbed and let Rhysand take the chains from her. Ariadne shifted her gaze from her crying friend to the Heir’s hard expression.

Rhysand did not let a single emotion show in his face, while he gently asked for her hand.

Ariadne did not let the tears fall, did not let her head and gaze falter as she extended both her wrists to the male.

Slowly, very painfully slowly, Rhysand put on the chains on her wrists, slowly brushing the still healing skin with his calloused fingers.

A weight so big it almost broke her heart completely sank into her as soon as she heard the click of the chains closing. Yet she still didn’t looked away from Rhysand’s violet eyes. Not until Morrigan’s arms wrapped around her, almost knocking her off if it weren’t for Rhiannon’s arms that joined the hug soon after.

Both females clang to her tightly, while she could only stand there and pray all this to be over soon.

When they finally parted, Cassian came near to give her a little pat in the shoulder.

“Until next time, little bird. Don’t stop singing, I can’t wait to hear what you come up with next,” despite the tense feelings the big Illyrian male was letting out, he managed to wink an eye at her and smiled sweetly, making Ariadne smile too and nodding her head in only response.

“Do you have it with you?” Azriel asked in a low voice when he stepped over where Cassian had been.

“Yes,” Ariadne nodded again, and the male nodded back.

“Good luck, Ariadne.”

She smiled at him with gratefulness, and at last, not standing a second more inside of that house without the possibility of breaking in tears, alongside Rhysand and Rhiannon, she excited the townhouse, saying her final goodbyes not only to the people she now would never be able to get out of her head, but to the city that would haunt her dreams like a cruel reminder of the life that couldn’t possibly be hers.

༺ ♡ ༻

The melody of her lost dreams drummed in her head as she stared at the infinite night sky of the Court of Nightmares. It was the same sky that she had stared at every night in Velaris, yet it felt so painfully different that it left an aching feeling in her chest.

“Ariadne, not again, please, get back to work!” She was snapped out of her daydreaming by Tara’s whispered voice.

“Yes, sorry,” stepping away from the window, Ariadne had no other choice but to follow her friend’s orders, knowing very well that if they didn’t finished their work, it would be her fault.

Ever since she came back, it had become difficult to follow the rhythm of her life. As if she hadn’t been living it for the past 19 years.

At end of the day they hadn’t reached their mark, so it meant they wouldn’t get their ration of food. Ariadne told Tara to go to at least get some rest while she picked up everything, and while she worked alone, she had the time and space to mumble all the melodies in her head without anyone interrupting.

“I thought working hours were over,” well, almost anyone.

This time, unlike every other time, Ariadne did not jump in surprise at the velvet silky voice behind her, nor was she surprised to find the winged male once she turned around.

“It is, I just didn’t finished the mark today and so I have nothing to rush for, so I’m picking everything up while Tara went to sleep,” she explained absentmindedly without looking up at him from her work.

“The mark?” Rhysand asked with curiosity.

Right. Of course he did not knew what happened in his own Court.

“You don’t finish the mark of the day, you don’t get your night ration of food, so, here I am,” the girl sighed, and straightened her back with a soft moan when her muscles ached.

“You haven’t eaten anything since lunch?”

“Well, they didn’t serve appetizers after lunch break, so no, I haven’t.”

Normally, Rhysand would bite the inside of his mouth to stop the smile on his face at one of her impertinent comments, yet this time there was no hint of amusement in his violet eyes when Ariadne turned to look at him surprised with all the silence, something much more darker lurked in them this time.

Uncomfortable with the new tense silence, Ariadne picked up everything she had gathered from the floor and took a deep breath, anxious for getting out of there as fast as she could.

“Well, if you excuse me, I’m dead tired, I’ll go leave this and-”

“Come with me to Illyria,” he interrupted her so abruptly Ariadne had no chance to get a grasp on his words.

She was speechless for a moment, surely she had to have heard incorrectly because there was no way he had…

“What?” She questioned the male, still stunned.

“Come with me to Illyria, Ariadne, you’ll stay with me. Then we could go back to Velaris, you would be working for me and not my father.”

A sudden rush of uncontrollable anger rushed through the tip of her toes to the tip of her head. She had received tons of improper proposals from High Fae males over the years, some taken without her consideration anyway, but this… it had to be the most shameful one so far.

The equipment in her hands fell to the floor with a loud thud, and despite the heaviness in her chains, she approached Rhysand with an accusing finger pointed at him.

“Listen, you may be the High Lord’s son, Rhysand, and I may be just a slave, but what makes you think you have the right to use me like that? What makes all of you High Fae think you have the right?!”

The male took a little step back with a face so full of confusion Ariadne almost believed him.

“Ariadne, I don’t know-”

“I’m not a toy, Rhysand, I will not be your toy!” With tears burning in her eyes, she waited for the struck, the cruel words, the promises of execution, because this time she had surely, most certainly, stepped over the line as a slave.

But none of those came.

Ariadne stared at the male with her chest falling and rising with so much force it was beginning to hurt. The tears she refused to spill burned her eyes to the point she had to shut them close for a second to send them away. Then she observed with a heavy heart how Rhysand’s face did not twist in anger but in shameful realization.

“Ariadne, I-” he tried to give a step closer to her, but she immediately gave one back.

Rhysand sighed, his head dropped down for a moment and his usually lightened up eyes were so dark they almost turned black. When he looked up at her again, a softness that shook Ariadne’s heart without explanation surprised her.

“I never had the intention to… use you, Ariadne. Not once did it even crossed my head. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, I truly, deeply am. My proposal was not for you to be my mistress in any way, I just… I wanted to do something right, Ariadne, for once in my life, I wanted to do something right.”

She was out of words, so stunned she had to remind herself more than once to breath. Now she couldn’t take her eyes off of Rhysand’s, trying to look for something that told her that he was not being truthful, but she found nothing; on the contrary, only genuine shame tainted the beautiful eyes.

It made her feel weird, like the night in the balcony of the townhouse, or the night in the opera as well. Feelings she still couldn’t recognize flooded her chest with a pressure that was avoiding air to come in.

“Just… think about it, would you? I want you to come with me because you trust me, not because you feel obligated to.”

Ariadne didn’t had the words to answer to that, so she simply stared at the male with a stunned expression.

Rhysand, after minutes in silence, sighed and lowered his head once again. When he looked back at her, his eyes were so off that it made her want to give a step closer to him to see if that way she could catch one of the tiny stars she always saw dancing in his violet gaze. But her feet stayed planted in her place, unable to move, her mouth unable to pronounce words.

He nodded then, putting his hands in the pockets of his black pants and tucking his wings tightly behind him, a movement Ariadne had noticed when he was upset or uncertain, and walked away from her without saying anything else.

She stood there for a moment longer, weighing every single word that had been said in her mind with both a racing and a troubled heart.

༺ ♡ ༻

She hadn’t had a minute of sleep last night, her head spun all night not leaving her alone for one second. Her conversation with Rhysand replaying over and over again on her mind.

How did he do it? She asked herself at least a million times. How did he managed to make her lose her balance, to surprisingly trip on everything he did and said every single time?

She stoped looking for an answer to that question once it was obvious she was getting closer to sunrise without rest than to understanding Rhysand’s mind.

But the thing that scared her the most wasn’t how much space the male took in her head, or the fact that her chest hadn’t stoped pressing her heart with enough force she had to take deep breaths. But the fact she was actually considering his offer, and worse, than a little hidden-under-lock part of her wanted to actually trust him.

Sleep deprivation must have been fucking with her head, because when she woke up, Rhysand and his proposal was everything she could think of the entire day.

She couldn’t even concentrate in her tasks, Rhiannon had noticed it immediately when they were together in the kitchen for their “secret tea spilling session”, or so the female liked to call it.

Rhiannon had asked her what was on her mind, and Ariadne had expertly lied saying she was wondering what Rita had thought about the songs Cassian had delivered for her. Rhiannon had easily bought it, and promised she would soon visit Rita to ask her personally.

Later on that day, and by a miracle achieved with a little cheating help from Rhiannon’s powers, Ariadne finished the mark of the day, and was able to eat the insipid dinner they allowed her to eat.

Sitting at the tired, drained circle of human slaves that had been lucky enough to eat that night, Ariadne was even more attentive than ever.

Despite their horrible, meaningless lives, there were whom mastered smiles to try and keep up the rest of the group’s spirits, others whose eyes were no longer alive, and who seemed rather an empty vessel than a living being. Ariadne wondered just how many time it would take her to become that way.

Then she looked at Tara, eating right beside her. The girl would never admit it, but some nights, Ariadne could hear her praying to the Mother, crying the few tears she still had left, showing anything but the rigorous seriousness she always wore with flawless pretend.

Would Ariadne be able to leave her here? They had been together since both were captured by the High Fae and brought to the Night Court as slaves, could Ariadne leave that last part of her past live behind her?

Ariadne didn’t thought she had the courage.

“Something has been troubling you, more than usual,” Tara’s soft voice spoke slightly beside her, for only Ariadne to listen.

“It’s nothing,” the brown-haired girl shook her head and looked down at her unfinished meal, the cheese and hard-stone bread staring back at her with mocking reminder of the delicious meals she’d had a taste of in Velaris.

“I’m not stupid, Ari, I know you might think I don’t notice your meetings with Lady Rhiannon in the kitchen, or worse, how the Heir always seems to appear right where you are. Or the way you’ve changed since you left the Palace with them. What happened there? Where did you even go?”

Ariadne’s mouth dried and her gut twisted at her friend’s words. She did not answer for a really long time, didn’t even look up at Tara’s eyes because she knew very well that if she did so, Tara would read the truth from her eyes.

“I see something in your eyes every time you look at him, you know?” At those words, Ariadne did look up to the red-head, confusion lacing her face.

“What do you mean?”

“Ariadne, if you don’t accept his offer, you’ll regret it. You’ll drown here, vanish to an empty void where all those dreams that keep you always staring at the stars will be lost forever.”

Ariadne’s heart raced at an unsteady pace, her throat dried again, and she had to swallow two times to get herself to speak.

“How did you-“

“Don’t let them drown you,” but Tara did not let her finish her sentence as she stood up and walked away towards the sleeping area.

Leaving Ariadne’s head spinning with something both similar to dread and hope.

༺ ♡ ༻

Three weeks had passed since her conversation with both Tara and Rhysand. The male had gone to Illyria right after, in the company of his sister and mother. So Ariadne had had time both to miss Rhiannon, and to think throughly about the Night Court’s heir proposal.

Already neck deep in work, Ariadne tried to concentrate all her energy in her tasks, if only to make her friend’s words —and Rhysand’s—, leave her alone for a moment.

“If a male, said, invited you to spend some time at Rita’s even though he had never ever done something like that before, what would you think?” Rhiannon’s voice sounded behind her, entering the kitchen.

Ariadne could not hold back the little smile at the female’s voice, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, and it felt good to have the only good thing in this palace for her back.

“So, Azriel finally mastered up the courage huh,” she smiled sideways to the violet eyed female, watching from the corner of her eyes how a pink flush tinted her tanned cheeks.

“Well, I don’t know, considering Cassian and Mor will be there too, and when Rhys finds out he’ll get all dramatic and say we didn’t invite and come either way, I… oh Mother, if Rhys goes, Azriel will never do anything,” the female sat at the kitchen’s table and dropped her head in her hands.

Ariadne let out a soft laugh, she had never seen someone so smitten over someone else as Rhiannon was over Azriel, and well, Ariadne couldn’t really blame her, Azriel was not only impossibly gorgeous, but with the kindness he had shown Ariadne when they met… she couldn’t help but be rooting all the way for them.

“Relax, everything will be alright, I’m sure he’s just working up his courage little by little.”

“I really fucking hope the Mother hears you.”

Ariadne laughed again and turned around with a little shake of her head while finishing the cleaning she had been doing, but when a male voice entered the kitchen, she almost hit her head with the counter on top of it.

“I knew you’d be here, snatching sweets from Pan again?” Rhysand’s amused, velvet voice rang in her ears and traveled all the way to her stomach, making her have to inhale deeper for air.

He didn’t notice she was there, she thought, since he had yet to make any comments in her direction, so she ever so slowly turned to look at the siblings, only to find out Rhysand had already spotted her and, in fact, was looking straight at her.

He only gave her a soft smile, and that was it.

“Mum’s been looking for you,” snatching the sweet Rhiannon was about to get on her mouth and eating it himself, Rhysand gained a dark look from his sister and a pinch on the arm.

The female stood up with the grace of a princess and, before leaving the kitchen, turned back to look at Ariadne to say her goodbyes with a wink and a smile. Adiadne did the same, and when Rhiannon was gone, only Rhysand and her remained looking at each other, with the sounds of the rest of the kitchen staff seeming to stay behind as they did not looked away.

“You’re back,” she managed to say, standing off the floor and wiping off her skirt, as if that would do anything to help the dirt that completely covered it.

“Only to accompany Rhi and my mother, I’ll be back to Illyria tomorrow.”

“Oh, tomorrow?…” She had breathed the question rather than spoke it, Rhysand only nodded in confirmation, putting his hands on the pockets of his pants and… tucking in his wings.

Silence settled over them either a strange feeling, Ariadne wanted to get the words off her mouth, but her lips seemed to be under a spell of utter uselessness.

“I have to go look into some affairs before parting, I’ll leave you to your work,” with a heavy sigh, as if he too had been holding his breath, Rhysand stumbled momentarily over his own steps while turning around, but tried to act as if nothing had happened to rush out of the kitchen door.

“Rhys!…and,” Ariadne called behind him, and he turned around so quickly when he heard his nickname he again almost stumbled.

But as soon as Ariadne tried to repair her slip adding the final letters of his name, she could almost swear she saw something like disappointment flicker in his violet gaze.

“I…” Now, with his striking eyes looking at her again, she had fallen silent once more.

“If you don’t accept his offer, you’ll regret it. You’ll drown here, vanish to an empty void where all those dreams that keep you always staring at the stars will be lost forever.”

Tara’s words replayed in her mind, like they had done for the last three weeks.

What else did she had, if not for dead parents and a missing, surely dead brother. There was nothing left for her there, if there had ever been something to begin with. Just then did she realized the terrifying truth of Tara’s words; slowly, that place was drowning her, as it had with every human life that had been unfortunate enough to end up there. Her dreams, everything her father had taught her, fought for, and died for, everything would eventually be lost in the sea of darkness that would sooner or later swallow her up.

So, if her fate was already so evidently clear, what could she lose?

“Okay,” was everything she could bring herself to say with a small nod, and prayed her eyes could communicate what she wanted to Rhysand.
The male read it loud and clear, and, if Ariadne’s eyes did not fooled her, sucked in a breath of almost relieve. He was fighting back a smile, and had to shift the weight of his body in his legs to keep from moving too much.

“Okay,” he answered with another nod, and both said nothing after, only stared at each other with that intensity only they seemed to share.

And in those star-filled eyes, Ariadne could’ve sworn she had just sealed her fate.

[feymaid]

The Archeron sisters 🥀