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hunnyrants · 6 days

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A/N welcome to part 2 thats been written for like 4 months but was forgotten about entirely 🤠 oops? not proofread, we die like men.

Pairing: Azriel X Cadre!Reader

Summary: After a few days in the night court with your mate, you have nightmares triggered by the unfamiliar environment.

Warnings: PTSD, trauma induced nightmares, mentions of dying, mental torture, dissociation, angst, fear of the dark

Nightmare Pt. 2

Azriel's hands were trembling. Cassian noticed them immediately after he broke down the massive oak doors. Alarm had filled him once the house's lights began flickering as he was readying for bed and the doors threw open on their own. Even more so when he'd run in and seen you unconscious and clutched protectively in his arms as if you might slip away from him at any second. The room was trashed as well, but even that seemed secondary when the scent of his highlord was fresh in the room and nowhere to be seen.

Cassian opened his mouth to ask for Rhys’ whereabouts, when the muted sound of retching filled the room- Azriel curled tighter around you at the sound. Cass turns towards the set of doors leading to your closet and bathing room, striding towards them immediately before knocking furiously.

“Rhys?”

A beat of silence.

“A minute, please.”

Taken aback slightly by the curt response, Cassian turns back towards Azriel who has his nose and mouth pressed against the side of his mate's head. His wings curled around the two of you as a barrier but low enough that he can still see over them and into the room beyond. The incessant ticking of the clock on the mantel seemed to be a hammer taken to a coffin, Cass had counted up to nearly a hundred before Rhys finally stepped out of the washroom.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but glanced at Azriel who had yet to make note of his entrance into the room.

“I felt her blood oath,” was all that came out.

“To the fire breathing bitch queen? That must've been rough,” Cass says, an attempt at brightening the mood. Stars guttered in Rhys’ eyes though.

“Yes, but there was an older one,” he shakes his head and drags a hand over his mouth. Cassian helps himself to the small bar near the fireplace of your rooms and pours Rhys a finger's worth of whiskey. He pauses for a moment, glancing at Azriel. Would he even notice if there was a drink put in front of him?

Likely not, not with the slight tremors that even the feared shadowsinger couldn't hide. And definitely not with the glare he's leveling at Rhys.

“It… fuck,” Rhys presses the heels of his palms against his eye sockets and pushes deeply, causing spots to appear across his vision that nearly blend in with the frantic shadows that are swarming around the unconscious female.

Cassian pours Azriel a drink finally and sets it on the nightstand before handing Rhys his. Rhys sets it down without drinking it and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“It was just an echo of what was once there. But it ran deep.” Rhys takes a deep breath, ”Her old master was daemati, and wielded shadows as well.”

A low growl comes from deep in Az's chest in response, making Cass raise his brows and his brother droop more somehow. A roaring begins in his head as he contemplates what could have been so bad to have Rhys this rattled, he hasn't been like this since Nesta had her own nightmares a year prior.

Cassian was very glad then that Nesta had listened and stayed behind in their shared room.

“She was the queen's right hand, had the blood oath and her own mind used against her,” he pauses again and seems to brace himself. Rhysand raises his head and catches his brother's eye.

“Azriel is going to react badly.” the highlord's voice ringing clearly through the general's head. A subtle order and one not easily given. Cassian widens his stance and braces himself for the storm.

“She was enslaved for over 500 years-” he says finally, “-I reminded her of it enough that it triggered flashbacks.”

The room dropped several degrees as Azriel's shaking worsened and his grip shifted against you. A scarred hand sliding into your hair and tucking your head against the side of his neck, all while his eyes appeared to freeze over as he stared daggers at his highlord.

Cauldron and Mother above, the silence was unbearable.

Rhys put his hands up in a placating gesture, “Az-”

“No.” Helfrost seemed to coat the word as it left the shadowsinger's mouth.

“Not one more word Rhysand.”

The highlord of the night court winced. At the use of his full name and the fact it was his own brother who used it against him.

“Az, it's not like he did it on purpose,” Cassian attempted. “We didn't know. None of us could have.”

A humorless laugh left Azriel then.

“And yet Rhys saw fit to push so hard into her mind she couldn't even tell me herself.”

A pit formed in Cassian's stomach then, he hadn't considered that would have crossed his brother's mind.

“Because my magic is- was similar to the queens, her mind caved in easier than I expected.” Rhysand continues with a wave towards his face, “My physical attributes were another trigger. Black hair and even similar eye color, I think it was made worse when she saw me after her nightmare.”

“It was all bad.” He finishes, keeping his eyes on the male who looked torn between leaping across the room and throttling him and clutching the warrior in his arms.

Cassian moves to sit opposite Rhys in the plush forest green armchairs of your room. Angling himself to leap between the males if necessary.

“Where is Nesta?” Azriel breathes finally, his thumb brushing against the nape of your neck as his fingers gently scratch at your scalp. As if the soothing gesture might fix everything happening right now.

Cass stiffens and can't help his own instincts to protect his mate. “Waiting for me- did- do you want her here?”

Azriel closes his eyes and nods.

“She'll be safer with Nesta than anyone else here currently.”

“They will make for quite the duo,” Rhys says, the darkness in his eyes seeming to spread further. Azriel's lips pull back in a silent snarl when Cassian stands and claps Az on the shoulder, careful not to jostle him.

“Welcome to the ‘my mate has scary powers club’, brother,” Cass grins.

Rhysand heaves a long, suffering sigh as his eyes grow distant, contacting Nesta mind to mind rather than sending Cassian. Just in case Azriel decided he wanted to avenge any pain his mate was put in.

It took no more than a couple heartbeats to pass before Nesta shoves through the splintered door, her night slippers crunching against the pieces. Her silver eyes surveyed the trashed room quickly and ataraxia pulses gently with light in her hand.

Azriel cradling you against his chest with your legs strewn over his lap, perched on the side of the large bed built to accommodate wings and the dark teal bedding strewn about haphazardly. Nesta assessed her mate for injuries but quickly dismissed him as fine when she noticed the dark energy seemingly radiating off of Rhysand.

“Is the commander alright?” She asks finally, her quicksilver eyes catching hazel ones.

“Will you watch her for me?” Azriel dodges coldly but not unkindly.

Nesta nods and strides towards the bed where Azriel hesitates to part from the female despite his request. Eventually he does adjust you so you're laying properly on the bed and Nesta settles on the other side after setting her blade against the side of the bed. Nesta turns towards you then, brushing a lock of hair from your relaxed face and settles a cold soothing hand against your hot to the touch shoulder.

It was that movement alone that reassured Azriel enough to stand finally, his knees popping after being curled uncomfortably for too long.

“Tell me everything Rhysand, or I'm going to fucking lose it.”

Even Nesta looked at the highlord with pity as the words finished sounding, realizing they were all in for a long night.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x cadre!reader #azriel x reader #fanfic #azriel angst #azriel acotar #queen maeve #aelin x cadre!reader #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #cadre!reader #tog x acotar #tog x reader #acotar x reader #drabble #rhysand x reader #nesta x reader

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ellievickstar · 1 year

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Deserving

Summary: You are left empty and alone by your mate, are you really so undeserving of love? Or is it that you have waited for the same person for too long?

Request: N/A

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Self-harm, mentions of alcoholism, so much angst.

~*~*~*~*~

It had been days since you last saw Azriel.

Days of waking up late and going to bed later. Your correspondence between the inner circle were limited and you slipped into a period of complete and total isolation. Maybe it was all too much, maybe it wasn’t enough. But you curled into a ball on your bed everyday, the same scene ringing in your head, over and over and over again, as if it were on a loop.

When was the last time you had actually spoken to anyone else?

That thought was quickly relinquished as a soft but firm knock was against the door. You knew that knock. Groaning you approached the door of your apartment, one that you barely lived in but owned anyways in cases like these. Only four people knew about this place. Azriel, Rhysand, Cassian and…..

“Mor, I wasn’t expecting you,” You masked the numbness from the past few days with a smile. “Cut the bullshit Y/N, you know better than to try and pretend with me,” Your friend deadpanned as she swept past you into your living space. Rolling your eyes, you closed the door behind her as you slid to the floor, drearily groaning.

“How do you know?” You asked carefully, making sure that your voice didn’t crack as you felt the waterworks rise up again. You were more that surprised that your eyes hadn’t dried out by now, considering the fact that you had cried non stop during the first day of your pity party. Mor softened slightly, she had set to picking up the various pieces of trash scattered around the apartment, and she paused, her back facing towards you as if she could. not bear to relieve the news.

“They announced it just now, during dinner. Azriel and Elain are officially together,” Smirking, you shook your head, but tears rolled down your cheeks as you choked out another sob. “I take it Lucien didn’t take it well,” Mor snorted at that

You hadn’t drank, not a sip. You had already gone three years sober after you had turned to alcohol because of what you had gone through under the mountain, how you had followed Amarantha’s orders to be used by the males as she pleased. Shuddering at the memory, you lay down on your side on the floor next to the door.

“I’m proud of you, for not…going back to it,” Mor offered. However, you just closed your eyes. It wouldn’t have mattered if you had gone back to alcoholism and self harm again, you knew you could resist the pull for now, but if you had given into the pain a part of you was more terrified you would not be able to get out of the habit once you spiraled.

Eventually, Mor helped you up, she asked you if you wanted to go to the House of Wind so she could monitor you better and Rhys could help with coping with the ache, but you declined. You could not let Azriel see you like this, especially when he would feel so guilty for….choosing Elain. Memories flooded back as you recalled what had happened.

You had finally found the courage to tell Azriel, your best friend, that he was your mate. And when you did he had looked at you in the eyes and said that he could not handle a mating bond at that moment. You understood, of course, that he may need space, but it was not until later that you caught him. You had caught him kissing Elain.

And yet, you had not rejected the bond yet.

Feeling down to that part of your soul, you grasped that line of the bond that felt like there had been a veil placed over it. It was as if the bond had sensed that you were slowly giving up. Perhaps it was a blessing that Mor came to confirm the news, perhaps it was a blessing that the bond had seemed to dull in the past few days.

But even as Mor asked if there was anything you’d like to tell her, you could not bring yourself to tell your friend of the ache on your abdomen, the scars that you had inflicted on yourself, you couldn’t bring yourself to show her the slashes and marks you had sliced across your skin in various areas, as if punishment for being so unworthy that your own mate would prefer another female over you.

~*~*~*~*~

Another five days passed before you finally dragged yourself to a family dinner. You made sure to a loose blouse that was long sleeved paired with a long flown skirt that you could twirl in to dance should Mor decide it was a good time to take you outside dancing.

Silence seemed to settle over the table as you entered, you smiled as you approached Cassian, he smiled at you as he motioned for you to sit on his left while Nesta sat on his right. Thankfully, Mor sat on your other side while Azriel sat diagonally across the table, out of your view if you tried hard enough. Sweet Elain was beside him as she whispered and he smiled. You wanted to physically gag seeing your mate like that with another, but you shut down the feeling immediately, ensuring to make a shield tailored around the bond so that he would not be able to feel a single thing from you this evening.

You smiled at Feyre as you caught up about any recent books you both had read, Nesta joining into the conversation occasionally, once you kicked Cassian when he laughed about how it was not romance books but just two people screwing each other and breaking up and screwing each other again. Nesta also kicked him, hard.

Rhysand cleared his throat as he spoke to you, grabbing your attention. “So, Y/N how has it been? You’ve been gone for a while, and when was the last time i saw you in long sleeves?” A flicker of understanding suddenly shone in his eyes as he realised. Cassian seemed to pause as he shot a look at you. Indeed, the outfit you wore was far more conservative than anything you had worn in the last year. The only time you had worn such modest clothing was…..

“Y/N, show me your arms,” Cassian said softly. You stopped as you looked up at him, looked around at the table as all of them watched your expectantly. Mor looked like she was in near tears and Elain and Nesta seemed to be unsure what was going on. Feyre looked like she was being filled in on what was happening as she glanced between Rhysand and you. Shaking your head you stood up, ready to walk away.

“As your High Lord, I order you to stop. As your friend, I’m telling you to trust us,” Rhys’s voice rang out and you cursed as your feet planted to the ground. Slowly, you inched up your sleeve to your elbow, and there it was.

Elain gasped and Mor had a tear running down her cheek. Amren soberly looked at you, understanding showing in her eyes. Rhys seemed to recoil and Feyre looked away. Even Cassian looked like he had nothing to say.

There on your forearm was cuts, over and over and over again each other. They were red and barely healed, all fresh. They were supposed to be healing, but you used a vial of Faebane and to slow the process down. You needed to savour the pain.

It was Azriel who asked, “Why?” You eyes fluttered to him, your voice turning cold. “You know why.” And with that you turned to leave. Maybe it wasn’t fair to him. Maybe It was selfish. But you just couldn’t bear it anymore.

You stormed down the steps of the House of Wind. You didn’t have the strength to summon your wings anymore. You didn’t have the strength to do anything. You didn’t care that the guards were watching as you choked out sobs as you stumbled down the stairs, eventually sitting down and facing the sky, praying to the cauldron to released of this horrible pain.

Your head fell in your hands and darkness engulfed your figure as you winnowed home.

~*~*~*~*~

Azriel’s POV

Azriel just sat there, shadows danced around his fingers as they tried to stretch away from him towards her. Not the female that he had convince myself to love, but the female who had run outside, the female who he could hear stumbling down the stairs of the House of Wind.

He wanted to go to her, wanted to comfort her ad tell her everything was fine, that it would be both of them against everything, just as it always used to be.

But how could he do that when he was the very person who had caused her sorrow?

Feeling Cassian’s eyes on Azriel, he demanded an explanation. Azriel should have known this would come, that he would have to face the reality of what he’d done, that he would have to face the regret and guilt that he had been trying to avoid, figuring out how he could possibly fix this on his own. Rhys himself was circling around Azriel’s mental shields, letting me know that if he didn’t want to say anything he could let Rhys in and Rhys would explain for Azriel’s thoughts to the others.

He didn’t deserve their kindness.

“Y/N…is my mate,” Azriel said softly. Cassian swore as he looked towards Elain, then glanced towards the door of the House of Wind where his friend had stumbled outside. Azriel winced, Cass might kill me, he and Y/N had grown up together and had known each other way before me and Rhys, they were almost siblings, and Cass was fiercely protective of Y/N.

Mor was quiet, Azriel would bet a good amount of Rhys’s coin that Mor already knew. It surprised him that Cass didn’t know, but knowing Y/N she likely didn’t tell him because she didn’t want Cass to worry, unluckily for her, Cass would have gone knocking at her door if she had missed just one more family event. After all, it was not like her to miss anything, it never was.

He looked to Elain, and she looked at Azriel with complete utter…he couldn’t place his finger on it. But as she stood up I could barely hear her words over the roaring of my ears.

“I have seen so much, and so little. But now I think it’s time I finally confessed. I knew this would come. I saw that eventually Azriel will come to face the reality that his mate was another, so I will break off my relationship with him. I bear no ill will towards him, I just wish I hadn’t basked in his attention, when I knew another was suffering,” “Suffering!?” Cassian exclaimed, he shot Azriel an accusatory look, “When the hell did you find out she was your mate?” Azriel grew quiet.

“Three days before I announced my relationship with Elain,” Azriel admitted. Rhys shook his head and Amren held a look of distaste. Cassian looked like he wanted to punch him square in the face but as he shot Nesta a look, she nodded and he was out the balcony immediately. He was probably on his way to her apartment, to do what Azriel should be doing, being by her side when it should be Azriel. A sense of possessiveness seemed to rise in him but Rhys slammed against his mental shields.

“You will not act like a territorial brute, what you have done to her is unforgiveable, and now all you can do is give her space. I know it can be hard given her situation, but I promise the rest of us will take care of her, it seems like you need to take care of yourself first and ask yourself why you would do something so stupid as to choose another female over your own mate.”

~*~*~*~*~

You were in your kitchen cured up, you dagger lay a few feet away from you as you pressed your palm against your mouth, muffling your sobs. You heard someone enter but you did not care. If they were an intruder they could kill you, end your misery, perhaps your prayers would have been answered. That was when Illyrian wings came into your view, causing you to hold your breath until Cassian’s face came to view.

You were about to get up, smile and maybe play broken but healing friend — when really it was just broken — until he left, but a flash of brilliant red hair came into view.

Lucien.

Glancing at Cass, he shrugged, I thought you might want someone who could understand what you are going through.

Smiling, you greeted Lucien, he only smiled softly, clearly trying not to look the blood tainted dagger at his feet, trying to avoid glancing at you arms, now on full display as you had changed to more comfortable shirt and shorts.

“I’ll be fine, you didn’t have to come,” You said softly. Softening, Cassian pulled you into a huge bear hug as you grunted. Holding you there for a few seconds he then shit over you onto the couch, where Lucien sat next to you.

After an array of smashing and clashing in your kitchen, Cassian came out with cookies and….coffee. “Gosh you know me so well,” You groaned as you sipped on the coffee that probably had too much sugar but you didn’t care, you took a cookie and ate as you curled up and continued to snack. Lucien smiled slightly and Cassian plopped onto an armchair in the room.

Everything was spinning, and you groaned as you curled up further into the couch, silently wishing you could disappear.

“Does it ever go away…this emptiness?” He stayed quiet at my question. Sighing, I knew I already had my answer. Though Elain never directly rejected the bond, Lucien had always suspected that she would never warm to the idea of the mating bond, he had seen for himself how Elain had looked at the spymaster with far more adoration than she had held for him.

“I just- it feels hollow. And I feel like I’m drowning and empty at the same time,” You choked, shaking silently, “It hurts so much and I can’t, i just can’t do any of this. I’m trying so hard to think that maybe this will all go away, that I will push through this and I will be okay, then I sit down for a second alone and these thought come back to just fuel me again and it overwhelms me. And I spiral again.” Tears continued to flow and you were surprised as Lucien wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. Holding you there, you cried into Lucien’s chest.

"I don't understand, why would he, hurt me like this. I watched him unconditionally love and fight for Mor, I was so naive to think he'd fight for me too. And now that I see him with Elain I can't help but wonder if I am really so undeserving of my own mate's affection."

Lucien listened and his presence brought you comfort. It made you feel….less alone. And as both of them said goodbye that night you felt reassured.

Maybe it would be okay.

~*~*~*~*~

Months passed and you managed to learn how to avoid Azriel at all cost. You showed up to family outings but never spoke to him and kept close to Lucien as he promised to accompany you. And once a month, you and Lucien would go out and you would drink your sorrows away mournfully. Well, he drank while you sipped a cup of water and tried not to recoil at the stench of alcohol that you had grown to despise.

You had done so well avoiding your problems until Rhys ordered you to do research, with Azriel.

“Can’t I do it with someone else?” “I’m sorry, I know the situation isn’t ideal but there are no records of anything like this existing, if you are ever going to find anything on these creatures, you’ll have to use Azriel’s shadows to scan the bookshelves quicker.” Gritting your teeth, you realised there was no way out of this situation.

Later that day you met Azriel at the library in the House of Wind. Once you acknowledged him, you walked swiftly throughout the library as you read through titles after titles of many books, occasionally passing one or two to Azriel to hold on to so you both could look at them at greater detail later on.

“Y/N I-” “I’d appreciate if we only spoke when necessary, I know you wish to discuss what occurred between us but I believe that there is no need. You made your feelings clear, I have nothing to say anymore, and I have no reason to blame you for following what you thought was right at the time,” You cut him off. You didn’t need the next few hours to become awkward, and he seemed to get the message.

Or so you thought.

The first hour passed with no luck. And you groaned inwardly as you realised the both of you would be here for a while.

The second hour passed and Azriel and you had set into a steady pace where Azriel would go around collecting books he could find while you studied them, you felt like your eyes would fall out from how much boring information you were reading.

The third hour you were ready to call it a day and leave the rest for tomorrow.

And when the fourth hour struck, you found it. Everything Rhys would need to know all in one book. It had been tucked away, hidden from view in between the bookshelves. No one had ever found it because the library wasn’t cleaned in those parts since the books were so ancient, the priestesses were afraid the books would fall apart from the slightest touch.

Cheering, you jumped up and laughed as you stretched your whole body. You needed food, desperately. It wasn’t until you heard that same chuckle did you finally reign yourself in. Smiling politely, you picked up the book and tried to rush out the library, but not before Azriel’s voice once again reached your ears.

“Why can’t you give me another chance?”

Pausing, you sighed as you spoke, your back still facing him as you couldn’t bear to face him, to face the reality of what happened between the two of you.

“Because even now, after all that’s happened. I can’t do it. I can’t help but love you even if I try my hardest not to. Because even now, after all that’s happened, I can’t help but think that you would still choose her. Because I know that you wouldn’t have left her, if she hadn’t left you. And it breaks my heart that even though I am bound to you for the rest of eternity, because maybe if I could choose too, it wouldn’t be you anymore.”

“Why?” Azriel asked, you could hear the desperation in his voice, but you could not let him in again. You watched him love Mor, loved him enough to wait until he was over her, watched as he broke your heart and left you, knowing that the both of you are mates.

“Because, Azriel, I deserve to be loved too.” Nodding, as if trying to convince yourself of this as well, “I deserve to be loved too.”

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: oof. So, I'm gonna let your imagination take the wheel. If enough people want part two i guess? But I'm probably not gonna :D

taglist: @positivewitch

Part 2 out here!

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader angst

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 10 months

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Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter /Next chapter

a/n fourteenth part! You guys we are nearing the end and this one... This one was tough. I will only be able to accept complaints via email. Enjoy! 😉🤍🫧

warning: kids, blood, torture, intoxication, drugs, dark magic, pain, deaths, Illyrian torture mmm... I'm trying to think if I haven't missed anything. Ah... wounds.

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There was one thing Azriel was certain about: he was never going to get used to the sensation of holding you. The way his body ignited. It felt as if only then all of his senses were in tune with the rest of his body. The sweetest taste of perfection filled him. This was what finally feeling whole felt like. So was he pissed off when Rhys's gentle knocking on his mental shields woke him up? Yes. Was untangling his limbs from you the hardest thing Azriel had ever done? Absolutely. Did he linger just a bit longer, slowly brushing your hair as he watched you take in breath after breath? yes. Azriel smiled to himself because this was it. This was his forever. His other half lay in his bed. Peacefully sleeping. So his. Only his.

"I'll let you punch me raw", Rhys had caught up with Azriel in no time, "But you also know I wouldn't have asked if this wasn't serious". Azriel knew his duties. He took them seriously, too. So even if his heart was bleeding for his mate, he knew his people also needed him. "Fill me in," Azriel said firmly, tightening the straps holding his knives. "Cass is finishing the last interrogations, and nothing fucking adds up." Rhys was frustrated, which was always a sign of something going extremely wrong. All he was told before Azriel had winnowed into the south side of Velaris was that the border had been breached. An attack had occurred, but the moment the soldiers were sent, it all vanished. In Azriel's 500 years of life, shit didn't just disappear. "Memories?", Azriel said as he scanned the place. Weavers were already patching up the wards, but none of them looked seriously torn apart or damaged in general. "Ink black," Rhys said and Aziel halted at the sound of it, an odd chill running through his back. "And a freezing one. I could push, but...", Rhys ran a hand through his hair. Azriel recognized that worry now. Worry for the family. A mate, children. He was in the same boat now. "You could push, but let me guess, you would fry their brains in the process," Azriel unleashed, his shadow scattering around the place. He was going to fix this. And fix this quickly. Maybe he will even be able to come back before you have woken up.

Cold. Cold. Cold. So cold. So dark. It was so painful and numb at the same time. There were hands. Cold fingers. Echoes of something familiar. How could one feel so heavy and light as a fever at the same time? It felt as if you were blinking for a moment, desperately trying to wake up, only to be plunged back into the same darkness. Someone was holding your head down as you trashed. before Your body had grown frail once more. Slumping.

"I'm telling you they came with torches; everything was on fire," the man said, and Azriel would have believed him, but he knew the farmer. Had gotten multiple reports from him about younglings messing up his sheep fence. He heard him speak before, and something deep within Azriel screamed that this man wasn't talking on his behalf. "Look, if you got the whole village in on this because of that damn fence..." Cassian huffed; he too was losing his patience. Nesta was pregnant. Nothing had been confirmed, but Azriel could smell it on Cass, and so could Rhys; the two had shared a look but chosen to not test Cassian's boundaries. The man was desperate for her. Out of the three of them, Cassian was the one whose patient was extremely thin today. Not to mention the heightened need to protect that coursed through his body.

Azrie shot his brother a look before motioning for the door. Cassian was halfway through the door when the man spoke again, "What fence?" There was a glimmer of relief in the man's eyes before it all glazed over again, and this time that same odd tone was back: "Torches all of them." Azriel turned to Rhys, whose face bore the same realization. They were all under something. Herbs. Magic. Mother only knew.

"Billy, your goat. How is he doing?", the man practically seized at Azriel's voice. "Bill...", the male breathed. "Yeah, one who chewed up your farm shoes," Azriel continued, the same glistening light running through the male's eyes. As if he was clawing at himself from within. It was as if someone was barging to be let out. But it was Rhys who delivered the last blow. "What about your wife? Huh, how's she been doing? She's still knitting you scarves." The male coughed, clawing at his neck. Panic set in as he moved towards the door, but Cassian was still standing there, his broad shoulders blocking any chance at escaping. "Billy and your wife, how are they?", Cass said it in a demanding tone. The man stilled, and then, thick like lava, liquid trickled down his nose.

"Rhys...", Cassian growled. The male staggered back slightly but gained his stance pretty quickly. And the terror that set in now was of a new kind. "My lord...", he breathed out, pulling his hat off his head, only then reaching to feel the dampness on his lip. Dread pooled in Azriel's stomach. "Fuck," the high lord breathed, "This is set up." Rhys's darkness swallowed the place as he winnowed. Azriel reached for the older male and said, "Go home; I'll be back, but you have nothing to worry about." With that, he snatched Cassian's hand as they both winnowed.

It was the cold that seeped into you that had pulled your eyes open. Your fingers grazed the surface beneath you. They felt numb as if they no longer belonged to you, but enough to still somewhat identify your surroundings. The surface you were lying on was damp. That would explain the sounds of droplets hitting the puddles somewhere. You tried to dig into your mind. Tried to think. Where were you? What was happening? You forced your eyes to fully open. A gray stone was what greeted you. You frowned instantly. Nothing seemed to add up. It was sniffling that you picked up on next. But the moment you turned your head to the side, you were met with something you thought you would never see again.

"No", your voice was barely a whimper. "No", you tried to pull yourself up, crawling towards the painfully familiar bars. You didn't feel a single ounce of magic within yourself. It was as if it had all fizzled out. But this couldn't be true. Absolutely couldn't. You have escaped. You... your hands touched the bars as you pulled yourself up. And for a heartbeat, you wished you hadn't.

In the cell opposite of yours lay two figures that clawed through every bit of sedative running through your system. "Zofie, Axel...", the words were barely a whisper as your knees threatened to buck any minute. "Zo, Ax," you breathed louder, trying to move the cell doors, but for nothing. It all came rushing back then. The strange vision. The dinner prep. Elain. Your thoughts halted - Azriel. Your hand rested on your chest. You couldn't feel him. You couldn't... "No," you breathed. He couldn't be dead. You wouldn't be standing here if he was. Your eyes darted back toward the kids. Zofie was pale. Too pale. Axel's wings were bent awkwardly. They couldn't be. They couldn't... It was enough for the thought to simply swirl there and within seconds you were turning to the side as bile rose in your throat.

No matter how much panic Azriel felt coming from both Rhys and Cassian, he refused to let it settle in. You were fine. You had to be. They were all just panicked. Nothing like that has happened since Amarantha. So it was more than understandable that everyone would be ticked off. Azriel unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt as he winnowed back to his apartment. Rhys was meeting him there the moment both Nesta and Feyre were in the safety of the house of wind.

Just the moment his foot hit the wood floor in his apartment, Azriel knew that something was off. The place seemed ice-cold. The burning smell filled his nose. No. No. No. Not happening. "Y/n," he called out as he stepped deeper into the place. Bile rose in Azriel's throat as his eyes scanned the kitchen. Flowers were scattered on the floor, with a smashed vase to accompany them. Fresh goods were still in the bags by the little kitchen counter. A burnt-out pot—whatever had been cooking there had turned into a chard mess. At least now he knew where the smell was coming from. Azriel's eyes fell onto the colorful drawing that now lay upon all the filth that filled the floor. A card. He hesitated. He knew whatever was in... Azriel folded the paper open. Messy's scribbled writing in two different colors greeted him.

We wanted to ask you a big question. Written with a k instead of a q, that's been crossed out and corrected. Azriel wanted that to warm his heart, but all it did was cause more ache. Yet nothing prepared him for the next line. Can you please be our dad? We'd love that, Zo and Ax. The world in front of Azriel shifted. His vision went out for a second. Their dad. A father figure. Azriel gripped the kitchen counter. His kids. They were already his kids. But to know that they both wanted that and that they had all of this set-out... All of this was supposed to be a surprise for him, and now...

Azriel heard rustling outside his apartment door that he only now realized was slightly ajar. "Elain?", a muffled voice that belonged to Rhys called out. Azriel crossed the distance in a couple of steps as he yanked the door open. His anger was boiling even hotter. He saw her, hiding in the corner of the hallway. That same black liquid trickled down her nose. "I couldn't. I tried", she managed to muffle between sobs, but Azriel turned away from her. "Tell Lucien that she's here. I don't need a territorial male running around causing trouble", Azriel said bluntly to Rhys.

"Azriel, please," Elain shifted, trying to reach for any part of the shadow singer she could get her hands on. "Elain, unless you have something useful to...", Azriel batted her hand away as he scowled at her. She probably didn't deserve it. It wasn't her fault that she had gotten herself under that spell, yet knowing that she was the one who had seen you last didn't sit well with Azriel. "They know you'll come; she wants that," Elain muttered, making Azriel frown. "Who?", the female shook her head, and Azriel moved to step away instantly. "A lady in white, she... I don't know, like a priestess."

And within a beat of a heart, it was all crystal clear. The threats and the unwillingness to cooperate—Rhys said it had all been done and taken care of. A new wave of anger rushed through Azriel as he reached for Rhys's neck, bending most of his body over the sixth-floor railing. "I should have burned that place down," Azriel hissed. "Azriel," Rhys said, pushing against his brother's hold. "If my mate and my kids get hurt because you stalled, I swear on everything holy to me. You will never see me again, Rhys", and with a final shove, Azriel let go. Rhys managed to keep himself upright, but before he could turn to the spymaster, he was already gone.

The next time your eyes snapped open, you scrambled to your feet almost immediately. Reaching for the bars, you cast your gaze upon the cell opposite yours. A breath hitched in your throat. They had shifted. Axel was leaning against the wall. All you could see was his face; his wings were messily draped over his chest, he no doubt had to be holding Zofie. "Axel," you called out softly, not wanting to startle him even more. Mother knew these kids were through hell just because of you. "Sweetheart, Ax," you called out again, knees buckling as those golden eyes gazed straight at you. "Y/n," he breathed in return, trying to move closer, but you quickly shook your head.

"It's okay; stay where you are. Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?", you looked him over the best you could. The boy only shook his head. "But Zofie is cold," he muttered, pealing one of his wings to reveal a sickly pale girl with no color in her skin. You sank to the floor. "Is she...", the ringing in your ears grew louder. Axel quickly shook his head once more. "I think it's the empathy thing," he said softly. "I've been thinking all the happy thoughts, and pa-Azriel," Axel stated. Your eyes softened. "You don't have to correct yourself, Ax; you can call him your papa." You wished they hadn't taken this evening away from them. Why this one out of them all? "Will he come to get us?", there was doubt in the boy's tone, but you met his eyes with your blazing gaze. "He will. He will always come for us. No matter where we end up, Azriel will always find a way to bring us back home. You want to know why?", you asked him, and Axel instantly nodded, "Because he loves us, and we love him."

Azriel's shadows were swirling all around the sanctuary as he watched from the mountain peaks. He knew that you were there. The last bits of mating bond practically screamed at him while he ran over ways he was going to slather everyone stupid enough to get in his way. He gritted his teeth together.

"You know... I was never afraid of your darkness," you had muted to him as you two had laid in bed together. Your hand was extended up in the air as his shadows swirled all around, tattering your skin with kisses. "You should be; most are," Azriel breathed. "Why would I? It's a part of you, and it's beautiful to me." Azriel had shifted slightly from the words—loving you is the easiest thing I have to do in my life, he had thought but he didn't say it. too afraid that it was all moving too fast. too afraid to scare you away. And now, more than ever, Azriel wished he would have spoken those words. Would have told you about the house on the very side of Velaris. He had bought it decades ago for his family. For his mate and for his kids. And he had just that—all of it—but it was slipping past his fingers.

A handful of papers slapped against Azriel's chest as Rhys winnowed right in front of him. "Padme wants you apart because you two were a profit in some ancient scroll," Azriel snatched the report, taking his eyes off the building just for a heartbeat so he could look it over. "You two are the opposite of the spectrum; your union can... You'd become more powerful than most high lords", Rhys said firmly, knowing that at any moment the words he spoke could be his last, " So this whole thing could be set up by one or multiple of the other high lords, or someone desperate to save the world".

Azriel had to give Rhys credit. The stuff he pulled out in such a short time was impressive, and it would explain the level of magic used to possess others. But if he could do it in such a short time, he could have given him the papers with this information weeks ago. As if reading his mind, Rhys spoke, "Let us help you get her and the kids back, and then you're free to step away from your position as my spymaster." The words drilled holes in Azriel's already bleeding heart, "I should have taken action sooner. I failed you and your family." Azriel lifted his hand, silencing his high lord. "Two entrances are unguarded. Your job is to get the kids and take them away from that place", the cold tone Azriel used felt wrong, but he couldn't do this now. Azriel's priorities no longer lay with Rhys. No longer lay with his court.

You were humming an old Illyrian lullaby when the doors to the dungeon creaked open and in strolled Padme, accompanied by at least four guards. "I hope you're enjoying your fantasy now," she said with that same cold smile on her lips. "You bitch," you spat her way, throwing all of your weight at the iron bars. "Pick your words wisely, child. I have power over you", she said, standing right in front of you now, looking you over as if you were nothing more than a speck of dirt beneath her shoes. "I trusted you," you said through gritted teeth, "You said...", "That I cared? That I will keep you safe," Padme cut you off, "The same thing your supposed lover is saying to you now. Look where my love brought you; want to see where he will take you?" She stepped over so quickly you didn't even notice when her claws had dug in the hack of your scalp, that same demonic face flashing right in front of you.

Then flames erupted all around you. All of the Velaris was up in flames. Houses falling. People were trying to crawl from beneath the debris. You ran forward, trying to help a woman free her leg, but the moment you approached, she screamed out in panic, trying to move away from you. You shook your head. "Do you want this?", Padme's voice rang all around you. "You are going to be so selfish and end so many lives just because you think someone can finally love you," her laugh echoed, chipping even more of your already frozen-over heart. "I kept you safe. It is I who truly knows how to love a creature like you". Your head fell back as the priestess pulled her blood-coated nails away from you, licking the very tips, "You always belonged with me." Your eyes locked on her dark orbs. You've never seen them in their true colors before.

"That's a lie! Azriel loves us; we're a family," Axel's voice rang out, making you blink, "Tell her, YN, we'll always be together." Padme turned to the boy, yanking the cell door open as she stepped in. "No," you breathed out, reaching for them. "Say that again, boy," her hand wrapped around his neck as she lifted him from the ground, Zofie's frail body slipping out of his hand, awkwardly filling the cold floor. "No, Padme, let him go," you pleaded. You were not letting them go through the same torture you had already endured. "He loves her," Axel said firmly, even if he was slowly losing oxygen. "I'll do whatever you want, but you have to promise you will not hurt them, Pad," you said so quickly that you could barely make out your own words.

The priestess's head turned toward you, a vicious smile spreading across her face. "Return them safely to Azriel, and I will do whatever you want," you pleaded. Padem simply let go of Axel. "Very well," she said happily. "I'll drop them off at that old lady's house," You nodded along with her words. Cordelia will look after them for now. She'll explain it all to them. Take good care of Zofie until she can once again lay in Azriel's arms. "But you, my dear," Padme mustered, "You owe me your heart, especially the part of it that belongs to the shadowsinger." Your vision blurred as her words settled in. A part. There wasn't just a part. All of it was Azriel's. You had given it to him that night outside his mother's house. He had it ever since.

Azriel had his finger pressed to his lips as he once again came into contact with a small group of terrified females, slowly gesturing for them to exit the place. Knowing well that Rhys would guide them out of the building. One of them had already told them how to get to the lower floors of the sanctuary. Azriel would find you. He'll take you home. He rounded the familiar corner. He was trying to be as quiet as he possibly could. It was strange to think that he had lived here for a bit. He had met his other missing part between these walls, which made him nothing but sick now.

Down the corridor. Into the main communal hall, and then right on the left corner, Azriel stopped. There was no way. No, there was no way this couldn't be it. His eyes instantly darted up, looking for anyone planning an attack from up above, but he saw no one, and his shadows sensed nothing.

"Y/n," he breathed out, and you instantly turned around. Your dress was dirty and damp, and there was blood running down the back of your neck, mixing in with your light hair. Blood. Azriel crossed the distance between the two of you in a couple of steps. "Why are you here? Did you kill her?", he carefully cupped your face as he looked you over. Your lip trembled. "Love," Azriel breathed. "The kids are at your mother's. I got them out, but you need to leave," the last word was choked out, and you quickly covered your mouth. Trying to fight your emotions. Azriel pulled at your hand, but you quickly pulled back. "You need to leave me behind," you whispered. "That will never happen," the spymaster said firmly.

"Azriel, I will lose control again. I will burn the city down. I saw it", you shook your head, trying to chase the images away. "I will burn it for you if you give up on us," Azriel said harshly, but his touch still stayed nothing but soft.

"I'm not giving up on us," you whispered so quietly. You promised to push him away. Make him leave you so the kids will be safe. Be safe with him. They didn't need you. But you couldn't lie to him. You'll make him leave you behind in some other way. But Azriel cupped your face with both hands and said, "I waited for you my whole life. You are everything I ever wanted and more. I can only breathe when I'm with you, Y/n. You are my everything. If you are not with me, I don't want to live." His honest words pulled a light sob from your lips. "Azriel, I...", you breathed right as an arrow pierced Azriel's shoulder. The spymaster hissed as he turned back, trying to find the source of the attack.

"No," you shouted, but Azriel was already shielding you while an arrow after an arrow pierced his skin and wings. A roar slipped past his lips, but he stood unmoving, using his body like a shield. "No, let me," you breathed out as you tried to pull him away but... The room died down quickly, and you watched as Azriel slowly sank to his knees.

"Azriel," you followed suit, cupping his face in your hands. His lips were tinted red. No, they couldn't be. No, this couldn't be happening. Azriel moved one of his hands up as he grasped your forearm firmly. "You belong to no one," he said, pausing to take a breath between each word, "Don't let them control you any longer." His grip loosened, and his hazy eyes only focused on you. "No, Az. Azriel! Look at me, Azriel", you bagged, tapping his face lightly, trying to keep him awake.

"And so the story ends," Padme said, moving from behind one of the columns with a pleased smile on her lips. "What did you do? What did you do?", you shouted at her. "I saved the world, child," she said, raising her hands in delight. Her laughter filled the space, but your eyes were already back on your mate. "Azriel, look at me," you pressed your hands against him, trying to flicker at least some of your magic on, but you couldn't seem to get a hold of it. The spymaster smiled slightly, grasping your hand in his. "I'll see you on the other side," he muttered. You choked out a cry. "No, no, you will not," you said angrily. "Azriel," his name was like a prayer on your lips. You felt the last bits of the bond slowly flicker out as an overwhelming pain crawled all over you. Time slowed as you watched Azriel's eyes slowly droop.

But then your deathly glare rose to meet Padme's satisfied gaze. "What did you do?", the scream ripped through. Ignited even more by the pain of feeling Azriel slipping away, the cry seemed never-ending. You heard glass breaking. The cracking of the chipping stone. You saw nothing but white rage. Pulling one of the arrows out of Azriel's body, you pointed it at Padem. "I will be your worst nightmare," you said through gritted teeth. Your body didn't feel like your own as you logged the arrow. And it hit Padme straight in her heart with the speed you'd never thought you could muster.

That same itching feeling in your throat started once more. The same one you felt when they ripped your wings off. The sanctuary was slowly falling apart. The females rushed to get out, but you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore as you pulled Azriel's head over your lap. There was so much blood everywhere. Too much blood. The tears fell freely down your face in a never-ending stream.

You moved your hands over Azriel's heart, watching as your hands disappeared within the light you possessed. But it didn't seem to work. "Y/n," you heard Rhys's shaky voice. "Get out," you barked out. The high lord still tried to step closer, but you hissed at him, "Get out, Rhys, and take the ones you can with you." You felt the last bits of your self-control failing. He only held your gaze for a moment before he winnowed away.

A sob slipped past your lips as you cupped Azriel's face, leaning over to kiss his cold lips. Time slowed once more. The static felt unbearable. One heartbeat. Two. Three. Four. And it all erupts with a sob like no other. You felt blood trickling down your ears as all of your being clawed at your fragile body. The light was blinding. So was the warmth that followed it. It felt like forever. The sizzling of your skin eased as the snow slowly fell upon you two. You blinked a couple of times. Pouring whatever was left into Azriel until your hands slipped off his chest and your body sagged on top of his.

The first thing he felt was coldness. Then the snowflakes fell on his face. His body also felt heavy. Like it had never felt before. The gray sky was all around him as he opened his eyes. His mind felt numb. For a moment, he had no idea why he was lying there in the first place. Until it all came tumbling down. One image after the other. The sanctuary. You. Arrows. Was this what the other side looked like because, shit, it was grim. Azriel shifted slightly, halting when his hand hit something. Something that was sprawled out across him.

He sat up so fast that your body rolled down to his lap. No. "Y/n," he said, wrapping his arms around your body and hissing at the coldness of it. "My love," he muttered, flexing his stiff wings. They had to be torn. Azriel turned. Not a single cut was on them. Not a single arrow was in his flesh. You've melted it away and healed him. "Love," he called out desperately, "Open your eyes." You couldn't die. He couldn't have just been here, lying unconscious, while you slowly faded from this world.

Azriel's eyes darted across the fallen sanctuary walls. Blood on the white stone. Padme's body was not far away from where you two were. Only the outskirts of the city looked burned to the ground, but there was no doubt that Rhys knew that something like this was coming. Azriel shook his head as he pressed his forehead to yours. "You promised me forever, love," he said softly, "I'm calling in my bargain now." Azriel carefully brushed his lips over yours, and the faintest of thuds echoed in your hallowed-out chest.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @stressed-reader

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x oc

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acotar-taylorsversion · 8 months

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Gwynriels and eluciens, this soft launch of Elriel and Elain being the next main character is for you guys cause you guys obviously don’t get it.

We know it’s not a confirmation, but like Sarah has said, isn’t it obvious? We know it’s coming.

Acotar isn’t about a Pegasus, or priestesses, or valkyries, or whatever it is you guys think GWYN (and not emerie for some reason) is gonna do for the illyrians, none of that. Like Azriel hates the illyrians, he’s not gonna do anything to fix or help them, that would be Cassian, who actually loves his people despite what they’ve done. It’s about FEYRE and her sisters, and their stories and choices. It’s always gonna be centered around the archerons.

Those of us that have been around since the beginning, like since 2015 like me, have sensed this from the beginning. It’s been obvious ever since Elain and Azriel met in mist and fury and then again when rejecting a mate and questioning the cauldron was brought up in wings and ruin.

I’m sick and tired of this idiotic ship war, especially when one of the ships doesn’t even exist in canon. Like Sarah never talks about gwyn, never talks about Lucien anymore. She only mentions Elain and Azriel and you guys can’t connect the dots. Well, I think you can, you guys just refuse to accept what the rest of fandom knows. The next book is gonna be Elain and Azriel’s story and then the last acotar book is more than likely gonna be a multi pov book, similar to kingdom of ash, centered around the 3 main couples and their friends as they defeat the big bad and finish the series.

Sorry for the rant. I’ll probably get bitched at or a screen shot will be taken and I’ll be trashed on the other side. I’m just tired of the other side treating us like we’re the delusional ones. Sometimes they make no sense at all, it’s comical.

#acotar #elain archeron #elriel #anti g*ynriel #pro elriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar 5 #anti el*cien #anti gwynriel #anti elucien

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mother-above · 7 months

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The Golden Warrior | Chapter 10

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 10/?

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: 18+ suggestiveness, swearing,fluff, and very stubborn characters

*masterlist*

Azriel despised going to Illyria. He hated dealing with the warlords and loathed dealing with Illyrian problems that wouldn’t even be there if the males weren’t misogynistic assholes. There were reports of wing clippings in a war camp at the edge of Illyria. Usually, Rhysand and Cassian would be the ones to deal with this, but Rhys was busy with Hewn City and Cassian was newly mated.

Azriel spent a total of four days and three nights in that camp interrogating and then eliminating all those who took part in the wing clippings. The shadowsinger did not hold back, he made sure the males that committed this crime were publicly held accountable. He paid a visit to the young girls, and it broke his heart to see them lying on their stomachs, their small wings tattered and unhealable. He wished you were there; he knew you’d be able to make the girls more comfortable and lift their spirits.

Your absence is another reason for Azriel’s irritable mood. It has been two months since he last saw you. Your letters were vague and gave no information about how you were doing. He asked to visit, and you came up with some bullshit excuse, he felt better when Feyre told him that you said the same thing to her but that didn’t stop Azriel from brooding. He almost sent his shadows to find out, but he knew you would find them, and he didn’t want to spend a whole week sick and throwing up into a toilet.

Azriel spent sleepless nights thinking about what you could be doing. Were you sleeping around trying to forget about Tarquin? Were you drowning yourself at work trying to forget about the battle? Were you doing both? Another thing causing Azriel’s constant surly mood was that he was needy. He wanted you all the time and when he slept, he would dream about your soft body underneath him. He would wake up upset that your body wasn’t entangled with his, his hands gripping your thighs. Pleasuring himself barely tapped the surface, he needed more, he needed you and he had no idea if you would ever kiss him again.

One time, it got so bad Azriel found himself in a pleasure hall in the middle of the night. It felt wrong being there, and just when he was going to turn around and go home, he felt a hand slip around his waist, in an aroused daze, he followed the female into a room. His shadows were screaming at him to stop, and when the female pressed her semi-clothed body against his, he ran over to the trash can and heaved into it. He apologized and then slipped into the shadows to get as far from her as possible. Azriel took a scalding bath and soaped and lathered his skin at least three times to get rid of the female's scent. He went to bed alone and ashamed. Even his shadows were upset at him and were nowhere to be found. That was the biggest reason Azriel took the job to deal with the wing clippings, he needed to punish himself for even thinking going to the pleasure hall was a good idea.

When the time came for Azriel to go back to Velaris, the violence Azriel unleashed at the camp did little to make him feel better. He was tense about anything and everything, he was halfway to Velaris when he felt a talon scrape against his mental shield.

Yes?

Even Azriel’s mental response was gruff.

We’re having a family dinner when you get home. Also… your mate is here at the House of Wind.

Why the hel didn’t you tell me sooner?

Surprise, purred Rhysand.

Azriel beat his wings faster. Rhysand had told him a few weeks back that you were having a tough time and Thesan was thinking about sending you to Night Court for a while. The frigid wind stung his face, but his body and wings were warmed up from the physical exertion, Azriel had never flown this fast before, he was desperate to see you. Minutes later, he passed by the wards protecting Velaris, his wings beating hard as he saw the twinkling House of Wind in his sight. He could feel your presence, you were so close, and his shadows chittered with glee.

He free-falls right above the House, his feet landing with such force the mountain shook. A chorus of hellos rang through the air, but Azriel heard nothing. His fierce gaze searched for yours and when he did, he felt his heart drop. Your eyes were tired, the dark circles on your skin emphasized that something was wrong. Your sizable feathered wings were nowhere to be found and you looked like you lost a bit of weight. What horrified Azriel the most was the absence of your radiance. Your skin looked just like his, ordinary, with no hint of a glow beneath it.

Azriel greeted his brothers and family, but he could barely keep his eyes off you. By the time he reached you, those in attendance were discreetly staring at the both of you. Even those who knew nothing of the bond could clearly see that something was happening between the two of you.

His tall figure towered over as he took in every new detail, and you were doing the same. Instinctively, your arms reached up and he met you halfway, his arms carefully encircling your waist as he hugged you. He wanted to cry out when he noticed how different your body felt, while still muscular, you felt strange and fragile. He breathed you in and even the smell of lilacs and sweet morning dew was dampened by the sharp bitterness of your power. He couldn’t believe how different you were, he swore to himself he would never leave your side again.

“Hi,” he said softly. “It’s good to see you.”

The sound of his voice sent a strange rush of reassurance through your body. Your usually tense muscles relaxed, and you found that horrible gnawing pit in your stomach had calmed.

“Hi,” you breathed out. “It’s nice to see you too.”

The two of you didn’t talk, you didn’t feel like you needed to. It was enough to stand there and be in each other’s presence. His shadows were ecstatic, they hovered around and gave you a look over, some felt protective, so they latched onto your shoulders and stayed there as you walked to the dining table.

The dinner was served family style, and the conversation was entertaining. Being the newcomer, you stayed quiet as you observed the dynamics between everyone at the table. Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Morrigan, and Varian were by far the loudest and rowdiest. Everyone was quite cheerful; they were excited to have a new face in the house and you found yourself feeling comfortable in the unfamiliar environment. They made sure to include you in conversations, but they never pushed you too far.

The wine was flowing, thanks to Feyre who sat next to you constantly refilling your glass. The food was surprisingly good, you took a special interest in the chicken dish that you knew originated from Dawn Court. Azriel was delighted to see you reaching for seconds, he met eyes with Rhysand whose twitch of the lips told Azriel that he too was happy.

Her body knows that she’s safe and close to her mate.

Azriel nodded.

Rhysand had mentally filled him in that your trauma had made you lose interest in most things. Azriel discreetly simmered with anger because it seemed like everyone but he knew about your situation before he did. He was angry at Thesan and Rhys for not telling him that you were acting like this. Azriel hid his fury well; he refused to sour your seemingly content mood. What bothered him the most was the fact that he didn’t insist and tried harder to see you. He thought that giving you space was the best thing, you had gone through something traumatic, and he wanted you to be the one to reach out, but clearly, it wasn’t the best idea.

Once dinner was over, everyone moved to lounge in the living room and balcony. More wine and amber-colored liquor were poured, feeling in the mood to drink, you divulged and had a couple of glasses. It was strange to see Rhysand so informal, splayed out on the couch with Feyre’s feet on his lap. Morrigan wanted to go dancing and after no one wanted to go out, she huffed and flopped onto a floor cushion and declared that one night, she would get everyone in the room to party with her.

Feeling warm and slightly overwhelmed by Cassian’s drunken storytelling, you got up from the loveseat and headed to the balcony. You welcomed the cool air as you took in the sights of snowcapped mountains. You weren’t sure if it was the city lights that gleamed below you or the warmth of the liquor but for the first time in a while, you felt something other than dread. The tickle of a shadow around your ankle was the first thing you felt, your lips quirked up when you saw Azriel join you by the balcony.

“It’s beautiful here.”

Azriel sidled closer to you and leaned his forearms on the banister. “It’s my favorite place in the whole universe. I have a meeting in the morning but after, I’m free to show you around.”

“Thank you, but Feyre and Morrigan had already offered to give me a tour.”

Azriel clicked his tongue. “I’m sure I have better spots to show you. The best views require wings- “

You winced and he grimaced. His eyes land on the space behind your back. “I’m sorry. How are your wings? In your letters, you told me they were healed…”

You chewed your bottom lip and gazed at the city lights. “I haven’t been able to fly since the war. I tried taking off and I ended up faceplanting and fracturing my wrist. They’ve been glamoured since then.”

Azriel saw the pain in your eyes, and he felt awful. He wished he could help you like you’ve helped him. Without your healing, Azriel would’ve never flown again.

A breeze blew by and despite the warmth of the liquor, you shivered. Feeling bold, Azriel curled a wing around you, and shortly, warmth enveloped you as the mix of cedar and lilac filled both your senses. You hummed as you felt your body continue to relax, his warmth alluring enough to make you lean against him. The bond thrummed in Azriel’s chest; happy you chose to be close to him. He was near enough to pull you closer by the waist, but Azriel held back, it would have been too much for you.

“I can help you with the flying,” said Azriel softly.

You lifted your head and looked up to see that he was genuine. Callon and the other Peregryn’s were too scared to offer such services, scared that you would be offended. Once again resting your head against his shoulder, you slightly shook your head,

“Thank you for offering but I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice so deep that it rumbled. “let me know when you’re ready. I’m here for you.”

You breathed deeply, inhaling morning dew and night mist, and felt at ease. It felt strange to feel this much comfort and safety, you don’t think you’ve felt these feelings since before the war with Hybern.

Turning to Azriel, you looked up into his warm green and honey-colored eyes. “I missed you. Sorry if my letters were short, I didn’t know what to say.”

He shrugged. “You’re here now, that’s what matters.” He didn’t think it would be this hard to act this nonchalantly. He cherished those letters no matter how vague they were, each letter you sent was tucked away in a safe spot on his office desk.

“I missed you too,” said Azriel, every emotion he had felt the past few months was poured into those four words.

You don’t know if it’s the liquor, his warmth, his scent, or the way he was looking at you but suddenly, your faces were only inches apart. You glanced at his lips and remembered how soft they felt and how he made you feel like you were floating. Acting on impulse, you go on your toes so you can reach him, and just as your lips are about to press against his, Cassian’s slurred voice cuts through the air.

“The Golden Warrior and the Spymaster!” said Cassian as he walked toward the two of you.

Eyes wide, you sprung away from Azriel and wrapped an arm around yourself. Your cheeks grew hot, and you refused to look at the shadowsinger. “I- uh, I think I’m going to head to my room now. Thank you for the dinner, good night,” you said hurriedly walking inside and past the others.

Once Azriel could hear you bounding up the stairs, a growl rumbled from his chest as he glared at his brother.

“What the fuck was that Cas?”

Cassian, who sobered up quickly, shrunk away and held his hands up. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

Azriel stood there menacingly, everyone thought Azriel was going to punch him but instead, Azriel slipped into a shadow and disappeared.

Cassian stood there stunned and turned to see everyone in the living room glaring at him.

“If he hit you, I wouldn’t have stopped him,” said Nesta. “You would’ve deserved that.”

Mor and Amren were scowling while Rhysand and Feyre just sighed heavily. Varian, Elain, and Lucien looked at each other with wide eyes, this was a pair they never expected much to the disappointment of Elain.

Safely in your bedroom, you walked to the bathroom and looked at your flushed cheeks as you placed your fingers over your lips. You grimaced when you saw that the crimson color had made its way to your ears, a slight glow emitting from your skin.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled. “Don’t kiss your friends.”

Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, you drew a bath and sat in the suds contemplating your first day in Night Court.

Azriel was lying on the floor in the middle of the training ring and it was cold, but he didn’t care. He was beating himself up for the almost kiss, he wasn’t sure if it was him who started leaning in or if it was both of you. He saw how startled you looked and now he’s scared that any progress that was made had regressed. He remembered Thesan’s advice to be patient with you, but Azriel was preparing himself for the reality that you may never feel the bond snap or if you decide to stay friends. That’s what Rhysand did with Feyre, he was patient and let her make all the choices.

Azriel would never force the bond on you, he wished and told the Mother above that he would take whatever role you wanted him to be. All he wants is for you to be in his life. After a few hours, the cold finally got to him, so Azriel went downstairs and walked quietly through the halls. He was about to enter his bedroom when he heard sniffles from the room across from him. The faint trace of lilacs made his jaw go slack.

Sneaky bastards thought Azriel.

The shadowsinger softly knocked on your door but he heard nothing but the sound of you crying even harder. His shadows were hissing at him to go to you and after a few seconds, Azriel slowly opened the door. Curled up on the right side of the bed was you sobbing in your sleep. He felt his heart drop as he watched your face contort in anguish, the tears streaming from your closed eyes. Quietly padding to your bedside, Azriel whispered your name, but it wasn’t enough. Feeling brave, Azriel rested his hand on your bare shoulder and shook you gently.

Waking up with a start, you snatched the hand that was on you and only relaxed when you saw that it was just Azriel.

“Are you okay? Your room is across from mine, and I heard you crying… I thought I should wake you.”

You sat up and rubbed your wet eyes. “I’m fine,” you said still disoriented.

Azriel awkwardly stood next to you. He did not think this through, now you were going to think he was strange for bursting into your room uninvited. He watched you blink back the tears and to his surprise, you reached over and patted the foot of the bed asking him to sit there.

He was pleased you wanted him to stay, as calmly as he could he nodded and sat on the edge, his feet planted on the floor as he turned to look at you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a hard time? I would have taken time off work; I would’ve helped you.”

You shook your head as a frown formed. “That’s the thing, I don’t understand how everyone is acting like thousands of faeries didn’t die. In the beginning, I thought everyone was feeling what I felt, and I didn’t want to bother anyone. I don’t know how everyone moved on so fast, I feel responsible for every single Dawn Court death,” you said as your lips trembled. Hugging your knees, you looked at the Azriel, the faint faelight bright enough so you could see his silhouette. “If I was powerful enough, I could’ve taken more Hybern soldiers down, I could’ve saved more Prythian lives.”

“Please believe me when I say you were powerful enough, it just happened that you were up against the godsdamned Cauldron. Amren had to unbind herself and die to beat them.” Azriel shook his head, he restrained himself from wanting you in his arms and comforting you. “The first battle is the hardest, I locked myself in a cabin and was in a drunken stupor for a whole month until Cas and Rhys dragged me outside. I don’t think anyone moved on… we’re all clinging onto normalcy, so we aren’t consumed by the guilt of being lucky enough to survive. When you’re centuries years old, you learn how to deal with that heartache.”

You sat still and absorbed his words as you looked at the outlines of his wings, the scarred membrane so familiar to you.

“Sometimes I can still smell blood and hear the clanging of metal. I know it’s not real, but it scares me and it makes my blood run cold.” The very thought of those hallucinations gives you chills, the goosebumps littering the skin that your pajamas don’t cover. “Sometimes I get these nightmares, they’re not all about the war, sometimes it's things that happened in the past.”

Azriel stood up and reached over to grab the crumpled ends of the blankets and pulled to cover you. His warm hands brushing against your skin made a blush spread through your cheeks as you thanked him. He sat back down on the edge of the bed but this time, he was much closer to you, his wings brushing the side of your calf.

“What were you dreaming about?”

Your heart started to pound against your chest. Should you tell him that you were dreaming of the boy? Of him?

“I’ve been getting these reoccurring nightmares,” you said shakily. “It’s about a little boy locked in a dark cellar.”

Azriel’s face blanched, his heart pounding just like yours was.

“Tonight I watched these young boys pour oil on the little one’s hands and light them on fire. I couldn’t move to help him, it was like I was stuck in the shadows… gods I can still hear him scream,” you whispered, tears running down your face as the vivid dream replayed in your head. “I tried to help him but I couldn’t.”

Azriel was frozen, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Is this something mates experienced? Did they have dreams of each other? He watched as your puffy red eyes looked down at his hands that were clasped tightly on his lap.

“Az?”

“Yes, dove?”

There were a few moments of silence, the only thing heard was you and Azriel’s heartbeats.

“Are you the boy I’ve been dreaming about?”

He let out a long exhale. “I think so,” whispered Azriel. He waited for the bond to snap for you, the golden cord in his chest reaching out to the empty half. A few seconds later, there was nothing and disappointment flowed through him.

“That’s what happened to your hands then? Your brothers burned you?” Your breathing sped up, the confusion of why you were dreaming of Azriel overwhelming you. The painful images once again flooded your mind, your eyes squeezed shut as flashes of burned flesh, beheaded monsters, and ashes overtook your mind. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save them.”

You were hyperventilating and the tears streaming down your face no longer letting you see Azriel who was kneeling on the bed panicking about how to help you. Your mental state was too fragile, Azriel immediately felt bad for being frustrated with you. Reaching out, Azriel cradled your face with both hands and wiped your tears away.

“Breathe,” he said calmly. “Inhale and exhale slowly. Follow me.”

He led by example and then you follow by syncing your breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as you placed your hands over his. The scars on top are rough against your palms. “What they did to you was horrible.”

“There was nothing you could have done to help me and that’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It happened so many years ago, and Cas and Rhys already punished them for it.”

“Why would I dream of you?” You said as your eyebrows furrowed.

His thumb that stroked your cheekbone lifted and moved to trace the jagged scar that ran above it. He couldn’t tell you now, not in this state. “I don’t know,” lied Azriel. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We can try to figure it out another day.”

Looking down at your pillow, you hesitated. You were exhausted but you were scared to close your eyes.

“Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

“Y-yes,” stammered Azriel. “I can stay with you.”

Moving to the left side of the bed, you watched as Azriel tucked his wings in and laid on your pillow, the scent of lilacs filling his senses. A shy smile graced your lips and Azriel couldn’t help but reciprocate it. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

To both of your surprise, you found yourself reaching over to take his hand and placing it in the middle of the bed. You lightly traced the ridges of the marked skin, Azriel searched your face for any hint of disgust, but he found none, only pure curiosity. He relaxed as your fingertips ran over each knuckle and finger, the movements lulling him into a tranquil state. As if you were protecting him, you placed your hand over where the burns were concentrated. Azriel felt his heart swell, the gesture alone made his eyes glimmer, the golden bond in his chest thrumming in comfort and happiness. With your eyelids growing heavier by the second, you felt the smallest tug in your chest, and then blissful sleep took over.

***

The next morning, you were awakened by a knock on the door, and your eyes flew open to look at the other side of the bed. Judging by rumpled sheets and slight warmth, Azriel must have gotten up an hour ago. With your permission, Nuala floated in with her shadowy form and stood at the foot of the bed, a slight smile on her face as she took notice of the right side of the bed. A blush crept up your neck, you couldn’t believe you went to sleep holding Azriel’s hand.

Nuala asked you if you would like to be attended to, but you politely declined. You were Dawn Court royalty; Rhysand must’ve suspected you got ready with attendants but that only happened on special occasions. She leaves you with a few coats and cardigans lent by Mor and Feyre before leaving you to get ready.

Before using magic to make the bed, you stared at Azriel's side for a moment longer before going to the bathroom to get ready. You emerged dressed and ready for the day wearing linen pants and a wool sweater, your puffy eyes the only remnants of last night's crying.

You were the last to show up for breakfast, the only seat was between Azriel and Feyre. A chorus of “good mornings” filled the air and you responded, your lips slightly smiling when you caught Azriel’s eye, him trying and failing to hide the smirk. With a wave of Rhysand’s hand, breakfast dishes were placed on the center of the table. Without asking, Feyre is already pilling pancakes on your plate while Azriel spooned fruit on the side. A grateful smile graced your lips as they spoiled you, Nesta who sat across handed you the maple syrup.

The group called themselves the inner circle and you understood why, aside from you and the other newcomers on the table, Rhysand and the inner circle had been friends and rulers for five centuries. It was clear that they all loved and respected each other, and they extended the same courtesy to their new family and guests. They were talking about the Winter Solstice that was coming up in about two months, all the Courts held parties or rituals that day, it just so happens that Winter Solstice was Dawn Court's biggest celebration of the year.

You grimaced; you should’ve been planning things for the annual grand ball, but you had forgotten. Rhysand reassured you that Thesan had the ball covered but that didn’t ease the guilt you felt for being an inadequate second. For the rest of breakfast, you stayed quiet while blankly looking at your half-eaten pancakes. Cassian kept trying to coax a laugh out of you while Mor and Feyre tried getting you to talk about anything, but nothing worked. Your conscious was still preoccupied with punishing you for how useless you’ve been to your Court. Azriel gave his family a look and shook his head, silently telling them to drop the subject. Normally you would have been bantering with his family, but you weren’t okay.

After breakfast, you went to your room to get ready for your day out. You dressed in the thickest clothes you packed and clasped your sapphire necklace around your neck. You didn’t want to scare the citizens of Velaris with your power, the last time they felt dark magic was when Hybern attacked their city. You emerged from your room wearing a wool coat and went to the balcony where Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand were waiting to fly you all down.

Azriel approached with something dark blue in his hands. His brothers pretended to be in a conversation but really, they were snooping. He stopped when he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from you.

“Hi, sorry about last night, I got up just after the sun rose. I fell asleep and I didn’t wake up till the morning, I know I was only supposed to stay till you went to slee- “

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, your cheeks feeling hot. “I don’t mind. I should be the one embarrassed, I made you stay because I was scared. Thank you for staying.” You chuckled softly.

Azriel shook his head. “I didn’t mind at all, I’m just glad I could help you.” Before he could back out, he thrust the soft blue cloth toward you.

“What’s this?” Your fingers brushed against his as you grasped onto the cloth. Holding it up, you realize it was a beanie made of yarn. “Did you make this?”

Cassian and Rhysand looked at each other with wide eyes. They didn’t even bother faking a conversation, they stood there staring at each other solely communicating telepathically.

Azriel brushed his hands along his inky hair. “Um... yes, I did. It’s something I learned when Rhys was Under The Mountain, I found out it calms me when I get stressed. You don’t actually have to wear it or anything…I just thought that it might be helpful.”

A genuine smile spread across your lips, your eyes lighting up for the first time in a while. “It’s beautiful, this is exactly what I needed!”

You slipped the beanie around your head and ears and beamed up at Azriel who looked at you in awe. He couldn’t believe his mate was standing in front of him wearing something he made, the blended blue yarn matched the color of his siphons and your sapphires.

As you thanked him, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, and Elain arrived at the balcony at the same time, Rhysand had ordered them to stay inside until he permitted them. The ladies’ eyes flew to your head, they kept their cool but inside, they were grinning like a mad person. It was time to fly down, and you found yourself wanting Azriel to be the one to carry you. You sound ridiculous, you thought. With a smile, you asked Cassian to do the honors and he obliged, as he took off, you missed the apologetic smile he shot to Azriel who just landed on the balcony after bringing Mor down.

Since the males had a meeting with Azriel’s spies, the girls gave you a tour of Velaris. They showed you their favorite shops, the Sidra, and the Rainbow neighborhood which you immediately loved. Seeing the soft smile on your face, Feyre ordered molten chocolate for everyone as you all stood and watched the street musicians. You watched the children laugh and dance and you couldn’t help the tears in your eyes. Feyre, who was in a particularly playful mood, dragged her sisters closer and made them dance with her. Mor hooked her arm around yours and made you sway to the beat as you watched all kinds of faeries dance. These precious fae were what you helped protect in the war, you endured so much so they could have this. At that moment, that hollow feeling in your chest felt a little smaller.

Dawn Court had a city similar to this, it’s in the process of rebuilding but you knew that someday it would be just as cheerful as Velaris. You walked into a bookstore that the group must frequent a lot because the shopkeeper knew everyone’s name. They introduced you and the shopkeeper and patrons stared curiously. Despite wearing the necklace, the alluring darkness of your magic still lingered around you, your beauty drawing them in. The group dispersed to look for their genres, by the time you arrived at the romance section, Nesta was already there with books in her arms. You and Nesta laughed, and she even gave you a few recommendations. By the time you were to meet with the boys and Amren for lunch, you all had shopping bags filled with clothes and books.

Rhysand took you to his favorite restaurant, the view from the window was beautiful and the ambiance was refreshing. Azriel pulled out a chair for you to sit on and you bit back a smile when you saw he placed himself next to you. You were in a much better space after the great morning you had, you were able to laugh and chat a little bit with the group. Something you did notice was Lucien and Elain. They sat across from each other and Lucien would try to talk to Elain, his eyes pained when Elain gave him scraps. You sat near them so it was hard to ignore the couple, you could no longer take the awkwardness, so you pulled Lucien and Elain into a conversation. You asked him about Autumn Court and how he grew up and asked what it was like to grow up in the human territories. They both were grateful for your intervention, both proactively asking questions about yourself so they could avoid each other.

When everyone was watching Cassian and Nesta bicker, you took a sneaky glance at Elain and studied her and Lucien. Ignoring your mate seems cruel, you thought. This was why you hoped the bond hadn’t snapped for Tarquin, and you hoped it would never snap for you. You didn’t want Tarquin to go through this. Guilt ran through you at the thought of the male, but you couldn’t help it. It was cruel that he was your mate and you felt nothing for him.

After lunch, everyone goes their way, either to do more shopping, see a show at the theater, or run errands. It left you and Azriel alone to come up with your own plans. You don’t see it but Feyre shoots Azriel a thumbs up as his eyes shoot out daggers, begging his High Lady to stop. Azriel asked what you wanted to do, truthfully you wanted to lie down and sleep, but you were in a new city and a guest, it would be rude for you to mope around. You suggested walking around and Azriel nodded, happy that you wanted to do more.

Against your protests, Azriel carried your shopping bags, you only had two, but the male was insistent. He showed you his favorite spots in the city and even brought you to a blacksmith he liked. The shop was filled with knives, daggers, swords, and other metalwork. You liked his work so much, that you purchased this dagger with an obsidian blade and intricately carved hilt that you found in some random corner of the store. The price was hefty, but you had the money, and the dagger called to you, so you had to have it. Azriel smiled at your purchase, the dagger you chose was older than you and him combined, and the obsidian material was the same as his Truth-Teller.

Finally admitting you were tired, the two of you sat on the benches by the Sidra, the sound of the flowing water easing your weary mental state. A couple passed by you and Azriel, they’re holding hands and talking loudly in their own world. You watched how completely unaware they looked, if you threw a pebble at them, you don’t think they’d notice.

“You look like you want to shove that couple into the river,” chuckled Azriel.

“What makes you say that?”

Azriel poked the side of your downturned mouth. “Dove, you’re scowling at them.”

Realizing he was right, you huffed as you neutralized your expression.

“So I take it that you still hate love?” said Azriel. He emphasized the word so dramatically that a giggle escaped your lips.

Your gaze returned to the couple, they were laying out a picnic blanket, working in practiced tandem as they set their food up. It was cold outside, but it didn’t even look like it was bothering them, the mere presence of their significant other was enough to warm them thoroughly.

“I don’t hate love… I just have a problem with what it’ll do to someone. Look what it did to my parents…”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” interrupted Azriel. You were supposed to be getting better, not reliving your painful past.

“It’s alright, I can talk about them. My mother was the second-born of High Lord Lydo, her older brother was Thesan’s father. She was also a powerful healer, she had a specialty with bones, and she could fix any break. My father was the Peregryn Commander, and he was fierce and strong, and everyone was afraid of him. They were married and mates, so in love and inseparable to the point their top priority was each other and I was always second. When I was a teenager, an enemy of the Court had captured my father. No one was having luck finding him and my mother wanted to search for him, but I begged her not to go. I had this horrible feeling in my stomach that something bad was going to happen, but she was so distraught that she ignored me. She led a search party and that was the last time I saw her alive. A few days later, soldiers came back to Dawn carrying their bodies. I was 16 years old when this happened,” you said fiddling with your fingers.

The shadows swarmed around you, feeling your distress, and intertwined themselves in your hands.

“Growing up, my parents loved each other more than they loved me. My mom chose to go and left me behind. Some may think I’m selfish for holding a grudge for this long, but I can’t help it. We had our best warriors and spies searching for my father, yet my mother chose to leave me behind knowing the risks. I think that’s selfish.”

Azriel gaped at you, he was in pure disbelief. No wonder you were the way you were, you’ve been angry and bitter for years.

“Two incredibly powerful people, yet their bond made them vulnerable. That’s why they’re dead. They put each other over their duties. Over me,” you paused to control your trembling voice. “To me, that’s abhorrent, it’s weakness.”

Azriel was quiet for a long time, his handsome face twisted into a frown as he absorbed all the information you gave him. “You don’t have to be like your parents. I’ve seen mated couples do a phenomenal job at keeping a balance between work and their life. Look at Feyre and Rhys, they’re doing great.”

It was hard to do with all your layers on, but you turned to the side and brought your legs up to lean on the bench. Fully facing Azriel, you looked at him thoughtfully “You’re a warrior and spy, I’m sure you know how hard it can be to focus when your family and friends are on the battlefield, how much more distracting is it when your lover is out there too?”

Azriel’s head cocked to the side. “Yes, there’s a risk of being distracted but I think it’s the opposite,” he said carefully planning his words. “I think knowing someone out there is waiting for you… protects you. It makes you fight harder because you know you must go home, it’s not an option to die on the battlefield.”

You nodded as you tried to understand what he meant. Your memories flashed back to seeing Azriel fighting on the battlefield. “It’s too much distraction, all it takes is one bad split decision and then everything goes to shit!”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

You slammed your hands onto the wood beneath, your mood switching up once again as your words spit out like fire. “Because of you, you idiot! I saw you on the battlefield and some creature came up from behind and you didn’t notice. That millisecond it took to decide to help you, led to me getting stabbed and almost having my wing ripped off! Now I can’t even fucking fly because that's what happens when you get distracted, Azriel!”

You were panting and didn’t realize you were standing up and you didn’t even care that other fae were staring.

Azriel gawked at you, his mouth opening and closing. When words failed, he just stared at you in silence as you slumped down and covered your face with your hands. Azriel felt guilt creep up, he had no idea that’s what happened.

You were in a daze; you didn’t even realize how much you cared about the shadowsinger until now. The shock on his handsome face seared behind your closed eyes. Your chest burned and you didn’t know what to do, how did you not realize you were beginning to care for Azriel in that way?

You stood up and picked up your shopping bags, without looking him in the eye you said, “Can we go back to the house?”

Azriel was stunned. You had just admitted that you cared for him in a way that scared you. By the looks of your reaction, he didn’t want to do or say anything that would agitate you more. He knew he was treading on a fine line; this was something you needed to deal with yourself, and it was you who had to come to terms with your feelings.

“Okay,” he said as quietly and gently as possible.

He waited for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he scooped you up, his arms under your knees and back. He unfurled his wings and shot up to the skin. Your embrace was tight as you watched the city shrink, you looked out to the surrounding mountains and pain flooded your mind. Your emotions made your magic struggle against the sapphires that dampened it. You were confused about your emotions and now you were being reminded of why you should never let them get in the way.

If only your wings worked, you’d be able to explore these mountains yourself and escape your thoughts. Feeling defeated, you closed your eyes and leaned on Azriel’s chest as exhaustion took over.

Azriel spoke up not being able to deal with how much anguish you were in. “You’ll fly again. I was serious when I said I would help you.”

You nodded as tears escaped, a shadow chittered and caressed your face.

a/n: Thank you for reading! lmk what you think, lets fangirl down in the comments!

taglist❤️: @inloveallthetime , @phoenix666stuff, @books-and-lit

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x y/n #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #acotar #acotar x reader

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thatapologisttoyourantis · 2 months

Text

Credits to hyperfix4ted on TikTok & art credits to Mads Schofield

Cassian felt entitled to Nesta.

He wanted a Rhys & Feyre relationship without actually wanting a Nesta.

Nesta wants Cassian but Cassian wants a tribrid combination of Feyre, Mor & his former Illyrian lover.

He wants a Rhysand and Feyre type of love but isn’t willing to do the basics which is to defend & have her back even against his own brother.

He wanted a mate. Not Nesta.

Cassian had nicer thoughts about Mor and Feyre than he did about Nesta. Unless it was about her body and even then it was overly sexual instead of complementary.

He wanted the closeness and the intimacy of Rhys and Feyre’s mating bond. He didn’t care if it was Nesta or someone else. Nesta loves Cassian and Cassian loves having a mate.

Cassian loves that he has a mate. Not Nesta because to him he is a product of rape, an Illyrian basturd born brute who against all odds survived & was then cauldron blessed with the one thing he thought he would never get & he was not going to let Nesta stop him from having what he dared dream & hope for.

#anti nessian #anti cassian #free nesta archeron #pro nesta #nesta archeron #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sjm critical #anti inner circle #nesta supremacy #nesta deserves better #and yes you can hate Nessian and still love Nesta #if SJM does a rejected mates I hope it ends up being Nessian #in a way it upsets me because I used to love Cassian and then I realised his trash and abusive behaviour

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year

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A request for you if you feel so inclined 🥹 this doesn’t need to be romantic unless you want to spin it that way. What if cassian or azriel at one point saved an Illyrian girl from getting her wings clipped and from that point forward she idolizes them. Every time they stop by her camp she’s always there to greet them with whatever sweets she baked that day (she helps out in the kitchens at the camp) and asks them about their missions and adventures, if they’re sleeping well or eating enough and just overall doting on them. (And then if there’s a romantic twist, one day she goes to greet them and the bond snaps and she just fumbles over whether or not to offer the cookies she made that day because wouldn’t that be WAY too soon to accept a mating bond? 👀) Maybe she wants to be trained as a Valkyrie but her parents won’t allow it. maybe the girl is devlon’s daughter? But doesn’t have to be! This was a lot sorry lol (love love LOVE all your work by the way 🥰)

Mere coincidence?

Summary: Y/n never thought she would ever be treated like more than trash. So it's a surprise when one of the most powerful men in the entirety of Prythian saves her.

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A/n: hey darling, I love this so much❣️😌. Also, don't worry about it. I love when you all send me asks, especially when it has a lot of things to work with 😉

Also, I mostly try to go with someone who isn't Azriel when you tell me to choose because there's a lot of azzie stuff that I have and not enough for others Bois so I hope it's okay.

I kept this one short because I didn't want to keep you waiting. I'll be writing a part two soon. Please let me know what you think about it!

Anyways, that's all. Enjoy!

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Everything was flying downhill, which was not the best choice of words, as in a moment, she would never be able to fly.

She tried again to loosen the bonds on her wrists, all in vain. She'd been tied here since dawn, and it was now afternoon. They did this all the time to females, just to make them feel more helpless. It made them feel like they had time to escape, but they didn't.

There weren't many female who had been able to get freed of the bonds on their wrists, but the few who did? They were shot down before they could even reach flying heights.

Y/n looked around. No one paid attention to her, as if she didn't exist. Maybe for them she didn't. It was common occurrence that a female, sometimes more than one, would be tied to one of the posts in the center of the camp. It was only her today.

Snow crunched behind her, and she stiffened. Her father walked around her to her front, kneeling. He studied her for a moment before standing.

"Get the equipments." He called out to someone behind him.

"Yes my lord!" The Illyrian said before running off as a crowd gathered.

She stared at him.

Her father.

But that's not what people thought of when they talked about him. No, what came to mind when people saw her father was a great warrior. That he was the Lord of the camp.

Lord Devlon.

"What are you looking at girl? Staring like that wouldn't spare you."

"I know. I'm not stupid enough to think that." She lifted her chin. Which was not the right choice, as her father looked on the verge of chopping someone to pieces. That someone being her.

But she didn't care. Being chopped to pieces was preferable to losing her wings. There was nothing she was scared of, because no matter what she did or didn't do, her wings were going to be clipped today.

She could be a brat, or she could be the most innocent and naive female, who would do anything the males asked of her. It wouldn't fucking matter, because in the end, the thing that mattered most to her, she would be stripped of.

When two Illyrians came to turn her around, she stood before they could touch her. She didn't want anyone touching her. Even if she was going to her death, she would go by her own two feet. She will not be dragged anywhere by people who had to belittle and hurt females to feel powerful.

She stood and, maintaining eye contact with her fuming father, and turned away, baring her back and wings to him, flaring them wide.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then a footstep sounded. Another and then another.

She took a deep breath, readying herself for the pain and anguish when she felt the cold press of the tools on one of her wings. She bit her tongue when the tool started slowly digging into her back, awaiting the–

A loud thump echoed through the still and silent crowd, and slowly people started dispersing. She blinked, daring to turn her head to look when the tool left her back. Her father was thrown on the ground, and the people who were still standing next to them gasped.

What the hell?

She turned as much as she could, and she found herself staring into the hazel eyes of the General of Night Court.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice low and raspy. She nodded, not knowing what to do with the fact that this male was talking to her. He nodded, slashing through the bonds on her wrist with a dagger before turning back to her father.

"Touch her or her wings again and you'll be carcass before you can blink."

Hey father snarled, trying to get up but before he could even get one leg under him, the General was on him, landing punch after punch on his face.

She stood there shocked. Why the hell was the General here? And, why in the hell was he saving her?

As she stared, wondering if she should do anything to save her father, totally not enjoying the show, another Illyrian landed nearby. This new arrival pulled the General off of her father.

A hint of disappointment entered her, but she chided herself for thinking that way.

Y/n watched as the two Illyrian murmured furiously to each other, and then the one with the blue siphons turned to her father.

"I believe you understood what he wanted to say. Don't make us repeat ourselves. The High Lord will be here shortly."

"He didn't send–"

"No he didn't. But who do you think owns this place, and, indirectly, your life?"

"Curse you, you bastards." The two Illyrians looked as indifferent to her father's insult as a cat to its owner's affection.

The General then walked to where she stood, his siphons casting a light red glow over his form and his immediate surroundings. "Are you sure you are alright?"

She nodded numbly, staring at the absolute giant of a man.

"Stay away from her you disgusting pig!" Her father spat as he climbed to his feet.

The General cocked his head, sharing a look with the Spymaster before turning away.

"Mind your language Devlon. I'll be back to check on her. And I swear to the Cauldron, if she is hurt or loses her wings, I will act on my promise."

Why the hell would he do that?

Her father barked at her to get back to her duties, cursing and grunting as he left with a few Illyrian men.

But Y/n stared after the General and Spymaster's retreating forms, clutching her left elbow with her right.

Wondering if it was a mere coincidence that they had arrived just before she lost her precious wings.

She didn't know why the General cared enough to threaten to kill her father if her wings were clipped, but she did know one thing.

She would fight. For herself and her life.

She wouldn't just sit back and take whatever the males threw at her, making herself smaller to feed their egos.

She had always tried to not be a nuisance to her father or any others, having always thought that she was worth nothing.

No. She wasn't the one who thought that way. She had been forced to think that way by the ideals and traditions that had been embedded in their minds.

And now, she would fight.

She would endure anything thrown her way, and she would face it.

She will train with the men. Of course, after she finished all the chores assigned to her.

And if she died in the process of her rebellion?

Then she would have died for a great cause.

•○🌑○•

Part 2

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess

#cassian #cassian x you #cassian x reader #acosf #cassian acotar #cassian acosf #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #Valkyrie #illyrian #Illyria #night court #General of night court #lord of bloodshed

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shadowqueenjude · 6 months

Text

Rhys's death scene but if Rhys lost his powers. Rhys was dead. There was only silence in my head as I began to scream. The emptiness in my chest and soul at the lack of the mating bond echoed throughout my body as I shook the lifeless one before me, screaming at him to wake up, wake up- He remained cold and lifeless, and Mor was there, Azriel too, who was being supported by Cassian. He had used all his power to remake the Cauldron. He had saved the world-all of Prythian- at the cost of his life. Thunder boomed from the sky, as if the world itself was mourning the loss of a great power, a High Lord. This was so much worse than the world ending; the prospect of having to live without him. Unthinkable. Insupportable. My chest constricted so much that I could not even breathe. Someone's hands were on my throat, but I didn't even feel them. I turned to the gathered High Lords and snarled, "Bring him back." They stared at me blankly. I screamed, "BRING HIM BACK!" Still nothing. My breaths returned, heavy and ragged. I got out, "You did it for me. Now do it for him." Helion said carefully, "You were a human. It is not the same." "I don't care. Do it." I prepared my daemati powers, unsure whether I would be able to invade all seven High Lords' minds at once, but prepared to try. Tarquin stepped forward, orb in his hand. "For what he gave," he said quietly. Tears began to fall in earnest down my face as the orb glowed against Rhysand's pale skin. Helion stepped forward next. Kallias. Thesan. Beron simply stood there until Mor abruptly lay her sword against his throat. "I do not mind making one more kill today, she said." He threw her a withering glare, but shoved off the sword and stepped forward. He chucked his orb at Rhys like he was throwing something into a trash can. I tried to will an orb into my hand, but nothing appeared. "Tell me how," I croaked, looking to the other High Lords. Thesan launched into a long boring speech about the core of power that I painstakingly listened to, until finally, an orb of life appeared in my hand. I placed it against Rhys, watching it disappear against his skin. Then, I realized what was missing just as he appeared. Tamlin.

He stood there, summoned by either the death of a fellow High Lord or one of the others around me. He was splattered in mud and gore, his new bandolier of knives mostly empty. He studied Rhys, lifeless before me. Studied all of us—the palms still out. There was no kindness on his face. No mercy. “Please,” was all I said to him. Then Tamlin glanced between us—me and my mate. His face did not change. “Please,” I wept. “I will—I will give you anything—” Something shifted in his eyes at that. But not kindness. No emotion at all. I laid my head on Rhysand’s chest, listening for any kind of heartbeat through that armor. “Anything,” I breathed to no one in particular. “Anything.” Steps scuffed on the rocky ground. I braced myself for another set of hands trying to pull me away, and dug my fingers in harder. The steps remained behind me for long enough that I looked. Tamlin stood there. Staring down at me. Those green eyes swimming with some emotion I couldn’t place. “Be happy, Feyre,” he said quietly. And dropped that final kernel of light onto Rhysand.

I didn't let go of his body, praying that the light worked, waiting and waiting and waiting, recalling every moment we had spent together. I dare not hope, dare not believe that the magic had worked- Then, I felt it: his heartbeat. Then his body began to stir. Then there was a groan, and his violet eyes opened. "Is...this...hell?" he grunted. "Or perhaps heaven, since I'm with all of you." I laughed giddily, pressing my lips to his. "You're alive. You're alive," I breathed against his skin. Cassian let out a broken laugh. "My powers..." Rhys murmured, his fingers flexing against my back. "Shh, don't worry about that right now," I replied, rocking him back and forth. "Feyre...my powers are gone." Oh, magic works in mysterious ways. In the time that Rhysand was dead, his magic had been returned to the earth, and given to someone else. Which meant...he was no longer High Lord. And I was no longer High Lady. The only question was... "Who?" I voiced the question no one else dared to ask. "Who rules Night now?" "Feyre! Feyre! Are you alright?" Elain's voice rung in my head as she rushed forward, my eldest sister in tow.

My jaw dropped. "Why are you staring at me like that?" Nesta demanded, hands on her hips. "What the hell happened here? Why are you all fawning over Rhysand? "Oh my god," Cassian whispered, and he dropped to his knees. Then Tarquin. Tamlin. Helion, with a cocky grin as he did so. Thesan. Kallias. Viviane. Awe was stark on Tamlin's face. Even Beron had a cruel smirk on his face as he willingly, willingly bowed, to the next ruler of the Night Court. "Why is everyone kneeling? What is going on?" Nesta snapped, as Elain herself knelt before her. "Yes, please explain what the fuck is going on," Rhysand groaned, still on the ground. "Sit up, and maybe you'll find out," Beron crooned. The bastard was actually enjoying this. He'd rather anyone but Rhysand rule Night, clearly. With a grunt, Rhysand slowly sat up, and his jaw also slackened. "Oh, no fucking way," he muttered. "By the Cauldron-"

I couldn't speak. I could barely even think. Some strange, ancient magic compelled me to turn away from my newly revived mate, towards the simmering woman in front of me. Kneel. Kneel. Kneel. "I do not accept this," Rhysand said loudly, fury apparent in his voice. "Anyone but that bitch-" "Shut the fuck up," Cassian snarled at him. Rhysand snarled back. I knelt before her. Nesta Archeron stood there, an aura of silver around her, her hair floating above her head in a corona, and there was no noise in the clearing besides Rhysand's constant cussing. She had always been a queen, a Fae incarnate, even back in that cottage. Was this truly a shock to anyone but my mate? Beron, that cruel smirk still on his face, announced, "Cauldron-gifted, Cauldron-Made, Kingslayer. All hail Nesta Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court." Nesta still looked confused. She looked down at herself and seemed to realize her body was glowing. High Lady, she mouthed the words to herself. Then, she looked straight at Rhysand, who still looked outraged. And she smiled like a viper.

@sonics-atelier

#rhysand #nesta archeron #fanfic #pro nesta archeron #nesta queen of queens #high lady nesta #rhysand gets wrecked by nesta

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jeannineee · 1 year

Note

Hi! If you are still taking request could you do one with Cassian just being really protective? Like, maybe the reader is scared about something and Cass takes care of it? I love your writing so much!

Scared

Cassian x Reader

a/n: requests are open!! And thank you, anon!!

warnings: reader has arachnophobia, fluff, VERY suggestive at the end (18+ probably)

The sound of your screaming sent Cassian flying out of bed, sprinting to the bathroom, still in a sleepy haze.

“W-What?” Cassian’s eyes darted around the bathroom, in full defensive mode, searching for a threat.

You stood entirely on the counter, eyes wide fear.

“There is a fucking spider in the bathtub.”

Cassian relaxed entirely, breathing out a sigh of relief. He pressed his lips to your forehead, stubble brushing against your skin.

“Thank gods,” he said, grabbing a cloth from beside you.

“Thank gods?”

“Yes. I thought you were being mauled or something,” Cassian replied, smashing the spider with the cloth in his hand, tossing it into the trash can. “Turns out, it was just a spider.”

“It was just a spider,” you echoed mockingly. “They’re terrifying.”

Cassian laughed, his arms encircling your waist from where you still sat on the counter. “I wonder what our friends would think if the intimidating y/n could be bested by an arachnid.”

“I’ll kick your ass if you ever tell them,” you muttered, wrapping your legs around him.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Cassian pecked your lips, lifting you off the counter. You clung to him as he carried you to the bed.

“I was trying to take a bath,” you said as Cassian laid you down, your breath hitching as his calloused hands trailed up your thighs.

“It can wait,” Cassian replied, calloused hands trailing up your bare thighs. “You’re about to get all sweaty, anyway.”

“Oh?”

Cassian grinned. “Mhmm. I think I deserve a reward for killing that spider for you,” he said, grabbing your hips, and flipping you onto your stomach.

You didn’t protest. In fact, you lifted your hips off of the bed, arching your back, baring yourself for him. “Take what you want.”

Your mate didn’t need to be told a second time.

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #Cassian acotar #acotar cassian #Cassian x reader #Cassian fluff #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acofas #Cassian #General Cassian

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lovemyromance · 6 months

Text

So Elain & Azriel can't be in love and their dalliance in the bonus chapter was just a show of lust because why would SJM write such an integral part of Elain's story *not* in her book?

But Elain is secretly obsessed and in love with Lucien and that's why she avoids him and feels uncomfortable around him because she <checks notes> feels too much for him and he SEES the real her (despite never yk.. being around her to get to know her even).... and all this happened off page *not* in Elain's book?

🤨

Make it make sense.

Every day I see Gwynriels & Eluciens bending over backwards and playing a game of twister just to disprove Elriel by honing in on one or two words

Ex: When Elriels say Elain has embraced the fae culture she respects their traditions and the antis were quick to say "well she said THEIR traditions not OUR traditions 🤓". As if Elain didn't grow up human and isn't familiar with fae traditions yet but cares enough about her friends and family that she respects them regardless....

Or when they try to use other characters' out of context behaviors / actions to overwrite Elain's own thoughts and desires

Ex: Cassian saying Elain looks bad in black in the Court of Nightmares apparently trumps Elain herself saying she's a part of this court.

Or when they purposefully ignore clear foreshadowing

Ex: Majda saying a mate would be able to figure out what's wrong with Elain, and Azriel figuring out she was a Seer (despite Lucien being right there) meant nothing. And that Azriel was just excited to get a weapon for the night court?

Or when they pretend they don't see the first half of the bonus chapter

Ex: Azriel would beg on his knees for a taste of her

Or when they act like pivotal Elriel moments meant nothing

Ex: Azriel risking his life to save Elain in ACOWAR, Elain kicking the naga off him with her bare feet, mf TRUTH TELLER

Or when they trash Azriel's character by making extrapolations based on out of context text just to claim he doesn't care about Elain

Ex: Antis saying Cass & Az were drawing sticks to take care of Elain, when in reality they were drawing sticks to decide who would have to go to Hewn City and who would have to stay in Velaris. They turned a case of FOMO into "Azriel pities Elain and thinks she sucks and has to be forced to spend time with her LOL". That's gross. He has always been the most respectful batboy, especially to Elain. He literally sits with her in the garden and reads his reports - does that sound like someone who doesn't want to be around her?

Eluciens & Gwynriels are literally this living meme??

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #pro elain #acotar #elain x azriel #elain #antielucien #antigwynriel

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marshmellowrio · 7 months

Text

Flight of the Night | Chapter 4

A/N: A bigger one, this scene goes on forever, ughh. This hasn't been proofread, like every other chapter I have posted (oops?).

Word count: 3.5K

I watch as Feyre addresses Azriel, “How did you meet?” Azriel turns to look at Cassian, I follow his gaze. Cassian is a way better storyteller than Azriel, that’s fact.

“We all hated each other at first.” A grin ghosts over his lips as he starts, his eyes flickering between the four of us, Illyrians. “We are bastards, you know. Az and I. The Illyrians… We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in clans and camps deep in the mountains of the North, and do not like outsiders. Especially High Fae who try to tell them what to do. But they’re just as obsessed with lineage, and have their own princes and lords among them.” He holds my gaze before continuing, pointing a thumb in Azriel’s direction. “Az, was the bastard of one of the local lords. And if you think the bastard son of a lord is hated, then you can’t imagine how hated the bastard is of a war-camp laundress and a warrior she couldn’t or wouldn’t remember.” I see the casual shrug of his shoulders for what it is, a way to dampen the vicious, ancient anger raging through his veins at the thought of his mother. “Az’s father sent him to our camp for training once he and his charming wife realized he was a shadowsinger.”

“Like the daemati,” Rhys says to Feyre, “shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things other can’t.”

Something I have been wary of for centuries. Being secretive around Azriel was a feat not easily accomplished.

Cassian continues, “The camp lord practically shit himself with excitement the day Az was dumped in our camp. But me… once my mother weaned me and I was able to walk, they flew me to a distant camp, and chucked me into the mud to see if I would live or die.”

“They would have been smarter throwing you off a cliff,” Mor snorts.

“Oh, definitely,” Cassian says, his grin sharpening. “Especially because when I was old and strong enough to go back to the camp I’d been born in, I learned those pricks worked my mother until she died.”

A silence falls, simmering anger hanging like a cloud in the air.

“The Illyrians,” Rhys cuts in smoothly, “are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.”

Azriel’s vacant eyes lock on mine, my face schooled in a stone-cold expression.

“They’re barbarians,” Amren says and neither of the males object.

I keep silent as Mor nods. “They cripple their females so they can keep them for breeding more flawless warriors.”

Rhys cringes. “My mother was low-born, and worked as a seamstress in one of their many mountain war-camps. When females come of age in the camps—when they have their first bleeding—their wings are… clipped. Just a small incision in the right place, left to improperly heal, can cripple you forever.” I tell myself to keep breathing, keeping the memories at bay and listen to the story. A story I’ve heard countless times, but never becomes easier. “And my mother—she was gentle and wild and loved to fly. So she did everything in her power to keep herself from maturing. She starved herself, gathered illegal herbs—anything to halt the natural course of her body. She turned eighteen and hadn’t yet bled, to the mortification of her parents. But her bleeding finally arrived and all it took was for her to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, before a male scented it on her and told the camp’s lord. She tried to flee—took right to the skies. But she was young, and the warriors were faster, and they dragged her back. They were about to tie her to the posts in the center of camp when my father winnowed in for a meeting with the camp’s lord about readying for the War. He saw my mother trashing and fighting like a wildcat, and… The mating bond between them clicked into place. One look at her, and he knew what she was. He misted the guards holding her.”

“Misted?” Confusion laces her voice. As Cassian chuckles sharply.

Rhys floats a lemon wedge into the air and flicks his finger, turning it into citrus-scented mist. I lean forward to catch the look on Feyre’s face, she takes misting entire beings better than I did the first time. She hasn’t seen him do it yet, but the insinuation of it, was enough to make me still when I realised the extent of Rhys’s powers.

“Through the blood-rain,” Rhys goes on, “my mother looked at him. And the bond fell into place for her. My father took her back to the Night Court that evening and made her his bride. She loved her people, and missed them, but never forgot what they had tried to do to her—what they did to the females among them. She tried for decades to get my father to ban it, but the War was coming, and he wouldn’t risk isolating the Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him.”

“A real prize, your father,” Mor grumbles. I cast my head down, he never did me wrong. But his methods could be…harsh.

“At least he liked you,” Rhys counters. “my father and mother, despite being mates, were wrong for each other.” I grimace, I sometimes wonder how often a mating bond is set between two beings while they’re not right for each other. “My father was cold and calculating, and could be vicious, as he had been trained to be since birth. My mother was soft and fiery and beloved by everyone she met. She hated him after a time—but never stopped being grateful that he had saved her wings, that he allowed her to fly whenever and wherever she wished. And when I was born, and could summon the Illyrian wings as I pleased… She wanted me to know her people’s culture.”

“She wanted to keep you out of your father’s claws,” Mor says, swirling her wine. Azriel finally looks away from me and I let loose a breath, his memories finally clearing. I have no doubt I was involved in that memory from the way he had stared for the past few minutes.

“That, too,” Rhys adds drily. “When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war-camps. To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained. And like all Illyrian mothers, she shoved me toward the sparring ring on the first day, and walked away without looking back.”

“She abandoned you?” I understand Feyre’s deduction but it still has me narrowing my eyes.

“No—never,” Rhys says, with as much ferocity as I felt for his mother’s memory. “She was staying at the camp as well. But it is considered an embarrassment for a mother to coddle her son when he goes to train.”

Cassian laughs, catching the look on Feyre’s face. “Backward, like he said.”

“I was scared out of my mind,” Rhys admits. “I’d been learning to wield my powers, but Illyrian magic was a mere fraction of it. And it’s rare amongst them—usually possessed only by the most powerful, pure-bred warriors.” His eyes flit to me and I give him a lopsided grin. “I tried to use a Siphon during those years. And shattered about a dozen before I realized it wasn’t compatible—the stones couldn’t hold it. My power flows and is honed in other ways.”

“So difficult, being such a powerful High Lord,” Mor teases.

Rhys rolls his eyes. “The camp-lord banned me from using my magic for all our sakes. But I had no idea how to fight when I set foot into that training ring that day. The other boys in my age group knew it, too. Especially one in particular, who took a look at me, and beat me into a bloody mess.”

“You were so clean,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “The pretty half-breed son of the High Lord—how fancy you were in your new training clothes.” I snort, I can totally imagine young Cassian thinking like that.

“Cassian,” Azriel’s dark voice cuts in, “resorted to getting new clothes over the years by challenging other boys to fights, with the prize being the clothes off their backs.” The flatness in his voice revealed how much he cared for the Illyrian ways.

Cassian chuckles, he had a completely different experience, just as horrifying, but different. “I’d beaten every other boy in our age group twice over already, but then Rhys arrived, in his clean clothes, and he smelled… different. Like a true opponent. So I attacked. We both got three lashings apiece for the fight.”

From my side of the table, I see Feyre flinch.

“They do worse, girl,” Amren cuts in, “in those camps. Three lashings is practically an encouragement to fight again. When they do something truly bad, bones are broken. Repeatedly. Over weeks.”

“Your mother willingly sent you into that?” Feyre asks with a soft voice. She has a lot to learn about Illyrians and their customs, I think to myself.

“My mother didn’t want me to rely on my power,” Rhys says. “She knew from the moment she conceived me that I’d be hunted my entire life. Where one strength failed, she wanted others to save me. My education was another weapon—which was why she went with me; to tutor me after lessons were done for the day. And when she took me home that first night to our new house at the edge of the camp, she made me read by the window. It was there that I saw Cassian trudging through the mud—toward the few ramshackle tents outside of the camp. I asked her where he was going, and she told me that bastards are given nothing: they find their own shelter, own food. If they survive and get picked to be in a war-band, they’ll be bottom-ranking forever, but receive their own tents and supplies. But until then, he’d stay in the cold.”

“Those mountains,” Azriel adds, his hard gaze locking on mine again, “offer some of the harshest conditions you can imagine.” I know he still feels guilty about what happened to me, but I only duck my head not being able to bear his loaded gaze.

“After my lessons,” Rhys ignores the exchanged looks, “my mother cleaned my lashings, and as she did, I realized for the first time what it was to be warm, and safe, and cared for. And it didn’t sit well.”

“Apparently not,” Cassian takes over. “Because in the dead of night, that little prick woke me up in my piss-poor tent and told me to keep my mouth shut and come with him. And maybe the cold made me stupid, but I did. His mother was livid. But I’ll never forget the look on her beautiful face when she saw me and said, ‘There is a bathtub with hot running water. Get in it or you can go back into the cold.’ Being a smart lad, I obeyed. When I got out, she had clean nightclothes and ordered me into bed.” She had done some good for all of us. “I’d spent my life sleeping on the ground—and when I balked, she said she understood because she had felt the same once, and that it would feel as if I was being swallowed up, but the bed was mine for as long as I wanted it.”

“And you were friends after that?”

“No—Cauldron no,” Rhys says. “We hated each other, and only behaved because if one of us got into trouble or provoked the other, then neither of us ate that night. My mother started tutoring Cassian, but it wasn’t until Azriel arrived a year later that we decided to be allies.”

Cassian’s grin stretches as he reaches around Amren to clap Azriel on his shoulder. A sigh falls from the shadowsinger’s lips and I smile fondly at the two of them. “A new bastard in the camp—and an untrained shadowsinger to boot. Not to mention he couldn’t even fly thanks to—”

I clear my throat interrupting him as Mor lazily cuts in, “Stay on track, Cassian.” He looks at the both of us, the apologize clear in his eyes, but he shrugged feigning indifference to Feyre. Mor kept her eyes on Cass as I shifted mine to Azriel, noting the tense shoulders and faraway look in his eyes.

“Rhys and I made his life a living hell, shadowsinger or no. But Rhys’s mother had known Az’s mother, and took him in. As we grew older, and the other males around us did, too, we realized everyone else hated us enough that we had better odds of survival sticking together.” Cassian finishes their story and I turn to Feyre.

“Do you have any gifts? Like—them?” She jerks her chin to Azriel and Rhys.

“A volatile temper doesn’t count,” Mor says and I grin at her, sometimes I wonder if we spent too much time together. Or if it’s Cassian that’s so predictable.

“No. I don’t—not beyond a heaping pile of the killing power. Bastard-born nobody, through and through.” I lean forward at the same time as Rhys, but Cassian continues, “Even so, the other males knew that we were different. And not because we were two bastards and a half-breed. We were stronger, faster—like the Cauldron knew we’d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys’s mother saw it, too. Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight.” I roll my eyes at that.

“Males are horrible creatures, aren’t they?” Amren says.

“Repulsive,” Mor clicks her tongue and I laugh softly.

Cassian only shrugs. “Rhys’s power grew every day—and everyone, even the camp-lords, knew he could mist everyone if he felt like it. And the two of us… we weren’t far behind.” He taps his Siphon with a finger. “A bastard Illyrian had never received one of these. Ever. For Az and me to both be appointed them, albeit begrudgingly, had every warrior in every camp across those mountains sizing us up. Only pure-blood pricks get Siphons—born and bred for the killing power. It still keeps them up at night, puzzling over where the hell we got it from.”

I feel Feyre’s eyes slide to me, probably remembering I am pure-blooded Illyrian. Cassian notes her gazing as well and confirms her suspicions. “ This fucking priss of a lady, as Rhys said, is the only pure-blooded Illyrian out of the four of us.”

“Shouldn’t you let her tell her own story?” I raise an eyebrow at Azriel’s low voice intercepting.

“If you are wondering,” I turn to Feyre properly. “I am not one of those, born and bred for that killing power.”

“You were bred for it.” Cassian intercepts, pointing out the fault in my statement.

I hum lowly, “While that may be true, sadly, for my parents anyway, I was born female. Not the son they wanted. My father is a camp-lord,” I see Feyre mentally note the present tense. “Although I was bred to kill, he wouldn’t allow me to train. He’s very traditional in that sense.”

Feyre’s gaze moves to my wings, trying to see if I bear any clipping marks, not that she’d know what to look for. Her scrutiny makes me tuck them tighter against me, straining the muscles as usual. “I haven’t been clipped.” Her gaze snaps up again to meet mine, my face void of emotion. ‘Rhys’s mother helped me in that matter, got me the illegal herbs she used herself when she was younger, stalling my cylcle. She helped me, along with these three, get away when my first bleeding came.”

“You got away.” It’s not a question. I frown, it doesn’t feel like that.

Cassian says, “Oh, she got away, alright.” Amren shoves his broad shoulder and I’m thankful for her respect for me.

“Something like that.” I respond to Feyre. Rhys and Azriel flinch in unison, I might’ve never actually talked about it, but they know.

Feyre furrows her brows, not able to hide her curiosity as to what went down all those years ago.

I don’t answer her questioning gaze, opting to stare at Rhys instead, I do not want to get into that with her on her first day with us. No matter how open Cassian is with her.

Azriel breaks the silence, taking over another part of the story. “Over a decade later, the War came. And Rhys’s father visited our camp to see how his son had fared after twenty years.”

“My father,” Rhys says, swirling his wine, “saw that his son had not only started to rival him for power, but had allied himself with perhaps the two deadliest Illyrians in history. He got it into his head that if we were given a legion in the War, we might very well turn it against him when we returned.”

Cassian snickers. “So the prick separated us. He gave Rhys command of a legion of Illyrians who hated him for being a half-breed, and threw me into a different legion to be a common foot soldier, even when my power outranked any of the war-leaders. Az, he kept for himself as his personal shadowsinger—mostly for spying and his dirty work. Turns out he already had Lyss in his tight quarters so she didn’t pose a threat to him. We only saw each other on battlefields for the seven years the War raged. They’d send around casualty lists among the Illyrians, and I read each one, wondering if I’d see their names on it. But then Rhys was captured—”

“That is a story for another time,” Rhys says sharply, making me lift my brows. We all had our boundaries in sharing past memories. Cass might be the most open one but that doesn’t mean he’ll tell her everything, there are some things even he wouldn’t tell her upon first meeting. “Once I became High Lord, I appointed these five to my Inner Circle, and told the rest of my father’s old court that if they had a problem with my friends, they could leave. They all did. Turns out, having a half-breed High Lord was made worse by his appointment of three females and two Illyrian bastards.”

“What—what happened to them , then?”

Rhys shrugs. “The nobility of the Night Court fall into three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they joined her court and later found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have since tolerated a half-breed’s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.”

“Are they—are they the ones who live beneath the mountain?” Feyre asks.

“In the Hewn City, yes. I gave it to them, for not being fools. They’re happy to stay there, rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.”

“The Court of Nightmares,” Mor says as all are faces grow tight, thinking about that horrid place.

“Ans what is this court?” Feyre gestures to all of us, and the darkness clears.

It was Cassian, who answers with bright eyes, “The Court of Dreams.”

Feyre contemplates for a moment. “And you?” She says, and I know it’s directed to us females.

Amren merely says, “Rhys offered to make me his Second. No one had ever asked me before, so I said yes, to see what it might be like. I found I enjoyed it.” Always a person of little words.

Mor leans back in her seat and I focus on her. “I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares,” Mor says, twisting a curl around a finger. “So I got out.” I almost scoff at the simplicity of that statement. Her escape from the Hewn City was as simple as mine from the Illyrian camp.

I take a breath, “My father was camp-lord when those three were in the camp. Cassian was a nuisance, he followed me around everywhere to annoy my father. Even as a five-year-old he knew how to get on someone’s nerves.”

Cassian’s grin only reveals truth as he takes over. “And when Rhys and Az came to the camp, they joined in.” I purse my lips at his statement. “But she had fire, handed our asses to us, multiple times. Her father might’ve not let her train, that didn’t mean she didn’t find a way to do so anyway. Slowly, the annoyance turned into acceptance that we weren’t going to leave her alone as long as it meant pissing off her father.”

“He still seethes whenever we join her in the camp.” Rhys adds.

I smirk, “He still seethes because I outrank him now.” I hold Feyre’s gaze and see she knows there’s more to the story than what we’re telling, so I give her another crumble. “I am Cassian’s Second, Colonel of the Illyrian armies.”

A/N: Let me know what you thought! Maybe any theories on how this story is going to progress? Obviously this is a romance fanfic (I'm sorry if you didn't realise that already), but I wanted to give my character some depth and not just have her exist because of her love interest. Do keep in mind this is a slow-slow-burn. It will be some time before we will be happy go lucky, not to say that there won't be any tension. Because there will be, a lot of it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please leave a comment saying so!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar #acotar imagine #acomaf #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #azriel #cassian #rhysand #rhys acotar #morrigan #mor acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #cassian acotar #flight of the night

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