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daycourtofficial · 9 days ago

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The Devil’s Familiar

Pairing: Eris x Azriel | WC: 1.7k | Content Warnings: forced submission, boot worship, collar and leash, choking, a muzzle, sexual slavery, violence

Summary: A prosperous time for Autumn has blossomed in the wake of Beron’s death. The new High Lord has an exotic pet sitting at the foot of his dais.

Author’s note: happy gift exchange @secret-third-thing!! This is one of my gifts for the @acotargiftexchange (the second one will drop later today, I can’t give you everything all at once hehe)

Read it on AO3 or below the cut

It was a prosperous time for Autumn. The days seemed almost brighter, as if the sun had been afraid the past few centuries to shine too brightly on the land. Trade was rich - merchants flowed in and out of the court, bringing back beautiful fabrics and textiles to sell. Crops grew in abundance, the land providing enough food for the masses for the first time in a millenia.

“Preparations for the meeting of the High Lords are underway, High Lord.” The advisor’s eyes moved quickly, looking down at Eris’s feet before looking back up at his face. His words had stuttered when he looked down, his tone correcting when he caught Eris’s eye once more.

“We are rotating staff schedules to ensure there are plenty on hand but kept out of sight. Groundskeepers are tending to the landscape, ensuring we showcase the best of Autumn.” He shuffled on his feet, nervousness rolling off him in waves. His voice had gone up an octave, a terribly shrill tone that grated on Eris. The High Lord’s face remained blank, giving nothing away to his advisor, who kept rambling to fill the silence.

“We have ensured several maids will be in to clean every inch of the gathering room. They will carefully check every inch of the room, ensuring there are no marks or etchings.”

Movement on the lead caused Eris to tug his hand, not even acknowledging the beast. Green eyes looked down to Eris’s feet, fear etched across the planes of his advisor’s face.

“Do not pay him any attention.” A command from Eris that sent a chill through the advisor.

“Sir-“

“He is my pet, he must learn to behave. Continue as if he’s not here.” A low growl came from the High Lord’s right. An act of defiance Eris was quick to squash - his hand tugged quick and hard on the lead, an inch of space between the collar and ground. He settled the weight of his boot on the lead, keeping his pet in place. He watched his advisor try to ignore the hard breathing between the two, trying to pick up where he had left off.

“Yes, well we will also have some carpenters check the table and chairs, ensuring everything is perfect.”

“Was it not perfect when it arrived?” Eris’s words were short, anger flaring through him. He wasn’t sure what angered him more - the years of training his pet who was acting as if this was all new to him or the advisor accepting uninspected or imperfect goods.

“No, High Lord, forgive me. They just wish to ensure their work has held up.” The advisor’s voice tremored slightly, wavering with what Eris could only assume was fear. The High Lord couldn’t ignore the annoyance bubbling in his gut as he saw the darkness in his peripheral vision, the pools of shadows lazing on the floor beneath him.

“Go - ensure everything is working as it is supposed to. If there are any issues with what these males were paid for, leave them in the dungeons for me to speak to.” The advisor nodded, one last glance at Eris’s feet with what looked like pity before quickly leaving the room.

Eris leaned further back into his seat, spreading his legs in the now empty hall. One boot remained on the lead, the other propping onto the Illyrian’s back. He threw the full weight of his leg onto his back, uncaring as his boot brushed wings. The body beneath him shuddered at the contact.

The remnants of the former Night Court laid under Eris’s foot, his heavy boot inches from the former spymaster’s face. Azriel had been acting up for days, almost a week now. It started small - a wing twitch here, shifting on his knees there. But the past two days he had gotten out of control - his earlier growl had been the last straw.

Ten years was a long time to get to this point. It had been his most challenging conquest yet, a task only those with centuries of breaking in hounds could understand.

Eris knew this for what it was: the shadowsinger’s last stand, unwilling to accept the High Lord of Autumn as his master. It was a last act of defiance, so pitiful Eris wanted to laugh it off. He couldn’t allow himself to do that - he had to be rigorous and strict with his training.

It was how he had gotten Azriel this far, sitting at his feet, nothing more than a dog waiting for a command.

Eris leaned forward, his long hair swaying as it brushed across Azriel’s head. His fingers were almost gentle as they grabbed the back of Azriel’s head before grasping the curls, keeping his head in place. Azriel’s breath created condensation on the boot, his breath hot on the leather.

“Pray tell what that sound was that came from you.”

Azriel remained silent, his dark eyes focused on the brown leather to avoid Eris’s gaze. After a moment of silence, Eris moved his grip from Azriel’s hair to the collar, tilting his head upwards to look into his hazel eyes. Eris had a tight grip on it, pulling the leather against Azriel’s throat. Azriel strained against the collar, desperate for air but Eris kept a strong hold on him.

“You will speak when spoken to.”

Azriel was gasping now, his lungs desperate for air. He could hardly register his own wheezing, the edges of his vision going black as he accepted his fate. He did not struggle - his arms remained steady on his thighs, not breaking his stillness for even a moment.

It would only make things worse.

Before unconsciousness could consume Azriel whole, Eris relinquished his tight grip, the collar slacking around Azriel’s throat. The hall was empty, the shadowsinger’s gasps for air echoing around the room, almost impossible to discern if he was glad for the reprieve or mourning an easy death.

Azriel remained hunched at the bottom of the throne, his hands lying flat against the ground.

Eris sat back in his throne, spreading his legs apart. The toe of his boot reached up, pointing Azriel’s chin to look up at him. Shadows lounged lazily around the pair, hardly stirring from whatever concoction of faebane Eris used to keep Azriel’s powers contained.

“Prove you’re sorry.”

Azriel remained silent, but the former spymaster’s silences had become a form of wordless language Eris had become fluent in. He loudly placed his shoe on the ground in front of Azriel’s bowed body, the smack of his sole echoing through the room.

“Lick it.”

His brows narrowed, one last spark of defiance in the spymaster's eyes. Eris reached for the lead, sparring Azriel into action. He leaned before Eris, planting his hands on the floor around Eris’s boot.

“Kneel lower.”

Azriel felt his throat tighten as he lowered his head, shame moving through his body with unnatural speed. His breath puffed out, creating a fog over the tip of the leather.

“Good pet.”

Painfully, Azriel stretched his tongue out, his breathing hard as he tried to control the icy rage he felt. Shame ran through him as his tongue met the polished boot, looking up at Eris as he did so.

The air grew heavy with the scent of Eris’s arousal - it smelled like sex and smoke, a distinct scent Eris had been training his pet to sniff out for months now.

It hadn’t been easy turning the shadowsinger into the image of submission he now was. As the years went on and Azriel became more trainable, Eris grew a brighter gleam in his eyes.

He was the proud owner of a most ambitious creature.

Eris held Azriel’s gaze, delighting in the war he could see behind the shadowsinger’s eyes. What had once been strong defiance, a cold rage simmering amidst the brown and gold hues, he found what was almost acceptance. Bordering on resignation, even.

Eris smirked down at him, keeping his eye contact for several minutes before finally commanding, “you may stop.”

Eris was quick to reach his hand out, gripping Azriel’s chin in his hands. Faces inches apart, Eris sneered at who he once considered his greatest adversary.

“I gave you too much freedom too quickly, hmm?” Azriel remained silent, that one last spark of rage and fury laid in his gaze.

“I thought we were past this. I am well equipped for the task.” Eris held a look of nonchalance as he winnowed the muzzle into his hand, not reacting to the soft whimper Azriel let out before him.

Azriel had been misbehaving for days - testing his limits once more. Eris knew he would have to resort to the muzzle again, a tactic that sobered Azriel up quite well.

It wasn’t just the muzzle that drove Azriel wild - Eris had been careful this past week. Anytime he felt aroused, he’d rub his cock over the inside of the muzzle, allowing his strong musk to permeate every inch of the item. When he was done, he kept it in a small trunk, ensuring the scent would linger.

He couldn’t help the smirk as he covered Azriel’s mouth and nose with it, watching his pet’s eyes darken at the intoxicating scent of himself.

“Your High Lord,” Eris paused there, something in him stirring watching Azriel’s eyes at the words, “has matters to attend to. To prove yourself again, you’ll stay here. Not moving an inch.”

Azriel moved to a more upright position, closely resembling a dog waiting for its master to return. Eris stood up, the finery of his clothes glinting in the sunlight. His boots clicked through the hall as he moved further and further away, getting closer to the door.

“Heel.” Azriel stayed next to the throne, resembling a broken down gargoyle in the silence of the room. Centuries of training, teaching his body how to be silent and still, all to become nothing more than a piece of furniture.

His shadows lazed around him, practically pooling down the steps up to the throne, avoiding the spot where light cast on the floor. The sun shone through the windows, the light wanting to watch the shadows submit to a new master.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears 🫶🏻

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Azris taglist: @chunkypossum @the-darkestminds @mistandmemories @molcat07

#azriel x eris #azris #azris fanfiction #azris supremacy #eris x azriel #eris vanserra fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger fanfiction #eris vanserra x azriel #azriel x eris vanserra #acotar writing

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chairofchaos · 6 months ago

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When the Blood Burns

Blood (Part 1)

Burns (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves drawn together during the first war with Hybern. (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit (see warnings- I mean it. I can give details in DMs if you want specifics before reading)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: violence, homophobia/homophobic violence (if you want details my DMs are open), graphic depictions of wounds and wound care with a very rudimentary understanding of the subject, alcohol use, and much less important than the others but still concerning: unedited.

A/N: Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for once again providing me with the perfect divider for this fic. Shoutout to @unanswered-stars forgiving me permission to do whatever I want with this request. And please know I tried to make it short. But now it's almost 10k so this is part 1 of 2. Maybe 3.

Their first meeting was unremarkable. Azriel, blinded with rage over Eris’ rejection of Mor and the ensuing pain it had caused his family, thought nothing of the young lord other than how callous he had been, and avoided him under the orders of his High Lord.

So the first time they had truly met was in a war tent five years and seven months into the war with Hybern. Eris stood with his elder brother behind Beron’s seat at the round table. Rhys and Azriel stood shoulder to shoulder behind Rhys’ father. When the High Lords had dismissed their advisors for a recess in planning, somehow only Eris and Azriel found themselves walking outside.

They were silent. Azriel scanned the passing troops for any sign of Cassian. It had been three weeks since either he or Rhys had seen him, but there was a chance, stationed here near the western battle grounds, that they would encounter him. Still, even Azriel’s shadows hadn’t been able to locate his brother.

The shadows' presence was thin. There were only so many he could task, only so many he could control. Only a fraction of his usual cloud of shades stayed with him. Still, they whispered to him.

“The Autumn lord watches you,” they hissed. They seemed less concerned than intrigued. It wasn’t often people stared directly at him, and yet when Azriel turned his head, the lordling was staring, openly and with no concern.

“Can I help you?”

Eris shrugged evenly. His face was impassive, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care Azriel would notice the shuffle of his feet. “No.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have something you want to say.”

Eris’ lips pinched, his eyes darting to the tent entrance. “You have less shadows this time.”

“Yes.”

Eris waited, but Azriel was more patient and well aware that the Lord just wanted him to speak. Finally, Eris sighed. “Are you… well?”

Well? Azriel was… oh. He dared a glare. The lord was nosy. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You have less shadows. That isn’t a symptom of something being wrong?”

“No. It’s a symptom of being at war.”

“Ah,” the lord breathed. “That’s… good.”

Azriel didn't bother to respond before he turned and walked back into the tent. Such an odd male.

Two months passed before they crossed paths again. Azriel had shadow-walked to take a message from his High Lord to the High Lord of Winter. Rhys had been sent away as well. There was little to lure him back, so he would take advantage of the distance between the two encampments to take a night away. It was already after dark. He could safely return in the morning with no one noticing.

Once he retrieved the paper with the instructions, he walked the encampment shrouded in shadows. Here, Winter and Autumn soldiers did not mingle. In fact, the road Azriel walked through the camp was so stark a dividing line he found himself all alone. Except…

“Oof!”

A figure had darted awkwardly from behind a Winter tent. They were looking over their shoulder, and had plowed straight into Azriel.

Azriel snarled, wings flaring behind him to keep himself righted as the figure fell at his feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled, stepping back. His hand instinctively rested on Truth Teller’s handle while he glared at the figure. The road was so dark he couldn’t even see the insignia on the soldier’s tunic.

“I- My apologies.” It took Azriel the time it took for the male to scramble to his feet to place the voice.

“Vanserra?”

“Shadowsinger,” was the response. It was curt in a way Eris’ attempts at conversation hadn’t been previously. Yet this time, Azriel’s shadows said nothing.

“You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I know,” Eris snapped.

“Snippy tonight, aren’t we?” He had been moving quickly, and yet was no longer rushing. It was odd enough for Azriel to order shadows to examine him. It was dark, so it was easy for them to go unnoticed.

“Do I owe you courtesy?” was the bitter response.

“You crashed into me.” His shadows slithered about his ears, talking over one another.

“And I apologized.”

It was then that the shadows’ one-word report made sense. Blood. There was blood gushing from the male’s body. When he paused, Azriel could smell the metallic tang from Eris’ general direction, distinct from the days old blood scent of the camp around them. It was enough to send his shadows into a vague fury, as if they couldn’t decide whether this was something to be concerned about given who the male in question was.

Eris waited, standing there in complete stillness.

“You’re injured,” Azriel finally settled on.

Eris snorted. “And? So is everyone.”

“It isn’t a war wound. This camp has not seen battle in over a week and that wound is fresh.”

“Does it matter?” Eris snapped. “I don’t know why you bother to bring it up at all.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “Because if you’re fighting next to my brother your injury could get him killed. I know you haven’t seen much battle, but from what I’ve heard your father is doing everything he can to keep you on the front lines to get you killed. I’d rather not give him the satisfaction if it means my brother dies.”

Autumn and Night court soldiers had been fighting alongside each other frequently. With Winter replacing Night Court forces in this camp, chances were dwindling, but it wasn’t a risk Azriel was willing to take.

Eris tried a new tactic: complete silence. Still, Azriel saw his silhouette cross his arms defensively. It was a bad move. His hands were pinned where they were, and he was already off balance. Azriel took the opportunity to reach a hand out and shove the male’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

Eris’ sharp intake of breath gave Azriel more pause than he expected. “I’ll tend your wound,” Azriel said gruffly. “I refuse to let you get killed over some stupid fight with a soldier from another court.”

Still, Eris didn’t move.

“You can walk, can’t you? You were doing fine when you ran into me.”

“I’m fine,” Eris bit out. “Leave.”

Azriel snorted. Now he definitely wouldn’t leave the male alone. “No. You’re in more danger like that than you know.”

“And what would you know of it?” Eris all but hissed at him, arms uncrossing to clench against his sides. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Azriel snapped back. “I should terrify you. I could have killed you about thirty different ways in the course of this conversation.”

“You’re not touching my– wound.” Eris’ voice broke.

“You aren’t tending it yourself.”

“I’ll go to a healer.”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “You won’t. Because if your father finds out he’ll use it to his advantage. Why does he hate you so much?”

“I can handle it myself,” Eris’ voice was losing all conviction and confidence.

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I trust you know somewhere safe enough. I’ll get the supplies and meet you there. A shadow will tell me where you end up, or I can winnow us there.”

That seemed to give Eris pause. “I thought shadowsingers did something called shadow-walking.”

Azriel balked. It was rare anyone bothered to know the difference, let alone remark on it. He nodded, then remembered the male likely couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Can we shadow-walk?” Now, the lord just sounded tired.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“North of camp, there’s a glade.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes.” Eris reached his right hand out.

Azriel gripped the male’s wrist roughly with his own right hand, binding their hands together with shadows who seemed all too eager. “Don’t let go,” he warned.

“I won’t.”

A blink and a breath of complete darkness followed before they arrived in the clearing, which Azriel’s shadows had found quickly. A small fire was reduced near to ashes in the center of the glade, but it was more light than the road had held. Eris moved to drop Azriel’s hand, but the shadowsinger shook his head, motioning for the lord to stay silent and wait.

The shadows not binding them together scattered, darting around the trees at the outskirts and winding back to Azriel once they had cleared the area and confirmed its safety. “Safe. Safe. Safe,” was their chorus, one after the other.

When Azriel was satisfied, he sent a third of them for supplies, tasking another third to unroll the lord’s bedroll, which they had found tucked in an oak, next to the fire. Dropping Eris’ hand, he crossed to a small pile of wood at the edge of the glade and collected half of it to bank the fire. Eris stayed where he was, watching silently.

“Come sit,” Azriel ordered, pointing to the bedroll as he squatted to blow at the cinders and coals and encourage what little flame was left to grow, to light the new wood and give them more light and heat. Eris made no move to help him, so Azriel didn’t bother to ask.

With the increasing light, Azriel could see the dark gleaming of what had to be blood down Eris’ thigh as he walked. There was a lot. The side of his leg was saturated to the top of his boot, while the wound seemed to originate near his hip bone. It had to be nasty for Eris to be bleeding that much. That explained why he hadn’t offered to help with the fire, or, better yet, to feed the fire himself with his power. Yet, he walked.

That took strength. Azriel almost found it in himself to be impressed as the male lowered himself gracefully to the ground.

His shadows had begun piling bandages and other important things by Azriel’s side. He sent one of them off in pursuit of a new pair of pants for the lord, who wouldn’t be wearing this pair again without an excellent laundress, and those who could keep secrets were in short supply in a war camp when information was money.

“Take your pants off,” Azriel commanded. Eris winced.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I'll have to cut them off.”

Eris hesitated, his eyes darting to Truth Teller. “Be careful.”

How badly hurt was he, that he would allow Azriel to have a knife that close to his skin, to vital blood supply?

As the light increased, so did Azriel’s concern that the male’s condition may not be as stable as he originally thought. His skin seemed to pale more and more with every flare of the fire. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chilly night around them. And he was obedient. Vanserras, in Azriel's admittedly limited experience, were never obedient. Certainly not to orders given from a Night Court grunt.

As if they sensed his growing concern, shadows dispatched to scan the male again. They returned with whispers of blood and wounds– multiple. Azriel nearly sighed. This was perhaps a bigger job than he anticipated. He sent shadows now to retrieve his own bedroll and bag. He’d be damned if the last thing anyone saw before the autumn lord died was the two of them together, and there was no real way to guarantee he hadn’t been seen with Eris on that road. Damn it all.

“How many wounds are there?” he asked, unsheathing Truth-Teller and setting the supplies beside Eris.

“Just the one.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you die, it’s my wings they’ll come after.”

Eris glanced over Azriel’s shoulder at the reddish membranes which were his constant companion, his pride and joy.

“Three.”

“Only three?”

“Only three,” Eris confirmed.

“Where?”

Eris gestured at his right shoulder, waved a hand over his injured leg, and then looked away.

“That’s two,” Azriel commented. “You’re going to need to take that tunic off, too, but let’s start with your leg.”

Eris laid back. Azriel reached into his boot to retrieve a flask and offer it up. “Whiskey. It’ll take the sting off.”

Eris grimaced, but took the flask anyways, draining what was left of the alcohol from it before handing it back.

Azriel knelt at his side, the fire on Eris’ other side giving him light to work. Truth Teller made quick work of a cut through Eris’ pants from ankle to waist, and Azriel sheathed the blade quickly. When he removed the fabric a barrier which had begun to form to protect the wound would be removed, and he needed to know everything he could before that happened.

“What blade was used?”

Eris blinked at him slowly. He was fading, fast. “A dagger.”

“Was it poisoned?”

“No,” Eris shook his head with conviction.

“Was there anything special about the blade?”

“Standard Winter court issue,” he said.

Azriel nodded. “Alright. This is going to hurt.”

Eris paused, looking at Azriel, then turning his head to the fire. Azriel barely heard the quiet “I know” which followed.

Azriel pulled the fabric of the male’s pants away from him and grimaced. Eris didn't even flinch. The cut went across the male’s hipbone nearly twelve inches to the outside of his upper thigh, getting deeper as if Eris had rolled into the knife to protect his midline.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel ordered as his hands began to move. Damn it all, they were cold. And tired. He was so tired. But he couldn’t let Eris die. For some reason, he needed the male to live.

“No.” Eris countered with a fire he hadn’t shown all evening. It was the first anger Azriel had heard from the male, and it awoke something in him. He dumped three antiseptic potions across the wound. Eris barely moved, blinking up at the stars.

“You could die,” Azriel snarled, pressing bandages against the seeping wound. “Why? You are the son of a high lord. If it was a standard issue Winter court blade it likely wasn't anybody of your status. Why protect them?”

Eris bit his lower lip. Azriel pulled Truth Teller out to cut through what was left of the male’s pants and underwear and remove them. A long strip of fabric wound around the male’s waist, then around his upper thigh, to secure the padding of bandages against the long wound. When Azriel was certain the bands wouldn’t move, he tied them off in a quick knot and looked up at the lord’s face.

His eyes were closed, his face turned slightly toward the fire. He looked slightly flushed, and yet entirely too pale. His breathing was shallow. He needed water. Food, too. He didn’t seem to be interested in answering any more questions. Maybe those things would loosen his lips.

First, the other wounds. The removal of all his clothing revealed a gash along his shoulder, about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, but it was angled, and the skin could be folded back away from the wound. Azriel stitched that one with quick stitches. He would have stitched the large one, but without any indication that it wouldn’t get infected, he was unsure about closing it with the sutures which would solidify by the time the horizon had light on it. An infection growing beneath the skin was much worse than a scar from skin knitting itself back together.

The last wound didn’t immediately present itself, so Azriel had nudged Eris until he grudgingly rolled onto his side.

His bare back was a maze of scars. Azriel was struck immediately by how well his hands blended with the mottled skin of Eris’ back, burns seemingly crisscrossed by the stripes of what had to have been made by a very long, thick whip. It turned his stomach to see just how broken the male’s back was. They weren’t that different in age, and Azriel had his fair share of scars. But this was a level of brutality Azriel hadn’t expected to find carved into the male’s skin. It was no doubt he hadn’t flinched at the stitches, or even the bandaging. He had to be intimately familiar with both.

One wound on his back, a long stripe across his shoulder blade, was red and struggling to close. Azriel stitched that closed, too, before throwing the bandages he had used to wipe the male’s blood away into the fire. Seeming to know it was over, Eris rolled back onto his back. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Azriel grabbed his bag from where the shadows had dumped it unceremoniously behind him and retrieved a tin of dried meat and crackers.

“Eat,” he ordered, setting the tin on Vanserra's stomach. “I’m getting us water.”

Eris cracked an eye open to stare at him. “Fine.”

Azriel ordered some shadows to scout ahead for water, and some to watch over the lordling, as he unrolled his own bedroll next to Eris. Better to have the fire lord between him and the fire, he told himself.

His shadows returned with a satisfactory report, so he went when he was certain Eris would eat more than a bite or two.

On his return, the container sat on his bedroll, half the food gone.

“You should eat more,” Azriel said, nudging it towards him.

Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink, then,” he tried. Eris nodded, reaching a reluctant hand to grip the offered bottle.

He propped himself up on an elbow to drink, and swallowed until he finished the whole bottle with a gasp. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He felt as though he hovered over the lord, but he found himself unsettled. “I’ll take the watch.”

Eris didn’t argue or say they didn’t need one. It would have been a lie neither of them would have accepted. He just nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes again.

Azriel didn’t bother to wake him through the rest of the night. When light began to peek over the horizon, Eris stirred on his own, sitting up with a groan and a stretch.

“Thank you,” he said again.

Azriel nodded. “I need to check your–”

“No,” Eris said abruptly, sitting. “Enough. I will go back to camp, and so should you.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t fight like this.”

Eris smirked up at him. “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Azriel narrowed his eyes.

Eris shrugged, shuffling awkwardly until he was on his feet, even though he panted. “That’s fine.”

“I just spent last night putting you back together. If I hear you undo that work, I’ll kill you,” Azriel protested. Eris seemed to soften at that. “I think you should go.”

Azriel bristled even as his shadows obeyed his silent order to retrieve all his things. “Fine.”

“I’ll burn away any trace of you being here,” Eris assured him, waving a hand at his bedroll. It disappeared.

Azriel nodded. “Check those wounds this morning.”

Eris nodded. “I will.”

When Azriel had his bag and bedroll in hand, he shadow-walked away, Eris not sparing him more than a moment’s glance as he disappeared from view.

Their third meeting was much like the first. Outside a war tent, the Autumn court delegation lingered in hushed circles. Their forces had been hit hard in the last of Hybern’s offensives. No doubt they were reconsidering their participation in the ongoing war, if only to save the rest of their soldiers. Still, from the thick of the fray strode Eris Vanserra, his gait no less even than it had been the first times Azriel had seen him.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch him as he stood outside the tent. They had tightened the circle allowed in. The recent losses had been too stark to eliminate the possibility that someone on the council or one of their advisors was selling information or even was an agent of Hybern. It was no doubt that fact which kept the sons close, and everyone else at a very great distance. Still, Azriel could watch from here. Could keep an eye out for either of his brothers.

Shadows told him nothing of them. Their names were not on the rolls. But here was Eris. Alive, breathing. He would have known if Eris had died. And Eris had not.

“Shadowsinger,” a curt acknowledgement. Azriel nodded firmly in return. No words could explain his relief, even to himself. Eris rolled his shoulders, his embroidered coat restricting his motions. Instead of walking past Azriel, the lord stopped at his side.

“Thank you,” Eris murmured. If Azriel hadn’t been attuned to the male's presence, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was dangerous to speak this openly. Eris had to know that. Surely, a High Lord’s son would know that speaking to the spymaster of another court was dangerous. Surely.

Azriel turned to walk away. He would not risk it, but Eris still tried. “Azriel.”

He spun to face Eris, schooling his face into an angry mask. “What?”

Eris’ eyes flashed with an answering anger, then cooled. “I saw your brother. The soldier.”

This was unexpected. Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How would Eris know he searched for his brothers?

As if anticipating the question, Eris stepped closer. “Your shadows, the ones who stayed, told me. I asked them how I could… repay you. They told me. He’s in the next camp over. Injured, but not badly. Ask for Madja.”

Shadows zipped away from Azriel faster than he could respond. He had left some of them with Eris that morning to ensure the male checked and cleaned his wounds.

Now, Eris watched them go, nodding once, then walking on past Azriel. Eris knew what it meant to see those shadows go out. It was all he had needed to see.

Azriel may not be able to get away on his own, but he could send those shadows. They would find Cassian, who would recognize them and maybe even be able to get away for a day.

More pressing was that the shadows had spoken to Eris. Had deemed him worthy of information about Azriel. That happened so rarely. Only when Azriel was truly in need of something, or on the rarest of occasions, when he was in true danger, would his shadows bother to try to communicate with anyone. Never before had they shared with someone as nonsensical as Eris Vanserra. He would ask them later why. He hoped they would tell him.

Someone was calling his name. It was the middle of the night, and his shadows were rousing him from sleep with a frantic energy. Months had passed since he had seen Cassian, or Rhys. He had only just gotten back from a scouting mission in Hybern that evening. The war still raged, still slowly marching them all toward death.

But someone was calling his name. “Hurry,” his shadows urged him. “Fight.”

The second prompt was enough to speed him. He rarely slept without weapons at hand, and he grabbed two Illyrian blades and strapped them to his back with the speed of a soldier who had been at war for over six years.

Finally ready, he ordered his shadows to take him where they willed. Emerging from their total darkness into the moonless night with Truth Teller clenched in his hand, he found himself at the edge of that familiar glade.

This time, it was anything but peaceful. Eris fought against three warriors dressed in dark clothes, their faces concealed by darkness. Azriel recognized the fighting style more than the clothing, and it was for good reason Eris didn’t bother to use his powers.

In a split second, Azriel shadow-walked to be behind the Autumn court soldiers, disarming one with ease while Eris held his own against the second. Azriel’s blade slid into the side of the throat and was pulled through the front, removing the attacker’s ability to scream as his life faded to a bloody end.

The third spun from Eris to Azriel. He opened his mouth, but behind him, Eris flicked a dagger from his waist, the blade glinting before Azriel saw the male’s head jerk forward. When he fell, the handle of the blade stuck at a perfect right angle from the base of the male’s skull.

As Azriel had drawn Eris’ attention, his moment’s glance to throw the blade had left his left side unguarded. The remaining autumn warrior took advantage of the opening, and launched himself at the lord. His hand closed around the lord’s throat, and Eris was knocked toward Azriel, but Azriel was faster than the other warrior had perhaps anticipated.

In the span of moments, Azriel had removed the male’s hand from Eris’ throat, disarmed him, and bound him hand and feet with a cord he kept coiled in his boot for moments like this. His shadows had been dispatched to guard the borders of the glade.

Eris rubbed his neck as he offered a wad of cloth to Azriel, who crouched beside the bound warrior. Azriel took the fabric and shoved it into his mouth until he was satisfied the male wouldn’t be able to remove it.

“You need to kill him,” Eris said quietly.

“I know,” Azriel said. The male’s eyes settled on Azriel as if he had only just now recognized the winged warrior. He began to scream through the fabric. Azriel’s remaining shadows spun around the warrior, examining him.

“Why do you scream?” Eris asked, crouching beside Azriel. “You chose to attack me. Your death was predetermined.”

The male’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris, then back to Azriel again as his screaming increased in volume.

Eris snorted. “You truly think the death he will give you is worse than the death I could?”

Azriel couldn’t help but watch the Lord of Autumn as Eris stood.

“A word, Azriel.” Eris looked down his nose at the screaming soldier. Azriel stood. They walked some distance away before Eris paused and looked over his shoulder at their prisoner.

“We have to kill him,” Eris said. “He recognized you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Azriel said. “Why did they come after you in the first place?”

Eris sighed. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and got caught doing it. Whether my father sent them or they took it upon themselves, I don’t know.”

Azriel paused. “What, exactly, were you doing?” If Eris was spying for Hybern, if he had used Azriel somehow…

Eris sighed. “I slept with one of their brothers.”

Oh. Oh. Prythian was generally safe for males like Eris. And Azriel. But some families held old ways of thinking that would incense hatred beyond caring that Eris was the son of a High Lord. It was that which kept Azriel hiding. He lacked the protection offered to Eris. Currently, he lacked even the protection of his brothers.

So Azriel just nodded. When Azriel didn’t say anything, Eris sighed.

“How did you come here?”

“My shadows sent me. They were concerned.”

“Have they been watching me?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel admitted. “Sometimes they follow their own whims.”

Eris nodded. “I can handle him.”

“Do you want to?” What was one more body on Azriel’s tally? He’d killed nearly thirty yesterday, getting away from the Hybern guard who had started asking too many of the right questions. What was one more, in the face of the river of blood which had flowed from his hands?

“Not really,” Eris sighed.

“You sound weary,” Azriel dared. After six years he was more than used to the ebb and flow of fights and battles, yet his heart still pounded in his chest.

“I am.”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Eris said nothing in return but bowed his head.

Azriel crossed back to the bound warrior, who had started trying to roll and scramble away from them with whatever faculty he retained. Azriel placed a booted heel against the man’s collarbone, his toes grounded to the earth as he stood above the male.

“I’m going to take out the gag. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what they wanted. If you don’t, I’ll torture you. This is your one chance. Do you understand?”

The male nodded, eyes glinting with starlight and terror. Azriel bent to remove the gag, whispering, “Scream, and I’ll gag you with something much more unpleasant than this fabric.”

He ripped it from the male’s mouth, and to his credit, the male said nothing.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. We came with him,” the male tipped his head at one of the bodies. “His brother died, and when they found his body on the battlefield, that bastard’s scent was all over him.”

“Eris’?” Azriel questioned.

The male nodded. “They were… intimate.” He said it with a snarl, as though Azriel would not know and was being deceived.

“You wanted to kill him.”

“Yes. For that, yes. It’s not–”

“Enough,” Eris’ voice sounded behind Azriel.

Azriel glared at him. “If it’s enough, kill him yourself.”

Eris shrugged. “Fine.”

The male opened his mouth to start screaming again, but Eris flicked his slender fingers. Azriel stepped back quickly as a reddish glow started emanating from the male’s throat and smoke began to billow from his mouth.

Eris was burning him. Burning him from the inside out. The light of life in the male’s eyes was steadily replaced by the glow of that slow burning fire until the male was nothing more than ash in the wind.

Eris turned to Azriel. “Thank you for coming.”

Azriel nodded. Why was he so hesitant to leave? The second the male was dead, he should have walked away. Dawn was nearing again. He would need to be back before the High Lord woke in case he had further questions after last night’s debrief. Six years and ten months of this. Azriel wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

“Thank you for finding Cassian for me.”

Eris smiled at that, not even looking as he lit the other two bodies on fire. “You saved my life.”

“You gave me the chance to see him. It had been a long time. It means more than I think you realize.”

Eris shook his head. “I imagine if I had a brother I trusted I would do just about anything in my power to see him.”

Azriel chuckled at that. “No friends among family?”

Eris sighed ruefully. “I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither. Except–”

They finished the sentence together, “my mother.”

“If you didn’t send for me,” Azriel crossed his arms, “Why did you trust I wasn’t there with them?”

Eris tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “My father has railed against your… proclivities in sexual partners. How he knew, I have no idea. I’ve never even heard whispers of you from anywhere else. I knew, if my father was somehow right, your presence was either on orders or to help me. I was willing to bet you wouldn’t kill me for something we share.”

“Beron knows about me?”

“Somehow. I think he had someone tailing you for a time, after Mor.”

Azriel bristled. He had been careful at 19, but apparently not careful enough. It was likely the best explanation. “You have no idea? Truly?”

Eris shrugs. “I was young when he brought it up. The timing seems right. I never put much thought into it.”

“So you assumed I was safe because of that.”

“No,” Eris laughed, quietly, but unmistakably amused. “No, I mostly assumed you were safe because the last time you saved my life you told me not to undo all of your hard work.”

“What happened then?” Azriel was demanding. He felt as though he was truly seeing the Autumn Lord, seeing him open and unguarded for the first time. Maybe now he could get answers.

Eris seemed to be willing to indulge him. “A winter court soldier didn’t realize who I was until I was on my way out of his tent. He tried to kill me.”

“It seems to me like you’re sleeping with the wrong people,” Azriel commented. Eris finally turned to face him, levelling him with a molten stare Azriel found himself drawn into. “And who are the right people?”

“People who have as much to lose as you do.”

“Like you?” Eris challenged.

Azriel shrugged. “Are you offering?”

Eris smirked, turning to face Azriel. Dawn was growing, and the red light of morning lighting the leaves around him gave him the appearance of a body of molten fire. “If you ever wish to take me to bed, Shadowsinger, show up. I have spells on the glade. It will let me know you’re here.”

Azriel laughed. “Chances are slim, Vanserra.”

“But not zero.” Eris raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a slightly mocking reflection of Azriel’s own stance.

“No.” Azriel admitted. “Not zero.”

#azris #azris fanfic #azris supremacy #eris vanserra #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #eris x azriel #azriel x eris #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x azriel #azriel x eris vanserra #my fics #fictionalchaos #requested #unanswered-stars #when the blood burns #when the blood burns fic

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ysmtttty · 3 months ago

Text

Red Ferrari

Chapter 13

Summary: Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car

AO3 link Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Eris woke up in the morning due to the light filtering through the bright curtains, the pleasant absence of a headache, and the unpleasantly familiar ringtone of his phone. At the same time, Azriel opened his eyes, grumbled that Eris was an idiot for not putting his phone on silent, and reached over to hang up the call before Eris could figure out who was calling.

"For God's sake, it's Sunday. Whoever is calling this early deserves the death penalty," Azriel muttered, tightening his arms around Eris' waist and pulling him closer, burying his nose in Eris' neck. "Go back to sleep."

Eris stifled a laugh and obeyed the command, closing his eyes again and enjoying the warmth beside him. He liked waking up here—even if it wasn't the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in and there was always a risk of getting bedbugs, despite whatever Azriel claimed about their absence. Being next to Azriel, with no rush to go anywhere, and not fearing that someone might break into the apartment was enough for him.

However, his phone rang again, breaking the comfortable morning idyll for the second time. Azriel groaned and bit Eris' shoulder in a small act of revenge for disrupting not just his own sleep but Azriel's as well.

"You're going to need to buy another phone because if it rings again, I'm breaking this one," Azriel grumbled as Eris declined the call. But not even a minute passed before the persistent caller tried again.

"Sorry," Eris said apologetically, thinking it might be necessary to answer the call. In his situation, it could be anyone for any reason.

Azriel rolled his eyes, reluctantly pulling away to give the illusion of privacy. Despite his sleepiness, he watched with interest as Eris' expression turned serious. The soft half-smile from their cuddling morphed into a frown and coldness as he answered the call, responding with short "yes," "no," and "I'll handle it."

Whoever was on the other end of the line at eight in the morning on a weekend, was making Eris tense. Azriel noticed the way his shoulders stiffened, the crease that appeared between his brows, and the way his nails absentmindedly scratched the skin of his hand.

"I understand, I'll be there as soon as I can," Eris ended the conversation, and Azriel was not happy to hear that.

After hanging up and practically throwing his phone onto the bedside table, Eris buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"Who was that?" Azriel asked, pulling his hands away from his face and placing his own palm against Eris' cheek.

"The police," Eris grumbled with annoyance, leaning into Azriel's hand. "Morrigan's father got arrested last night. And since he used me as his lawyer during my marriage to her, he's demanding me as his attorney now as well."

Azriel frowned immediately, not expecting that answer. Sure, he had anticipated some sort of work-related issue—maybe a fire at the office, a troublesome client needing help, or something business-related. Azriel had planned to persuade Eris to leave it until Monday, as the world wouldn't end if Eris Vanserra took a day off to truly rest.

Well, it seemed that apparently it would. Damn rich lawyers and their drama.

"And you can't refuse?"

"He's a client of my firm," Eris sighed in explanation. "I can't refuse without a valid reason. It would cause unpleasant rumors about unreliability."

Azriel reached over and bit his shoulder again, to which Eris only laughed softly, running his hand through Azriel's hair and smiling weakly.

"I'm sure it's just some casino debt issue or something like that. It'll be settled with bail and a few negotiations," Eris reassured, trying to convince himself of that. "I don't think it'll take long."

"So, does that mean I'll still see you today?" Azriel smirked lazily as Eris leaned in to kiss him.

"I plan to exploit your hospitality until you kick me out of your apartment, so yes, you'll still see me," Eris smirked back against his lips.

Then he hurried to get dressed, while Azriel slowly got up to make coffee since his wonderfully busy lawyer boyfriend had to work on a Sunday.

"There's a steamer in the closet," Azriel called from the kitchen, watching as Eris tried to smooth out his shirt and make it look presentable. Eris nodded in thanks and went to the closet, looking for the steamer.

As he figured out how the miracle gadget worked – Azriel had a feeling Eris didn't often iron his own clothes – Azriel whipped up a quick breakfast, knowing this idiot likely wouldn't grab food on the way.

While eggs fried on the stove, Azriel walked around the kitchen, doing most routine things leisurely, and feeling Eris approach and kiss him on the neck. "I can't imagine how I lived before you," Eris joked into his ear.

"You'd walk around in wrinkled shirts with terrible eating habits," Azriel remarked, turning off the stove and facing him.

"I never wear wrinkled shirts," Eris scoffed, tying his tie and deliberately adjusting his collar.

"Oh yeah, you'd just order a new, ironed shirt instead of using the steamer."

"Unfortunately, your home is outside the delivery range of my atelier."

Azriel laughed, plating the eggs. After a quick breakfast and a kiss, Eris left, saying he'd call later when he figured out how long the mess with Keir would take.

***

Eris hated police stations. Mostly because of how many times he had to visit them for work. Even more so because, in his hometown, his last name was often recognized before he even arrived, and the officers would look at him with suspicion and disdain.

Not that he cared what some uniformed idiots thought of him, people who couldn't do their jobs without wasting time.

Ignoring the protests of a few uniformed idiots, he walked straight to the investigator’s office, who happened to be a good acquaintance from their frequent encounters under similar circumstances. The investigator greeted him with only a sullen look.

"That bad, huh?" Eris sighed, closing the door behind him and giving Tamlin a once-over.

"Don't even ask for bail," Tamlin cut him off immediately in an unfriendly tone. "He's being charged with murder, and the evidence against him is overwhelming. There's no way you're getting him off."

Eris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How many times had he heard that phrase, and how many times had he proven otherwise? Still, that didn't mean he intended to try too hard in Keir's case. In fact, he suspected it all coincidentally aligned with things his father had said and his sudden appearance in town.

"With all due respect, it's not your decision whether to grant bail," Eris stated firmly, not letting the condescending attitude toward his skills slide. "The court will decide that, not you. And in the event that my client and I decide to file a bail request, I strongly advise you not to obstruct it. Otherwise, I'm sure you know what will happen. Now," he patted his briefcase, "I'd like to see the case files. I have limited time, and I'd prefer to spend it speaking with my client."

Tamlin’s eyes flashed with anger. Eris met his gaze indifferently, understanding that the man had every reason to hinder his investigation. Keir was a bloated bastard, known by every rat in the alley to be involved in shady business. A man who had been under investigation for years, if not decades, but even then, no one had been able to dig up enough to go to court. The clean-up was too effective. Or the bribes. Probably both.

Eris could only sympathize for three seconds because, with all due respect to Tamlin and his “noble” duty to put criminals behind bars, right now, his own ass was on the line. If Eris had learned anything from years in law, it was that he wasn't defending justice—he was defending himself and getting paid for it.

Considering the stakes were higher than just simple money in this case, Eris wasn't about to dive into who was right or wrong, guilty or innocent.

Tamlin silently pulled a thin gray folder from his top drawer and tossed it to Eris, nearly hitting him in the face. Eris held back, though he could have said plenty in response to the unmistakable gesture—he only smirked crookedly and, flipping through the documents, sarcastically muttered, "Thanks."

All he needed was for the case not to fall into Thesan's hands when it went to court. That would be the real disaster because Eris had learned over the years that Thesan would scrutinize every letter in the documents, and if Keir was indeed guilty and foolish enough to get caught, getting him off would be impossible.

After reviewing the case files and finishing the coffee he ordered at the café across the street, Eris returned to the station. This time, he intended to speak with Keir himself.

"Is he here?" Eris asked the officer, naming Keir and identifying himself as his lawyer. The officer just looked at the computer, taking far too long to type a name that wasn't that long, then poked at it some more before staring dumbly at the screen.

"Yes," the officer eventually nodded. Although Eris had asked because he needed the officer to escort him to Keir.

Eris expectantly looked at the uniformed idiot, who slowly blinked, irritatingly taking a sip from his mug. Beginning to simmer, Eris forced himself to take a deep breath and remind himself that he would be able to leave soon.

“So, will you let me speak to my client?” Eris asked, raising an eyebrow, impatiently drumming his fingers on the edge of the table.

The idiot, as if he had just realized what was being asked of him, suddenly became flustered and nodded, finally getting up from his seat.

“Follow me,” he muttered, and Eris followed him.

They entered the interrogation room, where Eris glanced at Keir, sitting at the table and handcuffed to it. He looked exhausted; the police clearly hadn't wasted time and had been trying to question him for hours. Keir looked as irritated as ever.

Not surprising, though, Eris thought. He probably wouldn’t enjoy spending his Sunday morning in a police station either, asking for help from someone he had recently tried to intimidate.

When the idiot finally left the room, giving them some privacy, Eris pulled out the free chair and took a seat. Seeing Keir in prison clothes definitely brought him some satisfaction, along with a strange amusement at the sight.

“Well?” Eris crossed his arms and looked expectantly at Keir, who only huffed in irritation. “I hope you haven’t confessed to anything,” Eris said condescendingly, spreading some papers from his briefcase.

“Do I look like an idiot?” Keir almost growled, glaring at him with even more frustration. Eris met his gaze indifferently.

“What makes you think I’ll take on this case?” he asked instead, lifting one of the documents. “I don’t take on doomed cases. And from what I see…” He deliberately glanced at one of the security camera photos. “This case is already lost.”

“Beron’s son, undefeated in any case, and here you are telling me there’s nothing you can do?” Keir smirked. “Don’t you think your father will be quickly disappointed?”

Eris chuckled lightly, finding it amusing that Keir actually believed his father’s approval was something he sought. Not in this life, and probably not in any other. Beron was fatefully born to be a terrible father, whose opinion Eris only considered when it threatened physical harm or serious risks that couldn’t be ignored.

But to take into account the approval or disapproval of that old bastard? God forbid.

“I’m innocent,” Keir declared confidently, and Eris just rolled his eyes. How many times had he heard that phrase in his practice?

“All my clients are innocent,” he noted dryly. “Do you have an alibi?”

Keir opened his mouth and then closed it, clearly stopping himself from saying something. “No. I don’t.”

Eris narrowed his eyes, studying him, and then scoffed. “If I do decide to become your lawyer, you must tell me only the truth. Otherwise, I won’t be able to defend you.”

“The truth is,” Keir leaned in, resting his elbows on the table and lowering his voice in an intense tone, “I’m innocent. I didn’t do what these pigs accuse me of, whether I have an alibi or not. And I think you’ll take my case,” he continued after a pause, leaning back in his chair. “Because if you don’t, the consequences might not be to your liking.”

“You’re not in a position to threaten me,” Eris cut in sharply without batting an eye. Keir’s words didn’t scare him, they only made him angrier.

“Actually, you’re not in a position to refuse me,” Keir smirked smugly, trying to gesture with his hands to match his words, but the handcuffs restrained him, and Eris almost smiled. “Ask your father in a few days why Morrigan was granted the honor of becoming part of the Vanserra family.”

There it was. The hint of blackmail Eris had been waiting for. Confirmation of his father’s words, which he hadn’t wanted to fully believe, but here Keir was, behaving exactly as Beron had said he would if those words were true.

“Morrigan will no longer be part of the Vanserra family in a week,” Eris sneered without a hint of humor. Keir clearly didn’t appreciate his words, feeling unsatisfied that his threats were once again ignored. “And I have no doubt that without my intervention, in a week, you’ll have neither influence nor money. I personally doubt those things will matter much in prison. But by pulling the right strings, who knows where you’ll end up, right? Maybe even in the north.”

Eris grinned as Keir jerked forward in anger at his audacity. Of course, few people liked it when someone dug through their dirty laundry and found details they’d rather no one knew. Too bad for Keir that Eris wasn’t lazy when it came to sending his people to dig up dirt on those who dared cross him.

“If I’m not mistaken, most of your enemies are in the northern prison, right?” Eris smiled coldly. “A few drug lords you framed, maybe even entire cartels. I think they’ll be thrilled to see a familiar face.”

“You’re definitely your father’s son,” Keir muttered, and Eris laughed humorlessly.

“One day, you’ll get tired of playing the ‘your father’ card against me,” Eris remarked

Keir narrowed his eyes as if seeing Eris from a new angle. He probably hadn’t expected Eris to come this prepared. However, something told Eris that Keir hadn’t expected to be in this situation at all. There was something about his claims of innocence that Eris, despite himself, believed.

“Your terms?” Keir demanded reluctantly.

Eris tilted his head. “Simple. We sign a contract, and I help reduce the sentence.”

Keir, simmering with frustration, held back another retort. “I don’t need a reduced sentence. I need my rightful acquittal for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“All the evidence is against you. The jury won’t be pleased with your reputation, and even a judge on your payroll won’t be able to help,” Eris said firmly, in a matter-of-fact tone.

He laid out the papers on the table, and Keir stared at them, clearly seeing them for the umpteenth time, judging by the fury with which he glared at the photo of a shadowy figure captured by security cameras leaving the hotel where the victim was killed.

“The victim was a politician and businessman with whom you reportedly had a falling-out over territory disputes. He was killed yesterday at 9 PM in his hotel room. The staff testifies they saw you, and the surveillance footage confirms it.”

Keir grimaced, his eyes sweeping over all the documents with disgust.

“And you think I’m stupid enough to do it myself?” he scoffed indignantly. Eris understood, too, that people like Keir usually handled such matters quietly and indirectly. However, karma did exist, and it often caught up with such people unexpectedly. Even if with the help of people like Beron.

“I think you’re in a pathetic situation,” Eris said. “One I can pull you out of if we sign a contract on my terms. And they will include more than just payment for my hard work.”

“Demanding compensation for physical damage, boy?” Keir sneered condescendingly.

“I’ll demand the destruction of any compromising materials your family has against mine. All of it, including all backup copies. If you violate our agreement, you’ll be liable for an exorbitant fine. And we’re talking millions, which, from what I’ve heard, don’t stay long in your pockets with the speed at which you visit casinos.”

Another wave of anger crossed Keir’s face, which Eris ignored once again. “This includes compromising material held by all your family members against anyone from the Vanserra family.”

“Has your wife got something on you?” Keir guessed.

“Not surprised to find that rottenness runs in the family,” Eris shrugged. “Only on those terms will I help you. If you can’t handle things by the time the trial starts, you can rely on a public defender.”

Keir wasn’t foolish enough to believe he could find a better lawyer, or even a good one, who would be willing to represent his interests in court, given how much evidence was stacked against him. Any sensible person in this situation would say he was on his own, no matter how much money Keir offered. Ruining one’s career with such a case would appeal only to the foolish or greedy.

Eris didn’t entirely believe that a contract would truly prevent Keir from spreading compromising information, which would be difficult to control, especially since Beron would never tell him what kind of dirt Keir had. However, Eris noticed just how much Keir panicked when he mentioned prison placement. A few more well-placed threats, and in his panic, Keir would likely agree to anything Eris asked.

After concluding the conversation, Eris left the police station. He would now have to help Keir, at least by preparing a base of arguments on why the police evidence was insufficient for a conviction—something difficult, but not impossible.

***

When Eris left, Azriel remained in the apartment, unsure of what to do with himself. On any other day, he might have agreed to cover Cassian's Sunday shift, knowing full well how much he hated working on weekends, especially early in the morning. But today wasn’t the day. And… to be honest, Azriel doubted such days would come often anymore.

It wasn’t just because today he wanted to spend time with Eris, despite the fact that even on Sundays, that idiot had to work and had already run off somewhere. The problem lay more in the fact that he no longer wanted to linger at the workshop any longer than necessary.

If Azriel used to practically live for his work, in a good way, not as a workaholic, enjoying time with his best friends there and finding some peace among the familiar and well-mastered mechanisms, he no longer felt the same calm. Now, he wanted to finish his shift early and leave as soon as possible.

Azriel suspected Rhysand was to blame. More precisely, their strained relationship. It had been more than three weeks since he had, supposedly, “forgiven” Rhysand. Yet during this entire period, they hadn’t gathered the three of them together like they used to. Cassian had invited them multiple times, but either Rhysand had urgent matters to attend to, or Azriel himself came up with excuses why he couldn’t make it.

Sometimes these excuses were true, like when Eris told him they were going to a closed car exhibition, and turning that down would have been very, very stupid. But other times, he made them up because…

Honestly, he still didn’t fully understand why. Some sudden sense of discomfort? That was possible.

Despite Rhysand’s attempts to smooth over their conflict, Azriel still felt the rift between them. Every attempt from his best friend to rebuild the bridge between them ended with Azriel simply cutting the ties on his end.

Azriel thought that everything between them would improve. In time. That things would return to the way they used to be, and they’d once again sit at Rhysand’s house, watching sports, laughing at Cassian when he overreacted to certain moments. Or they’d once again discuss their complicated love lives—mostly it was just Azriel teasing the other two because they were such losers in that department, and he sometimes wondered how the Archeron sisters even put up with them.

But the more time passed, the more often Azriel came to the realization that maybe things would never be the same again.

Maybe, at that moment, Rhysand had broken something between them, causing irreparable damage that couldn’t be fixed with simple apologies and a few work-related perks.

That was probably why Azriel ignored his messages more often than usual, taking hours to respond because he needed time to gather the strength to reply at all. And that’s also why he declined their usual hangouts. That’s also why he no longer stayed longer than necessary at the workshop when his and Rhysand’s shifts overlapped.

And yet… there was something sharp tugging at his chest with the realization that over a decade of friendship had ended just like that.

Azriel spent some time in the kitchen, trying to figure out lunch, slightly hoping that Eris would return by lunchtime and finish all his business as early as possible. Aside from the leftover pasta from yesterday, which, despite his love for Eris, didn’t taste the best, there wasn’t anything edible in the fridge.

After improvising with the ingredients and making something like a stew, Azriel went out to the store, since he’d run out of sunflower oil and a few other small things he’d been putting off buying later. And that merciless "later" had finally come.

The weather outside was nasty and cold, with slush on the roads—he hadn’t even heard it rain during the night—clouds overhead adding unnecessary gloom to the day, and a wind that pierced through to the bone despite the jacket he had on. Miserable, in one word.

Azriel was almost at the store when his gaze fell on a figure in the crowd. A figure with cold eyes, staring directly at him, with hair black as night. A figure too familiar, someone Azriel never wanted to see again. A figure of death.

But as he pushed through the crowd, intent on catching the cursed figure, the person had already vanished. It must have been his imagination. It had to be. They couldn’t be here…

Looking around and not seeing anyone even remotely resembling the figure, Azriel sighed in relief. He must have imagined it. Maybe his eyesight was getting worse with age, and he was due for a visit to the ophthalmologist and perhaps even needed glasses.

Still, as he walked home, the unsettling feeling from what he’d seen lingered. A certain tension, a sense of being watched. Azriel brushed off the feeling as he entered the building and then the shower, telling himself they were too far away for the figure to be real.

Closer to lunchtime, Eris called.

"Hey," and judging by the tiredness in his voice, Azriel knew their lunch plans were canceled.

"Hey," Azriel replied. "How’s it going?"

"Terrible," Eris bluntly said. "I’ll be stuck with this case for a while. I’ll be home in the evening, okay?"

"No problem," Azriel answered, carefully hiding the disappointment in his voice. No way he’d burden Eris even more. "Any dinner requests?"

Eris chuckled softly over the phone. "Anything without black pepper."

"Got it. Call when you’re on your way."

Eris responded with a quiet "mhm" and hung up. Azriel sighed, rubbing his eyes and wondering when Eris’s presence in his life had become so indispensable, so important, that now, when he was busy with his own matters, Azriel felt a strange sense of disappointment in his absence.

When his phone rang again, Azriel hoped it was Eris. Just because. Maybe he’d finished his work early.

However, the caller ID showed it was Gwyn, and Azriel picked up, preparing to hear some important gossip about other music groups that Gwyn was too excited about or some rave about a new book—she’d already told her friends about it, but her emotions were still overflowing, and Azriel was a great outlet to vent and recount the entire plot again.

"Yeah?" Azriel smiled as he answered, but the voice that greeted him wasn’t joyful at all.

"Hey, Az," Gwyn said, sounding furious, not in the least bit amused. "I know you’re busy, but can you pick me up from the bar?"

"Something happened?" Azriel frowned, already grabbing his keys and jacket. Gwyn just sniffled.

"No," she snapped. "I’ll explain later. Can you just come, please?"

Azriel promised to be there as soon as possible, and within twenty minutes, he was already standing in the familiar bar’s parking lot, surprised to see Cassian’s car there as well.

Stepping out of his car and meeting his friend, who should have been at work, Azriel frowned even more.

"What’s going on?" he asked seriously, trying not to show his growing concern. Judging by the fact that Cassian wasn’t smiling, things weren’t good.

"No idea," Cassian shrugged, nodding toward the bar’s black back door, which was slightly ajar, letting aggressive female voices spill out. An intense argument was going on inside.

"Nesta asked me to come, so I did, but then she yelled at me to stay out of it."

Azriel wasn’t surprised, but he glanced warily toward the door.

"What the hell, Em?" came Gwyn’s voice—Gwyn, who almost never raised her voice.

"It’s my life, I have the right to make my own decisions," another voice—Azriel guessed it was Emerie’s, though he didn’t know her well enough to be certain.

"Not when it’s a blatantly stupid decision you’ll regret," Nesta’s voice, wound tight with frustration, followed.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged glances, still deciding not to intervene, as stepping inside seemed like a deadly mission, and they both valued their heads staying on their shoulders. However, Azriel at least decided to text Gwyn that he had arrived.

A few minutes later, Gwyn burst out of the building, slamming the metal door so hard that no one would have expected such strength from her. She passed Azriel in silence, getting into the passenger seat of his car.

"I’m heading out," Azriel quietly told Cassian. He just nodded. "Call me if you find out what happened."

"If Nesta doesn’t bite my head off," Cassian joked, but judging by his worried expression, Azriel knew he was more scared for her than of her.

Waving goodbye, Azriel got into the car with Gwyn and silently drove her home. All the while, Gwyn tried discreetly to wipe away the tears that Azriel knew had come from anger. It was a reaction that annoyed her—crying out of frustration. It was uncontrollable and, from what he knew, interfered with her ability to argue effectively.

Without asking anything other than if she wanted to stop somewhere along the way, maybe to get some water or sweets, Azriel drove in silence, trying not to press her.

"Em has a girlfriend," Gwyn suddenly announced, sniffling.

Azriel stayed quiet, giving her the space to talk. Instead, he reached for the car’s control panel and turned the radio on to a low volume.

"She had a girlfriend all this time, and neither Nesta nor I knew anything about it," Gwyn continued with a note of resentment. "For years, Az! She'd been seeing someone for years, and we had no idea because she was hiding it."

"And you found out? That's why you argued," Azriel suggested.

"No, of course not! Even if that's the case, it's her business. Of course, it hurt to find out so late, but she still had the right to keep it private," Gwyn grumbled, clearly trying not to show how much it pained her. "But today she announced that she wants to move in with her. To another country! To another damn continent."

"People sometimes change their circumstances," Azriel calmly said, immediately realizing he should've stayed silent, as Gwyn glared at him. "So, what's the real issue?"

"The issue is that her girlfriend asked her not to tell anyone about their relationship. The issue is that her girlfriend is married to someone else!" Gwyn continued indignantly. "She's freaking married and still asking Emerie to move with her somewhere. Az, come on, it even sounds like some kind of scam."

She gestured wildly, and Azriel tensed a little at the description because it all sounded suspiciously familiar. Slowly, an unpleasant picture began to form in his mind, and he understood more and more why Gwyn was so worried about Emerie.

"I don’t want Emerie to waste her savings on some woman who will deceive her and leave her stranded in another country where we won’t even be able to help."

"And Emerie is resolute?"

"Yes. And it’s not even about Em," Gwyn scoffed. "Her girlfriend is shady. I only needed a few sentences to figure that out. I have a very weird feeling about her and their relationship. I don’t want to meddle in her business, but I also don’t want to lose my friend. This all sounds like a very toxic mess, and I don't like it. I want to protect her from it."

Azriel glanced at Gwyn from the corner of his eye, sensing her turmoil. He knew Gwyn wasn’t one to overreact, especially regarding people she cared about. If she had this strong of a reaction, it meant something was really bothering her.

"And what did Emerie say?" he asked, keeping his voice steady, as if trying to hold back his own unease.

Gwyn let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her hands over her face. "That Nesta and I are overreacting. That it’s her decision, and we have no right to judge her girlfriend without knowing her. She didn’t say it directly, but I could tell she thinks I’m being controlling or something."

"And do you think… Emerie will listen to you?" he asked carefully.

Gwyn paused, her fingers twisting in her lap, her face tense. "I don’t know, Az. Part of me hopes she’ll take a step back and see things clearly, but I also know how stubborn she can be. She’s in love, or at least she thinks she is, and that’s making it hard for her to see the red flags. I just… I just don’t want her to get hurt."

Azriel could hear the worry in her voice, and it tugged at him.

"I don’t think your heated argument will change her decision," he said bluntly, sensing Gwyn hold back from rolling her eyes at his words. However, directness was something they both valued in their conversations, so he continued. "Talk again. In a calmer setting, without shouting. Poor Cassian almost had a heart attack listening to you guys outside. I don’t think that conversation was helpful for any of you."

"It was emotional," Gwyn muttered. "Imagine if I came to you and said that I had a partner all this time and I was moving away with them forever to another country. You’d be worried about me too."

"Of course, I’d be worried, Miss 'Relationships-are-pointless,'" Azriel chuckled. Gwyn reached over and playfully smacked him. Fair enough, he thought. "Kind of like how I was worried when you almost got sucked into that cult."

"I wasn’t getting sucked into a cult!" Gwyn protested. "It wasn’t a cult."

"With all due respect, Gwyn, it was definitely a cult. And back then, just like Emerie now, you refused to listen to the people around you," he reminded her.

It was a scary time. Gwyn had just lost her sister, and Azriel saw how shady people were taking advantage of her grief. He watched as the "support group" started holding meetings on Sundays, and soon, they were attending some temples that regular people had never even heard of. He saw how Gwyn believed in it, slowly sinking deeper and deeper, ignoring his warnings about how strange it all looked from the outside.

Eventually, Azriel convinced her to let him come with her to one of those meetings. Ten minutes was all he needed to hear the nonsense their "leader" was spewing. He punched the guy in the face, possibly breaking his nose or knocking out a tooth—he didn’t really check where the blood was coming from—and dragged Gwyn out of there.

"This is…" Gwyn took a deep breath. "This is different, Az. I was nineteen, not the most rational age. In this case, Emerie just needs to open her eyes to see how sketchy all this looks from the outside."

"Which is hard to do," Azriel finished for her. "You won’t be able to convince her, Gwyn. But you can always be there, so if things go south…"

"When things go south," she corrected.

"When things go south," he agreed, "Emerie will have your support."

Gwyn remained silent, clearly understanding his words, but still not ready to accept the outcome of their argument. Azriel, however, silently prayed that his suspicions about Emerie's girlfriend weren’t true because if they were, he’d owe Gwyn a long conversation, filled with details after which his friend probably wouldn’t stay still.

Damn, he was already ready to step in and try to convince Emerie how bad an idea it was to trust Morrigan. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure it was actually her she was dating.

Azriel drove Gwyn home. She was still emotional but thanked him for a ride. She offered to have him over, but Azriel declined, saying he had plans for the evening, knowing their hangouts often ended with wine, then tequila, and waking up full of regret, sometimes even in another city.

"You used to never turn down an invite," she teased, trying to lift her spirits.

Azriel played along, easing her task. "I’ve grown tired of your company."

"Oh no, you’ve just found a different company," Gwyn smirked, noticing the slight blush on his cheeks from her comment. "Look at that, I’m right. How’s your redheaded friend?"

"Couldn’t be better, always in the middle of some chaos, so it’s never boring."

Gwyn narrowed her eyes but didn’t press him further. "Well, in any case, I recommend more turtlenecks in your wardrobe. I didn’t want to say earlier, but your neck looks quite colorful."

Azriel instinctively placed a hand on his neck and snorted. "Go home, Berdara."

Gwyn only laughed at him and waved goodbye. "See you later!"

Azriel watched her until she entered her apartment complex, and only then did he drive home, smiling as he read a message from Eris that he was also heading back.

tag list: @sizzlingstarlightsky @isnotwhatyourethinking @molcat07 @chairofchaos @lilah-asteria

#eris vanserra #acotar #azris #azriel shadowsinger #azris fanfiction #azriel #azris supremacy #eris x azriel #eris vanserra x azriel

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the-darkestminds · 5 months ago

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Autumn's Shadow: Chapter 12

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

Summary: A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

a/n: I decided to stop posting the full fic on Tumblr, the chapters are getting kind of long and it feels like a lot. So you can find this chapter on AO3 with the link below! I plan (hope) to update once per week now that I have everything outlined. Hope you enjoy :)

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Read on AO3!

Full Chapter List

Tag List: @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @jules-writes-stories @christeareads @chunkypossum @ninthcircleofprythian

#azris #azris supremacy #azris fanfiction #azriel #eris x azriel #azriel x eris #eris vanserra #azris fic #azris angst #acotar fanfiction #eris vandaddy #pro azris #azris fanfic #sjm #azriel x eris vanserra #Eris Vanserra x azriel

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autumnshighlady · 2 years ago

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A Song of Shadow and Flame

Azriel x Eris x reader

summary: Eris and Azriel put aside their differences to give you the night of your life

warnings: smut, literal porn with no plot, threesome, oral sex (m and f receiving), edging, overstimulation, Eris is sadistic and mean, pleasure dom Azriel

word count: 5.5k

y’all loved my separate Azriel and Eris headcanons so as a happy new years gift, here’s an incredibly spicy threesome fic ;) I will be writing a lot more Eris work, probably not as much Azriel since so many people write for him already but I’ll still try! This fic is not proofread and I’m shit at endings so the last bit sucks but I hope you all enjoy the rest, let me know what you think!

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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A breathy moan left your lips as Azriel’s lips brushed against your neck from behind, sending goosebumps down your spine. His scarred hands gently caressed your sides, teasing your skin through the thin fabric of your robe.

“You enjoying this, angel?” Azriel’s deep, velvety voice sounded in your ear, lips lightly grazing the shell of it. Before you could answer, a second seductive, male voice spoke up from across the room.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any denying that, shadowsinger.” Eris Vanserra remarked from his position on the couch. The princeling of the Autumn Court lounged on the sofa in his cream-coloured tunic, unlaced slightly to show off his toned chest. His red hair glowed in the light of the fire, and his smirk was nothing but predatory. After months of fighting over you, Azriel had finally made his move tonight – only to have your first kiss interrupted by a knock on the door. You had expected Azriel to ignore it, but instead he smirked as the door opened and the heir to the Autumn Court strode in, merely gesturing to continue before taking up residence on the sofa.

Thus, how you ended up in this predicament. Azriel’s lips continued to caress your ear, then down your neck, then up to your ear again. His touches were so teasing, so featherlight you wanted to scream at him to just touch you properly. Your pathetic whines had only lead to a sadistic chuckle, and a continuation of the relentless torture.

“Please,” You whimpered, arching into the shadowsinger’s touch as his fingers lightly teased at your skin beneath your robe around your thighs.

“Please what?” Azriel murmured.

Eris chuckled darkly. “Oh come on, Azriel. You’re being cruel.”

“Oh please, as if you’d be any nicer.” He snorted in response.

You whimpered pathetically, wetness pooling between your legs at the thought. You hated the sweet torture Azriel was inflicting on you, but you also loved it so much, and your reaction did not go unnoticed as Eris cocked his eyebrow.

“Something tells me you wouldn’t want me to be nice, would you, little fox?” Eris cooed, cocking his head. “You’re such a good girl, but you’re aroused at the idea of us torturing you for hours on end, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer for a few seconds, only whimpering. It earned you a sharp nip on the ear from Azriel.

“The Prince asked you a question.” He growled.

“Yes!” You gasped. “Yes, please!”

“Please what?” Eris purred.

“Oh come on, Eris.” Azriel said, gripping your hips. “Don’t you think we should give her what she wants?”

With a smirk, the Autumn Court male nodded. As if silent communication passed between them, Azriel guided you over to Eris. When you were mere inches away, he stopped you, letting you stand above the seated figure of the redhead. Your heart raced with anticipation, unsure of what the two males were about to do.

“What do you want, darling?” Eris’ green eyes were swimming with lust as he drank in your flustered figure. “I am feeling particularly generous tonight, as is the shadowsinger. All you have to do is tell us what you desire, and you shall receive it.”

Your throat was dry. Part of you wondered if this was a dream, a cruel dream indulging in your filthiest fantasies and you’d wake up in a few seconds covered in sweat. “I want you both.”

“You want what, with us both exactly?” Eris’ smirk was knowing, and you blushed at the idea of what he wanted you to say. Luckily, Azriel saved you from the humiliation.

“I think I have an idea of what she wants,” He said, gently fiddling with the knot keeping your robe together. “I think that our good girl wants to be fucked like a little slut by the both of us, isn’t that right? Don’t you want to get on your knees before the future High Lord and suck his cock and have him fuck your face? Don’t you want me so deep inside of you that you forget the name of every other male you’ve been with? You want us to ruin you, angel. I know it.”

A fresh pool of wetness dripped down your legs at the shadowsinger’s words. The room was spinning, and if you had your shit together you’d be ashamed of how one kiss, some teasing, and a few words could make you fall apart this much. You nearly shivered at the thought of what else they could do to you….

“Gods, yes!” You whined. “Please, please. Ruin me, please.”

Eris chuckled, setting his drink on the table before leaning forward. His slender hands brushed the back of your knees, gently caressing your thighs. “Good girl,” He purred. “I knew you’d find that pretty voice of yours. I cannot wait to hear what other sounds it can make. I think she deserves a reward for being so brave, what do you say?”

“For once, I agree with you, Eris.” Azriel muttered. “Let’s get this robe off, shall we?”

You nodded, and the spymaster tugged on the strings and the fabric easily fell off your shoulders. Your skin was exposed to the warm air as the robe pooled at your feet, kicked away swiftly by Eris. You now stood naked between the Spymaster of the Night Court and the heir of the Autumn Court – arousal was thick in the air as the males drank in your body.

“Gods, you’re perfect.” Eris groaned, a bulge forming in his trousers. “I can’t wait to see that pretty body of yours covered in my marks.”

“And mine.” Azriel added quickly.

“Let’s not forget whose idea this was in the first place, brute.” Eris snapped, but kept his eyes roaming your body. “You’ll be on your knees thanking me by the end of the night.”

“Or you’ll be on your knees thanking me for not breaking your neck–”

“Please.” You whimpered, cutting Azriel off. You knew the two males hated each other, and didn’t want their bickering to ruin the night.

“Look what happens when we take our attention off her for a few seconds,” Eris muttered, squeezing your thighs and resting his chin on your knee. “Greedy thing.”

“Absolutely pathetic,” Azriel murmured in your ear. “Our little princess is so desperate for us she can’t wait any longer. Indulge her, Eris. Or I will.”

Growling, Eris gripped the backs of your knees and pulled you onto his lap. You straddled his waist, core already pulsing on his bulge. “Mother above, she’s soaked already.”

Without warning, two scarred fingers reached between your legs and plunged into your folds. You cried out as Azriel collected your juices on his fingers, turning your head to look at him. The shadowsinger’s hazel eyes glowed in the light, and his gaze burned into you as he slipped his scarred fingers between his lips, groaning as he tasted your wetness. Your mouth went agape at his action – never before did it occur to you the feared spymaster of the Night Court would be moaning at the taste of you.

Eris, unhappy with having your attention off of him, grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him. He pressed his lips into yours without hesitation, and you groaned into his mouth instantly. Eris tasted like wine and cinnamon, slipping his tongue into your mouth with expert precision as he gripped your hips firmly and rocked them back and forth along his growing length. You whined again as Azriel knelt behind you, pressing hot kisses up and down your spine. Body alight with the extra attention, your shaking hands reached up to grasp Eris’ tunic hard, desperate for something to hold onto.

“Atta girl,” Eris purred against your lips. “Touch me wherever you like, darling.”

You didn’t hesitate this time, moving your hands to the bare skin of his chest and running them along the smooth muscle that was littered with scars. The Autumn prince groaned at your touch, smirking as you marveled in the feel of his skin.

You were surprised he was letting you touch him so freely – you had pegged the prince for a cruel, sadistic lover who took pleasure being in complete control. A bit of disappointment curled in your gut, but only a little – you would never admit it, but you wanted to be completely at their mercy, subjected to the males’ sadistic teasing.

As if sensing your disappointment, Eris pulled away with a knowing smirk that made you want to both slap him and kiss him again. “I don’t think this is what she wants,” He tutted, tilting his head. “Is it, darling?”

You bit your lip, embarrassed. How he could sense your disappointment you did not know, but you felt bad. You didn’t want them to think you were ungrateful, but you wanted them to give you everything they had. As much as you didn’t mind having your body lovingly worshiped, the dark side of you wanted to be tied up and at their mercy completely.

“If you want more, all you have to do is ask.” Azriel hummed, lips working against your shoulder blade.

“I want more, please.” You whimpered, staring into Eris’ eyes. “Use me, I’m yours. Please just…. give me everything.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Eris’ grin was nothing short of fox-like before he turned to Azriel. “I told you we should have done this approach from the beginning.”

“My apologies for wanting to give her a choice in how she wanted it, Eris.” Azriel snapped back.

“Well, I’m just glad we’re getting to do things my way.”

“It’s my way too, don’t forget.”

“I bet she’ll like me better, anyways.”

You snorted at their bickering, which halted Azriel’s response. The gaze of both the males burned into you as their expressions darkened. Wordlessly, the Illyrian male grabbed you from Eris and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. You let out a huff as he tossed you onto the large bed, bouncing on the soft mattress. Both males stalked towards you like predators closing in on their prey, and before you could instinctively close your legs, Eris came up towards your head, and Azriel your legs. Before you knew what was happening, you felt the Autumn prince grab your wrists firmly and place them above your head. A gentle heat encircled your wrists, locking them into place and before wrapping around the railings of the headboard. In contrast, a cooler yet silky sensation crept around your ankles after Azriel pried them apart. You realized that it was his shadows which bound your ankles to the other posts of the bed.

“That’s more like it,” Eris said proudly, stroking a piece of hair from your face. “Is this more what you envisioned, my dear?”

“Yes.” You breathed, heart racing with excitement.

“Excellent. Shadowsinger, warm her up for me. You can go first so that she’s not met with disappointment after her time with me.”

Azriel growled, clearly annoyed by Eris despite their somewhat of a truce. He scowled at him once more before turning back to you. “It’s ok, princess,” He said. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.”

“I want you both, too!” You exclaimed, desperate to have both males on your body at the same time. “Please.”

“All in good time, darling.” Eris hummed, sitting down in the chair next to the bed and propping his legs up on the dresser. “For now, I would like to see exactly what the shadowsinger brute has to offer.”

You nodded, excitement making your body jittery. So many nights had you dreamed of this exact scenario, the two males taking turns before taking you together. Your thoughts were cut off by the sight of Azriel removing his shirt, revealing tanned and chiseled abs and muscular arms with whorls of black ink detailing them. His smirk was more subtle than Eris’, but was evident as he noted your reaction to his bare chest. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.” Azriel purred as he crawled onto the bed. His body was massive over top of yours, heat radiating off him as he placed his arms on either side of your chest. He allowed himself one more look at your flushed face before leaning down and kissing you.

While Eris tasted like wine and cinnamon, Azriel’s lips were like the scent of a cedar forest after an overnight rainfall. You moaned into his mouth, arching your back and begging for more.

“Patience, sweetheart.” Azriel growled. Instead of moving back to your lips, his mouth found your neck, scraping the column with his canines before latching onto the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

You gasped as he nipped and sucked at the skin, knowing damn well he was going to leave a mark where everyone could see. The urge to run your hands up and down his back was killing you, but you were restricted by Eris’ band of flames around your wrist. After continuing his torture for a few more minutes, Azriel’s mouth moved to your chest, making sure to kiss around your breasts before finally wrapping his lips around your nipple.

You cried out, gasping at the contact. Azriel was not gentle, as you felt his teeth graze the bud causing you to yelp. With his other hand, he groped your other breast, kneading the soft flesh with such force you thought you’d explode. Every touch sent an ache between your thighs, and you were pretty sure if you looked down you’d see a puddle on the sheets.

“Gods, I love hearing you whimper like that.” Azriel moaned into your flesh, kissing a path down your stomach. “I can’t wait to hear you beg.”

“I don’t beg.” You shot back in protest. It was a lie, and you all knew it, but you wanted to challenge him a little. Sure, they were in charge here, but only because you granted them that freedom. Both would stop immediately if you told them to, but the glint in their eyes told you that they knew what you were playing at.

“You will.” Azriel promised, moving his head up and nipping the flesh above your breast. “When I touch you everywhere except the spot you want me most, you’ll be begging me to bring you release, won’t you?”

You whimpered again, rolling your hips in effort to bring your core in contact with the intimidatingly large bulge in his trousers. But the shadowsinger saw it coming and quickly pinned your hips down with one hand. The other shot to your throat, scarred fingers trapping it in his palm as he squeezed firmly.

“You’ll get what you want when I give it to you,” He growled. “And not a moment sooner. Behave, sweetheart. Or I have no problem bringing you to the edge all night long without letting you fall off it.”

You nodded best you could as his large hand gripped your throat. He released it moments later. “Good girl.” He said before continuing with his torture.

Azriel placed a pillow underneath your hips, then kissed and nipped the sensitive insides of your thigh. When he reached your center, he merely ghosted over it and switched to the other thigh. You didn’t protest, or tried not to anyways. The thought of him denying you any longer made you want to explode, you needed his mouth on you more than anything.

“I think she deserves a reward for being so patient, don’t you?” Azriel said to Eris, who had not taken his eyes off of the scene before him.

“I think so too,” The redhead male hummed. “She’s been wanting this all evening, give her what she wants and more.”

Before Eris even finished his sentence, the shadowsinger’s head dove between your legs. You cried out as his tongue swept up your pussy, lapping up the juice in your folds. He was eating you out like a man starved, those strong arms curled around your thighs and holding firmly onto your hips so you couldn’t budge. More than anything, you wanted to grip his hair in your hands or press your legs against either side of his face, but you could do neither due to your restraints. It made everything so much more torturous, forcing you to lay there and take it.

When Azriel’s teeth scraped your clit after a few minutes you cried out, feeling the tension in your body climb towards its peak.

“Azriel… Please” You moaned, toes curling. The Illyrian merely groaned, burying his head into your center even more. His lips attached to your clit, sucking and sending you straight over the edge.

Time and space lost all meaning as you came, body trembling as the tension in your core snapped and spread throughout your legs and up your spine. But Azriel didn’t stop, didn’t let you come down from your high. You nearly screamed as he inserted a finger into your hole, pumping gently.

“Fuck!” You groaned. You were so, so sensitive, legs trembling from your first orgasm. But Azriel ignored you, adding another finger and continuing his assault with his mouth. It was almost too much, and you tried to move your hips to relieve the sensation but his grip was too iron-tight.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Eris cooed in mock sympathy from his spot on the chair. “You were begging for this all night, dear Azriel is just giving you what you asked for.”

“You’ll fucking take everything I give you,” Azriel added in that deep voice. “And you’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?”

You couldn’t even form a response as you felt yourself already heading towards another climax after a few minutes. You practically screamed as you fell over the edge a second time, and then a third. It was too much, yet you wanted even more. The edges of your vision were turning black as your body shook.

“Now, now, shadowsinger, don’t wear her out too much,” Eris chided, noting your exhaustion. “I still have my turn with her before you get another chance to make her cum.”

Begrudgingly, Azriel detached his mouth from your core. His beautiful face was coated in your juices as he stood up, licking his fingers clean before sending another glare at Eris. The Autumn prince stood up, gesturing for Azriel to take his seat. You noticed how Azriel’s pants were strained against his bulge, and you squirmed, desperate to relieve his neglected cock.

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to enjoy the shadowsinger’s cock later,” Eris purred. “But for now, you get me. I’ll make you forget all about his cock, do not worry.”

You could hear Azriel snort, but he remained composed regardless, watching Eris crawl over top of your body. His long fingers stroked your sides as he hummed. “Azriel was too forgiving with you.” He hummed. “He promised you would get what you wanted, yet you were a greedy little whore and demanded it from him anyways. The spying brute might let that slide, but I do not. You will take exactly what I give you and you will not complain or demand. But I will not deny that I shall love to hear you beg, and that is exactly what you will do. You’ll be begging for me like a good little slut, won’t you?”

You whimpered at his words, earning a sharp smack to your thigh.

“I think Azriel fucked you dumb,” He hissed. “Because I recall you knowing full well that I do not like repeating myself. So answer me, pet, will you be begging for me like a good little slut?”

“Yes!” You cried out, the teasing of his fingertips driving your already sensitive body crazy. “I’ll be your good little slut I promise, please just touch me, please.”

Eris chuckled darkly. “There we go, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He said before turning to Azriel. “See what happens when you don’t let her get away with being demanding? Just a minute and she’s already begging to obey me. Watch and learn, shadowsinger.”

If it were any other circumstance, literally any other, you suspected Azriel would have knocked Eris onto his ass for that. But he just bit his lip, ignoring the prince’s remark – you admired his restraint.

Before you could think, Eris plunged two fingers into your already drenched hole. You cried out, shifting as much as you could in the restraints as his long fingers curled inside of you, instantly finding the spot that made you see stars. If Azriel’s method of torture was his skilled mouth, Eris’ was his torturous fingers. They pumped in and out of you, thumb brushing your clit.

“Is this what you wanted, little slut?” The lordling taunted, laughing as he gazed down at your flushed face emitting pathetic whimpers. “From the moment your lips met mine I knew you wanted this, to be tied up and utterly helpless as we fucked you until you screamed. You’re such a good, polite girl in court who’s been dying to be put in her fucking place. We both saw right through the innocent act, and look at you now. Laying there letting us do whatever we please with your body.”

Eris continued to pump his fingers relentlessly, pressing on your clit and murmuring more filthy phrases in your ear. You felt yourself reaching your peak again, legs twitching as you climbed to it faster than ever before…

Only for Eris to withdraw his fingers seconds before you came. Frustrated, you cried out, angry at his denying you your release. He laughed darkly from above you.

“Oh, pet,” Eris chuckled. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you? Pathetic. You will get your release when I feel you’ve learned your lesson about being demanding.”

You panted as Eris’ lips swarmed your neck, marking it on the opposite side of Azriel’s. His canines sank into your flesh, sending your senses singing. Your wrists struggled in the bonds – they did not hurt, but you wanted so badly to grip Eris’ red hair in your hands. You cursed yourself for not doing it earlier when he gave you the chance.

Once you had lost all sense of your upcoming orgasm, Eris’ fingers returned to your cunt. They started out more slowly this time, but quickly found the relentless pace from before. Your entire body was trembling as he once again denied you before your release. And then a third time. After that, you were practically sobbing. Black makeup ran down your cheeks as you sobbed with desperation. Your skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending singing and every muscle both taut and loose at the same time.

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” Eris cooed, sucking your juices from his fingers as Azriel had earlier. “You’ve done so well for me, darling. But I need to hear you beg for it if you want to stand a chance of cumming by my hand.”

“Please,” You did not hesitate this time, caught between the overwhelming sensations of Azriel’s earlier overstimulation and Eris’ lack thereof. “Please let me cum. Please, I’ll be good I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me cum. I’m yours, please.”

“Good job, pet.” Eris praised, kissing your tear-stained cheeks. “It’s okay, love. I’ll give you what you need.”

The Autumn prince shifted his weight and removed his tunic, moving down so he was kneeling between your legs. His fingers once again returned to your sensitive hole, but his sinful mouth attached itself to your clit. The heat around your wrists disappeared, freeing them of their constraints. Without hesitation, you brought your hands down from above your head and latched them into Eris’ hair. You tugged on the silky locks, relieved to finally have some movement.

“Release the bonds on her legs, Shadowsinger.” Eris growled against your core.

You heard Azriel grumble something about it being unfair, and if you were at all coherent you’d have laughed at his jealousy that Eris’s head got to be suffocated by your thighs and his didn’t. But he obeyed, releasing his shadows and finally granting your aching legs freedom. At once, you wrapped them around Eris' waist, pulling him close as possible lest he pull away again.

Eris curled his fingers against that spot again and you moaned loudly, lifting your head to look down at the sight before you. You hadn’t even realized you’d been dragged down to the end of the bed, but the future High Lord of the Autumn Court was kneeling before you. The sight of his head buried between your legs brought you the start of your orgasm, the eroticness of it tightening the coil in your stomach. Instinctively, your head went to fall back in bliss, but a cold wisp of shadow brushed against the back of your neck.

“Do not look away.” Azriel’s stern voice growled from the corner. “Keep your eyes on him. Watch as the Prince of the Autumn Court is on his knees before you and makes you fall apart.”

You obeyed Azriel, locking eyes with Eris as he doubled his efforts. Finally, your climax washed over you with such force you thought you’d pass out. Eris gently pumped his fingers helping you ride it out, letting you grip and pull his hair as your body shook.

When he withdrew, you finally flopped your head back onto the bed, panting. The orgasm Eris gave you was heightened by his edging, making your entire body tremble with exhaustion.

“Don’t tell me you’ve worn her out before the real fun.” Azriel growled at Eris, bringing a glass of water to your lips that you gulped down.

“Oh I don’t think so,” Eris hummed, unlacing his breeches. “I think she’s ready for more, isn’t she?”

You nodded, catching your breath.

“If it is too much, just say so,” Azriel assured you. “We can let you rest if you are too tired to continue.”

“I’m not,” You protested, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Please. I want both of you. Now.”

“What did I say about being demanding?” Eris questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, give it a rest.” Azriel growled, unlacing his trousers as well. “I think she’s done well enough that she can ask this of us if she truly wants it.”

Eris rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest. Instead he discarded his pants and undershorts, leaving him stark naked in the glow of the fire. Azriel followed suit moments later, and you let yourself admire the two male forms at the end of your bed. Eris was definitely more lean while Azriel was bulking muscle, but both were beautiful. You couldn’t help but stare at their cocks, jaw slack. Both were bigger than any male you’d taken before, Azriel just a bit wider than Eris.

“Oh I think she’s ready,” Eris chuckled. “She’s practically drooling at the sight of our cocks.”

Azriel nodded. “Alright, Vanserra. This was your idea, how do we do this?”

Eris smirked. “How about you take her from behind, and I take her mouth. Deal?”

“I like the sound of that.”

You nodded your agreement, quivering with anticipation. As Eris moved around to the other side of the bed, you flipped over and pushed yourself up on your hands and knees, presenting your ass to Azriel.

“So eager.” He murmured, large hands roaming the soft flesh and making you groan. He ran a finger down your spine, causing you to shiver. “And so responsive.”

“Thanks to–” Eris began.

“Don’t you fucking dare take all the credit for that, Vanserra.” Azriel growled before he could finish his sentence. Eris merely shrugged, climbing onto the space in front of you and sitting on his knees. He cupped your face, kissing you once before sitting up so his cock was level with your face. You stared up at him, a crimson god above you ready for you to worship him.

You felt Azriel’s thick head prod your entrance. “Don’t even need to prepare her, she’s so desperate for our cocks.” He remarked smugly.

You groaned, pressing your backside into Azriel. Mercifully, he obliged, lining up with your entrance. Ever so slowly, he pushed the head in, stretching you out. It stung, as you never had a male this big before. The male paused, before asking. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” You panted. “Just move please.”

After a minute or so, Azriel was pushed fully into you, the pain ebbing into pleasure. You moaned, dropping your head at the sensation.

“As much as I love those pretty noises,” Came Eris’ voice from above you. “I can think of better uses for your mouth.”

You lifted your head and were met with Eris’ cock, red and leaking with anticipation. The prince smirked down at you, lifting your chin in his hands. You opened, maintaining eye contact as you closed your lips around the tip. As slow as Azriel pushed into you, you moved your lips down Eris’ cock. The wanton moan that left his lips ignited a fire inside you, spurring you on further. Tears formed in your eyes as you tried not to gag, pushing down as far as you could go.

“Gods, that fucking mouth of yours is perfect.” Eris groaned, gripping your hair in his hand.

As you came up for air, Azriel finally began moving inside of you. You could tell he was nearly shaking with restraint, having been hard for so long. The three of you found a rhythm after a minute, Azriel thrusting into you timing with your head bobbing down on Eris’ cock. The bruising grip the spymaster had on your hips was sure to leave marks tomorrow, and you loved it.

The faster Azriel got, the faster you moved up and down Eris. The males let their groans fill the room, the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout. You felt so full, stuffed at both ends and you couldn’t be happier. But something was missing, so you removed your lips from the Prince’s cock.

“Harder.” You panted. “Please.”

Azriel stopped. “Are you sure? We don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it,” You protested. “Please. Give me everything you’ve got.”

The heir to the Autumn Court and the Shadowsinger locked eyes, that silent communication from earlier occurring as they nodded. You gasped as Azriel thrust into you with a force that sent you flying forward – you were thankful you had removed your mouth from Eris in that moment or else you’d have choked. Azriel pounded into you deep and hard, while Eris quickly tightened his grip on your hair and thrust his cock into your mouth again. As Azriel took you hard from behind, Eris’ hips moved and he began fucking your face.

You thought you were going to see stars. It was an almost overwhelming sensation, having both males so deep inside you at the same time. Your dirtiest fantasies didn’t come close to what the two males were making you feel. You groaned around Eris’ cock, spurring him on more.

After a few minutes, a shadow caressed your clit, making you cry out. The tension you’d already felt four times tonight built up again for a grand finale, and you knew this would possibly be the orgasm that sent you into the realm of unconsciousness.

“You gonna cum so soon, sweetheart?” Azriel grunted. “Should we let her?”

“I’m feeling generous tonight, so yes.” Came Eris’ breathless reply. “Cum for us, pet. Let go and fall apart.”

You gladly obliged, letting your orgasm wash over you. It was more intense than the last few, heightened by the sensation of Azriel spilling into you and letting out a roar that shook the windows. Eris followed a few moments later, hot seed spilling down your throat.

“Swallow.” He ordered, gripping your jaw. You happily obeyed, letting his cum drip down your throat. You could feel Azriel’s seed mixed with your own, leaking out of your hole.

The three of you laid there for a few minutes after the males removed themselves from you, panting filling the room. Every ounce of energy you had was spent, and your eyelids were heavy.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Azriel murmured, kissing your forehead. “Eris, run a bath.”

You half expected the redhead to roll his eyes and ignore the shadowsinger’s order, but he obliged, quickly heading into the bathroom to turn on the water.

“Can you carry me?” You sheepishly asked Azriel. “I don’t think I can walk.”

He chuckled, nodding. He easily swept you up in his arms, carrying you over to the other room where Eris was waiting and sorting through the soaps. Seeing the shadowsinger and the prince of the Autumn Court working in tandem warmed your heart, knowing full well that they normally took every opportunity to wish the other dead.

“Was that ok?” Azriel asked, gently placing you in the tub as it filled with warm water.

“Yes.” You murmured, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the side. “Although it would be even better if you both joined me.”

“We may need a bigger bathtub,” Eris remarked, gesturing to Azriel’s wings. “But that’s something we can have for next time.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris x azriel #eris x azriel x reader #eris vanserra x azriel #eris vanserra x azriel x reader #acotar #acotar smut #sjm #a court of thorns and roses #eris acotar #azriel acotar

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amarillis39 · 8 months ago

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To Kill The Deathless

Chapter 2 is now live.

“Come, Shadowsinger,” Eris repeated. “We have a High Lord to overthrow.” Azriel’s face changed from wild, confused and ready to defend himself, into the familiar cruel, vicious smile, and bright eyes that promised violence. “Take me to Rhysand.” Shadows wrapped around him and he was whisked into the Night.

#eris vanserra #azriel #azris #azris supremacy #azris fanfiction #azriel x eris vanserra #eris vanserra x azriel #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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achaotichuman · 7 months ago

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To the magic of the ground, To the stars in the heavens, To the Cauldron's power. May the sun never set on injustice, May those who are remembered never be forgotten. To the Court of Outcasts, Thieves and Assassins.

A Court of Song and Desolation: Chapter 27

Summary:

She had eyes like starlight and a grin that could outshine the moon, "We'll rule the world."

"What if we fail?"

"Then we'll burn it all down."

In hindsight maybe it could only have ever ended like this. Making a man who was never made to rule, High lord. This was all inevitable.

With his Court in ruins and everyone gone, Tamlin lives amongst the broken pieces of his Court and has no intentions of changing that. Lucien, however, will not stand to leave his oldest friend alone.

When Lucien takes Tamlin back to the human lands, they discover a darkness coming for Prythian. If something does not stop it, it will completely rewrite the way Faeries and humans alike live as they know it.

Archive Warnings:

Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence

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searchingforbucky · 6 months ago

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Literally!! SO!!! Good!!!!! This was SO damn good. I love love love a good AU and this was perfect. It had be literally giggling and kicking my feet. They are perfect. Eris as a massage therapist is not what I thought I needed but now I need it injected into my veins, thank you.🙂‍↕️

They both have such traumatic pasts, but they come together and love each other through it and because of it and in spite of it and I love them so much your honor. Their little anxieties, the blushing, the supportive touches. They know each other so well,

ALSO. Them both being so in love is so funny. Like “I hope he doesn’t know I’m in love with him” when the other is thinking the EXACT same thing is the best. And the touching, the tension. Their flirty little back and forth, the banter, it was amazing. Ugh, I love them. Thank you so much for sharing this! 💓

help, I've fallen into azris and I can't get up...

Hey everybody, I'm brand spanking new to tumblr but wanted to share something I wrote here!

It's called Warm hands, soft heart, and its a fluffy little story about athlete!Azriel and massagetherapist!Eris.

I really hope you like it :)

#azris supremacy #azris #azris fanfiction #azris fic #eris vanserra x azriel

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thehighladywrites · 3 months ago

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acotar men + twitter nsfw links.

“uh-huh, come play with my pussy!”

pairing: acotar men x f!reader

summary: visual links of how the acotar men fuck 😉

warnings: nsfw, porn links, squirting, handjobs, blowjobs, rough sex, teasing, spitting, slapping, public sex, messy makeout session

amara’s note: yum and if you can’t see the links, remove safe search on web reader then go back to twitter

azriel

when everyone’s out

spitting before eating you out

backshots pov

breeding aftermath

head game goes crazy!

put it in and let’s watch tv!

fingering turns you into a squirting mess

jerking off inside

hungry!

rhysand

can i suck your tits while you ride?

squirting all over his cock while he fucks you

rubbing your clit every morning

slow strokes hit so deep!

arching just the way he likes it

i’ll stroke you if you finger me, deal?

can’t keep my hands off your cock, sorry

take it off, i want it raw

cassian

i miss you, let’s facetime later

sloppy, sloppy makeout session

drooling for a taste

size difference? yes!

let’s make a movie but you gotta be quiet!

you said you were stressed? let me take care of you

creampie compilation

giddy up cowgirl!

throat grab

eris

gotta tease before entering

couch fun

be my personal fucktoy

think you can take it all?

post argument sex

i really, really wanna suck you off

69 double pleasure

deepthroat training

lucien

cumming on his cock

the size difference is crazy

he fucks roughly when he’s mad

no one loves titty fucking more than him

slow handjobs is the quickest way to get bent

lucien found your toy and uses it on you

facial

late night quickie

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daycourtofficial · 4 months ago

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It’s Autumn in New York

Pairing: modern!Azriel x Eris | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: my favorite playlist ‘listening to jazz while cooking with your lover in a nyc apartment’ but make it soup and Azris and big sweaters ❣️

Note: I couldn’t let @erisweekofficial go by without some Azris!!!

“It’s looking at me.”

Azriel rolled his eyes at Eris’s greeting before putting a scrap of paper in his book, standing and meeting Eris at the door. He lightly kissed his boyfriend’s cheek as he grabbed some of the bags from Eris’s hands. The pair carried them further into his tiny kitchen, placing bags on the limited counter space.

“She has a name.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it suits her. I think Devil Spawn is more appropriate.”

At that moment, the cat jumped up on the counter, her tail moving from side to side as her big green eyes watched Eris. He sneered in response at the black cat’s presence.

“I just know she wants to sink her claws into my sweater. It’s hand knit, prick.”

Azriel lightly elbowed him from behind, his boyfriend’s antagonism to his cat both annoying and slightly entertaining. “She’s a cat. I don’t think she understands what hand knit, expensive wool means.”

Eris and his godsdamned sweater, Azriel thought. He took a deep breath as he pulled ingredients from the bags, trying to let his annoyance settle as he inspected the squash Eris picked up before he began peeling the onion and dicing it.

It had only been two months since Eris told his father he was dating a man and was very quickly disowned. In the span of twelve hours, Beron had seized all of Eris’s assets, from his bank accounts to his apartment, and fired him and had him banned from Vanserra Enterprises’s grounds.

He had showed up to Azriel’s apartment in nothing but the sweater and trousers he wore now.

Azriel and Eris had been dating on and off for a year and a half by this point, Eris finally deciding to tell his family, despite both men knowing how it would likely end.

Their relationship was never ‘off’ for very long - only a week or two here and there, when both their tempers got too much to handle. The stress of keeping their romance a secret frequently causing Eris to leave whenever things became too much or too real.

But they had been dating for a year straight when Eris began getting plagued with the need to tell his family. He knew the outcome - had even talked over every strategy with his younger brother, Lucien, to help figure out the softest way to tell them.

But Beron Vanserra was not a caring man.

Things had been looking up for Eris since then - it was a learning curve for him to have to live with someone in such small quarters, but the two made it work somehow. Azriel was a transplant to New York City, whereas Eris grew up here.

But shoebox apartments were never something Eris had been acquianted with - growing up in penthouse apartments in the upper east side meant he had grown accustomed to having an amount of space most New Yorkers would deem ‘excessive’.

But the pair made it work.

Eris had even been working on rekindling a relationship with Lucien - the two met up at least once a fortnight for coffee or pastries - short, small commitments for the two to work through the complexities of decades of emotional manipulation.

In a few days Eris was starting a job doing what he had initially wanted to do - running political campaigns. He recently got hired with a firm and he’ll begin helping Nesta Archeron try to take the seat of governor from their incumbent.

Eris had spent all week pouring over every piece of news he could get in the state to prepare himself - every data point, every poll. He had started quoting numbers in his sleep much to Azriel’s annoyance.

Azriel kicked him out of the apartment a few hours ago, telling him to go to the store and to get ingredients for butternut squash soup.

“Well, Azriel, perhaps it’s time you taught her about fine, luxury items.”

He dumped the diced onion into a hot pot as Eris began slicing the squash. “Yes, Er, I will spend the free time I have with you teaching my cat to better differentiate between polyester and cashmere.”

“You make me sound absurd.”

After a pause, Eris slowly smiled, looking at Azriel as he paused his cutting. “Why start there? The first lesson should be all textiles, not just cashmere and polyester.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, his hip checking Eris’s as he pulled the knife from the redhead’s hand and continued to cut the gourd into chunks.

“Perhaps I should quit my job and stay at home and homeschool her.”

His joke had been punctuated with a light meow as Midnight jumped from the counter, moving between Eris and Azriel’s sock clad feet, her body rubbing against Azriel’s calf as she purred.

“As if you could teach anyone manners.”

Azriel stopped his cutting, picking up the board as he dropped the chunks in the dutch oven. He hummed at Eris’s remark, trying to think of a witty reply before turning and grabbing Eris’s hand, pulling it to his lips and leaving a soft kiss.

Eris let a sneer cover his face, but his body moving closer to Azriel betrayed how he really felt about the man before him. One of Azriel’s hands moved to the hem of Eris’s sweater, resting lightly on his hip.

“What are you doing?”

“Is this not a proper greeting? I’m working on my manners.”

“I don’t think feeling someone up is a proper greeting.”

Azriel’s hand slid around, sliding into Eris’s back pocket. At Eris’s raised eyebrow, he responded, “If I’m going to be improper and feel you up, I’m going to do it properly.”

“The soup’s going to burn.”

Azriel turned his head, looking to the pot of vegetables that was heating. The vegetables hardly looked like they had warmed at all, and he imagined he could just stick his hand in it and come out only slightly warmer than his skin.

“I like to take risks.”

“Ah yes, professional risk taker. You spend your day in an office.”

“I walk on top of the grates when I walk through city. That is a risk. My earring could fall out and into the grate.”

Eris rolled his eyes, “everyone walks over the grates and if your earring fell out on the sidewalk,” he brought his finger to lightly play with the dangling knife from Azriel’s ear, “you would need several shots after putting it back in your ear.”

“I have isopropyl alcohol in the bathroom.”

“You have clearly not lived here long enough to understand that that is not strong enough to kill New York street bacteria.”

Azriel hummed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Eris took in his boyfriend, the deep blue sweater he had received for Christmas last year looking as stunning as Eris had expected it to when he bought it. He looked at Azriel’s profile, the dark bags beneath his eyes sending a pang through Eris.

The past few months had been draining for him, but Azriel had been picking up the brunt of the emotional load in this time, helping Eris work through what a life without his father would look like.

Just because it was the best thing to do didn’t make it any easier.

Eris pulled away first, untangling his limbs from Azriel to pull out the bread he had picked up, putting the gluten free loaf onto a cutting board as he cut chunky slices for the pair.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Eris, not letting him stray too far from his touch. Time slipped away as the two shared their body heat in the kitchen, not having anything to do until the timer for the vegetables wittled down.

When the timer finally went off, Azriel moved to turn the stove off while Eris moved to put the blender on the counter. The cat kept weaving between Eris’s legs, making moving through the kitchen nearly impossible. When he nearly tripped over her, he gave an exasperated sigh and scooped her into his arms.

“I hate you.”

She meowed loudly in his face before rotating her body to get comfortable and buried her face in Eris’s chest.

“It’s rumbling.”

“She’s purring, Eris. It’s a sign of affection. Lord knows you couldn’t identify that on your own.”

The redhead rolled his eyes as Azriel brought the pot of soup to the blender, using a spatula to get every last piece in before blending it into a soupy consistency, adding broth as he went to make it less viscous.

The sound of the blender made conversation impossible, until eventually Azriel grabbed two bowls, dumping the contents of the blender into each bowl. Eris followed Azriel to their table, dropping the cat onto the floor as Azriel placed the bowls on the table.

Eris knew things were going to still be difficult - he missed his mother, the jitters of starting a new job, of essentially starting over. But he looked at the soup, his favorite since childhood, before sitting down and taking a bite.

Things could be difficult tomorrow. Tonight would be easy. He would eat this soup and bask in the company of his boyfriend and his annoying cat.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Azris taglist: @chunkypossum @the-darkestminds @mistandmemories @molcat07

Thanks for reading❣️

#acotar fanfiction #eris x azriel #azris fanfiction #azris #eris vanserra x azriel #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fanfic #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra #eris #azrisweek2024

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chairofchaos · 6 months ago

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When the Blood Burns

Burns (Part 2)

Blood (Part 1)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Over the last year and a half of The War, Eris and Azriel find themselves drawn into friendship, and eventually love. But will their love survive a war that so many could not? (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Major Character Death, sexual content, graphic violence, physical and emotional abuse (by Beron Vanserra), thoughts of self harm and suicide, graphic depictions of wounds from battle, canon divergent, and once again: unedited and no beta we die like men me once you all finish this fic.

A/N: I don’t really care what happened in canon right now so just roll with it, please. Including the fact that I had Summer join Hybern and Spring in the bad guy’s club. I couldn’t have ALL the other courts against them and didn’t care enough to do research. I picked randomly, I swear. Once again, I must offer thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the beautiful divider for this fic. It is so perfect. You have no idea how much I love it. @unanswered-stars You said whatever I want. Whatever. I. Want. (Remember that promise you made me.)

As luck would have it, Azriel had time that night. A battle was raging, but Night wasn’t a part of it, and he had been unceremoniously dismissed and told to come back two mornings from then. He assumed his High Lord would head to his family home, and if Rhys was there, maybe Azriel would hear something of his other brother when he got back to camp.

At this moment, Winter fought Summer along their border, humans likely fleeing into Autumn to escape the battle. But Azriel paid it no mind. He got time off so rarely. And this war held no end in sight.

It was only a matter of time before he would be summoned again. But there he was, the glade in the pine woods a sanctuary where he could wait.

Eris winnowed to the edge of the glen after just a few minutes. The fire roared to life at his arrival, and Azriel quickly turned to him.

“I do recall you saying ‘chances are slim’ this morning,” Eris teased.

Azriel shrugged with a grin. “I got the night off.” His shadows rushed to examine the fire lord and coil about his ankles like excited puppies.

Eris shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. Though I like the more relaxed look.”

Azriel had ditched his leathers in favor of a long sleeve shirt rolled up to his forearms and a pair of casual slacks. Siphons still graced his hands, and his leathers were folded neatly at the top of his bedroll where a pillow would typically be, but they were at war. Weapons were never far away.

Eris unbuttoned his long tunic with practiced ease. Beneath it, he wore only a thin white shirt tucked into pants tailored as though they were a second skin. Azriel couldn’t help but drag his eyes from the male’s boots to the crown of his head and back down again.

“I’d ask if you like what you see,” Eris drawled, waving his free hand at Azriel as he drew closer, “but I can see for myself that you do.”

Azriel grinned, crossing his arms. “Well, there’s a reason I picked these pants.”

Eris hummed in amusement, dropping the tunic at Azriel’s feet. “Well, there’s a reason I like them so much.” Before Azriel had the chance to react, Eris had pulled him in for a kiss.

It was heat and light; desire and longing. Azriel groaned into Eris’ mouth. Eris just laughed in return, sliding a hand around the back of Azriel’s head to tug at the roots of his hair.

“Eager,” Azriel hummed, gripping Eris’ waist to pull his hips against his body. Cauldron. He could feel Eris’ heartbeat in his chest. He may be polished and poised, but his heart was wild, beating with eager abandon. Azriel kissed him deeply, relishing in the increased speed of Eris’ heartbeat as he did so.

It was Eris’ turn to groan, but he also stepped back, pulling Azriel with him and winnowing them a few feet.

Azriel found himself being lowered onto the bedroll. Something shifted, then.

Eris was as passionate a lover as his powers would suggest. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or just the fact that ten feet away, a fire popped and crackled with every moan of Eris’ against his throat, but Azriel’s attention felt foggy.

He was painfully hard. Azriel had had only one lover since the start of the war. That had been over as soon as it began, the male’s death on the battlefield bringing it to an untimely end. Other than that, there had been no one. It had been four years since anyone had touched him. Kissed him.

Tonight was different. Perhaps it was that it had been so long. Eris stripped him of his clothes with a tenderness, pressing kisses up the length of his body as each new strip of skin was revealed by the raising of Azriel’s shirt.

When Azriel reached to rid the male of his own shirt, Eris swatted his hands and tugged it quickly over his head, leaning down to give Azriel another kiss and grinding his hips against Azriel’s. The movement drew moans from both of them, and again, Eris laughed.

“What?” Azriel murmured, turning his head to press kisses against the pale jaw of the fire lord.

“I’ve thought about this, you, for years,” Eris admitted quietly. Still his voice rang with joy, and Azriel’s heart jumped at the kernel of truth. Eris tossed his head back, looking up at the stars ringed with the leaves from the forest around them.

“Years?”

Eris nodded, still gazing upwards. Azriel reached up to drag fingers against his cheek and draw his attention back to where Azriel lay beneath him, wings pinned against the bedrolls. Azriel intentionally avoided any thoughts about what his lack of panic at that fact could possibly indicate.

“Why do you stare at the stars?”

Eris’ eyes glowed in the firelight when he looked at Azriel. “They’re glimmers of hope in the midst of the darkest night.”

Clearly done with conversation, Eris stood, shed his boots, his pants, and his underwear while Azriel, still sitting, quickly did the same for himself.

Azriel was quicker. He rose to his knees, reaching to grasp the backs of Eris’ thighs and pull him close. Eris groaned at the contact of Azriel’s lips against his hip, his stomach, his upper thighs. Azriel kissed along the scar he had helped tend to, still red and raised. “Does it ever hurt?”

“No,” Eris smiled. “Not when you’re kissing it.” Azriel smiled in return and pressed soft kisses all along the length of the scar, just because he could.

Tonight, Eris loved him. Truly. Thoroughly. Azriel couldn’t call it anything else. Didn’t want to, as the male touched him with such tenderness and affection, cradling Azriel’s head in his hands as he thrust into him slowly and gently.

There was only so much Azriel could chalk up to desire. The raw thrusts as they sank further into their need. The moans of pleasure at another’s hands wrapped around him. The heady scents of arousal mingling with the pine of the trees.

Everything else couldn’t be purely lust. Warmth and the deepest pleasure Azriel had ever felt growing in his chest. The things he whispered into Eris’ skin, the begging, pleading for ‘more, more, please’ and even Eris’ own name, whined against Eris’ throat. Eris’ intuitive knowledge of the places Azriel needed him most– kisses to his wrists before Eris pinned them above his head, the scrape of teeth along the skin of his collarbone, the stinging bite of a light smack against Az’s ass when he didn’t respond to a question of consent. And then there was the fact that the need didn’t go away.

Once, twice, even four times weren’t enough. They couldn’t stop touching each other. Didn’t stop, except to drink a little water when they were both spent and to kiss once, twice, before their hands were tangled in each others’ hair again. And that last time, when Eris reached up past where Azriel thrust into him, to his shoulder then over it to stroke at the wing which extended fully in complete vulnerability…

Azriel’s hips stuttered, something between a long shout and a moan fading into a hiss rising from him before he collapsed onto Eris’ chest, wings draped alongside them like a blanket while he panted, completely spent.

Eris dragged his hands up Azriel’s sides and murmured sweetly into Azriel’s hair. Azriel couldn’t comprehend what the words were, just that they were there, drifting over him like leaves falling from a tree on an autumn day. He drifted, too, into a comfortable sleep, his face buried in the crook of Eris’ neck, and knew in his soul that the probability he loved Eris was no longer just a chance. It wasn’t a probability at all. It was a certainty.

They passed the day together, Eris informing Azriel that while his brother was alive, no one really cared where Eris was.

So they slept. They shared stories from the months between their meetings. They compared scars.

They ate while Azriel told Eris about the Blood Rite, how he and his brothers had crossed the face of a mountain to be together, killing anyone who stepped in their path. Eris told Azriel what it was like to be the second son to a High Lord who hated everyone, most of all his own wife and children.

They tumbled back into the bedrolls, laughter ringing between them. Azriel had hardly felt this light in his entire life. Their lovemaking was urgent and entirely unhurried; as needed as air and as casual as walking. They were joy incarnate. Eris drew moans from Azriel loud enough he almost feared they would be heard. Azriel returned the favor, his mouth wet and loud around Eris while the male shuddered beneath him with his pale hands buried in Azriel’s dark curls.

Then, they compared scars again, Eris telling Azriel about the crack of the flaming whip which Beron insisted his brothers raise against him upon being caught with a male lover. Azriel told Eris about the burns on his hands, how little he could truly feel because of them, and how much he relied on his shadows to communicate things to him on missions when he couldn’t make out more than general shapes of things under his fingers in the darkness.

They passed the second night in much the same way. When they lay panting, Eris would stare at the stars. Azriel would stare at Eris. When their gazes came together again, so would they, until the light of dawn broke once again, and the spell which held them in the perfect sanctuary of the glade broke at last.

A battle had waged on the Autumn Court’s border with Spring. Eris stood pale behind his father as the news settled over the room. His older brother was dead. Eris was heir.

Azriel couldn’t watch. Couldn’t see the solemn look on Eris’ face for more than the second that it took to pretend to size him up, to examine him for weaknesses and sneer, the masks they had assured each other they would wear in front of their Lords.

Beron waxed about how weak his son had been, and how appropriate it was that he had died. Eris said nothing.

He looked like shit. Azriel promised Eris in his head that he would make it up to him, every minute of every day that they got to spend together. They would not be this forever.

Eris would be watched now. The chances they would be able to steal away to the glade were slim. Azriel thanked the stars that they had had those two days. It wasn’t enough. But it was something. When this war was over, they had the rest of their lives.

Cassian’s bellow barely reached Azriel’s ears as he watched his brother get stabbed. The soldier had lay on the ground. Whether the soldier was injured, lying, or dying, Azriel didn’t know, but he had taken a moment’s strength to stab up into the sliver of space at the waist of Cassian’s leathers.

Azriel was too far from him, ordered to the sidelines in case an urgent dispatch needed to be made between the humans or the High Lords of Winter, Autumn, Night, Dawn, and Day. Cassian dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach with shaky hands as blood gushed from him. They were so close to the end. This battle seemed so final, so hopeful, even in the midst of the terror and panic earlier in the day.

Seven years. It had been seven years since the beginning of this war just last week. His brother could not die, not this close to the end.

So Azriel disobeyed the order his High Lord had given him. He summoned his best blades from his shadows and leapt into the thick of battle. He had killed his way to his brothers before. He would kill his way to Cassian again.

The terrible calm of battle sank into his bones. He hardly saw their faces in the fading light of dusk as he spun, wings flapping rapidly to raise him over a small group of soldiers without raising high enough to engage in aerial battle. There wasn’t enough time for that. Cassian had struggled to his feet again, engaged in a sword battle with a soldier from Spring who seemed determined to kill anyone in his path. Cassian was the better swordsman. Still, he struggled to defeat his attacker, stumbling back with an arm pressed against his stomach.

Azriel swung his blades faster, stabbing, swiping across necks. It wasn’t enough. Cassian would fall. With Rhys injured, only Azriel was left to save their friend who had saved him, early in life and many times since.

A blade was knocked from his hand by a broadsword. He couldn’t let it delay him. It was out of his reach, so Truth Teller slipped into his hand with ease as he plunged his remaining Illyrian blade into the throat of the Hybern soldier who had tried to kill him.

Slice. Thrust. Blood. Sweat. Every step was labor. Every moment passed quicker than the last. He felt as if he would never get to Cassian’s side. All around him, the battle slowly died, and he saw nothing, felt nothing but determination to do what felt impossible.

In time, he reached his brother. Cassian looked at him in surprise, eyes glazed from pain. “Az,” he choked. Blood dribbled from his lips.

“Don’t speak,” Azriel snapped.

Cassian looked at him, eyes darting around. “Rhys,” Cassian tried to speak again, and Azriel snarled at him. “Rhys is going to be fine. Shut up.”

“Tell him–” Azriel cut Cassian off.

“Tell him yourself when this fucking war is over.”

Cassian choked a half laugh, half sob, eyes closing for a second at the pain of the movement in his gut. “Fine.”

Azriel swung Cassian’s arm over his shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. They both groaned, but Azriel insisted they start moving immediately. Luckily, the thick of the battle had shifted away from them to where Peregryn, Seraphim, and Illyrians descended in undulating waves to attack the heads of the last advancing regiments of Hybern, Spring, and Summer soldiers.

They made it three hundred meters before Cassian doubled over coughing, blood spraying across the bodies at their feet. They would have made it farther, but each step toward the edge of the battlefield required careful placement of feet not to step on the bodies of the dead or dying in case they shifted. Azriel’s shadows couldn’t even clear the way, spread so thin monitoring every aspect of the battle they could that they were too occupied to return intelligence that would serve him any use.

They had passed another hundred meters. Roughly three hundred were left to traverse. Azriel saw his discarded Illyrian blade, his custom leather-wrapped handle the only giveaway it was his. Someone must have picked it up to use it for it to have ended up here. He could buy another one when this was over. He left it behind, Truth Teller still clutched in the bloodied palm of his hand. He wouldn’t be able to wield the Illyrian blade and had strapped it against his back. Its handle bumped against Cassian’s arm as they walked, but he doubted his brother could even feel it.

If they made it to the edge of the battlefield, his brother would survive. Madja, the healer who had nursed him back to health on multiple occasions, would help patch up his brother. Rhys paid her handsomely to be there when they needed her. She was to be trusted, Rhys insisted, and the only one to touch them if they could at all help it.

In the last six months, Rhys had grown suspicious, too suspicious for his own good. He thought people would use his brothers and friends against him if given the chance. Azriel and Cassian indulged him, though they teased him anyway, any chance they got.

Cassian nearly fell away from Azriel as he began coughing again, his wings shaking with the force of it. The battle was shifting again, headed their way. They had no time. None.

“Can you walk?” Azriel asked Cassian roughly. When he didn’t respond, Azriel slapped his cheek. Cassian seemed to jolt to attention, gazing at Azriel with wide eyes. “Hey! Can you walk?”

Cassian nodded slowly with a grimace. “Give me a blade.”

Azriel slipped a dagger from his belt, passing it quickly to Cassian. “That way,” he pointed, ducking under Cassian’s arm to let him go. “I’ll guard your back. Hurry.”

Cassian began to stumble toward the edge of the field, tripping once or twice as Azriel stood his guard. He would hold the line like Enalius. He would protect his brother, his friend.

The first soldiers began to reach him, and Azriel picked up a discarded Seraphim sword to wield. They began to fall around him, and he continued his bloodletting. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty. They would die, one after the other. A slight pause, and he took the chance to glance back at Cassian. He was making progress. Maybe a hundred meters more and he could be safe enough for Azriel to fly to him and get him the rest of the way.

Azriel turned back to swing his blade up and block the downswing of another sword, spinning to swing his dagger into the unguarded underarm of the soldier who had raised his sword high to bring down on Azriel’s head. He died quickly. Too quickly, and not quickly enough. Azriel yanked the blade from him, barely noting the spurt of blood which hit his face.

The soldiers kept coming, one after the other. A legion of Autumn court soldiers approached from the direction Azriel had come from with Cassian. Another legion of Darkbringers approached the force’s back. Most of the remaining Hybern soldiers were already turned to engage with them, and the few that stayed to fight Azriel died one after the other. He scanned for any would-be opponents, but finding no one looking at him, he turned his attention back to Cassian.

But as he did so, a figure appeared at the edge of the forest, running towards Cassian, staying in the shadows of the trees. They were moving fast, wearing a cloak of dark fabric Azriel didn’t recognize. They were similarly cloaked in shadows and darkness of the falling night. They clutched a weapon, the blade glinting in their hand as their arms pumped at their sides.

Azriel saw what would happen. He saw Cassian with that slim blade in his throat, the Lord of Bloodshed downed so close to safety, so close to getting out of this war that had already taken so much from all of them. Azriel sprinted, not for Cassian, who hadn’t seemed to notice the approaching soldier, but for that soldier who stalked his brother.

Blood and sweat mingled, dripping from his hair into his eyes. He pumped his wings, moving faster and faster to get there, to intercept him before Cassian could be killed. The stranger winnowed, a little bit at a time as if their magic was spent, then resumed running, this time darting in and out of the trees. They were getting close. But so was Azriel.

Azriel had too few shadows to shadow walk. If the soldier winnowed again, he may not make it. His wings could not falter. His feet could not stumble. He poured everything he had into speed and steadiness, approaching that soldier as fast as he could.

They didn’t hear him coming. He made sure of it. Had cloaked his sound with the few shadows he did have. So they did not falter until Truth Teller in his hand pierced upward through the ribcage of the soldier, their own body weight and momentum driving Truth Teller’s blade deeper than Azriel could even have hoped for a male who had tried to kill his brother. Blood spurted over his hand as they toppled to the ground.

Azriel felt the wound in his own chest. Felt his dagger pierce his very heart as the soldier’s face spun towards him, red hair falling about a pale face frozen in shock.

Eris.

A golden thread coated in reddest blood snapped between two pierced hearts.

Eris slumped backward, coughed once. Cassian’s coughs had been forceful. Eris’ cough was weak. He gasped for breath, and Azriel began to tremble, yanking his body from where he lay atop his lover the way they had in the glade.

“No,” he whispered, kneeling beside his body much the same as the first time he had tended Eris' wounds. “No, no. Eris.”

“Help,” Eris whispered as Azriel lowered him to the ground. If he kept the blade in place, if he could get Madja here to save him, to save his mate–

"I'll help, just give me a minute, Eris, I'll help."

“No," Eris coughed. Blood bubbled up, and Eris coughed it out. "I wanted… to help.” Eris gasped, blood bubbling from his throat.

“Cassian!” Azriel screamed for his brother, who was already stumbling towards them, a mere silhouette as the sun set entirely.

Eris coughed again, weaker still.

“Eris, no,” Azriel hissed at him. His mate. His love. No. This couldn’t be his fate, his cauldron-ordained mate’s life taken by Azriel’s own hand.

“Az…” Eris coughed too much, and not enough, his hands grasping at Azriel’s face, his hands, anything he could reach. Panic was filling his eyes. “Hurts.”

“I know,” Azriel began to sob. “I know, just hold on, please, please.”

He didn’t know who he was begging. Night had truly fallen. The stars? The cauldron? The mother herself?

“Please!” Azriel screamed. A horn blew, and others joined in chorus. The battle was over, the war done. They had been so close.

“Az…” Eris wheezed. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Azriel sobbed, pressing his hands against the blood seeping from the wound. It forced its way through his fingers, pooling in the divots of his scars and rushing in a warm cascade to the ground. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

Cassian reached them. “Az?”

Azriel bowed his head to listen to Eris’ heartbeat. It was slow. Far too slow.

“Get Madja. Cassian, please, get Madja,” he sobbed. He knew Cassian moved away only from the uneven, uncharacteristically heavy thud of his footsteps. He would get Madja. Eris would be alright.

“Eris, just wait a minute. She’ll be here,” he sobbed. So much blood. “She’ll save you, she saved Cassian, she can save you, just hold on.”

“The stars,” Eris whispered. “The stars remind me of you.”

“No, no, no,” Azriel shouted at him. He could hardly see Eris’ face, could hardly see his mate’s own tears trickling from his perfect, dimming eyes. He needed to see him. His heartbeat stuttered beneath Azriel’s hands.

Eris’ hands found purchase against Azriel’s cheek, his neck. They were warm. So warm. Hot.

Burning. The last flames of an Autumn prince, unintentionally burning into the skin of the one they loved.

“You were my stars,” Eris whispered. His hands flared with a burst of flame, then dropped to his sides.

Azriel screamed.

It was a scream of pain. His burning flesh didn’t even register. His heart, its core ripped out by the shredding of a golden thread that had snapped all too late, was the only pain he knew.

“Azriel!” A female’s voice, carried to him on the evening’s cool breeze.

“Here!” he screamed. “Madja, we're here!”

She ran. He heard her run, his shadows rushing between her and where he knelt beside Eris, as he begged the Mother to give him one more minute, one more second to save Eris, to save the male who had tried to help his brother and was now seriously injured. Madja could save him.

She didn’t spare him a glance as she dropped to her knees beside Eris’ body, one hand slipping to his wrist and the other to his neck. She was here. She could save him.

She stilled.

“Madja, do something!” Azriel begged, the force of his hoarse scream sending a spray of spit into her face. She didn’t move. Her eyes flicked up to Azriel’s face, then to Eris’. She tilted her head and bit her lip, pressing harder against Eris’ neck, her fingers sinking into the pale flesh the way Azriel’s fingers had once in their sanctuary, a glade in a forest where they were happy.

“Azriel,” Madja whispered, pulling her hands away and placing them atop Azriel’s, still pressing into the wound with Truth Teller between them.

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “No, do something. Madja, you have to save him! Please!”

“Azriel!” Cassian’s voice reached him, yelling.

Madja sighed, looking over her shoulder. “I told you to stay!” she yelled.

“Azriel!” Cassian yelled again.

“Madja,” Azriel begged. “I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything, please–”

“Azriel,” she said firmly, reaching to grip his chin. “Azriel, Eris is dead.”

He stared at her defiantly. She reached down to pry his hands away from Eris’ chest. “He’s dead, Azriel.”

No. No. His mate. His mate, dead at his own hands.

No.

Eris.

No.

Truth Teller.

No.

“Get him off of him,” a voice said.

He was hauled backwards, screaming.

“Mother have mercy,” a whisper from the person who held him, who kept him from Eris, from his mate.

“Eris!” he screamed. “Eris!”

A vial was forced to his lips. Liquid tipped down his throat, choking him. Azriel coughed. Eris was coughing. Eris. Eris.

Dead.

Azriel’s senses were dull. The soft fabric of a blanket against his arm. The dull light hitting his face from a window. A slender hand, holding his. Eris?

He opened his eyes. His bedroom at the cabin. Gauzy day curtains pulled over the window to soften the light. Mor.

“Azriel,” she whispered, tears lining her eyes. She gripped his hand between hers tightly. “Az, what happened?”

What happened? Who happened.

Eris.

His heart plummeted to the depths of The Mountain as if the Mother herself had tossed it from the stars.

The stars. You were my stars.

He said nothing.

“Azriel,” Mor tried again. He ripped his hand from hers, rolled to his side and covered himself with his wing.

Eris had stroked that wing.

He wanted to cut it off.

Footsteps sounded at the door. He screwed his eyes shut, if only to keep the building tears from falling.

“Az?” Cassian.

“Azriel.” Rhys.

He waited, hoping against all hope to hear one voice, a golden, spiced-honey voice which would tease him until laughter was unavoidable.

“Azriel,” Cassian tried again. “Come on.”

“Leave,” he ground out.

“Absolutely not,” Rhys responded.

“Get out.”

“We aren’t leaving you,” Mor said gently.

Gentle. Who deserved gentleness?

Not a male who killed his mate with his own two hands.

Glimmers of hope in the midst of darkest night. Azriel wished it were night, wished he could fly into the wilderness and never return, starve to death under a starry sky.

“Azriel. Get up,” Rhys ordered. His voice was full of command, command that it hadn’t held before the war.

Azriel begrudgingly shifted his wing and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, and turned toward where Rhys stood.

A wide rectangular mirror covered a good portion of the wall above the dresser. As he turned to face his family, Azriel caught his reflection and froze.

Handprints.

His face, his neck. Burns.

Eris’ handprints.

Azriel raised his hands to trace the outline of the fingers burned into his cheek. The thumbprint which nearly brushed the corner of his lips. The palm burned into the front of his neck from the hand which had held his throat gently, so gently, even as Eris died from the wound that Azriel had given him.

“I tried to heal them.”

Azriel’s head spun to the door so fast it made him dizzy for a minute, his vision flashing with enough spots that he couldn’t see the female who had spoken the words softly.

Madja. Her eyes were sorrowful as she gazed at him, her hands wringing in front of her. “I tried, Azriel. I’m sorry.”

Rhys looked at Azriel with a hard gaze, ignoring the healer who stood beside him. “What happened? Cassian and Madja have refused to tell me anything. What did you have to do with–”

“High Lord,” Madja cut in.

“High Lord?” Azriel’s gaze hardened as he turned to his friend, his brother… his High Lord?

Madja was spared Rhys’ ire only by Azriel’s questioning. Instead, Rhys sighed. “Father died in the battle. It was sudden. An Autumn Court legion wasn’t where it was supposed to be.”

The commanding voice. An Autumn Court legion. Eris.

Azriel’s gaze cut to Cassian, who subtly shook his head. Rhys didn’t know Eris had commanded that legion.

Madja, whose eyes filled with tears she was trying to keep from falling, shook her head as well. She hadn’t told them what she had guessed.

“Az?” Mor said. His gaze cut to her. She reached to the bedside table and opened the drawer. “Rhys thought you might want this back. Cassian found it in the forest.”

Blood bubbling through his hands, the blade of Truth Teller between them.

Truth Teller, which now rested in Mor’s hands.

The dagger which he had stabbed into his mate’s heart.

The dagger which told him the truth of his mate at long last.

Azriel dropped to his knees. His wings drooped behind him. “Leave.”

“What the fuck happened on that battlefield?” Rhys’ voice was the last to reach Azriel before their chatter and shouts faded to muffled sounds. His shadows whipped around him, their wordless fury and pain unleashed at last, their number multiplying by the minute.

Eris had saved his brother. Eris had doomed Rhys’ father. Eris’ last flash of magic had etched his hands permanently into Azriel’s skin, two more massive scars which he would never be rid of. A gaping hole in his chest which would never depart.

He could never tell them the truth. Would protect his mate’s choice to save his brother, even as he had unknowingly doomed the life of their other brother’s father and Azriel’s High Lord. He could never tell them about his mate. His glorious, kind, funny mate. His mate who saw hope in the stars. Who saw hope in Azriel himself. The love of his life.

Azriel placed his palms flat on the ground in front of him and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in, then out. The shadows settled around him on the floor, shrouding everything in darkness. He knew his friends, his family, watched in silent horror as he emerged from their growing darkness. He breathed in again. Everything went still.

And he screamed.

A/N: Yelling is fine, just don’t kill me please. I choose life. Also, does it help to know you voted for the nicer of the two possible endings?

Permanent Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @c-starstuff-man0

Fic Taglist: @somnolentsoul @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @ilikemintpeassss-blog @acourtoflucien @dusk-muse

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ysmtttty · 4 months ago

Text

Red Ferrari

Chapter 9

Summary: Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car

AO3 link Chapter 8 Chapter 10

a/n: since my semester started chapters will be on Sundays

"Idiot," Azriel grumbled, not even knowing why he grabbed his hand again and didn't loosen his grip. Eris didn’t resist.

“Why did you come then?” Eris asked.

Azriel's grip on Eris's hand tightened slightly, his eyes darting away as if avoiding the question's weight. He didn’t have a good answer, not one that made sense, at least. His chest felt tight, a mix of frustration, anger, and something else he didn’t want to name.

“Because I’m an idiot too.”

They sat in silence for a while, Eris still holding the ice to his cheek, and Azriel couldn't bring himself to let go of his hand.

“You irritate me,” Azriel finally said, breaking the silence that had been grating on him. Eris only snorted. “I really want to be angry at you right now, but instead, you make me worry like hell. You scared me with that call, and even more when I saw you when I came in. And now I’m sitting here, not knowing whether to tell you to go to hell or to bring you more ice because you look awful. I just wish you didn't make it so damn hard.”

“I guess I have a talent for making things difficult,” Eris said, wincing as he moved to adjust the ice. “Thanks for coming. Even if this ends with you telling me to go to hell. But before that, you promised me tea.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small laugh. He took the ice from Eris's hand, which had already started melting, and went to the kitchen. This time, Eris followed him.

After rummaging through the cabinets for a bit—Azriel knew from experience that asking where things were was useless—he found a box of expensive, unopened tea. Meanwhile, Eris turned on the electric kettle.

“You don’t even drink tea,” Azriel noted.

“I can give you the cliché answer that I love everything you do if it makes you feel better,” Eris quipped back.

“You’re not making it any easier for me not to kill you, you know that?”

“The knife block is to your right.”

“I hate you,” Azriel sighed, rolling his eyes, grabbing two mugs instead of a knife, and throwing some green tea leaves into them, hoping it would help calm both his and Eris's nerves. Despite all the sarcasm and bitterness, Eris sat at the bar with a leg that wouldn’t stop shaking.

When the kettle boiled, and Azriel joined him with two cups of tea, Eris stared into his cup for a long time, clearly lost in thought.

“Drink it before it gets cold,” Azriel grumbled, pushing the cup closer.

“So caring,” Eris teased, blowing on his tea before sipping.

They sat in silence, with Eris continuing to stare off into space, and it grated on Azriel’s nerves. Eris's whole state made him incredibly anxious. He honestly didn’t know what to do when someone was in such distress because, in Azriel’s experience, the people close to him rarely ended up beaten and then refused to talk about what happened. Azriel found himself realizing he now considered this idiot one of his close people. And then realized maybe he didn’t mind.

“Stupid question, but are you going to the police?” Azriel asked, tired of the tension in the room. Eris only looked up at him with a half-empty gaze, as if he hadn’t heard a word and had been completely elsewhere for the last few minutes. Azriel repeated his question.

“No,” Eris shook his head. “I can’t handle another court case with Mor's family.”

Azriel froze. He looked at him intently, hoping Eris would say he was joking. But from the serious expression on his face, Azriel realized there was no joke.

“Mor's father,” Eris continued, pointing to the bruise on his face. “The marriage was for convenience. Her father got a big chunk of profit and a lot of other perks from the union. Today, he proved he doesn't want to lose them.”

He hadn’t known. He hadn’t known that an arranged marriage could bring so many problems. Azriel understood that divorce was not an easy task in such cases—hell, having Mor in the equation made it even more complicated. But physical violence? The idea of Mor’s father being behind this, of Eris being physically hurt because of some twisted power play, made Azriel's blood boil.

Eris noticed the change in Azriel’s expression and let out a small, bitter laugh. “Don't give me that look. I'm not some helpless victim. I knew what I was getting into, and I’ve handled worse.”

“Handling it doesn’t mean you should have to,” Azriel replied, his voice tight with anger he was trying to keep in check. “Or are you going to let everyone just come up and use you as a punching bag just because you've been through worse?”

“It’s not that simple,” Eris muttered, not knowing why someone else's concern irritated him so much.

“Then enlighten me,” Azriel frowned. And he was still frustrated that he couldn’t properly be angry looking at Eris. And damn it, did he have to be beaten so that now it was impossible to look at him without feeling something?

After a short pause, Eris explained. He explained the details of the divorce, the deals between the families, and the profits they were making, though the descriptions were a bit vague and unclear—apparently, Eris himself didn’t fully understand it. Then it all led to an explanation that their families were very influential and Mor’s father could afford such attacks every day, and no one would say a word to him. Except for Eris's father, though Eris remained silent about him for now, not ready to talk about that. Besides, he wasn’t sure Beron would do anything to protect him, and if he did, everything had a full chance of turning into a dirtier and bloodier mess, in which he didn’t want to participate at all.

Azriel listened to him, while Eris noticed how his jaw clenched in anger at certain moments, how his fists tightened and relaxed, how his gaze kept falling on his bruises and split lip. Eris had never needed pity but seeing that someone cared was unexpectedly pleasant. Maybe it was selfish, but something in his chest responded with an unusual feeling at the realization that Azriel cared, at his readiness to stand up for him even despite their argument.

They sat in the kitchen for a long time, Azriel pouring him a second cup of tea, grumbling that he definitely needed to calm his nerves.

“What about Mor?” Azriel asked. “Doesn't she want to get out of the divorce quickly?”

Eris shrugged, his features darkening for a split second at the mention of his wife’s name. “She did. At least that was the plan. And then suddenly, she needed more money than I was willing to give, so we’re both sinking in this mess, spending money on lawyers and exhausting each other.”

Azriel gripped his cup tighter. Eris just cast a tired glance at his white-knuckled fingers.

“We’re stuck in a very unpleasant situation,” Eris continued, for some reason feeling like he had to explain more. Because Azriel deserved to know more, and Eris felt that he owed him the truth. No matter how ugly it was. “The last year, Mor and I were in an ‘open marriage,’ we agreed that since we were stuck, we might as well give each other the chance to find happiness with other people. Now she has a video of me with one of those people.”

Eris winced at Azriel’s expression, full of disbelief and anger at this information.

“How bad is it?” Azriel asked hoarsely.

“Detailed,” Eris answered dryly, taking the last sip of his now cold tea. “So detailed that it threatens to ruin my career if Mor decides to send it to my clients and competitors. It would destroy the reputation on which my career is built, and which is almost impossible to restore in the legal field after such things.”

Azriel stared at him, processing what he’d just heard. If after the information about Mor’s father and his impunity, he thought he couldn’t get angrier, this had finally pushed him over the edge, sending his levels of anger skyrocketing. Damn, and he thought Mor had treated him badly. He got off easy.

Exhaling sharply, Azriel swore, crudely and uncontrollably. Eris almost found amusement in listening to him.

“Fuck,” Azriel concluded his rant.

“Couldn't have said it better myself,” Eris smirked.

“You're not thinking of giving her the money after this, are you?” Azriel asked, frowning. “I may be just a mechanic and not play these kinds of games, but even I know that giving in to blackmailers is a dead end.”

“I’m giving away half the money anyway,” Eris sighed. “We didn’t have any concept of a prenuptial agreement, so everything earned in the marriage still has to be split equally. But Mor is asking for more, which bothers me, and I don’t know if I want to respond to her actions or just tell her to fuck off and give her the money. Whatever, I’ll earn more.”

Azriel only frowned even more, looking at him as if he were an idiot. Eris was really tired of that look because his younger brother had looked at him the same way when he told him he planned to just give her the money and watch her walk off into the sunset.

"That's exactly what she’s after."

"I know," Eris sighed, looking at him with tired eyes. "She might even come back in a year or two when the money runs out, to extort more."

"And you’ll let that happen?"

"No idea."

Azriel held back his opinion for now, not knowing if it was the right time to tell Eris to send Mor to hell with her ultimatums. Mor was capable of anything, but this had hit a new low that Azriel didn’t even know existed.

"You’ve made it hard for me to yell at you for not telling me about the marriage," Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts while hearing Eris quietly chuckling at him. The bastard had the nerve not to hide his amusement at Azriel's distress. Great.

"I reserve that right for you indefinitely," Eris told him. "But I would prefer if you did it sooner so we could move on to the part where I apologize."

Azriel quietly laughed at his words, but then the smile faded from his face, and he began. "Fine. I’m fucking pissed at you for not telling me about the marriage earlier. And not just that, you weren’t planning to tell me, thinking the divorce would be over before anything serious started between us."

Eris was about to say something, but Azriel just put his hand forward, gesturing for him not to interrupt. He closed his mouth and listened in silence.

"And with you, it’s hard to tell if there will be anything serious because it always feels like we take one step forward and then two steps back. Every fucking time, and it’s very, very exhausting, Eris," Azriel continued. "I was living peacefully, fixing cars, and then you came along, barging in with your stupid dates, and it seemed like everything was fine. But I’m fed up with this feeling of uncertainty, and now, knowing about your divorce with my ex, which also involves my best friend, I have no idea what to expect anymore. Honestly, I have no fucking clue what else you’re hiding. Another two secret wives, three mistresses, illegitimate children, a house in the Caribbean, or that your name isn’t even Eris. It sounds absurd, but I’m ready for anything at this point."

"A villa in Portofino," Eris simply replied.

"Excuse me?"

"I don’t have a house in the Caribbean, but I do have a villa in Portofino, if that matters," he explained. "The name’s real, no other relationships or children. But if you have any questions, ask. I’ll answer honestly."

"Why are you so insufferable?" Azriel sighed.

"Because I’m a fucked-up person, Azriel. And sometimes I make fucked-up decisions, like hiding my marriage," Eris looked up at him. "And most of the time, I am not apologetic about my actions. Hell, if I felt guilty for every life I ruined, I wouldn’t have become a successful lawyer. But this time, I do feel guilty. I can’t promise that something like this won’t happen again because it’s a habit, and I’m not saying this as an excuse, just explaining. But I can promise to try. At least with you.”

At least for you.

"Have we reached the apologies yet?"

"We’ve reached the apologies," Eris nodded. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the divorce earlier. I really didn’t want to involve you in all of this, considering the circumstances, but even so, I should have at least mentioned it in general terms. I’m sorry, Azriel."

They looked at each other for a long time, Azriel trying to untangle the confusing knot of thoughts and emotions in his head that refused to unravel and let him objectively assess the situation. Because the nasty little voice in his head kept whispering that Eris lied once, he’d lie again, and that he didn’t need this kind of drama in his life. However, another part of his brain begged him to forgive and move on because, whether he admitted it or not, he had gotten used to Eris's presence in his life, and he didn’t want to end things, and he also missed him terribly.

"I now understand why you’re such a good lawyer," Azriel said in a grumbling manner, sighing heavily.

"It means...?"

"It means come here, idiot," Azriel pulled him by the collar, drawing him into a kiss.

Eris froze, clearly thrown off by the sudden mood shift, but then kissed back, ignoring the slight pain from his split lip, which Azriel traced with his tongue, soothing the pain.

"That doesn’t mean you’re completely forgiven, got it?" Azriel clarified.

"Understood," Eris smiled at him anyway, knowing it was all bullshit.

"I’m serious. You’re on thin ice, pull this shit again, and I’ll kill you. No half-truths or omissions."

Eris nodded in agreement, understanding that despite how difficult it would be for him, he would try.

"Since we’re on the subject, I’d prefer it if you yelled at me right away instead of stewing over it for weeks," Eris added as Azriel trailed kisses along his cheekbone, not hiding his pent-up desire.

"You’ve got your shitty habits, I’ve got mine," Azriel grumbled against his skin. "But since you’re planning to generously improve, I’ll try too."

"I’d drink to that generosity, but judging by your voice messages, you had enough yesterday," Eris smirked. Azriel groaned quietly.

"You fucking listened?" he asked with a strange hope that at least not all of it.

"To your great misfortune, yes. And some promises were definitely worth noting."

"To your great misfortune, I don’t remember anything from that message, so you’ll have to remind me what exactly I promised," Azriel whispered against his lips, and Eris only smirked and reached for his belt. "Or show me, fine."

Azriel kissed him again, capturing his lower lip between his own, his hands wandering over Eris's body, mindful of the bruises. Eris felt his caution, so he stopped and pulled away.

"I’m fine," he said, frowning.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him, poking his shoulder and watching as Eris tried not to wince. "Uh huh," Azriel said sarcastically.

"I appreciate your concern, but my desire to get more bruises from you outweighs the pain from the ones I already have," Eris looked at him confidently, but seeing that Azriel wasn’t backing down from his position, he relented. "I’ll say if it’s too much."

This time, Eris kissed him, not letting him reply or argue. His own hands wandered with much more confidence, groping, touching, so much that Azriel was left speechless and for a moment his brain forgot what they were even arguing about a second ago.

They somehow made it to the bedroom, Eris pushed him onto the sheets, and Azriel tore off his t-shirt, later doing the same with Eris's shirt, the next to hit the floor were their pants. Eris straddled his hips, pressing against him firmly, creating the much-needed friction that still wasn’t enough.

Azriel gripped his hips tightly, pulling him even closer. "You’re still the one who owes me an apology, and I don’t mean verbal," he muttered as Eris kissed his neck, leaving a trail of fire in the wake of his touches, "but I’d prefer to get it when you don’t look like a human punching bag."

"And what do you suggest?" Eris whispered, his hands running over Azriel’s chest, pinching his nipple, making Azriel hiss quietly as that bastard smirked, pleased with his reaction.

“I suggest you stop being such a tease and let me fulfill my very drunk and very vague promise,” Azriel intercepted his hands, then changed their positions and settled between his legs.

Eris didn't have time to protest when Azriel pulled off his underwear and wrapped his lips around the tip of his cock, drawing a quiet moan from him. Azriel didn't rush, running his tongue along the length, teasing with lazy movements and a slow pace that he knew drove Eris crazy. To some extent, it could be considered a petty revenge. But in truth, Azriel just reveled in his reactions, the sounds Eris made, the slightest changes in his expression, and the way his hips jerked towards his mouth.

Pinning his hips to the bed, Azriel only clicked his tongue.

“If you fucking don't—” Eris growled at him, only for his words to turn into a moan when Azriel took him fully, until his cock hit the back of Azriel’s throat.

Eris reached for his hair, gripping the silky dark locks, while Azriel hollowed his cheeks, looked up at him so lewdly it drove him mad, and started moving his head up and down with even filthier wet sounds.

He smiled and quietly moaned when Eris's grip on his hair tightened, the sound vibrating on his skin. With one hand holding his hips, Azriel reached for his own hard cock with the other, clearly in need of attention, jerking himself off in rhythm with his sucking pace.

A few thrusts, a few movements of his tongue, and Eris came in his mouth. Azriel swallowed, even running his tongue over his lips as he pulled back. Eris reached out to him, touching his cock and giving him a few strokes before Azriel also came.

“I’m on my way to getting full forgiveness,” Eris smiled at him while they both caught their breath.

“Not even close,” Azriel replied, though they both knew that wasn't true.

“I hope to change your mind with a shower together,” Eris informed him. “Just wait until I find the strength to get up.” Azriel chuckled at him.

After the shower, Eris collapsed onto the sheets, almost immediately passing out. Azriel didn’t think twice before lying down next to him, deciding it was too late to go home. And honestly, he really didn’t want to.

Earlier, he had taken a closer look at the bruises on Eris's body, but exhaustion slightly overshadowed the anger that Azriel still felt looking at them. Marks on his arms, a few bruises on his torso—all of it infuriated him beyond measure. He knew that Eris was unlikely to take such a reaction well, thinking it was pity and would try to dismiss it, acting like it was some minor issue that happened to him every day.

Maybe it did. Azriel had already realized that this kind of crap wasn’t new for Eris, that it had happened before, and that it might happen again in the future. But he wanted to prevent it. He wanted to beat and run over those responsible for these wounds and bruises a few more times. Maybe he would. He was a mechanic, who knows what could happen to a car's brakes, right?

Azriel smirked at the crazy turn his thoughts had taken while he lay there, watching the already sleeping Eris, running his fingers along his arm, and then, for some reason, kissing him between the shoulder blades. Being with Eris was full of contradictions. In one moment, Azriel wanted to strangle him, to be rougher, and in the next, he wanted to show a tender side, one that was entirely unfamiliar to himself.

In short, the red-haired bastard drove him crazy, and Azriel didn’t know yet whether that was for better or worse. He only knew that, for now, he was staying. Despite all the mess.

tag list: @sizzlingstarlightsky @isnotwhatyourethinking @molcat07 @chairofchaos @lilah-asteria

#eris vanserra #acotar #azris #azris fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azris supremacy #modernau #eris vanserra x azriel

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the-darkestminds · 6 months ago

Text

Autumn's Shadow: Chapter 11

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

a/n: Thank you to everyone is still here. It means so much to me 🥹

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list!

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Full Chapter List

Chapter 11:

Azriel dropped into a chair across from Elain at the large oak dining table, empty aside from the two of them. A muffin he didn’t want appeared on the plate before him, along with a helping of fruit and a steaming cup of tea. He arched a dark brow and frowned. The wraiths must be working in the kitchen.

Normally, he chose not to join his family for breakfast at the river manor, as they tended to eat hours after he woke up. He preferred to make breakfast a quick affair, typically shoveling whatever simple fare he could find into his mouth before flying off to attend to his spymaster duties before the sun had risen. He was only here now because Rhys had asked him to come.

Azriel glanced over at Elain, who was bent over a large notebook strewn with small sketches of flowers and other plants, along with descriptions and what appeared to be care instructions. She looked up only briefly to give him a polite smile before dipping her head once more. The food on her plate sat untouched while she worked.

Though he knew it was unfair, he couldn’t help the tiny bubble of resentment that twisted in his stomach as he watched her. How could she think of flowers and gardens while their world seemingly stood on the cusp of disaster? When his own felt like it was on the verge of crumbling down around him? He realized he was glaring at the top of her head and averted his eyes, wondering when he’d become such a moody asshole.

Azriel looked down at the overly large muffin on his plate, feeling miserable, and now guilty as well. It was really his own inaction that was eating at him, not Elain’s. But Rhys had summoned him here for a reason—perhaps he’d learned something useful, or had come up with a plan to stop Koschei.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Feyre and Rhys breezed in, both dressed in Night Court black, surprisingly formal for the hour and occasion.

Azriel smiled at Nyx, who was laughing and waving his arms with excitment as Feyre passed him off to Elain. Elain beamed at her nephew as she sat him on her lap, cooing as she squished their cheeks together.

“I’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes,” Feyre announced, and then she disappeared into the corridor that led to the kitchen. Azriel raised his brows and looked at Rhys.

“A word?” His brother angled his head towards the hall.

“We’re going to Day. To speak to Helion. I need you to come with us and be our eyes and ears,” Rhys said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants. “As a precaution.”

“Why are you going to Day?”

“We are going to Day to see if there is anything Helion can do about this bargain between Feyre and I,” he said. The words were clipped and tendrils of night leaked from Rhysand and surrounded their ankles like dark, cool mist. Azriel tried to stifle his disappointment that this summons had nothing to do with Koschei or Beron. He couldn’t help but think it was a waste of their time—there was no way out of a magical bargain beyond its fulfillment. He said as much aloud and Rhys bared his teeth, eyes flashing.

“You will accompany us to Day because this is what Feyre needs,” he hissed. “So lose the attitude and get your shit together. We’re leaving in 3 minutes.”

Azriel started at the fury in his brother’s voice—that he’d so easily let his temper slip. Rhys seemed to realize it as well and took a step back. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed roughly and dragged his trembling hands through his black hair, mussing it from its perfectly styled waves. He glanced over his shoulder towards the dining room before continuing in a quieter voice. “You’re right. There is likely nothing Helion can do for us, but Feyre still has hope, and I refuse to take that away from her on top of everything else,” he said, voice strained. Azriel didn’t ask what he meant by everything else.

“It’s fine, Rhys. I get it.” Azriel took in the wild, panicked look on his brother’s face and pulled him into a hug. Rhys sagged against him, his tension easing slightly in Azriel’s embrace.

“I can’t stop picturing it,” he whispered. “Nyx, left all alone, Feyre and I, dead—'' he choked on the words and pressed his forehead against Azriel’s shoulder, releasing a shuddering breath. It terrified Azriel more than he cared to admit that his brother appeared to be preparing for the absolute worst—as if he didn’t expect to survive Koschei.

To Azriel, Rhys had always seemed larger than life. He was the one person who would never falter, the one who would always be there to take care of things when everything went to shit. When Cassian and Azriel had returned from the lake, Rhys had remained collected, taking control like he always did. Azriel hadn’t realized how much he’d relied on his brother’s unwavering calm. Seeing him like this…Azriel gripped him tightly, tried to channel some of that strength himself. He pulled back to look into Rhysand’s violet eyes, now clouded with fear and pain.

“That isn’t going to happen, Rhys. We won’t let it happen,” he promised forcefully. He’d come so close to losing his brother only months ago. He refused to go through it again. Rhys nodded and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the fear was gone, a pleasant smile plastered on his handsome face. Another mask, for Feyre’s sake.

Azriel refrained from voicing his thoughts—that Feyre would likely want to shoulder some of his burden. But that was Rhys—always taking the brunt of the pain so the rest of them didn't have to. Azriel doubted Rhys even realized he was doing it; it was ingrained in his very bones, this relentless need to give and give until he had nothing left.

Azriel’s heart felt heavy as he watched Rhys make his way back into the dining room. He took a moment to steel himself and then followed, already dreading the visit to the Day Court.

He wasn’t in the mood to endure Helion’s inappropriate come-ons, but for Rhys and Feyre, for Nyx, he’d do just about anything.

***

Azriel winnowed himself to the Day Court ahead of Rhys and Feyre to make sure nothing sinister awaited them, but all he found was extremely bright sunlight and a hot breeze that made him feel like he was standing inside a furnace. Azriel squinted against the light, his shadows tucking themselves tightly under his wings, and took in the dazzling sandswept palace sprawled out before him.

Helion’s residence rose majestically from the sands, its golden domes gleaming in the late morning sunshine. Arid desert stretched endlessly off into the distance, its dunes rippling like waves frozen in time. Tall, swaying date palms lined the wide stone pathway leading up to the palace, offering a pop of green amidst the neutral shades of tan mixed with gold and white. The scent of desert blooms and rich spices drifted toward him on a steady wind, whispering through the thick fronds above. Splashing fountains with towering bronze statues of former High Lords lined the walkway, the blue water inviting in the building heat of the day.

Azriel grimaced as he took it all in. It had been a century since he’d stepped foot in this Court, but it was as extravagant as he remembered. Everything was so bright—too bright. And hot. Winter had not yet passed. Why was it so hot? He was already sweating in his leathers and decided immediately that he had no desire to step foot in this Court ever again.

Azriel sighed and turned to greet the female attendant. She was draped in white cloth that wrapped around her lithe body in panels, flattering her dark, smooth skin. Her uptilted brown eyes were keen as she welcomed him to Day. Azriel sent a thought to Rhys, giving him the all clear, and a second later he and Feyre arrived beside him and both squinted up at the palace.

“It’s so…bright?” Feyre offered with a wide smile. It sounded more like a question than a compliment to Azriel and he stifled his snort. She and Rhys, both draped in glimmering black, looked extremely out of place. Azriel was certain he did as well—though his shadows had all but disappeared, hiding from the sun.

The attendant only laughed warmly and led them towards the stairs that would take them up to see the High Lord of Day.

***

The attendant, whose name they learned was Aya, guided them through the luminous palace on quiet, sandal-clad feet. The interior was just as elegant as the exterior. Intricate mosaics adorned the high walls, each tile bursting with vibrant color, seemingly narrating the history of Day. Archways of white marble stretched up towards the azure sky, visible through windows high above that let in shimmering shafts of sunlight. Bordering the stone pathways were narrow jewel-lined rivers of crystal-clear water that whispered softly beside them as they strolled deeper into the opulence of Helion’s home.

For its size, Azriel noted it was surprisingly empty—the atmosphere was hushed and serene, yet cold despite the heat. Impersonal.

Aya slowed as they approached the golden double-wide doors of Helion’s private councilroom. When she pushed open the doors, all four of them drew up short.

“—then make her,” a male voice growled with considerable venom.

Azriel blinked as he made sense of what he was seeing.

Helion stood nose to nose with Eris, both wearing murderous expressions on their faces and seemingly in the middle of a heated argument. Eris was hissing at him viciously but snapped his mouth shut and turned when the door banged loudly against the wall.

“My Lord, I apologize—I thought you were alone—there was nothing else on the schedule,” Aya stammered, a slight pink tinge to her cheeks.

“Aya my dear, do not apologize, the fault is mine.” Helion’s loud voice was as warm as the sands surrounding his palace. It chilled when he jerked his chin to Eris. “Eris,” he said, his voice now like ice, “was just on his way out.” Helion turned and smiled widely at Rhys and Feyre but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Eris schooled his face into a mask of cool indifference as he strode past Helion. He paused briefly as he approached them, smirking.

“Feyre, Rhysand. Lovely to see you, as always.” His amber eyes brightened as they slid to Azriel and he felt something warm in his chest. “Shadowsinger,” he said with an incline of his head. He followed Aya out into the hall without another word.

“Rhys, my friend, it’s been too long,” Helion boomed. Azriel didn’t hear the rest of the exchange. His head was turned over his shoulder as he watched Eris round the corner and disappear from sight.

It was like a compulsion—this undeniable need to seek him out whenever he was near. Azriel didn’t try to fight it when his shadows pulled him down the hall after Eris. Surely Rhys and Feyre could hold their own without him for a few minutes.

He appeared in front of Eris just as he reached the bottom of the stone steps. His shadows felt sluggish under the blaring sun and they returned to their hiding spot beneath his wings.

“What are you doing here?” he said in a low voice as he gripped the forest green fabric of Eris's jacket. How Eris managed to remain cool and unruffled in the scorching heat was beyond him. Not a single hair was out of place despite the steady breeze. Eris' eyes darted towards Aya and she bowed her head in farewell before re-entering the palace and closing the doors behind her. Two armored guards stood on either side of the doors, each armed with sharp, gleaming spears. Though they appeared uninterested, Azriel knew they were listening intently—and would report any unsavory business to their High Lord immediately.

“Not here. Later,” Eris insisted.

“Eris—”

“Later, Az. I promise.” He brushed his fingers against Azriel’s and with a gust of chilled Autumn wind, he was gone.

***

Azriel quickly sorted through all he knew about the High Lord of Day as he sat at the end of the long, golden table. So much gold. Too much, in his opinion.

Helion had ascended to power following the execution of his predecessor, carried out by Amarantha as punishment for his involvement in the burgeoning rebellion against her.

He claimed no children and had no official consort, though Azriel knew Helion had no shortage of lovers, both male and female, often at the same time. Azriel had been on the receiving end of Helion’s propositions more times than he could count, along with Cassian and Mor. Mor had taken him up on the offer during the war, and at the time, Azriel had been deeply hurt by it.

Azriel nearly laughed aloud when he remembered it had been his outburst at the High Lords’ meeting that had sent Mor running into Helion’s bed. He had tackled Eris into the floor—had tried to choke him to death, until Feyre had stopped him. Gods. He’d wanted to kill Eris in that moment. But now…now, he wanted to wrap his hands around Eris’s long neck for an entirely different reason. Azriel bit back a smirk and chastised himself for letting his thoughts wander, praying no one could detect the change in his scent.

Azriel studied Helion as he talked animatedly with Feyre, all smiles and loud laughter. He wondered if it was all a façade to mask his loneliness—the humor, the steady stream of lovers, the unfaltering charm. To rule an entire court alone for so many years without a steady partner at one’s side sounded miserable. If the male had someone close to him, he certainly hid it well.

What was his connection to Eris? Azriel hadn’t known the two of them were well acquainted enough to even find themselves in the same room alone together. But there was no denying the ferocity he’d seen on both of their faces. As spymaster, he should be aware of such things. It irked him that it had escaped his notice.

Azriel shifted in the chair he sat in at the end of the table, the back too high to comfortably accommodate his wings, and forced his attention back on the conversation.

Rhys was explaining to Helion the nature and terms of his bargain with Feyre. Helion’s face was solemn as he listened, and when Rhys was finished speaking, he asked them why they believed themselves to be in such danger so as to need the bargain severed.

And then Rhys and Feyre both, with Azriel chiming in occasionally when warranted, explained all they had learned these past few months. They told him of Briallyn, of Beron’s alliance with Koschei—they shared nearly everything, including Elain’s mysterious vision.

Azriel had shifted uncomfortably when Rhys had recited the words, thinking it too personal to be shared with the High Lord. Though Rhys framed his relationship with Eris as an alliance and nothing more, Azriel still felt the weight of his assessing gaze as Helion listened intently. Ally or no, he’d kill the golden High Lord if he so much as thought about exposing Eris’s betrayal to anyone who might pass the information on to Beron. He let Helion see the threat in his eyes.

“We don’t know if he truly intends to declare war. For now, he’s backed off of Spring. But should he rally his armies…” Rhys let the thought trail off and Helion picked it up.

“You can count on my forces to join you if Beron does indeed think to make himself High King of Prythian,” Helion promised.

“We’ll keep you informed, should anything change,” Rhys said as he and Feyre stood. Helion mirrored them, and then he looked at Feyre, an earnest expression on his face.

“I will do everything I can to find a solution to this bargain of yours,” Helion promised. “Though I feel I must remind you, the price of severing such a bargain might be one you are unwilling to pay, and once severed, there is no turning back.” Feyre nodded somberly and thanked him, and Helion kissed her cheek. Rhys grasped his hand in farewell.

Azriel glanced away when he saw the look of anguish that passed between Rhys and Feyre while they had one of their silent conversations. Clearly, it was not the answer they had been hoping for, though likely the one Rhys had expected. Azriel’s stomach sank. He hated seeing them in pain.

The three of them were quiet as Aya led them back through the estate so they could winnow home. The silence was heavy—sad. Rhys wrapped an arm around Feyre’s shoulders and kissed her temple. She leaned into his side and tucked her head against his chest. A second later, they vanished.

Azriel didn’t spare the gleaming palace another glance as his shadows eagerly carried him home to Velaris.

***

“Is she okay?” Azriel asked Rhys.

Upon returning home, Feyre had stepped out of Rhysand’s arms and had left them standing alone in the foyer. Her shoulders had sagged slightly, and Azriel could nearly taste her defeat as it sat heavy in the midmorning air.

“As okay as can be expected,” Rhys said in a low voice, and Azriel didn’t miss the guilt that flashed across his face. “She’s afraid. We both are.”

Azriel nodded and his shadows swarmed him protectively. He’d lived in a near constant state of fear these past few weeks—and knew it would likely persist until Beron was dead. Az gripped Rhys’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before turning to leave.

“Azriel, one more thing before you go,” Rhys said tiredly, and Azriel paused. “I need you to help Cassian with the Illyrian forces.” Azriel recoiled, his very skin crawling at the idea of spending more time in Illyria than he absolutely needed to.

“Why? Cassian has things handled just fine,” Azriel insisted. Rhysand’s face hardened.

“If whatever Beron has planned is allowed to unfold, we will need them in fighting shape and ready to fly at a moment’s notice. I’m not asking you to train them, or to interact beyond the camp lords. I just need you to check in with some of the northernmost villages and see what their numbers look like, which units are the weakest, which lords might give us trouble. Take a week.”

“But—”

“Azriel, please.” The exhaustion and desperation in his voice had Azriel relenting.

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll go tomorrow.”

They parted ways, and Azriel's mood soured further. Visiting the Illyrian villages was the last thing he wanted to do; he had more pressing concerns on his mind.

As he walked down the hall, his thoughts drifted back to Eris and Helion. "Later," Eris had said. Azriel hoped later meant tonight, though nightfall was still hours away. Azriel launched himself into the brightening sky.

He flew for a while, allowing the flowing currents to settle his mind, and then set off in the direction of the House of Wind in search of Cassian.

***

Azriel’s breath heaved out of him as he swung his fists at the cushioned slab of wood, each strike brutal and precise. Sweat dripped down his brow and his muscles strained with every punch, but the physical exertion did little to quell the storm raging inside of him. Shadows skittered erratically around him, whispering their ominous warnings in his ears at all hours of the day—a reminder of his own failings.

He couldn't protect Eris from Beron, couldn't find a way to stop Koschei, couldn’t piece together the meaning of Elain’s vision—his irritation burned hotter with every swing. He was pathetic. And utterly useless to Eris.

His fist shot out again, his siphons glinting in the low light of the moon as he tried to lose himself in the movements. But the unease continued to gnaw at him. What was the point of all this power if he couldn’t use it to protect the people he loved? Azriel growled and hit the wood so hard it splintered and cracked beneath his bruised knuckles.

And now he was being asked to waste more time overseeing the Illyrians. Azriel ground his teeth in frustration at the thought. They should be doing something to stop Koschei—though he had little idea as to what they could do. He punched the wood again and it groaned.

Azriel had found his way up to the training ring after many hours spent with Cassian going over the general’s extensive knowledge of each Illyrian village: the camp lords in charge, the number of units, which were strongest and which needed work, as well as the warriors living in each settlement. Cassian knew nearly all of it by heart, which made Azriel wonder, again, why Rhys insisted he needed help. He seemed to be handling things just fine on his own.

Cassian had always possessed more patience with the Illyrians than Azriel could ever muster. For whatever reason, his brother loved their people. How he was able to look past the brutality they’d inflicted upon his mother, the way they treated him like trash—all of it made Azriel want to return the violence tenfold. But it was as Rhys said, they needed the warriors.

As Azriel’s temper rose, his shadows whispered to him of movement within the House, and a few minutes later Nesta stepped into the room and leaned against the stone archway. She rested a rectangular package against her hip as she watched him move.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked with a raised brow. Azriel merely grunted, and moved through several more offensive maneuvers without speaking, silently hoping she’d sense his irritation and leave. But when he finally stopped and turned she was still there, watching him.

Azriel wiped the sweat from his brow and strolled to the water station, pouring himself a cup. Nesta’s shrewd gaze felt like a brand and he finally arched his own brow at her in return.

“Did you need something?” he asked coolly. He didn’t feel like talking.

Nesta ignored his cold tone and walked across the ring to stand beside him. He bristled as she studied him. Nesta saw too much, and it often left him feeling vulnerable—exposed. Az knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was in a foul mood.

“How have you been holding up?” Nesta asked, her voice mingling with the howling wind.

Azriel schooled his face into his usual icy mask to hide his tumultuous thoughts. Truthfully, he was coming apart at the seams. He was utterly useless, and pathetic, and going out of his mind at their general lack of action. His shadows wouldn’t cease their hissing as they begged him to look, to pay attention. It was beginning to drive him mad. But Azriel said none of that.

“Fine,” he bit out. Nesta just looked at him in that piercing way of hers until he finally relented with a soft snarl. “I hate not knowing what any of it means. We’re all just sitting around on our asses, waiting for Beron and Koschei to strike, and Rhys has me dealing with the fucking Illyrians, as if we don’t have more important things to worry about. Eris could be killed at any moment—” Azriel clenched his jaw, pissed at himself for letting his temper slip. He blew out a slow breath. “I don’t know what to do—about any of it.” He dragged a scarred hand through his sweaty hair and voiced what was really eating at him. “I’m scared for him,” he admitted bleakly. Azriel looked away as he said it. It still felt strange to speak of Eris so openly. Nesta drummed her fingers on the package in her hand.

“Eris is cunning. He’s been dealing with Beron for centuries. He knows how to play the game, as he likes to say,” she said. Her voice left no room for debate and he supposed she was right, to a certain degree. Eris did know how to handle Beron—but things had changed. He wasn’t dealing with Beron’s typical brand of cruelty anymore. The paranoia, his alliance with Koschei…he was unpredictable, and it terrified Azriel.

“And we’re not doing nothing,” Nesta went on. “You have your spies monitoring the lake.” Azriel arched a brow that she even knew that to begin with. “Helion is now aware of Koschei, and pledged his forces should Beron do something stupid. There’s only so much you can do.” He willed himself to believe her. “Eris has to be the one to decide how and when to kill Beron. So let him. Surely he’ll tell you if there’s something you can do to help,” she said.

Azriel wasn’t convinced. He didn’t think Eris would ever willingly let Azriel shoulder any of his burden when it came to Beron. He was so used to carrying it on his own—he’d been doing it his entire life. Azriel nodded, not wanting to share the private thought with Nesta.

“Thanks,” he said. “For listening.” Nesta offered him a small smile. Azriel’s eyes fell to the box in her hand.

“Can you bring this to Emerie when you go to Windhaven tomorrow?” Nesta held it out and Azriel accepted it. He let his shadows tuck it away for safekeeping, but didn’t ask her what it was.

As Nesta bid him goodnight and disappeared into the dark of the House, Azriel realized his chest felt lighter than it had mere minutes ago. Few people could draw Azriel out of his head once he’d decided to brood, and he marveled that Nesta had been able to do it so effortlessly.

***

Exhaustion finally sent Azriel from the House back to his apartment. He was wary, and desperately needed to bathe, but as soon as he stepped through the door a whiff of Eris’s scent had him following his shadows up to the roof.

He found Eris leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed against his chest, eyes fixed on the twinkling night sky above.

Azriel took a moment to admire the male. Even here, alone with the stars, he looked magnificent—like a true prince. All that was missing was a crown.

The moonlight shimmered off his red hair, worn loose around his shoulders with several of the silky strands tucked behind a pointed ear. Azriel noticed the small cuff on the smooth edge and found himself wanting to drag his teeth along it. The golden necklaces around his neck matched the rings adorning his long, elegant fingers.

Azriel let his eyes roam over the well-tailored cobalt jacket and the sleek pants that hugged his muscular thighs. He looked stunning in blue—it matched Azriel’s siphons, and the realization gave him a smug sense of satisfaction. Gods, he was beautiful. Heat stirred in Azriel’s blood as he approached.

He slid up to Eris and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him against his chest so he could breathe in more of his intoxicating scent.

“Mother above, Azriel, you reek,” Eris sniffed. “Couldn’t spare a few minutes for a bath?” he asked with an arched brow. His eyes glinted with amusement and he failed to hide his smirk.

“You like it,” Azriel snickered and pulled him in for a kiss. Eris grumbled but returned it enthusiastically, confirming Azriel’s suspicions.

When they pulled apart, Azriel scanned his face, searching for any trace of pain or fear in his amber eyes, but all he found was reflected starlight. Azriel nearly shuddered with relief. Today must have been a better day, then, all things considered.

“I missed you,” Azriel said. Eris’s face softened with a genuine smile, even as he rolled his eyes.

“I missed you too, bat.”

Azriel stretched his wings and laughed at the nickname, delighted at the snark in his voice. Lately, there had been so much darkness weighing on him, but tonight he seemed relaxed. Playful, even.

Azriel wanted to stretch these stolen minutes under the night sky as long as he could, but he knew Eris could never stay for long. He didn’t want to put him at risk, despite how much he craved more time together. It was never enough.

“Why were you in Day?” Azriel asked as he leaned against the wall beside him. Eris frowned, his eyes straying back to the winking stars above.

“I was there to call in a favor from Helion,” he said in a stilted voice. “He certainly owes me one.” At Azriel’s confused silence, Eris turned his face so their eyes met. “Helion is my mother’s mate.” Azriel’s brows shot up his forehead in surprise. “And Lucien…is their son.”

Azriel blinked. Lucien…not Beron’s son? His mind reeled. Surely he would’ve heard whisperings…his shadows should’ve picked up on it. He’d never—

Azriel realized there had been talk of Helion's past with the Lady of Autumn. During the war. At the time, Azriel had been so distracted by his unrequited feelings for Mor that he’d dismissed the conversation entirely, uninterested in anything but his own misery. Azriel realized he was gaping and snapped his mouth shut.

“How long have you known? Does Lucien know?”

“I’ve known since Lucien was born. I was present for the birth, and I was there when she had his powers temporarily bound. Only her nursemaids and I were entrusted with the secret.” Eris sighed. Another burden on his shoulders, all these years. “Beron suspects, but he’s never openly accused her. To admit the truth, that she’d had an affair, would be an embarrassment to him. It would shame him.” The words were hard and Azriel placed a hand on his arm.

Azriel couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. “I don’t think Lucien has any idea,” Eris added, sounding regretful. “Though it’s difficult to be sure where he’s concerned. He was always so adept at keeping secrets, even as a child.” A faint smile bloomed on his lips.

“What powers beyond fire does he possess?” Azriel wondered. He hadn’t spent much time with Lucien. There had been that brief encounter before the war, when he’d brought him to Velaris and they’d discussed his Autumn Court intel. And there was the short conversation they’d had regarding Eris the other day…but mostly Azriel had kept his distance—he’d had no reason, or any desire, to speak to him.

“Powers similar to Helion’s, I imagine. Spell-cleaving, that bothersome white light, whatever else Day presides over.” Eris waved a hand aimlessly and shrugged. “He entered the world glowing, and I knew in that moment that Beron would kill him if he ever saw him use such power. So my mother did what she could to protect him, and made me swear to look after him.” Eris dragged a hand through his hair and then leaned his head back against the wall.

That explained the faint glow Azriel had noticed when Elain had smiled at the male. He’d thought he’d imagined it, but no…it was his true father’s power, shining through his skin. And Eris’s mother…

“Why does she remain with Beron?” Azriel asked, though he was fairly certain he knew the answer already.

“For me and my brothers,” was all Eris said. Azriel leaned against the wall beside him and followed Eris’s gaze up to the dark sky, sprinkled with twinkling stars. They were quiet for a while.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew Helion beyond formalities,” Azriel admitted into the silence with a wince. Eris laughed, low and smooth like velvet, and the sound danced over Azriel’s skin.

“Remind me again what Rhysand is paying you for?” Eris drawled. Azriel huffed a laugh and flicked Eris’s long nose.

“Don’t be a brat. Helion has only been High Lord for fifty years, and in that time he’s established himself as an ally to the Night Court. And he’s friends with Rhys.” Azriel shrugged. Helion had spent nearly all of his reign as High Lord under the mountain with Amarantha.

Azriel thought of Lucien, tried to recall any resemblance between father and son, but his mind drew up short.

“He certainly doesn’t behave like a mated male, what with all the times he’s invited me, Cassian and Mor to his bed.” Eris whipped his head to Azriel.

“Excuse me?” Azriel chuckled at the horrified expression on his face and the soft snarl that slipped through his lips. “Helion is a pain in my ass,” Eris bit out. Azriel’s amusement faded as Eris went on. “Autumn is no longer safe for my mother. Beron’s alliance with Koschei, the violent outbursts…I fear what might happen to her the next time he’s in a rage.” Eris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and Azriel studied his pale face, now etched with fear. “I was in Day to beg Helion to give her sanctuary, but he refused. Said he couldn’t force her to leave her home if it wasn’t what she wished.” The words were bitter with resentment.

Eris closed his eyes and took a deep breath before they found Azriel’s again. “I’m afraid for her,” he whispered.

Azriel reached out and folded Eris into his arms, held him tightly as he sagged against him. Another problem Azriel couldn’t fix, another burden on Eris’s shoulders. He didn’t know how the male managed it, but he was in awe of him every day.

“What’s your mother’s name?” Azriel realized he’d never heard it.

“Aurelia.” Eris smiled.

Azriel listened as Eris spoke of his childhood—of the good memories with his mother. She sounded like a gentle female, and he was grateful Eris had known kindness, despite growing up with Beron as a father. Eris asked him about the rest of his visit to Day and Azriel shared the brief details. They chatted about other, lighter things, for a while, and eventually they fell quiet, content to be together in silence.

It wasn’t long before Eris had to depart, so Azriel let him feel how desperate he was for him as he gripped his neck and crashed their lips together. He kissed him deeply, tongues twining together, and Eris moaned and pulled him closer.

Only when Eris was hard and panting for him did Azriel finally relent and pull back. Eris bit his bottom lip, and then licked away the hurt.

“How cruel of you to tease me so, knowing I can’t stay,” Eris said against his mouth, his voice a low, sensual caress that sent heat directly to Azriel’s groin.

Eris reached down and palmed Azriel through the fabric of his pants, squeezed him hard, and Azriel groaned into his lips. Eris drove his tongue into his mouth again and dragged his hand up his length, pressed the heel of his hand over the head of his cock. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Maybe they did have time—

Eris vanished, leaving Azriel painfully hard and alone on the roof. Azriel cursed as he adjusted himself in his pants.

He swore he could hear Eris’s wicked laughter on the wind as it brushed over his feverish skin. Wicked male. Those hands.

Azriel smiled and laughed, despite himself.

Tease, indeed.

***

The second Azriel arrived in Windhaven the following morning he wanted to leave. He hated this place. The winters were long and bitter, the wind always frigid. It battered his wings and sent chills skating along his spine. The people were just as cold as the weather.

He kept his distance from the camp lords and the warriors in the training rings as he inspected their progress, though it didn’t stop them from throwing loathing looks his way. He glared back at them. Cassian had always been better at dealing with the Illyrians, though even he had never managed to gain their respect, despite centuries of trying to work with them. Azriel had never wanted it.

He spent an hour observing, making note of which units were lacking in skill, and those that could use their ranks replenished. He noted which lords took the training seriously, as well as the ones who couldn’t help but sneer at him every time he walked past. Two years ago there had been whispers of rebellion, but the subsequent Blood Rite had wiped most of it out. He didn’t hear anything of that nature today, though he doubted they’d let slip any true discontent while he and his shadows were within earshot.

Before he headed to the next Illyrian village, he stopped by Emerie’s shop to deliver the package Nesta had given him. The store was clean and well taken care of, and it was clear she took a lot of pride in her work. He knew she faced pushback for owning it as a female, but it hadn’t seemed to dampen her determination. He approached the counter where she stood and placed the wrapped box on the smooth wooden surface.

“From Nesta,” he said. He watched her eyes light up when she beheld what was inside��the next chapter of Gwyn’s Valkyrie manuscript, from what he could tell. Azriel knew the Valkyries were still training frequently, but due to the recent events with Koschei several of their sessions had been canceled.

“Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He looked around the store, empty save for the two of them. The shelves were neatly stocked and free of dust. It was warm and inviting. He wondered if she got many customers.

“How have things been around here since the Blood Rite?”

Emerie eyed him skeptically. “Fine. Since when do you care about Illyria? I thought you’d washed your hands of it.” Azriel was startled by the cold edge to her voice. The accusation in it.

“I was asking about you,” he said carefully. “Have you been given any trouble by the camp lords?”

“There’s always trouble to be found. I can handle myself.” The words were clipped. Azriel couldn’t read her—didn’t know her well enough to determine if this was her usual demeanor or if he’d done something to offend her.

She was a proud female, and dearly loved by Nesta and Gwyn—and Cassian. She’d laughed and smiled freely during the few times he’d been present for their training. Perhaps being here made her more tense. More guarded. Or maybe she just didn’t like him. He didn’t know why it bothered him. Azriel tried another angle.

“You know you could always move to Velaris. We could have you out of here by the end of the week, if you want.” Emerie arched a dark brow at his offer, a slight frown on her face.

“I belong in Illyria. This is my home,” was all she said.

Azriel shifted his wings in discomfort. Emerie had been polite to him the few times they’d spoken, though they had barely exchanged more than a few words in passing. But the edge of resentment in her voice couldn’t be denied. “Tell Nesta thank you.” She turned around and flipped open the manuscript. A clear dismissal.

Azriel left her shop without saying anything else. He felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach, but he couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly, he was feeling guilty for. He racked his brain of all the conversations he’d ever had with Emerie, but nothing notable stood out. They hadn’t spoken enough to develop any sort of friendship.

He wondered at it—the fierce defense Emerie offered of Illyria, despite all it had done to her. The clipped wings, the abuse, the Blood Rite. Yet she insisted it was her home, and clearly had no interest in abandoning it.

As each beat of his wings took him farther and farther from the cold village of Windhaven, Azriel tried and failed to ignore the kernel of anxiety that burned in his stomach. Later that day, after inspecting a handful of the villages on his lengthy list, his thoughts returned to their conversation. He tried to shake off the unease, the guilt. But for some reason it lingered.

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