#Illyrian wings

[ennawrite]

Sue me but it’s not sexist to think Gwyn & Azriel could possibly be mates off of the Gwyn having “pliable bones” comment in a book where it was HEAVILY discussed (to the point of it being a whole god damn plot line) how women need a certain anatomy to birth Illyrian babies.

I also think it’s important to remember that at the end of the day, you are reading a book by SJM. There will probably be more babies.

[jules-writes-stories]

I've always questioned the ethics of Feyre "wearing" Illyrian wings (particularly for aesthetic or sexual purposes). This post stayed with me, and inspired this little story. CW for mention of wing clipping/brief mention of violence/Rhys and Feyre critical

below or on AO3

Valkyrie

For every Emerie who has ever held the door open for another. Your wings are perfect.

Illyria, The Night Court

She woke at dawn and stretched her arms, rubbing at the aches of her shoulders and lower back that came from holding up the deadweight of her wings. If they had not been clipped, these wings would have the muscle and strength to hold their own. 

If they had not been clipped, she would spend hours in flight. They would stay aloft or tuck neatly between her shoulders in a symmetrical resting position, as the Mother intended.

(cw below)

But instead, at the age of fourteen, after her first bleed, she was held down as the village healer sliced through the central tendons of each one. Five incisions in a starburst pattern. These made certain no rapid healing occurred.

No second chances for female flight. 

She dressed in the simple shift and rubbed ointment along the jagged silver scars, like rivulets running down the maroon membrane. The morning was crisp, the sky blue as a Siphon and Ramiel gleamed granite in the distance. 

Nodding to the camp mothers, she found her work site, cauldron already bubbling, laundry in the basket waiting to be boiled, scrubbed and rinsed. This was her lot. The brown skin of her hands and wrists was calloused and streaked with several more scars from the boiling water and caustic herbs used to remove blood stains and treat Illyrian fighting leathers. She healed quickly, but not perfectly. Nothing about her was perfect anymore. 

She lifted the heavy basket with a grunt, shifting it to her hip for better support and dumped the soiled clothes into the pot. Stirring, she hummed low and watched as the young males trained on the western steppes. 

In a few weeks, the young females would be offered a chance to train, but only those who were not bleeding, and only those who had finished all their chores, and only those whose fathers and brothers allowed. And only those who were brave enough to weather the names, and the looks, and the cold shoulders…

Sometimes, on slow days, when there wasn’t too much laundry, she let herself imagine that her wings were whole. That she could climb the cliff sides and leap from the heights. In free fall, the air and wind would propel her body, and at the last minute, right before she crashed upon the steppes, her wings would snap out to their fullest and she would coast along the wild grasses, their blades grazing her face. Or maybe she would take off from the peaks and pass straight up through the clouds, tasting rain and smelling ether. She laughed at herself then, but the sound held no music. 

“It will be your skin when the çamaşır shrinks, Asli.” A camp mother called out from the next fire. Damn. She’d let the laundry boil for too long. The Illyrian used the long wooden paddle and pulled the steaming clothes from the cauldron, praying it was not too late. Her skin already blistering as the water splashed her legs and forearms, burning her hands. 

A shadow dappled the sky above. A peal of laughter followed. She looked up. And there, leaping from a cliff’s edge, to the east, was a young female with golden brown hair and moon white skin. She was not Illyrian, yet she possessed Illyrian wings. They were enormous, unclipped, and perfect.

And for a heartbeat, the laundress wished on every star that ever graced the Night Court sky that she could have those wings. No, she did not even need those wings. She would be content with the ones on her back. Before she was held down. Before they were taken from her. 

The female leapt from the cliffside and with a wild whoop, her wings caught the wind and she banked, one with the current and the sky. How free, how magical it must be. There was a male flying beside her. Not any male. This was the High Lord and his High Lady. They continued to fly off into the horizon until they were mere specks in the vast sky. 

And the injustice of it coiled like a snake and struck. Its venom coursed through her veins. This twenty year old High Fae who shape shifted wings on a whim, taking pleasure in a birthright not her own. The Illyrian's rage was a living thing. For this was her sky. The wind was a song thrumming in her blood. 

The High Lord had made it illegal to cut a female’s wings, but he did not enforce it. He tried to help females learn to fight, but did not enforce it. Most powerful in history, but not powerful enough to stop an Illyrian farmer or soldier from tying a fourteen year old to a chair and breaking her body. From stopping a mob of warriors from throwing rocks at mothers who wished to learn how to block a blow.

How could the High Lady take such joy in flight and not defend the very females whose wings were still being clipped, when she knew firsthand the pleasure and power, the joy and freedom, that was being denied them? Instead, she blithely coasted above those whose wings would never extend to their full span or feel the wind catching so perfectly. Did she not see how hurtful it was, how harmful, to overlook the suffering of the very fae race she was impersonating? 

The laundress lay the clothes on the rocks and furiously beat out the blood stains. Her back ached and her hands were on fire as she watched her daughter, Banou, collect firewood at the edge of camp. Her little velveteen wings were still uncut, youthful talons still rounded. Her body was unbowed and unbroken, for now. The laundress had a thought. What if she got her daughter out before she could be bowed, broken, and clipped? And what if other younglings, they too, could get out? For if their High Lord truly could not protect them from the blades and rocks and fists that would inevitably come their way, then they would have to save themselves. 

What if Banou could one day leap from a cliffside, her perfect laughter pealing from the skies? Why should joy only be free for the rich and the powerful? The sky and stars should be the birthright of every Illyrian. And now, the laundress wanted this more than anything. Tonight, she would walk the mountain pass and seek out the one whose name was Emerie. The Valkyrie. 

She continued to scrub the blood stains from white linen, and this time, when she laughed, there was music. 

[small-z24]

One-Shot: A Shadow’s Legacy

Summary:

When Azriel and Y/N are tasked with babysitting Nyx, it stirs unexpected emotions and deep conversations about their future. As new challenges and surprises unfold, they face their fears and dreams together. Discover how their journey leads to a life-changing revelation and a heartwarming new chapter in their lives.

Word Count: 2343

Warnings: None

The serene twilight of Velaris was just beginning to settle as Azriel and Y/N arrived at the River House. Feyre and Rhysand had asked them to babysit Nyx for the evening while they attended a diplomatic meeting. Y/N had been thrilled by the request, her eyes sparkling with excitement, but Azriel seemed more apprehensive.

"Thank you for this," Feyre said, handing a giggling Nyx to Y/N. "It means a lot to us."

Y/N beamed. "We're happy to help. Aren't we, Azriel?"

Azriel nodded stiffly, his eyes on the tiny winged infant. "Of course," he said, though the edge of his voice suggested he was far from comfortable.

As Feyre and Rhysand departed, Y/N turned to Azriel with a playful grin. "Relax, Az. It's just one night."

Azriel huffed, crossing his arms. "I’m not sure I'm the best choice for this. I'm better with enemies, not infants."

Y/N laughed softly, adjusting Nyx in her arms. "You'll be fine. Besides, look at this little guy. He’s adorable."

Nyx cooed, reaching out to tug at Y/N's hair with a delighted giggle. Her heart melted instantly, and she found herself imagining what it would be like to have a child of her own. A child with Azriel’s dark hair and hazel eyes.

She shook the thought away, focusing on the present. "Let’s get him settled."

The evening went smoothly enough. Nyx was a cheerful baby, full of laughter and curiosity. Y/N was a natural, playing with him and making him laugh, while Azriel watched from a cautious distance. Every time Nyx made a sudden movement or loud noise, Azriel would tense, as if expecting an ambush.

Eventually, it was time for Nyx’s bedtime. Y/N carried him to his nursery, Azriel trailing behind. As she rocked Nyx gently, singing a soft lullaby, Azriel lingered by the door, his eyes softening as he watched the scene.

"Az," Y/N called softly, "come say goodnight."

He hesitated but finally stepped forward, his usually composed features revealing a hint of uncertainty. He reached out, brushing a gentle hand over Nyx's tiny wing. "Goodnight, little one," he murmured, his voice surprisingly tender.

Nyx gurgled happily, his eyes drooping as he succumbed to sleep. Y/N carefully placed him in his crib and turned to find Azriel watching her, a contemplative look in his eyes.

"See? You’re a natural," she whispered, smiling.

Azriel shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "You’re the natural. I’m just trying not to break anything."

Y/N moved closer, taking his hand. "You did great. And...seeing you with Nyx tonight made me think."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. "Think about what?"

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "About the future. About having a family. With you."

Azriel's eyes widened, surprise and emotion flickering across his face. "Y/N, I...I never thought about it. I never imagined...children."

Y/N squeezed his hand. "I know it’s a lot to think about. But seeing you with Nyx, it just felt right. Like this is something we could do. Together."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then he pulled her into a gentle embrace, his wings cocooning them in warmth. "If it’s with you," he whispered, "then I think I could do anything."

Y/N smiled against his chest, feeling a rush of love and certainty. "We’ll take it one step at a time. But I know you’ll be an amazing father, Az."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N knew that whatever the future held, they would face it together. And with Azriel by her side, she felt ready for anything.

The next day, Azriel found himself in the training grounds with Rhysand and Cassian. The morning sun cast a golden glow over the landscape, and the crisp air was filled with the sound of clashing swords and laughter as the Illyrian warriors trained.

Rhysand and Cassian noticed Azriel’s contemplative silence as they sparred. Finally, Cassian, never one to shy away from a probing question, lowered his sword and approached Azriel with a curious look.

"Alright, Az. Spill it. What’s got you so lost in thought today?" Cassian asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Rhysand joined them, a knowing smile on his face. "Yes, Azriel. You’ve been unusually quiet, even for you. Something on your mind?"

Azriel hesitated, glancing around to ensure they were alone. Taking a deep breath, he decided to confide in his brothers. "It’s about Y/N. And Nyx."

Rhysand's smile widened. "Ah, the babysitting adventure. How did it go?"

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It went fine. Y/N was amazing with Nyx, as expected. But it made her think about the future. About having a family. With me."

Cassian's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa. That’s big."

Rhysand's expression softened with understanding. "And how do you feel about it, Az?"

Azriel shifted uncomfortably, his wings twitching. "I don’t know. I’ve never thought about having children. With my past, with everything I’ve done...I’m not sure I’d be a good father."

Cassian clapped a reassuring hand on Azriel’s shoulder. "You’re not alone in feeling that way, Az. We all have our doubts. But you’ve got a good heart. And Y/N clearly believes in you."

Rhysand nodded in agreement. "Azriel, you’re one of the most honorable and caring people I know. You’ve protected this family, this court, with everything you have. I have no doubt you’d be a wonderful father."

Azriel’s eyes flickered with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. "But what if I can’t protect them? What if I fail?"

Cassian’s gaze was steady, his voice firm. "You won’t. And even if you stumble, you’ve got us. We’re family, Az. We’ll be there to support you and your family, no matter what."

Rhysand added, "Trust yourself, Az. You’re stronger than you realize. And you deserve happiness, a family of your own."

Azriel looked between his two brothers, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. Their words were reassuring, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in his fears. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I needed to hear that."

Cassian grinned. "Anytime, brother. Now, let’s get back to training. Can’t have you going soft on us, future dad or not."

Azriel chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders as they returned to their sparring. The conversation with Rhysand and Cassian had given him much to think about, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope about the future Y/N had envisioned for them.

As they trained, Azriel resolved to talk to Y/N again, to share his fears and hopes, and to take that next step together. Because with her by his side, he believed they could face anything— even the daunting prospect of starting a family.

That evening, Azriel found Y/N in the garden of the River House, surrounded by blooming night-blooming flowers that seemed to glow under the moonlight. She was sitting on a stone bench, gazing up at the stars. The sight of her, so peaceful and radiant, filled him with a sense of calm.

He approached quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the soft grass. "Y/N," he called gently, not wanting to startle her.

She turned, a smile spreading across her face when she saw him. "Azriel. Join me?"

He nodded, taking a seat beside her. For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the night sounds of Velaris creating a serene backdrop. Finally, Azriel took a deep breath, ready to open up about the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind all day.

"I talked to Rhys and Cassian today," he began, his voice steady but soft. "About what you said last night. About having a family."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze. "And what did they say?"

Azriel smiled faintly. "They were supportive. They think I’d make a good father."

Y/N reached out, taking his hand in hers. "They’re right, you know."

He squeezed her hand, his expression serious. "But I have my doubts, Y/N. My past...the things I’ve done. I worry that I’m not capable of being the kind of father a child deserves."

She moved closer, her eyes searching his. "Az, everyone has a past. But it’s who you are now that matters. And you are one of the most caring, protective, and honorable people I know. You’ve saved so many lives, including mine. That’s what matters."

He looked down, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I’m afraid of failing you. Of not being able to protect you and any children we might have."

Y/N cupped his cheek, making him look at her. "Azriel, you’ve never failed me. You’re always there, always strong. But it’s okay to be afraid. We’ll face those fears together. Just like we do everything else."

Her words soothed the turmoil inside him, her unwavering faith in him a balm to his doubts. He took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity and resolve. "I want this, Y/N. I want a family with you. But I need you to know that I’m scared."

She smiled, her eyes shining with love. "We’ll figure it out together, Az. One step at a time. And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way."

Azriel pulled her into a gentle embrace, his wings enveloping them both in a cocoon of warmth. "Thank you," he whispered against her hair. "For believing in me. For believing in us."

Y/N hugged him tightly, her heart full. "Always, Az. Always."

As they sat there under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, Azriel felt a newfound sense of hope and determination. With Y/N by his side, he felt ready to face the future—whatever it might hold. And for the first time, he allowed himself to dream of a family, a life filled with love and happiness, with her.

A few months later, Y/N stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, her heart pounding in her chest. She had suspected it for a while, but now it was confirmed. She was expecting a child.

Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand on her still-flat stomach, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within her. She knew she needed to tell Azriel, but the weight of the news made her hesitate. How would he react?

Gathering her courage, she went to find Azriel. He was in the library, engrossed in a book, his wings folded neatly behind him. As she approached, he looked up, a smile lighting up his face.

"Hey," he greeted, setting the book aside. "Everything okay?"

Y/N took his hand, her fingers trembling slightly. "Az, I have something to tell you."

Concern flickered in his eyes as he stood, his hands gently cupping her face. "What is it, love?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Azriel’s eyes widened, his expression a mix of shock and wonder. "Y/N...are you serious?"

She nodded, tears of joy welling in her eyes. "Yes, Az. We’re going to have a baby."

A slow, radiant smile spread across his face, and he pulled her into a tight embrace, his wings wrapping around them both. "We’re going to have a baby," he repeated, awe in his voice. "I can’t believe it."

Y/N laughed through her tears, holding him close. "Believe it, Az. We’re going to be parents."

They stood there for a long moment, reveling in the joy of the news. Finally, Azriel pulled back slightly, his eyes shining with love. "We need to tell the others. They’ll be thrilled."

A few hours later, the Night Court gathered in the main hall of the River House. Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, and Amren were all present, curiosity evident on their faces.

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You called us all here for a reason, Azriel. What’s going on?"

Azriel exchanged a glance with Y/N, his hand squeezing hers for reassurance. Together, they stepped forward.

"We have some news," Y/N began, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "We’re expecting a baby."

The room erupted in cheers and congratulations. Feyre rushed forward, enveloping Y/N in a warm hug. "That’s wonderful news!" she exclaimed. "I’m so happy for you both."

Cassian clapped Azriel on the back, a proud grin on his face. "Looks like you’re going to be a dad, brother. Congratulations."

Mor hugged them both, tears in her eyes. "I’m so happy for you two."

Even Amren, usually stoic, offered a rare smile. "Congratulations. The child will be lucky to have you both as parents."

As the celebrations continued, Azriel and Y/N shared a quiet moment together, their hands intertwined. "We did it," Y/N whispered, her eyes shining with happiness.

Azriel kissed her forehead, his heart full. "Yes, we did."

Months later, Y/N was in the birthing room, Azriel by her side. The labor was intense, but she drew strength from his steady presence. Finally, with one last push, the cries of their newborn filled the room.

The healer gently placed their baby girl in Y/N’s arms. She had tiny wings, just like her father, and dark hair that framed her cherubic face.

Azriel looked down at their daughter, tears in his eyes. "She’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Y/N smiled, exhausted but elated. "She looks just like you, Az."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to their daughter’s forehead. "Welcome to the world, little one," he murmured. "We love you so much."

As they cradled their newborn daughter, surrounded by the love and support of their family, Azriel felt a profound sense of peace and fulfillment. This was their new beginning, a future filled with love, joy, and the promise of a lifetime of happiness together.

[tothestarsinvelaris]

Sometimes I think about how the Illyrians and other winged characters need to have little slits in the back of all their clothes to accommodate their wings but like....

how big are the slits? Are they stretchy at all or are they just like... baggy against their backs? Do their backs get cold from the breeze? bc their wings are like... smaller where they attach to their back than they are in the middle, but the shirts need to fit over the biggest part of the wings so like... do they cinch closed in some way? How do they pull the shirts on over their wings? Do they all button or tie up in the front so they're like pulling it on over their wings first, then arms, then closing it up at the front? Do they need to have their shirts specially made to accommodate different wingspans or is it like a universal thing among the Illyrians / angels etc?

so many questions...

[thewickedjenny]

A little paint splattered Illyrian wing ornament anyone? 👀🦇✨🥣🎨 It’s single-sided, measures approximately 2.75 inches long.

Available in my Etsy shop!

If you repost anywhere, please credit me wherever you do so. I put a lot of work into my pieces. ✨💀🎨

[reblogandlikes]

So random, but has it ever been explained how Illyrian, Seraphims, Malakim or any winged being in SJM's books wear uperbody clothing?

How the fuck can you put on a T-shirt, Hunt? When Rhysand magically brings out his wings, does it just rip through his normal clothes to accommodate them? How do you get wings comfortably through armour unless it's pre sectioned out?

I'd like to think their shirts would always be fastened at the back with material precut to leave spaces for wings by going around them. Or just strut around in backless tops like bad bitches. Or is it just magic?

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Can people just leave Nessian alone 🥲 they’re my favorite ship. Stop with the theories that she’ll leave him or he’ll die 💔💔😭 I can’t take it.

[romantasyreader28]

This sounds like ACOTAR

Eldest daughter struggles

[kaelderdoer]

The freedom she must feel when being carried by the wind in her wings high in the sky, has to be exhilarating ✨🖤

[jamie-photo]

Delve into the captivating world of A Court of Thorns and Roses with this mesmerizing ACOTAR Inspired Embroidery Pattern 2 PACK. This digital pattern features intricate details, bringing to life the magic, romance, and adventure of Prythian. Inspired by the Night Court and the unbreakable love between Rhysand + Feyre.

[ennawrite]

the maasverse is so funny when you think about it like wdym a chewed off hand and wings cut at the base can be regrown in one world but wings can’t be unclipped in another??? But also SHREDDED wings can be mended (only if they’re male wings, though) but they still haven’t figured out how to cut a baby from the womb…

Screw the shipwars, lets get one of these bastards into med school 😭

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Another reason Illyrian wings are badly thought through: they have no natural insulation from cold and ILLYRIANS LIVE AT HIGH ALTITUDES IN COOL CLIMATES. Literally on and and in and around mountains.

I was about to make a joke about frostbiting your genitals, but I'm pretty sure I can't beat Prince Harry's frostbitten todger, so we are going to just leave it there.

[luna-art-12]

One of my favourite things I've ever made 😍😍

Available as stickers, magnets, pins and etc.

[acomaflove]

Rhysand and Azriel: *walk into the room laughing*

Feyre: SHHHHHH! You’ll wake the baby.

Rhysand, whispering: I thought Mor was babysitting Nyx tonight?

Feyre: She is.

Rhysand:

Feyre:

Azriel:

Rhysand, LOUDLY whispering: THEN WHO IS THE BABY?!?

Feyre: *points to Cassian passed out on the sofa*

Rhysand: You did not just refer to a 500+ year old war general as a BABY.

Feyre: Correction: An Illyrian Baby.

[jartist5647]

Cassian the General Commander of the Night Courts Armies 🦇✨💪🏼

I always imagined him having some definite facial hair, just feels like it matches the gruff man he is 🫦

[lainalit]

Tamlin antis: Ew Tamlin getting on his knees and begging Rhysand to spare feyre in book one is such an ICK! Good thing Rhysand never needs to beg or ask tAmPoN for help with anything since he is so pOwErFuL & knows everything

Fast forward Acosf where pregnant feyre was told not to shapeshift by a non-shapeshifter medic and Rhysand being too proud to ask for help by the only other known shapeshifter within the series who feyre got her powers from about it