#a Court of mist and fury

[bindinglove]

the fact that the previous reblog was also tamlin and rhysand tags !!!

starting a collection

[profound-imagination]

In The Shadow Of You - Azriel Shadowsinger

A/N: Girlypops I fear I’ve cooked with this one, apparently I can write now?? Longest fic to date!

T/W: Angst with a happy ending.

W/C: 11.7k

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“What…what are you doing here?” Eight-year-old Azriel stuttered at his two older brothers. His voice trembled, caught between fear and confusion. Their smiles were cruel, sharp like knives meant to cut.

The younger of the two moved faster than Azriel could react, and in a flash, he found himself pinned to the dirty ground of his cell, his small hands forced outstretched.

The eldest loomed over him, grinning with twisted satisfaction. “We’re conducting an experiment, little brother,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet. “And you’re going to help us.”

Azriel barely had time to process his words before it happened. Fire. Blinding, searing pain erupted across his palms, crawling up his arms like molten rivers. He screamed, hoarse and broken, the sound reverberating off the stone walls of his cage. He screamed until his voice gave out, until the smoke settled, and the flames were doused.

“It’s too late for your hands,” the healers told him afterward, almost casually, as if they hadn’t just destroyed something vital and irreparable. The gauze wrapped around his hands felt suffocating, an unbearable weight, and the agony robbed him of any reprieve. They left him there—crying, trembling, and utterly alone.

The pain kept him awake, tossing and turning on the filthy floor. Every shift in position was a new jolt of agony, every heartbeat a reminder of what he’d lost. He was trying not to sob when a voice broke through the dark.

“If you keep focusing on the pain, it’ll never go away.”

Azriel froze, stiffening like a cornered animal. The voice was soft, melodic even, but it didn’t belong. He shoved himself back against the cold wall of his cell, making himself as small as possible.

“Relax,” the voice said gently. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It was then that he saw her—a girl, no older than him, standing just beyond the dim glow of the torchlight. Shadows clung to her like a second skin, weaving in and out of her form as if they were alive. They shaped her dress, her hair, her very presence.

“How did you get in here?” he asked, his voice a broken rasp. Why that had been his first question, he didn’t know.

She grinned, a mischievous tilt of her lips that didn’t match the bleakness of his surroundings. “I can get into anywhere I want,” she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest. The shadows rippled with the movement, and Azriel couldn’t look away.

“Do you like them?” she asked, beaming as she spun in place. Her shadows flared around her like an elaborate display.

He nodded dumbly. “Are they…shadows?”

“Yes, they are!” she said brightly. Then, her expression softened as she looked him over. “How’d you end up in here?”

Azriel recoiled at the question, his fragile defenses snapping into place. “None of your business,” he bit out. “Look, I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but you need to leave before you get in trouble.”

She laughed—a clear, chiming sound that felt wrong in the darkness. “I guess you don’t want the gift I brought you, then.”

He blinked, taken aback. No one had ever given him a gift before.

“…What is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her grin widened. The cell darkened further, the air growing heavy with the press of shadow. A wind swept through the hall, howling like a warning. When the darkness cleared, Azriel could see her more clearly, her form sharper as some of her shadows seemed to have dispersed.

“Learn to use them well,” she said, her voice low and solemn now. “Become a Shadowsinger. I’ve given you the tools—you need to do the rest.”

Azriel’s heart pounded as the shadows around him seemed to come alive, whispering to him in a language he couldn’t yet understand.

“Wait!” he called out, scrambling to his knees. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, her grin softening into something more sincere. “Y/N,” she said at last.

He nodded, clutching the name like a lifeline. “Mine’s Azriel.”

“I know,” she said softly. And then, as quickly as she’d appeared, the shadows consumed her, and she was gone.

When Azriel was eleven, he was dumped unceremoniously at Windhaven, an Illyrian war camp. He was already far behind the other boys, who could fly and wield weapons with ease. Meanwhile, Azriel could barely lift a blade.

His humiliation was swift and brutal. A boy much larger than him—Cassian, he later learned—knocked him to the ground with a single punch. Another boy, Rhysand, watched from a distance, laughing. Azriel hated them both instantly.

He lay sprawled in the snow, blood dripping from his lip, when he heard her voice again.

“Well, I think that went well,” Y/N said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Shut up,” he hissed, lifting his head to glare at her.

She circled him slowly, her shadows twisting around her. “You know,” she drawled, “if you worked harder with your shadows, they’d have warned you those jerks were coming.”

Azriel scowled, brushing the snow off his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you’re getting on.” She crouched in front of him, tilting her head as she studied him. “Apparently not well.”

He sat up, glaring at her. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Figure it out,” she said with a shrug. “You’re a Shadowsinger.”

“What does that even mean? What even is a Shadowsinger?” he demanded, his frustration boiling over.

Her gaze softened slightly. “You are,” she said simply. “You’ll figure it out.”

Branches snapped behind him, and Y/N’s expression shifted. “You need to befriend them,” she said, nodding toward the approaching boys. “And I need to go.”

Before he could stop her, she was gone.

Azriel’s bond with Y/N grew in fragments, scattered moments where she appeared unannounced, always leaving just as abruptly. She was a ghost in his life, a shadow that flitted in and out, giving him cryptic advice and disappearing before he could ask the questions that burned in his chest.

By the time Azriel turned fifteen, her absence felt heavier. She hadn’t visited in over a year, and he began to wonder if she’d ever been real at all. Perhaps she’d been a figment of his imagination, conjured by a desperate, broken child who needed someone—anyone—to pull him from the darkness.

But the shadows she’d gifted him were real. They whispered to him, wrapped around him protectively when he faltered. They showed him things he couldn’t see on his own. And yet, every time he reached for them fully, they pulled back, as if waiting for him to prove himself worthy.

Azriel sat alone on the outskirts of Windhaven, his wings aching from a day of relentless training. Cassian had beaten him—again—and Rhysand had laughed, though there was no malice in it anymore. They weren’t enemies anymore, not really, but Azriel couldn’t bring himself to call them friends, either.

He stared at his hands, the scars crisscrossing his palms a constant reminder of what he’d lost. The moonlight caught on the edges of his bandaged knuckles, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself cry.

“That’s a new look for you.”

The voice cut through the night like a blade, and Azriel’s head snapped up.

There she was, leaning against a nearby tree, her arms crossed and her head tilted in mock amusement. The shadows danced around her, as lively as ever, and he swore they seemed happy to see him.

He scrubbed at his face quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. “You’re back,” he said, his voice rough.

“I never left,” she said, shrugging as if it were obvious. “You just stopped looking for me.”

He bristled, the sting of her words sharper than he expected. “I didn’t stop looking,” he muttered, standing to face her fully.

“Didn’t you?” she teased, though her eyes softened. “You’ve been busy. Learning to fly, getting your ass handed to you in sparring. Very entertaining, by the way.”

Azriel clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “Why do you do that?” he snapped.

Her brows lifted, her grin faltering. “Do what?”

“Disappear. Act like none of this matters to you. Like I don’t matter.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

Y/N blinked, her expression unreadable. “Azriel,” she said carefully, stepping closer, “I—”

“No,” he cut her off, his shadows flaring around him, mirroring his frustration. “I’ve waited for you. For years. And you show up whenever it suits you, like I’m just some…some project to you!”

Her gaze flickered, and for a moment, he thought he saw guilt in her eyes. But it was gone just as quickly.

“I’m not your project,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I’m not…I’m not some broken thing you can fix and forget about.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. Instead, her shadows curled around her, dimming the space between them.

“I gave you the tools to survive,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “I never promised anything else.”

Azriel felt the air leave his lungs, his chest tightening painfully. “Why?” he asked, barely more than a whisper. “Why did you save me? Why do you keep coming back?”

She hesitated, her shadows stilling around her. Then, with a sad smile, she said, “Because you remind me of someone I couldn’t save.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Azriel stared at her, his throat dry, his heart hammering in his chest.

“So that’s all I am?” he choked out. “A replacement?”

She didn’t answer. She only stepped back, the shadows consuming her once more. “You’re stronger than you think, Azriel,” she said, her voice echoing as she vanished. “You don’t need me.”

But he did. He needed her more than anything, and as the silence settled around him, Azriel sank to his knees, his shadows curling around him like a shroud.

The years passed, and Azriel grew into his role as the Illyrian spymaster. The shadows became an extension of him, whispering secrets, cloaking him in anonymity, making him deadly. But with every mission, every battle, he found himself waiting for her. Searching.

Sometimes, she came.

She appeared the night before his first battle in the war. Azriel sat alone by the fire, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug, his shadows restless in the dark. He could feel the weight of the coming fight pressing on his chest, the fear he couldn’t voice clawing at his throat.

“Pensive as always,” came that familiar, teasing voice.

He nearly dropped his mug, whipping around to see her leaning against a tree. She hadn’t changed—she never did. The same sharp grin, the same restless shadows, but as she stepped closer, Azriel noticed something: she was now the same age as him. The years had caught up to her, and she looked as real and tangible as anyone else.

She met his gaze, and for the first time, Azriel found himself at a loss for words. She wasn’t just the mysterious, untouchable figure who had first appeared in his cell; she was a woman now, with fire in her eyes and a strength that matched his own.

“You’re late,” he muttered, though the relief in his voice betrayed him.

“Am I?” She crossed her arms, her smile faltering as she stepped closer. “You’ve grown,” she said, her tone softer now. Her gaze lingered on the hard lines of his face, the broadness of his shoulders.

Azriel couldn’t help but stare at her, his heart racing for reasons he couldn’t understand. He had always seen her as this untouchable being—someone apart from the world. But now, looking at her, something shifted in him. She was beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered before he could stop himself.

Her eyes widened for a split second, and for the briefest moment, Azriel saw her guard drop. Then she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile curving her lips.

“Finally noticing, huh?” she teased, her voice light but there was something deeper in her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his admission. “Why are you here?”

“To remind you,” she said, crouching in front of him. Her shadows curled around her like a shield, as if they could protect her from the truth in her own words. “That you can’t protect everyone. That sometimes, no matter how hard you try, people die.”

The words hit him like a blow, and he flinched. “What kind of encouragement is that?”

“It’s the truth,” she said simply, standing again. “And it’s something you’ll need to learn if you’re going to survive this war.”

He stared at her, anger and hurt warring in his chest. “Is that why you gave me these shadows? To prepare me for failure?”

Her gaze softened, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped closer, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “Live through tomorrow, Azriel. That’s all you have to do.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Y/N didn’t visit when he met Morrigan, but Azriel thought of her often. As he fell for Mor, captivated by her fire and fearlessness, a part of him wondered what Y/N would think of her. Would she approve? Would she mock him for falling for someone so unattainable?

The next time Y/N appeared, it was years later, after Mor had made it clear that her heart would never belong to him.

“She doesn’t deserve your devotion, you know,” Y/N said, materializing beside him one night as he sharpened Truth-Teller.

Azriel didn’t flinch this time, didn’t even look at her. “You don’t know her.”

“I know you,” she replied, tilting her head. “And I know she doesn’t see you the way you want her to. She never will.”

He slammed the blade down, his shadows flaring. “Why do you care? You disappear for years and show up just to remind me of everything I can’t have?”

Her smile faltered, her shadows stilling around her. “I care because I’ve seen this before,” she said quietly. “I’ve watched someone pour their heart into a dream that was never theirs to hold. It doesn’t end well.”

Azriel swallowed hard, her words cutting too close. “And what about you?” he asked. “What’s your excuse for running every time I need you?”

Her shadows tightened around her like armor, and she took a step back. “You’ve never needed me, Azriel,” she said, her voice cool. “You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

And then she was gone again, leaving him with nothing but his shadows and the ache in his chest.

By the time the second war began, Azriel’s heart was no longer tangled in Mor. Instead, it was pulled toward Elain—gentle, golden Elain, who looked at him with something close to understanding. She had never spoken of love, never promised him anything, but her presence calmed something in him. He found solace in her gentleness.

But Y/N’s presence still lingered, a phantom in his mind. She visited less frequently now, each appearance more fleeting than the last. Still, he thought of her as he prepared for war, wondering if she’d show herself one last time.

She did.

It was after the final battle, when Azriel had been struck down and left bleeding in the mud. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his thoughts consumed by Elain’s face. He imagined her by his side, her soft hands tending to his wounds.

When he finally opened his eyes, it wasn’t Elain sitting beside him.

It was Y/N.

Her hands trembled as they pressed against his wound, her shadows swirling erratically around her. Her face was pale, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“You’re awake,” she breathed, her voice cracking.

Azriel blinked, disoriented. “Y/N…?”

Her lip trembled, and she looked away, focusing on his bandages. “You almost died,” she said, her tone raw. “You stupid, reckless fool.”

He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down, her hands firm against his chest. “Stay still,” she snapped, though her voice shook.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She froze, her gaze locking onto his. For the first time, he saw the cracks in her armor—the grief and pain she’d always hidden.

“Because I’ve been here before,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “With someone I couldn’t save. I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch it happen again.”

Azriel’s heart stopped. “Who?” he asked softly.

Her shadows curled around her protectively, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did matter. Because in that moment, Azriel realized that Y/N’s walls weren’t built to keep him out—they were built to keep her pain in.

“Y/N…” he started, his chest tightening. “What happened?”

She swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. Her hand shook as it pressed against his wound. “It’s not you, Azriel. It’s me. I can’t lose anyone else.” Her voice cracked with the weight of unsaid words.

Azriel’s breath faltered as he reached up, gripping her wrist weakly. “You’re not losing me,” he whispered, trying to ease her trembling hand. His eyes searched hers, desperate to understand.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she murmured, her voice raw, but there was a flicker of something between them—something unspoken, something more than just the shadows between them.

He winced as pain lanced through him, but his focus never left her. “You’re afraid. I can see it, Y/N. What happened to you? What are you hiding from me?”

Her eyes flashed, and she jerked her hand away from him, stepping back as if she couldn’t bear to be near him. “I’m not hiding anything,” she snapped, but there was a tremor in her voice. “I’m trying to save you, Azriel. Just let me do this.”

He watched her, struggling to sit up once more, despite the pain gnawing at him. “I’ve never seen you like this,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve never seen you unsure. Never seen you afraid.”

She flinched at his words, but she didn’t look away. For the first time in all the years he’d known her, Y/N seemed human—fragile, vulnerable, as if she was teetering on the edge of something too painful to face.

“I’ve always been sure of one thing,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “That I couldn’t let you die like this. But maybe… maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s just a matter of time.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his chest. “Don’t say that.”

But her eyes were distant, haunted, as if she had already seen the future he feared most. She took a shaky breath, forcing a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Rest now, Azriel. I’ll be here when you wake.”

And despite the warmth of her touch, despite the care she showed him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was already slipping away from him. That, no matter what, she would always be just beyond his reach.

The night was quiet—too quiet for Azriel’s liking. He had been staring at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep, despite the comfort of the warm bed and the endless fussing from his family. Elain had been by his side all day, her delicate hands tending to him with concern, constantly checking his wounds and offering comfort, but it didn’t ease the ache in his chest.

The ache wasn’t from the physical pain, but from the lingering thoughts of Y/N—the girl who had been with him through so much, only to retreat into the shadows yet again. He hadn’t seen her since that night at the war camp, when she had pulled him back from the edge. His shadows were restless, whispering to him, and he felt an odd sense of longing for her presence.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard the faintest rustle in the air—the whisper of shadows—and then, the unmistakable warmth of her presence. He stiffened, his breath catching, his heart skipping a beat as the room seemed to shift around him.

And then, there she was—Y/N.

She stepped into the room so quietly that Azriel wasn’t sure if he was imagining it at first. But no, he could feel her—sense her—just as he always had, only there was something different. She didn’t look the same as she had before.

Her once abundant shadows, swirling around her with their usual energy, now seemed… muted. Faint. Almost like they were retreating into her skin, leaving her exposed in a way Azriel had never seen. Her usual wraith-like appearance, so fluid and untouchable, had softened. The shadows didn’t cling to her the same way. Instead, they hovered at a distance, as though afraid to touch her.

He noticed it immediately. It was subtle—almost too subtle for anyone else to catch—but to Azriel, who had always seen the world through the lens of shadows, it was glaring.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat as he studied her, trying to make sense of the change. His shadows hummed softly, picking up on the strange shift in the air around them. “What happened to your shadows?”

Y/N paused, the faintest hint of a wince passing over her features. She didn’t answer him right away, her gaze flickering down to the floor as if she was gathering her thoughts.

“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m fine.”

Azriel frowned, unwilling to let it go. He was too perceptive, too attuned to the ebb and flow of shadows to ignore it. “You’re not fine,” he said, his voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing on him. “There’s less of them.”

Her eyes flickered with something that was either guilt or sorrow—it was hard to tell, but whatever it was, it made Azriel’s stomach twist.

She took a slow breath and approached the bed, her presence now as heavy as the shadows she had once carried so effortlessly. There was a shift in her energy, and the deeper he looked, the more he noticed. The scars on her skin were faint, almost imperceptible in the dim light, but they were there. They marred her otherwise flawless complexion, a delicate tracery of lines that seemed to be almost a part of her now—woven into the fabric of who she was.

Azriel’s breath caught. “What are those?” he whispered, his hand instinctively reaching out toward her arm.

Y/N flinched, though she didn’t pull away. She held his gaze for a long moment before she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “They’re nothing, Azriel. Just… remnants.”

“Remnants?” he echoed, his brow furrowing. “What happened to you?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she placed her hand gently on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat with a tenderness that sent a pang of something deep into his soul. She was always so careful, so careful of him, yet never letting him in. Not fully.

“I needed to hear it, Azriel,” she said, her voice soft, almost apologetic. “To know it’s still there.”

Her head rested gently against his chest again, her ear pressed to the steady beat of his heart. Azriel’s hand hesitated in the air between them, but then he settled it on her head, his fingers brushing her hair with a quiet tenderness.

“You don’t need to worry,” he murmured, though his voice wavered with the weight of his own concern. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N didn’t respond, though she squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to hold back something. A tear, maybe, or something much heavier. She stayed there for a moment, listening to his heartbeat, as though it was the only thing in the world that could ground her.

Azriel’s eyes flickered toward the shadows around her once more. Now that he was closer, he could see it more clearly. They were less vibrant, more faded than before. He could feel the absence of something that had always been there. But it wasn’t just her shadows—it was her.

“Y/N…” His voice trembled with realization, and his hand reached out, his fingers brushing the faint scars on her arm. “You gave them to me, didn’t you?”

Her eyes shot open, wide and panicked for a fraction of a second before she regained control of herself. She pulled away from him quickly, as if to hide the truth that was written all over her.

But it was too late. Azriel had already seen the way the scars tracked down her skin, the way her shadows had diminished as though they were tethered to him. Her heart was in her shadows. She had given him pieces of herself.

She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the floor as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

“How long?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath. “How long have you been giving them to me?”

Y/N hesitated, and then, her voice low and filled with an unspeakable sadness, she answered. “Since the beginning. From the moment I gave you the gift of shadows. I knew you needed it to survive.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his chest. “But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?”

Her lips trembled, and she took a step back, crossing her arms around herself as if the distance would protect her from his words. “Because I knew you wouldn’t let me do it. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me, Azriel. I couldn’t risk you thinking you owed me something. I gave you the shadows because it was the only way to save you.”

Azriel’s heart shattered. “You’ve been giving me everything,” he whispered, his voice raw. “And I never even knew.”

Y/N didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared down at her hands, clenching them into fists as if trying to hold herself together. “It wasn’t for you to know. You just needed to live.”

Azriel reached for her then, his hands trembling as he pulled her closer. “I’m alive because of you, Y/N. I’m here because of you.”

She didn’t pull away. She let him hold her, and this time, Azriel couldn’t ignore the hollow feeling that gnawed at him—the knowledge that she had been silently, desperately giving parts of herself to keep him alive, even at the cost of her own well-being.

“You’ve given me more than enough,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll spend my life making sure you don’t regret it.”

Azriel’s heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t from pain anymore. It was from the realization of everything Y/N had given him, everything she had silently sacrificed in the shadows to keep him alive. The weight of her unspoken devotion hung heavy between them, filling the quiet room with an intensity that neither of them could ignore.

They lay there for a long time, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, while Y/N remained curled beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. The shadows that had once surrounded her so densely were now distant, fading into the edges of the room. It was like the air itself had changed, as though everything in their shared silence was leading to something unspoken, something fragile that neither of them dared to break.

Azriel didn’t know how long they stayed there, but it didn’t matter. In this moment, the world outside the House of Wind didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat—nothing else mattered.

His hand found hers again, their fingers barely touching, but the contact sent a shiver through him. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the soft pulse of her blood beneath the surface. He could feel how much she had given, and how much he still didn’t understand.

He lifted his head slightly to look at her, and for the first time, he saw Y/N fully. He saw her not as the mysterious girl who had given him shadows, nor as the constant presence that always seemed to be there when he needed her. But as a woman—one who had loved him from the beginning, in the quietest, most selfless way imaginable.

His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She didn’t pull away, and instead, she looked at him with eyes full of emotions she hadn’t yet shared.

“You’ve always been there,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Even when I didn’t see you.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and something stirred within him. The air felt charged—heavy with everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d buried deep inside themselves.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She seemed to hesitate, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. Azriel couldn’t tear his gaze away from her lips, couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—the one where everything was laid bare between them—was finally leading somewhere. Somewhere they both knew they needed to go.

Slowly, cautiously, Azriel leaned in. His breath mingled with hers, their proximity so close, he could feel the heat of her skin and the pulse of her heartbeat beneath his palm. He hovered there, just a breath away, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The shadows in the room held their breath, waiting for whatever might come next.

But then—

Bang!

The door to the room swung open with such force that Azriel and Y/N jerked apart, the moment shattered like glass.

Azriel’s heart dropped. Y/N, sensing the intrusion, didn’t hesitate. Before Azriel could even process what had happened, the shadows around her began to ripple and twist, pulling her into the darkness. She disappeared completely, leaving no trace of her presence behind, not even a whisper of shadow.

Azriel blinked, his heart still pounding in the aftermath, but he couldn’t understand what had just happened. She was gone, like smoke on the wind, and he was left alone, with the deafening silence echoing in his ears.

Elain stood in the doorway, her face flushed with concern. “Azriel! I heard you moving—what’s—” Her eyes flicked from Azriel to the now-closed door behind her, confusion clouding her expression as she searched the room. She had clearly heard someone, or sensed something—had she noticed the faint shift in the air? Azriel wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“I’m fine,” Azriel managed, his voice tight as he rubbed his face with a weary hand. His heart was still racing, but he forced himself to focus on Elain. “You can stop worrying.”

Elain stepped further into the room, her eyes softening, though a flicker of doubt still lingered in her gaze. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Azriel,” she said gently, crossing the room to sit beside him on the bed. Her hand settled on his arm, her touch warm and comforting, but there was a shift between them. Azriel could feel it—like a crack in the facade that neither of them was addressing.

Azriel didn’t want to acknowledge the absence of Y/N, the quiet ache that was left behind in her wake. It felt like a betrayal to even think of her now, when Elain was here, caring for him, doing everything right. But the gnawing emptiness in his chest wouldn’t go away. He had come so close to something—something he hadn’t known he wanted—and now it was gone.

“I’m fine,” Azriel repeated, this time with more force, trying to push aside the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He didn’t look at Elain, couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “Really.”

She smiled, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her expression. “You don’t have to be fine, Azriel. Not with me.”

Azriel nodded, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending that everything was as it should be—especially when his heart still ached with the memory of a woman who had vanished into the shadows, leaving only the echoes of her love behind.

As the door closed softly behind Elain, Azriel sat there in silence, his heart heavy with regret, with questions that he knew would never be answered. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare speak, as he tried to reconcile the absence of Y/N with the present reality.

The days that followed felt like a blur, with Elain at his side, her concern and kindness a balm for his wounds, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on her, his mind kept drifting back to the shadows—back to the woman who had given him life, but who would never be his.

The days blurred into one another, each one feeling the same as the last. Y/N stood in the shadows, as she had so many times before, watching Azriel from the distance. But this time, it was different. She watched him, not just as the silent observer she had always been, but as someone who felt the sting of every quiet touch, every soft smile he exchanged with Elain.

It was impossible to ignore, impossible to escape. There they were—Azriel and Elain—two souls who were drawn together by something so much more than Y/N could ever be. It hurt in ways that she didn’t understand, but every time they passed by her, lost in each other, it felt like a dagger piercing her heart.

Over the next few months, Y/N saw it all. She saw them taking their walks down the Sidra, Azriel’s arm casually draped around Elain’s shoulders as they strolled beneath the stars. She could hear their laughter, soft and shared, mingling with the sounds of the city. Their voices were always so low, so intimate, like they had a language of their own that Y/N could never hope to understand.

She watched them walk around the Rainbow, too. Azriel would lean in close to Elain, the two of them sharing whispered words as they gazed out over the city. Y/N could see the way Elain’s face softened in Azriel’s presence, the way his eyes seemed to linger on her, like she was the only one who mattered in that moment.

And then there were the small moments—those private, quiet exchanges that felt like they were meant for no one else. They would go to the bakery together, Elain picking out pastries while Azriel stood close beside her, his hand brushing against hers as they laughed over which cakes to buy. It was all so simple, so perfect, and Y/N stood on the edges of it, never invited, never included. She could only watch, her heart twisting with each passing moment.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to retreat into the shadows and never come out. But something held her there—something that made it impossible to look away. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she had given Azriel something so profound, something so intimate, yet he was looking for something else entirely. Something that she couldn’t provide.

As the Solstice approached, Y/N felt the weight of everything that had passed between them. The tension in her chest grew with every passing day. She had seen how Azriel and Elain had grown closer. She had felt it, too—felt the quiet ache that came with the realization that no matter what she had done, no matter how much of herself she had given, it would never be enough.

Solstice night arrived, bringing with it the cold chill of winter and the warmth of the city. The streets of Velaris sparkled with light, the stars above bright as they twinkled down on the festivities. Music drifted through the air, and Y/N found herself standing at the balcony once more, watching Azriel and Elain from the shadows.

They were together, of course, as they always were now. Azriel was laughing softly at something Elain had said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her, and Y/N felt that familiar ache in her chest again. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to be the one to stand on the sidelines, watching their happiness from afar. But she couldn’t help herself.

They were walking toward the balcony now, the noise of the celebration fading as they grew closer. Y/N hesitated, almost wanting to step away, but something kept her rooted to the spot. The air around them was thick with something unspoken, and she could feel it—the connection, the pull that had always been there between Azriel and herself, but now tangled up with Elain.

Azriel paused just beside her, his presence so close she could feel the heat of his body. He was still laughing softly, his gaze lingering on Elain with a warmth that Y/N couldn’t deny. And then, for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

Azriel and Elain were standing so close to one another, their bodies just inches apart. Y/N could see the way their eyes met, the soft, intimate look they shared. For a heartbeat, it was like time had stopped—just the three of them, frozen in that moment. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, watching the slow, inevitable progression of what she had known all along.

Azriel’s gaze flickered to Elain’s lips, and Y/N’s stomach churned as she realized what was about to happen. She wanted to turn away. She wanted to leave and never look back, but she was rooted to the spot, unable to escape.

Azriel leaned in slowly, his breath catching in his throat as he moved closer to Elain. Y/N could feel the pull, the tension in the air that seemed to crackle with anticipation. It was happening—he was going to kiss her. The kiss that Y/N had known was coming, but it still tore through her, nonetheless.

Just before their lips could touch, a voice broke through the stillness. “Azriel.”

Y/N’s heart started beating again as Azriel pulled back, turning toward the interruption. Rhys stood in the doorway, his voice firm, his expression urgent. “We need you. Now.”

The moment was shattered. Azriel stepped back from Elain, his gaze flickering to Y/N for a brief second, as if he could see her —just enough for her to see the flash of uncertainty in his eyes. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. He smiled at Elain, and Y/N watched as he walked away without a word, his attention turning back to Rhys.

Elain’s smile was still there, softer now, but there was a question in her eyes as she watched Azriel leave. Y/N could see it—the small crack in the perfect picture they had built. But it didn’t matter. Because when Azriel looked back at her, it was as if he had never seen her at all.

And with that, Y/N slipped back into the shadows, her heart heavier than it had ever been. She had hoped, for just a moment, that things could be different—that maybe, just maybe, Azriel would have kissed her that night. But the world was never that kind.

The moment Azriel left with Rhys, a heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the House of Wind. Y/N had learned, over the years, to trust her instincts, especially where Azriel was concerned. When Rhys had summoned him, his voice sharp and urgent, her stomach twisted in response. They had been discussing something—something dangerous. Koschei had made a move, and Y/N’s heart had dropped when she heard that name. The Death God.

The city of Velaris was far behind them when Azriel ventured out of the court’s protected borders, heading toward the desolate lake where Koschei was rumored to be hiding. Y/N knew this place—Kochei’s lake was an eerie, forgotten expanse of black waters, known only for its unnerving stillness. The entire area gave off an aura of decay, both from the land and the whispers of ancient power that lingered there. It was as if the very earth around the lake had been poisoned, steeped in magic of the darkest kind.

The air was thick with the oppressive weight of Koschei’s magic as Azriel stood before the lake, his eyes scanning the dark waters, his wings poised in readiness. Y/N crouched low, her shadows swirling around her, blending into the darkness as she watched him, ready to intervene if she had to.

Koschei’s presence lingered just beyond the periphery, an unseen but unmistakable force. The Death God had been waiting for the right moment, and now, Azriel had walked right into his trap.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, sensing something amiss, but before he could make a move, the shadows around him thickened, clamping down on his limbs, immobilizing him with an invisible grip. His body stiffened, his wings twitching in resistance, but the hold was too strong.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she watched, knowing that she couldn’t allow him to fall under Koschei’s control. She couldn’t let him be taken—history would not repeat itself.

But Koschei wasn’t after Azriel.

Not yet.

With a malevolent grin, Koschei stepped from the shadows, his cold eyes gleaming as he saw Y/N standing, powerless to act as Azriel struggled against the restraints. The Death God’s form materialized fully before her, his presence like a weight on her chest.

“Ah, Y/N,” Koschei’s voice was low, teasing. “I see you’ve brought your shadows with you. They’ve always been loyal to you, haven’t they?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She stood her ground, though her heart raced in her chest. “I won’t let you have him,” she said, her voice hoarse but firm. “You won’t touch him.”

Koschei tilted his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. “You think you can stop me? I’ve waited for so long to take what’s mine.”

Before she could react, Koschei’s magic reached out, grabbing her by the throat and dragging her forward. She struggled, but his grip was unyielding, his fingers like ice against her skin.

Azriel’s voice, strained and desperate, reached her ears as he tried to free himself, but the shadows around him only tightened.

“Y/N!” Azriel’s voice was thick with fear, his shadows flickering in agitation as he fought against the restraints. “Get out of here! Please!”

But Y/N didn’t move. She couldn’t leave him—not when he needed her. Not when she was his only hope.

Koschei chuckled darkly, his hands tightening around Y/N’s throat. “You’re quite the puzzle, aren’t you? Always playing the hero, always throwing yourself into danger for others.”

Y/N gasped for air, but her eyes never left Azriel. “You can’t have him,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice full of defiance. “I won’t allow it.”

Koschei’s smile was cruel, his grip on her throat tightening further as he moved closer. “Finally, someone you’ll fight for,” he purred, his voice dripping with malice. “How touching.”

But Y/N didn’t falter. She could feel her shadows, the last of her magic, slipping away. She had to make her move now.

With every ounce of strength she had left, she reached out, sending the last of her shadows toward Azriel, her magic flooding into him. She could feel his strength return as the shadows wrapped around him, empowering him, protecting him.

“No,” Koschei hissed, his face twisted in anger. “You can’t do this!”

But Y/N didn’t care. She had made her choice. Azriel’s safety was her only priority now.

As the last of her power left her, she whispered, almost to herself, “You can’t have him. I won’t allow it.”

The words hung in the air, thick with finality, as her vision blurred. The shadows around her began to fade, dissipating into nothingness. Her body felt weak, her breath shallow. She had given everything.

Koschei let out a furious roar as he tried to push against her will, but it was too late. Azriel’s shadows surged around him, breaking his restraints, and with a powerful snap, the Death God was forced back.

Azriel had broken free.

Her body crumpled to the ground, the shadows that had once sustained her now gone, leaving her fragile and empty. She could feel her strength slipping away, her body fading into the cold grasp of death. But she had done it. She had protected him.

Azriel’s voice reached her again, frantic and full of desperation. “Y/N! No!”

Azriel’s blood boiled. His shadows had surged, fought back, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough. Y/N was crumpled at Koschei’s feet, her body barely breathing, her shadows gone, dissipated into the nothingness that Koschei had left in his wake.

His fists clenched, fury burning through him in a white-hot blaze. No.

Not her. He couldn’t lose her.

Koschei’s laughter echoed in his ears, and he could feel the Death God’s presence press against him, his dark power threatening to swallow him whole. “You think you can stop me?” Koschei taunted, his voice filled with venom. “You’ve already lost.”

Azriel’s wings snapped forward, his talons cutting through the air. The shadows around him gathered in a vortex of rage as he fought back with everything he had. Koschei tried to push against him, his power a suffocating weight, but Azriel’s determination surged higher. He wasn’t going to lose her. Not after everything. Not when he’d come this far.

With a brutal, final strike, Azriel’s shadows wrapped around Koschei, pulling the Death God away, slamming him into the earth. The battle was violent, brutal, the world around them bending and breaking under the weight of their fury. Azriel’s injuries didn’t matter. His exhaustion didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her.

Azriel drove his shadow blades into the ground, pinning Koschei in place, and for a moment, everything was still.

But that stillness shattered when his eyes fell on Y/N.

Her form was so fragile now, the light of her presence dimming with every breath she took. The once-vibrant shadows that had defined her, that had been a part of her essence, were now nothing more than an echo.

No.

With a final, guttural roar, Azriel turned his focus to Koschei, slamming his power down upon the Death God. Koschei screamed, vanishing in a wisp of smoke, but the damage had been done. Azriel had won, but it felt hollow. It didn’t matter. He could feel her slipping away.

As he staggered toward her, blood dripping from his wounds, his heart clenched at the sight of Y/N’s frantic, desperate eyes meeting his.

“Y/N,” he breathed, crawling to her, reaching out to touch her, to anchor himself to her, even as his body screamed in protest.

Her breath was shallow, her eyes wide with fear, but there was no power left in her. The shadows had abandoned her. She had given everything.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. She was fading. The life that had once burned so brightly in her was now flickering out, and Azriel’s heart shattered with every passing second.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” Azriel whispered, his voice cracking. The panic rose in his chest like a choking wave, suffocating him.

He reached for her, cradling her in his arms, pressing his face to her forehead. “Please, don’t die. I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

Her eyes met his, but there was no recognition, no spark of the strength she had once had. Just… emptiness.

He leaned down, his voice breaking as he whispered to the shadows in desperation.

“Go back to her. Please… I need you. Keep her alive.”

He felt them—his shadows, the ones he controlled, the ones that were so much a part of him. But they didn’t move. They lingered, cold and unyielding.

But then, as if the very act of begging for her, for the one person who had been there for him in the darkest of moments, had unlocked something within the shadows, one tiny speck of darkness flickered into existence. It crawled toward her wrist, wrapping around it like a thread of hope.

Azriel watched in a stunned silence as the small shadow pulsed, then expanded, feeding life back into her, bringing her warmth, her pulse, her breath back.

Her eyes fluttered, and then—there—a faint spark, a flicker of recognition. Her hand moved ever so slightly.

Azriel’s breath caught in his chest as he pulled her closer, his face hovering inches from hers, his lips trembling. She was alive.

Her eyes opened fully, still filled with that same raw vulnerability, the same trust that had always been there. But now, the fear had gone. She wasn’t fading anymore.

“Y/N,” Azriel whispered, his voice rough with emotion. He pulled her into his chest, pressing his forehead against hers. “Never do that again,” he muttered, his voice a mix of relief and raw anger. “Do you hear me? Never.”

Y/N’s breathing was steady now, and though she was still weak, the shadows had returned to her—if only just enough to give her life again. And Azriel could feel the change in her, in him, as the bond they shared snapped into place.

A rush of warmth flooded through him, a sharp, undeniable connection that had always been there but now was more real than ever. His heart slammed against his ribs as he realized the truth.

She was his. And now, in the aftermath of everything, the mating bond had been forged between them.

Azriel held her tighter, his grip desperate, as if he were afraid she might slip away again. But she wouldn’t.

Not now. Not ever.

Azriel’s wings beat steadily as he flew through the cool night sky, cradling Y/N in his arms. Her breath was steady now, her body still fragile but alive. Alive because of him. Alive because of the bond they had finally accepted, because of the shadows she had given him, because of the sacrifices she had made for him time and time again.

He landed softly in front of the River House, the place that had always been home. Elain was there, as if she had been waiting, her concern etched on her face when she saw Y/N in his arms.

“Azriel—what happened? Is she—” Elain started, her voice filled with worry.

Azriel shook his head, a soft growl of frustration building in his chest. “She’ll be fine. But there’s something I need to tell you.” He stepped past her, carrying Y/N toward the bedroom where he had left her resting, the weight of the conversation he needed to have with Elain sitting heavily on his shoulders.

He laid Y/N gently on the bed and tucked the blankets around her, making sure she was comfortable. She stirred slightly at the touch, but her eyes stayed closed, her body still recovering from the ordeal.

Elain stood in the doorway, watching him with a mixture of concern and confusion. Azriel turned to her, his heart aching, knowing this was the moment he needed to speak the truth.

“Azriel… what happened?” Elain’s voice was soft but insistent.

He sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment before raising his eyes to meet hers. “Elain, there’s something I need to say.” He took a breath. “You’re kind, and you’ve been wonderful to me. But…” He hesitated, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “But I don’t feel the way I thought I did for you. You’ve been a friend to me, Elain. But there’s someone else.”

Her face softened, understanding dawning. But still, there was a sadness in her eyes, a quiet resignation that Azriel couldn’t ignore.

“I… I see,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She took a step back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I always knew it wasn’t the same. But I’m glad you were honest with me, Azriel.”

Azriel stepped forward, his hand brushing hers in a gentle, reassuring gesture. “You’ll always be my friend, Elain. And I’ll always care about you. But… I’ve found something, someone else.” His voice hardened with emotion, a touch of bitterness slipping through. “And I owe her everything.”

Elain nodded, her lips trembling. “I understand. I just… want you to be happy, Azriel. I hope she makes you happy.”

Azriel gave her a final, grateful nod before he turned, his heart still heavy with the weight of what he’d just confessed. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. But Y/N had always been his destiny—his heart, his shadows, his everything.

Azriel walked into the living room where Rhys, Cassian, and Feyre were gathered. He had just returned with Y/N, and his heart was still pounding from the emotions of everything that had just transpired. The weight of his words felt heavy, but it was time. Time to share everything with his family.

“There’s someone you need to meet,” Azriel said quietly, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and reverence.

Rhys looked up from the chair he was seated in, his brows furrowing in curiosity. “What’s going on, Az?” He stood, sensing the shift in his brother. The tension in Azriel’s posture was palpable.

Azriel nodded toward the bedroom door. “Come with me. I’ll explain everything.”

Without waiting for another word, Azriel led them down the hallway, his mind racing as he walked toward the room where Y/N had been resting. He paused before the door, taking a breath. This was it. The moment he had been dreading and longing for—revealing the truth about the woman who had always been by his side.

He opened the door gently and stepped inside, motioning for the others to follow. Y/N was lying on the bed, her body still fragile from the toll of the battle, but her breathing steady. She looked peaceful now, her form bathed in the soft light of the room.

Azriel turned to face Rhys, Cassian, and Feyre. “This is Y/N,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “She’s… she’s the one who has been with me all along. The one who gave me everything—her shadows, her life—without question.”

Feyre stepped forward first, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at the woman resting on the bed. “What do you mean? What’s happened?”

Azriel’s chest tightened as he continued. “Y/N saved me. She saved me when I didn’t know how to save myself.” He swallowed hard. “I was a broken, lost soul when I first met her. I was drowning in the darkness, consumed by it. And she… she gave me her shadows. At first, I didn’t understand what it meant. But now, I see it. All of it. The sacrifices she’s made for me. The love she’s given, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Cassian stepped forward, looking down at Y/N with a mixture of awe and respect. “What do you mean, she gave you her shadows? How? Why?”

Azriel’s eyes never left Y/N as he spoke. “She didn’t just give me her shadows. She became them. When she was dying, when she lost her first love, Koschei offered her a way out. A way to survive. She made a deal with him, traded her life for the power of shadows. And in return, she gave me those shadows, kept me alive when I was losing myself to the darkness.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I had no idea how much she was sacrificing for me.”

Feyre looked at Azriel, her expression filled with both admiration and sadness. “She gave you her life. She gave you the very thing that kept her alive.”

Azriel nodded. “She did. But it didn’t end there. After the first war, when I was still struggling with the weight of it all, she was there. She was always there. And when I needed her most—when I was losing myself to Koschei, to the darkness that had been trying to consume me for so long—she gave everything again. She gave me the last of her shadows.”

Cassian’s eyes widened as the weight of Azriel’s words sank in. “And now… now she’s like this?” He asked, gesturing to Y/N, still unconscious and fragile on the bed.

Azriel’s voice softened, a thread of emotion weaving through it. “Yes. She gave it all. The last of her shadows. She’s barely hanging on.”

Rhys stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Azriel’s face. “But she’s alive, Azriel. She’s here. And we’ll make sure she stays that way. She’s part of this family now, just like you.”

Azriel nodded, the emotions too much to contain. He approached the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s face. “I won’t let her fade. Not after everything she’s done for me.”

Cassian stepped forward then, his voice thick with gratitude and something deeper—something unspoken. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything you’ve done—for Azriel, for all of us.”

Azriel’s heart clenched as he saw Cassian gently place a hand on Y/N’s wrist, the gesture full of reverence. It was clear that Y/N had already touched all of their hearts, even though she had never asked for anything in return.

Feyre, too, stepped forward, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked down at the woman who had given so much for her family. “I can’t even imagine the pain you must have gone through,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for saving him.”

Azriel turned to face his family. “She did what none of us could. She saved me. And I owe her everything.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of Azriel’s words hanging in the air. Y/N was still asleep, but the shadows around her—slowly beginning to return—told the story of her sacrifice. And Azriel knew that he would never take that for granted again.

Finally, as the silence stretched on, Azriel leaned down to kiss Y/N’s forehead, his hand resting on her chest as if to keep her tethered to this world. He could feel the bond between them now, stronger than it had ever been, and he knew it wasn’t just the shadows that connected them. It was something deeper.

“Never again will you fight alone,” Azriel whispered softly, his voice barely audible. “You’ve given me everything. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it.”

The warmth of sunlight filtered through the curtains, the soft scent of roses mingling with the earthy scent of the river outside. Y/N stirred, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly emerged from the fog of sleep. The weight on her chest, her heart, was lighter than before, though still heavy with everything that had happened.

She glanced down to find Azriel sitting next to her, his large form leaning back in the chair beside her bed, his gaze focused intently on her. His shadows whispered quietly, as if sensing her waking. His focus, however, was entirely on her.

“I needed to hear it,” Azriel murmured softly, his voice a quiet rasp, barely above a whisper. His hand rested lightly over her chest, just above her heart. His eyes searched her face, searching for any sign of distress. “Your heartbeat. It was the same as mine.”

Y/N blinked, her senses returning as her mind processed the words. She nodded slowly, trying to sit up but feeling the weight of exhaustion still hanging over her.

“Good to see you’re awake,” Azriel added with a small smile. “You’ve been out for three days.”

Before Y/N could respond, a loud knock at the door interrupted them, followed by the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s booming voice from the hallway. “Az, don’t think I haven’t been here for the last few days. We’re all concerned, and if you don’t let me in, I’ll come in myself.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound faint but genuine. “He’s quite persistent, isn’t he?”

Azriel grinned, his shadows flickering with amusement. “He’s worse when he’s worried.”

With a flick of his hand, the door creaked open, revealing Cassian standing in the doorway, a huge grin plastered on his face as usual. “You look better, at least,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Not that you could get any worse.” His tone was playful, but there was an underlying concern in his eyes as he entered the room.

Azriel laughed quietly. “You’ve been camped outside my door this entire time, haven’t you?”

Cassian shrugged, unbothered. “Someone had to keep an eye on you both.” He glanced at Y/N, then turned and left the room, only to return minutes later with a tray laden with food—and a large slice of cake. “I figured you might need a treat. You’ve been through enough, so cake it is,” he said, setting it on the bedside table.

Y/N chuckled softly, the smell of cake tempting her despite how tired she still felt. “You really do come bearing gifts, don’t you?”

Cassian winked at her. “I’m a man of many talents. And cake is my specialty.”

Before Y/N could respond, Rhys and Feyre appeared in the doorway, both looking at her with warm smiles, though Feyre’s eyes were filled with quiet curiosity and concern. Rhys took a few steps forward, his presence calm and steady.

“You’re awake,” he said gently, his tone full of warmth. “Good. We’ve all been worried.”

Y/N smiled weakly. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Feyre, who had been standing slightly behind Rhys, moved to the bedside, her eyes softening as she studied Y/N. “Azriel told us about everything. You’ve done so much for him.”

Y/N met her gaze, the weight of the unspoken history between them lingering in the air. “He’s my responsibility. Always has been.”

Cassian leaned against the doorframe with a grin. “You’ll learn quickly, like Feyre did. Once you’re part of Az’s world, you’re part of all of ours.”

Y/N nodded, her voice steady. “I’ve been with Rhys and Cassian for a long time. I’ve followed Cassian into battle more times than I can count. It’s where my scars came from—fighting beside him, making sure he made it out alive.”

There was a long pause as Rhys took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed her words. “You’ve been with us… longer than we realized, then?” he asked quietly.

Y/N’s gaze softened, a faint sadness in her eyes. “I went after you, Rhys. When you were captured during the first war… I helped you. I helped free you. I did what I could.”

Rhys stared at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softened. “I never knew. I never realized…”

Y/N’s gaze dropped, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry for what you went through under the mountain, Rhys. I tried to help you… as much as I could. I know it wasn’t enough, but I tried.”

Feyre’s eyes widened, and she glanced between Y/N and Rhys. “You helped him?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How? I never knew.”

Y/N glanced back at Rhys. “You were important to Azriel. I couldn’t let you break.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Feyre, still standing near Rhys, gasped softly. “The music you sent me… it was you, wasn’t it? The same music that you sent Rhys?”

Y/N nodded quietly. “I couldn’t let Rhys break. He needed to stay strong. He couldn’t fall. Azriel needed him.”

Rhys, his gaze unreadable, looked at Y/N with newfound understanding. “You sent that music? All this time?”

Y/N simply nodded again. “I couldn’t let you lose yourself.”

There was a long, heavy silence, and Azriel could feel the weight of it as he watched Y/N open up in ways he hadn’t expected. He could sense the depth of her sacrifice, of everything she had done for him and for his family without ever expecting recognition or thanks.

Cassian’s deep voice broke the silence. “You’ve been doing all this for him… and for us?” His tone was thick with emotion now, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re a hell of a lot stronger than any of us gave you credit for.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “I did what I had to do.”

Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with the quiet pride he felt for her. She had given so much of herself, had fought so hard to protect them all, and yet, she never asked for anything in return. It had always been about him—about Azriel.

Feyre stepped forward, her hands shaking slightly, and before anyone could stop her, she wrapped Y/N in a tight hug. “Thank you,” Feyre whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve done more than we’ll ever know. Thank you for being there—for him. For all of us.”

Y/N stiffened at first, clearly not used to such displays of affection, but after a moment, she relaxed into the embrace. “I never expected thanks,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion as well. “But… you’re welcome.”

Azriel stood by, silent, watching the family he had once only dreamed of accepting her as one of their own. She had always been by his side, fighting, protecting. Now, she was truly part of his world, part of their world.

As Cassian, Rhys, and Feyre stood together in the room, Y/N smiled faintly, her heart full. She was finally seen. Finally home.

Cassian, Rhys, and Feyre, having shared their heartfelt thanks and goodbyes, stood in the doorway for a moment longer, watching the connection between Y/N and Azriel before they left.

“Get some rest, you two,” Rhys said gently, his eyes full of understanding. “We’ll see you both later. And if you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to ask.”

Cassian gave a wide grin, his voice light as usual, though the affection in his tone was unmistakable. “Take care of each other,” he said, with a wink at Y/N. “We’ll save the cake for when you’re feeling better.”

Feyre’s gaze softened. “We’re here for you, Y/N,” she added quietly. “You’ve been through so much. Take the time you need to heal.”

With that, the three of them departed, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet of the room. Y/N’s gaze followed them for a moment before her tired eyes turned back to Azriel, who was still sitting beside her. He hadn’t said much since they’d all left, his presence quietly constant as always, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before—something she hadn’t allowed herself to see in the years they had known each other.

As the door clicked shut behind them, she gave him a small, but honest smile. “I’m glad they came by,” she said softly. “It’s strange, having people around again.”

Azriel’s smile was small but warm, his voice full of affection when he spoke. “They care about you. They’re grateful for everything you’ve done for us all.”

Y/N nodded, but there was a quiet sadness in her eyes. “I’ve never asked for anything from them… but they’ve all given me so much already. I don’t know if I deserve it.”

Azriel’s hand reached out to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as he spoke softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You do deserve it. More than you know.”

There was a long, quiet pause as they shared a gaze, the weight of everything that had happened, all the shared moments, the sacrifices, and the unspoken love, pressing in on them. It was as though they had finally, after all these years, found a breath to share between them—a breath that was both long overdue and infinitely worth the wait.

Y/N swallowed, her heart racing in her chest as she looked at him, truly looked at him. “Azriel,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”

His gaze softened, his expression tender as he nodded. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised quietly.

Without another word, Azriel slipped into the bed beside her, carefully maneuvering his body so that they were close but still mindful of her fragility. She shifted slightly, her hand reaching for his, intertwining their fingers. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at him.

Azriel gazed back down at her, his lips parting as he leaned closer, their faces inches apart. He searched her eyes, as if asking for permission, as if he needed her to know how much she meant to him before he closed the space between them.

Y/N’s breath caught as she looked up at him, her chest tightening with emotion. She could feel the bond between them, the connection they had shared for so long, but now it was something more. Something she had longed for but never allowed herself to fully feel.

With a soft exhale, Azriel finally closed the distance, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was soft, gentle, but full of everything they had never said. It was a kiss of unspoken words, of everything they had endured, of everything they had fought for. It was a kiss that told the story of their connection, of love and loyalty, of battles fought both internal and external. And most of all, it was a kiss that told the story of their future—a future that they would face together.

When they pulled away, both of them breathless, Y/N’s eyes were wide, her heart racing as she looked at him. “I love you, Azriel,” she whispered, the words finally escaping her lips as her heart overflowed.

Azriel’s voice was low and gravelly, full of emotion as he answered, his hand brushing the hair from her face. “I love you too, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of everything that had come before seemed to fall away, leaving only the quiet comfort of the present. In that moment, there was no past, no war, no shadows. There was only the two of them, together, finally allowing themselves the peace they both so desperately needed.

And as they fell asleep, tangled in one another, the world outside could wait. For once, everything was as it should be.

[thebookishgaymer]

Fuck it. The ship war has gone too far.

Azcien and Gwylain are now the end game ships. There will be no more discussion.

[kathren1sky-blog]

I am already in love with this one..

Blessed mistakes | part 2 (reworked)

part 1 there aren't much changes just a few subtle ones

Azriel x reader

A/N- Literally thank you so much to my wifey @anarchiii for being there for me and proof reading this story when it was just a stupid little drabble, if you all want some soft but well written fics she has some amazing ones especially her gwynriel fic,(ps: shes already taken and so are her cats too so dont even try anything else >:<) also i might be going off summary a bit but its fine,let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

Summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

Part Two: Fading Echoes

(*A few years after y/n had left, timeline during Amaranthas reign*)

The years had a quiet way of passing, like a river flowing slowly under the weight of the stars. Azriel couldn’t remember the moment when the ache of her absence had begun, nor could he pinpoint when it had deepened into something permanent, something that hummed just beneath his skin. Fifty years. They had come and gone, one after the other, a steady stream of days filled with work, with battles, with the constant motion of life that had never quite let him stop. And yet, the absence of her—her—never left. It lingered, as if it had always been there.

Y/N had left without a word, without a trace, slipping quietly from his life as though she had never belonged there. He had never asked her why. Maybe he thought the answer was too simple, or perhaps he didn’t want to hear it. And so, he had never asked.

He thought of her that night—the night she told him she was leaving—as he often did, though the memory felt like a soft echo, fading at the edges. It had been a simple conversation, nothing remarkable at first. They had been in the garden, the air cool and still around them, the moon casting its pale light over the courtyard. Azriel had been lost in his thoughts, as he so often was, his mind drifting from one responsibility to the next.

She had been quiet, more than usual, and when he had finally turned to her, he saw it in her eyes—the tiredness, the distant look that hadn’t been there before. It was the look of someone who had been carrying something heavy for too long.

“I think I need to go,” she had said, her voice soft, almost like a whisper. “There’s a mission in the Autumn Court... It’s time for me to leave for a while.”

He had nodded, of course. She had always been so independent, so steady. He didn’t think much of it, didn’t realize the weight of her words, the finality in them.

"Of course," he had said, offering a smile, thinking it was just another one of her short trips—another mission, another step away from Velaris that would bring her back once more.

But she hadn’t come back.

The days stretched on without her, and slowly, the absence began to settle over him like a thick fog. He kept himself busy, as he always did, throwing himself into his duties, his work, anything to keep his mind from wandering to her. But she was never far. She lingered in the corners of his thoughts, in the spaces between meetings, in the quiet moments before sleep would claim him.

And then there was the silence. The silence of not knowing. Not knowing where she had gone, why she had left so suddenly, why she hadn’t come back. At first, Azriel had told himself it was nothing—just a mission, just time apart. But as the weeks turned into months, and the months into years, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of her absence pressing on him.

He had searched, of course. He had gone to the Autumn Court, asking quietly, desperately, if anyone had seen her. He had questioned every contact he had, asked around the realms, sent word through every possible channel. But no one had known. No one had seen her.

She had simply... disappeared.

It wasn’t until years later, when the weight of her absence had begun to feel like a constant ache in his chest, that Azriel had realized the truth. The truth that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface of everything he had felt for her. She hadn’t just left because of a mission. No. She had left because of him.

He hadn’t seen it then. He hadn’t understood. But looking back now, with the distance of time and the space of so many years between them, the truth became clear. Y/N had loved him. Loved him in a way that he had never allowed himself to see. She had loved him in the quiet moments, in the way she had looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. But Azriel hadn’t noticed. He had been too wrapped up in his own world, in his own pain, his own battles, to ever see it.

To him, she had always been like a sister—steadfast, loyal, someone who understood him without needing words. She had always been there, always by his side, always offering him the quiet comfort he hadn’t known he needed. But to her, it had been more. It had always been more. And she had waited, hoped, for something that he had never been able to give.

And when she left, when she quietly walked away from him without so much as a second glance, it had been the final piece in a puzzle he hadn’t even known he was putting together.

He hadn’t loved her in the way she had wanted him to, in the way she deserved, he had realized the reason she left long after it was too late. But even now, fifty years later, the ache of that unspoken truth gnawed at him. The truth that he had broken her without ever knowing it. Without ever meaning to.

In the years that followed, Azriel had buried it. Buried the regret, the guilt, the unanswered questions deep within himself, like a wound he was too afraid to touch. He had never spoken of it to anyone—not even Rhys. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them that he had failed her in a way that he would never be able to undo.

And so, he carried it. The quiet weight of knowing that someone—someone who had been everything to him—was gone, and he didn’t even know why.

It wasn’t until after the war, after Amarantha’s reign had ended, that Rhys returned. The air was filled with victory, with the promise of a future that seemed almost too good to be true. But to Azriel, it felt hollow. Empty. Because in the midst of all of it, there was still the question of Y/N.

Rhys had come to him, as they always did, to speak of what had been won, what had been lost. But there was something else in the air that night, something unspoken between them. Rhys, as always, seemed to sense it.

“Az,” he began, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, as though he had been waiting for the right moment. “I know you’ve been looking for her. I’ve heard the whispers. The Autumn Court... You thought she might have gone there?”

Azriel’s heart skipped in his chest, the hope that he had long buried resurfacing just for a moment. He had never told Rhys the full truth—the way he had searched for her, the way he had never given up. But Rhys knew. Rhys had always known, his brother always did.

“I did,” Azriel said, his voice thick with something he couldn’t name he couldn't help as his voice broke. “But I couldn’t find her. No one has seen her.”

Rhys’ expression softened, as if he had known all along that this moment was coming. “I searched, Az. I went to the Autumn Court. I asked around... but there’s nothing. She’s gone.”

Azriel’s breath hitched. He knew it, he did. But hearing the words—hearing it from someone else—made it feel final in a way that it hadn’t before.

She was gone.

All because of him.

He had failed her.

And as the truth settled over him, as the weight of the years pressed in, he realized something else—that even after all this time, even after all the battles he had fought, the scars he had earned, there was a part of him that still, somehow, hoped she might return. That hope had been foolish. She wasn’t coming back.

Azriel stood there, the weight of Rhys’ words hanging between them, and for the first time in decades, his thoughts weren’t on his duties or his responsibilities. They were on her. Y/N, the girl he had known since childhood, the girl who had always been like a sister to him. His heart, ever steady in the face of battles and wars, felt something more raw now. More broken. She had been the one person who had always understood him. And now... now she was gone.

She wasn’t just a sister, a friend. She had been the one constant in his life, the one person who had given him something real, something solid. And now, he would never get the chance to tell her how much she meant to him. He would never get the chance to apologize for not seeing her.

His chest tightened with the weight of it all. The girl he had grown up with, the girl who had quietly woven herself into the fabric of his life, was gone and Azriel, the Shadowsinger, could do nothing but stand there in the empty quiet of the night, broken by the truth that she was lost to him forever. And so he sunk to his knees and let himself shatter, under the weight of his heart.

@anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3

[harperbrynne]

One thing about Rhysand is he will slide those hands into his pockets

[marvvdraws]

Cousins 🤍 — Rhysand’s sister and Mor gossiping on a late night

[ashleyinwondrland]

“Feyre has not right to be high lady! She didn’t know how to ready until recently! She doesn’t have the qualifications blahblahblah”

First, Feyre has the same right as any High Lord, she has the power of a High Lord.

Second, you are a classist asshole. Feyre not being able to read was because no one bothered or cared enough to teach her. And Feyre didn’t think anyone cared enough to be willing to teach her, a fact Nesta didn’t refute. Would you shame someone for not having the opportunity to learn in real life?

Third, Feyre has the qualifications to become the High Queen of Prythia. If she wanted. She had power from each court.

So step off of my High Lady.

[azziesbattybaddie]

Shadows and Snow Angels

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Chapter 2 - My scars won't heal

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.5k

💔 💘

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA, we die like men. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Author's note: ok, so I kinda his a manic a episode and now I'm writing the second chapter literally the minute I posted the first. We'll see how long it will take me to finish this one but if y'all are lucky, maybe we'll get 2 chapters in one day!

Author's note 2: lucky streak gone but at least it'll be on time. I'm gonna try to post a new chapter every Friday, but we'll see how it goes, life's kinda crazy rn.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of child abuse, Azzie is a traumatized baby, this chapter is actually more fluff than angst but still, we die like men.

Rhys opened the door, only in his pajamas with his hair sticking up in random places. It must have been a long night. Nyx just turned two a couple months ago and he was having a horrible time sleeping through the night. Rhys and Feyre took shift but everyone knew that Rhys was the one that usually stayed up with him.

"hey I'm sorry, I know it's late, or well early, but we officially have an emergency." You said while Rhys just glanced between the two of you, it took him a good second to realize that there was suddenly an extra little one with you both. Azriels shadows darted past Rhys's feet to go check if the house was safe.

"yeah come on in, I'll go get Feyre." Rhys stepped aside and let you both in before jogging tiredly up the stairs to get his mate. You quietly sat down on the couch to re adjust the little hat Elain made for Astrid, fixing it to sit on her delicate head better. You chuckled as Rhys's appearance. Who knew that out of get trapped in hell for 50 years, enduring another war and having a baby, it was the baby that finally got him. "Poor high lord."

Azriel was still standing but he seemed to be enjoying bouncing Rhain in his arms, rocking him side to side as his shadows created a Shadowy mobile above them. He chuckled softly at your comment, glance in his brothers direction before looking back to the little boy in his arms. They were practically making heart eyes at eachother, if it wasn't so late at night you might have asked Feyre to paint it.

The way Azriel interacted with children was honestly what drew him to you in the first place and the ease in the way he can calm them makes your heart melt every time. Your mate was always so still and calm so seeing him bouncing and sway your daughter and the same way he does with Rhain now, made your heart soar higher than the stars above.

You were still smiling at your mate when you heard rushed footsteps flying down the stairs. You didn't have to look up to know that Feyre was running to come see the little one. The Shadows flared defensively but calmed at the sight of their high lady.

"OK, WHERE TH-" you shushed her quickly before she woke up all three kids in the house. She was still in her night gown and her hair was tied back messily. "Sorry, where the hell did this little cutie come from!..."

You chuckled as Feyre took Rhain from your mate. He looked skeptical and basically hovered over his sister in-law as she cuddled the baby. The Shadows however, seemed content to huddle around you and Astrid on the couch, completely ignoring their masters anxious behavior.

"Az, would you calm down, she's not gonna drop him." You say barely containing your laughter. He was actually just as overprotective as the day you brought your daughter home. It was adorable.

"Oh my gods! What's his name?!" Feyre squealed quietly and came to settle on the couch next to you. Rhain was babbling softly and grabbed Feyre's finger in his small hand.

"Rhain. His name is Rhain." Azriel said, still standing next to feyre, he's hands twitching at his side, wanting to take Rhain back from her. You shook your head at his antics, he's had this baby in his care for like 2 hours and he's already acting like Mother hen.

"I'm sorry, I know it late and I know that Nyx id having issues sleeping but we don't have anything that will fit him and I decided that this officially classified as an emergency."

"No, don't worry about it at all! Not at all, no! Not at all!" She said less to you as she cooed down at your little boy before actually lifter her gaze to you and responding. "Yeah, absolutely this is an emergency. Come on I'm sure I could spare some jumpers for him, Cauldron knows that Rhys is gonna buy him more anyway."

Feyre stood and tried to walk away with the Rhian still wrapped I her arms but a wall of shadows came to block her from walking away just long enough for Azriel to take him back. Feyre just rolled her eyes and lead you upstairs, muttering jokingly to herself about Azriel being overprotective.

2 hours later you all were back at your own home, azriel settling the baby's down for bed. You had added a temporary separator in the crib just for tonight, you'll have to make a trip to the Palace quarters tomorrow for another one. Your mate had just finished building your daughter's nursery and now you're either gonna have to rearrange everything or finds another room in your home for a second nursery... Wonderful...

Once they were both swaddled, wings and all, they were out like a light before he could flip the switch. You were sitting in bed trying to read and relax but you mind was reeling from the days events. Your mind wandered to Rhain. He was so small, he still had that fresh baby smell. You had tried to explain the smell to Mor one time but she thought you were crazy, must be a mom thing. He was underweight and dehydrated from what you could tell, the poor thing could barely suckle the bottle you had fed him earlier. You were lost in thought, book discarded laying open in your lap, as Azriel came into the room, his footsteps as silently as ever.

"So how much trouble am I in?" Your head snapped up at his voice. 4 years... 4 years you had been together and he still manages to sneak up on you, you'd think you would be better at spotted him now but no. You looked up at him, you eyes locked on him as you pulled yourself from the whirlwind of questions and worries you had gotten lost in. He was leaning forward against the bed frame at the foot of the bed. His Shadows fluttered and flitted out into the room randomly as per usual when it was time for bed. It was interesting, most people thought Azriels Shadows were just extensions of him but in reality, most of them had personalities and curiosity, it was kinda cute to watch them.

"come here..." You opened your arms for him and waited as he quickly shrugged off his leathers and siphons, a few of the Shadows helping him by catching his siphons and placing them on the dresser silently. He sank onto he stomach and into your arms with a sigh. He nuzzled his face into your chest as his wings relaxed and sprawled across the massive bed.

"I'm not upset with you. I mean I would have loved a heads up that we were gonna adopt an infant today but I know that the circumstances were anything but ideal. Trust me I would have been PISSED if I found out you didn't bring him home. You are the most compassionate and empathetic person I've ever known. Thats one of the reasons I love you so much." You smile as you feel every muscle in his body melt under your hands, your fingers working out the knots from his back. He let out a breathy moan when you gently pressed your fingers into the onyx skin at the base of his wings.

"he needed me, and you. Besides your a good mama, if anyone could give him the love he needs it's you..." He lifted himself slightly to settle on top of you better, he's arms wrapping around your waist and his thighs spreading yours a bit more. You took a second to bask in the moment, your fingers tangling and brushing through his hair, a couple of shadows coming to rest on the pillow next to you. You thanked the mother for moments like this. For the times when you both could just hold each other and feel just as loved and seen as if you had spent the night making the house shake.

"Thank you... for understanding, for not being upset. You have every right to be..." azriel mumbled, his voice laced with emotion. He was right, you did have a right to be mad but you weren't. How could you ever be upset with him for being the most loving male in Prythian?! You hugged him tighter and kissed his forehead.

"Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever your thinking about?" You smoothed a hand over his back to try and comfort him. Even though you had been mated for a few years there were still secrets and things he refused to tell you, especially about his excuse of a childhood. You knew the basics, a general idea of how he was treated but he never went into details. You liked to think he wouldn't tell you because he knew you would find his half brothers and rip them to shreds, although You knew in reality it was most likely just to painful to actively try to remember.

"yeah I do, but not tonight. I... we can talk about it tomorrow, I don't want to ruin the night..." He said choosing his words carfully. Azriel easily sat up and flipped you both so you to rest against his side and pulled the covers over you both, the Shadows that had been occupying the pillow previously jumped away I'm a misty puff. You didn't press. You knew he would tell you when he was ready to open up. It made sense, that he past would rear it's ugly head after he brought Rhain home. You left a small kiss on his chest before snuggling into him and letting yourself drift off into your thoughts, the shadows descending over you both is calm wave urging you both into sleep.

Thank you so much for reading and as always I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! If you wanna be added to the tag list please comments or DM me to be added!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @tele86 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67 @celestialamore @rcarbo1

[ratgirl2020]

I have a dumb question.

A lot of e/riels use this as proof of their ship: 3 brothers and 3 sisters painted by Mor.

After rereading, does it resemble Mors hair or Feyres?

If Feyres hair, wouldn't she have written "flowing hair that resembled mine" or "my own" since it's in first person pov?

[terastrialbean]

Here's some High Lords with baggage. I've been thinking about the acotar series a LOT and I don't know why there's barely any art of these boys with facial hair. I gotta be the change I wanna see.

[noradaydreams]

𝑇𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ ⋆.˚

[flowersforjude]

𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Azriel x Fem Archeron!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | In your struggle to adapt to your new existence, the Night Court's shadowsinger takes it upon himself to offer his quiet comfort.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2,537

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mentions of reader in the Cauldron, Anxiety, Depersonalization, Sweet Az, Fluff, Emotional hurt/comfort, Hints at reader and Az being mates. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I’m only half way through the 2nd book so I apologize for any mistakes or inaccuracies. I have a pretty good idea of what happens in the rest of the series, I just haven’t read it yet. Azriel is quickly becoming a favorite, though, so I just had to write something for him. He might be a bit ooc.

masterlist

It was the twilight hour at the House of Wind. The atmosphere was dense and strangling, a tension sitting in the air so turbulent one wrong breath could shatter the carefully constructed peace. Azriel and Cassian certainly had their hands full. Neither of the males able to dispel the strain. Rhysand was sequestered away you knew not where, leaving his brothers with the responsibility of navigating the fractured states of you and your sisters.

You sat near the window of your room, your hands curled tightly in your lap, trying to ignore the suffocating weight of everything you couldn’t fix. Couldn’t feel. Couldn’t understand.

Nesta’s sharp voice echoed faintly down the corridor, cutting through the heavy silence that pressed on your ears. Elain’s quiet sorrow was just as palpable, an ache that you didn’t have the strength to soothe, even if you wanted to. 

And you? You were drowning. Over and over again, feeling your humanity being ripped from you. Clawed away and shredded into the withering pain that tore across your skin. Never able to take in an easy breath because each intake of air felt like the Cauldron’s scorching water was invading your lungs. It turned to lead inside you, dragging you down down down into the blackened depths. 

You had come out transformed into someone, something, you didn’t recognize. You were fragmented, frayed, and whatever pieces were left of you no longer seemed to fit. 

The knock at your door startled you, a soft sound, almost hesitant, like whoever stood on the other side wasn’t sure they were welcome. You didn’t respond aloud—what would you say?—but something about the silence must have been answer enough because the door creaked open.

It was Azriel.

Of course, it was him. He always seemed to know when to appear, not with the smooth certainty of someone who could fix everything, but with the quiet persistence of someone who couldn’t walk away. His presence made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t understand, a weight and a warmth all at once.

He carried a tray of food, though his hands, so steady normally, looked almost awkward now. His shadows trailed at his feet, curling along the floor like restless whispers, and for a moment, you wondered if they’d been listening to you earlier. To the broken sounds you hadn’t meant for anyone to hear. Was that why he was here now?

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice low, rough, like the question cost him something to ask.

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. How were you feeling? Empty? Heavy? Nothing and everything all at once? You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of such a simple question when the answer was anything but. Instead, you shrugged, the motion barely more than a flicker of movement.

Azriel shifted, the tray now resting on the table beside you. He flexed his hands at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them now. His large wings were folded low at his back like he was attempting to make them less noticeable.

Is he doing that for me? To not…frighten me, perhaps?

He didn’t sit, didn’t move closer, but his presence filled the room, steady and quiet and infuriatingly unshakable. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long before he looked away, his jaw tightening.

You shifted in place on the window seat, folding your hands in your lap to keep from picking at the skin around your nails. It was a nervous habit you'd had all your human life, and it seemed to have followed you into your new fae existence. To be frank, the habit had gotten worse since your ordeal in the Cauldron. You were antsy, jumpy, and nervous all the time now. 

"I'm fine." You finally said in a small whisper. You felt the embarrassment creep in as you spoke. It was only two words, but it felt like it was more than you'd spoken at all since you were shoved into that dreadful, life-altering vessel. Your voice wasn't as strong as it used to be; you weren’t as strong as you used to be. Not even with your newfound abilities. Sure, you were more graceful than before, your now pointed ears could hear a bit better than before, and your skin seemed to shine like starlight, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were a great deal more fragile now.

Especially when Azriel stood before you. The Illyrian male was the very definition of strength. You couldn't fathom why he was here right now, checking on you. But some deep, deep part of you, a part that felt as if it hadn't been there before the Cauldron, was practically beaming at his presence. It warmed inside you and sang into your mind, telling you to reach out for him. That even brushing briefly against his tanned skin would bring you lifetimes of comfort. It was absurd.

You really are losing your mind.

Azriel shifted, the gentle scrape of his boots against the floor pulling you from the spiraling thoughts threatening to consume you. His wings twitched, an almost imperceptible movement, but you caught it. You’d noticed that before, how you were always so aware of his every movement. You caught everything he did, each subtle sound and flicker of motion. It was overwhelming sometimes, this heightened awareness of him. Yet another thing you didn’t understand.

He cleared his throat softly, drawing your gaze back to him. “You don’t have to say you’re fine,” he murmured, his voice a blend of rough honesty and something more delicate, something that felt like understanding. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”

The warmth in your chest flared again, unbidden and unrelenting. You swallowed against it, against the strange pull that seemed to tether you to him, as if some invisible thread had bound itself around your heart and was now tugging mercilessly. It was maddening. You didn’t want to feel this way—this need, this want for something you couldn’t even name.

Azriel’s words settled in the room like a fragile thread, the kind that could snap with just the breath of the wrong response. He didn’t move, didn’t look at you fully, but you felt his focus anyway, sharp and unwavering. His presence was a steady hum in the background of your awareness, grounding and yet deeply unsettling at the same time.

“I…” you started, the sound so faint it barely carried between you. Your throat felt tight as if you were drowning all over again, your words caught somewhere between your chest and lips. You wanted to speak, to tell him something, anything, to fill the suffocating silence. But you didn’t know what to say. The pieces of yourself that once knew how to converse, how to be normal, felt like they had dissolved into the Cauldron’s depths, leaving you raw and exposed.

He didn’t push. He simply waited, patient as ever, his shadows coiling and shifting in the corners of the room like uneasy sentinels. They didn’t feel intrusive, strangely enough. If anything, they were like him—watchful, protective, and respectful of boundaries you couldn’t yet define.

Finally, you managed to meet his gaze, though it felt like an act of courage to do so. “I don’t know how to feel…or how to be anymore,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a quiet, cracked rush. You hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t planned on baring even this sliver of yourself to him, but it was the truth. And something about him, about the calm compassion in his eyes, made it impossible not to say.

His expression didn’t change, not noticeably, but something about the set of his shoulders eased. “You’re hurting,” he said gently, as if he’d been expecting your answer all along. “And that is alright.”

The simplicity of his statement made your chest ache, an ache that felt strangely like relief. You turned your gaze back to your lap, your fingers twitching against one another as you fought the urge to fidget further. “It’s just…everything feels wrong,” you confessed. “Like I’m still in there, like I’m still falling, and I’ll never hit the ground.”

You felt him stiffen at your disparaging words. Saw his shadows twist the least bit closer to you, as if even they wanted to offer you some sort of solace. His voice came soft and steady, like the first breeze after a storm. “I’ve felt that way before,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his tone striking like a sudden chord in the quiet. “Like I’d been untethered, and there was no ground left to find.”

His raw honesty caught you off guard, forcing you to search for his gaze again. Nothing could have prepared you for the earnestness you not only saw in his eyes, but it also dripped from him like water. You couldn’t picture Azriel being anything but sure and unyielding. But in the same moment, you felt beholden to him for sharing such a piece of himself just to comfort you. 

The continuous tightness in your lungs lessened just a fraction, enough to allow you to take your first easy breath in weeks. “Does it ever go away?”

“Not entirely,” he said almost regretfully. Your heart sank a bit, but before you could fall completely into despair, he added, “But it does get easier.

Your words left you once more, your mind reeling with the idea of fighting this for the rest of your life. A life that would now be centuries long.

It was no surprise that he caught the shudder of dejection that crossed your face. His shadows curled closer to you like a soothing veil of darkness. Their movement was almost hypnotic, easing in the strange way you’d begun to associate with them. Azriel’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you in a watchful manner. He glanced at the open cushion beside you. “May I?” he asked softly, his voice low and warm, though it carried an edge of uncertainty like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping some invisible line. 

You didn’t even have to think about it before you were nodding. “Of course,” you murmured, trying not to sound too eager.

Azriel moved carefully, lowering himself onto the seat next to you. The space was narrow, and you became acutely aware of how close he was—his knee brushing lightly against yours, the faint scent of cedar and night air surrounding him. You tried to focus on your hands folded tightly in your lap, but the warmth radiating from him was impossible to ignore.

“It won’t always feel like this,” he said gently, his voice hushed and certain. “The weight you’re carrying—it changes. It becomes something you can hold, something you can live with. You’ll find your footing again.”

The conviction in his words floated to you like a lifeline. The way he looked at you, soothing and steadfast, made you feel like you had no choice but to believe him. You nodded more to yourself than to him. Silence settled in the room again, but with him beside you, it felt easier to endure than before. For the first time you didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with something. It was simply enough to sit there with him and let his company anchor you. 

The wisp of something against your arm pulled your attention. The faint brush on your arm was barely noticeable at first, like the lightest touch of silk on your skin. When you glance down, one of Azriel’s shadows glides towards you, curious and tentative. It swirls near your wrist, its edges soft and flickering like the flame of a candle, before retreating as if it was testing the waters. 

You laughed slightly. “Do they always do that?” You asked softly, unable to keep the awe from your voice. The shadow seemed almost alive, sentient in a way that both mesmerized and unsettled you.

Azriel followed your gaze to the shadow, his expression lightened in a way you hadn’t expected. “Not always.” He divulged, his tone carrying something akin to fondness. “They’re curious about you.”

You tilted your head at him, your brows furrowing. “Me?”

“They’re drawn to certain people,” he explained, his voice low and even, as though sharing a closely guarded secret. “They can sense things others can’t.”

The shadow flickered closer again, this time brushing along your hand in a more eager manner. You couldn’t help but smile faintly, the sensation strangely soothing. “They’re not what I expected,” you said, your voice still so as to not scare the shadow.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his eyes seeming to search you for something. “What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure.” You confessed, glancing at him. “Something harsher maybe.”

“They can be,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “When they need to be.”

You looked at him fully then, the true meaning behind his words sparking comprehension in your mind. There was a deeper depth to his shadows, a duality that mirrored their master. You wondered if he’d been born with them. If he had grown with them. Or if they had been birthed from pain, from the darkness he carried with him that hadn’t always been there. “They feel safe.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. 

Azriel’s eyes glimmered with something you couldn’t quite name, some sort of longing. “They’re meant to be,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. You could hear the unspoken words he didn’t say, though. He was holding something back. 

The space between you seemed to get smaller and smaller, his warmth wrapping around you like a second skin. You became dangerously aware of how close you were—of the brush of his knee against yours, the way his wings shifted slightly behind him, almost grazing your shoulder. Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, suddenly self-conscious.

Azriel took note; of course he did. His eyes lingered on you, his expression bordering on hunger. But it was gone and replaced by neutrality as soon as it came. Though, you could still feel the weight of his attention. His shadows danced along your wrist again, and you wondered if they could sense the fluttering beat of your pulse. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice rougher now, tinged with something that almost sounded like desperation. 

“You didn’t,” you replied quickly, your voice shaky but earnest.

The moment lingered between you, fragile yet thrumming with something so strong. The potency of it forces you to grapple with everything you felt for him. His shadows swirled around you softly, their movements calmer now, almost languid. You thought he might say something, that the weight in his expression would finally take shape in words, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted ever so slightly, his arm brushing yours. You leaned into him and felt that warmth in your chest thrill at the closeness.

Something unknown, something that could wait to be explored, hummed between you. And you didn’t realize it right away, but the Cauldron’s waters felt farther away than they had in weeks.

Kind of playing with an idea for a part two with some moments leading up to them finding out they're mates.

[mellowmusings]

coffee for your head | part 3

part 2

Azriel x reader A/N- highkey dead rn, wanna kms :) let me know if you wanna be tagged. my dumbass confused it with blessed mistakes first lmao Summary-After loosing his mate Azriel falls into severe depression barely living and eating at all, his entire life had fallen apart and even after a century of grieving he still couldn't pull himself up to the surface, but in his hole of self pity a ladder reaches down to him.

part 3- The healing The nights were still hard. Shadows curled restlessly around Azriel, whispering fragments of his past and pulling him toward the memories he couldn’t escape. He didn’t sleep much, haunted by dreams that left him cold and aching. But lately, there was something—someone—that offered a reprieve from the endless cycle of guilt and grief.

You.

It wasn’t as though you had come into his life and magically made everything better. The ache of losing his mate didn’t vanish overnight, nor did the guilt of allowing himself to feel something new. But your presence was steady, warm, and—most importantly—patient.

That patience was what terrified him the most.

Azriel noticed the little things first. The way you brewed his tea just how he liked it, even though he’d never told you. The way you left space for him at the dinner table but didn’t press when he chose to sit alone. The way you laughed—soft and sincere, as if the world hadn’t left its scars on you the way it had on him.

He didn’t know how to handle it.

The first time you sat beside him in the garden, saying nothing but letting your presence fill the silence, he found himself gripping his hands tightly in his lap. The urge to speak warred with the urge to push you away, to tell you that you deserved someone less broken.

But you didn’t ask him to speak. You just stayed. And something inside him cracked.

The journey wasn’t smooth. Healing rarely was.

There were moments when Azriel felt like he was suffocating, the weight of the past pressing down on his chest. He’d wake in a cold sweat, his shadows coiled tightly around him, and he’d remember her—his mate. Her laughter, her voice, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then he’d think of you. The way you smiled at him, the way your eyes softened when you looked his way. It was different, softer.

It wasn’t wrong, was it? To find comfort in someone else?

But comfort didn’t always come easily.

One evening, you had invited him to join you for a walk along the Sidra. It wasn’t unusual—walking had become one of the few ways Azriel could clear his mind. But that day, he was restless, his shadows unusually loud, their whispers biting at the edges of his thoughts.

“Come with me,” you said, your tone light, though he could see the concern in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, his voice sharper than he intended.

You blinked, clearly taken aback, but you didn’t back down. “Azriel, you’ve been sitting in this room all day. A walk might help—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, the words cold and biting.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You stood there, your expression carefully blank, though he could see the hurt flicker across your features before you masked it.

“Alright,” you said quietly, turning to leave.

The door closed softly behind you, and Azriel sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The guilt was immediate, suffocating. He hadn’t meant to lash out, hadn’t meant to hurt you.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know how to let someone in without fear of losing them.

He found you later that night, sitting by the fire in the House of Wind. You didn’t look up when he approached, your focus on the flames, but you didn’t tell him to leave, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.

You turned to him then, your eyes searching his face. “I’m not upset because you snapped at me, Azriel. I’m upset because you keep shutting me out.”

“I don’t mean to,” he admitted, his shadows curling around his shoulders like a shield. “I just—this isn’t easy for me. Letting someone in. Letting myself feel…” He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

You softened, your gaze steady. “I know it’s not easy. But I’m not asking you to do this alone. I’m here, Azriel. For as long as you’ll let me be.”

Something about the way you said it, so quietly but with such conviction, unraveled him. He sat beside you, his shoulders brushing yours, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself lean into someone else’s strength.

The fights were never explosive, but they were frequent enough to be a reminder of how much he still had to learn.

There was the time he forgot to meet you for lunch, lost in his own thoughts, and you had spent the afternoon pacing in worry.

“I thought something had happened to you,” you’d said when he finally returned, your voice tight with frustration.

“I didn’t ask you to worry,” he’d replied, defensive.

“No, you didn’t,” you said, your tone sharp. “But I do. Because I care about you, Azriel. And if that’s going to be a problem, maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t say that.”

The tension hung between you like a fragile thread, but eventually, you both stepped back, your anger cooling. He apologized, and so did you, and the rift between you mended just a little.

There were also moments of quiet understanding, of small victories that felt monumental.

The first time he reached for your hand without overthinking it, you’d smiled so brightly he felt like the sun had come out just for him.

The first time he let you into his room, the space he had once considered sacred and untouchable, you had treated it with the reverence it deserved.

The first time he laughed—truly laughed—at something you said, the sound was so foreign to him that it startled both of you.

And through it all, you stayed.

It wasn’t until months later, as you sat together in the same garden where this journey had begun, that Azriel truly let himself acknowledge what he felt for you.

You were reading, your legs tucked beneath you, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow across your face. His shadows were unusually quiet, as if even they recognized the peace of the moment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until you looked up, your lips quirking in a soft smile. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, though his voice betrayed him.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “You don’t have to say it, Azriel. Not until you’re ready.”

But he was ready.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face before it softened into something warm and radiant. “I love you, too.”

And for the first time in over a century, Azriel felt something he hadn’t thought possible.

Hope. Beautiful radiant hope.

@anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3 @inkedinshadows

[thebookishgaymer]

I’m picturing Az begging Lucien to thrust harder while Lucien pins Az’s arms above his head and Lucien’s long hair brushes against Az’s sensitive wings and makes Az writhe in pleasure.

P.s. Gwyn is eating Elain out in the kitchen (they were supposed to make dinner for the 4 of them to have a double date)

[surielstea]

Undercover Affection

Based on a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, you must pretend to be a couple. During which it’s revealed that Azriel and you are mated.

Warnings: none (that I know of)

A.Note: After a month of ghosting you guys I’m finally back!! And with a fic I’m very proud of so I hope you guys enjoy!!

7.9k word count.

The instructions had been simple enough: "Blend in, gather information, and avoid getting caught." But for some reason, Rhysand had thought it necessary to throw in an extra condition—one Azriel seemed to want to claw his way out of.

"I work alone." The shadow singer gritted through his teeth, shadows billowing over his impressively sized wings.

"Not for this mission, you won't." The High Lord immediately dismisses him, not batting an eye at the male who perhaps every other fae in Prythian was terrified of.

"She's not ready, she'll be a distraction." Azriel counters. A foreign part of you panged with disappointment at that. Did he really find you so incompetent?

Rhys argues back immediately, his anger beginning to ramp up to meet Azriel's and you quickly decide you didn't want to be anywhere near when they collided. "You told me yourself just last week she's the best spy you've ever trained."

Your eyebrows lift a fraction at what Rhys had unconsciously confessed, the barest reaction but enough for the shadow singer to pick up on. His hazel eyes flicked to your own gaze, then back to Rhysand's.

They seemed to be having a conversation, one you couldn't hear. You doubted you'd ever get used to that, the way Rhys could slip into someone's mind—even someone as guarded as Azriel. A shiver went down your spine as you thought about the power of the High Lord of Night.

"You have to be out of your mind if you think I'll ever put her in that kind of danger." Azriel seethed to his brother through the mental connection, unable to even fathom the idea of you having a target on your back.

"She may be your mate but she is also your disciple, did you seriously think she'd never go out into the field?" Rhys could sense his anger, feel it ebbing against a shield that was thinning.

"I only taught her spy work so she'd know how to protect herself—never to put her in harm's way," Azriel says, his frustration making his voice sound almost pleading.

"Then you know she can protect herself. You will be beside her every step of the way, what she wants to do is entirely her decision." Rhys remarks.

"And what if the bond snaps? It could jeopardize the mission—much more, her safety." Azriel poses, the scenario would make all hell break loose in all situations.

"Are you implying you can't keep her safe?" Rhys taunts, the words finding their mark in the Spy Masters head.

You watch their expressions closely, attempting to pick up on what they were saying but the only reaction you could spot was the way Azriel's jaw feathered as he pushed off Rhysand's desk and turned to me.

"Do you think you're ready for this?" There was a certain softness in his eyes you only got rare glimpses of, the sight making you swallow hard.

Your throat felt tight, but you straightened your shoulders and lifted your chin. "I am." Your voice didn't waver, though the intensity of his hazel eyes made it a near thing.

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed you both with a calculating air. The quiet smile tugging at his lips felt almost dangerous like he already knew the outcome of a game you hadn't even realized you were playing.

"The ball," he began, voice smooth, "is being hosted by High Fae whose loyalty to Prythian is questionable at best. Whispers suggest they're courting alliances with forces hostile to Velaris. If true, this could be the first move toward rebellion."

He slid a detailed sketch across the desk. The male's sharp features and cold, calculating eyes etched into the paper made your stomach tighten. Rhys's voice remained steady as he continued. "Kaieel is the orchestrator. We need names, allies, plans—anything we can use to dismantle his efforts before they gain traction. The masks and secrecy of the event work in our favor. You'll attend, blend in with the crowd, and leave no trace of your presence."

"And our cover?" you asked, though you weren't sure you wanted the answer.

Rhys's lips twitched. "Newlyweds."

The single word hit you like a jolt of lightning. Your heart stumbled, catching somewhere between shock and disbelief. "A couple?" you uttered, trying to keep your voice even.

"A young pair enamored with each other and blissfully distracted. The perfect cover." Rhys's eyes sparkled with mirth, though his tone was all business. "An unattached male draws suspicion. A pair in love does not."

Azriel didn't react outwardly, but his silence spoke volumes. You risked a glance at him, finding his gaze fixed somewhere distant. Was the idea truly so unbearable to him?

"The priority," Rhys continued, "is information. If your cover is compromised, you extract yourselves immediately. But until then, you'll need to act the part—dancing, whispering... perhaps even a kiss or two, if the situation calls for it."

"Rhys," Azriel growled, low and lethal.

Rhys only smirked, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. "Relax, Az. You might even have fun. Any questions?"

You shook your head, pulse hammering. The mission was simple in theory, but with Azriel by your side—close enough to feel his warmth, to brush against the bond neither of you had spoken of—it felt like you were stepping into something far more dangerous than a ballroom full of enemies.

"Good," Rhys said, dismissing you both with a wave. "You leave at dusk."

Azriel turned abruptly, the tension in his wings a visible reminder of the storm brewing within him. As he stalked toward the door, you followed, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

Whatever lay ahead, one thing was clear: the mission wouldn't just test your skills as a spy—it would test every fragile boundary you and Azriel had built between the two of you.

—

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your gown, the soft, luxurious material clinging perfectly to your frame before pooling at your feet. It was a deep shade of midnight grey, almost black, designed to shimmer as if it were the color of the moon itself, glimmering silver in the right lighting. The neckline dipped just enough to be daring without crossing into scandalous, and the fitted bodice accentuated every curve. The gown was a far cry from the shadowy leathers you had grown accustomed to during training.

Your fingers brushed over the mask lying on the vanity before you. It was delicate, intricate silver filigree adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light to match my dress. The sight of it alone made your stomach twist with nerves, though you refused to let the feeling take hold. You were a spy, not some jittery debutante.

Focus.

Your gaze shifted to the mirror as you adjusted the gown again, letting out a slow breath. The transformation was undeniable; the person staring back at you looked like they belonged at this kind of event. For a moment, you barely recognized yourself, and that unfamiliarity was almost reassuring. If you didn't recognize yourself, maybe no one else would either.

The soft knock at the door startled you. You turned, calling out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, closing it behind him with deliberate care.

Your breath was stolen from your lungs at the sight of the Shadow Singer.

He wore an all-black suit that looked as though it had been tailored specifically for him—and knowing the resources of the Night Court, it probably had. The sharp lines of the jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and the subtle sheen of the fabric only added to the air of elegance that clung to him. His wings were glamoured away, leaving no trace of their presence—which was upsetting, but it was his eyes that made up for it—those piercing hazel eyes, framed by long lashes that truly captured your attention. They swept over you in a single, assessing glance, and you swore you caught the faintest flicker of surprise before his features smoothed into their usual calm.

"You look..." His voice trailed off, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Like I'm about to infiltrate a ball filled with potential traitors to Velaris?" you offered lightly, trying to break the tension that had settled in the room.

"I was going to say beautiful, but that works too," he said simply, his voice low and even. The words sent a strange warmth curling through your chest, though you quickly buried it.

Azriel crossed the room, the measured grace of his movements a reminder of the lethal precision he carried with him always. He stopped just in front of you, holding out his hand. "Your mask."

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing it to him. His gloved fingers brushed against yours as he took it, and you were acutely aware of how close he was as he moved behind you.

The brush of his knuckles against your temple sent a shiver down your spine as he adjusted the mask, tying the soft ribbons at the back of your head with deft fingers. His scent—night-chilled mist and cedar—wrapped around you, a quiet distraction that made it hard to focus.

"There," he murmured, adjusting your hair around the ribbon before stepping back just enough for you to turn and face him. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you wondered if he could sense the way your pulse quickened.

"You clean up well," you said, tilting your head slightly. "Almost didn't recognize you without all the shadows."

He raised a brow, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "You'll have to forgive me for not returning the compliment."

Your lips twitched. "And why's that?"

"Because if I did, we'd be here all night," he replied smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rare, fleeting smile.

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected flirtation. Azriel's humor was subtle, almost elusive, but when it surfaced, it always left you reeling.

Before you could find a response, you remembered the last detail. "Oh, wait." You turned back to the vanity, retrieving the small box you'd nearly forgotten. Inside were two rings—simple, elegant bands meant to complete your cover as a married couple.

You slipped one onto your finger, the cool metal fitting perfectly, the sapphire stone placed atop it glimmering in the sunsetting light. You hold out the other to him. "Rhys gave them to me, for authenticity," you said, keeping your tone light despite the awkwardness that had crept into the air.

Azriel's gaze dropped to the ring in your hand, his expression unreadable as he took it. For a moment, you thought he might protest, but instead, he slid it onto his finger with careful precision.

He slipped it onto his finger without breaking eye contact, the deliberate slowness of the action making your heart race. "There," he said, holding his hand up to examine the ring. "How do I look as your doting husband?"

You took a step back, pretending to assess him with a critical eye. "Hmm, you'll pass—just barely. Try smiling a little more. You're supposed to be madly in love with me, remember?"

Azriel leaned in slightly, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "If I smile too much, they'll think I've lost my mind."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Fair enough."

He reached out then, his hand brushing yours as he straightened an imaginary crease in the sleeve of your gown. The touch was fleeting but enough to send warmth creeping up your neck. When he pulled back, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, grabbing the silver clutch from the vanity and looping it over your wrist. "As I'll ever be."

Azriel extended his arm, a rare gesture that made your lips twitch in surprise. "Shall we, gorgeous?" he teased, his tone low and smooth.

You slid your hand through the crook of his arm, matching his smirk with one of your own. "Lead the way, handsome." Whatever this mission had in store, it was clear the most dangerous thing you'd face tonight wasn't Kaieel or his allies. It was Azriel—and the way he made you feel.

—

The ballroom glittered like a scene from a dream, opulent and indulgent in every detail. Chandeliers sparkled with a thousand lights overhead, their glow casting a soft radiance across the sea of masked figures swirling on the marble floor. The air buzzed with muted conversations, laughter, and the soft strains of a symphony playing in the background.

Your arm was looped through Azriel's, his warmth bleeding into you even through the layers of your gown and his tailored suit. He guided you into the crowd with an ease that belied his tension, his hazel eyes scanning every face, every shadow, every corner.

"Stay close," he murmured, the words just for you, his breath brushing against your temple. His voice, low and commanding, sent a shiver down your spine, though you quickly disguised it as a nod of agreement.

"Hard to get closer than this," you quipped softly, unable to resist. You felt him stiffen slightly under your hand, his wings—glamoured away but somehow still present in your mind—practically bristling with restrained energy.

He didn't respond, but the faintest curve of his lips betrayed him. If it weren't for the mask obscuring part of his face, you might have caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Instead, his focus shifted, scanning the room until it landed on your target.

Kaieel stood near the far edge of the room, his tall frame commanding attention even in this crowd of nobles. His mask, dark and menacing, covered much of his face, but his icy blue eyes gleamed through the filigree, sharp and calculating. A small circle of sycophants surrounded him, laughing too loudly at his every word. He raised a crystal flute to his lips, sipping lazily as though the fate of Prythian wasn't potentially hanging on his next move.

"Eyes on Kaieel," Azriel murmured, tilting his head just enough for his words to reach you. "But keep it subtle. The last thing we want is him noticing our interest too early."

"Subtlety is my specialty," you whispered back, earning a flick of his gaze, though he said nothing. His grip on your hand tightened as he steered you toward the dance floor.

Before you could question him, Azriel pivoted smoothly, releasing your arm only to catch your hand and pull you into a waltz. The sudden movement startled you, your other hand landing instinctively on his shoulder as he spun you into the rhythm of the music.

"A dance?" you asked, arching a brow as you tried to ignore the way his hand settled on your waist, firm but not overbearing.

"Blending in," he replied simply, though the set of his jaw betrayed the faintest hint of awkwardness. "Everyone else is dancing. And from here, we have a better view of Kaieel."

You followed his lead, your feet moving in time with his despite the distraction of his proximity. The bond hummed faintly at the back of your mind, an awareness you fought to suppress as you focused on the task at hand. His scent—cedar and chilled mist—wrapped around you, grounding and maddening all at once.

"So," you ventured, your voice low, "do we just stare at him all night, or do we actually have a plan?"

Azriel's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Patience. Kaieel will make his move eventually. Until then, we observe."

"Observation is all well and good," you said, your tone light despite the weight of the moment, "but what if he decides to slip away before we get what we need?"

"He won't," Azriel replied, his confidence a quiet anchor in the storm of your nerves. "He's too arrogant to think anyone here is a threat to him."

You were about to respond when Kaieel's laugh cut through the music, sharp and derisive. Your gaze flicked toward him in time to see him gesture grandly to his circle, drawing their attention—and yours. The words he spoke were lost in the distance, but the smug tilt of his head and the pointed glance he cast toward a cloaked figure in the corner sent a chill down your spine.

"Did you see that?" you murmured, tilting your head subtly toward Kaieel.

Azriel's grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. "I saw. He's signaling someone."

Your next step faltered, and Azriel steadied you instantly, his hand at your back pressing you closer. "Careful," he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver through you. "If you trip, they'll notice."

"Noted," you said, your cheeks warming despite yourself. You tilted your head again, pretending to focus on him as you spoke. "The cloaked figure in the corner. Could be a contact."

"Could be," Azriel agreed, his hazel eyes flicking toward the figure in question. "But we won't know for sure until we get closer."

"And how do you propose we do that without drawing attention?" you asked, trying to ignore the way his hand seemed to linger on your back, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your gown in a way that felt almost deliberate.

Azriel's lips curved into a smirk, subtle but unmistakable. "Leave that to me."

Before you could question him further, the song ended, and he stepped back, bowing slightly as he offered you his arm again. You accepted it, allowing him to guide you off the dance floor and toward the far side of the room. Kaieel's attention was still focused on his circle, oblivious to your approach.

Azriel leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "We'll circle the room, make small talk, and get close enough to overhear. Follow my lead."

"Always," you replied softly, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Azriel's gaze snapped to yours, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing as he led you deeper into the crowd.

The mission demanded your focus, but with Azriel at your side, his presence steady and unyielding, you couldn't help but wonder if the real danger tonight wasn't the secrets hidden in this ballroom—but the ones you carried in your heart.

You move through the ballroom like smoke, seamlessly blending with the opulent crowd. Strangers smile at you—glittering masks of civility over a sea of intentions. They don't need to know who you are; your presence, the confident tilt of your chin, and the luxury of your attire tell them enough. Wealth recognizes power, even in passing.

When you wave at a woman standing beside Kaieel, she returns the gesture, though her eyes narrow ever so slightly, a flicker of confusion betraying her effort to place you. Still, she beckons you closer with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to command.

"Lady Reven," Azriel murmurs in your ear, his voice as soft and deliberate as the shadows that cling to him. "Ex-wife of Kaieel. The hostess of tonight's spectacle."

"She invited her ex-husband?" you ask under your breath, your smile unwavering despite the furrow of your brows.

"He's funding it," Azriel replies, his golden eyes scanning the room. "This way, he and his associates can conspire without his name attached. If the plot unravels—"

"She takes the fall," you finish, your mind catching up to the threads he's weaving.

"Precisely," he says with a wry twist of his lips. Then, with a pointed glance at Lady Reven, he adds, "And she, my love, is your key to him."

Your heart stumbles at his phrasing. Your key? You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with a slight tilt of his head. "I won't be far," he assures you, his voice a soft promise. And then, as if sensing your doubt, the cool, silken pressure of shadows winds beneath your dress, curling around your thigh like an unspoken vow. The sensation is enough to make your knees threaten to buckle.

"What do I even say to her?" you whisper, frowning.

Azriel chuckles, low and teasing. "Have you forgotten all your training already?" The confidence in his tone steadies you. "You'll do just fine. I'll fetch us drinks and join you shortly," he adds, leaning down to press a brief, warm kiss to your temple before vanishing into the crowd like mist.

You force a breath into your lungs and set your shoulders, willing confidence into your stride as you cross the ballroom. The shadows move with you, unseen but ever-present, their cool touch synchronizing with the rhythm of your steps.

As you approach a table laden with crystalline champagne flutes and decadent sweets, your ears tune in to the sharp edges of Lady Reven's voice, drifting from where she speaks to a maid.

"And make sure he leaves alone tonight," she hisses. "He's humiliated me enough in public without dragging some—other female into it."

The maid nods, scurrying off, and you let your gaze fall to the intricately carved edge of the table. The urge to fidget nearly overcomes you before Lady Reven's voice pulls you from the habit.

"I wouldn't bother with the chocolates," she says coolly, stepping closer.

You glance at her, feigning an easy smile. "Good to know." You nod. "I've never been one for sweets anyway, Lady Reven."

Her ruby-red lips curl upward in a knowing smirk. "Have we met?" she asks, her sharp eyes studying you with thinly veiled suspicion.

"Only on paper," you reply smoothly. "My husband works for Kaieel."

Recognition softens her features. "Ah, a friend of Kaieel is a friend of mine," she purrs. "Call me Valenia."

"Of course. Valenia," you echo with a nod, subtly testing the name.

"And where is your husband tonight?" she asks, gesturing vaguely to the glittering crowd.

You tilt your head with a small laugh. "Fetching me something stronger than this champagne," you quip, gesturing towards the burbling fountain of sparkling wine in the center. The honesty surprises her into a laugh of her own.

"Well, I'll have to apologize for the watered-down drinks," she says lightly, her tone dripping with feigned humility.

"No need. This is a stunning event," you counter, gesturing to the ballroom.

A flicker of satisfaction crosses her face. "I think we're alike, you and I," she muses, before looping her arm through yours. "Come. I'll introduce you to Kaieel."

Your pulse quickens as she steers you across the room. You catch Azriel's golden gaze from where he's threading through the crowd, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

"I really should wait for my husband," you try, a nervous laugh slipping out. "We've been recently married, couldn't keep him away if I tried." You attempt to excuse.

"Then it'll be easy for him to find us, hm?" Valenia dismisses with a wink, tugging you forward until you're standing before Kaieel himself.

Kaieel was sprawled on a chaise lounge, maids bringing him drinks, butlers feeding him by hand like he was some kind of king. Even Rhys wasn't this ostentatious. His turquoise eyes fell on you as Lady Raven guided you towards him, dragging his gaze across every inch of your figure. You did your best to ignore it, giving him a bashful smile.

"What have I done to deserve the company of two such radiant creatures?" Kaieel drawls, his grin wide and smug as he leans back in his seat.

"Kai," Valenia greets, her tone deceptively warm, intimacy still flowing between them. "This is—oh, dear, I fear I never got your name."

Before you can answer, an arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you into the familiar scent of cedar and night mist, the warmth of his hold makes your tense shoulders relax.

"Mrs. Lawmore," Azriel announces smoothly, answering for you as he gives Kaieel a grin, his smile disarming as he shields you beneath his presence.

"Lawmore?" Kaieel's eyes narrow with interest. "Lysan Lawmore, is that you under that mask?"

Azriel bows his head slightly, keeping his eyes down in fear of being caught. "It's been some time, apology for my absence but my beautiful wife here needed to be spoiled after our wedding night." You didn't want to know what happened to the real Lysan, neither did you want to know what Azriel did to him to get this information out of him.

"And how exactly did you win over such a lovely companion?" Kaieel continues, taking your hand with practiced charm, his lips brushing lightly over the sapphire on your ring finger.

You smile, tilting your head bashfully. "I believe I was the one winning him over," you say, cutting in before Azriel can.

Azriel's fingers trail from your shoulder down your arm, taking your hand from Kaieel's grasp and threading his fingers with yours. His touch is possessive but gentle, a silent claim.

"How sweet," Kaieel remarks, raising his glass in mock toast. "Remember when we were like that, darling?"

Valenia's eyes flash, her smirk tightening as she looks away. "They're newlyweds, Kai. Still in the honeymoon phase."

"Newlyweds, you say? Well, then," Kaieel says with a devilish grin. "We must celebrate. Let's toast!" He stood, raising his glass. He didn't have to so much as say a word for the entire ballroom to halt and turn to him.

"So kind of all of you to join us on this fine evening, not only are we celebrating this beautiful gathering the lovely Valenia put together," He pauses for a moment to gesture towards the woman who gave a practiced smile and an elegant wave of her hand. "But we are also celebrating the recently pronounced Mr. And Mrs. Lawmore!" He raises his glass, and even if none of these people so much as knew your name, they cheered anyway. Like puppets on a string, controlled by Kaieel himself.

"Go on," Kaieel presses, leaning forward with a wicked glint in his eye. "Kiss the bride."

The demand sends a shiver down your spine. Even the shadows twining around your legs seem to still, waiting.

Azriel was already staring at you, his eyes searching yours. His lips quirk into a soft, almost shy smile, and the question in his gaze is unmistakable.

You nod, barely perceptibly.

"Come here, love," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, tender.

Your lips met, fitting together with startling, unspoken precision—like the final piece of a puzzle you never realized was incomplete until it clicked into place. The kiss lasted only a heartbeat, but in that fleeting moment, everything shifted. The air between the two of you thickened, buzzing with a quiet intensity, as if the universe itself had paused to watch.

Something deep inside you stirred, a part of yourself you'd long buried or perhaps never even known. It unfurled like a blossom in the first light of dawn, warm and aching, a golden thread spinning itself between you. It twined tighter with every second, binding not just your bodies but something deeper, something elemental.

For that brief, infinite instant, there was no ballroom, no crowd, no mission. Just the two of you—two souls suspended in the gravity of a pull you couldn't name but could feel down to your very bones.

And then, like the breathless silence before a storm, realization hit you with shattering clarity. This wasn't just a kiss. It was him. Azriel.

Your mate.

The kiss ended as gently as it began, your eyes wide and searching but he remained calm and steady, you whisper, "You've known?"

Azriel's gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if he was going to kiss you again, and again, and again until the gods themselves had to rip him from you. But before he can answer, the room erupts into applause, Kaieel's voice booming with praise.

Even as the crowd cheers and music resumes, you hear nothing but the pounding of your heart, feel nothing but the truth that thrums in your blood.

Mate.

And he knew.

You don't have time to process the truth searing through your veins. Mate. The word echoes in your mind like a thunderclap, threatening to drown out everything else. But Azriel's hand tightens around yours, steady and grounding. His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable—a mix of reassurance and warning—and you understand: you can't falter. Not here. Not now.

Kaieel's voice cuts through the applause, smug and commanding. "Come now, don't let the celebration stop the night's festivities. Dance, drink, enjoy yourselves!" His hand sweeps over the crowd, his charisma intoxicating, pulling their attention away from you. For now.

"You're too kind, Kaieel," Azriel says. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time with my wife."

Azriel tugs gently on your hand, guiding you away from the center of the ballroom. You follow, trying to shake the weight of the bond snapping into place. But even as he leads you, the golden thread between you hums with a new, undeniable awareness, the shadows brushing against you like a silent promise.

He doesn't speak until you've reached the edge of the room, tucked into the shadowy recess of a grand marble column. His lips are close to your ear, his voice low and smooth. "Are you with me?"

You nod, the words caught in your throat.

"Good," he murmurs. "We need to move fast. Valenia is the key to his plans. Now that you become acquainted we can use her."

You blink, willing yourself to focus. "How?"

"She's vulnerable," Azriel says, his tone edged with calculation. "Kaieel still holds power over her, and it's clear she despises him for it. We can exploit that. Learn who his allies are, how he's funding this rebellion. If we play her right, she'll give us everything."

You glance toward the center of the room, where Valenia stands at Kaieel's side, her posture poised but her eyes cold as she watches him bask in the attention of the crowd. Her mask of indifference is expertly crafted, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten around her champagne flute.

"She definitely hates him," you say quietly. "But will she betray him?"

Azriel's shadows curl against your skin, cold and steady. "She already has. Hosting this event on his behalf, exposing him to scrutiny. She's more desperate than she lets on." He tilts his head toward you, his voice softer now. "We just need to give her the final push."

You swallow hard, nodding. "And if she doesn't break?"

Azriel's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Then we'll find another way. We always do."

Before you can reply, a servant approaches with a silver tray bearing two glasses of dark red wine. Azriel accepts both, handing one to you with an easy smile that belies the sharpness of his focus.

"Drink," he murmurs. "And dance with me. They're watching."

"Again?" You ask, your heart stuttering, but you take the glass, letting him guide you back toward the dance floor.

"This is a ball, love." The music swells as he pulls you into his arms, his movements are fluid and natural as though you've danced together a hundred times. "You didn't think I'd be satiated with one dance, did you?"

The bond thrums again, golden and electric, and you can't ignore it any longer. "You knew, Az," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the violins.

Azriel's gaze flicks to yours, soft but unyielding. "Not here," he murmurs.

"But—"

"Later," he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. "Focus."

This is why he didn't want you coming, you realize. You force yourself to breathe, to move with him, to match the rhythm of the music. Around you, the crowd swirls, their laughter and chatter a muted backdrop. Kaieel and Valenia are watching from the edge of the room, their expressions unreadable.

"Valenia's looking for an ally," Azriel murmurs as he twirls you gracefully. "She doesn't trust him to win against Rhys. We offer her a way out, and she'll talk."

"How do we approach her without raising suspicion?"

Azriel's lips curve into a faint smirk. "Snead your way into her inner circle. Let her think it was her idea. I'll shadow you, gather what I can from Kaieel's other guests."

"And if something goes wrong?"

His hand slides up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your collarbone—a fleeting, deliberate touch. "It won't."

The music slows, and he pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And even if it did, I'd slaughter everyone in this room to get you out."

You shiver, both from fear and something you didn't have time to familiarize yourself with.

The song ends, and Azriel steps back, his mask of calm once again firmly in place. He presses a light kiss to your hand, his lips brushing your knuckles as his golden eyes lock onto yours.

"I'll be watching," he murmurs. Then he's gone, slipping into the crowd as if he were never there.

You take a steadying breath, turning your gaze toward Valenia. She's speaking with a pair of aristocrats now, her laughter light and airy, but her eyes remain calculating. You approach slowly, your steps measured and deliberate.

"Lady Valenia," you say with a soft smile as you reach her side. "I must thank you again for this incredible event."

She turns to you, her lips curling into a practiced smile. "Ah, Mrs. Lawmore. Enjoying yourself, I hope?"

"Very much," you reply smoothly. "Though I must admit, I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you more privately. Your reputation precedes you."

Her brows lift slightly, intrigue flickering in her eyes. "Does it now? And what exactly have you heard?"

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to draw her closer. "That you're the true power behind Kaieel's successes. A woman of vision and cunning."

She laughs softly, but there's a sharpness to it. "And what would you want with a woman like that, my dear?"

You smile, your gaze steady. "To learn from you, of course. I imagine there's much you could teach me."

Her eyes narrow slightly, studying you. Then, with a sly smile, she links her arm with yours. "Come, let's talk. Away from prying eyes."

As she leads you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, you catch a glimpse of Azriel in the crowd. He's watching, his expression unreadable but his presence a constant reassurance.

The game has begun.

———

The ball had stretched into the long hours of the night. Most guests had already taken their leave, yet a few lingered—drunkards, their fingers greedily grasping for what remained of the free wine. You had spent the evening carefully cultivating a list of names, all while trying not to let the thought of your mate—a word that still felt foreign in your mind—distract you.

Valenia, meanwhile, had rattled on endlessly, weaving a tapestry of grand schemes to dismantle Kaieel's empire and seize it for herself. Such a fool. The way she outlined every step was invaluable, her unwitting admissions offering a clear view of both her vulnerabilities and Kaieel's. For someone who fancied herself clever, she didn't understand the dangers of oversharing. Perhaps conspiring alone for so long had driven her to some invisible line of insanity, one she'd now crossed with aplomb.

She was smarter than Kaieel, no doubt, but she wasn't as sharp as she thought herself to be. The rich rarely were. They plotted in circles, their plans frayed with assumptions that gold could patch any hole. A society built on corruption and greed was a society destined to crumble.

A knock on the door shattered the air between you, halting Valenia mid-sentence. Both of you froze as the door creaked open, revealing familiar black hair and molten golden eyes.

"Lysan," you said smoothly, forcing an easy smile.

Valenia hiccuped, swaying slightly as she glanced between you. The liquor had loosened her tongue and dulled her senses—a poor, unsuspecting thing. You'd kept her glass full all night, though yours had remained barely touched.

"You two are lucky," she murmured, her words slurred but still carrying a bite of jealousy.

Azriel tilted his head, stepping closer with his hand outstretched. You met him halfway, your fingers intertwining as if it were second nature.

"So in love," Valenia sighed wistfully. She swirled the deep red liquid in her glass. "Kaieel never looked at me the way he looks at you."

Azriel didn't miss a beat. "I am lucky, aren't I?" His voice was low as he leaned in, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. The touch sent a tremor down your spine, though you leaned into him all the same, your composure unwavering.

"You two lovebirds get out of here," Valenia hummed, waving you off with a glass in hand. "I'll see you soon, Mrs. Lawmore."

You smiled at the title she so easily handed over, bowing your head alongside Azriel as you both slipped out of the room. Moments later, you left the ballroom entirely, leaving behind the clinking of glasses and murmurs of deceit.

———

Once you winnowed into The Cabin, the air was thick with unresolved tension, a thread drawn too tight and ready to snap. You released Azriel's arm but remained close, your breath steady, your gaze piercing.

He shifted, glancing at you with that careful, measured expression of his, but you saw through it. His wings flared slightly before tucking back, as if the space were already too confined for what lay between you.

"We need to debrief with Rhys—" he began, but the words barely escaped before you cut him off, your voice sharp.

"No." You held up a hand, stepping back. "We're not ignoring this."

Azriel sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He reached up, removing the mask with a deliberate slowness that felt like deflection. "Can I at least get comfortable first?"

"Seriously?" you snapped, your arms crossing over your chest.

But he ignored your tone, unbuttoning his shirt with maddening ease. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, revealing smooth, tan skin and the faint lines of tattoos curling down his forearms. Then came his wings—massive, stretching wide as the glamour faded, their dark beauty filling the room like a storm rolling in.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to look away as he folded them neatly behind him.

“Go on," he said, leaning back against the couch, his tattooed arms crossing over his chest, the sight terribly distracting. "I'm listening."

You glared at him, your voice tight. "You knew," you state.

He nodded slightly, but he said nothing, his golden eyes fixed on you with unnerving calm.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts. "The bond—it's not something you just don't mention. Did you think I couldn't handle it?"

He exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it?" you shot back, your frustration spilling over. "You knew this whole time. Azriel, do you have any idea what it feels like to find out this way? To realize you've been keeping something this—this huge from me?"

His jaw tightened, but his expression softened just enough to betray a flicker of vulnerability. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to force it on you."

You barked out a bitter laugh. "Force it on me? What does that even mean? Did you think I'd reject it?"

Azriel stiffened, his wings flexing behind him as if to shield himself. "It's not that simple."

"Then make it simple," you snapped. "Because right now, it feels like you didn't tell me because you were planning to reject the bond. That you didn't want me—"

His voice cut through yours, low and rough like gravel. "Don't."

The single word silenced you, but only for a moment.

"Then tell me the truth, Azriel," you demanded, your tone breaking under the weight of the words. "Tell me why you didn't say anything. Was it because you didn't want me, or because you thought I didn't want you?"

That hit its mark. His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his wings shifting behind him as though he could fly away from the conversation. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step closer, the heat of his body suffocating.

"Love, please," he said, his voice tight with something raw and unspoken. "Do you know what it's like to see your mate and think, this is it—this is everything I've ever wanted—and to know they don't feel the same? To be terrified that if you tell them, they'll look at you like you're nothing?"

Your breath caught, the weight of his words crashing into you.

"Az."

"I didn't tell you," he continued, his voice quieter now, "because I didn't want to lose you before I even had you. I thought if I told you, it would scare you off. You'd think it was some obligation instead of a choice. And I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk, us."

You blinked, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. He hadn't been withholding it because he didn't want you—he'd been scared. Scared of rejection. Scared of you walking away.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "To see you every day, to stand beside you, and know I couldn't tell you? That I had to act like you were just someone I trained?"

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his words, but the anger lingered, sharp and cutting.

"You still should've told me," you said, your voice soft but firm. "You should've given me the choice. You didn't get to decide that for me."

"I know." He looked at you then, and the regret in his eyes made your chest ache. "I know I should've told you. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But don't think, not even for a second, that I didn't want you."

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. He took a step closer, his golden eyes searching yours.

"You can hate me for not telling you," he said, his voice low and rough. "You can hate me for being a coward. But don't ever think I didn't want this. Don't think I didn't want you. Please."

You stood there, his words reverberating in your chest, threatening to undo the last thread of your composure. His golden eyes never left yours, the air between you charged with too much to name. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breathing even as emotions warred within you.

Finally, you broke the silence. "You should've told me," you said softly, the edge in your voice dulling. "Because for all your talk of not forcing it, you didn't even consider that I might have wanted it too."

His eyes widened slightly, and you took a half-step closer, the tension between you pulling tight.

"I've felt, something," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper now. "For a while. I just figured it was a stupid crush, that I was imagining the lingering glances and the all too long touches." You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "But now I know."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, Azriel looked truly shaken. Vulnerable. Like he didn't know what to do with your words.

So you took the choice away and kissed him.

It was tentative at first, your lips brushing his with a softness that belied the storm building inside you. He froze for a heartbeat, and you thought maybe you'd miscalculated—but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer.

When you pulled back, your lips tingling, you raised a brow at the stunned expression on his face. "Kiss me like that again and I might just have to accept the bond," you teased, your tone light but laced with meaning.

"Oh, I'll do more than that." He replied with an easy smirk on his face and before you could muster a flustered reply he connected your lips again, harder this time, more desperate. His hands slid up your back, his wings stretching slightly as though the emotions were too much for him to contain. You gasped into him, his shadows curling around your legs as his lips claimed you fully, unapologetically.

The kiss stretched, time losing meaning as you melted into him. His tongue brushed against yours, his grip on you firm yet reverent, as if he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or keep himself in check.

He kisses you like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the world like you're the air he needs to breathe. His lips press against yours with fervent urgency, soft yet commanding, leaving no space for hesitation.

The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver racing down your spine, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him—silken and deliberate, coaxing, drawing you in until everything else fades. His hands tighten at your waist, his fingers digging into your dress that rivaled the intensity of his kiss.

The world tilts, time seems to stall, and all you can feel is him—the taste of him, the way his body leans into yours as though he can't bear to be apart. Every brush of his lips, every slight tilt of his head, feels like an unspoken confession as if through this kiss alone, he's telling you everything he can't put into words.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His lips were slightly swollen, his golden eyes darkened with something almost primal.

"What does this mean?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "It means," you said, brushing a finger against his chest, "you're going to sit right there." You push him slightly, and he falls back onto the couch as if you struck him with an unrecoverable blow.

He blinked, clearly thrown off by the abrupt shift in your tone. "What?"

"Sit right there," you repeated, gesturing toward the couch. Then, turning on your heel, you made your way toward the kitchen without a backward glance.

He stared after you, confused as to where you were going during a moment like this.

The sound of pans clinking and spices mingling in the air brought him back to reality, though he still couldn't fully grasp what was happening. He'd faced centuries of war, unflinching in the face of death, yet now he sat there—utterly flustered.

An agonizing twenty minutes later, you returned with a tray, setting it down on the small table in front of him. The aroma was rich and comforting, a simple yet meaningful meal that made his chest tighten.

You placed the tray in front of him, your expression softer now, though the playful glint in your eye hadn't dimmed. "Eat, Azriel," you said, settling beside him. "You've earned it after all these years."

He stared at the plate for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Then he looked at you, his voice unsteady. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

You smiled, leaning down, pressing a kiss onto the corner of his lips just because you couch. "What do you think?"

Azriel didn't answer, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips as he picked up the fork. You watched as he took the first bite, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

The bond hummed between you, a quiet, unspoken promise. And as Azriel sat there, eating the food you'd prepared with shadows still swirling around your feet, you realized that this—this quiet moment—was the most eventful part of the night.

And for once, Azriel looked at ease. Flustered, yes. But undeniably yours. And soon, the frenzy would set in, and he'd show you exactly how much of him was yours, body and soul, mates.

Continued drabble here!

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[assriels]

lessons in touch

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel’s curiosity and penchant for spying reveals exactly why you’ve been more…enthusiastic in bed lately

word count: 5.8k :0

warnings: smut (not super detailed)!! 18+ mdni pls, az being nosy

a/n: this is one of my faves so far :’) i have this persistent silly headcanon that az is the biggest busybody of them all and that’s why he’s so good at his job

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Sex between you and Azriel was far from boring. It was a well known secret that Azriel had a predilection towards kink and experimentation, so your adventures with him between the sheets never left either of you dissatisfied. Far from it, actually.

Being with him was always pleasurable, wonderful, and unrivaled by any you’d had before him. During girls night, you had always attested to his prowess, said that his skills of observation extended past the battlefield and very much into the bedroom. And his wingspan…you would neither confirm nor deny whether the theory around Illyrian males and their wingspan was true, much to their chagrin, but the mischievous smirk that curled your lips was all they needed to confirm their suspicions.

Azriel was a skilled lover; he knew your ins and outs, understood almost innately how to coax pleasure from you with a simple, well placed brush of his fingers. More often than not, Azriel had you in a puddle on the floor before he could even take his pants off. Which, ordinarily, was a more than welcome skill — you loved how well he knew you, adored how he loved you so much that his brain was like a file cabinet of information about things you liked.

But you’d grown frustrated lately, more and more desiring to reduce Azriel to the same pleasure filled putty that he so often did with you. His composure was infuriatingly ironclad; you knew he felt the same primal, overwhelming desire that you did — such was the nature of the mating bond — but he was much better at masking it.

In short, you wanted to know what made him tick, what made him beg and whimper and plead with you to touch him. You’d been mated for a year now, and while his desire for you never waned, you had yet to find the one thing that made him sink to his knees and beg the way he so easily coaxed you to do for him.

It was no secret that your mate had a bold competitive streak. But your own stubbornness rivaled his own, leading to long, long card game nights and sparring matches — much to everyone else’s entertainment.

Though you knew you had no reason to feel such competitiveness when matters of the bedroom were concerned, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance that Azriel had so easily figured out how to make you squirm in a multitude of ways — with all your cards on the table — while you were still somewhat in the dark about his most favored bedroom inclinations. Azriel kept the secrets of his hand close to his chest.

So you vowed to yourself that you’d figure it out, test his composure to see how exactly to make that beautiful, calm countenance crack. It was like a game, but one you were more than willing to play and even more determined to win.

Ever the observer however, Azriel caught on to the changes in your excitement beneath the sheets, amusement and adoration coursing through his veins as he reveled in your sudden vigor, never shying away from a challenge.

You had been more experimental in your bedroom endeavors as of late, asking him to bend you this way and that, introducing things that he never thought you’d be interested in — not that he was complaining in the slightest. Though your differences were strikingly obvious, Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about where your sudden interest in various sexual niches had sprung from.

Initially, it was all fun and games; if you wanted to explore then so be it — he’d match you stroke for stroke every time. But eventually, his nosiness had wedged its way deep into each crevice of his mind until he was all-consumed, curiosity devolving into a burgeoning anxiety.

Was something wrong?

Azriel was positive that if you were bored you would tell him. Had you heard something from one of the others that spurred you to want to explore more? Had you felt as though you had to introduce novelty every time to please him?

You had to have known that was far from the truth; no matter your state, Azriel had always made it clear to you that you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the privilege of knowing, let alone laying with. He didn’t think there was anything wrong…at least not for him. Maybe you felt like something was missing.

“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”

Rhys’s voice snapped him out of his anxious musings. Azriel hadn’t realized that he was pacing so furiously he could have worn a hole through the floor. Both Rhysand and Cassian had been watching with amusement glinting in their eyes. After all, it was a rare sight to see their ordinarily calm and stoic shadowsinger so worked up.

The same poker face Azriel had worn to win countless games of cards against his brothers masked his features now, but the twitch in his brow and the near missable ruffling of his wings were tells that Cassian and Rhysand were well acquainted with.

The shadowsinger had never perfected his stone faced indifference when he was thinking of you.

Cassian ventured a guess, “Have you upset Y/N?”

Cassian had meant to tease, but the way Azriel stayed silent had his eyebrow arching in question. Azriel ignored the curious glance from his brother as his mind ran in circles once more.

Had he upset you? Was your sudden experimentation in bed some roundabout way of telling him that he had done something to hurt you? No, no…that didn’t make sense, he was being illogical.

Or…Had he somehow missed picking up on something that you liked?

Your sudden interest in sexual exploration was far from a problem, but he got the niggling sense that you were up to something, playing a game that he wasn’t privy to. And he wanted in.

Azriel was private by nature, never revealing more of his relationship with you than absolutely necessary to his brothers, not wanting to overshare in fear that he’d fall victim to their incessant teasing. But this…maybe it would be useful to get their opinions about your sudden change in interests? Cassian and Rhys were both mated males afterall, and maybe there was something Azriel was missing. He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he fell victim to his crippling neuroticism more times than he’d like to. Curiosity and anxiety were two sides of the same coin.

So he indulged and told his brothers of your sudden vigor in bed, enthusiasm to try something new every single time. You’d been insatiable as of late and he didn’t know why; nothing had changed that he knew of and it was concerning him, he couldn’t stand not knowing.

“So,” Rhys started tentatively, narrowing his eyes in confusion, not quite grasping the issue that Azriel was so hesitant to endorse. “Y/N is trying new things in bed.”

And elsewhere, Azriel thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’d leave that part out, though; Rhys probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing the details about the going-ons in the dining room of the townhouse. And the gardens. And the hallways.

“And you’re complaining?” Cassian asked, incredulous, similarly at a loss for his brother’s concern.

“I’m not complaining, Cass,” Azriel groaned and slumped unceremoniously into a chair (much like an irritated school child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to), immediately regretting his poorly thought out decision to confide in his brothers. “I’m just confused. I don’t know what she wants.”

“Have you considered asking her?” Rhys inquired, infuriatingly teasing smile curving his lips.

Azriel deadpanned and clicked his tongue, not believing that Rhys would assume he was so inept at communicating with his lover, “Of course I’ve asked. She just says nothing’s changed. I believe her, but it’s still bothering me and I don’t know why.”

Both Cassian and Rhys resisted the urge to laugh, mentally conversing about how Azriel’s affections for you often reduced him to an adolescent-like lovesickness, begging and willing to please. Az had been this way since they were children; fiercely competitive and subsequently pouty if he didn’t have the upper hand, always wanting to know and learn everything he could.

This side of the shadowsinger was one that did not make an appearance often, reserving itself until he was around the few he trusted wholeheartedly.

The past couple of centuries saw even less of this endearingly childish and competitive Azriel – even around his closest friends – as Night Court duties and his identity as Spymaster overshadowed most opportunities to be vulnerable in his relationships.

But when you came around, light began to spark beneath the shadowy depths of Azriel’s countenance as you slowly coaxed him to trust and love as fiercely as everyone knew he was capable of, with the reckless abandon that his childhood self so easily embodied.

“Maybe check her nightstand,” Cassian teased with a wink, only half joking, as a quiet happiness bubbled within him at the small glimpses of Azriel’s vulnerability. “Some of Nesta’s best kept secrets are hidden there.”

Before Azriel could furrow his brow and chastise his brother for snooping through his mate’s belongings, a realization hit him.

Nesta.

You had been spending an awfully large amount of time with the eldest Archeron sister in the library lately, choosing to hole up there in lieu of your other hobbies when you weren’t training or engaging in your various other Night Court duties.

But Nesta would be a dead end. There was no way he could approach her without tipping you off to his secret sleuthing. Though he and Nesta were friends, her loyalties laid with you; there was an unexplainable female camaraderie between you – a chosen sisterhood, if you will – and if he asked if she knew anything about what was going on, she’d go running to you, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

The conversation with his brothers was about as helpful as he initially thought it would be, and he let himself succumb to their jokes about how wrapped around your finger he was. Azriel had endured it graciously, knowing better than anyone that they were right, that he was indeed wrapped so tightly around your little finger that he was unsure of where he ended and you began. That he would gratefully stay in the palm of your hand for as long as you would allow.

But that night, after you had told him not to wait up for you because you’d be having drinks with Feyre and Mor, Cassian’s voice reverberated insistently in his mind.

Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…

Azriel resisted the urge to snoop for all of ten minutes before his inherent nosiness clouded his judgment and got the better of him; afterall, his love for secrets is what made him such an effective spymaster. Before he knew it, he was rolling onto your side of the bed, inquisitive hands pulling open your bedside drawer.

Hidden among the small stack of books he had given you was a thick novel with a cover he recognized, but gave no second thought.

It was a book you said Nesta had lent you. When he asked if you liked it you said it was “only okay” and that you’d let him know if he should read it when you were finished. Despite your lukewarm review, however, it had never left your side, and he had found you on more than one occasion cozied up with it in your hands, cheeks dusted with a heat he knew all too well.

Azriel was well aware of the content of the books Nesta favored, often lending a reluctant ear to a whiny Cassian whenever she paid more attention to her books than him.

But there was no way your sudden excitement for novelty in the bedroom could be inspired by Nesta’s smutty recommendations…right? He leafed through, assessing hazel eyes quickly skimming the paragraphs, catching glimpses of the prose that had you so enraptured.

Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.

It was smut, as he assumed. But this was truly…filth. Pure, unadulterated, filthy smut.

Azriel was a lover of all books, never having been one to categorize or judge them by popular opinion. And, to be completely fair, he had read a decent amount of books filled with sex and romance.

But…he was sure that the acts detailed in this one would make even the Court of Nightmares’s debauchery look saintly. Even Azriel, who had been correctly assumed to be the kinkiest of the Inner Circle, felt tame in comparison to the words flickering across the pages of your book. How did you read this with such impassivity on your face?

Azriel snapped the book shut with such force the pages blew a cool, gentle breeze onto his heating face. He tried – and failed – to not picture you in the position the main character in your book was described in, unintentionally sending a soft hum of his burgeoning arousal down your bond. He was beginning to understand your desire to replicate the more salacious scenes detailed in your novels.

Having fun without me, Az? Came your teasing inquiry in his mind, as he meticulously replaced all of your belongings into your nightstand.

Don’t be nosy, he quipped back, extremely aware of the irony of his statement. And then after a beat he added, answering your question with a sincerity that never failed to grip your heart, Never without you, love.

You left him waiting for a response a little bit longer than you normally would as you attempted to control the thundering beat of your heart in your chest. You were convinced that no amount of time could ever diminish the effects that Azriel’s blatant display of love had on your composure. As much as he was wrapped around your little finger, you were just as tightly wrapped around his.

I take back what I said earlier, wait up for me.

Azriel smirked to himself, feeling a flare of triumph, It’s a date, then. Maybe I’ll find something interesting to read in the meantime.

If you caught on to his sly insinuation, you did not let on, just continued bantering with him for a few moments before returning your full attention to your friends, who were no doubt attempting to extract morsels of information from your obviously lascivious exchange with your lover.

But that night – even after Azriel had promptly fucked you into a blissful oblivion – had yielded no more information about your recent proclivity for finding a new kink, so Azriel did what he did best and spied.

He kept a watchful eye on the books you read, and tracked the times you asked him to try something new. He spent more time in the library than necessary under the guise that Rhys had put him up to some research.

Which was only half of a lie. He was in there to do reconnaissance, yes, just not for Rhys.

Azriel scanned the bookshelves for anything that seemed like it had been recently replaced, pages still clinging to the sweet scent of your skin. A title he recognized caught his eye and he slotted it out of place, flipping through the pages to confirm his suspicions.

This book was shorter than the others he’d seen you carry around, but certainly no less obscene. A smirk pulled at Azriel’s lips as he read a dog eared chapter that you had clearly marked for inspiration, recollections of your most recent tryst in his office flooding his awareness.

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You had sauntered into his small, private study at the House of Wind, short dress skimming the curves of your thighs as you bent to greet him with a kiss to his cheek. He’d been distracted at the time — surveying maps and cross referencing with ancient textbooks — and barely tore his attention away from his work long enough to squeeze your hand in greeting.

But you didn’t seem to mind, opting to make yourself comfortable and purveying the books neatly organized on his shelves. When you’d found a book you thought would be interesting enough — though probably not quite as interesting as the one you’d just finished, per Nesta’s recommendation — you settled into the armchair across Azriel’s desk, shoulders against one armrest as your legs draped over the other.

Azriel looked up at you then, soft smile curving his lips. He loved when you kept him company while he worked; somehow, whenever you were around, work never seemed nearly as daunting or overwhelming.

You met his gaze with your own grin, silently communicating your support of him in the way that only mates could, tugging gently on the bond before winking at him and resettling your attention back to the book in your lap.

The both of you worked in that wonderfully comfortable silence for a while before Azriel caught you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. The sun had begun its routine descent below the horizon, cool breeze stirring the sheer curtains framing his windows. Though summer had plagued the days with heat and humidity, the nights were still cool as the last dregs of spring eked away.

He looked up, intending on asking if you needed anything — a blanket, maybe — but the words died swiftly in his throat when he eyed a flash of bare skin as you swung your legs to stand, showcasing just enough for him to clue in to the fact that you were indeed not wearing underwear. Or anything else under your dress, if the peak of your nipples beneath the silk was anything to go by.

Selfishly, for a brief moment, Azriel decided that maybe keeping the windows open wouldn’t be so bad.

He pried his eyes away from your form making its way back to his bookcase, and instead attempted to tamp down the raging lust stirring in his belly so he could focus. But the mental picture of what he knew lay beneath the barely there fabric of your dress coupled with your scent made the lines on the map he was studying blur into nonsense.

Though intelligent and compassionate at heart, Azriel often found himself a slave to his baser male instincts when it came to you. There was little – if anything – you could do to quell the raging need to touch you, kiss you, be near you at all hours of the day; his desire for you was a constant hum belying his daily routine. He had not one iota of self control when you were involved, much to his simultaneous thrill and chagrin.

Inwardly, he cursed himself as he stole another glance at you as you stretched onto your toes to reach a book on the top shelf.

Beauty incarnate, truly, he thought. Azriel’s eyes tracked each slope and valley of the lines of your body, taking his time to commit each curve to memory, the way he should have been doing with the maps sitting now uselessly on his desk.

You looked at him over your shoulder, small pout on your lips, “Az, can you help me? I can’t reach.”

Azriel’s heart leapt. It’s like you were doing it on purpose, and in hindsight you definitely were. But despite the gnawing adoration encouraging him to fall to his knees and worship at your feet, he stood with the cool grace of someone unperturbed by their mate’s subtle seduction.

Azriel obliged you, coming up behind you, one hand curling around your hip to steady himself as the other reached easily to the top shelf to grab the book your fingertips skimmed. As he leaned forward, you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back and you wanted to abandon all your plans to slowly seduce Azriel into a puddle on the floor, but you remained steadfast in your decision. Nesta had pushed a book into your hands and said she tried this once with Cassian and that the resulting hours were pure heaven, and you wanted to test the theory, curiosity rivaling that of your mate’s.

You barely registered Azriel putting the book in your hands, too lost in the warmth of his familiar touch. But you composed yourself quickly, leaning back into him to kiss him in thanks, not so subtly pushing your ass back into his hips. A feeling of revelry settled in your chest when you felt him already half hard beneath his pants, his fingers curling tighter around your hip.

Oh so reluctantly, you pulled away, perfect picture of obliviousness as you plopped back down on the armchair you were occupying previously.

Azriel thought he would collapse in on himself when you went to sit back down. You had him so tightly ensnared it was like he was still in the midst of the initial mating frenzy. He briefly wondered if the mind-boggling need for you would ever go away, though part of him knew hoped it never would.

He took a moment to compose himself — if that was even possible when one’s mate was clearly playing a dangerous game of seduction — bracing himself with one arm steady against the bookshelf.

Despite how much Azriel so greatly wanted to shirk his responsibilities to bend you over his desk, he wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. The work day wasn’t quite over, and the plans he was making for you would surely last too long to finish his research afterwards. So he steeled himself and took a deep, steadying breath, willing his blood to fill his head again so he could think with some semblance of clarity.

Though at baseline, he always found it difficult to think rationally when you were around.

While Azriel was trying — and failing — to regain his composure, you were feigning extreme interest in the book you had selected at random: The History and Systems of Fae War Treaties.

If Azriel had been paying any attention to what you were reaching for, he’d have caught on to your ploy, but luckily for you the mere sight of you was enough to render him at least somewhat incapacitated.

You took a peek at him over the back of the chair, triumphant satisfaction crooking your lips into a mischievous smile. Maybe this would be the day he finally cracks, you think to yourself.

But as the sun dipped lower beneath the skyline of Velaris below, and as Azriel stubbornly worked away at his desk, you felt the tiredness of the day settle into your bones, pull you deeper into the plush leather of Azriel’s loveseat. Cassian had run you ragged with training this morning, and Rhys and Amren had your mind working tirelessly as the three of you attempted to draft a peace treaty in a meager four hours.

But you wouldn’t sleep, not yet, not until you had reduced Azriel to a beautiful, orgasmic mess in his chair. Not until the hazel of his eyes were blown dark with desire and pleading as you straddled his hips.

The next hour was a fight to stay awake as the words on the pages in your lap began to blur into obscurity, mind muddling with theories and questions — though the book was an off handed choice, you couldn’t deny that the information was coincidentally incredibly pertinent to the discussion you were having with Rhys and Amren earlier in the day.

The telltale sigh of a day’s work completed pulled your attention away from your book, gaze settling on your mate. His hair was mused in a way that told you he had spent the last however long skating his fingers through it, but as always it fell perfectly across his forehead in defiance of the tiredness creeping up his neck.

Azriel’s eyes met yours and apparently your coy seduction earlier still held his body in a vice, evident in the way he stood and stalked to you. There was a cool, domineering edge to his movements and you knew your plan had worked to a degree, but the determination you had to break him down had leeched out of you the same way the night had stolen the day’s heat.

You hummed in satisfaction as he leaned down to kiss you, the pressure gentle and so, so sweet. A stark contrast to the dark and tempting storm of desire Azriel flooded your senses with down the bond.

Never once breaking the contact of your kiss, he’d wedged a knee between your legs as one hand braced against the arm of the loveseat while the other danced at the hem of your dress, endearingly asking for permission.

Your mouth curved against his and you guided his hand up to your hip, gasping delightedly when his hand tracked further up your waist, bringing the hem of your dress up with it as he slotted your hips more comfortably against his leg.

His lips traced a scalding trail of open mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest that had your hips rolling against him.

“So bold for me,” he said, his hand skating across your unclothed skin while he urged your hips to grind a little harder against his thigh. You gasped, the pressure so wonderfully perfect against your cunt.

Though your initial intention was to get Azriel all hot and bothered, you couldn’t deny that the game you had set yourself up in had the same effect on you; the lingering, almost lazy path his eyes swept over your body every time you shifted across from him left heat singing between your legs, untamed longing for you dancing down the golden thread between you.

“Az…” you rasped, arching your hips up to meet his still clothed body, the top of your dress pushed languidly down to your waist as Azriel played slow music on the skin of your breasts. The loveseat was a cramped fit at best, but Azriel’s surprising flexibility and dexterity made it work despite the general largeness of his wings and frame. He’d made even the smallest corners of the House work for your sexual escapades.

The memories of all the scandalous little happenings you two have been partaking in the past few months flitted across your mind’s eye like an erotic slideshow, and you groaned. Legs tightening around his in desperate search for more friction, more contact, more of him. His name on your lips again was a wanton plea, a sound so wonderfully obscene Azriel almost came in his pants.

“Hmm?” He hummed, closing his lips around your nipple, teeth gently tugging before his tongue was quick to soothe the ache. The way your hips were grinding so shamelessly against him had his head spinning with a swirling mix of lust and love, and he clung to the last shreds of self discipline he had. It was all he could do to not tear both of your clothes off and sink himself deep into your brilliant warmth.

Azriel had always been patient, mastery over his desire was a skill he’d honed meticulously over the past few centuries — though you had a way of quickly unraveling his self control with one flutter of your eyelashes. But he wanted to make this last for you, wanted to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. So he pressed his thigh more firmly between your legs, his own hips slotting against the side of your body.

You gasped at the feel of him, of how hard he was against your hip, and you tried to reach him, tried to get him to release some of the tension you knew coiled in his belly. He groaned deep and breathless when you pressed insistently against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he continued his ministrations on your body.

Azriel’s hands were everywhere, trailing paths around your breasts, up your neck, into your hair, and between your legs the way he no doubt was doing with the maps on his desk earlier.

It was infuriating how close you were already, how swiftly the tables had turned (though you half blamed the sudden onset of your fatigue the day had cursed you with), how with one well placed touch you were on the brink of collapse at Azriel’s mercy yet again.

He was urging your hips faster now, his fingers and lips making quick work of all the places he knew would have you keening. And before you could even register that he was still fully clothed, hard cock still straining against the confines of his pants, you were falling, breathless and dizzy with release.

The night had been far from over. You came twice more in that godsdamned loveseat – once with his fingers buried inside you and another time with his head between your legs – before he whisked you away to your bedroom where you finally, finally felt the delicious stretch of him inside you.

By the time the sun was making its appearance over the horizon once more, you had lost count of how many times Azriel had you begging.

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Though your spicy little rendezvous in his office – and encore in the bedroom – wasn’t quite an exact replica of what played out in the book you had apparently just read, Azriel had thought your coy seduction had its intended effect. He’d been so fucking desperate for you that he couldn’t wait until you were out of his study to have you coming for him.

But, as he skimmed the pages of the chapter you marked, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wouldn’t mind being fully at the mercy of your whims, wouldn’t mind submitting to the pleasure that you so easily coaxed from him. He was already always so eager to please you, so willing to crawl to the ends of the earth for you if you had so much as suggested you wanted him to.

“Azriel?” Nesta’s voice dripped with wicked amusement, effectively pulling him from his erotic reverie. “I never thought I’d see you in this section of the library.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t anticipated that he’d run into Nesta, a severely idiotic oversight on his part considering the House’s library was something akin to her own personal sanctuary. Azriel turned slowly on his heels to face her, mind working in overdrive to come up with a viable excuse for him being there.

“Nesta,” was all he came up with. Pathetic.

Her smirk turned deadly when she realized he was floundering. Arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted ever so slightly upwards, she looked the very portrait of smug amusement; he would expect nothing less of his friend who moonlighted as Lady Death.

Nesta’s eyes dropped to the book he forgot he was holding, and her eyebrows shot up in understanding, “Ah, I just recommended that one to Y/N. She gave it a hefty five stars. Said it was…intriguing.”

Nesta’s sly comments were enough to confirm Azriel’s suspicions that you were taking bedroom inspiration from the arsenal of smutty books the House stocked. And, with the way Nesta was biting her tongue, he could tell that she knew exactly why he was there.

Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.

Before Azriel could open his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t what it looked like – even though they both knew it was exactly what it looked like – Nesta stalked past him, pulling books off the shelf with striking precision. With a stack of five books balanced on one hand, she took the one Azriel was holding and reshelved it.

“These are Y/N’s favorite,” she said, this time with a little bit more softness and understanding as she placed them gingerly in his arms. “I’m sure she’d love if you read them.”

Azriel scanned each cover, a fond smile working to tilt the corners of his lips. You did love these; he had been familiar with these covers long before you were even mated, always keeping a lovingly watchful eye on the things you enjoyed, filing the knowledge away in his mind for later.

“Thanks, Nesta,” he said sincerely, adoration for you filling his chest with warmth as he remembered the excitement lighting your eyes while you read these books, cute flush radiating off your cheeks.

Nesta only nodded, giving his shoulder an encouraging few pats as she stalked off to another aisle, no doubt scouring the shelves for a new read.

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Azriel told himself that he’d only read a few chapters — for research — but he hadn’t realized that he’d spent the better half of his day off lounging on the loveseat in his study.

Despite his previous reservations around the smutty books you’d so lovingly treasured, he found he was enjoying them — and not just for the well written, detailed sex scenes that you were pulling ideas from. He was two-thirds of the way through the second book, in the midst of the big climax, when you snuck up on him.

“It seems you’ve discovered my dirty little secret,” you said coyly, arms coming up behind him to snake around his shoulders.

Azriel jumped at your sudden appearance, inwardly cursing himself for teaching you how to sneak up on someone so effectively. He closed the book swiftly, feeling a flustered blush creep up his neck.

You pouted and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Aw, you were just getting to the best part! Don’t stop reading on my account.”

Azriel groaned but gave in, leaning back into your touch, “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never tease you, my love,” you said mockingly before kissing his cheek. “It is really the best part, though. The paint scene—“

Before you could regale the details of the main characters’ sexual escapades, Azriel took your chin in his fingers and slotted his lips over yours in a silent plea to stop your innocent tormenting. He reveled in the way you kissed him back without pause; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you loved him as eagerly as he did you.

“Dirty little secret, huh?” He quipped, lips brushing yours as a bemused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you made your way around the back of the chair, gesturing for him to uncross his legs so you could settle yourself on his lap.

Your weight was a welcome comfort as he continued prodding you, “Is this why you’ve been so…eager lately?”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, winding your arms around his neck as he scoffed in mock disbelief.

“Give me some credit love, I notice everything when it comes to you.” Came his quick response.

You pursed your lips, half in childish dissatisfaction that your little game was over, “I just wanted to know how to get you to beg for me. I needed ideas.”

Your nonchalance belied the wicked sensuality of your words and he chuckled, wrapping his wings around you both before mapping a scathing trail of kisses up your neck. The pillowy feel of his lips brushing your ear made you shudder, his teeth nibbling playfully at your earlobe as he hummed deep in his chest, “We have a lifetime together, there’s no rush. But since you want it so badly, shall I show you how well I can beg for you?”

Azriel’s offer sent an exhilarating shiver down your spine, and you so desperately wanted to give in, wanted to watch him come undone beneath you as he pleaded with you to touch him. But you shook your head despite yourself, competitive stubbornness the only barrier between you and what you wanted.

“I want to earn it, make you want me so bad you can’t help yourself.”

Your words were a breathy murmur that nearly had Azriel flipping you over right there on the too small lounge chair, but he resisted, prioritizing his assurances that you were the only thing he wanted every second of every day.

“That’s the thing, beloved,” he whispered in your ear, deep voice doused in honey reverberating in your bones as your desire flared so wildly it made you lightheaded. His hand, calloused palms rough against your skin, skated beneath the hem of your dress to grab hold of your hip and move you so you were straddling him.

This was the image you played over and over in your mind. The unbridled, unrestrained look of pleading in his eyes that blew his pupils wide, that had his hips shifting against yours in a display of just how much he wanted you.

“I always want you,” he continued. “I’d beg for you like I am dying of dehydration and you are my oasis. Just ask, and I’ll do exactly as you say.”

You were mesmerized, finger tracing the sharp contours of his jawline before ending at his chin, tilting his gaze up with the same practiced dominance you’d seen him slip into countless times before. You savored the way he shuddered at your touch, pretty lips parting as his chest heaved.

The corner of your mouth quirked, your breath a ghost over his lips, “Show me, then.”