#and now on to nesta week

[thrumugnyr]

For @tamlinweek Day 7 - Free Day

This is loosely based on a post I once saw about Tamlin being distracted from his paperwork and running outside to chase hummingbirds.

[kale-theteaqueen]

And Now She Becomes Death, VI. Rest

---

“You think that mating bond in your chest gives you more right to be in that room than me? Than Elain?” Feyre accused. “You don’t get to claim Nesta just because the Mother wants you to make babies. You have been nothing but cruel to her for months now, what makes you think she even wants to see you?

Cassian reared back, as if he’d been slapped. Feyre was right, of course, but each time he heard it plainly it felt like a blow. Still, the idea of leaving her was… unfathomable.

“She did not tell me to leave,” he gritted out. “I could feel how afraid she was, at the idea of being alone. I promised her I would stay.”

Even now, standing outside her doorway, he felt the heavy pressure to return to her side, to ensure she did not wake without him.

“You are not the only one who can sit with her, Cassian. You do not get to make the decisions here.”

“And you do?” He argued, wings flaring. “You’re the one who always sent me to fetch her, who didn’t want to take no for an answer when she declined your invitations, who constantly complained about her to all of us. Your desire for a happy family did more harm than good, and now you think you’re the one who gets to take care of her?”

“It’s my responsibility.” Feyre snapped. “She is my sister. I already admitted that our tactics were wrong, and you know that. Besides, don’t come for my actions when you didn’t even allow a moment to pass between the two of you before you were at her throat.”

“We all have things to apologize for. But the fact remains that I promised her-”

“Enough.”

---

Tag List: @c-e-d-dreamer @podemechamardek @talkfantasytome @moodymelanist @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @doriansgf @eerievixen @sweet-pea1 @thewayshedreamed @agents-assemble @jsmelodies @aelinchocolatelover @unlikelypersonalknight1 @slipknotvol3 @stylishmuser @lady-winter-sunrise @bri-loves-sunflowers @misswonderflower @acourtofladydeath

[westrangecollectionkoalaposts]

What if....

Neris Week: Day 7 - Free Day | @nerisweek

So, I was kind out of time and did it fast, so shapes be kinda weirder than usual, idk... And the background is definitely bad... Anyway, that is how I pictured a "what if Nesta had a bond with Eris and it snapped while they were dancing on Hewn City"! And also a represetation of the bond itself.

Down here is zoomed pictures of Eris and Nesta, sorry for the worse shapes 😭😭

[elliemarchetti]

Of Handmade Gifts, Soft Wishes and Prophetic Dreams

My entry for @wintercourtweek's day 5 prompt (gifts, wishes and winter dreams)

Part 1

Words: 794

Plot: For your second day of stay at the Ice Palace, we would like to invite all our guests to take part, after a hearty lunch and the custom exchange of gifts, in one of our most beloved traditions, the Lantern Festival on the shores of lake Ylìr. To fully enter into the spirit of the event, we recommend claiming one of our renowned steeds from the stables, where the ostlers will be happy to advise you on the best of your needs and skill level. For those who find riding beneath their rank, we will provide a carriage upon request.

The air was filled with the scent of spices and burning wood, a heady blend of oak, pine and cedar made to cloud their judgment and hide the metallic stench of blood coming from the uncooked game waiting to be roasted. Everyone was drinking, the practice mainly aimed to warm their bodies and souls, but some outsiders didn’t seem to need it, ready to jump at each other’s throats, or in each other’s pants, despite the apparently armless activity they just busied themselves with.

Taking even himself by surprise, once the mass of most eager and hopeful participants had dispersed, Eris had scribbled something on the piece of parchment tied to one of the colourful lanterns, and holding his mother’s arm, who had approached him silently but with a smile speaking volume on her face, he had watched it disappear, headed towards a place where humidity would’ve smeared the ink and erased all traces of his weak heart.

When he had peeled his gaze off the brightly lit firmament, ready to wish his mother goodnight before she could return to her chambers with his father and brothers, Eris had encountered an a pair of intrigued yet icy eyes, whose owner had now joined the other females in their dance under the crackling lanterns in a rare burst of carefreeness, the nine-foot-tall statue of the Mother watching over her with a good-natured gaze, as if enjoying the delight the celebrations brought to her favourite daughter. For the occasion, Nesta had ditched her usual crown braid in favour of an evergreen wreath, an entwine of yew, holly, and mistletoe a noble youngling she had entertained the previous night with tales of glorious battles and moonlit masquerades had gifted her. Despite the festive atmosphere, there were quite a few people peeking furtively, some in apprehension, some in disdain or even fear, at her hair of burnished gold, loose on her naked shoulders and adorned with dozen bells jingling with her every movement. She seemed unbothered, the sound of her laughter lost among the lively rhythm of the percussion and the exuberant notes of the accordion, the prove of its existence painted on her plump lips stained of berry juice. Her velvet dress, whose design belonged to no Court in particular, twirled around her slim ankles every time she was dragged into a pirouette by one of her companions, the young warriors all so different from each other and yet united in reclaiming the space they deserved in a world that didn’t seem to want them on its soil. The youngest, a typical Autumn beauty, moved with a grace unnatural even among that group of excellences, the river nymph blood soaring in her veins in tune with the music as she lifted her freckles arms. Bejewelled golden ivy climbed her fair skin, leaving her barely visible curves intact, lean body hidden beneath a tunic made of a yarn at the same time warm and almost impalpable. She was the portrait of innocence, worthy of a painting posterity would look at with admiration and a hint of envy, a thought even the Shadowsinger, who observed the scene keeping a safe distance from the rest of the guests, seemed to share.

“Curious ensemble, don’t you think?” commented a silken voice on his right, so different from how he remembered it and yet not so dissimilar to his own. Eris didn’t need to turn to know it was precisely him that Lucien was addressing, nor to guess what his goals were, although it wasn’t exactly wise to showcase their rekindled brotherly bond in front of so many people after his abrupt departure from the only Court who agreed to be his ally in Beron’s deposition.

“Not as much as the one you arrived with,” Eris replied, never taking his gaze off the eldest Archeron, whom was about to be approached by a not so determined, yet drunk on the words of encouragement Tamlin had whispered in her ear for the good part of an hour, Elain. His brother’s mate had put on a little weight since the last time he had seen her in Hewn City, and where once he had glimpsed hollow cheeks there was now firm and rosy skin, and her hazel eyes didn’t scan the crowd with fear and a vague disgust oozing on her soft features, but with eagerness to partake in the celebrations. He could only hope that one day it would happen to Nesta too, once her sister's prophetic vision had come true.

“Not the strangest one I’ve been associated with,” retorted Lucien, who in turn was studying the reconciliation taking place in the heart of the party, ready to intervene if things went awry. Judging by the hugs exchanged, it didn’t seem the case.

[lyctoralsaints]

when i make my most sacred and chaotic return and write tiberias calore vii ( i refuse to call his little ass cal bc the name cal calore is ridiculous ) what then

[babisawyer]

not to go on a tangent but I finished all of the acotar books and I don't know what to do with myself!

[wulflynn]

When you feel hopeless, worthless, angry, depressed, like your world is falling apart around you and everything is lost, you find the ACOTAR books. Then you listen to the Dramatized Adaptations constantly over and over just to keep on truckin' on. My headset is on nearly every moment of every day and my fiance makes fun of me for it but, whatevs.

[thestarlightexpress]

Kinktober 2024: Day 2 - Somnophilia - Azriel x Reader

TW: sexual themes including overstimulation and dubcon

word count: 1.48k

NSFW under the cut

The sharp wind and misty rain pelted Azriel’s face as his long flight back from the Continent came to a close. He spent the last week surveilling Koschei’s lake for any useful intel and had unsurprisingly come home with nothing. After 8 straight hours of flying, all he wanted to do was collapse in his fluffy bed and sleep for a whole day. 

He neared the House of Wind, feeling the drowsiness and pull to his bed grow even stronger as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Finally landing, his tense and taut muscles were able to gradually start relaxing. As he slowly wandered down the hallway towards his room, his ears perked up at the sounds floating towards him from a few doors down. Muffled moans and something that suspiciously sounded like a headboard striking the wall. Cassian and Nesta must be at it again.

He slowly opened his door and was dismayed to find an obstacle in between him and his comfy bed - you, laying on your back, starfished right in the middle of his bed. You were dead asleep despite gripping an open book in your hand. Knowing he was set to come back tonight, you had done your best to wait up for him but evidently couldn’t resist the coziness of his bed. 

A soft smile ghosted his lips as his shadows softly shut the door behind him. He pried the book from your hands, setting it on the nightstand before softly kissing your forehead and heading to the restroom. He quickly shed his sweat-soaked leathers before running a quick bath. His sore muscles sang in relief at the warm water. As he lay in the bath, the light and sweet smell of your arousal drifted through the open door. 

His shadows slinked back into the restroom, whispering to him the name of your book. It was one he and Nesta had been reading a few weeks earlier in their secret smutty book club. Knowing exactly what his sweet little mate had been reading had his blood swiftly rushing to his cock. He had intended to just quickly wash off and curl around you as best he could and go to sleep, but he suddenly found himself changing those plans. 

Azriel hurried to dry himself off and slip on his sleep clothes before wandering back into his bedroom. The forceful waves of your arousal nearly knocked him over. You were still in a deep sleep with a blissful smile on your face. The skimpy camisole you were wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination, showing off your perky nipples. Azriel’s gaze raked over your chest and down to your high-waisted shorts that barely covered your ass. He inched closer and closer to you, feeling his now hard cock straining against his sweatpants.

He crawled between your legs, soaking up the smell of your need as you continued dreaming. Azriel slowly gripped your shorts and pulled them down your legs. He was almost on the verge of drooling at the sight of your slick, pink pussy bared in front of him. He trailed up your legs, leaving warm open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Azriel placed a soft peck on the tip of your clit before licking a slow strip up from your entrance. His rough hands reached up to pull your thighs further apart, spreading your cunt for him.

Azriel softly suckled on your clit, sending a new wave of slick sliding down towards your entrance. He shifted down and dove into your pussy, licking up your syrupy arousal. A gentle moan slipped from your mouth as your hips shifted up and chased his mouth. He moved back up and his lips wrapped around your clit while he slipped two fingers inside you. He felt your body shifting above him as he pumped his fingers inside you, stretching you out for him. A small hand landed on his head and laced through his damp hair. 

“Well, this is certainly a way to wake me up.”, your rough, sleep-ridden voice drifted down towards him. Azriel glanced back up at you from between your legs, finding you propped up on your elbows. His free hand grasped your wrist and moved your hand to rest on your stomach. Azriel sent some shadows to weave through your hair and rest around your neck and shoulders. “Go back to sleep, my love. Just let me make you feel good.” He gripped your thigh and dove back into your inviting cunt. Releasing a needy moan, you laid back on the bed and swiftly drifted back to sleep.

Your slick continued to drip between your legs, soaking Azriel’s face and the sheets below you. Even while asleep, his skilled mouth quickly brought you to your first orgasm of the night. Your back arched and your breaths quickened into soft pants as you came in his mouth. The intoxicating taste of your release had his hips bucking up, grinding his swollen cock into the edge of the bed, desperate for a sliver of relief. 

Azriel groaned into your heat as he felt his precum drip down his cock. His fingers inched further inside of you, pressing against the spot that always made you see stars and beg for more. He glanced up at you and grazed his teeth against your sensitive clit when he heard your breath hitch. He promptly brought you to your second and third orgasm until your legs were shaking around his head. Your hand drifted back down to his hair and softly pulled him up from your cunt. Drifting in and out of consciousness, you managed to string together a mumbled plea. “Too much, Az.”, your soft voice lowly murmured.

He rose up and trailed his hands over your body, taking off your camisole in the process. Azriel hovered over you and rested his head on your bare chest. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to get carried away,” You sleepily hummed and cradled his head in your hand. His head drifted up and he nosed into the crook of your neck. “But I think you can cum one more time for me, yeah?” You roughly bit your lip and rapidly nodded against him. You whined at the anticipation of feeling him again. The Mother had certainly given you the horniest male in existence for a mate. His scarred hands gripped your hips in the way he knew you loved as he gently flipped you onto your stomach. Azriel crawled off the bed and stood at the foot of the bed. He outright moaned as he loosened the laces of his pants before pulling them off to release his leaky cock from its confines. He couldn’t hide his smile at the sight of your head resting on top of your arms, already asleep again.

Azriel loved many things about his sleepy girl, particularly how cuddly and pliant you get. But this, this was something you had always talked about doing that Azriel hadn’t been lucky enough to experience. You both loved the idea of him taking you as you slept, letting him use you solely for his pleasure. His cock bobbed in the air as he stared at your supple ass, debating about how he wanted to take you. He crawled on top of you and sat on your thighs a few inches behind your ass. He gripped your cheeks before using one hand to guide the tip of his member through your soaked folds. Azriel angled your hips up towards him before sliding into you and sheathing his cock fully inside of your warm, welcoming heat.

You both groaned at the stretch, Azriel much louder than you. He didn’t even need to give you time to adjust as your body was relaxed enough by your previous slumber. He grasped your waist and pulled his hips back to thrust into you. He had been so pent up over the past week that it didn’t take him much to get close. Getting lost in his own pleasure, he roughly took your tight cunt. Your light moans could barely be heard over his hips slapping into your ass.

Azriel felt his abs straining as he started to approach his release. He shifted his legs further up the bed and caged your torso under his chest. His thrusts started to get harder and erratic as he felt you tighten around them.

Azriel bit down a moan as his hips stilled and he spilled into you, your walls spasming around him as you came for the fourth time. After taking a few minutes to catch his breath, he slowly clambered off the bed and slipped his pants back on before laying down next to you. He gingerly turned you onto your side and pulled you into his chest. Not even five minutes later, he found his chin resting on your shoulder and felt himself pulled into sleep by your comforting warmth.

Kinktober Taglist:

@honethatty12 @sweet-chai-amore @helo1281917 @scarsandallaz @thatacotargirl @a-courtof-azriel @lmadness @riorgail

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part two

summary: after gaining some clarity on your position in the court, azriel takes you to see the city, but by the end of the day, he's left with more questions than he started with.

warnings: brief mentions of depression, sexual abuse and loneliness,

word count: 3.9k

series masterlist

In the three weeks that had passed, that familiar sinking feeling had begun to wedge its way deep into the pit of your stomach. You’d seen Nesta on a handful of occasions during that time. Mostly in passing, once when she dropped off more romance novels to your floor. 

Yes, floor. It seemed she didn’t want you sharing the level with her and Cassian, nor the level that you came to learn Azriel occupied just above you. 

It was suffocating you, the loneliness. The House appeared your only friend, and even that could only do so much to comfort and converse. You’d caught Cassian a few times in the mornings, when you were in the lounge reading by the fire, when he awoke to make breakfast and offered a terse nod just as Azriel did. 

Azriel. 

You hadn’t seen him at all since that night. Perhaps he was on a mission, perhaps not. It didn’t matter either way, he had no reason to see you, to seek you out. You weren’t friends, barely even acquaintances. You were a stranger living in his home. 

You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

But for how long? How long were you to be ignored, shunned as though you had a Godsforsaken plague? No, you needed to stop. You knew that wasn’t the case, no matter the nagging voice in the back of your head. 

Your gaze found your ring finger, the lack of the iron band making your stomach churn. You wondered what he was doing right now…looking for you? Or looking for another unfortunate soul he could force his body and mind upon? 

You shook your head, it wasn’t your problem anymore. And for once, you felt okay with being selfish. With putting yourself above him or a stranger. Though the thought still soured your mind. Hadn’t you been wishing all these years for someone to save you? No innocent soul deserved to endure the horrors you had by his hand. 

Just the thought of that endless pain had you standing abruptly from your position on your bed, wringing your fingers nervously. It was without proper thought that your feet carried you out of your room and down the hall, and you didn’t miss what felt like a gentle kiss of a breeze pushing you closer, encouraging you to go where you needed.

Though where you needed to go, you were unsure. You just needed to see someone, anyone. You couldn’t bear these thoughts any longer, couldn’t bear to feel like a prisoner anymore. 

You stopped dead in your tracks in the kitchen, noting Azriel sitting at the dining table with an apple in his hand. His eyes clocked yours, a brief flicker of surprise in his gaze. He pulled the fruit away from his parted lips. 

“Y/N,” he spoke, and his shadows skittered from his shoulders and slithered across the ground toward you. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

Your nostrils flared and it startled you. For years you’d been overcome with such sadness and heartache that you’d briefly forgotten what it had felt to feel anything else. Anger. That was what you felt now, a boiling rage that rooted in your gut—not at Azriel, not at Rafe or Nesta or anyone—no, you felt this anger at yourself for allowing your life to play the way it had, for allowing yourself to be so unseen and forgotten. 

I hadn’t seen you coming.

And you were so, so sick of it. 

“I’d like to see my cousin.” No please, no thank you, no desperate plea of an apology at the tip of your tongue that you had to shove down. No. You were done with being a ghost. With being nothing. 

Azriel quirked a brow, his shadows now resting on your own shoulders as they soothed your hair. He didn’t worry much about it, they often had a mind of their own around the people they sensed were calm and warm and familiar. 

But you weren’t familiar, and right now you weren’t calm and you weren’t warm. Now, you were angry, bubbling over with a whipping rage. His shadows weren’t with you out of comfort, his shadows were trying to calm you down. 

“Nesta is training with Cassian on the roof, I can get her for you—”

“No, not Nesta,” you cut him off. “Feyre, I want to speak with your High Lady and High Lord.”

Azriel’s heart would not stop racing, would not stop thumping so hard it threatened to tear through his chest. It wasn’t in fear, not at all. It was something entirely different, something so foreign he couldn’t understand, he couldn’t control. 

He didn’t dare take his eyes from you, from the way that previous anger dissipated into your usual aura of worry and grief. You were beautiful, more so in the Fae lands than in the mortal. As if the air in Prythian breathed new life into you, as if you’d always belonged here. 

Azriel remembered what you’d said. How everything felt clearer after stepping through that wall. He had suspicions, very far-fetched and precarious suspicions, but he kept them to himself and his shadows as he watched on. 

That icy rage crumbled to a simmering pot of exhaustion as Feyre and Rhysand strolled into the House of Wind, hand in hand. You hadn’t seen your youngest cousin in years, and motherhood—Faehood…it looked good on her. She was thriving and you could almost feel the love and security the High Lord oozed when he looked at her. 

“Y/N…” the High Lady breathed as she took you in. 

You looked much healthier than when she’d last seen you those few years ago. Your skin had begun to regain its colour, your body beginning to rebuild its strength. Those awful bruises had healed, but you still wore that same frightful look on your face. 

“Fey…” You struggled to find the words to say to her, where to start. You wanted nothing more than to hold her, to feel another’s embrace but you didn’t approach. You weren’t accustomed to how things worked here, that even though she was your cousin, she was also High Lady. 

Would it be improper to embrace her? Would Rhysand and Azriel pull you off her? See you as a threat for wanting to feel your cousin's familiar touch and love?

As though she’d read your thoughts, Feyre closed the distance between you both and took you into her arms. Your resolve began to crumble, all of those feelings of loneliness creeping up on you in full force.

You willed the tears back as much as you could, but Feyre held you close, cooing to you that it was alright, that you were safe and she was so glad to have you there. 

It took much of your strength to finally pull away and cast your eyes to her mate, to the High Lord. Rhysand watched with a polite smile, though there was a look in his eyes as he gazed at you…a look that suggested he understood. 

Understood everything that you had endured, every feeling and thought as if he’d also once experienced them, too. 

“I um…I wanted to thank you both for allowing Nesta to bring me here.”

Rhysand chuckled at that, soft and sultry. 

“Nobody allows Nesta to do anything. She does what she wants and we all have to accept it whether we like it or not.”

He spoke in a humorous tone, as if the words hadn’t struck a cord so deep in your stomach that it made you nauseous. 

Azriel tensed beside him, and Rhysand quickly caught on to just how poorly he worded himself. “We are delighted to have you here, Y/N. But I’m incredibly sorry for the circumstances it took to get you out.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes darting between him and Feyre. 

“I appreciate you allowing me a room at the House of Wind, but I don’t wish to overstay my welcome.”

A collective frown plastered on their faces, but you continued. “I don’t know very much about these lands, but I’m happy and willing to work for my keep and find my own place of residence.”

Feyre flinched as though you’d struck her. “What’s wrong? You don’t like the House?”

Your lips parted and eyes widened, worried you’d now offended her. “No! No, the House is wonderful, truly,” you reassured her. “I just don’t want to be a burden, you’ve all done so much for me, I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable having a stranger in their home.”

Your eyes briefly met Azriel’s hazel ones, something akin to sorrow and regret in those golden orbs. Rhysand then took a tentative step closer, a deep-set frown of worry on his brows. 

“Y/N, if you wish for your own residence, we will fund that for you. But you are no stranger. You are family, and family will always have a home here. If the House of Wind is too much, we have the townhouse you are welcome to, or we can find something else that’s more suited to you.”

There was no point in hiding the silver that lined your eyes, not when you knew the three of them could smell and sense your every emotion. Perhaps that was why a tear fell down Feyre’s rosy cheeks—perhaps she could feel your agony, your appreciation.

Perhaps they all could feel that you were so unused to this kindness, to being wanted. 

Rhysand reached for your hand then, his skin warm against yours and your eyes fluttered closed. Nothing about the action was intimate, but you were beginning to realise just how touch starved you were, and Rhys could feel that. 

“Nesta thought you might want some space and time to adjust.” He admitted quietly, his voice soothing as it coaxed you to open your eyes. A violet gaze full of care and promise. Promise of love and acceptance. 

Then, his voice grew lighter, full of teasing humour. “She also threatened to skin us alive if we allowed you to be alone in the presence of a male. We never intended to make you feel alone.” 

… all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. How foolish you had been to think you were a burden, that they hadn’t wanted you there. A watery chuckle left your lips as you opened your eyes and met Azriel’s gaze again. Sorrow. Guilt. That was why. 

You looked back to Rhysand just as something gentle stroked at your mind. It took you by surprise but his eyes never left yours, as though he was coaxing you to let him in, to let him feel your pain, to let him understand better. 

It scared you, the idea of anyone seeing your rawest thoughts and emotions. But his eyes, those violet eyes so familiar and warm in a way you could never begin to understand. So you let him in, let him feel everything you tried so hard to keep hidden away and locked up, and it caught the breath from his lungs, rendering him speechless. 

He swallowed thickly, eyes fluttering closed. And in a heartbeat, that pain and agony mellowed and faded until you felt nothing at all except pure relief. You didn’t know how he did it, how he forged his way through the dark forest of your mind and guided you through the other end.

There were no words to describe it. Nothing except at the end of that dark forest lay an open field of fresh soil and grass and trees and sunshine. A fresh start in mind and spirit, a place for you to plant new seeds. A place to hope. 

As quickly as he entered, he retreated. And he took that darkness with him—as much as he could. 

“I understand the pain you have endured in your life. For fifty years, I experienced something very similar. But that pain does not define you. The mind is a powerful thing, Y/N. As long as you believe in hope, you will always find it.”

He released your hand then, stepping back to Feyre’s side. 

“Tonight, we will have a family dinner at the House of Wind so you can meet the others. The House will always be a home to you, whether you chose to stay or find your own residence. But you needn’t do anything alone anymore. And if you’d like to work, we can find something for you, but for now…enjoy your freedom.”

A gentle tapping at your bedroom door broke your attention from your book. You blinked, waiting to see if you'd heard right, when a lone shadow slinked under your door as if to silently let you know who was on the other side. 

Placing your book to the side, you padded to the door and slowly opened it. Azriel stood a respectable distance away, allowing you space to breathe and he offered a gentle smile in greeting. 

“I was about to head into the city for some supplies…I was wondering if you’d like to join me. I’d have to fly you, of course, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Your heart thundered in your chest. Not at the aspect of being alone with him, but at the thought of finally exploring the city you watched from your balcony every night. 

You loosed a breath. “Am I allowed?” 

He frowned, a shadow reaching for your fingers in a way of reassurance. “Of course. Rhys meant what he said. You’re free to go anywhere you wish.”

You inhaled somewhat shakily, and found yourself nodding your head. 

Azriel took a moment then to take in your appearance. No doubt clothes that Nesta had sorted for you—a pair of simple black leggings and a thick grey knitted sweater. 

You noticed his eyes racking over your outfit and a warmth found its way to your cheeks. “Should I change?” 

His eyes met yours and he shook his head, his smile growing just slightly. “No, not unless you want to.” You nodded just as he added, “I think you look lovely.” 

A compliment. Gods when was the last time you’d received a compliment? There was no hiding the heat that painted your cheeks and neck, no hiding the way you averted his gaze and rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet. 

Ah, shoes. You needed shoes. 

“Just let me find something to put on my feet.”

You turned and left the door open, allowing Azriel a view of your bare room. He noted the lack of…well anything. Nothing on your walls, no nick-nacks or trinkets. Nothing but a satchel on your dresser and three books on the window seat. 

A moment now to compose himself, to regain his bearings. He didn't have to keep his distance anymore, didn't have to hide his growing intrigue and infatuation with you.

Infatuation. As if he were nothing more than a lap dog. Rhys had warned him as much—to not be how he had in the past. And it was easy this time to reassure his brother that it wasn't like that.

It wasn't a hungry desire that consumed him, no. It was something deeper than that, something inexplicably and irrevocably crippling.

But he had promised himself to be mindful of your past, your current state. He wanted to get to know you, an dire need and desire for you to get to know him, too.

His shadows threatened to follow but Azriel reigned them in, scolding silently that it was rude to enter uninvited. He and his tendrils of darkness waited at the threshold of your room, watching as you approached once more with a pair of flats on your feet. 

It was then that Azriel could sense your excitement. And that unfamiliar feeling found its way in his chest and stomach and soul again. 

You had never seen anything like Velaris before in your life. It was just as beautiful in the day as it was at night from the view of your bedroom. Azriel landed softly, mindful of you the entire flight down and as your feet hit the cobblestone path, you took a deep breath. 

The streets were wide, rows of shops and vendors and restaurants everywhere you looked. Bustling with life, fae of all varieties walked the streets of their home. Some blue, some pink, some green. 

It took you a few moments to take it all in—so overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of what you’d been missing in these twenty-six years of your life. Your hand was still wrapped around Azriel’s bicep as he tucked his wings in and began to guide you through the city streets. 

Too caught up in your surroundings, you missed the looks of passersby that lingered a little too long. The citizens of Velaris were not used to their Shadowsinger escorting a female so intimately through the city. Much less a mortal female.

But no one seemed to balk at that, no one appeared to have a problem with your presence. 

Azriel walked you through the streets, pointing out different places that he and the rest of the Inner Circle liked to frequent most. You were in awe, completely dumbfounded by the sheer beauty of it all. 

And when he guided you toward a merchant's cart full of crystals and rocks and stones, your excitement seemed to grow tenfold. 

“You like crystals?” Azriel asked, noticing the way your feet hurried a little faster to view the vendor. 

A brief smile coated your lips as your eyes trailed the pieces on display.

“My mother used to collect them. Secretly, of course—they were forbidden in the mortal lands, claimed to be used by the Fae and other…creatures. She said they harnessed healing properties. They were all I had left of her.”

It was the most Azriel had heard you speak at once, and he was not about to let you dwell on that for a single moment. He wanted to hear more. 

“Did you bring them with you?”

Your smile faded, fingers reaching out to trace over an uncut rose quartz. “No. After Rafe and I wed, he found them and he threw them into the river.”

You didn’t look at Azriel as you spoke, didn’t even know why you admitted such an agonizing memory outloud, but he didn’t press further. Though you were sure you could’ve heard a shadow of his hiss in disdain.

“This one is tigers eye.” You pointed to the smooth stone no larger than a silver coin. “My mother called it the Stone of Courage…and this one is black tourmaline, the Stone of Protection.”

Azriel watched you closely, watched your shoulders relax at the memory of your late mother. He scooped them into a scarred hand, nodding for the merchant’s attention and they were wrapped in parchment and handed over to you.

You blubbered, looking between the merchant and Azriel, to tell them both that you were simply admiring, that you had no money. But Azriel nodded a thanks and with a hand to the small of your back, he guided you further into the city.

“If you see something you like, put it on the House’s account and it will be taken care of. Rhys has more money than sense, he’d be offended if you didn’t spend it.”

The thought of spending the High Lord’s money was not one that sat well with you. Despite the kindness he’d shown earlier, the promise of you not being a burden…you didn’t want to take advantage anymore than you already had. 

You didn’t say anything, though. Not when you had a feeling Azriel would only try to convince you otherwise. 

You walked for another thirty minutes, your hand still around his arm but he didn’t protest, didn’t allow you to be separated from him as you walked through a busier crowd. 

And then you saw it. That beautiful winding river that sparkled like the deepest sapphire. It flowed through the city, loitered with ships and boats to import and export all sorts of goods. 

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Breathless. You were utterly awestruck. Yet Azriel couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from you. In his 500 years of life, he’d seen some incredibly gorgeous females, yet none as exquisite as you. 

There was nothing mortal about your beauty, about your aura. And the longer he was spending in your presence, the more he felt himself sinking under. 

And watching you now, so relaxed and at peace… 

He shouldn’t be feeling this. Not again. Not for you. And yet despite that, he found himself saying, “You haven’t even seen the Rainbow yet.”

You looked at him then, eyes glistening and cheeks warm. 

“What’s the Rainbow?”

Azriel smiled, wide and untamed and your heart stopped. “It’s what Velaris is known for. There’s a hundred galleries, supply stores, sculpture gardens…and anything in between.”

He felt like he was going to die. His heart would not stop pounding, his shadows would not stop skittering. The smile on your face grew, your eyes wild and alive. That unfamiliar feeling—he knew what that was now. 

Excitement. And not yours this time, but his own. Something he hadn’t felt since Rhys and Cassian taught him to fly as a young boy. 

“I’ll take you,” he found himself saying. “Whenever you want to go, I’ll take you.”

You looked back at the river then, hope in your eyes once more. For the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged. You could see yourself happy here, living and not just surviving. 

And Azriel, oh, Azriel wanted to watch every moment of your happiness. Because despite the horrors you’d been subjected to, despite the things Rhysand saw in your memories, the thoughts in your mind…you still held hope. 

You still longed to live another day. 

So he didn’t follow as your feet carried you across the river bank, didn’t say a word as you sat on the grass and let yourself feel and breathe and water that fresh field in your mind. 

He watched from afar, allowing you this moment. 

And as you stood and raised your hands from the soil and sauntered toward the rivers clearing, Azriel’s shadows began to quiver in that now recognisable way his chest had seized throughout the day, whispering to him.

A lonesome patch of brown and green tulips lay in your wake, as though you’d breathed life into the earth with nothing more than your mind and touch. 

He balked and the shadows whispered again.

So that night, after dinner with the Inner Circle, where you laughed and smiled and ate…Azriel found himself travelling across Velaris at a lightning speed toward the wall at the border of the Spring Court and mortal lands. 

And there, where the remnants of that creature barely remained, laid another solitude patch of tulips—brown and green. 

a/n: hehe, you're truly not prepared for what i have planned for this series hahahaha but i would love to hear your guys' thoughts and theories about where you think this series might be going!!

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

tag list: @anna-reader-blog @bubybubsters @honethatty12 @angiieguevara @honk4emoboyz @e1jeyy @celestialgilb @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @judig92 @moonfawnx @historygeekqueen @idkitsem @horneybeach1 @apenasandorinha @thaynarajejheje @popcornlauncher @mrsjna @fuckingsimp4azriel @kk191327 @babypeapoddd @bluebries81 @secretlyhers @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mixheleee @be-your-coffee-pot 

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT III

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: sorry for such a long break!! pls let me know what u think and again if you’d like to be added to the tag list send me a message or ask as I rarely check my notifs and go back to them. also sorry abt the cliffhanger uhmmmm also unedited ok bye

“You look like crap.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Mor scrunching up her face as she peers at you from her seat across your own at the dining table. It takes a second for her words to register and you throw a belated scowl her way.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, sitting up to continue swirling your spoon around your bowl of barely eaten oatmeal. Your appetite seems to have vanished over the past week, but you try and force a spoonful down your throat, nearly gagging.

Mor narrows her eyes at you and her lips press into a thin line of concern. “No, you seriously look like crap. You’re not eating lately and you were literally asleep at the table when I got here.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say, defensively. “I was resting my eyes.”

“You sound like Cassian after a three hour afternoon nap.”

“I’m just having a little trouble sleeping.” You set your spoon down and push the offending bowl away from you before slumping in your seat. You brush off her skeptical look with a wave of your hand. “I’m always like this after absorbing Fae magic.”

And over the last few days you’ve been absorbing a lot. All in an attempt to find out as much as you could about the Fae rebel group that had been attacking the borders of multiple Courts, in order to weaken them and make a point against you.

Well, you and your sisters. Not all of Prythian was accepting of Feyre for how she was Made, and even less so of you and Nesta and Elain. Instead, they viewed you as unnatural mutations and the whispers had only become worse after the War. It seemed that the lack of conflict looming over Prythian was unacceptable in their eyes.

With the help of your powers and Azriel’s shadows, you were closer than ever to finding them. Truthfully, the idea that there were Fae out there who hated you didn’t bother you so much in the sense of feeling like outcasts, but you couldn’t lie. They were starting to be a giant pain in your ass.

“You’re never like this,” Mor scoffs, gesturing to the bags under your eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks. As her voice raises, the pounding of your head gets more intense and you attempt to hold back a grimace. “Why is it affecting you so much this time?”

“It’s the type of magic I’m absorbing,” you practically whine, abandoning all pretences of being okay and allowing your shoulders to drop. “It’s so angry and harsh and impure, Mor! It’s literally making me sick because I have nowhere else to redirect it.”

At that moment Rhysand and Feyre walk in to join you at the table.

Rhysand, having overheard you, chimes in as he reaches for a plate of fruit. “Good news, our little Siphon,” he nudges you lightly, the nickname making you scrunch your nose up in mock annoyance. “We have enough information now to move forward using Az and Cass and resources from other Courts. The only thing we need you to do now is rest.”

Rhysand’s upbeat tone brings a weak smile to your face. You know that he’s being flippant to make you feel better, like he always does when you’re stressed or unwell and you’re nothing but appreciative as he whistles under his breath, nonchalantly piling some fruit onto a plate for you.

“You should have been resting days ago,” Feyre eyes you from beside Rhys with furrowed brows, taking in your tired form. “We told you yesterday would be too much.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll be fine for the meeting in Summer.”

Mor snorts and looks up at you, amused. When you raise an eyebrow, her smile drops into an incredulous expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I need to be there to discuss what I siphoned from that knife we found at the border of Dawn,” you say, holding up a hand and rushing out the rest of your words when Feyre opens her mouth to speak. “And Rhys promised me I would be there since it’ll be all the High Lords, Court informants and even soldiers. I couldn’t possibly not go.”

Feyre sighs, sensing that you’re not going to back down. She nods slowly, pointing at your plate. “Finish all of your breakfast and your lunch later on and then you can go.”

You let out a breath, feeling nauseous when Rhys slides your plate closer to you and simply shrugs when you glare at him. Traitor, you speak to him in your mind. He suddenly becomes very interested in a strawberry.

“Watch me,” you say confidently, waving your fork at Feyre who rolls her eyes at you and goes back to her own breakfast.

Summer court is your least favourite court at the best of times, though you’d never admit that to sweet and kind Tarquin, who’s arguably one of your favourite High Lords.

The beautiful, shimmering lagoons aren’t of interest to you as large bodies of water have always unsettled you. The warm breeze that everyone welcomes always reminds you of the times you had to suffer through sweltering heat when foraging for food with Feyre in your adolescence. You’ve always preferred a colder climate and appreciated a more muted daylight.

Considering your current health, the ripples in the water make you dizzy and the light salty breeze nearly brings your breakfast and lunch up.

You’re thankful for the sheer, thin material of the sage coloured dress that Nuala and Cerridwen chose for you because you suddenly feel a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Are we done sightseeing?” you ask weakly, desperate to be inside already.

Elain turns to you and winces. “You don’t look too good….”

“Aw, thank you, Elain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she tuts, coming over to fan your face with her hands. You swat them away, sputtering and try to catch Rhysand’s attention to move things along. He reluctantly agrees and gestures everyone to move along, too used to your aversion to Summer.

As you all enter the palace made of gleaming marble, you hang further back to avoid the watchful eyes of Feyre who seems to be waiting to send you right back home to rest.

The palace is beautiful and you push down your nausea to look around and take in the tall arched windows. The jewelled embellishments adorning the frames trail higher and higher and you crane your neck to see them.

This turns out to be a mistake when your vision starts to blur and another wave of nausea causes your steps to falter, the world tilting sharply.

A firm hand grips your elbow in an all too familiar fashion, steadying you before you’re sent flying to the ground. Another hand settles around your waist where the cutout of your dress exposes your now damp skin, glittering with sweat.

You look up and find Eris’ amber eyes locked onto your own.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his voice sharp with irritation, yet his hands remain steady in their position, holding you up. It’s the first word he’s uttered to you since your encounter a couple of weeks ago in the Spring Court where he’d left on frosty terms. You had seen him twice since then, but it was in the middle of meetings and siphoning sessions and he had barely spared you a single glance.

Your lips part but your senses are too overwhelmed to think of a response before he carries on, lightly shaking his head at you. “You overexert yourself all week and then travel here? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, pulling away from him, but his grip only tightens. You can’t help glancing around and noticing that the growing crowd of all the Court officials has separated you from the Inner Circle. You huff out a breath as you register his words. You knew Rhysand had to communicate with the other High Lords with updates, but you didn’t know that included your physical state. “Gods, High Lords are such gossips…”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scowling like you’ve dreadfully inconvenienced him by nearly collapsing. His gaze flickers over the pallor of your skin and the way you’ve started to shiver slightly. “You drained yourself dry this week. And for what? To impress Rhysand? To prove something to him?”

“Let go of me, Eris,” you attempt to snap at him, but even you can hear the lack of strength in your voice. His eyes soften slightly when you say his name without your usual bite. “I can’t have this same conversation with you when I’m like this.”

“You think I want to be the one always catching you from falling on your face? Trust me when I say I have things I would rather be doing,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

You grit your teeth at the reminder and heat flares in your cheeks, whether it’s from embarrassment, anger or the climate of Summer, you don’t know.

Before you can retort, Eris sighs and straightens you up, still not fully letting you go. Releasing the hand around your waist, he loops your arm in his own and makes you lean on him for support. To your utter surprise, he doesn’t say anything as he starts walking towards the meeting room where everyone else files in. Despite your frustration, you’re grateful for his strength.

The moment of blissful silence doesn’t last too long, however. As he begins to lead you to where your family is stood and clearly looking around frantically for you, Eris leans in to whisper in your ear. “You need to sit down at the table,” he orders quietly, High Lord behaviour on full display.

You’re about to argue that no one else is going to be sat and he immediately catches this, cutting you off. “Don’t be stubborn for once in your life,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear, making you shiver more than you already were. “Please?”

You quickly turn your head to meet his, shocked at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t realise how close this would bring your own face to his and words leave you. Thankfully, you’ve reached your family as you hear Cassian’s loud voice and it snaps you out of your little bubble.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “We were about to send a search and rescue team, thinking you’d finally collapsed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Eris asks, coldly.

Cassian merely rolls his eyes at Eris’ attitude and gestures at Azriel.

Feyre comes forward to take your other arm in hers and explains. “Azriel’s shadows informed us that you were with her, Eris.” She smiles warmly and sincerely at him and Rhysand nods at him in recognition of his actions. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Eris shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet. I foresee many falls in her near future that I’m sure I won’t be present for.”

Feyre’s mouth twitches, but she quickly smoothes her face into an expressionless one when you frown at her and she busies herself with disentangling you from Eris.

He takes a step back, dark and fiery hair catching the sunlight through the tall windows and glances at you once more, not breaking eye contact, yet his words are directed towards Feyre. “Just make sure she sits down. The Night Court doesn’t need a martyr,” he says drily, before walking away.

Your mouth goes dry at the double meaning in his words, but you can’t shake off the shock at seeing genuine concern in his eyes. You must have looked practically near death, but you appreciated it all the same and you don’t even realise your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away until Feyre sits you down next to Nesta.

Your older sister raises an eyebrow at you, always so intuitive and you swat weakly at her to look away from you. Cassian’s eyes flit back and forth between you two, confused.

Before he can say anything, the meeting commences and you feel a shift in the energy of the room, full to the brim of Court officials, emissaries, a few warriors and of course, the High Lords around the table.

Your turn to speak comes fairly quickly since the most information regarding the Rebels is from you and Azriel. As per Rhysand’s instructions, you don’t go into any details regarding your siphoning powers, instead just sharing the information you gained due to them. You try to ignore the way people are staring at your weak form, but you continue to speak with all the strength you can muster. Evidently, you’re doing a convincing job as people start to nod, satisfied and scribble things down.

When Azriel’s turn arrives, you zone out a little, already having heard everything a few times over. Your ears only perk up when everyone is discussing plans of action against the Rebels and a question is asked in your general direction.

“Who are we thinking is to be at the front lines of this hypothetical mission?” The question comes from one of the Spring Court advisors, Vaelith, an older Fae with silver hair gathered in one long braid down his back.

His gaze lingers on you for only a split second before moving onto Rhysand and you feel compelled to answer. “Myself and Azriel,” you blurt out, before you can think twice. “And others of course, but the two of us are the most familiar with-”

“We’re all aware of the Shadowsinger’s abilities,” Vaelith interrupts you, holding up a hand to stop you from talking. You hold back a scowl. “What makes you suitable to lead such a mission aside from your… familiarity with a selection of items left behind by these Rebels?”

“I’m more than able to-” you cut yourself off and swallow, gaining yourself a second to think of a way to defend yourself without giving away your powers, as per your High Lord’s request.

Careful, Y/N

Rhysand’s voice sounds clear as day in your head and you try not to wince at the volume considering the silence of the rest of the room. The other High Lords knew of your powers, but Rhysand had requested they keep it to themselves, even from their own Court officials. Whether or not Rhysand had used his Daemati abilities to ensure this, you didn’t want to know.

“I’m more than able to assist in a plan of action,” you continue firmly, voice hardening. “I’m not sure if you remember a certain War we just had, but you may wish to remind yourself who was at the front lines of that.”

A few laughs break the tense silence and some people start muttering, slowly raising the volume of the room. You almost don’t hear Vaelith’s next words. “You haven’t really answered my question.”

“Let’s use our senses, Vaelith,” a voice rings out from further down the table and you’re startled to realise that Eris is speaking up. The room finally quietens down and you sit up impossibly straight, surprised that Eris is about to defend you.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He only spares you a fleeting glance, but even from your seat you could see it’s full of amusement and mocking. The thing that surprises you is that the mocking is directed at you. “Look at her. Are you really questioning the abilities of a female who barely has the strength to sit up in her seat, let alone fight?”

Your stomach drops, a ball of humiliation unfurling in your chest as he continues to speak.

“I’d like to believe Rhysand has more sense than to send someone on the frontlines who would just be doing the rebels a favour,” Eris drawls, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, still avoiding your gaze.

Rhysand nods. “I can assure you I’ll only be sending my strongest soldiers, Vaelith,” he smirks, faintly, as though the implication he’d do anything to suggest otherwise is laughable. “Now may we discuss matters of actual importance? Tarquin, what have your soldiers been preparing?”

The tension dissolves almost immediately, but you’re still shellshocked, shaking with anger rather than weakness now. It’s as though you’ve been pumped with a burst of adrenaline and it doesn’t seem to be dampening.

After the conversation has shifted to a completely different subject, you shift from your seat as discretly as possible and mutter to Nesta that you need some air before standing up.

You look at the High Lord of Autumn before you walk away, but it only infuriates you more. Eris doesn’t look anywhere near you, but his jaw is clenched all the same, as though he can feel you glaring at him.

Mor catches your arm as you’re walking out and hisses in your ear. “You’re still not well,” she turns her body fully towards you. “Wait for me to come with you.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head and clenching your fists to keep them from trembling as you speak through gritted teeth. “I feel suddenly energised. I’ll only be outside.”

Mor gives you a once over and is clearly satisfied with the fact that you’re unlikely to collapse again as she nods and releases your arm, allowing you to rush through the crowd of people and push through the guards.

You walk briskly away from the doors of the meeting room and further down the empty hallway until you’re satisfied that no one will hear your heavy breathing.

You lean against a pillar, exhaling in and out to control your anger and keep the tears at bay. Gods, you feel so stupid. Of course, Eris is incapable of being a decent male to anyone, let alone to you. Damn him and his cruel smirk and damn Rhysand too for allowing it to happen.

Brushing away the tears that have managed to fall, you curse yourself for not just pushing him away and allowing yourself to collapse on the hard marble flooring. It was giving you whiplash the way he could be so full of concern one second and practically call you useless in front of a room full of officials the next.

The longer you stand against the marble pillar, the weaker you begin to feel and that burst of adrenaline you previously felt is no longer present. The anger that fuelled you mere seconds ago is now winding you and a rising sense of panic begins to consume you.

You decide to turn around to walk back so you’re closer to the doors of the meeting room in case you embarrassingly do collapse.

However, the second you take a step, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before strong arms clamp around you from behind and a cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You can’t even scream as the scent of something strong and chemical floods your senses, making your vision blur.

You thrash around in an attempt to use the little strength you have left to escape, but the arms only grip you harder and the world begins to spin. The last thing you feel is the cool marble floor as your knees give out and no one bothers to catch you as you hit the ground, darkness swallowing you whole.

tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant @deepestmentalityperson @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl @goldenmagnolias @whydohumansss @fandomtrash465 @mrsbarnes32557038 @aaprilshowers @scarsandallaz @-im-fantastic- @cat-or-kitten @annamariereads16 @adelina-127 @onlymexsarah @puddlesplasher17 @eyes-capone @hermaeuswhora

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Insufficient | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After a few months of dating, your relationship begins to crack, and the truth behind Azriel’s odd behavior comes out.

Word Count: ~ 1.8k

Warnings: ANGST, so much angst, sort of unrequited feelings, breakup, mentions of sex + torture and murder, Nesta being an absolute queen

A/N: enjoy some delicious azzy angst😋 lmk what you think I should do for the next part, like should they get back together, or reader finds a new mans while az grovels??

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

It had been a warm, sunny day when you’d first met him.

The bakery had been going steadily as ever in Velaris, your family-owned shop hard at work to make the citizen's pastries and your famous sourdough bread. Generations of the family had owned it beforehand, and you were still helping out, you had been working the front that day.

Azriel had walked in, asking for some sort of treat that his High Lady was craving. His description of it hadn’t been the best, leading to almost thirty minutes of you showing him different sweet treats and pastries until he finally found what he wanted, and ordered a dozen of them.

That had been the beginning of your situationship, where he’d come to the shop asking for various things once every now and then, only to subtly get closer to you and even slightly flirt.

Eventually, he asked you out to dinner, and after a few more, you two began dating, and he admitted that he felt a little spark when he first saw you. Looking back, you wondered if that was the only reason he even pursued you in the first place, not for your personality, or even your looks, but just because of that spark.

The first few weeks had been lovely, him being thoughtful and caring to you in the little acts. Such as the way he made coffee for you just how you liked it in the mornings, how he began to put things lower on shelves so you could reach them, how he would talk quietly when you had migraines, or be patient when you were in a mood. The best example probably being the first time you had your period in front of him.

He hadn’t acted disgusted by it, instead, he’d gently cared for you, helping you through it, buying you chocolate and all the foods and snacks you were craving, getting heating pads, making sure you were alright for the entire insufferable week.

However, after that, the honeymoon period must’ve worn off, because he seemed constantly tense or stressed after that. His face remained like stone, not budging or cracking, even for you. The softening of his eyes that had happened before it was replaced by something strained as if he was waiting impatiently for something.

Even in bed, he wouldn’t look at you, remained quiet as a mouse, the only sign that he was enjoying himself being a large exhale as he buried his face in your neck or turned away. That was another problem, he knew how to fuck, he knew how to do that very well, but he didn’t know how to make love. Any time you tried to teach him, he just didn’t accept it, simply giving an unsatisfactory hum in response and continuing what he was doing.

He’d come home from missions, drenched in sweat and sometimes even blood, and not say anything even when you cleaned him off and led him to bed, giving you a cold shoulder. You fully understood that he had a bloody past and history, but you at least expected him to open up a little bit to you. Without any emotional transparency, it wasn’t really a relationship, was it?

His family was nice, though. You liked them, especially Nesta, since she seemed not to put up with everyone else’s bullshit. She was the only one you opened up to about your issues with Azriel, and how you were thinking of breaking things off or taking a break.

“He’s a hard one, but it sounds like he’s being an ass. If it were me, I wouldn’t put up with that.”

She said while you both sat in the library, neither of you noticing the small shadows lurking near the books. You sighed, nodding slowly.

“I know, it’s just…I feel like he’s waiting for something else, like just me isn’t enough.”

You said with a frown, and Nesta gave a little hum of acknowledgment.

“Just give it a week or two, and if you’re still unhappy, I’d leave.”

She said with a shrug, and not long after the both of you went your separate ways. You followed Nesta’s advice, giving the relationship a week or two, and it remained stressed and tense. However, when you finally managed to get into Azriel’s office during the day, about to break things off, he spoke first.

“Let me guess, your testing weeks weren’t satisfactory?”

He asked in a sharp tone, eyes narrowed on you with a piercing gaze. You took a sharp breath in, glaring at him despite the embarrassment that tried to take over.

“You were spying on me.”

You said, trying to keep your tone even despite how it wavered slightly. He stood then, towering over you from his superior height.

“I don’t like when people talk about me behind my back, let alone my partner.”

He said, the words clipped and full of anger simmering under the surface. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. You’d never been afraid of him, not really, but at this moment you didn’t exactly want to be close to him. His keen eyes noticed, and something like hurt and anger flashed in them.

“Don’t act like I’m some terrible person for having a girl talk because you’ve been acting weird. I can’t believe you spied on me.”

He huffed, taking another step closer, the shadows swirling and writhing, looking more agitated than ever. You took another step back, only to run straight into a wall that was now behind you. He continued stalking closer until your heart was beating faster and faster until he leaned down so you were eye-to-eye.

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for. I’m not gentle or loving, I am a spymaster, I torture and kill people for my work, and have for centuries. I won’t be forced to change just to fit what you think I should be, or what you want in a relationship.”

He hissed, his words now full of anger and frustration. You leaned back, trying to keep away.

“That’s your problem. You don’t know how to separate your work life from your personal life, and you’re taking it out on me. You can be gentle and loving, I’ve seen it before, but I’m not what you want. You’ve been acting like I need to be something more for you when I’m not. I don’t know what you want, but your inability to communicate and be transparent isn’t my problem.”

You said back, tears now welling up as you tried to push him away. He didn’t back up, only moving closer and pushing you into the wall. His temper was building, and you could tell. It was only a matter of time until he would….

“A mate! I wanted a mate!”

Snap.

The silence stretched on and on for what seemed like hours after he said that, yelling it in your face. You’d never heard him raise his voice before. You gaped at the sight of him unwinding and shattering right in front of you as he rambled on.

“It’s not fair, Rhys gets Feyre, Cassian gets Nesta, Lucien gets Elain even if she doesn’t want him, and who do I get? No one.”

He said in an almost panicked tone, rambling on and on. He pushed off the wall, pacing around in his office, hands fidgeting.

“I thought—when I felt that spark when I went in your shop, that it might be you, but you weren’t enough. You aren’t my mate, because it would’ve snapped by now, I would’ve felt it, but I didn’t. You aren’t enough for me, and you never will be.”

He said, finally sighing at the end. He wouldn’t even look at you, eyes unfocused and only looking randomly around the room, anywhere but towards you. You swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that welled up because of his words. You weren’t enough. You never would be.

He looked like he felt a bit bad for half a second before his expression hardened again into that unflinching steel you’d grown to hate. He finally looked at you again, no hint of empathy or guilt now in his gaze for leading you on, or practically torturing you these past months.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally choked words out.

“Oh,” You murmured, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Okay.”

You whispered, managing to push off the wall to walk to the door, opening it and walking down the hall, to the room you two had shared, and you began packing your belongings. Picture frames of your family, your clothes, little trinkets, toiletries, you left no trace of you behind as you packed it in a large duffel bag in the closet.

You walked to the front door of the House, open the door, and walk out, the 10,000 steps down looming in front of you. Azriel didn’t offer to fly you down, and it was only when you turned to look back at him, his face stone cold, that you felt it.

The snap.

A shifting warmth and coldness all at once.

And a mating bond.

His face fell in what looked like pure devastation and realization, hazel eyes wide and lips parted. It might’ve been the most emotion you’d seen him show in weeks. He began to walk out, trying to go after you as you began taking the steps, but a large flap and wave of wind stopped him.

Cassian’s large, hulking form stopped him, shaking his head grimly as he walked towards you, where you were still going down the steps, and he laid a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll fly you.”

He said simply, and you nodded with a sniffle as he picked you up, his wings carried him into the air as he soared up, only to land moments later and drop you off back at the bakery where your family was working. He set you on the ground, pulling you into a warm hug.

“I’m sorry,”

He said, letting you pull away, and for some reason, you believed him. You, Cassian, and Nesta made quite the dynamic trio, and you would probably miss them the most. They were some of your closest friends, and also wonderful drinking buddies. You and Nesta loved cheating in card games and beating Cassian when he was too drunk to notice until he owed either of you a fortune.

“You can always come visit me and Nes, just send a letter or somethin’.”

He murmured to you, wiping the tears from your cheek, and giving you an apologetic grin, before sending you off inside your family’s bakery and flying off.

This time, when you saw the shadow still curled around your wrist like it always had been when you and Azriel were dating, you smacked it off, sticking your hand right into a clear ray of sunshine to chase it off.

You were done being dragged down by shadows and darkness, and for once in your miserable life, you were going to look for the light instead.

[inkedinshadows]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Azriel × reader

A/N: so here it is, my first Azriel fic! I'm so excited to share this and I hope you all enjoy it too.

Summary: The bond snapped for Azriel the moment he saw her, thrown into the Cauldron with Elain and Nesta. Now, he wants to help her as she struggles to cope with what happened.

Warnings: angst, ptsd, mention of pain and drowning

Word count: 3.6k

Part 1 of 3

֍֍֍֍֍

It had been one week since Y/N was kidnapped and thrown into the Cauldron. One week since Azriel had found his mate. Even bloodied, with an arrow in his chest, only barely conscious, he’d taken one heavy-lidded look at her and just known.

He’d awoken three days later, still a bit weak but finally able to stand up, to walk. To go see her.

For four days now, Azriel had brought a tray of food to her room, asked her if she needed anything, and told her not to hesitate to tell someone if she did. Sometimes she would shake her head or answer in a whisper with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. Sometimes she would just look at him, though it was as if she couldn’t really see him. But most often, she would keep staring at the wall or out the window, not showing any sign that she even realized he’d walked in.

Azriel knew she was struggling. Mor and Rhys had gotten even less of a reaction out of her. Cassian was still healing. Elain and Nesta were trying to adapt as well, each in their own way, and though Y/N was their sister’s friend, neither of the girls had asked to see her. Nor her them, for that matter. So Azriel had taken it upon himself to check on her a couple of times every day.

He knocked gently on her door, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. But she wasn’t sleeping, his shadows confirmed that. Despite his initial protest, a few tendrils had slipped away from his control and now lingered in the darker corners of her room. He’d thought it a violation of her privacy, but she was his mate and she was struggling, and a part of him was glad that his shadows would keep an eye on her. Were eager to, was more like it. So he’d let them.

Azriel pushed the door open and was not surprised to find Y/N sitting in front of the window. It was either that or she’d be curled up on her bed. This time, though, her gaze slid toward him as he took a step inside, and when their eyes met for even just a second, his heart raced in his chest.

“Hello, Azriel,” she said quietly, and her soft voice pronouncing his name for the first time was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

“Hi,” he replied, clearing his throat before taking a few steps forward. He stood a few feet from her, afraid he might startle her. She’d spoken to him, had been the first one to do so, and he considered it progress. He wouldn’t ruin it. “I just wanted to check on you.”

His eyes took her in, and he felt the urge, the need, to reach out to her, to take her in his arms and hold her. She’d turned toward the window again, but he could still see the dark circles under her eyes and her haunted expression. Her posture was rigid, her skin pale, her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. And as he scanned the room, he noticed the tray of food he’d brought her that morning. Untouched.

“You didn’t eat anything,” he added gently, and he had to bite his tongue before he could add ‘again’. She would rarely take one or two bites of food, and it was starting to show. But Azriel knew he couldn’t force her to eat and he was still trying to find a way to convince her.

A few heartbeats passed before Y/N answered, still not looking at him. “I’m not hungry.”

Azriel shoved down his rising frustration. That was not what she needed. But seeing his mate suffer like this, unable to eat, to sleep, and not knowing what to do to help her was driving him crazy.

He debated leaving her alone and maybe go talk to Rhys, asking him whether he knew if there was something else Azriel could do, some kind of help only a mate could provide. That would entail revealing Y/N was his mate, but if it was the only way… besides, his family had probably already understood it. Rhys and Amren, at least.

Azriel looked at her one last time, but she was still staring outside. She’d fallen into her trance once more. He opened his mouth to bid her goodbye, but that’s when he realized it.

Her nightgown. It was the same one she was wearing that morning. And the day before. And the one before that one. He’d never seen her wear anything else, actually. Had she not changed since she’d arrived here?

He frowned, glancing at the drawer before focusing on her again, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. Tentative, almost. “Do you need some clean clothes?”

That got a reaction out of her. She looked down at her nightgown, then at the door that led to the bathroom before finally looking at him. But her eyes dropped as she answered. “I can’t take a bath.”

The words were barely audible even in the silent room, and yet they hit Azriel like a punch to the gut. She couldn’t take a bath. Couldn’t, probably because it brought back memories of the Cauldron. His heart clenched and he had to take a deep breath to calm down and not go back to Hybern to deal with the king all by himself.

His shadows lunged forward as if they wanted to reassure her, but he held them back. He approached her slowly, stopping just in front of her. He crouched down next to her and waited for her to meet his eyes before speaking.

“Let me help,” he said, unable to hide his concern any longer. He wanted to erase that haunted look from her eyes and he’d do anything to make her feel safe and protected again.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” he continued, his tone gentle. In his mind, he was cursing himself for not having thought she might experience this kind of problem. “I could help you bathe. We can do it at your pace and stop whenever you wish.”

She stared into his eyes and it felt like an eternity passed before she nodded. Relief flooded his chest at her trust, her willingness to finally let someone help her.

Without a word, she stood up and headed for the bathroom. Azriel followed her, his wings tucked in tight behind his back. He had no idea what he was doing, but he knew one thing: he’d do anything in his power to help her, now and forever.

~~~~~~

Y/N watched the water slowly fill the tub. Her heart was already pounding in her chest, but she could feel Azriel next to her and somehow it steadied her.

Being around him was weird. She couldn’t point out what it was exactly that made her feel that way. There was just something about him that made all her senses go on alert, and yet she wouldn’t describe it as an uncomfortable feeling. Not to mention how Azriel was one of the few things she remembered from that day in Hybern. The Cauldron, and him. His body covered in blood, with that arrow protruding from his chest. And the relief she’d felt the first time she saw him walk into her room, healed.

“Y/N?”

She blinked, the tub now filled before her. Azriel said something else, but she wasn’t listening. A frown appeared on her face as she stared down at the water like it was her worst enemy. She guessed it was, in a way. Especially after what had happened when she’d tried to take a bath a few days ago. But Azriel was right. She wasn’t alone now. Maybe this time would be different.

She hadn’t changed her nightgown since she’d been given it a week ago simply because she couldn’t stand the sight of her own body. It didn’t feel like hers anymore. It didn’t look much different from when she was human, other than the arched Fae ears, but now it felt like it was someone else’s. Like it didn’t belong to her.

But she now let it fall off her body, not even noticing the shadows that shot forward to cover her nakedness. She didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything other than that tub and what was about to happen.

With a steadying breath, she climbed inside. The shadows didn’t follow her into the warm water, leaving her completely exposed, and maybe in another situation she would have blushed. Just a week ago, she would have. But now there was only her and the water, reaching up almost to her shoulders, and for the first few moments she thought it was going to be fine.

And then she was in the Cauldron again.

She began shaking as the dark water rose and rose, and it was now at her neck, and she knew it’d soon reach her mouth and her nose, and then it’d submerge her and the pain would begin. Every cell in her body was yelling at her to get out, to swim toward the surface, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

She could hear a muffled voice coming from outside the Cauldron, but she couldn’t make out the words. The world was quickly disappearing, the water rising, and she was trapped, trapped under the surface, trapped in the darkness. Soon she’d feel that excruciating pain again, as if her body was being ripped apart, slowly and thoroughly.

Tears were streaming down her face and she sobbed, drawing her legs close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She began to rock back and forth and maybe she was begging for it to stop, to never start, maybe she was screaming or calling out for someone, maybe she wasn’t saying anything at all.

As that dark freezing water closed above her and pulled her under, she knew the pain would come soon. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was drowning and there was nothing she could do, nothing she could do, nothing she could…

A tender, gentle touch on her cheek. From far away, someone called her name. And among the chaos, the darkness, the crippling fear, she saw a pair of hazel eyes, soft and yet concerned. A male voice assuring her that she was safe, that he was with her.

She wanted to believe that voice, but the water was pulling her under, cold and dark and terrifying. But that gentle voice was still talking to her, those hazel eyes still looking into hers, and she tried to hold on to them, to not let it all slip away.

And then someone took her hand and suddenly she felt something thumping beneath her palm. A heartbeat, she realized. Life.

Heartbeat meant life. Not death, not pain.

Life.

“Breathe with me, Y/N.”

She didn’t know where the voice was coming from, how it could sound so clear and close when she was drowning in the depths of the Cauldron.

“One breath in, one breath out.”

That heartbeat was steady, the voice gentle, those hazel eyes still in front of her. Like a light in the dark. She had to reach them, somehow.

“Can you do it for me, Y/N?”

She didn’t know if she could, but she wanted to. Her lungs were full of water and she was drowning, dragged down and down in the endless pit of the Cauldron, pain tearing her apart as she sank. But the voice never stopped. It kept telling her she was safe, asking her to stay with him, to breathe with him. And so she did, following his instructions.

One breath in, one breath out.

She stared into those beautiful eyes.

One breath in, one breath out.

She focused on that heart beating against her palm.

One breath in, one breath out.

The Cauldron disappeared. She blinked, and Azriel was there. He was kneeling next to the tub, his hands holding hers against his chest, on his heart. There was a small smile on his face.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re doing great,” he said, his tone reassuring and soothing. “You’re here with me. You’re safe now. No one will harm you, I promise.”

She had stopped shaking and rocking, but tears were still running down her cheeks. Azriel just kept murmuring praises and reassurances, his eyes never leaving hers. And finally, after what felt like hours, she stopped crying.

She watched as Azriel wiped away her tears, as he leaned in to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You’re alright,” he whispered, and she believed him, but her eyes never left him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You’re doing great, Y/N,” he continued, his voice low and soothing.

She didn’t stop him when he picked up a sponge, poured some scented soap on it, and then began to pass it over her arm, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid of hurting her. But even if he wasn’t looking at her anymore, she kept her eyes on his face and her hand pressed against his chest. She still needed to feel his heartbeat, his breathing, so that she could sync it with her own.

But slowly, as Azriel passed the sponge on her arms, her shoulders, her back, she began to relax. He’d pulled her back to reality and he was now washing her with such gentleness, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“Azriel…” she murmured, her hand finally falling away from his chest. She could breathe on her own now, though a bit shakily.

He paused mid-scrub, his sponge on her neck. “I’m here, Y/N,” he said as he met her eyes. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t know how to answer that question. She wasn’t alright, but she was better than before. And this time, thanks to him, she hadn’t spent hours trapped in the tub, only to bolt out once she’d regained control, without having even touched the soap. Even now, though, she had to fight to keep the fear at bay.

“No,” she murmured. Once again, Azriel’s presence made her feel comfortable enough to share that truth and let herself be vulnerable. It was like an innate feeling in her chest, encouraging her to trust him.

She saw the concern in his eyes as she answered and how he seemed to tense a little, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he offered her the sponge and gestured vaguely to her body, as if to tell her to take over the task. “I’ll wash your hair.”

Before she could say anything, he was already moving behind her and filling a jug with water. While she finished washing her body, Azriel took care of her hair, a hand shielding her forehead and her eyes. She didn’t know if it was just a random precaution or if he could somehow sense that getting water on her face would bring back the memories of the Cauldron. Something told her it was the latter.

She even went as far as closing her eyes, relaxing slightly under his gentle care.

~~~~~~

Azriel felt her relax, and a small smile appeared on his lips as he continued to rinse her hair.

He'd seen the terror and horror seize her body and her mind, his heart breaking at the sight and at the sound of her weak voice just repeating the word ‘please’ over and over. She'd been so lost in it that he couldn't reach her, and he'd been about to pick her up and out of the tub when he'd had an idea and decided to try one last thing. Fortunately, his heartbeat worked, and he was proud of her for pushing through and coming back to reality. Back to him.

Once her hair was clean, she looked so relaxed that Azriel just wanted to make her feel like that for a little longer. He picked up the comb and started to run it through her hair, making sure no tangles remained.

She stirred a bit but didn't say anything. He was glad he could help her now, at least. When she'd been shoved into the Cauldron, he was so hurt and weak that he couldn't do anything more than take one little step in her direction before his brothers held him back.

“I'm all done,” he said after a few minutes, breaking the comfortable silence they'd fallen into. “Would you like to stay here a bit longer?”

She shook her head and immediately rose from the tub, her body dripping water. Azriel made sure to have his shadows cover her nakedness again as he offered her a towel, but it still wasn't enough to prevent his heart from pounding in his chest.

Though it stopped as soon as she stepped out of the tub, and he noticed the tears in her eyes.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” he asked. Maybe he'd gone too far, maybe he'd done something wrong or overstepped in some way. But she had seemed so calm and relaxed till a few moments ago…

She took a step toward him and reached out, gently taking his hand. “I… I just don't know how to thank you,” she murmured, and Azriel felt relief wash over him. “What you've just done for me, I… I can't thank you enough for it.”

Azriel smiled, then. A reassuring, soft smile as he gave her hand a tender squeeze. “You don't need to. You needed help, and I'm glad I was the one who could offer it to you.”

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway and stepped back, releasing his hand. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He wanted to tell her, then. That he'd always be there for her, whatever she needed, because she was his mate and he couldn't stand to see her suffer. But he couldn't tell her, not now, not when she was still so vulnerable.

Instead, he replied, “I told you. You don't have to thank me.”

Azriel wanted to wipe away her tears, to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to make all her fears and worries disappear. And maybe one day they could get there. For now, he just gave her another smile. “I’ll let you get dressed. But if you need anything else, please let me know. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

He began to walk out and toward her room’s door, his shadows lingering close to her for a second before they drifted back to their master. And as his hand grabbed the handle, he heard her soft voice calling him once more.

“Azriel?”

He turned back to her. She was standing in the bathroom doorway, still wrapped in the towel, and she was chewing on her lower lip, as if not sure she should continue. When she didn’t say anything, he stepped away from the door. “Yes, Y/N?”

It took her one more moment before she finally answered. “I’d like to sleep, but I… I usually can’t, with all the nightmares. But I’m so tired and I thought…” She paused and he could see she was getting embarrassed. He’d just helped her bathe and she hadn’t shied away, but now she was nervous about whatever she was going to ask? He tilted his head, not sure where this was going, and she continued. “I feel like I can trust you, like I’m safe with you. And after what you did for me, I thought… would you mind staying with me a bit longer? Just until I fall asleep, I promise.”

Her words were so unexpected that he didn’t react at first. Helping her bathe had been his idea, and she’d just agreed. But knowing her trust was enough for her to ask this, that he made her feel safe after everything she’d been through… it warmed his heart.

She must have misunderstood his silence, because she began babbling. “Or not, I guess. I’m sorry, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought… I shouldn’t have taken for granted you would–”

“Y/N,” Azriel interrupted, taking one step toward her. “I don’t mind. I’d gladly stay, if that’s what you want.”

A hint of a smile graced her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered, his breath catching at the sight of that first tiny, shy smile. “You can trust me, and you are safe with me.” He gestured toward her dresser. “Now get changed. You deserve some rest.”

She nodded and Azriel made sure to look out the window as she put on a clean nightgown. He then moved the chair she’d been sitting on earlier close to her bed and watched her climb under the sheets. Even pale and tired, she looked beautiful, with her damp hair spread out on the pillow.

“I know you said I don’t have to,” she murmured, her eyes scanning his face, “but I’ll never thank you enough for this.”

Azriel just smiled. “Try to sleep, Y/N. Don’t worry about that.”

She curled up into herself, her eyes closing, yet she still whispered one more thing. “Just until I fall asleep. Then you can go.”

“I know.”

Now that she couldn’t see them, his shadows seized the opportunity to leave his side and curled through her hair, as if they too found it hard to keep away. He didn’t try to stop them or make them fall back, not when her expression relaxed even more and her breathing became slow and deep.

He wanted to be there, in case she’d wake up because of the nightmares she’d mentioned. So even long after she’d fallen asleep, Azriel kept watch over his mate.

֍֍֍֍֍

Read part 2 here!

[kale-theteaqueen]

And Now She Becomes Death

Written as a belated entry for @nestaarcheronweek 2024 Day 7: Free Day.

Months and months have passed since Nesta Archeron cut the King of Hybern's head off.

In that time, the River House has been built, Velaris is once again vibrant, and everyone is enjoying the happiness that was hard earned, and at great cost. Well, mostly everyone.

Nesta, who spirals further and further into her own grief with every passing day, has instead burrowed into her tiny apartment in the city, intent on drinking her sorrows away.

But when she goes missing, a concerned neighbor shatters the relative contentment the Inner Circle had been enjoying. Now, faced with the very real possibility that she is once again in the clutches of the enemy, they must stop at nothing to get her back.

For Cassian, that means tearing the world apart, until he has the chance to make sure his mate comes home safe.

But Nesta is no damsel. She was taken by Hybern once, they will not succeed twice. Now is the time for vengeance, and she will not stop until every last one of her enemies is vanquished.

A post-ACOWAR revenge plot AU, in which Hybern kidnaps Nesta as revenge for the death of the King.

Read More on A03:

Tag List: @c-e-d-dreamer @podemechamardek @talkfantasytome @moodymelanist @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @doriansgf @eerievixen @sweet-pea1 @thewayshedreamed @agents-assemble @jsmelodies @aelinchocolatelover @unlikelypersonalknight1 @slipknotvol3 @stylishmuser @lady-winter-sunrise

[angelshadowsinger]

Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You (2)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 

Hiii sorry I dropped off the face of the earth!! Hope all is well with you guys~ Here is part 2 (in case anyone remembers part 1 hehhh oops)

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are!  ⤷ Part 1 here

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

“You’ve been avoiding us.” 

Your eyes flew up to catch Rhysand’s sparkling violet gaze, a perfectly groomed brow risen to meet the edge of his dark hairline. The agile form of the High Lord leaned against the doorway to your office, blending into the darkness of the otherwise unoccupied hallway. 

A deep sigh escaped you upon seeing him, knowing you would have to either fabricate some explanation that he would most likely see through, or admit the truth to him. Your gaze hesitantly floated back down to the brewing station before you, fingers coming to awkwardly play with the knob for the flame.

You’d been so engrossed in the potion you were currently brewing that you hadn’t been paying attention— it had been hours now that you’d been entranced in your work, attempting to perfect this damned concoction. You hadn’t noticed as the sun bled into moon across the now-dark sky outside, and you hadn’t thought to lend an ear to any approaching figures. Not that you’d have heard the sneak anyway. 

It had been only a few weeks since you told Cassian of your condition, and since then you hadn’t thought of it as much, though your fits had remained just as frequent and unfortunately, somewhat intense. Your ailments were the very reason you had been throwing yourself into your work— part distraction, part desperation to concoct something to help stave off another fit full of blood-soaked petals. 

Naturally, as you spent more hours toiling at your potion shop down on the Rainbow, you had less time to linger around the Inner Circle. It wasn’t that you particularly wanted to separate yourself from everyone, it was just… easier this way. You didn’t have to worry about running into Azriel, and you didn’t have to act like you were fine in front of your friends when you were anything but.

But of course, your absence from the Inner Circle was indeed soon noticed— the very reason for Rhys’ impromptu visit. Perhaps it was Feyre whispering pillow talk to her mate, merely expressing that she missed her friend. Or it could have been when Mor received another notice of you bailing on your weekly yaps over dinner that always turned to dancing. Perhaps it was Nesta’s off handed comment about you missing book club again as the group sat around the dinner table. 

Whatever it was that gave Rhysand the push to investigate today, you loathed the position you now found yourself in.

The notion of admitting the truth aloud to your High Lord now made you pale, palms bursting into a sweat. Maybe you could tiptoe around this whole thing, if you played your cards right. There was a chance that Rhys hadn’t put the pieces together yet, a chance that you could tiptoe by, just for another day of peace. 

“I’ve been busy,” you replied. It wasn’t such an outlandish response— you truly had been keeping busy in order to occupy your mind from the misery your life had become. 

The male sighed before he pushed off the door and meandered closer. Sitting down in a chair across from your work table, he rested strong hands on his knees. 

“You’ve been keeping busy,” he corrected. You bit your tongue. “We males may be slower to take than the girls, but Azriel is going to notice you’re avoiding him sooner or later.”

You flinched. 

Bullseye. 

There was no chance Rhys missed your reaction— A panther jumping straight for the throat of its prey. Slashing through the niceties, the bullshit. He knew he had you in his claws now. 

So much for your measly hope of escape.

You stared at the vial in front of you, refusing to meet his eye. There was a part of you that wanted to get up and scream— scream at him for intruding, scream at Cassian for blabbing, scream at everyone, at love, at the world. But that was only a small, small part of you. 

No, the larger part of you was just… exhausted. Bone-tired from upholding this charade. You sagged into your seat, face falling from your carefully-crafted neutrality and morphing into despair. 

Rhys was beside you in an instant, violet handkerchief at the ready. 

You didn’t want to cry anymore, Gods this was so fucking annoying! Why couldn’t Azriel just love you? Why was this happening to you, why did you deserve this agony? Why did he love her, what was it she had that you didn’t?! 

Tears dripped off your chin into your lap, splotching onto your stained work apron. You let out a shaky breath, throat starting to itch with that sick soft feeling of the petals swelling up. 

Panic surged in a chain reaction— you didn’t want Rhys to see it, didn’t want anyone else to know and to watch you as you suffered and retched your guts out. Your ears started ringing and your eyes widened, blurry from the tears and the oncoming fit. 

“Y/N, are you okay, you look sick–” 

The doors Rhys had just been leaning on burst open and Cassian barreled through, wings splayed and teeth bared. 

Both you and Rhys were stunned for a moment, and then Cass was up beside the two of you and slotting himself in between. 

Large hands pushed his brother back hard and Rhys stumbled backward, shocked as he gaped at his brother who now glowered down at him. 

The pure surprise you felt staved off the vicious nausea as your mind left those nasty, awful thoughts, only focusing on the present right before your eyes. 

It only took Rhys a moment to gain his bearings, the challenge his brother issued by laying hands on him now recognized and definitely not going to be swept beneath the rug.

“Cassian.” Rhys growled out the name like a huntsman reprimanding a hound. 

But your friend stood his ground, even if a tremor traveled through his body at the tone of his High Lord. “Don’t come to her work and just interrogate her, she’s not some mortal pet,” Cassian said after a moment, tone hard but not as aggressive. He turned a shoulder to his brother who looked slightly shocked, warm hazel landing on your small, hunched form. “Are you alright?”

You closed your agape mouth and nodded, blinking away the drying wetness from before. 

Rhys stepped closer from the wall he had been shoved against, head poking around Cassian’s broad shoulders. He was clearly still miffed at the altercation, but concern seemed to take over as his violet eyes shimmered and he appraised your weary state.

“Y/N, I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you,“ he said, voice sincere. 

Cassian looked to his brother and sighed, fingers coming to push back a loose tendril of brown from his half-up bun. He pulled out the chair from the nearby workbench, plopping down with apparent exhaustion. 

Rhys, ever observant, took it upon himself to take reins of the situation now that tempers had deescalated. “Please understand– I miss you. Everyone does, very much so. Especially the girls, you know how they are.”

You took a deep breath and hoped that you had the strength for the ensuing conversation. 

“I miss everyone too,” you admitted, gaze glued to the stone floor. Your hands came to rub the sides of your arms, crossing them protectively before your chest. You asked as you turned to the long-haired Illyrian, “Did you tell him?”

Cass raised a thick brow, offended. “No, I haven’t said a word, I swear.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “As if you’d have to say anything. I run an entire Court, I think I’d know when something is amiss within my own rankings,” he countered to his General. 

After a beat, with a softer tone and gaze, he turned his attention to you. “I figure you must have some feelings towards our Spymaster,” he reasoned, “and thus I can understand why you’d like some distance from him at the moment. But our court needs you, and your friends need you too. If you’re having a hard time, we would like to be there for you, whatever you need.”

The High Lord’s peace offering touched your tattered heart. You nodded in understanding, looking away to share a glance with Cassian, whose eyes seemed to say ‘Maybe it would be best to tell him, too.’ 

“The choice is yours,” he said, holding your gaze. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand by you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You began, “Rhys, it’s actually not all that simple…”

–

The reality of your situation had somewhat floored the High Lord. After all, your disease was actually quite rare in Prythian lands, and most had never heard of such a thing. You hadn’t before your self-diagnosis, and you were a healer for Goddess’ sake.

Rhys agreed to keep your secret– after much apologizing and sympathy. He even swore to try his best to keep Feyre from finding out the truth in fear that her heart would break, torn between her brother and one of her closest friends, as he now was. 

You didn’t know if you more hated or appreciated the pity his violet irises held when he left you– the look of sorrow and understanding, one that you didn’t really know quite what to do with. 

Cassian had offered to walk you home from your office, but you’d asked instead to have a moment to yourself, excusing yourself into the evening alone. The pair of you were originally supposed to go to dinner for another night of drinks and distraction, but after the surprise visit from Rhys, and the rather somber explanation of your reality, your spirits were feeling worn.

He had given you a sad look of understanding, but didn’t argue– just said that if you needed him, he’d come whenever. 

You appreciated Cass too, your friend– your only confidant in this tribulating time. Yet a part of you felt bad for burdening him with this overwhelming secret– especially when the one he was keeping it from was his very own brother. And now, Rhys was in the same exact position, too. 

The thought made your shoulders sag, steps a little slower as you trekked by the winding cobbled path along the Sidra. 

The sun was almost fully set and now there was a bite of chill in the air as the summer waned into fall. Though the leaves were still green on the trees, evenings began to grow longer and days shorter, and soon the cold winter would be upon the Night Court.

You stopped to gaze at the powerful river beside you, leaning against the iron gate separating you from the swirling current below. Maybe it was dreary, but you wondered if this would be your last autumn. If you would make it ‘til winter, even… 

Your bouts weren’t necessarily worsening but they hadn’t gotten any better. And the harsh reality was, you couldn’t live like this, how your sickness currently was. 

You would have to schedule the procedure soon. 

So that you could live, and so that this didn’t have to be your last fall. Just your last fall in Velaris… your last fall with Azriel. 

As if some twist of fate would have it, your skin prickled and your heart skipped a beat as the familiar beat of wings neared, a shadow growing beside you. The familiar scent of cedar and rain washed over you– a smell that once had been salvation now turned painful. You swallowed harshly and schooled your spine into a straight line, as if you weren’t just considering your bleak future. 

Wisps of shadow sprawled out around you as lithe feet touched ground, those huge membranous wings folding up to sit squarely behind broad shoulders. 

“Hey stranger,” Azriel said, bumping arms with you in a warm greeting. He seemed to be in a good mood– a small smile bloomed on your lips at his happiness. 

You could feel his intense, beautiful gaze on your cheek, but you didn’t turn to face him, just glanced at him sideways for a moment with your half-hearted smile.  “Hi, Az,” you returned, voice soft, before your eyes focused back on the waters below.

Whorls of shadow twisted up over your pants and across the exposed skin of your arms, greeting you in their own way. You closed your eyes and welcomed them with a quiet laugh, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation of them dancing in the ends of your hair. They did so for a minute before returning to their master, coiling around him in satisfaction, whispering lowly with glee. 

You watched as his handsome face slightly scrunched before he turned his attention back to you. It looked as if a question was about to fall from his lips before you looked away again, heart beating a little faster and clammy palms gripping onto the fence before you a little harder. 

Whatever Azriel was going to say, he decided against– instead content to allow the pair of you to fall into a wistful pause of silence.

“I haven’t seen you very much lately…” The shadowsinger eventually trailed off. 

You didn’t find the quiet that lingered between the pair of you particularly uncomfortable, but it seemed he did by the way he ran his fingers through his hair. You wondered what it felt like— how the silky, dark locks would feel in your hands, what it would be like to be allowed that intimacy. 

“We’ve both been busy, I guess,” you murmured, studying the various rocks that lined the riverbed below. 

It was too difficult to even look at him… you didn’t think he’d notice your ever-growing absence from the Inner Circle, with his new fiancé to distract him. But this was the Spymaster you were talking about— of course he would notice. Not because he cared about you; not in that way, the way you so desperately wanted. But because it was his job, his role. 

What were the odds of both Rhys and Azriel confronting you on the same day? Your emotions were already so battered from speaking with his brother earlier… you didn’t think you could handle talking to the male before you for very long. Exhaustion pulsed in your bones, your body weak and frail, as though you might blow away with a strong gust of wind. 

Azriel watched your gaze. He noted how your fingers clutched the iron, the quiet breaths you took as your eyes landed anywhere but him. Guarded.

“Are you alright, Y/n?” he asked, finally braving the question that had been poised at the tip of his tongue for weeks. 

It had been a long time since the Shadowsinger felt like the two of you were close, and you had drifted away even further since he had announced his engagement to Elain. He thought you were just giving him space so he could shower his new fiancée in attention, but you didn’t look very well now that he had you before him… He mentally cursed himself for pulling back his usual few slips of shadow that tailed you always, the ones that would come back to him in the dark of night and tell him you were alright, happy and safe. He should’ve noticed something was up with you, should’ve come to you sooner. 

Your eyes were glued to the dying sunlight that rippled off the far waves. You hoped that he wouldn’t ask why you wouldn’t look at him; you didn’t know if you could come up with a believable excuse. Taking a moment to find your response, Azriel shifted uneasily beside you. You replied softly, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you lately, Az.” 

The male frowned. “That’s not what I— I’m worried about you… You’ve been avoiding everyone lately. I mean, I haven’t seen you in weeks. Are you okay?”

Your gaze fell to your hands resting on the balustrade, the gentle evening wind rustling your hair. You put all your energy into sounding convincing, but somehow your voice sounded hollow when you spoke. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Azriel sighed. “Of course I want you to be okay, Y/N… but you don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” His gaze lingered on your back, scarred hands curled into themselves. 

“It’s what you want to hear, Az. I’ve just… got a lot on my mind these days. And you’ve got a lot on your plate with…,” you choked, the words scathing like you were tearing your own skin off, ” the wedding… So, you don’t have to worry about me,” you explained, your voice soft. It wasn’t a lie; your mind had been a place of great turbulence for quite some time now; a prison that you couldn’t escape, the walls only drawing closer every time you closed your eyes. 

The male silently slunk a little closer to you, his presence that once calmed you now making your chest ache. “Don’t be like that, I’ll always have time for you. No matter what… or who. Just tell me what’s on your mind,” he offered, the timbre in his voice soft but strong. “Elain says I am a great listener.” 

You closed your eyes and forced in a deep breath, her name like a stab to your heart from the dagger that lived on his narrow hip. The back of your throat started to tickle as your emotions heightened, but you knew you had to stay strong above all else. 

You couldn’t let him see. He wouldn’t see.

“Thank you, Az— you are, and you always have been. This is just… something I have to figure out for myself, I think.” Your heart begged for you to throw a snide comment in about him not having time to listen to you anyway— since every moment you saw him now he was glued to Elain. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pettiness; you didn’t have the strength to utter more words than necessary. 

The cool caress of his shadows greeted your cheek, causing you to look at him. He had snuck even closer, his chest now just barely brushing your shoulder. His face was so strikingly handsome at such close proximity; you nearly burst into a coughing fit just from looking at him. Only a few weeks had gone by without him and yet he seemed even more perfect than ever.

Gods, he was perfect. So sweet, perceptive, and gentle… And kind, and considerate. 

And he was not yours. 

“You don’t have to handle everything on your own, Y/n,” he murmured, hazel soft as he drank in your sunken skin, the bags beneath your eyes. He examined the gauntness of your face, noted the paleness of your complexion.

You could see the care he held for you in that gaze. It was never a question of if he cared for you— that was never the problem. The problem was that he only cared for you as a friend, and that was all you would ever be to him. 

A cough bloomed at the back of your tongue and you sputtered, clearing your throat. “I know,” you rasped, catching your breath. That wicked gaze was fixed on you, aporetic, sharp. “And I’m not, so please just… let it go.” 

Azriel drew a low breath when you pushed past him, your shoulder nudging into his on the way. He called out behind you just as you were about to leave. 

“I don’t understand why you can talk to Cassian about it and not me.”  

You froze, blood chilling to your bones. 

“I saw you two, after the ball. He had you scooped up in his arms and you were crying.” 

Your lip curled. 

Shadows. Those fucking spies of his. 

This was the Spymaster you were playing in the flames with, now. You had to give him cold, hard words that he couldn’t find a soft spot to stab into, or else your cover would be blown. You couldn’t let him find your truth— had to bury away any scrap of vulnerability you possibly could. 

“There’s nothing for you to understand, Azriel… And don’t pretend like you actually give a fuck— if you saw that, why are you only checking on me now? That was weeks ago.”

Azriel’s handsome face was marred with shock for a moment before it morphed into a scowl. The glare he directed your way sizzled, frustration radiating off of him. “I had just gotten engaged, if you recall. I'm sorry that there’s another woman in my life now who comes first, I can’t come running to pick up the pieces for you right away any more.”

You felt your heart crack. You didn’t know if Azriel heard the tiny whimper that escaped as pain sliced through you— his words confirming a truth you’d already tried to prepare yourself for. 

“You’re clearly not over it, whatever it was that happened, even now— I still care, Y/n, I just… I just don’t understand,” he explained, exasperation straining his voice. “Why are you being like this? We tell each other everything.”

Not anymore, rang through your conscience bitterly, and your throat clamped with the effort of fending off another fit. All you could do was stare at him for a moment as you fought the physical urge to vomit and sob at the same time. Somehow you pushed through, forcing out words— any words you could find so that petals didn’t come tumbling out instead. 

“I’m taking care of it! Just– Gods, I’m not some desperate act looking for sympathy. You don’t have to take pity on a poor little loner like me, now that you’ve got everything you could ever dream of, Azriel. Cass caught me at the right time is all, when I needed someone he was there,” you said truthfully. 

Had Cassian not found you passed out beside a petal of blood-covered petals, you never would have told him the truth. Or anyone, for that matter. 

“I get that she comes first now, that’s fine,” you continued, “And I’m glad you two are so in love that all you need is each other. That’s great, just… don’t be mad that when you cut me out of your life I find another shoulder to cry on. I’m not your problem anymore, so just… leave it alone. Just… leave me alone. Please.” 

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes wide and lips pursed as your plea settled over him. 

Somehow you were still standing, shallow breaths ragged as silence filled the emptiness between you. After a pregnant pause, your feet moved on their own, desperate for escape. 

But Azriel caught your wrist as you attempted to push past him again. His fingers were warm and rough, and much to your chagrin, your skin sang at his touch. He dragged you closer, so your bodies just brushed and the allure of his heat whispered to your form. 

“No,” he said almost under his breath, so lowly you nearly didn’t hear him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a dick, I–” he cut himself off and growled, brow furrowed and exasperated with himself, “I don’t care about any of that shit, I just— I just care about you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. He leaned in and your knees wobbled at his proximity. The intoxicating scent of cedar rolled off of him and you tried your best to hold your breath. 

“Your friendship means so much to me. I’d go insane without you, I can’t— I don’t wanna do anything to fuck that up. I feel like shit ‘cuz I haven’t been here for you when you’re going through something and I’m— I'm lashing out when I should be trying to make up for it. I just want you to know that I’ll do better, and if you need me, then I’ll be here… Okay?”

Hazel pierced into you, filled with such care… but at the same time, his gaze was searching; probing and astute. You studied the flecks in those beautiful irises— wondered what they’d look like full of love and infatuation, staring straight down the barrel of your soul. 

“Okay,” you whispered, eyes starry with tears you would not let fall, praying this conversation would just end already.

Azriel smiled weakly, letting out a breath as he took a step back. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” 

You nodded, also stepping to the side, creating more distance. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re busy these days and that’s okay. I know. Please don’t feel bad about being happy.” 

It was Azriel’s turn to nod at that, tucking scarred hands into his pockets casually before clearing his throat. 

“Right, well… Let me take you home?” he offered, arms slightly outstretched as massive wings unfurled behind him. 

The thought of spending one more second in the male’s presence made your stomach twist with agony, but you knew better than to even try to argue. Any words you breathed in protest would be wasted. There was no way in hell Azriel was going to leave you to walk home alone on any given day— but especially not after that big of a fight. 

Instead, you meekly whispered, “Can you winnow me?” Already stepping into his embrace, you tried to bypass any unnecessary seconds in his presence. “I’m fucking freezing,” was your excuse, and even though it was nowhere near such temperatures, Azriel obeyed without question. 

Muscular arms wrapped around you and you let yourself lean onto his firm chest for just the moment it took to slip away between the shadows. There was only one brief pause when it was just the two of you, enveloped in darkness between the planes of the Sidra and your kitchen, when you let yourself breathe in his heavenly scent, and let the feeling of his embrace sink into your skin. 

But it was over just like that, and immediately you stepped away, bumping back against the countertop. You shot him a brief smile which he returned, uttering a small “goodnight” before he slipped back into the darkness and away into the night. 

You stared at the empty spot which he had just occupied, weariness throbbing through your form. Pure exhaustion blossomed deep within you and all you craved was the sweet nothingness of sleep— the one time you could slip away from your hellish reality of pain and longing. But sleep was still far off, you knew, as you padded over to the washroom and sank to your knees before the toilet, readying yourself for a grueling night filled with scarlet-tipped petals once again.

okayyyy so we finally met Az this chapter!! what do we think? isnt he so angsty and scrumptious heheee

⤷ masterlist

[elliemarchetti]

Could I get a snippet of rouge prive 🥺👉👈

For supernatural creatures, memories were something strange, stronger and more invasive than how mortals experienced them. Sometimes it was a burden, like when she saw Feyre's protruding ribs and Elain's sad eyes among the beggars on the streets, but on other occasions it was a blessing, which allowed her not to retrace her steps to smell Eris’s unmistakable citrusy scent or to perceive his intense gaze still studying her from afar. 

[myladysapphire]

A doe, A deer - A Drop of golden sun

being the youngest archeron sister often meant that you were the forgotten one, no one ever saw you, until he did.

Azriel x Archeron!OC

CW: mdi 18+, selective mutism, struggles with eating, talks of nausea, war/acowar? but its not described just happens, kidnapping, angst, fluff, canon character death, violcene, king of hybern being a creep. not beta read!

word count: 2,280

authors note: thank you for so much support in part one! hope you all enjoy this one as much as the last!

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

Daphne had yet to wake.

Three weeks had passed, and Daphen remained unconscious. Her face pale, and the rise and fall of her chest was barley noticeable.

The inner circle feared she was dead. Or at least had been dead when she was tossed into the cauldron.

Madja thought as much but refused to admit it as she overlooked the youngest of the Archeron siblings.

She had had to work around a loitering Azriel.

The male was hellbent on watching Majda’s every move and refused to leave Daphnes side.

He only left when the high lord ordered it. And even then, he was quick to return.

The bond between them bounding her to him.

It had since the moment she bumped into him and her pretty eyes connected with his.

And when she had spoken, though little and shy, her sweet voice taunted his dreams as he thought of her.

He had been as shocked as everyone that she had spoken. Having been told by Feyre she had been silent since an event in their youth. And He worried after her departure. And more so as after every visit, she laid bound in bed, and the reck of death loitered around her body.

The had begged Nesta to allow him to take her with him, to have a fae healer her, and he had been refused and forced to leave her to the useless hands of whatever healer the Archerons had employed. The very healers that had all but killed her.

He had felt the bond go dead as she was thrown in the cauldron.

The scream he let out as he wept and mourned the bond he never truly got to experience. He mourned the person he had begged to know for 500 years; the person he had begged Feyre to tell him about.

And now he was stuck preying to whatever gods would listen that she would wake up.

As Feyre retuned home, he was forced to focus his attention on matters of the court, his heart aching as he was forced to leave Daphne, and though she was in the company of at least one of her sisters or even Mor. He hated it.

He hated even more the fact that when she finally did wake up, it was like she hadn’t woken up at all.

she was silent, more so than before according to Feyre.

She refused to eat or leave her seat by the window.

She seemed to rock back and forth on the floor, her hands covering her ears.

He hadn’t been allowed to see her, barred entry by Rhysand, who had all but commanded him to stay away.

It killed him, even more so when he started to see the bond blossoming between Feyre and Rhysand, and even more so when he saw Elain starting to let Lucien in.

She could hear the sound of her heart, the waves in the sea and the whispered words of Feyre and Rhysand outside her door.

She could hear everything, and though she had completely lost her hearing before, everything had gone form being faint and having to focus in order to listen, to sitting as far as she could and being bale to hear everything.

The door to the room she had been placed in opened, and Feyre slowly entered. Her face hopeful as she looked at Daphne.

“How are you today?” Feyre asked, her eyes begging her to speak.

But the want to speak had left her, she no longer wished for the ability to speak, or begged for her thoughts to be voiced. Instead, she simply stared having no will or want to voice her empty mind.

“have you eaten?” she questioned, clearly eyeing the tray still full of food.

She huffed at the lack of response, her hand reaching for Daphnes, only for her to flinch away.

“Please Daphne” she begged, for what neither knew wish.

They sat in silence for a time before Feyre finally left.

And Daphne let out a sigh of relief.

Another week passed, and Daphne, though still refused to speak to anyone, had started to talk to herself.

It had started by accident, with her looking in the mirror and analyse her new Fae form. She spoke her thoughts out loud, and though she had expected he usual nausea to emerge, but none came.

She began to eat, even if it was only a biscuit and tea, at least she was eating.

she hadn’t had any visitors in days, having been finally left alone and being given the chance to think and process.

At least that was until a knock sounded and Azriel entered the room.

Daphne looked at him curiously.

“Daphne?” he spoke carefully, looking around the room and taking in her half-eaten dinner.

His shadow’s whispering relief at the fact she had finally eaten.

“How are you?” he asked softly, taking a seat not to far from her.

She looked down, thinking thoroughly, as if unsure of how she felt.

She looked back out the window, her eyes distant, “I died” she whispered. She didn’t know why she said it, or where the confidence to talk to him came from.

His shadows seemed to circle her, wrapping around her arms, almost caressing her to comfort her.

“What?” Azriel questioned, his voice soft and careful. As if he would spook her and she wouldn’t talk to him again.

Her eyes jumped to the shadows, a soft smile on her face as they danced around her.

“I was dying…and that night my heart stopped” she continued, her face slowly turning to look at him, “the cauldron said so”

A tear dropped from his eye, his face one of devastation, “but your alive now.” He said whether it was to comfort himself of her he wasn’t sure.

“yes” she sighed, not in disappointment. “I can hear everything” she breathed, “I have to stuff my ears with cotton so I can sleep”

“i- fae hearing is rather different to human…I can ask Rhysand to put a sound barrier up for you, so that you can sleep”

She nodded, swallowing roughly.

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes watching her closely, before he stood to leave.

“stay” she murmured, “please” and he did, for the next week he would come and visit her for hours on end, where she would eat and sometimes talk.

Her voice still rough and slow as speaking didn’t come easier to her, but something about Azriel’s presence seemed to comfort her, and made her feel safe.

“How is she?” Feyre asked Azriel, her voice dripping with concern for her youngest sister.

Elain and Nesta seemed to be doing better, making progress even if it was slow.

And with the recent high lords meeting, and the wall falling, Feyre mind had been occupied on the war. She was filled with guilt over neglecting her youngest sister, but Azriel the quiet shadow singer seemed to be spending all his time as of late with her.

“she’s doing better” he spoke, “she…she is eating and she’s been speaking”

Feyre shouldn’t of been jealous, shouldn’t envy her friend for the comfort her sister found in him. And yet she was.

“Really?” she tried to keep her voice even and not show her true feelings on the subject.

It had been a long day and though she was making some progress on flying it was stills sore and tiring.

“What do you speak about?”

“i- I don’t think she want me to tell you…sorry” he mumbled.

“But she’s, okay?”

“Okay as someone can be after what she went through” his tone was dismissing, “though…she does want to see you, and Nesta and elain” he said slowly, gagging for Feyre reaction, “but don’t expect her to say anything…she barley speaks and is very unsure of herself”

“of course,” Feyre nodded, her face lighting up with a smile.

It had started of slowly, whereas nest and elain had greatly improved over the last month and half, even if Elain was still stuck in her head half the time and still needed the company of Lucien to eat or sleep.

She started to venture outside of her room, joining the inner circle for meals.

She had yet to speak to anyone but Azriel, and even then, it was rare.

She was content to be silent but know knowing she had the option to speak if needed filled her with a confidence she hadn’t had before.

And even if she wasn’t using words to verbalise her thoughts, she could sign when she wanted to.

Feyre had evens tarted learning it, after spotting her using it to speak to Azriel and Mor, even Rhysand after she made it clear she wasn’t comfortable with him talking to her in her head unless absolutely necessary.

Then as a week went on, her and Elain started to garden, and she had even asked Azriel to take her into Velaris to shop for plants and seeds. An activity he was more than happy to do.

But all this process seemed to stop as the Archeron sisters found themselves in the midst of a war.

She had found herself chained and gagged. A voice soothing her as she was lured from bed into the enemy camp and tied bound and bed of the to the very person that had tormented her and her sisters so.

Elain too had been lured, though she was kept somewhere else. Having been instantly separated.  

The king looked down at you with a taunting glare, his hand swiping at her face in a way she were sure was meant to be a caress.

Daphne shivered in disgust, her legs kicking at him, as his soldiers tried to bind them too.

“aren’t you pretty” he crooned, “and silent too…most would be screaming, but not you” his eyes gleamed as he spoke. “a shame I need you unharmed and untouched” he crooned, his eyes looking over her body, before he stood to leave, his eyes surveying over her form, his arousal clear, as he exited the tent.

The soldiers gave you a similar look as they tied her down and left to stand guard.

And she was left to shiver in the cold tent and pray your someone came to her rescue.

Her mind instantly went to Azriel, the male she had a hopeless crush on since their first meeting.

He had always been kind to her, looked at her with such care, talked to her so softly and never expected anything in return for his kindness.

She had felt a connection with him from the moment she met him, as if there was a string that tied her to him. She only hoped he felt the same.

But she also feared he did, she feared she wouldn’t be good enough, or not enough for a male such as him. Feared that he would rather rescue Elain and leave her in the hands of the enemy.

She didn’t know why she had these thoughts. But they chased her.

Elain had powers, she was useful.

She could talk.

She was everything Daphne wasn’t.

It was a thought she had had her whole life.

Surely, they would prioritize Elain, she was the useful one whereas Daphne was the burden.

Tears feel from her eyes, and feeling of panic overtook her.

She didn’t want to be left behind, she had scarcely even lived.

She felt a tugging in her chest.

Different from the usual tugging she felt whenever she would have an attack.

This one tugged at her heart and flooded it with comfort.

The tears in her eyes fading as she focused on it.

She had felt it before, whenever she was sad or nervous, often a shadow would appear shortly after, and wrap around her wrist.

And this time was no different.

The tugging felt stronger, as if whatever it was that was tugging her was getting closer, and as more shadows entered the tent, and the sound of guards dropping outside. She realised the source of the tug walked into the tent.

“Daphne” Azriel breathed, his blood-spattered face frowning as he took her in. “are you okay?” he questioned, approaching you slowly, “did they-“ he couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bare to say the words.

Daphne shook her head “no” she breathed “they needed me intact” she said, her tone angry as she recited the words.

Azriel slowly undid her binds, before lifting her into his arms. “ we need to leave now…Feyre has Elain” he mumbled, as if reading her mind and the question on the tip her tongue.

The journey back was long. From being chased and hunted out of Hyberns came, to the actual journey back to camp.

Azriel didn’t leave her side for the rest of the night. In fact, he refused to leave it all together, and the few moments he did, she found herself tugging on that string between them.

They didn’t talk about it, no one mentioned it as they saw her wrapped around his ar, refusing to leave his side.

It wasn’t what was important, at least right now.

For now, they had the war to think about.

She couldn’t remember much leading up to the moment, only the image of her grabbing truthteller, Azriel’s sword, and plunging it into the king of Hyberns neck. Of Nesta’s Scream. Of their father’s neck snapping.

And then there was a burst of golden light, something the heat of the sun flooded the field, taking the life of Hyberns troops.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

taglist

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