#azriel is the new ribbon

[sadiegirl2021]

I'm sure Gwyn will think of a very practical use for her white ribbon! 😇

[daughter-of-lethe]

Art by: frostbite.studios

It's canon.

[lady-embers]

Gwyn and Azriel in ACOSF

I figured I'd put together a little post of Gwyn and Azriel moments throughout ACOSF, outside the Azriel bonus chapter, so that others could see why us Gwynriels ship them without needing the bonus chapter.

These moments include looks that others notice or just them looking at each other, interactions of them together, and just moments I find foreshadowing for them.

Without further ado:

♧ Gwyn had been distracted today—one eye on the other side of the ring. Cassian could only assume she was watching his brother, who had given Gwyn a small smile of greeting upon arrival. Gwyn hadn’t returned it. - Chapter 39

♧ Gwyn let out a high-pitched noise that was nothing but pure excitement. Azriel, on the other side of the ring with the rest of the priestesses, half-turned at the sound, brows high. - Chapter 44

♧ He nodded to Gwyn and Emerie, the former glancing toward Azriel, who watched in silence.

“We slice the ribbon in two,” Emerie asked Gwyn warily, “and our training is complete?” Gwyn again glanced to Azriel, who drifted closer. She said, “I’m not entirely sure.” - Chapter 51

♧ Azriel had winnowed her and Cassian here after training, but hadn’t lingered. Apparently, Gwyn wanted him to go over dagger handling, so he’d left them with a promise to return in an hour. - Chapter 55

♧ Cassian glanced over at Az, but his attention was fixed on the young priestess, admiration and quiet encouragement shining from his face. - Chapter 60

♧ Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved. - Chapter 60

♧ Azriel clapped his hands, and all the females straightened. “You’ll work in groups of three.”

Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, “What do we get if we finish the course?”

Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.”

Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.” - Chapter 60

♧ Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. “You have no idea what you just started,” she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway.

“Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. “You’re the new ribbon, Az.” - Chapter 60

♧ “There are plenty of other unspeakable things that could be happening to her,” Cassian said, voice thickening. “To Emerie and Gwyn.” The shadows deepened around Azriel, his Siphons gleaming like cobalt fire. “You—we—trained them well, Cassian. Trust in that. It’s all we can do.” - Chapter 68

♧ “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it." - Chapter 68

^That is confirmed by Cassian from Chapter 14 when he said “I heard that Mor had brought one in. Azriel was the one who made it out there first, and he killed any of the Hybern soldiers left, but by that point …”

While these scenes do not have romantic feelings or connotations, I would rather have Gwyn and Azriel romance built upon in their book, and there is potential from these scenes to have that happen.

Now, I might be forgetting some so if I have.... please leave a comment, or even reblog, with the scene 🥰

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

the ribbon tied around ms berdara’s head does something to me

[the-new-ribbon]

Saw a tiktok that said nesta is elriel’s biggest shipper and im just 🤨🤨

[gwyn-nesta-emerie]

Nesta is a Gwynriel supporter

I find it interesting the colors Nesta picked out for Gwyn's bracelet in Chapter 59:

Nesta refrained from snickering and selected colors for Gwyn: blue, white, and teal.

The teal for Gwyn's eye color. The white for possibly Gwyn's powers of glowing when she sings. The blue for the Invoking Stone (which is somewhat similar to the Illyrians Siphons) or maybe Nesta picked that color for Azriel given he has BLUE siphons....

And then we have this scene in Chapter 60 in which it solidified my thinking in that Nesta is a Gwyn and Azriel supporter:

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement.

When he turned back, Nesta grinned. “You have no idea what you just started,” she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway.

“Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. “You’re the new ribbon, Az.”

[adelainejdevyn]

You're the new ribbon, Az.

Gwynriel week 1 day 4🌶

The wooden door of the shack burst open and fell off its hinges. The footsteps echoed across the walls of the old house as a figure stepped inside. The golden light from the lanterns on the street illuminated his body but left his face in utter darkness. His broad shoulders filled the space, and beyond them, Persephone caught a glimpse of his white feathered wings.

Gwyn snapped the volume shut, the sound echoing off the walls of the library beneath the House of Wind. Thankfully, the soft firelight along the bookshelf wasn’t bright enough to reveal her heated cheeks.

She clutched the book to her chest, her heart hammering beneath it as she quickly made her way up into the House. Gwyn was aware that she had been late, but she had been electrified by this particular chapter in the Union of Souls. Azriel could stand to wait a bit longer for her to join him.

The House was quiet as Gwyn made her way along the halls. She knew Nesta and Cassian had gone to bed early. Cassian had just returned from the Illyrian Mountains, and Nesta was exhausted by training.

Gwyn tried to calm her breathing as she reached Azriel’s room and opened the door. “I lost track of time while reading-”

“Gwyneth.”

Gwyn stopped in her tracks, her back against the shut door. The sight before her made her stomach flutter; Azriel sat naked on a chair in the middle of his room, soft candlelight licked the planes of his torso, his thick thighs spread and those massive wings sprouting from his back and drooping to the marble floor.

“Oh,” Gwyn said, as she watched the muscles in his arms, which were pulled behind his back. As his shadows danced around him, she saw the flutter of a ribbon, which must be securing his wrists behind him.

Gwyn’s book clattered to the floor, hunger in her eyes and throat as she looked at his desire, his cock straining against his lower abdomen.

When Gwyn had approached Azriel a few months ago with the request to help her release some stress through acting out naughty scenes from her favorite book, she had not imagined he would say yes. She likely thought he would gently shut her drunken idea down.

But he had said yes. Since then they had been kissing, touching and fucking on every surface of the House of Wind, Azriel’s own apartment and in a nook on the stairs no one really visited anymore.

“I see that you’ve caught up on the latest scene,” Gwyn whispered, “it is one of my favorites.”

Azriel’s smile was lazy and utterly gorgeous. His hazel eyes hard when they met hers, “Let’s see how much you’ve studied up, Berdara.”

Gwyn stepped over the fallen book, her hands making quick work of her robe which fell onto the floor. She wore a short, light blue nightgown, and she knew that the shape of her breasts were visible beneath it.

Azriel’s hip raised slightly off the chair, but his body was otherwise restrained. His shadows traveled from his legs, up his torso and settled onto his wings as Gwyn approached him.

She stood between his legs, her finger coming up to trace the pattern of his tattoos on his chest. She felt his chest rise and fall at her touch.

“Am I in charge tonight, shadowsinger?” She asked. Gwyn sometimes let him lead, especially in the beginning as she was as good as clueless. She liked having him command her, it drove her wild.

“You,”Azriel met her gaze steadily, “have always been the one in charge.”

Gwyn’s breath caught in her throat, her finger momentarily stilling on his skin. She licked her lips before nodding.

Azriel’s face was serious when she leaned over and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm but she opened her mouth to him, their tongues dancing shyly.

Gwyn crawled onto his lap, she wore no underwear beneath her nightgown and his hard flesh against her wet cunt felt blissful.

Azriel made a low sound as she began to grind against him, her arms around his neck, the tips of her fingers tickling his wings.

“This is inappropriate,” he protested faintly, the dialogue from the scene they were acting embedded in his brain. Gwyn smiled against his lips.

“Fine,” She played along, “I’m getting off of you-”

“No.” Azriel said, which was not part of the scene and kissed her again. Gwyn let her hand roam over his chest, he was hot beneath her palms and his arm strained from being tied up.

“Oh,” she said as she sunk onto him, “that is very inappropriate of you, husband.”

Azriel moaned, and she blushed at the word. Husband. It was just the book’s dialogue, she told herself, that is why he’s turned on. That and the fact that she was riding him. Azriel didn’t feel anything other than friendship for her, besides lust.

Gwyn leaned down, her hands reached behind him and pulled on the ribbon. The moment he was free, one scarred hand encircled her throat, while the other settled on her lower back. His fingers dug into her hot flesh as he guided her over him. 

The sound of their desire was enough to make Gwyn pant through her teeth. Azriel let his head fall back, his throat exposed as his mouth fell open in silent ecstasy.

“Gwyn.” He rasped.

She gasped as he managed to make her move even quicker above him, the sound of her nightgown tearing beneath his grip echoed off the walls.

He yanked her forward by the throat for a searing kiss that pushed them both over the edge. Gwyn fell into the sparkling lights of her delicious orgasm as she felt Azriel spill inside of her so violently that his come ran down her thighs.

Cauldron, she thought, the Valkyrie Book Club was going to be so much more interesting with her next update.

Author’s note:

Curious to see what Gwyn had been reading? Check out my Wattpad page!

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

i was wondering if you could give us any sneak peeks on what you're working on for gwynriel weeks, pretty please with a cherry on top <3

So my gwynriel weeks subissions are going to be really late as it falls right during my finals weeks. Originally, I planned for 7 submissions but that was before putting the dates in context with my life. I will then be moving from California to Chicago for a couple months for school so if my submissions are like a month late thats probably why haha

Right now I have nothing written, but I do have the moodboard finished. I can tell you I will be writing a very spicy, BDSM one shot for NSFW day. I would also like to write another one shot for Day 4 (You're the New Ribbon, Az) that will either have smut or not. If I have time, I'll write a one shot for Day 1 (Series of Firsts) where Az will either hold his newborn children for the first time and realize how much he deserves a life of happiness OR he is going to take their kids flying for the first time.

I may or may not post my favorite headcanon's or theories but I have so many of them it may just come when I can get to it.

Sorry for not exclusive or concrete content its just the reality of my life rn!

[klaroeternity]

I haven't wanted two characters to be endgame this badly since the times of Klaroline. I really missed the feeling

The start of something new ✨

Commissioned piece with artcraawl 🫶🏼

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky didn’t have much of a temper.

Even if she was frustrated or annoyed, she rarely got angry or lost her patience. 

It wasn't that she didn't have emotions. She did. She felt things deeply, passionately. However, she also believed that there was no point in wasting energy on getting angry. It didn't solve anything. It only made things worse. 

So Sky had learned a very, very long time ago…that there was no need to start screaming, because her stutter didn’t allow her that anyway…and that maybe…maybe it was easier for her to just let go off her anger about being unfairly treated. 

Getting angry wouldn’t help her. 

That day however…it burst out of her. Burst out of her like somebody had lanced an abscess. 

Her family could say whatever they wanted about her. But they were not going to say a single word about Azriel 

It was Winter Solstice.

Azriel and her had spent the last month or so enjoying winter season in Velaris…even once trying to ice skate on their lake, which only ended with him kissing her skinned knees, because she was definitely not a natural at it.

They had bought Winter Solstice gifts, and baked cookies…had decorated their house with pine garlands and velvet ribbons…

She had knitted them socks and they had made rabbit stews out of rabbits Azriel had hunted in the forest behind their house. (It was…she had never really seen him as a warrior, even when he wore these black leathers and the blue stone that glinted off him…but she could see him as a hunter, when he came home with a couple of rabbits, ready for dinner. It had also resulted in a new fur lined blanket for her, all ready on the couch. 

She had never outright asked…but he seemd to like it when she was cuddled beneath it, like it seemed to soothe some kind of instinct for him. Maybe the fact that it was the animal he had hunted?)   

Sky and Azriel had both made the decision to spend the days with their respective families and have their own Solstice celebrations the next day…that would pretty much sonsits out of a lazy day in bed and nothing else. 

It sounded amazing. Just what they wanted. 

And it had made sense to celebrate like that. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to keep him from his family after all, even if the thought of not spending Solstice with her mate had hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Azriel had been up ridiculous easily in the morning for a snowball fight that was apparently tradition…but not before he had spent a good half hour making her scream his name with his mouth between her thighs…

Afterwards, she had gotten dressed and left the shadows to amuse Hector for the day… and Sky had left to help her mother with dinner preparations.

A nice, quiet family dinner. Nothing more and nothing less.

That’s what it was supposed to be. They didn’t even get that far.

It all went to shit before dinner was even in the oven. 

From the moment she entered her parents house it was a barrage of barbed comments. About her appearance, her stutter, her lack of an boyfriend…her lack of a proper job. (Sellyn Drake was hers. Sellyn Drake was nothing they got to gossip about.) 

Sky had bitten her tongue. She had ignored the comments, tried to enjoy herself. But Claire never knew when enough was enough.

Her sister kept at it. Kept needling, jabbing at Sky until the little bubbles of anger popped to the surface and boiled into something…bigger.

“I…I met my m…mate,” Sky finally said flatly, after anther jab at her lack of a boyfriend. 

Take that Claire. Not just a fiance. A mate. 

Finally in just one thing Sky had been faster than her sister. 

A mate. That mystical rare mating bond had been a gift from the other for her and not for Claire. 

It caught Claire off guard. She stopped pacing, and turned to look at her sister, brow raised. The look said ‘Oh is that so?’ as if it was the kind of nonsense she had come to expect from her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clearly not believing a word Sky said. 

But Sky wasn’t going to let this go. “His n..name is Azriel,” Sky said with a smile. “We are ver…very hap…happy.” 

They were. They were so happy. So delightfully happy. (So delightfully happy that Sky had been wondering if maybe…maybe the should start trying. High Fae fertility was hit or miss anyway…why shouldn’t they simply start trying and see where it would take them. And if it took two decades, then it took two decades. If it only took a year or three…well, then they were lucky.)  

Claire narrowed her eyes. She was about to say something mean, Sky could see it in the way her lip curled up.

“He…He's a g…good male,” she said firmly, cutting Claire off before she got the chance to spew out anything else.

Claire laughed. It was a harsh, biting sound.

"A good male? Really, Sky?" she sneered. "You actually fell for that line?"

It wasn’t a line. It was the truth. 

Azriel was a good male. Patient and intense and loving. He had never raised a single finger against her.Azriel would never hurt her intentionally. 

 Claire just wanted to belittle Sky in front of their whole family.

"You must be even more naive than you seem if you believe that," she said, almost pityingly. "You really think he wants you? That he actually cares about you? Nobody could want you. I bet he just pities you."

It should have hurt her, she realised. It would have. Even just months ago, it would have hurt her. 

But right now…right now it didn’t really. 

She was supposed to believe that Azriel didn’t want her? The same male that had spent the better part of an hour on his knees in front of her that very morning, eating her out like a starved male? She was supposed that her mate, who’s arousal shot across the bond like an inferno any time she slipped off her clothes, didn’t want her? That the same male that stared at her like she was a goddess, that spent hours worshipping her body with his hands…that she had nearly made come simply by touching his wings a few days ago didn’t want her? 

Still…Claire's words had their effect. She felt a small stab of doubt in her heart, and she hated it. She hated that her sister could still hurt her like this, still make her feel like that insecure little girl who stuttered and couldn't get a single word right.

“He…He l…loves me and I…I love him,” Sky said calmly.

That was clear in every single one of his actions, in every single word. 

“Where did you even meet him?” Sky’s mother demanded. “And what kind of name is Azriel?”

“In…In a bar. Wh…When we went out for Cl..Claire’s Hen Do.  And I im…imagine it’s an Il…illyrian name.”

Everything ground to a halt.

“He’s Illyrian?!” Her mother demanded sharply. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar!”

Sky flinched at her tone. It was harsh, angry. It was the same tone she'd always used when Sky was younger and got anything wrong or stepped out of line.

"Yes, he's Il…Illlyrian," she said, meeting her mother's gaze levelly. "What's…what’s wrong with that?" she asked. 

She knew that her family wasn’t the…most open about Lesser Faes, but…but that hatred in her mother’s voice….she hadn’t expected that. 

“Everything,” Admon gave back with a snort. “You seriously let that barbarian fuck you? I am surprised you actually survived that and he didn’t just rip you apart.”

Every bit of colour leeched out of her face, except her ruddy red cheeks at these crude words. 

This was Admon. Once upon a time, she had wanted to marry him. To have his children. To spent her life with him. 

And…and this was what he told her to her face. 

“I can’t believe that you even let a creature like him touch you,” her mother breathed staring at her with utter disgust.

“He’...He’s not a cre…creature,” Sky bit out. Azriel was her mate. 

“Is it true by the way?” Her brother wondered. “That Illyrian’s have a cat’s prick?”

"Orin!" her mother exclaimed, aghast. "Don't be vulgar! I don't want to know."

Orin shrugged, a smirk dancing across his face. "What? I’m just curious. I am sure Skylar knows. She must please him somehow when she’s still alive to enjoy their…couplings.”

Sky felt ill. She didn't know what to say, what to say in defense of the man she loved. She couldn't get a word out.

“Did you…did you let it touch you?” Her father demanded finally, his voice icy.

It. Not even him. It. Like Azriel was a thing. 

Sky felt her heart drop to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her father's face grew stony, and he took a step closer to her.

“How dare you?” he hissed. "How could you let a monster touch you like that?"

"He's not a monster!" Sky protested, her voice rising. "He's…He’s k…kind and gen…gentle, and-"

“And I am sure, he keeps you stuffed with his cat prick to keep you satisfied,” Claire drawled.

And Sky was done.

Somehow that was the last straw. 

Somehow that made something inside her break, irreparable. 

It snipped away every thread that ever kept her close to the family that she had been born into. 

“At least I didn’t need to take my sister’s sl…sloppy s…seconds,” Sky said, her voice flat, meeting her gaze full on.“And yes, Azriel more than keeps me s…satisfied.”

Silence descended over the room, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Sky felt the tension in the air grow heavier with each passing second.

"You…you didn’t just say that,” Claire said coldly. "You take that back, Sky.

Sky raised her chin defiantly. "No.” she said simply. “I'm…I’m not taking back the truth," she said, her voice ringing with unexpected steel.

"You do not speak to me like that," Claire hissed. "You have no right—"

Something inside Sky snapped. Years of frustration, years of feeling invisible and ignored, years of enduring Claire's taunts and jibes all bubbled to the surface.

"I…I have ev…every right," she shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not so fun when you are on the re…receiving end, is it?”

“Either you end your…dalliance with…that creature, or you are no daughter of mine,” her father snapped.

He talked to her like she was nothing. Like she was worth less than dirt beneath his boots. 

And somehow that made it even easier. 

“You want me to turn away my mate…for what? This?” She asked him, cocking her head to the side. .

"For the sake of our family’s reputation," her father said. "You are an embarrassment to us all by associating with that…lesser fae barbarian.”

Barbarian. Lesser Fae. Thing. Creature. Monster.

All of that said about the male she loved. About her mate. 

“He’s Illyrian,” Sky said, her voice icy. 

“Oh come off it,” “Orin snapped. “He’s lesser fae. The only thing they are good for is being fodder for the armies during war times. Other than that, they are worthless.”

Fodder. 

“We have Lesser Fae ancestry ourself,” Sky responded icily. “Our great grandmother was a River Nymph.”

"That was a long time ago," her father interrupted sharply. "It was one ancestor generations ago. And besides, her blood was not that strong to begin with."

Sky thought back to the eyes that looked back from her mirror each day. Blue and beautiful. The one trace of her that got passed down to her.

"Maybe it was her blood that made you think that opening your legs for that creature was in any way appropriate," her mother hissed. 

And suddenly it was so easy. 

“Azriel is my mate,” she hissed. “I will al…always chose him over you. You can spew what..whatever insult you want about him or his pe…peoople. He’s still a bet…better male than any of you could ever hope to be, has treated me better than any of you. I’ll gladly no longer be your daughter.”

She felt the sting of tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't try to wipe them away. She just stared back at her family, daring them to say more. There was a short moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

She should have expected it. Her mother had always been quick to slap her if she did anything anything that she didn’t like.

Just this time…her hand didn’t make contact.

Sky stared at the tendril of shadows that jerked her mother’s hand back, having suddenly appeared. 

*You. Will. Not. Lay. A. Finger. On. Her,* the shadows hissed menacingly.

Sky stared at the shadows, her eyes widening in shock. They were angry. No. Furious. Utterly and completely furious. Her mother seemed equally taken aback, her hand still outstretched in the air where the shadows had stopped her.

Orin looked like he was about to piss himself, and her father…her father stared at the shadows, his face ashen.

“Come here,” Sky said quietly.

The shadows left her mother to come swarming to her, brushing over her cheek in greeting before wrapping themselves around her neck in a clearly possessive move.

Sky felt the familiar warmth of the shadows sink into her, a small bit of comfort in this awful situation. She turned to her family, her jaw set.

"I’m…I’m never coming back," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. And with that, she turned and walked away, She had only taken a handful of steps when she stopped and turned back, one last thing needing to be said, before she closed the door on this chapter of her life forever.

"I never want to see any of you again," she said, her voice shaking only slightly. "And when we have children, don’t you dare come and ask to have anything to do with them. You don’t deserve to even breath the same air as my mate."

With that, she turned and walked away, her head held high. 

***

Whatever went on between sky and her family…it wasn’t good. He could feel that in the bond slumbering underneath his breast bone.

He rubbed it absentmindly, staring in the flickering flame of the Birchin.

He had won that Snowball fight. Once more. One more victory to add to it.  Not that he particularly cared right now.

*Is she alright?* he asked the shadows.

The shadows were…quiet. And that spoke volumes. Something wasn't right. Azriel's heart pounded against his chest, his instincts urging him to act. He had to make sure Sky was alright. He couldn't stand to think about her being in any sort of trouble.

*Physicallly unharmed,* the shadows promised. *Her family is horrible,* they told him distastefully. 

Azriel's heart clenched at the shadow’s words. While it was a small relief that Sky wasn't physically hurt…her family being horrible made him want to grimace. 

“Alright, I had it!” Cassian snapped at that moment. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Azriel turned to his brother, seeing Cassian watch Rhys and himself with an expression of…something. Exasperation maybe.

"What do you mean?" Azriel asked, his voice even, feigning ignorance. He was really not in the mood to get into that either. But apparently he wasn’t going to get that small bit of mercy. 

"Don’t play dumb with me, brother," Cassian said, rolling his eyes. "You are both moody and more distant than usual. What the heck happened?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Azriel said flatly. Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Rhys?” Cassian demanded with a sigh. 

“You want to explain or shall I?” Rhys addressed him and Azriel just looked at him flatly.

“You gave the orders, High Lord.”

If Azriel had been in a better mood, he would have smirked. But right now, he just wanted this whole conversation to be over so he could check on Sky. The thought of her made his chest ache. He longed to see her, to hold her, to make sure she's alright. But he knew that Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Azriel and I…had a disagreement about Elain.” Azriel just stared at Rhys blankly. Seriously, that was the best Rhys could come up with? That’s what he wanted to go with?!

"A disagreement?" Cassian asked, brows raised. "What kind of disagreement? A 'we came to an agreement' kind of disagreement, or a 'we punched each other in the face' disagreement?"

“A ‘Rhys sticks his nose into things that are none of his business’ disagreement,” Azriel gave back drily.

“Excuse me, you were going to kiss ELain while her mate was under the same roof two years ago. Did you ever even consider the political ramifications of that?” Rhys snapped. “For gods sake, Azriel!”

Azriel's jaw clenched at Rhys's words, his temper flaring even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. "You think I didn't consider the consequences? Of course, I did," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "But feelings aren't logical, Rhys. We don't choose who we fall for, and it's not as simple as calculating political ramifications."

“I told Azriel to keep away from Elain. She fell for Lucien. He’s still moping about it and giving me the fault,” Rhys said flatly. “Out of pure interest, how much longer do you want to keep up with that, Az?”

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that burst out od his mouth at that.

“You didn’t just fucking tell me to keep away from her. You told me and I quote ‘If you need to fuck somebody go to a pleasure hall and pay for it’,” Azriel repeated viciously.

"And I stand by that," Rhys snapped. "The last thing we need is for you to pine over someone who has made it clear where she stands. Elain has her mate, and she doesn't return your feelings. She’s married for gods’ sake!”

“Whoa!” Cassian cut them off. “What the fuck, Rhys?!”

"What?" Rhys demanded, glaring at Cassian.

Cassian gave him an incredulous look. "You told Azriel to go to a pleasure hall? Seriously?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Rhys said, his jaw clenching.

"Helpful?" Cassian asked incrediously. "Helpful would have been to be a little more understanding towards your brother's feelings. He does have them, you know,” Cassian said sarcastically. 

"I know that," Rhys snapped. "But he needs to move on. It's not healthy to keep pining after someone who doesn't return his feelings."

“Where was this opinion for the 500 years of me pining after Mor?” Azriel snapped. 

Rhys's expression darkened. "Don't do that, Azriel. Don't bring Mor into this. She's not relevant to this discussion."

”Not relevant?” Azriel gave back with a laugh. “I think she’s very relevant. You don’t trust me to act like an adult about my feelings. You ordered me to behave like I am some kind of rabid dog. More than once, more than twice. Constantly. Like I would ever do anything to put Mor and Emerie’s relationship into jeopardy. Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll behave. I’ll leave Mor and Elain alone. .”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "This is not about Mor, Azriel. This is about keeping the peace within our Inner Circle. Elain has her own life and her own happiness to think about. Interfering could only bring pain, not just for you, but for everyone involved. That’s why I ordered you to keep your distance. Not because I don’t trust your feelings or your actions, but because sometimes even the best intentions can have unintended consequences."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't give me any of your high and mighty bullshit, Rhysand. You don’t think I am good enough for Mor, and you certainly don't think I am good enough for Elain. But don’t worry, I'll keep my distance, as ordered. I wouldn't want to risk upsetting your perfect little court or ruining your plans for peace. Just tell me who else is off limits, so I know who else I'm not good enough for. Maybe Gwyn? Because remember, ‘don’t you dare to pressure her’?"

Rhys sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "Azriel, it's not about who you're 'good enough' for and who you aren't. It's about respecting people's choices and boundaries. Elain has made her choice in Lucien, and I just want to protect her and the peace we've worked so hard to maintain. And no, nobody else is off limits. You're free to…'seek your entertainment' as you please."

His entertainment. 

Right. 

Azriel snorted, the sound full of derision. “It warms my heart that you give me that permission,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rhys rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Azriel's reaction. "I'm not trying to 'give you permission,' Azriel," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you understand why I'm asking you to behave. I care about you and our inner circle. You're my brother, but I also care about Elain and her happiness. I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

“Have I done anything, anything at all that put her happiness in jeopardy?” Azriel asked, his voices harsh. “I kept away as you ordered. I fucking saved Lucien’s life, so she could be happy.”

"You haven't done anything wrong," Rhys acknowledged, his tone softening. "You've been a better friend to Elain than anyone could have asked. You saved Luicen because you are a good person, not just for Elain's sake. But I still think it’s best if you keep your distance. Not just for her, but for yourself too. Dwelling on feelings that can’t be returned will only bring you pain."

“For cauldron’s sake, Rhys,” Cassian said with a sigh.

Rhys turned his attention to him, the exasperation clear in his eyes. "What, Cassian?" he asked, his tone weary.

Cassian rubbed a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. "You’re so hell bent on keeping the peace you forget that the people in your court have feelings too," he said. "Azriel isn’t some emotionless soldier doing your bidding. He has feelings and desires, just like everyone else. And sometimes it’s not as simple as just moving on."

"I know that," Rhys said, running a hand through his hair. "But sometimes we have to put our own feelings aside for the greater good. As a High Lord, I have to think about the impact my actions could have on others. I'm not trying to shut down Azriel's feelings. I'm just trying to protect him from potential pain.”

“Yeah you did a shitty job at that,” Cassian said drily. “You could have told Mor hundred of years ago to have a conversation with him. You didn’t. But Azriel is supposed to tread carefully not to make her or Emerie uncomfortable. Azriel is supposed to behave?”

Rhys's eyes flashed in anger. "I know I've made mistakes, Cassian. I should have handled things differently with Mor and Azriel. But I can't change the past. All I can do is try to make the best decisions for everyone involved right now."

“You don’t even fucking realise how much of a self important hypocritical asshole you are, do you?” Azriel asked flatly. “It’s okay for you to pursue an engaged female that’s engaged to another High Lord, damn the consequences. But the rest of us…we are told to behave.”

Rhys bristled at Azriel’s words, his own temper threatening to flare. "That's different, Azriel," he said, his voice sharp. "That’s different and you know it. You would understand if you had a…” he hesitated.

"If I had a what?" Azriel prompted sharply.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, his fingers clenching around his mug. "A mate."

“Rhys,” Cassian said carefully.

"What?" Rhys snapped, his temper still simmering just below the surface. “He doesn’t have a mate, he doesn’t fucking understand it.”

Aaaaaand…. Azriel was done.

So fucking done. 

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood up.

“Home,” Azriel said flatly. “You have my gifts, hand them out. Wish Feyre a Happy Birthday, will you? I’ll be back to do your bidding in about 3 days, High Lord.” 

“I highly doubt that your mother will enjoy your impromptu appearance at Rosehall,” Rhys said. Azriel’s hand twitched towards Truthteller. “Let’s just…”

“Rhysand!” Cassian snapped.

“What?” Rhys asked. 

“I have talked to my mother once since the Sealing of Velaris was lifted,” Azriel said tightly. “One conversation where she told me that she found a new family and that I should keep away from her. So no, Rhys. I am not going to Rosehall.”

Rhys looked utterly shell-shocked by Azriel’s revelation. "Azriel, I..." he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he said. "Just don't." He didn’t wnat to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about that. His mother could do whatever she wanted. he would leave her alone, just as requested. But he was not going to talk about it. 

“Then I am coming with you. You are not spending Winter Solstice alone brooding at the House of Wind,” Cassian said quickly, standing. 

“I am not going to the House of Wind either.” Azriel answered flatly. “I am going home to my house and I won’t be alone either.”

"What do you mean you won't be alone?" Rhys asked sharply.

Azriel just snorted, “My mate will be there,” he said simply. “She’s better company than any of you.”

“Your...your mate?” Rhys repeated, his eyes widening.

Cassian gaped at Azriel. "Your mate? Why didn’t you tell us? Who is she?"

“Why should I tell you? ” Azriel gave back his voice icy. “I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”

[lady-embers]

1286 days since- “you’re the new ribbon, az.” 🤭

🤭 Ooo I got another one.....

1286 days since - "See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger" 🤭

Love the inside joke between them 😉

[kt-reads-things]

Azriel Week Day 5 - No Need for Poetry

@azrielappreciationweek

I know there are a few different ways to approach a prompt like this one — Azriel’s classical good looks, broody-bat charm, or often-discussed wingspan could easily do all the work for him instead of resorting to poetry. However, in what I imagine for his future love story, he won’t need to resort to poetry because he’s going to be the pursued instead of the pursuer. Nesta has already dubbed Azriel as Gwyn’s new ribbon & I think Gwyn is going to surprise Azriel with the same love, acceptance, and fierce loyalty shown to Nesta.

All that said, here’s Azriel on the receiving end of a surprise kiss from Gwyn after a casual stroll around Velaris. The spark in his chest might just explode after this one ✨

Thank you to the incredible mangomangoj on Instagram for fitting me in for this one. It’s always a pleasure working with you & you blow me away every time.

[tato-acm]

GWYN COME GET YOUR NEW RIBBON 🎀

GWYN'S NEW RIBBON... AKA AZRIEL ... AKA SHADOWSINGER .... AND BROODY BAT

Artist Kloartz gave our hearts something to keep ticking with this fanart 💙... do check her IG page out and give her lots of love

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Character death and canon typical violence/graphic descriptions.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was the sound and smell that really got to you. The crackle of bones snapping and the stretching of skin and the slick squelch of new flesh as it grew into place. The scent of burning curtains and couch stuffing and meat so thick in the air Emerie could only lean over and vomit into the fireplace. 

Through the smoke and the haze you saw barbs sprout from Vassa’s skin like needles before splitting down the middle to reveal sickly red feathers. Putrid flowers crawling their way through the dirt. 

She fell to the ground, convulsing with pain and anguish as she transformed.  

“VASSA!” Lucien roared. He threw his arm over his face, magic bursting forth in a protective shield around you and Azriel. His russet eyes reflected the flames that licked at his skin and hair, fighting and absorbing the power that flashed throughout the room. 

From the corner of your eye you saw Feyre use her own spark of Autumn’s magic. The flames took on the shape of wolves and threw themselves over Mor, Gwyn, Emerie, and Elain in a protective huddle. 

Vassa’s screams thinned out into one long screech and the beating of her wings sent another wave of heat through the room.

Azriel pressed you further against the ground as she took off, flying so close overhead that the sweat frying your skin evaporated and the tips of Azriel’s hair singed off. 

Cassian swore, drawing out the short sword he always kept on him as he shielded Ione’s body from the worst of the initial blast, wings out and glaring siphon red in the shape of shield.

Vassa sank her claws into his back, latching onto leather armour and ripping him off the old woman. Her wings took up the length of the room, trailing ribbons of blue and scarlet fire as she finally descended on her prize. 

Ione was no stranger to death. She did not fear it as some might have expected her to. She’d seen friends and family ruthlessly murdered. Experienced loss of a kind that the fae could not comprehend with their long lives. Maybe that was the reason she fought so little when Vassa’s talons closed over her arms and lifted her into the air. 

Rhysand roared, night triumphant rumbling over the floors like an earthquake as darkness spilled from his hands.

But he was too late. 

Vassa crashed through the window with Ione in tow. Glass and fragments of the supporting wall crumbled down in a chorus of cries that tore through your spine as shadows swarmed overhead. Reaching, reaching, reaching after the firebird and the woman she carried higher and higher up into the sky. 

Cassian rolled to his feet, leaping after them with a furious beat of his wings that sent shards of glass skittering over the floor and dust flying into your eyes. 

Azriel scrambled to his feet, hauling you up with him. You dragged your nails over his arms, blinking through smoke-filled eyes as you coughed. 

All around you the House was burning. 

“Are you ok?!” He shook you, hands coming up to your face. He was split between two choices — stay with you, or go get Ione. 

“Go. Go! I’m fine,” you rasped, lifting your sleeve up to your nose and mouth as your eyes streamed with tears. Azriel hesitated, hearing your hacking coughs even as you pushed him towards the gaping wound of the House. Cassian continued to shrink into the distance, red light searing past Vassa’s feathers as she desperately dodged his attacks. 

He wouldn’t go for a killing blow. Not when she was carrying such precious cargo. 

“Just go! If Koschei gets his hands on Ione, we’re all dead!” You erupted in another fit of coughs.

Fuck.

“Stay with Lucien,” Azriel said.

“Yes, yes. Now go!” You gave him one final shove.

Azriel swore beneath his breath, turned, and raced towards the window with his wings ready to unfurl before disappearing in a flurry of smoke. 

Misunderstanding — that was what made Shadowsingers so dangerous. Not their silence. Not the tendrils of darkness they commanded, but how little anyone knew of them and where they came from.

Illyrians, by nature, couldn’t winnow. It was one of the simple, unexplainable facts of their world. As immutable as gravity. As intrinsic as the magic that flowed through their land like a bottomless sea. And despite all the rules Azriel had broken, and would break, in his life — all the contradictions he flirted with like it was a game — he was, first and foremost, an Illyrian.

He did not winnow. 

Winnowing was simple.

Winnowing happened when you folded the fabric of the world in half like a piece of paper and stretched that fabric thin enough to pass through. It was instantaneous. One moment you had both feet planted in one place, the next moment in another. 

What Azriel did was wholly different. 

Because when he “winnowed,” he actually went somewhere else first. 

When he was running away from you, he was moving towards an opening only he could see. A black, flickering spot that grew and grew and grew until it swallowed him whole and he felt himself fall into a different realm. 

The sounds of shouting and feet trampling over glass disappeared with a whisper and he dove into the silence, feeling shadows slip over him like water. 

When he’d first shadow-traveled, it had been an accident. He’d been young and desperate to escape the cramped confines of his bed in the Windhaven barracks. He would never miss his time spent in the cellar, but at least there it had been quiet. At least there he could commune with his shadows in private. Accommodations in the Windhaven barracks were a poor imitation of horse stables — tiny bedrooms lined up with just enough space for growing wings and walls that didn’t reach the ceiling. Boys would peer over the walls at him like an animal on display, throwing food and boasting their strong wings while his lay on the floor like crumpled paper. 

To this day he didn’t quite know where he went when he shadow-traveled. All he knew was that in this world of black sand, cracked rock, and perpetual music, beings roamed free that answered to him and only him. Creatures both same and different to the shadows he commanded in Prythian. They crowded around him, welcoming him home and blocking out the background hums of someone’s sweet singing as the light of three moons cast their silvery net over the Shadowsinger.

The plan is working.

Why have you left her behind? 

The firebird is nearing the edges of your borders. 

Your mate is safe. She remains by her brother’s side.

He listened to their reports, gliding through the still air and watching as a familiar light opened up ahead of him. A fourth moon that wasn’t a moon at all, but a light back home. Through the opening he saw a blue sky raked with fire as Vassa turned onto her back, careening through the air like a firework and opening her mouth wide. 

She’s endowed with new powers. Be cautious, Shadowsinger.

Your brother is on your left. 

What had felt like minutes flying through this darkness vanished into nothing. The time he’d spent in this realm never passed on Prythian. To anyone watching him, they’d think he disappeared from the House and reappeared here, hundreds of feet above the earth.

But things were better this way. When he traveled with his shadows, he had time to gather his thoughts and anticipate the fight ahead.

Quick! Get the warlord.

And he had help.

NOW!

Azriel shattered the boundaries of the world in an explosion of shadow, careening into Cassian’s side and knocking him off course just as Vassa spit out a ball of flame. Azriel heard Cassian’s shout in his ear as they tumbled through the air together in a tangle of wings. He felt the heat that had come close to scorching his back.

I am not that little boy. Not anymore. Azriel promised himself

The warlord grasped the harness hidden in the back of Azriel’s armor just between the shoulder blades, using the momentum of their fall to throw him back towards Vassa. 

The Sidra glowed beneath him, the mouth of the river stretching wide as it prepared to feed the sea. Another mile, and the protections surrounding Velaris would fall away. Who knew what would happen to Ione and Vassa then? 

Azriel saw the distance between them narrow. Vassa’s body could only be propped up by so much magic. Feathers continued to strip themselves from her body, curling inwards as they fell like paper left too close to a flame. 

Ione flailed in Vassa’s clutches, iron cane still held tightly in her hand as she twisted and turned at the mercy of Vassa’s frantic flight maneuvers. 

The firebird squawked in panic when she felt the first cold licks of Azriel’s shadows creep up her wings. They hissed and smarted upon first contact with her fiery feathers, before eating away at her magic like ravenous beasts. 

But she also understood hunger. It was hunger that had driven her to take Ione. It was hunger that had forced her to turn. Hunger for the kind of magic that only Koschei could grant her when she was back in his malignant embrace.

To Azriel’s horror, Vassa twisted in the air and flung Ione down with a shriek. 

The old woman’s face twisted in shock, her scream choked by wind as her stomach flew into her throat and the burning pressure in her arms gave way to freefall. 

Azriel didn’t hesitate. He dove down, reaching out with two scarred hands.

For one brief moment they were falling together. 

Ione saw the firebird change direction and aim right at Azriel, slipping into the blindspots of his vision. Ione looked him dead in the eye and gave the faintest nod. 

Azriel tucked his wings in close and veered off course at the last second, rolling with the impact of Vassa’s wing slamming into his side and feeling the burn when his leathers caught fire.

Somewhere in the wind, Cassian roared. 

Vassa caught Ione and fled beyond the borders of Velaris.

And Azriel fell.

And fell. 

And fell.

A comet.

And disappeared into the ocean. 

Feyre stood in the center of the House, hands raised and eyes alight as fires leapt up the walls and swallowed the curtains. With one fell swoosh they vanished, wind rushing in through the battered side of the House and sweeping away the ash and smoke until the air tasted clean again.

She raised a trembling hand and with one decisive snap of her fingers the worst of the damage vanished, leaving behind the skeletal remains of their once lovely living room. 

“Mor.” The High Lady rasped. 

The blonde female stood to attention, cheeks stained grey, and brown eyes flaring with rage. People liked to think she was just a pretty face — a diplomat or a soothing presence. But right now, she was out for blood and she could smell it coming in the air. 

“Go tell Helion and the others. We meet at Thesan’s as planned.” 

Mor nodded and grabbed Emerie’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze as the Illyrian shook off the worst of her sickness. Her stomach, now empty, twisted. Mor kissed Emerie’s dark hair, whispering promises that they’d see each other again soon. Then it was only a matter of folding the universe in half and stepping into Helion’s palace to the sight of two dozen golden warriors. 

Emerie blinked and her wife was gone.

Rhys stood by the staircase with Gwyn, touching the crown of her head and showing her his most treasured prize. Beneath the fabric of her priestess robes, a new bargain tattoo was being written onto the skin of her ribs. Until their parents’ safe return, Gwyn would protect Nyx and Velaria with her life. No force, natural or otherwise, would keep her from her goal, and those that sought to harm her charges would meet their end on her blade. 

In the privacy of her room she donned the armour of the Valkyries and knelt down at the small altar carved into the wall. She touched the smooth white stone at the center and prayed to the Mother for strength and protection and health. She lit a red candle and dripped the wax onto the blade of her sword and polished it clean, reciting her prayers beneath her breath. 

What seeks to break me will fail. I am a protector. I have always been a protector. And that is what I will always be. It is written in my blood and in my bones, but where I was strong in my spirit, I am now strong in my body.

She stood with her sword in her hands.

I am the rock against which the surf crashes.

Tucked away in a cabin in the Illyrian Steppes, Nyx stood in front of his wooden soldier, practice sword clutched in his hand as he danced around the immobile warrior with a crease in his brow identical to Feyre’s. Every so often he would look over his shoulder at the female sitting on the floor, searching her silver eyes for that hint of pride she hid so well. 

Velaria lay in the crook of her arm, soft fingers tangled in the layers of gold and jewels that hung heavy from her slim, straight neck. Her eyes narrowed as she saw beyond the confines of the cabin into Rhysand’s mind. 

It’s happened hasn’t it? She asked knowingly. 

Yes.

And which one will you be sending to the children and I, boy?

Gwyn.

A good choice. I like that one.

Rhysand smiled tightly, feeling that knot in his chest loosen. No matter what happened, his children would be protected. They’d survive. 

As if sensing what the High Lord needed, Amren looked down at the child swaddled in her arms, allowing Rhysand the relief of seeing his children even if he couldn’t be there to hold them himself. 

Nyx, ever the precocious child, stopped his play-fighting and looked towards his aunt. 

He was still young but greatness hovered over his shoulder like a vulture ready to descend upon his innocence the moment he came of age. It frightened Rhysand to no end. 

Please, keep them safe.

Amren’s mind flickered with something like indignation and she clutched Velaria closer to her chest. It wasn’t maternal instinct that drove her, but something else. Something more feral and possessive. 

I have protected you and your family for centuries. I have killed for you and I died for you when I had far more to lose than just this mortal body. Do you truly believe I will fail you now?

No, Amren. No I do not. 

You raced up the steps after Lucien, smoke settling into your lungs as you wheezed and tried keeping up with his long, frantic strides. Vassa’s bloody footprints and a trail of burnt blue-orange feathers marked her descent. 

“JURIAN!” 

Lucien called his friend’s name the whole way up, praying to the gods that he’d hear a response. The air cleared the higher you went through the House until finally you stood at the base of the attic steps. 

The door stared down from above. Neatly closed. Unassuming. Vassa had shut it calmly before walking down. Or maybe she just couldn’t bear to look at the scene she’d left behind. 

Lucien burst through the silent, unblinking door and stopped dead in his tracks.

The first thing you saw from around his shoulder was the mangled remnants of the birdcage. Its side had been ripped open like ribs, cushion stuffing and blanket fragments spewing out. Claw marks decorated the walls and you detected the cling of iron in the air through your burning nostrils.

“Lucien?” Your voice shook.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move past the edges of the room. 

When you went to move around his frame, he gripped your arm and covered the way. 

Jurian’s body lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling in a neat circle around him like he’d been blotted out with a red pen. His right arm was in tatters and three long gashes split him from the temple to his hip. His pearly white winked cruelly. The hazy afternoon sun settled on the dust in the air. 

He must have gotten too close to Vassa not realizing that she was too far gone for even him to help. Maybe she’d done it intentionally as a means of escape, thinking that Jurian was her jailor. But maybe it had all been an accident. The wrong turn of her talons as the pain of her transformation took over. 

The method did not matter. Nor did the reason. 

Because Jurian was dead. 

Lucien crumbled to his knees, sinking into the carpet and feeling nothing and you…

It took everything within you not to scream. You pressed down on the feeling. Down. Down. Down. Burying it deep beneath layers of willpower and practice. 

You walked over to the windows, feeling hatred at the sun for shining down with its yellow light, and ripped the curtains off their rings with a metallic clang. 

Jurian looked up at the ceiling with glistening eyes. Somehow, even in death, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face — proud, mischievous, and a little wild. A sign of the charismatic general he’d been by Vassa’s side and long before then. You covered that smile carefully, ignoring the squelch of your shoes when you stepped into the circle of blood. 

Something in Lucien cracked open when the curtain fell into place.

He finally screamed. Hands and knees braced on the floor. Face twisted in pain. 

You clapped your hands over your ears, tears streaming down your cheeks as you willed the sound to stop. 

“Lucien—” Elain skidded to halt at the doorway, the mass of pink fabric around her waist swishing once then falling still. She looked at the outline of Jurian. She looked at you. Then she fell to her knees, pulling Lucien’s body into her lap and whispering his name. The initial silence stretching across the bond had terrified her. Hearing him scream and the heartbreak that followed after had sent her running. 

Lucien collapsed against her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the flesh of her stomach. She cradled his head in one arm, the other splayed over his back as he wept.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped through her own tears. “I’m so so sorry, Lucien.”

He cried. 

And cried. 

And cried. 

You and Elain heard the shouting from downstairs as a collection of Cassian’s most trusted Valkyries and Illyrian warriors assembled on the lawn. Emerie stood among them, her seconds helping to tie the leather straps of her armour into place as she barked orders left and right. 

Elain looked towards you. The fight to come left no time for grief. Not even Lucien was exempt from that. 

You moved in front of your brother, blocking the sight of the curtains on the floor.

“Lucien,” you begged. Your brother’s bloodshot eye looked at you from the crook of Elain’s arm. “We need to get ready. We need to go.” 

“I can’t… I can’t just leave him. I can’t leave him to rot in this room. I can’t—” 

“I’ll take care of him,” Elain promised. She looked down at her mate. “You can trust me with him, Lucien.” 

He said nothing, but together you and Elain helped him up to his feet, and Elain — beautiful, lovely Elain — stood on the tips of her feet to kiss her mate’s tear-stained cheek. She tasted the salt on her tongue and felt the burning of unshed tears in her own eyes. 

“I’ll bury him somewhere calm in a bed of marigold and poppy.” Fiery, resilient flowers to remind Jurian of the woman he had loved. “And when you and Vassa return we will have a proper goodbye. I promise.”

He took a deep, trembling breath and whispered, “Thank you, Elain.” 

You let him lean against you, let him bury his face in your hair to escape the smell of blood and death, and walked with him downstairs. 

After you and Lucien were gone and Elain stood alone in the presence of the dead, she rolled up her pale pink sleeves, tied off the length of her dress and prepared for a new garden. 

Azriel was soaking wet and aching as he flew up to the House of Wind. Salt stripped his hair of moisture and the strands dried hard and tacky against his scalp. 

“Did you need to make such a dramatic exit?” Cassian snapped when they landed on the balcony. “I thought she’d killed you.”

Azriel moved through the House without even looking, charred leather flaking off his shoulders and floating to the ground as he walked. His wings were sore and tender from the heat, along with his ribs and shoulder from when Vassa had first barreled into him and then when he’d landed in the Sidra. 

“We needed to make it look real, remember?” Azriel answered smoothly.

It had always been part of the plan to let Vassa take Ione if she attempted it, but they couldn’t let her go without a fight or Koschei would find it suspicious. Even so, Azriel hated to admit that he’d been distracted thinking about you. If he’d been any slower today he might have lost his wings. 

“Well you did your job too well.” Cassian growled. 

Azriel dipped into his room, quickly stripping out of his clothes and donning new leathers before he and Cassian set off once again deep into the mountain.

They stopped in front of a grey wood door, and Azriel knocked twice. Paused. Knocked thrice. Paused. Then knocked twelve times. 

Ione — the real Ione — opened the door.

Feyre had inherited many gifts from the seven High Lords of Prythian — her healing touch, her water wolves, her mastery over flame and light and dark. But one of her least used gifts had been glamouring people from her Court… until now.

It had taken her half a dozen portraits to familiarize herself with every subtle valley and curve of Ione’s face, and double the number of attempts before she’d successfully woven Nesta’s features into a perfect copy. You’d swooped in for the final steps, using your knowledge and magic to dampen Nesta’s magical signature until even Cassian couldn’t tell when it was Nesta or Ione standing in front of him without relying on the mating bond.

“Has it happened?” The old woman asked gravely, pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders.

Azriel nodded. “Vassa took the bait.” 

As they spoke, the mortal queen was carrying a disguised Nesta to the Continent where she’d be a hidden weapon in enemy territory. Koschei wouldn’t even know he’d been delivered the wrong prize. 

At least that was the hope.

They brought Ione down to the House, and Azriel forced the woman into a brisk walk, weaving through the small collection of fae in search of you. You stood by Feyre and Rhysand close to the river, one arm kept tight around Lucien’s and a new satchel slung over your back. You kept glancing over at your brother, watching as he did what he could to compose himself. 

“Y/n.” 

One small word spoken from his lips and your eyes were latching onto him. There was a question in his eyes as he looked first at your pale face, and then at Lucien. The trembling of your hands and the shake of your head was all he needed. 

Jurian was gone. 

Azriel swallowed, stopping in front of the male he’d once hated so unfairly and feeling shame. “Lucien, I’m so—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll rip your tongue out,” Lucien seethed, his eyes flat and hard as stone. The despair had given away to fury before Jurian’s body was even cold and suddenly Lucien was itching to be on the Continent. To feel Koschei’s blood on his hands. 

It wasn’t too late to save Vassa. It wasn’t too late to get his friend back. 

“You can feel pity for me when this is over.” 

There were only a dozen fae crowded around Feyre and Rhysand, but you could feel every wave of power that rippled off their skin, the electricity they shot into the air as they bounced on the pads of their feet and loosened their muscles. 

You found yourself pressed between Azriel and Lucien, the Shadowsinger’s hand balanced on the small of your back. Ione stood in front of you, your hand laid protectively on her shoulder, and a Valkyrie stood behind. She had her corn yellow hair braided around her head in a crown of gold, and stretching out from the slits in her armor fluttered the black and orange wings of a butterfly.

“Techaria,” she introduced herself with a smile and a handshake. “I’ve been assigned to you and Ione.” 

Techaria never left your side, standing firmly at your back after Rhysand winnowed you all to the Dawn Court and the crowd swelled to nearly a hundred. 

You were miles away from the Dawn Palace — the ocean at your front and a sea of frost-tinged grasses at your back. The air buzzed with excitement and dread and no small amount of bloodlust. 

You caught glimpses of the shimmering High Lord of Dawn and the hawk-winged peregryn soldier who held his hand as he dispensed final healing touches. He would not be among the seven High Lords and High Ladies leaving for the Continent. 

The High Lord and High Lady of Winter stood glistening like a pair of crystalline figures beside one of the coast’s watchtowers. White-haired warriors of frost and starshine bobbed around like snowfall and you struggled not to tremble in the presence of the three armored polar bears among their ranks. Eris’s males were similarly easy to spot with their burnished copper armour and their battle hounds hovering at their shoulders. Azriel stepped in between you and one of the beasts, froth pouring from between razor sharp teeth as it growled in your direction for staring too long.

A Summer soldier shoved past, earning himself a glower from Techaria and Azriel as he grabbed another female and drew her into one last passionate kiss. The seashell necklaces they wore clattered as they met, evidence of the dozens of battles they’d survived together. 

It wasn’t an uncommon sight as the crowd quickly split apart at the orders of their High Lords and High Ladies, coalescing into pre-determined divisions that sometimes asked mated pairs to separate. In foreign territory against a mysterious god, communications through their bonds would be indispensable. 

You saw an Autumn Court male — one of the High Lord’s brothers by the name of Castor — break away from his group. He ran towards a willowy Spring nymph two divisions over and slipped a ring into their pocket. 

Their blue eyes blew open in surprise, cries of protest smothered by a firm kiss before he whispered, “I have my High Lord’s blessing. When this is over, I’ll propose to you properly, but you’ll keep this safe in the meantime, won’t you?” 

The nymph sputtered, then nodded when words failed them. Just as quickly as he had come, Castor sprinted back to his men and his division disappeared before your eyes. They were the first to winnow to the Continent.

Lucien folded you into a back-breaking hug. “Stay safe.” Your brother commanded. You heard the tightness in his voice. He’d be staying with Feyre and Rhysand to lead one of the main charges alongside Eris and Tarquin. “I can’t lose you as well.”  

“I’ll come back so long as you do.” 

You squeezed him hard enough to crack ribs, but Lucien wished it had lasted longer. He dove into the parting wave of bodies and vanished. 

You felt your throat tighten as you turned to face the goodbye you’d been dreading the most. 

“Az, I—” 

He silenced you with a kiss, sliding his tongue over your lips for one last taste. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He refused to accept the possibility that you wouldn’t return to each other.

He pulled away so quickly your head spun. 

“I’ll be with the second division,” he breathed out, “Near the southwest corner, not even a mile away from you.” The map flashed in your mind with all its little figurines spread out like a chess game. “Remember what we talked about?” 

If things go wrong, find me so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.

You nodded fervently. 

Someone in the crowd was calling his name. Maybe Cassian? You couldn’t pay attention to anything other than the hazel eyes burning into you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but suddenly his brother was there grabbing his arm and hauling him away towards the second division. Red and blue siphons flashed in the grey light and then the pair were gone. 

The crowd thinned as more groups began winnowing away to the Continent. One second there. The next second, gone.

“We need to go, my Lady,” Techaria said gently, but firmly. She’d given you both your privacy and a few precious seconds, but that time was over now. 

You nodded, not able to look away from the empty space Azriel had occupied. 

“He’ll be fine, girl,” Ione said, taking Techaria’s hand. She wore thin, chainmail armour enchanted to feel weightless and a glamoured veil over her features. You caught glimpses of her true face out of the corner of your eyes, but direct eye contact and her face blurred and warped into something unnatural. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

Your stomach dropped when you realized you never did say goodbye to Azriel.

You felt Techaria’s calloused palm slide into yours and then you were gone.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Yeah guys, RIP Jurian. As I said in a previous post, one of my qualms with SJM is that she doesn't let characters stay dead. I want y'all to know, Jurian is gone. Sorry............ he wasn't even in the story for very long and didn't do much but I'm going to miss him.

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable IV - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

a/n: ahhh guys I literally love all of you so much. Thanks for all the love and support on this story!! Hope you enjoy this one just as much!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part IV

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You stared at yourself in the mirror, quite happy with that way you looked. You were getting ready to make a trip to Hewn City with the rest of the Inner Circle, so you could be announced as their new Overseer. Already donning your mask, a mask you wore just as well as your brother could. You were, after all, raised by the same cruel, unflinching male. After your father died, Rhys had made sure to continue teaching you how to handle the unsavory parts of the Night Court as best he could. 

So you had put on a dress that demanded attention. It was Night Court black, of course, with a halter top bodice that connected to a high neck collar. Starting from just below your breasts, the dress was cut into two panels to cover your front and back, laced together with a black ribbon on the sides. It clung to your curves and showed off more skin than you usually did. 

The entire side of your legs, your hip bone and waist, all exposed and accentuated by the dress. Some kohl liner brought your star-flecked, violet eyes to life. Your hair was curled and spilled down your back freely. You felt beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. The Princess of Night. 

You finished the look with the diadem your brother had given you. It was made of Illyrian metal with dark red jewels decorating the intricately twisted vines. It was perfect for the Court of Nightmares. 

As you made your way down the stairs, you could already feel the disapproving stare of your brother. Only him and Cassian were waiting in the foyer. Cass was in his Illyrian leathers and your brother was wearing a finely tailored black coat and pants with his own crown on his head. 

“Nice try, dove,” Rhys chided. “Go back upstairs and change into the dress I had Nuala lay out for you this morning.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No. I bought this one specifically for today and I’m going to wear it.”

“No, you’re not.” Cass snorted as Rhys tried to assert his dominance. “Go change. Now.” 

“No. I’m wearing this. You can’t make me change my mind.”

“Oh, I can make you,” your brother sneered. He could, you supposed, use his High Lord voice to order you to change. And then you literally wouldn’t be able to refuse.

Before he could though, you shouted for his mate. “Feyre!”

Your High Lady and sister-in-law walked into the room with a baby Nyx on her hip. She was wearing a beautiful, glimmering black dress that fell in a deep v to her navel. Slits on both sides of the skirt exposing her legs and a twin crown to the one Rhys was wearing sat on her head. Nyx was also dressed in black with a tiny version of their crown on his own head. The sight of them both was too adorable. 

“What’s going on out here?” Feyre asked, sliding up to Rhys’s side. He strung an arm around her, pulling her and his son close. 

You gave your brother a cheeky grin. “Your mate wants me to go change because he’s a big, overprotective, insufferable bat.” 

Your brother glared at you as Feyre smacked his arm. “Leave your sister alone, Rhys. She can wear whatever she wants.” 

The two of you shared a smile as Rhys let out a sigh of annoyance. “You know, I thought having a mate meant always having someone on your side. I would’ve never brought you here if I knew you’d end up conspiring with my sister against me all the time.” 

“You're lucky you ended up with such a smart, beautiful mate that can check you before you embarrass yourself, Rhysie,” you laughed as Feyre stuck her tongue out at him. Rhys scoffed at both of you as you giggled with each other at his reaction. 

“What are you guys giggling about out here?” Mor and Nesta walked into the room, both dressed as finely as everyone else. 

Feyre started to answer Mor but your attention drifted as Azriel appeared in the shadow of the hallway, striding towards the group. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers like Cass, all seven of his cobalt siphons on display. Azriel always looked intimidating, but even more so today as his leathers clung to his muscles and highlighted the lethality of his stone-cut face.  

His eyes immediately locked onto yours and widened as he took you in. His gaze dipped down and roamed your entire body and when he looked back up, his eyes were filled with hunger and heat, before he blinked and his cold mask was back on. You gave him no reaction, merely glancing away from him as if his presence had no effect on you. But the butterflies in your stomach begged otherwise. 

Elain came walking down the stairs at the same time, dressed in black yet way more modestly than the rest of you. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place she looked.

“You’re coming?” Nesta asked, peering at Elain in surprise. “I thought Hewn City was far too much for you delicate sensibilities.” 

Mor snorted as Elain scowled at her sister. “I’m only coming to show my support for y/n.”

She smiled at you and you gave her a grateful nod. Even if you were jealous of her for winning over the shadowsinger, you’d never blame her for him being an asshole. You also didn’t want Azriel to know you were bothered about it. You might not be as prideful as your brother was, but you’d rather suffer in complete silence than let anyone think they’ve made you feel insecure. Perhaps it was a family trait.  

“I’ve had your stuff, and Azriel’s, sent over to the Moonstone Palace already,” Rhys said as everyone congregated. “So you can spend the rest of the week getting situated with your new role as planned.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But I already asked Cass to be my escort and he agreed–”

“Cassian forgot he has other duties that I already assigned to him this week.” 

Cassian gave you a sheepish look and you let out a huff. “What about Balthazar?”

Balthazar was the Illyrian warrior who had helped Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite. He now worked closely with training the Illyrian females and helping them merge with the Valkyries. He was a good male and an excellent warrior—but more importantly, he wasn’t Azriel. 

You could feel Azriel’s stare as you kept your focus on your brother. He waved a dismissive hand. “Azriel’s already agreed and I’d rather him guard over my sister than some untested Illyrian.” 

Your hands clenched, annoyed but you nodded, not wanting your brother to get suspicious. With that, your brother winnowed the group to the gates leading into the Court of Nightmares. You took your place behind Feyre and Rhysand and Azriel slid into the space next to you as your designated guard, apparently. You managed to keep your stare straight forward as you began to walk towards the throne room.

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows cascading around your ankles. “Do you hate my presence so much now that you’d rather some random brute take my place as your guardian?” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who told me to stay away from you. I’m only doing as you asked. And Balthazar is not some random brute. He is a friend.” 

“Since when?” he hissed.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I had been helping with the training of the Illyrian females before I left for the continent. Balthazar is another one of the trainers.” 

Azriel said nothing else as your group finally entered the throne room. You could feel the stares of all the fae in the room, likely wondering why the High Lord had called for a party. You followed Rhys and Feyre to the dais, where Azriel held out a gloved hand to help you up the steps. You grabbed it, not wanting to embarrass him in front of a bunch of vultures who already thought of him as less than, and took your place behind Rhys’s throne. 

You and Feyre were the two people in your brother’s life that he had vowed would never have to bow to anyone. And he took that quite seriously. So while everyone else was forced to lower themselves to the ground, you stood at his side. 

You glanced at the crowd of people in the throne room. Your eyes widened as you noticed Eris next to Keir. You hadn’t been expecting him.

“You can rise now,” Feyre said after leaving them on the floor for a few moments. 

And then it was time for the big announcement. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The party was in full swing, music playing, faeries dancing. Despite their despise for their High Lord, the fae down here took any excuse to get up to some debauchery. You still remained at the dais next to your brother, Azriel now a step behind you, like the guardian he was supposed to be. 

Cassian stood on the other side of the dais by Feyre with Nesta, both ready to protect her and baby Nyx should they have to. Mor had claimed a table where she and Elain now sat, the latter looking uncomfortable as she peered around at the party taking place. 

Keir stood before Rhys and Feyre, a forced look of respect on his face. It seemed to almost pain him and you had to hide your grin. 

“My Lord, if I may ask, why have you decided to pass along the role of Overseer to someone as young and unpracticed as your sister?” Keir asked, his voice full of condescension. “And to do so without any input from me. It seems like an insult to us in this court—to not have one of our own be a representation for Hewn City.” 

“I think you forget yourself, Keir,” Rhys sneered. “Me and your High Lady make every decision for this court and we certainly don’t require your input nor your opinions. You will show my sister respect. She is more than capable of what her title requires of her.” 

“Can you blame me, my Lord, for having my doubts? Your sister has never dealt with court politics. It might be naive to place her in such a position.” 

You took a step forward, standing tall as you looked down at your uncle. “You seem to forget, uncle, that I was the one who ran the Night Court during my brother’s absence for fifty years. You also seem to forget that your daughter’s mercy is the only reason you are still standing here today. Watch your mouth or perhaps you will find that I do not share the same leniency towards you as she does.” 

Keir’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, but he did the smart thing by keeping his mouth shut. Though his eyes flickered towards the shadowsinger over your shoulder and a bit of fear flashed through him. Luckily, he didn’t hold your attention for long as a redhead suddenly appeared in front of you, at the bottom of the platform’s steps. 

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Eris purred, holding out his hand to you. His eyes roamed down the length of your body before they met yours. Your brother’s hands tightened on his throne’s arm rests but one look from Feyre kept his mouth shut. 

You placed your hand in his, blushing slightly as he leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Would you allow me the honor of being your first dance tonight, Princess?”

Azriel growled in warning from behind you but you ignored him, instead looking towards your brother. He gave you a slight dip of the head as permission to leave your post, so you let Eris help you down the steps. 

Eris escorted you to the dance floor just as a new song began. You let Eris begin to lead you through the dance, one hand in his and the other one on his shoulder, as his free arm looped around your waist.

“It is a surprise to see Rhysand finally letting his coveted little bird out of her cage,” Eris whispered into your ear as he twirled you around the dance floor, a devilish smirk on his face.

“He can be persuaded,” you whispered back with a feline smile of your own.

“Does that have anything to do with a shadowsinger who looks like he wants to kill me more than usual?”

As he spun you around, you couldn’t help but glance at Azriel. He had moved from his post closer to the dance floor, to keep you and Eris in his line of sight.

His eyes were narrowed, his shadows spiraling around him like snakes ready to strike, as he watched you dance with Eris. You wanted to roll your eyes at his behavior. He didn’t get to be a complete asshole to you and then act all protective. 

“It has nothing to do with the shadowsinger,” you answered, gasping as Eris yanked you closer just in time to get out of the way of another couple drunkenly dancing. “It was all my negotiating that got me my new title. So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now?” 

“It seems so, my Lady,” Eris crooned.

His amber eyes flashed to something over your shoulder and based on the smirk that spread on his face, that something was probably a certain shadowsinger. He met your gaze again, mischief sparkling on his face. 

“In fact, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with Mor in private, but I guess now that would be you, wouldn't it?” 

You nodded, peering around and noting Rhys and Feyre distracted by a line of couriers vying for their attention. Keir was off in a dark corner conversing with a male you recognized as Lord Thanatos. You looked back at Eris and he quirked an eyebrow. “It appears most everyone has their hands occupied right now. Shall we seek somewhere private after this?” 

Eris leaned down, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “I’d like that very much, Princess.” 

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes as he stood back up with a charming grin on his face. “You are as much of a flirt as your brother is,” you chided, waiting for the song to end so you could make your exit without drawing attention. 

“Don’t tell me you’re referring to little Lucien? Doesn’t he have a mate he's still pining after?” 

As you were spun again, you glanced back at Azriel, whose arms were crossed as he continued to glare in your direction. Good, you were glad he was upset. 

“Not lately,” you answered. It was true; Lucien rarely came around if Elain was present. He seemed to have given up on trying to win her attention for the time being. Perhaps he had also noticed the growing interest between her and Azriel. 

“Well I say good for him,” Eris chuckled. “A Vanserra has never had to beg a female for her heart. They merely present it to us on a platter.” 

“You are so full of it, Eris.” 

The music finally lulled to a stop and Eris let go of you, holding out his arm instead. “Allow me to prove it to you, Princess.”

You slipped a hand into the crevice of his elbow as you dipped out of the throne room before anyone could notice. Just as you had stepped into the corridor, a cold hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting the both of you. You already knew who it was before you turned around.

Azriel was seething as he glanced between the two of you. “You aren’t supposed to go anywhere without an escort, y/n. You know that.” 

You glanced at him as if he were inconveniencing you, though you knew he had followed. “I have one,” you replied, nodding your head towards Eris, who gave the shadowsinger a cunning smirk. 

“He doesn’t count,” Azriel hissed.

“Fine, then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here,” you shrugged before turning back around and leading Eris down the hallway. “Come, I know a private place we can go to.” 

You chatted with Eris as you walked, completely ignoring the angry bat that followed one step behind. Azriel was really starting to confuse you further. What the hell was he so upset about when he made his choice in Elain so clear? 

You took them down a dark, narrowed hall that looked like it was a dead end but a door appeared as you approached. It was just another secret meeting room. There were many in this court and you were familiar with most. You let Eris enter first and stood in the threshold blocking Azriel’s way. 

“Thank you, Azriel,” you said politely. “But I have it from here.” 

Azriel looked at you and then over your shoulder at Eris, his eyes full of icy rage. “Your brother has ordered me to stay with you at all times, y/n. Especially in the case of being around someone who may wish you harm.”

Eris snorted and you glanced back at him. “Hm Eris, do you plan on harming me?” 

“I was hoping to do quite the opposite, Princess.” His voice was full of wicked promise. 

Azriel growled lowly and the noise sent a shiver down your spine that you fought to cover up. “See, there’s no need for you here,” you chimed and then before he could even take a step forward, you slammed the door in his face and locked it. You quickly threw up a ward knowing he’d still try to spy with his shadows. 

Eris chuckled as he sat down on one of the plush couches. You took a seat on the one opposite, conjuring up a tray with two empty glasses and a bottle of expensive liquor on the coffee table between you. 

“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?” you asked as you poured the both of you a glass.

“Oh, there is nothing of importance for us to discuss. I just quite enjoy getting a rise out of the shadowsinger and for some reason, he seems to be particularly bothered with my proximity to you.” Eris crossed his legs and threw his arm around the back of the couch. The perfect picture of a male proud of himself. “Thank you for unintentionally helping me in my quest. I’m sure your shadowsinger thinks I’m trying to seduce you in here.”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed. “You pulled me from enjoying my own party just to make Azriel upset?”

“Oh please, we both know no one enjoys the parties down here.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “And it wasn’t the only reason. It's not very often that Rhys lets his little sister be in the presence of those he considered unsavory. Perhaps I am interested in your company as well.” 

“Well you’ve got my full, undivided attention now,” you replied, sitting back against the couch with your glass in your hand. 

Eris grabbed his glass as well, twirling it in his hand as he studied you. “So, tell me, why is it that the shadowsinger is pacing back and forth in front of the door, cursing me under his breath, as we speak?” 

“He’s an overprotective, Illyrian bat. Just like my brother and Cassian,” you said in dismissal. 

“Hm, I’m not quite sure that’s the only reason.”

“You seem to have an obsession with Azriel, Eris. Do you want me to put in a good word for you?” You gave him a brazen smile. 

“Alright, little bird, I’ll drop it. I’m far more interested in the beautiful female sitting in front of me as it is.” You hated that your cheeks turned pink at his words. Eris was handsome with his red hair and amber eyes. Even his scent of cinnamon and vetiver was enticing. But he just wasn’t Azriel. “Will you indulge me in a game of chess as we chat?”

Glad to move on from the subject, you did just that. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Alright, that’s enough—”

You were nearly three rounds deep in a game of chess when the door burst open and Azriel came stalking inside. You jumped a bit at the intrusion as Eris’s focus stayed on the chessboard like he had anticipated this. 

You looked up at the shadowsinger who was panting, his hair in disarray. His eyes widened as he took in the casual scene of you and Eris playing a game of chess. You raised an eyebrow at him but he only continued to glower at Eris. 

“Enough of what, shadowsinger?” Eris asked nonchalantly as he moved one of his chess pieces. 

“Enough of whatever the fuck you guys are doing,” Azriel huffed before looking at you with his arms crossed. “You’re needed back in the throne room. Now.” 

You very much doubted that, but decided to play along. You were losing this game anyways. You set your glass down on the table and stood, straightening out your gown. “Apologies, Eris, but apparently, duty calls.” 

Eris stood as well, gathering his coat that he had discarded at one point. “I should be getting back before my father grows suspicious anyways. I would very much like to do this again, Princess, if you’ll have me,” he said, grasping your hand and pressing a kiss to it like he did before. 

You gave him a slight dip of the head. “You know where to find me.”

He said his goodbyes, not without throwing a smirk in Azriel’s direction, before he disappeared, leaving only some crackling embers in his wake. You went to leave the room but Azriel reached an arm over your head and shut the door right in your face. You let out a disgruntled noise and turned around to Azriel towering over you, his gaze darkened.

“I thought I was needed in the throne room,” you said, sarcastically. 

He ignored you, keeping one hand on the door to keep it closed as he watched you. “So, you’re into Eris now? He’s a dangerous male, y/n.” 

“I think I can decide that for myself,” you snapped. “Maybe I am interested in him. What does it matter to you?”

He took a step closer, boxing you in against the door much like he had done that night. “I already told you it matters to me.” 

“You also told me to stay away from you. So why did you agree to be my guard for the next week? Why the fuck are you here?”

“Because someone has to watch over you! Especially when you decide to go strutting around in a dress like this,” he growled. “Tell me something, Princess, just who exactly did you have in mind when you put this on?”

His gloved hand trailed up the side of your thigh, to where the dress was held together with ribbon. You hated how much your skin tingled at his touch, hated the butterflies that arose in your stomach at his heated stare. Hating how your heart picked up its pace.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “If you’re implying that it was you I was thinking of, Azriel, then I’d say you think far too highly of yourself.”

“Your body says otherwise,” he growled, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

You put both your hands on his chest and pushed him away. “No, no! You don’t get to do this, Azriel! You came to me. You came to my balcony, almost kissed me, and then disappeared for days! And then the next time I saw you, you had your tongue down Elain’s throat before running off to go fuck eachother.” 

“I didn’t fuck Elain,” he grunted. “I’ve never fucked Elain.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

“No…I don’t know—fuck!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“I did as you said. I left you alone like you wanted,” you spat at him. “You cannot come back to me and cast any sort of judgment on who I wish to spend my time with. You can’t come to me and act like you want me now. You had your chance and you were the one who walked away. So why won’t you just leave me alone?” 

You said the words but your heart was screaming the opposite. All you wanted was to grab him, to kiss him, to continue where you guys had left off that night. You can tell in the way he stared at you that he wanted the same. But you deserved better than that—better than this. 

“Because I can’t. I can’t stay away from you,” Azriel said. He looked unhinged, desperate. As if your mere presence caused him such conflict. His eyes were pleading you for something, but you had no idea what he even wanted. He was so hot and cold. 

So you squared your shoulders and straightened the crown on your head. 

“Well, that's your problem not mine,” you said before finally leaving the room.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gods, the last few days had been draining. Dealing with Keir was a headache without having to also be around the brooding shadowsinger. You two hadn’t spoken to each other besides small words in passing and you tried to ignore his heavy gaze most of the time. The rest of your family had returned to Velaris after the party, leaving just you two to occupy the Moonstone Palace. Thankfully it was a rather big place which made it easier to avoid Azriel. 

But you still had half a week left with him here. 

You sank yourself further down in the bathtub, twisting your wine glass in your hand. You had a lot to think about. Your brother was crafting a response to Prince Cedric and needed your input of whether you wished to get to know him better, if you felt anything towards him. Eris had also sent you a letter today. Apparently this time he actually did have something of importance to share with you, but had also admitted to wishing to see you again. 

Perhaps it was time to move on from Azriel. Prince Cedric was handsome and kind, with his wavy blonde hair and cerulean eyes. But he lived on the continent, would eventually rule there, and you didn’t know if you could live so far away from your brother, nephew and soon to be niece. 

And then there was Eris. All the Vanserra males were annoyingly attractive and one day soon, he’d be the High Lord of Autumn. But he was complex. Half the time you didn’t even know which mask was his real personality. Was he really a kind male underneath that cruel armor he wore? Not to mention his past with your cousin.

You sighed and drank the rest of your wine before getting out of the bath. You pulled on your silk nightgown, the Palace charmed too warm to wear anything else to sleep, and dried your hair with some magic. It was late and you figured it was safe enough now to wonder about—figuring Azriel was asleep or at the very least, in his own bed chambers. 

You made your way down the vast corridors until you ended up right in front of the double doors leading into the study. Your brain was restless right now, but maybe some reading would help. You pushed the doors open and immediately wanted to curse the Mother. Of course you would jinx yourself. Of course the shadowsinger would be in the study already. 

Azriel looked up as the doors opened, his eyes finding yours. He looked…rough. His hair was in disarray, his eyes shadowed, and an almost empty bottle of whiskey sat on the small table in front of the armchair he was sitting in. You stood there for a moment, both staring at each other, until the doors slamming closed behind you made you jump. 

You let out a sigh and turned around, ready to leave, when his voice stopped you. “Don’t…Don’t leave. Please.” 

The desperation in his voice made you pause and you studied the intricate doors in front of you. You should leave. You absolutely should walk through those doors and go back to your private bed chambers. But…But this tension between the two of you was a dark cloud lingering over you. You had never had a contentious relationship with anyone in the Inner Circle. 

So you stayed, turning around and letting out a gasp as you came face to face with Azriel. You hadn’t even heard him move, hadn’t heard him even get up. You placed a hand over your heart and took a step back, putting more distance between the two of you.

He reached for you but you took another step back, sniffing the air. “You’re drunk, Az.”

“I know,” he said, darkly. “But I can’t take this shit anymore. I can’t do anything when I know how upset you are with me. I hate it, y/n. I hate that I’ve hurt you.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, upset. How could he be taking this so poorly when he was the one who caused all of this? You said nothing, just stared at him expectantly.  

“Princess…” he trailed off, staring down at you with melancholy eyes. “I…Can we please just forget about the past week? I can’t stand you being upset with me. Can we just…go back to how things used to be—before all of this?”

“How?” you breathed out. “How am I just supposed to forget?” 

How could you forget the hurt he had caused you…how could you erase the image of him and Elain stumbling into the River House in a heat of passion…by the cauldron, how could you forget about the way he treated you at training…and the night on the balcony afterwards. How?

“I don’t know,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He looked devastating in the dim faelights of the study, surrounded by marble bookcases and the open walls looking out towards the mountains. Even as dishelved as he was. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you. I fucked up. I should’ve never come to you that night…I should’ve never touched you.” 

Hurt flashed across your face. Had he really not wanted you that night? Had you completely misinterpreted his actions? Was he about to finally tell you he didn’t want you—that he wanted Elain and was sorry for leading you on? You didn’t know if your heart could take it…

“No, don’t…” Azriel said, seeming to notice where your thoughts had turned. “I don’t mean it like that, princess.” He reached a hand forward, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “I did want you…I still do. But you have to understand, we can’t. This…us…it can never happen.”

“Why?” you choked out. He didn’t make any sense. If you wanted him, and he wanted you, then what the hell was stopping either of you? Was he scared of how your brother might react? If that was the case then he could just say so. You could deal with Rhys.

His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin. You shouldn’t let him touch you. Shouldn’t even be so close to him. But Gods, your heart ached for his touch.

“Because,” he started, then faltered for a moment. “Because it just can’t, princess. I’m sorry.” 

You pushed his hand away from you. “You owe me more than that, Azriel! You owe me a godsdamn explanation. Why? Why can’t it happen? Because of Elain–”

“No,” he growled. “It has nothing to do with Elain. I don’t even care about Elain. I just want you—”

“I don’t think you know what you want, Azriel,” you scoffed. “You can’t stand here and say you don’t want Elain after what I witnessed between you two. I saw you, you know, in the kitchens that night. I saw you together before I even went to the continent. So don’t tell me you don’t want her, don’t care for her!” 

“It’s the truth,” he pleaded. “I swear to the Gods themselves. I don’t want Elain. I have never wanted Elain. I have never even wanted Mor. All I’ve ever wanted was you. You and only you.”

“You’re not making any sense,” you cried. “How can you even say that? I watched you pine after Mor for years! And now everything with Elain—”

“I need you to understand, princess. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to. But we cannot happen. I saw the way you looked at me and Gods, I wanted nothing other than to tell you how I felt. But you…I can never have you. So I pretended to pine after Mor for years hoping you’d move on. And then she came out to all of us, told us she preferred females, so I had to find someone else—”

“You expect me to believe that this whole time you’ve been pretending to like other girls? Mor, maybe I can believe because you never pursued her. But Elain? Azriel, I stumbled upon you guys twice! It certainly didn’t look like you were pretending.”  

“Because that night in the kitchens I was trying to make myself want her. Make myself want anyone other than you. Because I can’t have you, princess, don’t you get it! It’s fucking agony to crave you the way I do and not be able to do anything about it. So I tried, Gods, I tried to move on. But it didn’t work. We never got past what you saw. I couldn’t force myself to want her because I don’t. I don’t want anyone other than you.” 

“And what about the second time? Were you just pretending then, as well?” 

“I knew you were home that night. I had been tracking you the whole day with my shadows. After what happened between us on the balcony, I was scared you’d try to act on your feelings for me. So I purposefully sought out Elain. Purposefully led her back when I knew you’d be there to catch us. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I hurt you but I needed you to move on. Even if it meant you’d hate me.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stuttered. “If you want me and I want you, then what’s stopping us, Azriel? Why do you keep saying you can’t have me? Is it because of my brother? Do you think he wouldn’t approve—wouldn’t think you deserving? Because you are, Az. I love—”

Azriel surged forward and pressed you against the door with a hand around your mouth, wings snapped out to their full length. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, your chest heaving.

“Don’t,” he snarled. “Don’t say it. Don’t. I won’t be able to control myself and this will all be for nothing. This will all end horribly.” 

When you made no move to say anything else, his hand slowly dropped from your mouth. You felt tears line your eyes. You felt frustrated, mad, upset. You couldn’t wrap your head around what he was trying to tell you. 

“At least tell me why, Azriel. Don’t you think I deserve that? You said you’re sorry for hurting me but can’t you see how much you’re hurting me by doing this? It hurts more to know you want me the way I want you but not enough to be with me.”

Azriel let out a groan and sank to his knees in front of you, bowing his head. “You have no idea how much I want you, princess. No idea. It is you who is in my head every single second of every single day. It is you I think about as I fall asleep and you I think about the moment I awake. I would crawl through hell on my knees just to be able to kiss you, to hold you, to love you. But I can’t….I can’t, y/n.” 

You held your breath, a few tears leaking from your eyes. This was everything you’d ever wanted. These were words he had only ever told you in your dreams. And here he was, finally saying them for real. But in the same breath, telling you that this, that you and him, would never, ever happen.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why?”

But Azriel said nothing further. Just knelt on his knees in front of you like he was praying to the Gods, his head bowed between his shoulders, his wings drooping against the floor. You waited for him to say anything, anything that might help you understand. But nothing…nothing ever came from his mouth.

You loosened a breath, your heart heavy in your chest and left.

Left Azriel on his knees in that room, with the words he said hanging over him like a death sentence.  

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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*If you don't see your username and you asked to be tagged, it's bc it won't let me for some dumb reason.

*Hope you guys don't hate me too much!! We'll get some more Az POV soon and maybe next part we'll finally get some answersss ;)

[vikingmagic33]

Look at SJM making me give my money to Walmart. She has me by the throat with Az.

Leave it to Azriel to manage to get another bonus chapter. A menace for real😂😂