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florencemtrash · 5 months

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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.

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.

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.

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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.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader slowburn #angst #character death #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

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cressidagrey · 28 days

Text

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 10

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings:

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Eira has a shiny new spine, Azriel threatens to murder and the shadows keep torturing Elaine's floral arrangements and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“And if something happens…”

“We do know how to contact you,” Mor drawled drily from her seat on the couch. “Velaris will still be standing when you return, High Lord,” she told Rhys sarcastically. Az bit back a smile while Amren huffed.

"And you're alright with taking care of Nyx?" Feyre checked carefully. It was already dangerous enough for the High Lord, the High Lady, the General and the Spymaster to be out of the Night Court at the same time. There was no need to add the Heir to the Night Court to it as well.

Mor rolled her eyes. "He'll be alive and happy when you return," she promised Feyre.

Rhys sighed as he watched Feyre fuss over Nyx, who was sitting on the ground beside her, playing with what looked like a stuffed toy of some sort. A bat, now that he was looking at it with more interest.

He wondered where exactly he had gotten that from for a moment.

"He’ll be in good hands, love," Rhys assured Feyre, walking over to place his hands on her shoulders.

"And don't give her too much milk!" Azriel heard his mate exclaim, fussing about the little kitten that followed behind Eira everywhere. Snow, or Snowflake, as Eira had christened her, would stay with Cerridwen and Nuala...and Eira was fussy about it. Had been for days.

Azriel had more than once been jealous of a damn cat because it got all of Eira’s attention. And then he looked at Eira smiling at her, at playing with her with a ribbon, at how she coaxed her to eat little pieces of chicken from her hands, and scratched her underneath her chin, all of this with that expression on her face that told him that she was incandescently happy and he wasn’t jealous anymore. Eira loved her. How could he be jealous of that?

Eira appeared just a moment later, Snow still wrapped in her arms. She was clad in a green coat over a cream dress…if one could call it a coat? Azriel had absolutely no clue about fashion but it was a weird coat. It only had three-quarter-length sleeves and the neckline was open, with a shawl collar that bared her clavicle...and right there rested a necklace featuring fat emeralds that he knew the shadows had given her.

His shadows twined around her, whispering their approval for how pretty she looked, and he couldn’t disagree.

Eira was… She was stunning. She always was, of course. But that simple - yet still lovely - dress, the necklace, and her hair that was pinned up carefully with combs in it...Perfect.

He took her in, the slender, elegant lines of her figure in the dress, the dark gold strands of her hair in the elaborate braided hairstyle that revealed her lovely neck, and those blue-grey eyes that met his as a blush stained her cheeks.

She was beautiful.

"Where did you get that necklace from?" Amren suddenly demanded, staring at the necklace resting around Eira's throat with hungry eyes that made not only Azriel's brows raise.

Eira froze, and her fingers moved up to the emeralds that sat against her skin.

"The...?" she stumbled over her words a little bit, her glance shifting nervously between him, Amren, and Mor and Feyre, who had both also turned to look. "I...the Shadows got it for me," she said quietly, her cheeks darkening further.

What is this about? he demanded from the shadows, which seemed to nearly preen with something.

The Tiny Ancient One wanted it. We bought it first, they answered drily. Petty. So Petty.

He had to bite his lip to avoid snickering.

Of course, the Shadows had stolen something Amren had wanted from right under her nose. Of course, they had.

She still hasn’t apologised to her, the shadows sniped. It’s her own fault.

True. Amren was back in the city because Rhys would prefer his second and third to be there, but that came with strict instructions. Azriel wasn’t quite sure what exactly had been said, but the shadows had promised him that The High Lord had been more than clear with Amren.

A little mrrrrp from Snowflake in her arms brought attention down to the kitten, and Azriel reached out to fondly stroke the little ball of fluff. Eira giggled as Snowflake leaned into his touch, pressing her face against his fingers and continuing to purr.

"She likes you," Eira said with a little smile, watching the little cat with fondness.

"I think the feeling is mutual," Az murmured quietly, as he gently scratched Snowflake's head, and she just continued to press against his hands for more. Another mrrrp escaped the little cat, and Eira giggled a little.

"There we are!" Cassian exclaimed at that moment, Nesta trailed behind him. "I hope Helion still knows how to throw a party!"

"Or how to host one at least," Azriel grumbled under his breath, as he withdrew his hand from Snowflake's head. Rhys chuckled at the comment, as Feyre rolled her eyes.

Eira next to him stayed quiet, and he could see the nervousness in every line of her body. He offered her his arm and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, as she placed Snow on the ground.

"It will be alright," he promised her. It would be alright. It was only a wedding. Even if that meant facing Elain and he knew how nervous Eira was about that…He wasn’t nervous. He had promised himself an iron-clad grip on his temper. It would not flare. He would not actually kill Elain. Regardless of if he thought she deserved it for what she had done to them. “I’ll be there,” he added after a moment. He wasn’t going to leave her to face her demons alone. Not when she had grown even paler at the thought of facing Elain. Her fingers were gripping his arm almost like a vice.

"Everybody ready?" Rhys asked. "We'll winnow into the Courtyard of Sunray Palace."

A chorus of confirmations met his question, as Azriel placed a little kiss against his mate’s head, while her fingers in the crook of his elbow remained as tight as iron.

“Ready as we’ll ever be, I guess...” Cassian muttered, and Azriel silently agreed.

The shadows wrapped around them, and Azriel took a moment to make sure Eira was wrapped in them as well before they vanished from the River House. And rematerialised in the Day Court.

His first thought was...it was bright.

Very bright.

The brilliant sun was shining overhead, and the courtyard they appeared in was large and lovely, if a bit...showy. Similar to the House of Wind, The Sunray Palace was carved into the stone of a Mountain, that was covered in lush grass. He looked up to see a group of Pegasi fly up to their home in the highest tower.

He turned his head to check on Eira, catching her pale face and the nervous gulp as she took the Palace in, and his worry spiked. She was shaking like a leaf, and her knuckles were white where she clutched his elbow.

And then he watched as her shoulders went back and her chin went up, her jaw clenched nearly imperceptively. "You look lovely by the way," he whispered in her ear, making her blush. "Green suits you. Though I am partial to blue."

The compliment drew a flush of colour to her cheeks, and her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as a little smile appeared on her face.

“Of course, you would say that,” she shot back, the slight tremble in her voice still there. “You’re biased. And don’t try to distract me.”

He chuckled even as he led them forward, the two of them easily slotting into place between Nesta and Cassian, Nesta throwing her younger sister a look. Azriel could read the worry into it but he shook his head nearly imperceptively. Eira was doing well. Better than he thought she would at any rate.

Eira still looked nervous. Extremely nervous. Her hand still had a death grip on his arm, and she was walking stiffly beside him, and yet...she still had her chin lifted high, her eyes forward. He had to admire the courage she was putting on.

The doors to the Palace suddenly opened, and Helion stepped out, grinning brilliantly. “Well, well, well, you all are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice drawling out the syllables in that typical Day Court fashion.

“Don’t you know it, High Lord,” Cassian replied in his usual easy, charming tone, and Helion chuckled as his gaze travelled over the group with a smirk. Suddenly the smirk faltered as his gaze landed on Eira and the shadows wrapped around her.

His eyes widened, and Azriel didn't know what this was about before Helion continued. "We prepared rooms for you all. Why don't you arrive properly and then we'll have lunch?"

The suggestion was casual, but Azriel still thought that Helion's gaze remained on the way the shadows swirled up her body. It did result in the shadows hissing

"Thank you," Rhys drawled, easily matching the Day Court High Lord's tone. "We'll do that, and we'll see you for lunch."

The High Lord nodded, and retreated back into the Palace, while the group headed in the same direction.

When he glanced at Eira again, her face was paler than before, her hands trembling even more.

"Breathe, love," he whispered to her quietly, his voice soft, hoping it would soothe her a little bit. She gave him a weak nod in response, and he could see her forcing herself to take a shaky breath in. Azriel didn't know entirely what was going through her head, but he had the feeling it was not a happy thought, by any means.

They were shown to their suite of rooms, arranged around a shared living room, and he led her to a marigold yellow sofa. She collapsed like somebody cut the strings holding her up.

He had half a mind to curse, but her paler face, the trembling hands, stopped him. Instead, he carefully lowered himself down onto the sofa beside her, pulling her onto his lap without a second thought, and wrapped her in the shadows around them.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he repeated, as one of his hands stroked gently up and down her back, while the other cupped her cheek.

She leaned against his touch willingly, as another shudder wracked her frame.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whimpered.

His heart wrenched in his chest at the tremble in her voice. "There's nothing wrong with you, love," he assured her quietly. "Nothing at all. You are nervous to face Elain. That's alright."

She sighed softly, but relaxed against him, bedding her head against his shoulder.

"Looking awfully comfy there," Cassian drawled and her cheeks flushed scarlet. She moved to get off his lap but Azriel held her in place gently until she stilled.

He wrapped his arm a little bit tighter around her, keeping her from getting off his lap, as he shot Cassian a quick glare, while the hand rubbing her back continued the slow and gentle motion.

He could almost hear the Shadows whispering their own displeasure at Cassian in the back of his mind. Azriel could hear a sharp smack and he just knew that it must have been Nesta.

He turned his head to send a glare in Cassian's direction, as the Shadows snickered in his mind.

"Sorry, I am sorry, Eira" Cassian hurried to add, as Feyre stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Eira said nothing, just curled tighter against him, resting her temple against his shoulder.

"We got three bedrooms, not four," Rhys said with a sigh, apparently having surveyed the rooms in the meantime. "They clearly expected Azriel and Eira to share a room.”

Azriel wondered if that was on purpose. If that was Elain’s doing. Her attempt at making Eira uncomfortable. Eira, the one of the sisters that kept the most to human ideals of modesty, that blushed if he as much as kissed her cheek…that only kissed him when they were alone. And even then it were quick pecks against his lips.

Not that he would ever protest against one of Eira’s kisses. He wanted to hoard each touch of her plush, soft lips against his like a dragon hoarded its treasure.

But now he could feel Eira's body stiffen in his lap once more, and he glanced down at her. She was very pale again, her fingers trembling where they were wrapped around his jacket. He wanted to smack his head against the nearest wall, or at least something, but he refrained from doing that, and instead just pulled her further against his chest with a quiet huff.

"Their error," Nesta said drily. "Eira and I will share."

The Shadows were practically sulking in his head.

He shut them up with a growl.

Even when he wouldn’t have laid a single finger on Eira if they did share a bed, that clearly was a step too far for her. It would have made her uncomfortable. And he wasn’t going to push her. Not ever.

He had never asked, but there didn’t seem to be any human suitors in her past. Kissing seemed foreign to her, making her nervous and excited, her heartbeat quickening and she stared at him with this expression of wonder on her face.

"Alright, that works as well," Feyre agreed, and Azriel silently echoed that.

He could feel how tense Eira still was in his lap, though. Still trembling nervously under his touch. He continued to rub her back slowly, still trying to soothe her.

“Cassian can share with Azriel,” Nesta declared.

“Oh come on,” Cassian muttered.

The Shadows muttered their displeasure as well.

Azriel rolled his eyes, his fingers still rubbing her back soothingly.

"You're a grown male, Cassian," he said, his voice dry. "I'm sure you'll live."

A huff from the General, and Azriel just rolled his eyes again, his glance down to his mate again.

She still looked quite pale. The hand on her back continued the gentle rubbing.

"Interesting that it wasn't Elain and Lucien that greeted us," Feyre said drily. "Given that it's their wedding we are supposed to attend."

"Very interesting," Rhys agreed, as Azriel continued to eye Eira in his lap.

She was still tense against him, still pale, still trembling a little bit. Her nervousness and fear were rolling in waves towards him, through the bond.

"Elain will be at the lunch, no doubt," Feyre said, and Rhys just hummed in agreement.

The Shadows continued to whisper angrily in his mind, upset at the way their Mate was feeling.

"Or maybe Elain is terrified of what the shadows will do to her now," Nesta quipped darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but smirk a little bit at that.

He could practically hear the Shadows preen. Cassian let out a bark of laughter, and Feyre tried to hold hers back, while Rhys tried to keep a serious expression.

You'll behave, he told them sternly.

Maybe , they hissed back, though they were still clearly preening over the compliment.

He rolled his eyes and glanced down at Eira again.

I mean it. You will behave. You do not attack her, he reiterated in his head.

A few displeased mutterings echoed in his head, but they did quiet down. He refrained from rolling his eyes this time, and his glance went back to the female in his lap. She was no longer pale, the tremors and shakes having died down, and while she was still nervous, she now appeared relaxed. At least a little bit.

"Let's get changed for Lunch," Nesta said easily.

"You literally just put on a dress before we arrived here," Cassian said with a snort.

"You don't need to understand females, Cassian," Rhys said easily. "Just deal with it."

Cassian grumbled, as Feyre stifled another laugh and Azriel held in a snicker.

Nesta held out her hand for Eira, who took it and let her sister pull her to her feet, giving him a small smile and his hand a squeeze before they, together with Feyre, disappeared into one bedroom.

He watched her go, a strange feeling of loss creeping up once she was out of his sight.

Azriel was tempted, so tempted to get up and go after her, pull her back onto the sofa, onto his lap, into his arms, but he managed to stop himself from doing so.

He leaned his head back against the back of the sofa, and a long sigh escaped him.

"You're absolutely besotted." His head snapped up to see Rhys staring at him, his violet eyes sparkling with smug amusement. The Shadows immediately hissed in agreement his mind at Rhys' observation.

"Shut up," Azriel just grumbled.

Rhys smirked at him in response, and Cassian just laughed. "Whatever you do tonight, if your shadows start sweetly caressing me like they do to Eira, I'll scream," Cassian muttered.

"That won't happen," Azriel immediately shot back, the words practically hissed through his teeth.

At the same time, the Shadows muttered their own disapproval of that possibility. Only our Mate, they whispered.

Cassian just rolled his eyes.

"Do you think she'll manage?" Cassian asked, growing serious. "She seems awfully...nervous."

A heavy sigh escaped him, as he sat up straighter in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know," he admitted. "She...is very nervous. But she's trying not to be. She's trying to stay brave."

"And you?" Rhys asked quietly. "How are you holding up?"

He took a deep breath, contemplating the question.

He was angry. Furious. Worried about his mate, his heart clenching every time he felt her distress through the bond.

But he had to stay strong. For her. He needed to keep it together.

"I..." he mumbled, his voice faltering. He had to pause for a moment to collect himself. "I'm hanging in there."

Silence followed his admission, and Cassian and Rhys were studying him. He knew his friends could see through his facade, knew that they knew how worried he was. His face must have given all away.

"You have every right to be angry," Rhys said quietly. "I don't know what I would do in your place."

"What I want to do is to take her home," he admitted, his voice quiet and gruff, his eyes fixed on his lap, where he was clenching his hands into fists. "I want to take her home. I don't want her here. I don't want her to face Elain. Hell, I don't even want her to meet Elain at all. I..." He took a shuddering breath. "But she needs this. She needs this closure. I think Eira knows that herself."

Another heavy sigh escaped him, as he lifted his head and met Rhys' eyes.

"I just hate...seeing her so scared. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to feel frightened and scared because of...Elain," he said, bitterness seeping into his voice as he said her name.

"What did she see?" Cassian said suddenly. "Elain had a vision of you and Eira and worked to make sure it wouldn't come to pass. But what did she see?"

"Cass..." Rhys said carefully, but Azriel shook his head. It was alright.

"She saw...She saw Eira and a little girl in a garden. A little girl with her hair and freckles and my wings and eyes. She saw me coming home to them...picking up our daughter and kissing Eira...they saw my hand on her swollen belly...another child in her womb. She saw our children Cassian." There was a heavy pause after Azriel's words.

Cassian just stared at him, wide-eyed and silent, while Rhys' mouth was set into a thin-lipped grave line.

His voice had started shaking a little bit, towards the middle of his story, and he clenched his jaw against the emotions building in his chest.

"That you didn't outright kill her is a fucking miracle," Cassian seethed.

"I damn near came close," Azriel muttered darkly, while anger coursed through his veins.

His jaw was set, his hands were clenching and unclenching almost of their own accord, while the Shadows kept muttering angrily in the back of his mind. They were furious, furious that their Mate was distressed.

"Why did she do it?" Cassian demanded. "Because she is the prettier one? Because if she couldn't have Azriel, Eira shouldn't have him either? Because of jealousy ?!"

"Jealousy and spite," Azriel said darkly. "That's what it comes down to. Jealousy and spite ."

He wanted to break something. Preferably Elain. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze.

He took a shuddering breath to collect himself, as he felt himself slowly losing control of his temper.

But he needed to stay in control. He had to. He wasn't going to explode, not in front of Cassian and Rhys, and certainly not in front of Eira.

"I...hate...her," he bit out, his voice strangled, as his hands clenched and unclenched, even as he tried to keep control over his temper. "I hate her so much. Hell, I want to destroy the very thought of her. I...I want to make sure she can never hurt Eira again. And if it's the last thing I damn well do," he continued, and his voice was venomous. "She. Will. Never. Lay one finger on my mate ever again."

"And I'll make her suffer," he snarled, his voice almost a growl. "By the Mother, I won't just kill her. I'll make her suffer first. For what she did to Eira. For what she did to us. For the thought of that future that she denied me. I will make her pay."

A strangled breath escaped him, his lungs straining with the effort of keeping himself from going on a rampage right then and there.

He closed his eyes, and took a long shuddering breath, as fury continued to course through his veins, while the Shadows hissed and whispered in his mind, their mutterings murderous in nature.

He let out a shuddering breath, as he tried to will his raging temper to abate. He needed to calm down. He needed to, for Eira. She was nervous enough as it was. He couldn't go to her like this. He...He wouldn't do it. He refused to upset her further.

He kept his eyes closed, as he tried to force his emotions to a simmering rage.

Another shuddering breath escaped him, as it took all his strength to calm down. He forced the tension from his body, slowly loosening his clenched jaw. His hands were still clenched into tight fists, but he continued to just breathe deeply, willing his temper to die down.

It felt like an eternity before he finally felt in control of his own emotions again.

He opened his eyes again and met Rhys and Cassian's stares.

Neither of them said anything, silently watching him, and he leaned back against the sofa with a sigh.

"I'm alright," he said and was slightly surprised that his voice was steady, even if he still felt like he was full of rage. "I'm fine. I'm alright," he repeated, and it was more of a reminder to himself than anything else.

"You need to not react like that when you see her," Rhys said quietly, and Azriel couldn't tell if it was a warning or a mere observation.

"I know that," he said between clenched teeth. "I know that, Rhys. But I have every right to be furious. Hell, I have every right to rip her apart."

"You do," Rhys agreed quietly. "But it won't do anyone any favours if you get like this when you see her. You need to keep your temper in check. For Eira ."

***

Eira was staring at her reflection in the mirror, struggling to recognise the person looking back at her.

Her eyes were wide and anxious, her breathing quick and nervous, and her hands were trembling. A part of her was wondering how she was even managing to stand at the moment, seeing how her legs felt like they were close to giving in underneath her.

But she was also...she was also dressed in a tissue-thin gown out of pleated silk in a lavender colour, cinched in around the waist by an embroidered ribbon she had made. Her hair was pulled back from her face, diamond encrusted haircombs that she had no clue from where these had come from fastened in her hair...( One day she would need to actually get the shadows to stop buying her things. ), a diamond bracelet tightened around her wrist…They had even clipped earrings to her lobes, diamonds as well, dangly and pretty and in the Human Lads would be considered to be too much for a simple luncheon.

But here in Prythian, the shadows didn’t seem to think twice about it, to wrap her in more diamonds than most people had ever even seen in the same place.

Once they judged her ready, a tendril of shadows curled itself back around her wrist, while another picked up the small train of her dress.

"You know, I am kinda jealous. You have a handmaiden wherever you are," Feyre said drily.

Eira let out an embarrassed little laugh, the sound shaky and weak as her heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of her chest.

"They are...very helpful," she admitted, as she gave a small, nervous glance to Feyre.

Nesta finished pinning her own hair into her usual coronet, smoothing the blue-green fabric of her dress. "You do not need to accept her apology," her eldest sister said fiercely. "Remember that, Eira."

She swallowed, the familiar nervous butterflies back in her stomach, and she gave a shaky nod.

Feyre placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as she gave her a gentle squeeze. It was a little steadying and helped quell some of her anxiousness, even as the nervous tremors continued to wrack through her body.

"I...know," she said quietly.

Right. There went nothing.

She took a few more, long, deep breaths, to calm her nerves.

She was going to be alright. She was going to be just...fine.

You're going to be fine, she repeated to herself as she squared her shoulders.

Azriel was waiting for her as she left the bedroom, in a quiet conversation with Rhys and Cassian. He looked up as soon as he came out, his expression softening.

His eyes widened momentarily as a breath caught in his throat at the sight of her in that dress, and a small smile started spreading across his lips.

"Eira," he said quietly, taking a tentative step towards her. "You...You look beautiful, sweetheart."

She gave a shaky smile, her eyes meeting his as those familiar little butterflies came to life in her belly.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering at the affectionate endearment.

"Ready?" Rhys asked.

She exhaled, steadying her breathing, willing her trembling body to not shake.

Eira gave a shaky nod, even as the familiar anxiousness threatened to overwhelm her, and she swallowed past the lump forming in her throat.

"Ready," she whispered.

She just needed...She reached out for Azriel's hand before she could help herself, not caring how inappropriate this was. They weren't married, they weren't even engaged and still, she claimed his hand with hers, threading her fingers through his.

The feeling of scarred skin against her home, grounded her, giving her something to hang onto.

The shadows that kept closer to him than usual, hiding behind the wings he had snapped close to his body, dusted over her arms for just a moment, like they wanted to assure Eira that they were there as well, before returning to their mater, leaving her with a few wrapped around her wrist and another tendril keeping her skirt in place.

For a brief moment, Azriel looked down at where their fingers were woven together, before lifting his head again and giving her fingers a firm, reassuring squeeze. She felt his warmth through his skin, the steady beat of his pulse, and it was comforting...comforting to know that he was right next to her.

She took a few more, deep breaths, the anxiety continuing to flutter in her stomach, but...

But Azriel was here, she reasoned.

Azriel was right there...right next to her, holding her hand...and she could do this. She could get through this. All she had to do was stay close to him.

They were let to a dining room, with high ceilings, beautifully appointed in white and gold.

“I swear I told them to put white jasmine and blush roses in here and not yellow carnations and orange lilies!” she heard her sister’s voice before she saw her.

Seconds later, she got her first glance at her twin sister. Lucien and she made a lovely couple, always had. And Elain did look as utterly beautiful as she always had. Elain had always been extraordinarily lovely, but that hadn't changed in her transformation into a High Fae. Now she was utterly beautiful.

Even when… with a blink Eira realised how harried-looking Elain was, fiddling with the flowers on the table. Her heart clenched at the sight of her, mixed with the swirling, anxious emotions in her stomach, and she couldn't help the shuddering breath that escaped her as they walked into the room.

Azriel's hand clenched around hers.

Her eyes snapped to his. His face was a mask of ice. She had never seen him look ...like that before. Never seen...this tightly controlled murderous rage.

The shadow tightened around her wrist. She wasn't sure if it was in warning, but she didn't care anyway.

He was hers. Hers in every bit of this murderous rage.

They came to a halt, and she felt the way Azriel clenched his jaw as his eyes met with Elain's across the room.

He was furious, she could practically feel the rage simmering under the surface, the only thing keeping him in check was his ironclad control...and the fact that he was holding onto her hand.

She would leave the diplomacy to Feyre and Rhys, the useless pretty words. She didn’t trust herself to say anything that was actually nice. Instead, she tugged Azriel along to find their seats at the table, pasting a smile on her face.

They sat at the table, and Azriel kept a firm hold of her hand, never loosening his grip on her. The shadows kept themselves firmly around her wrist and continued to cling unto her, even as they settled into place at the table.

And a part of her could feel how Azriel was tensed, how he was wound up so tight she was afraid he might snap.

Cassian sat down next to Azriel, with Nesta bracketing Eira's other side, fully ignoring whatever seating arrangement had been put down by the Day Court.

Eira wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly why Cassian had been put there. In the event of Azriel losing his temper, Cassian may had a chance at subduing him. Though she somehow doubted that would actually work.

With them right there, and Azriel holding onto her hand, she felt...steady. She felt secure...secure enough to withstand this dreaded luncheon.

Feyre and Rhys sat down next to Helion, Lucien and Elain, and she could feel the tension in the room.

She could sense Elain's gaze on her, sitting directly across from her. , but didn't dare to meet her eyes as the anxiousness roiled in her stomach, even as Azriel's fingers continued to grasp hers, and one of the shadows curled around her wrist, giving a small, reassuring little squeeze.

"It's so nice that you could make it," Elain said, a smile on her face, masking her nervousness. She was glancing at the shadows that were topping up Eira’s water glass, clearly making a pest out of themselves, to put bread on her plate and drag the butter dish closer to her.

For just one moment Eira wondered if they did that on purpose. Were they trying to scare Elain?

"We wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Feyre said, her voice carefully neutral.

There was a stiffness in the air, palpable enough that it could be cut with a knife, the tension as so thick that one could drown in it, and Eira just sat there, her fingers tightly wrapped around Azriel's hand.

There was a moment of silence, where nobody commented.

And then...her heart hammered against her ribs, her stomach twisting in knots, as those doe-like brown eyes landed directly on her. "You look...good, Eira. Healthy. I hope everything healed well," Elain said sweetly.

Her breath caught in her throat as she fought down the nausea that welled up in her stomach, and she forced a tight smile onto her lips.

"Everything healed up just fine," she said, her voice shaking, only to be steadied by the firm squeeze Azriel gave her hand.

It was the truth. Nothing but a thin white line underneath her left breast. Nobody but her would probably ever see it.

"And the... lightning ?" Lucien wondered. "I hope your cauldron-given gift didn't give you too much trouble," he quipped, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Elain mentioned that you…defended yourself quite well.”

The nausea that welled up in her throat was nearly immediate. Defended herself. She had defended herself. She had also killed 4 males.

"Lightning?" The High Lord of Day asked, sounding fascinated. He was looking at her like she was an exceptionally interesting specimen.

Her stomach roiled, the nausea continuing to grow inside her, as her heart thundered in her chest.

“No,” Eira said, struggling to keep her voice even. “It...It wasn’t too much trouble,” she continued, even as the nausea continued to rise, and she felt like she might retch all over the table.

"She's learning to control it," Rhys said evenly. "She's doing as well as one could expect."

Her heart fluttered at Rhys’ words. He was trying his best to...deflect the attention away from her. Trying to help.

“So she really can generate lightning then?” Helion spoke up, sounding utterly fascinated.

"She can," Rhys confirmed, his voice even. His words were simple, but the tone of them was almost warning, and she could feel Azriel tense even more next to her. And that was enough to pique Helion’s interest.

“Extraordinary,” he said, and he sounded way too fascinated with her wretched blessing.

Her heart skipped a beat, the nausea continuing to grow in her stomach until she feared she might vomit at any moment. Her hand clenched around Azriel's, fingers practically digging into his skin, while the shadows around her wrist squeezed reassuringly. And all the while, she could feel Elain's eyes on her, her stare practically boring into her.

"Do the shadows help control it?" Elain asked hesitantly. Only now, Eira realised that more had come to swarm around her, banding around her midsection and chest, like trailing black ribbons. Their touch was gentle, and soft.

"No," came Azriel's reply, and his voice was so filled with cold fury that she was amazed he could even get the words out.

He was tense, like a coiled spring, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, while the shadows continued to cling to her, continuing to twine around her wrist in a firm, reassuring grip.

"They like touching Eira because she's Azriel's mate," Cassian said, his voice icy. Her heart stuttered in her chest at Cassian's words.

His blunt, to-the-point declaration of her belonging to Azriel...the words had stunned her, and it seemed they had stunned Elain too if the way that she stiffened was any indicative.

"Ah, yes...we should talk about that," Helion said with a sigh. "Elain?"

The tension in the room immediately ratcheted up even more higher, and Eira could feel it, as a chill settled over the room. She was so tense, she was struggling just to breathe, and her hand was trembling where it was held in Azriel’s ironclad grip.

"I am sorry," Elain said quietly.

Her heart skipped a beat at her twin sister’s words, her stomach twisting in knots, as her eyes flicked towards her. Elain’s voice was soft but sincere, and her brown eyes were wide and vulnerable, and there were tears in her eyes... Tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"I am sorry, Eira," she said again, her voice trembling. “For...for everything.”

And suddenly...suddenly the fear, the nervousness went away, replaced with ice-cold anger. "You are sorry ," she repeated flatly. Sorry .

The anger in her voice was not missed, and she heard Nesta and Feyre inhale sharply. Elain's eyes widened at the tone in her voice...at the anger in Eira’s words, and she gave a small, shaky nod, her chin trembling slightly.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have tried to keep you and Azriel away from each other. I was...I shouldn't have done that."

Eira clenched her jaw, the anger still boiling in her blood as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze.

"No," she replied, her voice so flat it was as if it was made of ice. "You shouldn’t have done that," she repeated coldly. "But that's not all you did, Elain," she spat out. "You saw that vision. You know what you did." What she had done. Namely, keep Eira's babies from being born .

Her heart lurched in her chest, and she felt Azriel squeeze her hand tightly as if he knew what had been going through her thoughts.

Her throat was tight, and her breathing was laboured, as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze, her eyes cold and furious as she spoke.

"You did a lot more than keeping me away from Azriel',” she hissed.

And the worst part was, her sister didn’t even try to deny what she had done. Didn’t even try to fight back. All she could do was sit there, looking like a wounded puppy, which only fuelled the anger in Eira’s chest.

“You tried to take everything from me,” she hissed again.

"It all worked out!" Elain defended herself. "You and Azriel seem to be..."

She couldn’t be serious, could she?

It all worked out?

It all worked out?!?

"It is not all ‘worked out’!" she snapped, her voice cracking as she fought back a frustrated scream bubbling in her chest. "You tried to take everything from me!" she repeated, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. The tears weren't for her.

The tears were for her babies.

The anger ratcheted in her chest and she could feel the lightning underneath her skin, begging to be released. Begging for her to let go of her grip on it and let it find its target. Let it find Elain. Let it hit her.

She clenched her jaw, forcing that feeling down, as she met her sister’s eyes with a cold glare. "You tried to take my children from me," she hissed at Elain. " My children. "

The temperature in the room seemed to drop to below freezing, and she could feel Nesta and Feyre’s gazes on her. She didn’t care though. Her eyes were entirely focused on her twin, and the words had come out in a deadly hiss, the anger steaming out of her in waves.

"You tried to take our babies ," she repeated, her words cracking again as she spoke.

She felt Azriel’s grip on her hand tighten even more, the shadows clinging to her wrist once more, as if trying to both keep her grounded and hold her back.

And it was the only thing keeping her from lunging across the table and grabbing her sister by the throat.

Her skin was itchy, that strange, foreign energy writhing underneath the surface, and she fought to keep it reined in, to keep it from escaping, even as the room went silent, the tension so palpable you could taste it in the air.

It hurt, keeping it restrained, and her heart thudded against her ribs, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps.

Her whole body was tense, and all she wanted was to let the lightning free. To let it roar.

"You are my twin sister, Elain," she said, biting out every word. "We spend 9 months sharing our mother's womb. I trusted you with my life. And you did this to me."

Her sister just sat there, her eyes wide and watery, as if somehow even that had been a shock to her.

"We spent years together," she continued, her words sharp and cold. "I never thought I would need to worry about you betraying me."

Her chest hurt like something was sitting on it, making it hard to breathe, as she continued to hold Elain’s gaze.

Elain’s eyes were wide, watery, and wounded, and she might have been almost sorry that she looked so hurt…if not for the fact that Elain was the one who had caused Eira to be in this position in the first place. Elain was the one who did this to her…hurt her so badly she didn’t know if it’d ever heal.

"I…I…" Elain started, her voice cracking. She looked like she was going to cry, and Eira felt herself waver slightly at the sight of her distraught expression. But then…her mind flashed back to the vision of her daughter , so small and beautiful…and that small, weak flutter of sympathy in her chest died.

"I trusted you," she hissed, her voice thick as she desperately tried to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of her eyes. "I trusted you and look what you did to me. What you took from me."

Her sister let out a watery gasp, her lower lip quivering, and the tears slid silently down her face. And for a moment, Eira felt her resolve waver…only to remember the image of those two babies. The ones that should have been hers.

Anger flared again at that thought, her heart squeezing in her chest, as her breath hitched.

All the sympathy that she had felt was gone, and all that was left was the all-consuming rage coursing through her veins.

She had every right to be angry, she told herself. She had every right to feel this way.

She was so angry, so incandescent with rage, that her entire body was shaking, and she felt like she needed to just scream. To shout and rage and fight…fighting was all she wanted to do.

She gritted her teeth, her fingers wrapping tightly around Azriel’s hand, as she tried desperately to rein in the storm of emotions warring within her chest.

Azriel’s grip on her hand tightened as if he was sensing how close she was to breaking.

“Eira...” Elain said tremulously. Her sister’s voice was quiet, almost timid, and it was enough to snap something within her.

"Don’t. Don’t speak to me. You are the last person who gets to speak to me right now," she snarled, her voice cold as steel. "I loved you," Eira snapped. "I loved you and you did this to me. And now you want to tell me that everything is alright because it WORKED OUT?!"

Her sister looked like she was going to start sobbing, her lower lip quivering faintly, while her brown eyes were like large, round pools. But Eira was done feeling sorry for her. Done feeling sympathy towards her.

“You don’t get to talk to me about what’s alright or not,” she hissed, fighting the urge to reach forward and throttle her. "I just want to know one thing. Why?" she snapped." WHY? Why did you do it?” she shouted bitterly.

Elain looked like she had absolutely no idea how to answer that. She looked like a lost child, and it took all of Eira’s strength to keep her seat and not lunge across the table to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

She knew her eyes were probably like ice when they met her sister’s, and her glare was hard as steel as she waited for her answer. "Why?" Eira repeated icily.

Her sister’s lower lip was trembling, just as much as her shoulders, as she raised her head to meet Eira’s furious glare.

"I…" Her voice was small and watery, and her eyes were now wide and pleading. "I…I was jealous," Elain whispered.

Eira’s jaw dropped at the words. At the admission, she had just heard. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting her sister to say, but a quiet confession of jealousy hadn’t been it.

Her sister’s chin trembled, her shoulders hunching slightly as she let out another sniffle. She sounded utterly small and looked almost pathetic in that moment as she slowly raised her head to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Of you and Azriel,” Elain admitted, her voice quiet, and trembling. "You...we just...we just got out of the cauldron and this was...one of the first things I saw. You didn't have visions. You weren't going insane. You...you adjusted so much quicker. Not a week later and you were making soup in the kitchen in the House of Wind and...you…were alright."

Alright.

Eira thought back to these first few days after the cauldron. Thought back to the terror that had clawed under her skin. Thought back to too loud noises and every piece of clothing feeling like sandpaper against her skin.

She thought back to how she hadn’t been able to sleep. How she had locked herself in the bathing chamber to hysterically break down because she had never wanted it. How she had pulled at her ears, too big, too pointy. How she had wanted to cut them off. How she had wanted to die. How she had thought that throwing herself off the balcony would be a solution .

"I locked myself into the closet. I hid underneath the bed. I rocked back and forth and back and forth and hummed to myself to stop hearing heartbeats and breathing and birds," Eira spat out. "Yes, I was making soup. For you. Because somebody needed to," Eira said, her voice icy. “I wasn’t alright, Elain. I kept stuffing my ears with cotton wool for the better part of 2 years so I could sleep!”

Her sister looked like she was going to start crying yet again, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and it only fuelled the rage in Eira’s chest.

“You were jealous of that ? Jealous that I was making soup? That I was taking care of you?” she repeated, her tone hard and cold. “Of the fact that I was trying to make a positive out of a shitty situation. That I was trying to move on with my life? That I tried not to give Feyre another thing to worry about? And you were jealous? Jealous of what ?!"

Of the breakdowns she had daily?

Her sister didn’t reply, her shoulders shaking as if she was trying to hold back a sob

“You were jealous of the fact that I was trying not to scream, not to break down crying,” she repeated, her voice now dangerously quiet. “Of the fact that I wasn’t moping around feeling sorry for myself, because somebody needed to make sure that you didn’t starve to death? That I was trying not to give Feyre or anyone any more of my baggage?”

"And that you got Azriel," Elain whispered. "You got...I saw you with him. With a kind man. I saw these children and I was...I wanted that. I wanted what that vision promised you. So I thought that if I..."

Her breath caught in her throat at her sister’s words, her heart twisting in her chest.

It was sick, what she had done. Horrible. And part of her had known that Elain had a crush on Azriel…but Eira had never thought she’d be spiteful enough to try and rip her children away from her just for that.

“So you wanted it," she stated coldly, her eyes like chips of ice. "You wanted what you saw me having. So you tried to take it for yourself.”

Her sister’s shoulders slumped, and she looked small and pathetic as she curled in on herself. That rage and anger were still burning hot inside her, but along with it, there was the slightest flicker of sympathy starting to burn within her again.

And Eira hated it. Hated that part of her that still felt sorry for her, even after what Elain had done.

"And later? After you and Lucien figured things out?" Why did you continue it?" she snapped.

Her sister’s face screwed up, and she looked like she wanted to burst into tears yet again. Her chin quivered, her entire form trembling. And she looked so small and fragile, that that small flicker of sympathy flared again within her, and Eira found herself hating it.

"I was...I was angry," Elain muttered softly. "I was furious. I thought Azriel and I...there was something growing between us and then he...he called trying to kiss me a mistake."

Her sister’s voice was quiet and sad, and Eira could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Because it was," Azriel said, his voice quiet. "It was a mistake. You had a mate that was literally sleeping upstairs. I never should have laid a single finger on you."

Her sister flinched at Azriel's words and hunched even further in on herself, as if she wanted to crawl into a corner. "Later it was revenge on me, wasn’t it?" Azriel said, ice dripping from his voice.

Her sister looked as if she couldn't quite meet Azriel's gaze, her eyes lowered onto the table, her body trembling. She nodded.

And part of the anger that was currently roiling within Eira burned hotter at that. How dare she look so pathetic now, like she was the damn victim and everything that had happened was Eira’s fault?

Eira’s free hand clenched into fists, and she could feel the sparks dancing across her skin, the strange energy writhing beneath the surface. Azriel, noticing this, gripped her hand tighter, his shadows snaking around her wrist again as they tried to rein in those sparks of lightning.

She didn’t want to hurt him.

That was what made her reign it in.

She was still boiling with rage, the anger thrumming through her veins like fire, and she desperately tried to calm herself, tried to get a hold of her temper.

She didn’t want to cause any damage, to break anything or hurt anyone, and the part of her that was still rational, still logical, forced her to rein in whatever was itching to get out. She breathed in and out, forcing herself to calm as those sparks danced across her fingers, and those shadows snaked up her arm. A part of her couldn’t help but notice how Elain’s eyes kept darting to the sparks and the shadows, her body tensing every time they appeared, and a small, vindictive part of her couldn’t help but be glad of it.

Her head was throbbing as that rage continued to thrum through her, but she took in another breath, forcing her mind to concentrate on the sensation of Azriel’s hand wrapped around her own. His skin was warm against hers.

"I hope nobody ever does the same to you," Eira finally said, her voice quiet.

Her sister lifted her gaze, her eyes watery, and she looked as if she’d been slapped. She looked as if she was shocked at her words.

There was another pause, another silence, as the two sisters sat facing each other, and her words hung in the air.

Elain’s chin trembled again, as if she was fighting the urge to burst into tears once more.

"I think we can all agree that Elain did not handle this...properly," Lucien said carefully.

Lucien’s words broke the silence, and Eira couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation as he spoke.

"No, she surely didn't," Rhys said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Her sister flinched at Rhys’s words, as if she had been struck, and her shoulders drooped even further than before.

"I think that's an understatement," Nesta snapped.

Her sister’s eyes widened as if the sound of Nesta’s voice startled her. Elain’s head jerked to look over at her eldest sister, who was scowling at Elain with an almost furious look of disapproval.

Eira almost felt a little bad for her sister at that look in Nesta’s eyes, but that sympathy was quickly squashed as she remembered the pain that her sister had put her through.

Her chest ached, the memory of what she had lost still too fresh and raw, and a part of her knew that it would take a long time for the pain to subside.

And even then, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to forget what Elain did to her, and that knowledge sat like a lead weight in her stomach, making her feel like she was going to be sick.

Elain shrunk back at the look on Nesta’s face, her eyes even wider as she looked over at her eldest sister. And for a moment, just for a moment, it looked as if Nesta was going to reach across the table and smack her sister. The eldest sister’s hands were clenched into fists, and she looked like she was restraining herself, only just managing to rein in her own temper.

A pause. Another silence. Elain sat, looking small and fragile across the table, Lucien’s chair positioned right beside hers with a possessive arm wrapped over the back.

Azriel’s hand was still gripping hers. He was still sitting beside her, the Shadowsinger’s eyes glittering with fury whenever he looked over at her sister. And his fingers were still rubbing gentle circles on her wrist, the shadows still coiled against her skin, and Eira couldn’t tell if he was doing it to comfort her or himself.

"I am going to say this now," Azriel said quietly. " Once . If you ever do anything remotely similar to your sister again, it will not end well. Do you understand me?"

Elain’s chin quivered, and she looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from bursting into tears again.

She swallowed as Azriel’s words, before slowly lifting her head, forcing herself to meet his eyes with her own. “I…” She took in another shuddering breath. “I understand,” she whispered.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #the prophecy #Looked to the sky

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serpentandlily · 1 year

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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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*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 ;)

#acotar #fanfic #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #angst #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #shadowsinger x reader #original character #acotar writing

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lady-embers · 30 days

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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 😉

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #nesta archeron #nesta acosf #you're the new ribbon #see you tomorrow #shadowsinger

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delulustateofmind · 5 months

Text

Marriage-Life (One-shot)

A/n: Thank you all for all the love on the Between Worlds series! I promise an update next week. This is just something I thought about while on my walk with my dog :) SUPER FLUFFY!

**Also, it is unedited so fair warning, like a rough draft!**

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Collections of domestic life with Azriel, married/mated for fifty years.

Warnings: Fluff & crack at times, drinking, some intimate moments. Pet names (Sweetness, My Love, Baby)

Azriel the spymaster was your mate, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Balancing life with a spymaster was no easy feat. Azriel’s frequent absence on risky missions tested the boundaries of your marriage at times. Yet, amidst the challenges, you found solace in the ways he made up for his prolonged departures.

Like sleepless nights in bed after a long mission…

As you settled in settled into bed, with Azriel lying on your chest, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes were closing. A question tugged at your lips. “Would you…’ you began, hesitating for a moment. ‘Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,’ Azriel hummed, his warm breath grazing your skin.

“Love me if I was a snail” You finished, feeling Azriel’s smirk form against your chest. He gave a soft nip on your breast. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to look up at you. The hazel eyes looked up at you with amusement you could see his smirk turn smug.

“Oh sweetness, that changes things” he drawled as he sat up a little, pushing himself up to see your face. You bit your lip trying not to giggle as he continued.

“I mean, are you a normal snail? Like could I tell you apart from all of the other little snails?” Azriel began, his deep voice filled with a teasing tone. His hand roaming your bonds, fingers caressing your curves.

You stifle a laugh as his fingers find ticklish spots, “I would be a cute snail, one that you could distinguish from the others”

“A very cute snail…but the fact remains. You would still be a snail” Azriel hummed as he ran his fingers across your curves again. His gaze goes down to your body and back to your lips and then your eyes with a playful grin. A grin that only you ever saw. “I would feel so guilty if I stepped on you by mistake. Can’t have that, can we?”

Giving him a playful pout, you look at him innocently. “Are you saying…that you wouldn’t love me if I was a snail?” you whisper to him in a soft gaze, as you notice his movements. Azriel grinned again, pushing himself onto his elbows against you as he moved closer to you. His wings continued to drape across the both of you.

“What I’m saying is I would always have to worry about stepping on you if you were a snail. Which would make being married to you quite the headache.” His hand once rested on the curve of your waist, moved its way to your collarbone then your jawline, and finally to your chin. Tilting your head as he brings himself closer to whisper on your lips. “How about you stay fae my love, maybe in another universe we could be snails together. But this one, I would love to be fae with you.” A gentle kiss was planted on your lips, which led to you both having a very sleepless night.

****

Azriel never really had much of a sweet tooth, in fact, he typically stayed away from sweets until he met you. When you both got married, you would try out a new cafe once a month, sometimes going to the same one if their seasonal menu changed.

“Let’s get ice cream today, it’s starting to get so warm out.” You whined as you slipped on a sundress. Azriel in the middle of brushing his teeth as he shrugged and gave the confirming nod.

One of the best things about Azriel was that he always tried to match your outfits. If you wore a blue ribbon in your hair, he would wear a blue button-up shirt. If you wore a floral sundress, he would find a shirt that matched one of the colors. Today wearing a blue floral sundress, he opted for a light blue button-down and khaki slacks. One of which, he never owned any colorful clothing or anything other than his leathers and a few formal outfits until you two met.

Once you were both ready, Azriel took you on a flight down to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. A district is known for its food. Once landed, you both walked hand in hand. Shadows trailing the both of you as you walked. Azriel’s huge hand compared to yours as he guided you to a cafe.

“Feyre mentioned this place the other day” he began as he guided you through the busy streets. His wings were tightly tucked in. “I guess they make the ice cream look cute, like little bears and pigs” he gave you a warm smile as you trailed next to him, giving him a confirming squeeze with your hand.

The streets were packed today, the market was selling spices, the smell of delicious food filled the air, and merchants trying to gather attention as people walked past. It wasn't until after a few blocks away, that you noticed a cute pastel pink building that had “Ice Cream” written in a beautiful cursive font on the window. You moved your hand from his, moving it towards his bicep as you both walked to the front doors. When you grasped his muscle, he flexed. The pastel-pink building exuded a quaint charm, its exterior adorned with delicate floral motifs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Inside, the decor was equally inviting, with plush cushions and paintings on flowers on the walls. Along with cute stuffed animals on shelves around the parlor. A beautiful fae girl led you both to a table and placed a menu in front of you both. Azreil looked at you. “Order anything you want. I will just share with you”

The menu was filled with a tempting array of ice cream parfaits, each more enticing than the last. Ranging from little animal-themed ones to flower ones You ended up ordering the panda, and right when you ordered you noticed there was a drink menu that showed an adorable foam cat latte. You order it as well obviously. Azriel smirks as he looks at you with a smile. People in the ice cream parlor glanced over. A smile from the threatening looks of the spymaster was quite rare.

You both talked about what other errands you both needed to run, a market trip was due. Luckily Azriel won’t have a mission for a while but will be training with the Valkyrie and having to go to Hewn City soon. As you both talked, you very impatiently waited for the dessert, Azriel held your hand across the table. He was rubbing his finger across the top of your hand.

“I appreciate you” He whispered so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You give him a warm smile “I appreciate you too and everything you do.”

After what seemed like forever!

The ice cream and latte finally arrived, you looked at the ice cream with a pout and looked at him.

“I don’t think I can eat it, it’s too cute” you pout as you look down at the panda ice cream staring up at you. Azriel had already taken the latte and was about to sip it. As he raised a brow.

“Shall I eat it for you” he teased, flashing a playful grin as he took a sip of the cute cat latte. Something about this intimidating creature sipping a cute cat latte caused your heart to flutter. A blush made its way across your face, even after fifty years of marriage, he still makes you have butterflies in your tummy. You reluctantly used your tiny spoon that was given to you, to poke the face of the little panda ice cream ball on top. Tasting the ice cream, it was a cookies and cream flavor. So cute and so delicious. Azriel teased you by claiming you’re murdering him. You would flash him a playful glare which would cause him to laugh. It was moments like these, that you enjoyed being married to him.

***

Drunken nights, meant drunken mates.

Azriel arrived at Rita’s to find his mate giggling drunk next to Feyre who was being led away by Rhysand. Azriel’s mate however was still sipping on her drink as he walked over.

“Sorry, I have a mate,” you slurred, raising a hand to Azriel’s face as he approached.

“Oh, do you? Is he handsome?” He teased in a low voice, taking a seat next to you. His wing brushing against your shoulder.

“The most handsome man in the whole world, let me tell you if he caught you right now, you would be catching his hands” You drawled with a drunken grin as you sipped the rest of your cocktail.

Azriel covered his mouth covering a laugh, “Is that so? So he’s like super powerful.” He teased, his tone holding amusement. One of his shadows trailing around your arm.

You notice it and giggle, “Yeah, my mate has these little shadow things too” You point at the shadow and show it to him. He laughs a bit harder and leans closer to you. You almost immediately recognize him.

“Hello! My mate!” You giggle as you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist. “When did you get here, there was such a strange man here” you giggle as he holds you close, placing his chin on top of your head.

“Just now, how about we head home? Hm?” He hums as he plays with a strand of your hair, leaning back a little to slide a hand under your chin to tilt your face to his to see your drunken smile with a red flush on your cheeks.

“Can we walk a little?” You smile up at him as you slur a little.

“Can you even walk?” He teases in a low tone, “If you can then sure”

He pays the tab and walks with you out. A hand firmly on your waist to stop you from stumbling when you both walk the streets of Velaris. If anyone even looks at you stumble they’re met with the glare of the spymaster. You notice a pigeon leaving his arms and make your toward it.

Tears stream down your face.

Oh fuc- Azriel almost thought you were about to throw up but here you are giving the pigeons coins while crying.

“Baby please, he’s homeless” You give Azriel a longing look as big alligator tears stream down your face.

“The pigeon?” Azreil covers his mouth from laughing, there’s no way his mate is crying about a bird on the street. This is one of her more normal moments.

“Yes, and he’s so poor. I mean he had no pockets!” you slurred as your voice cracked feeling so bad for the poor pigeon.

“I’m sure he’s fine love, please leave the pigeon alone,” he says quietly as he pulls you up. Perhaps, winnowing home would be for the best.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar azriel #shadowsinger #pls I need this man

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bookwormjust · 3 days

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Gifts for a new family (established relationship with Azriel)

As you walk through the lively streets of Velaris, the city sparkles with the magic of the approaching Solstice. Snow gently falls, dusting your dark curls as you move from stall to stall, gathering thoughtful gifts for each person you hold dear. The vibrant energy of the city surrounds you—laughter, chatter, and music drifting through the air—but you’re focused, determined to find the perfect gift for each individual.

The Archeron sisters, your dearest friends, are at the top of your list. For Nesta, something elegant but practical—a sword charm, small yet intricately carved, reminding her of strength and grace. For Elain, a collection of rare seeds wrapped in delicate ribbon, the kind that will bloom into the most beautiful flowers in the gardens she adores.

Then, there’s Lucien. The idea of him being alone during Solstice tugs at your heart, especially with Elain’s rejection lingering in the air. No one seems to have thought of buying him anything, but you do. After a few moments of wandering, your eyes fall on a beautifully bound book on rare herbs and healing remedies—a subtle but kind offering, something that speaks to his knowledge and appreciation of the natural world. You smile softly, hoping it will be a small comfort to him.

And for Azriel—your shadowsinger. Your heart flutters as you think of him, the way his shadows dance around him like they know you. You’ve spent hours pondering the perfect gift, wanting to show him how much you care, how much he means to you. You finally settle on something simple yet deeply personal—a custom-made leather sheath for Truth-Teller, engraved with symbols of protection and strength, paired with a small silver pendant representing hope, something light for him to carry, always close to his heart.

Azriel’s mother, though you’ve never met her, is also on your mind. After all, she’s an important part of him, and you want to honor that. In a small shop tucked away in a quieter corner of the city, you find a delicate silver bracelet adorned with small, shimmering crystals that catch the light just right. It’s a token of kindness and respect, a gesture to show you’re thinking of her even before your paths have crossed.

With your arms full of gifts, you make your way through the bustling streets, feeling the warmth of the season and the love you have for everyone in your heart.

As you continue through the vibrant streets of Velaris, you think about the gifts for Feyre, Rhysand, and Cassian, wanting each of them to feel the thought and care you’ve put into their Solstice presents.

For **Feyre**, you know how much she values art and expression, how it centers her and allows her to find peace in times of chaos. You eventually come across a beautiful set of high-quality paints from an artisan's stall. The pigments are vibrant, and there’s an array of colors Feyre could use to bring life to her next masterpiece. Alongside the paints, you pick up a small, hand-crafted sketchbook with a leather cover embossed with Velaris' iconic skyline, a symbol of home and her new beginnings.

For **Rhysand**, the High Lord of the Night Court and someone whose burdens are heavy, you want to offer him something that will remind him to find moments of rest and joy, despite his responsibilities. After wandering a bit longer, you find an elegant silver cuff with an intricate, celestial design that mirrors the night sky—the stars and moons delicately engraved into the metal. It's imbued with a subtle magic that encourages calm and relaxation when worn. A small but meaningful reminder that he, too, deserves peace.

And then, there’s **Cassian**. His boundless energy, laughter, and warrior spirit make you smile as you think of him. You search for something that speaks to his strength but also shows that you understand the heart beneath his brash exterior. After much deliberation, you find the perfect gift—a beautifully crafted pair of leather vambraces, sturdy but detailed with intricate patterns of wings and flame, symbolic of both his Illyrian heritage and the inner fire he carries. There’s also a bottle of rare Illyrian whiskey from one of his favorite distilleries, a little something extra to bring him joy on Solstice night.

With every gift now carefully chosen, you feel a warm sense of satisfaction. Each present carries a piece of you, a reflection of how much these people mean to you, and you can already imagine their reactions as they unwrap their gifts. The Solstice, after all, is about connection, love, and light—something you’re more than happy to share with those you call family.

As you stand on the bustling street, snowflakes dusting your shoulders and your arms full of carefully chosen gifts, the weight of the bags starts to pull at you. You smile softly, thinking how wonderful it would be to have Azriel here to help carry them—and to see him, of course. Through the bond, you can feel his steady, quiet presence, a warm pulse of calm beneath your skin.

You reach out gently, letting your thoughts drift toward him. *Azriel?* you send, a soft, playful nudge through the bond. *I may have gotten a bit carried away with the Solstice shopping...* You glance down at the many bags you're struggling to hold. *If you're not too busy, do you think you could come rescue me?*

For a moment, there's silence, then you feel a ripple of amusement from him, his presence wrapping around your mind like a comforting shadow.

*Rescue, hmm?* he responds, his voice a deep, smooth caress in your mind. *I’ll be there in a moment, love.*

A warmth floods your chest at his words. Within minutes, you catch sight of his familiar form gliding effortlessly through the crowd, his wings tucked close to avoid the bustling shoppers. As he approaches, his shadows swirling gently at his sides, his hazel eyes lock onto yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Azriel takes in the sight of you, arms full of bags, and chuckles quietly. “Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says, his tone warm as he reaches for the bags, easily lifting them from your hands as if they weigh nothing. His fingers brush yours as he does, sending a shiver of warmth through you.

“Just a bit,” you reply, smiling up at him. “I didn’t realize how much I was carrying until I tried to walk back.”

Azriel shakes his head, his shadows whispering around you both as if they’re pleased to see you together. “Good thing I’m here, then,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as they linger on you. “Shall we?”

With his strong arm around you, you feel a sense of lightness, knowing that together you can face the chaotic streets and the busy holiday, each gift chosen with care and love for your new family. You walk side by side through Velaris, the snow falling softly around you, as Azriel quietly and effortlessly carries the weight that had become too much for you—just as he always does.

#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x female!reader #acotar reader imagine #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #Spotify

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toolsofmyenemy · 2 months

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🤓

You’re correct. It’s not subtle at all.

Elain and Lucien are MATES. Confirmed mates. Repeatedly confirmed over multiple books. And Lucien has been nothing short of perfection in giving Elain what she needs. Absolutely no indication that they are ill-suited. Fated mates gonna be just that. Fated.

Azriel and Gwyn have so much banter, chemistry and MATE language crammed into four pages of his bonus chapter. It borders on ridiculous how much. Plus “You’re the new ribbon, Az.” Need I also mention the retcon of having Azriel save Gwyn just so we can check off that shared history box. Check, check, checkity check.

Save your modicum of pity for people who will actually need it.

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #elucien #pro elucien #anti e/riel #gwynriel endgame #elucien endgame

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cynthiesjmxazrielslover · 2 months

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All things aside

Friendly reminder

Nesta literally rizzed Azriel, The Night Courts spymaster AND Shadowsinger in ACOSF and hugged him on solstice causing HIM TO BLUSH BOTH TIMES like I can't even. And not to forget even made azriel laugh she made fun of cassian.

And my personal fav

When she admits being a witch infront of Devlon lmao, and stated her business being witchcraft .

AND when she tells az that he's the new ribbon like she's such a gwynriel shipper. It's the cherry on top

she's too good we need to protect her at all costs.

#acotar #nesta archeron #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #Devlon #gwynriel #pro nesta

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qwimblenorrisstan · 3 months

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The Clandestine Culinarian Pt. 3 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the mating bond between you and Azriel snaps, he hides away in Rhys’ townhouse, spending time with Elain, only to run into you at Rita’s

Word Count: ~ 3.3k

Warnings: Angst, Rita’s, blades, hot dresses (and women)

A/N: Soo sorry it took me so long to write this, but I’ve been scheming this for days, hope you like it<3

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Requests are open!

Azriel had finally managed to calm himself down after an hour or two, with Rhys consoling him and Cassian quickly rushing to the townhouse to figure out what the hell was going on.

“She’s your mate? Am I hearing that right?”

“Yes, Cassian. And keep your mouth shut about it.”

Rhys replied, giving Cassian a pointed look before going back to watching Azriel closely. He was in shock, mainly. He’d thought that after all these months of getting close to her and comforting her and helping her adjust, Elain had to be his mate, just had to be. And she wasn’t.

He knew his anger at you was irrational, but he wanted Elain, not you, you were just some female he’d met and bought poisons from. You were deadly and cunning and ruthless, nothing like his sweet, soft, and precious Elain he’d grown to love. You were not what he wanted.

“I can’t stay there with her, Rhys-“

He managed to get out, before Feyre and Elain both slipped into the room, clearly wondering what was wrong and why Azriel’s face was red and puffy. Elain seemed to already know what was happening, based on the sadness in her eyes. Gods, he’d do anything to get rid of it, anything. He would go through an army to make her feel better, slaughter anyone he needed to, and do anything he could.

“Feyre, this is not the time, nor the place.”

Rhys said, a hint of something pleading in his eyes. Feyre seemed to want to help but understood that helping could come later. Right now was about damage control. She put one hand around Elain’s, before going to walk out of the room. However, Elain got four words out before being pulled away.

“Can he stay here?”

She asked, her tone so broken that he would stay here forever, the rest of his life if it would fix her. Cassian’s face hardened, clearly thinking, Rhys only sighed before giving a nod.

“You’ll stay here until we can work this out. Cassian…do you think she’s far enough along to pick up training with the Valkyries?”

Cassian sighed, knowing that while you had progressed very far in your months of training, there was no way in hell you were at the same level as Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn.

“I can try.”

He said, his tone already unsure. It wasn’t a definite no, but it wasn’t a yes either.

*********************************************************

After Azriel had left, the House felt noticeably emptier, to you at least. It wasn’t any sort of noise you missed, but just the way his presence was subtle but always heavy in whatever room he took up. You didn’t dare pull on the golden threads tying you to the shadowsinger, not when he’d seemed so shocked and…upset.

That had stung worse than him leaving, maybe. His face had been contorted in shock and hurt as if you hadn’t been his first choice, and the only reason you were even on the roster was because of the bond. You weren’t sure how to think about that.

Luckily, you barely got any time to think with the new training with Cassian you’d picked up. You knew that working those blades couldn’t be easy, but good gods you hadn’t expected it to be so difficult either. Nesta on occasion tried to help you, but you still failed the ribbon test every single goddamn time as the ribbon remained there, hanging from the doorpost, dancing in the wind and taunting you.

Your body was sore and aching, but you were more muscular than before, you’d admit. At least the training was worth something.

Your mind still kept wandering back to Azriel, and to Elain as well. You’d seen the way he looked at her, with a hint of hope and longing in his eyes, and how she looked at him like he was the oxygen she needed to breathe.

So, like you did with any other girl problems, you sought out Nesta. You found her in the smutty section of the library that was formed to match her tastes, seeking out a new book among the shelves.

She took one look at you, a sort of pity and empathy in her eyes that usually wasn’t there, and sighed, sitting down on a large windowsill and inviting you to sit next to her.

You sat down next to her, not knowing what to say before opening your mouth to speak.

“I-“

“I already know, I saw the whole shitshow go down.”

She said in that bland tone of hers, picking at her nails in what seemed like a way to cover up an anxious habit. You weren’t surprised she’d seen. It had been right around training time for Cassian and the Valkyries, and they’d probably seen the entire thing go down. Embarrassment flooded you before you could stop it, creeping up your cheeks as you stared down at the hardwood floor, hands shifting constantly as you swallowed.

“He’s..in love with Elain, isn’t he?”

You asked, your voice a lot more resigned than you would like it to be. Nesta seemed to think about it, glancing at you before speaking.

“I think he’s got a crush, and I won’t lie, I think he was just looking for his mate. Elain, though…she’s infatuated with him, a bit ridiculous considering she’s already got Lucien groveling for her.”

Nesta said, a hint of distaste in her tone as she mentioned the mating bond between Elain and Lucien. She was still protective over her sister, it seemed. Even if she didn’t agree with her choices.

“Do you think she’ll be mad? I mean, of course, she’ll be, but..”

You went on, before realizing you were rambling and cutting yourself off with a sigh. Nesta simply shrugged.

“She won’t be happy, but she’s Elain, what could she possibly do? Not let you have a slice of her pies?”

That got a little huff of laughter out of you, some much-needed laughter after everything. Nesta glanced over at you, looking you up and down, before getting up and offering you a hand.

“Me and the girls were planning a girl’s night at Rita’s tonight, would you like to come?”

You hesitated, before taking her hand and getting up, nodding.

“Yeah, I could use a drink or two.”

What she then displayed could only be described as a wolf’s grin, her hand slipping off of yours to grab the book that had been on the shelf she wanted the entire time.

“Good. Wear your sluttiest dress.”

She said, a conspiratorial tone in her voice before she slipped off into the winding labyrinth that was the library, ever-shifting and moving to adjust for her.

*********************************************************

“I’ll grab it.”

His dark voice spoke, reaching over the middle Archeron sister to grab the measuring cups that were just out of reach for her. His chest pressed ever so slightly against her back as he grabbed it, before placing it on the counter for her and then going back to maintaining a respectable distance away.

He could’ve sworn that she always kept those cups lower down, but they were higher this time. As if someone had deliberately placed them there. As if someone had wanted the help of someone taller, who always was there at every beck and call.

“Thank you.”

She spoke softly, smiling up at him with a warmth that could melt the sun itself. Elain looked ethereal in this light, and she’d looked beautiful even before being turned to High Fae. Now she could rival the Mother herself.

The months being in the townhouse had been hard at first, being constantly away from his mate, but slowly the urge to be near you and touch you and hold you had faded away, replaced by Elain. Now that he thought of it, he could barely remember what your face had looked like, or your voice…or anything about you.

It was a sign, he supposed. A sign that even if the Cauldron had paired you two together, fate didn’t agree, and he was fully content here, eating every little home-cooked meal Elain made him, savoring the unique taste that was her cooking.

She never let him watch her cook the full meal, insisting that he not know the secret ingredients to the recipes she’d originally made during the starving days when she, Feyre, and Nesta had lived in that tiny little cabin in the woods. One day, she’d let him know the entire recipe. And that day would be soon, he was sure.

“I heard Feyre’s going to Rita’s tonight, maybe we could go together?”

She offered, her smile warm and safe. Everything he’d prayed for when he’d heard stories from Rhysand’s mother of love affection and support. The hope that he’d one day have it. What had her name been?

He’d never been as happy and just so free as he’d been with Elain in her kitchen in the townhouse with her, and the others had noticed a bit as well. How he seemed a bit more prone to accidentally tripping while lost in thought of her, or how he seemed to daydream or sleep so much better.

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at Elain with a small smile. It was odd that she of all people, the cook and soft, gentle woman, sensitive and affectionate, wanted to go to a bar for a girl’s night out. She seemed much more like a restaurant type of female, but he didn’t question it. He was happy for any excuse to spend time with her.

“Sure. We could go. What time?”

He asked, his voice soft as he watched her bake what seemed like a sourdough starter. She seemed to know without even thinking.

“5:45 should be fine.”

She said. It struck him a bit odd how sure she seemed. He hadn’t heard her ask Feyre at all, and his shadows, though most chose to stay at the House of Wind with the other female, hadn’t noticed anything of it. But she was Elain, she probably just knew.

*********************************************************

“Another round?”

Nesta asked with a grin, you returned the grin, too drowned in drinks to even care how drunk you got tonight. “A drink or two” her ass, Emerie was downing another glass, probably going to regret it in the morning.

They’d all worn the sluttiest dresses they had, with Cassian lurking nearby in the bar, fully ready to bite the head off of any male who got a bit too handsy with Nesta.

“Absolutely,”

You replied, at which Nesta proceeded to order another round out of her own money. She was rich as hell since the High Lord paid her for whatever the hell she did. You didn’t particularly care as long as it kept the drinks coming.

“Careful with the drinks, Nes. Feyre said there’s been some lapses in their bank, and you’re the prime suspect.”

Cassian said, giving her a nudge with his wing. Everyone knew of Nesta’s previous behavior, buying rounds and rounds of drinks with the High Lord’s money, and wasting it.

“That’s bullshit, she knows I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

Nesta replied, simply rolling her eyes and going back to downing her drink, eying Cassian with no shame at all. He only gave a cocky grin and eyed her back. She was wearing a black dress that sat snug against all her best features, and Cassian was loving the view, as were the other men at Rita’s brave enough to ogle her.

You wore a silky red dress with a high slit in the side and a cut that showed plenty of your cleavage, not to mention how the fabric hung and was tight in just the right places to be flowing but also leave little to the imagination. It was enough to get you a cheap hookup, at the very least, based on the men watching you.

A good way to keep your mind off of Azriel.

You gave Nesta a look, and she gave a nod before you strode off to the prettiest male you could find in the room, one of the ones who’d been watching you the closest. A sly smile grew on his lips as his dark eyes glittered with lust. He knew what you were looking for, wearing that on a night like this.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

He purred, hand going around your waist as you slid into his lap. One of your hands went to curl around his bicep, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Yours, if you can handle me.”

You said back, voice smooth as the silk you were wearing. The male’s hands began to wander, and you didn’t even bother stopping them as he leaned in closer to you, a low chuckle coming from his lips.

“Care to come home with me?”

He murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He smelled of a male musk, his scent reeking of cheap alcohol and arousal. You were too drunk to care.

“Gladly,”

You murmured back to him, not bothering to glance back at Nesta or Cassian, or anyone else in the bar as the male slowly got to his feet, hand around your waist, and began leading you out of the bar, from the back entrance. Your attention was solely on him, on his touch.

That was until you saw Azriel and Elain right outside the bar, engaged in painfully slow, heated kisses.

*********************************************************

He’d gotten dressed in some casual enough clothing, not overly fancy for a bar, but not to where he was underdressing. Elain had donned a cute blue dress, looking straight from a fantastical cottage out of a book he’d once read when younger. Maybe Rhysand’s mother had read that one to him. He couldn’t remember anymore.

They’d slipped in quietly, having a few drinks, which Elain seemed to wrinkle her nose slightly at the taste of the alcohol, but seemed more keen on getting him drinks. Something that would’ve sent warning signs in his mind blaring if he’d been able to remember just what he was doing here.

Elain kept glancing around as if watching out or looking for someone, or hoping not to be spotted. He hadn’t asked her about it out of the courtesy of being polite, but it still made him curious, until his brain was too fuzzy to care.

“Let’s get out of this stuffy place,”

She had whispered to him under her sweet breath, leading him outside to the side exit of the bar, before pulling him into a kiss. He couldn’t recall how or why it was happening, but his lips were on his, and he couldn’t find in himself the strength to pull away. His limbs felt wobbly, his shadows moving slower than usual as if weighed down by something. His head was swimming. What had been in that alcohol? His mind tried to think, but couldn’t. Everything felt so, so heavy.

And then he saw her. He could recognize her anywhere. His mate. His soulmate. His partner seemed by the Cauldron itself. She was dressed in what could only be described as an extremely revealing dress, red and silky, her cleavage and thigh on full display to the male who hungrily watched her, leading her to gods know where to get his fill and leave.

He saw something in her break when his gaze met hers, and Elain separated from the kiss, glancing over at the female with what looked like a mockingly empathetic smile.

Two things hit him at the same time; the fact that Feyre hadn’t been anywhere in that bar, even though Elain said she’d been invited by her, and the fact that ever since Elain had started feeding him every meal, breakfast lunch, and dinner, he’d completely forgotten the face of his mate, forgotten things he should know, his guard had fallen down, and now he was weak and put in the spotlight as the villain.

And then he hurled his guts out all over the ground, sobering up in an instant as he saw your tears. He needed to fix you, to fix this and figure out what the hell had been happening.

Even as he felt the slap of your hand against his cheek, and saw Elain go slightly pale with realization, he realized there wasn’t any fixing to be done right now.

This was about damage control.

*********************************************************

“You fucking bastard!”

You yelled as you slapped him, hot tears rolling down your cheeks before you could stop them.

The male that had been so hungry before stalked off, clearly not eager to be involved. Coward.

Azriel had come here knowing that you’d be here, and that bitch Elain had probably led him. He looked wrong. He was a bit pale and seemed dazed, out of it. His wings were dropping and scraping against the ground, eyes drooping. What was wrong with him? Even the shadows seemed sedated.

“What did you do to him?”

You seethed to Elain, and she seemed pale and wide-eyed as she began stammering.

“I- I had a vision where you hurt him, and I thought that if he forgot then-“

Cassian burst through the door of the side exit, alert and looking completely sobered up from his earlier drinks. Nesta was stumbling behind him, wondering what the hell was going on.

He was by Azriel’s side before you could even speak, helping his poisoned brother up and hoisting him into his arms. You were eliminated as a threat and the only person who’d been around him long enough to get anything into Azriel’s system….

“What was it?”

He demanded from Elain, voice harsh and pissed off. Elain sniffled, tears welling in her eyes as her hands shook slightly, she swallowed before speaking.

“Volucrae.”

She almost whispered, her voice so quiet and timid that even you could barely make it out.

Volucrae.

The seer bitch had poisoned Azriel with one of the most deadly poisons in existence, and the only place she could’ve possibly gotten it…

“You stole from my room?”

You asked, voice horrified and shrill. The leftovers you’d had from when your old shop had been burned to the ground by Kier and his men you’d carried on you, hiding in the room.

Elain only swallowed, nodding. Volucrae was deadly, yes, but in small enough quantities, it could cause confusion, memory loss, tremors, strokes, seizures, and more. She’d risked the shadowsinger’s life just because of a vision, a vision of you hurting Azriel, a vision that had been fulfilled with the slap, all because of Elain’s actions.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t.”

You and Cassian snapped in union as he took off with Azriel in his arms, now unconscious, probably going to find Madja to get any sort of solution to it, leaving you, a drunk Nesta being dragged away by Emerie, Gwyn, and Elain.

You stormed off, going anywhere you could to avoid everyone. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to speak with any of them.

You winnowed straight into the House of Wind’s training grounds, picking up the Valkyrie blade and going straight into furious training, the only way to burn off this pure anger making you tremble and shake.

It was then, in the middle of the night, barely sober, still crying and angry out of your mind, that you cut straight through the ribbon.

The one-half drifted gracefully to the ground, falling like a leaf in the wind as the moonlight caught and illuminated little pink highlights of it.

It fell and fell, until reaching the ground, settling lightly on the dirt of the training grounds.

You stared down at it until it was all you could see and think of and hear until it was burned into your mind as your hands gripped the blade so hard your knuckles went white.

And you stared, until the possibility of Azriel’s death faded completely from your mind, until all you could focus on was the future.

And you swung your blade again.

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