#azriel x Eris vanserra

[chairofchaos]

When the Blood Burns

Blood (Part 1)

Burns (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves drawn together during the first war with Hybern. (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit (see warnings- I mean it. I can give details in DMs if you want specifics before reading)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: violence, homophobia/homophobic violence (if you want details my DMs are open), graphic depictions of wounds and wound care with a very rudimentary understanding of the subject, alcohol use, and much less important than the others but still concerning: unedited.

A/N: Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for once again providing me with the perfect divider for this fic. Shoutout to @unanswered-stars forgiving me permission to do whatever I want with this request. And please know I tried to make it short. But now it's almost 10k so this is part 1 of 2. Maybe 3.

Their first meeting was unremarkable. Azriel, blinded with rage over Eris’ rejection of Mor and the ensuing pain it had caused his family, thought nothing of the young lord other than how callous he had been, and avoided him under the orders of his High Lord.

So the first time they had truly met was in a war tent five years and seven months into the war with Hybern. Eris stood with his elder brother behind Beron’s seat at the round table. Rhys and Azriel stood shoulder to shoulder behind Rhys’ father. When the High Lords had dismissed their advisors for a recess in planning, somehow only Eris and Azriel found themselves walking outside. 

They were silent. Azriel scanned the passing troops for any sign of Cassian. It had been three weeks since either he or Rhys had seen him, but there was a chance, stationed here near the western battle grounds, that they would encounter him. Still, even Azriel’s shadows hadn’t been able to locate his brother. 

The shadows' presence was thin. There were only so many he could task, only so many he could control. Only a fraction of his usual cloud of shades stayed with him. Still, they whispered to him. 

“The Autumn lord watches you,” they hissed. They seemed less concerned than intrigued. It wasn’t often people stared directly at him, and yet when Azriel turned his head, the lordling was staring, openly and with no concern.

“Can I help you?”

Eris shrugged evenly. His face was impassive, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care Azriel would notice the shuffle of his feet. “No.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have something you want to say.”

Eris’ lips pinched, his eyes darting to the tent entrance. “You have less shadows this time.”

“Yes.”

Eris waited, but Azriel was more patient and well aware that the Lord just wanted him to speak. Finally, Eris sighed. “Are you… well?”

Well? Azriel was… oh. He dared a glare. The lord was nosy. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You have less shadows. That isn’t a symptom of something being wrong?”

“No. It’s a symptom of being at war.”

“Ah,” the lord breathed. “That’s… good.”

Azriel didn't bother to respond before he turned and walked back into the tent. Such an odd male.

Two months passed before they crossed paths again. Azriel had shadow-walked to take a message from his High Lord to the High Lord of Winter. Rhys had been sent away as well. There was little to lure him back, so he would take advantage of the distance between the two encampments to take a night away. It was already after dark. He could safely return in the morning with no one noticing.

Once he retrieved the paper with the instructions, he walked the encampment shrouded in shadows. Here, Winter and Autumn soldiers did not mingle. In fact, the road Azriel walked through the camp was so stark a dividing line he found himself all alone. Except…

“Oof!”

A figure had darted awkwardly from behind a Winter tent. They were looking over their shoulder, and had plowed straight into Azriel. 

Azriel snarled, wings flaring behind him to keep himself righted as the figure fell at his feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled, stepping back. His hand instinctively rested on Truth Teller’s handle while he glared at the figure. The road was so dark he couldn’t even see the insignia on the soldier’s tunic.

“I- My apologies.” It took Azriel the time it took for the male to scramble to his feet to place the voice.

“Vanserra?”

“Shadowsinger,” was the response. It was curt in a way Eris’ attempts at conversation hadn’t been previously. Yet this time, Azriel’s shadows said nothing.

“You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I know,” Eris snapped.

“Snippy tonight, aren’t we?” He had been moving quickly, and yet was no longer rushing. It was odd enough for Azriel to order shadows to examine him. It was dark, so it was easy for them to go unnoticed. 

“Do I owe you courtesy?” was the bitter response.

“You crashed into me.” His shadows slithered about his ears, talking over one another.

“And I apologized.”

It was then that the shadows’ one-word report made sense. Blood. There was blood gushing from the male’s body. When he paused, Azriel could smell the metallic tang from Eris’ general direction, distinct from the days old blood scent of the camp around them. It was enough to send his shadows into a vague fury, as if they couldn’t decide whether this was something to be concerned about given who the male in question was. 

Eris waited, standing there in complete stillness. 

“You’re injured,” Azriel finally settled on. 

Eris snorted. “And? So is everyone.”

“It isn’t a war wound. This camp has not seen battle in over a week and that wound is fresh.”

“Does it matter?” Eris snapped. “I don’t know why you bother to bring it up at all.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “Because if you’re fighting next to my brother your injury could get him killed. I know you haven’t seen much battle, but from what I’ve heard your father is doing everything he can to keep you on the front lines to get you killed. I’d rather not give him the satisfaction if it means my brother dies.”

Autumn and Night court soldiers had been fighting alongside each other frequently. With Winter replacing Night Court forces in this camp, chances were dwindling, but it wasn’t a risk Azriel was willing to take.

Eris tried a new tactic: complete silence. Still, Azriel saw his silhouette cross his arms defensively. It was a bad move. His hands were pinned where they were, and he was already off balance. Azriel took the opportunity to reach a hand out and shove the male’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

Eris’ sharp intake of breath gave Azriel more pause than he expected. “I’ll tend your wound,” Azriel said gruffly. “I refuse to let you get killed over some stupid fight with a soldier from another court.”

Still, Eris didn’t move. 

“You can walk, can’t you? You were doing fine when you ran into me.”

“I’m fine,” Eris bit out. “Leave.”

Azriel snorted. Now he definitely wouldn’t leave the male alone. “No. You’re in more danger like that than you know.”

“And what would you know of it?” Eris all but hissed at him, arms uncrossing to clench against his sides. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Azriel snapped back. “I should terrify you. I could have killed you about thirty different ways in the course of this conversation.”

���You’re not touching my– wound.” Eris’ voice broke. 

“You aren’t tending it yourself.”

“I’ll go to a healer.”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “You won’t. Because if your father finds out he’ll use it to his advantage. Why does he hate you so much?”

“I can handle it myself,” Eris’ voice was losing all conviction and confidence. 

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I trust you know somewhere safe enough. I’ll get the supplies and meet you there. A shadow will tell me where you end up, or I can winnow us there.”

That seemed to give Eris pause. “I thought shadowsingers did something called shadow-walking.”

Azriel balked. It was rare anyone bothered to know the difference, let alone remark on it. He nodded, then remembered the male likely couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Can we shadow-walk?” Now, the lord just sounded tired.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“North of camp, there’s a glade.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes.” Eris reached his right hand out.

Azriel gripped the male’s wrist roughly with his own right hand, binding their hands together with shadows who seemed all too eager. “Don’t let go,” he warned. 

“I won’t.”

A blink and a breath of complete darkness followed before they arrived in the clearing, which Azriel’s shadows had found quickly. A small fire was reduced near to ashes in the center of the glade, but it was more light than the road had held. Eris moved to drop Azriel’s hand, but the shadowsinger shook his head, motioning for the lord to stay silent and wait.

The shadows not binding them together scattered, darting around the trees at the outskirts and winding back to Azriel once they had cleared the area and confirmed its safety. “Safe. Safe. Safe,” was their chorus, one after the other. 

When Azriel was satisfied, he sent a third of them for supplies, tasking another third to unroll the lord’s bedroll, which they had found tucked in an oak, next to the fire. Dropping Eris’ hand, he crossed to a small pile of wood at the edge of the glade and collected half of it to bank the fire. Eris stayed where he was, watching silently. 

“Come sit,” Azriel ordered, pointing to the bedroll as he squatted to blow at the cinders and coals and encourage what little flame was left to grow, to light the new wood and give them more light and heat. Eris made no move to help him, so Azriel didn’t bother to ask. 

With the increasing light, Azriel could see the dark gleaming of what had to be blood down Eris’ thigh as he walked. There was a lot. The side of his leg was saturated to the top of his boot, while the wound seemed to originate near his hip bone. It had to be nasty for Eris to be bleeding that much. That explained why he hadn’t offered to help with the fire, or, better yet, to feed the fire himself with his power. Yet, he walked. 

That took strength. Azriel almost found it in himself to be impressed as the male lowered himself gracefully to the ground. 

His shadows had begun piling bandages and other important things by Azriel’s side. He sent one of them off in pursuit of a new pair of pants for the lord, who wouldn’t be wearing this pair again without an excellent laundress, and those who could keep secrets were in short supply in a war camp when information was money.

“Take your pants off,” Azriel commanded. Eris winced.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I'll have to cut them off.”

Eris hesitated, his eyes darting to Truth Teller. “Be careful.”

How badly hurt was he, that he would allow Azriel to have a knife that close to his skin, to vital blood supply? 

As the light increased, so did Azriel’s concern that the male’s condition may not be as stable as he originally thought. His skin seemed to pale more and more with every flare of the fire. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chilly night around them. And he was obedient. Vanserras, in Azriel's admittedly limited experience, were never obedient. Certainly not to orders given from a Night Court grunt.

As if they sensed his growing concern, shadows dispatched to scan the male again. They returned with whispers of blood and wounds– multiple. Azriel nearly sighed. This was perhaps a bigger job than he anticipated. He sent shadows now to retrieve his own bedroll and bag. He’d be damned if the last thing anyone saw before the autumn lord died was the two of them together, and there was no real way to guarantee he hadn’t been seen with Eris on that road. Damn it all.

“How many wounds are there?” he asked, unsheathing Truth-Teller and setting the supplies beside Eris.

“Just the one.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you die, it’s my wings they’ll come after.”

Eris glanced over Azriel’s shoulder at the reddish membranes which were his constant companion, his pride and joy.

“Three.”

“Only three?”

“Only three,” Eris confirmed.

“Where?”

Eris gestured at his right shoulder, waved a hand over his injured leg, and then looked away.

“That’s two,” Azriel commented. “You’re going to need to take that tunic off, too, but let’s start with your leg.”

Eris laid back. Azriel reached into his boot to retrieve a flask and offer it up. “Whiskey. It’ll take the sting off.”

Eris grimaced, but took the flask anyways, draining what was left of the alcohol from it before handing it back. 

Azriel knelt at his side, the fire on Eris’ other side giving him light to work. Truth Teller made quick work of a cut through Eris’ pants from ankle to waist, and Azriel sheathed the blade quickly. When he removed the fabric a barrier which had begun to form to protect the wound would be removed, and he needed to know everything he could before that happened.

“What blade was used?”

Eris blinked at him slowly. He was fading, fast. “A dagger.”

“Was it poisoned?”

“No,” Eris shook his head with conviction.

“Was there anything special about the blade?”

“Standard Winter court issue,” he said. 

Azriel nodded. “Alright. This is going to hurt.”

Eris paused, looking at Azriel, then turning his head to the fire. Azriel barely heard the quiet “I know” which followed.

Azriel pulled the fabric of the male’s pants away from him and grimaced. Eris didn't even flinch. The cut went across the male’s hipbone nearly twelve inches to the outside of his upper thigh, getting deeper as if Eris had rolled into the knife to protect his midline.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel ordered as his hands began to move. Damn it all, they were cold. And tired. He was so tired. But he couldn’t let Eris die. For some reason, he needed the male to live.

“No.” Eris countered with a fire he hadn’t shown all evening. It was the first anger Azriel had heard from the male, and it awoke something in him. He dumped three antiseptic potions across the wound. Eris barely moved, blinking up at the stars.

“You could die,” Azriel snarled, pressing bandages against the seeping wound. “Why? You are the son of a high lord. If it was a standard issue Winter court blade it likely wasn't anybody of your status. Why protect them?”

Eris bit his lower lip. Azriel pulled Truth Teller out to cut through what was left of the male’s pants and underwear and remove them. A long strip of fabric wound around the male’s waist, then around his upper thigh, to secure the padding of bandages against the long wound. When Azriel was certain the bands wouldn’t move, he tied them off in a quick knot and looked up at the lord’s face. 

His eyes were closed, his face turned slightly toward the fire. He looked slightly flushed, and yet entirely too pale. His breathing was shallow. He needed water. Food, too. He didn’t seem to be interested in answering any more questions. Maybe those things would loosen his lips.

First, the other wounds. The removal of all his clothing revealed a gash along his shoulder, about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, but it was angled, and the skin could be folded back away from the wound. Azriel stitched that one with quick stitches. He would have stitched the large one, but without any indication that it wouldn’t get infected, he was unsure about closing it with the sutures which would solidify by the time the horizon had light on it. An infection growing beneath the skin was much worse than a scar from skin knitting itself back together.

The last wound didn’t immediately present itself, so Azriel had nudged Eris until he grudgingly rolled onto his side.

His bare back was a maze of scars. Azriel was struck immediately by how well his hands blended with the mottled skin of Eris’ back, burns seemingly crisscrossed by the stripes of what had to have been made by a very long, thick whip. It turned his stomach to see just how broken the male’s back was. They weren’t that different in age, and Azriel had his fair share of scars. But this was a level of brutality Azriel hadn’t expected to find carved into the male’s skin. It was no doubt he hadn’t flinched at the stitches, or even the bandaging. He had to be intimately familiar with both.

One wound on his back, a long stripe across his shoulder blade, was red and struggling to close. Azriel stitched that closed, too, before throwing the bandages he had used to wipe the male’s blood away into the fire. Seeming to know it was over, Eris rolled back onto his back. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Azriel grabbed his bag from where the shadows had dumped it unceremoniously behind him and retrieved a tin of dried meat and crackers.

“Eat,” he ordered, setting the tin on Vanserra's stomach. “I’m getting us water.”

Eris cracked an eye open to stare at him. “Fine.”

Azriel ordered some shadows to scout ahead for water, and some to watch over the lordling, as he unrolled his own bedroll next to Eris. Better to have the fire lord between him and the fire, he told himself.

His shadows returned with a satisfactory report, so he went when he was certain Eris would eat more than a bite or two.

On his return, the container sat on his bedroll, half the food gone.

“You should eat more,” Azriel said, nudging it towards him. 

Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink, then,” he tried. Eris nodded, reaching a reluctant hand to grip the offered bottle.

He propped himself up on an elbow to drink, and swallowed until he finished the whole bottle with a gasp. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He felt as though he hovered over the lord, but he found himself unsettled. “I’ll take the watch.”

Eris didn’t argue or say they didn’t need one. It would have been a lie neither of them would have accepted. He just nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes again.

Azriel didn’t bother to wake him through the rest of the night. When light began to peek over the horizon, Eris stirred on his own, sitting up with a groan and a stretch. 

“Thank you,” he said again. 

Azriel nodded. “I need to check your–”

“No,” Eris said abruptly, sitting. “Enough. I will go back to camp, and so should you.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t fight like this.”

Eris smirked up at him. “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Azriel narrowed his eyes.

Eris shrugged, shuffling awkwardly until he was on his feet, even though he panted. “That’s fine.”

“I just spent last night putting you back together. If I hear you undo that work, I’ll kill you,” Azriel protested. Eris seemed to soften at that. “I think you should go.”

Azriel bristled even as his shadows obeyed his silent order to retrieve all his things. “Fine.”

“I’ll burn away any trace of you being here,” Eris assured him, waving a hand at his bedroll. It disappeared.

Azriel nodded. “Check those wounds this morning.”

Eris nodded. “I will.”

When Azriel had his bag and bedroll in hand, he shadow-walked away, Eris not sparing him more than a moment’s glance as he disappeared from view.

Their third meeting was much like the first. Outside a war tent, the Autumn court delegation lingered in hushed circles. Their forces had been hit hard in the last of Hybern’s offensives. No doubt they were reconsidering their participation in the ongoing war, if only to save the rest of their soldiers. Still, from the thick of the fray strode Eris Vanserra, his gait no less even than it had been the first times Azriel had seen him.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch him as he stood outside the tent. They had tightened the circle allowed in. The recent losses had been too stark to eliminate the possibility that someone on the council or one of their advisors was selling information or even was an agent of Hybern. It was no doubt that fact which kept the sons close, and everyone else at a very great distance. Still, Azriel could watch from here. Could keep an eye out for either of his brothers. 

Shadows told him nothing of them. Their names were not on the rolls. But here was Eris. Alive, breathing. He would have known if Eris had died. And Eris had not.

“Shadowsinger,” a curt acknowledgement. Azriel nodded firmly in return. No words could explain his relief, even to himself. Eris rolled his shoulders, his embroidered coat restricting his motions. Instead of walking past Azriel, the lord stopped at his side.

“Thank you,” Eris murmured. If Azriel hadn’t been attuned to the male's presence, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was dangerous to speak this openly. Eris had to know that. Surely, a High Lord’s son would know that speaking to the spymaster of another court was dangerous. Surely.

Azriel turned to walk away. He would not risk it, but Eris still tried. “Azriel.”

He spun to face Eris, schooling his face into an angry mask. “What?”

Eris’ eyes flashed with an answering anger, then cooled. “I saw your brother. The soldier.”

This was unexpected. Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How would Eris know he searched for his brothers?

As if anticipating the question, Eris stepped closer. “Your shadows, the ones who stayed, told me. I asked them how I could… repay you. They told me. He’s in the next camp over. Injured, but not badly. Ask for Madja.”

Shadows zipped away from Azriel faster than he could respond. He had left some of them with Eris that morning to ensure the male checked and cleaned his wounds.

Now, Eris watched them go, nodding once, then walking on past Azriel. Eris knew what it meant to see those shadows go out. It was all he had needed to see. 

Azriel may not be able to get away on his own, but he could send those shadows. They would find Cassian, who would recognize them and maybe even be able to get away for a day. 

More pressing was that the shadows had spoken to Eris. Had deemed him worthy of information about Azriel. That happened so rarely. Only when Azriel was truly in need of something, or on the rarest of occasions, when he was in true danger, would his shadows bother to try to communicate with anyone. Never before had they shared with someone as nonsensical as Eris Vanserra. He would ask them later why. He hoped they would tell him.

Someone was calling his name. It was the middle of the night, and his shadows were rousing him from sleep with a frantic energy. Months had passed since he had seen Cassian, or Rhys. He had only just gotten back from a scouting mission in Hybern that evening. The war still raged, still slowly marching them all toward death. 

But someone was calling his name. “Hurry,” his shadows urged him. “Fight.” 

The second prompt was enough to speed him. He rarely slept without weapons at hand, and he grabbed two Illyrian blades and strapped them to his back with the speed of a soldier who had been at war for over six years. 

Finally ready, he ordered his shadows to take him where they willed. Emerging from their total darkness into the moonless night with Truth Teller clenched in his hand, he found himself at the edge of that familiar glade. 

This time, it was anything but peaceful. Eris fought against three warriors dressed in dark clothes, their faces concealed by darkness. Azriel recognized the fighting style more than the clothing, and it was for good reason Eris didn’t bother to use his powers. 

In a split second, Azriel shadow-walked to be behind the Autumn court soldiers, disarming one with ease while Eris held his own against the second. Azriel’s blade slid into the side of the throat and was pulled through the front, removing the attacker’s ability to scream as his life faded to a bloody end. 

The third spun from Eris to Azriel. He opened his mouth, but behind him, Eris flicked a dagger from his waist, the blade glinting before Azriel saw the male’s head jerk forward. When he fell, the handle of the blade stuck at a perfect right angle from the base of the male’s skull.

As Azriel had drawn Eris’ attention, his moment’s glance to throw the blade had left his left side unguarded. The remaining autumn warrior took advantage of the opening, and launched himself at the lord. His hand closed around the lord’s throat, and Eris was knocked toward Azriel, but Azriel was faster than the other warrior had perhaps anticipated.

In the span of moments, Azriel had removed the male’s hand from Eris’ throat, disarmed him, and bound him hand and feet with a cord he kept coiled in his boot for moments like this. His shadows had been dispatched to guard the borders of the glade.

Eris rubbed his neck as he offered a wad of cloth to Azriel, who crouched beside the bound warrior. Azriel took the fabric and shoved it into his mouth until he was satisfied the male wouldn’t be able to remove it.

“You need to kill him,” Eris said quietly. 

“I know,” Azriel said. The male’s eyes settled on Azriel as if he had only just now recognized the winged warrior. He began to scream through the fabric. Azriel’s remaining shadows spun around the warrior, examining him.

“Why do you scream?” Eris asked, crouching beside Azriel. “You chose to attack me. Your death was predetermined.”

The male’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris, then back to Azriel again as his screaming increased in volume.

Eris snorted. “You truly think the death he will give you is worse than the death I could?”

Azriel couldn’t help but watch the Lord of Autumn as Eris stood. 

“A word, Azriel.” Eris looked down his nose at the screaming soldier. Azriel stood. They walked some distance away before Eris paused and looked over his shoulder at their prisoner.

“We have to kill him,” Eris said. “He recognized you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Azriel said. “Why did they come after you in the first place?”

Eris sighed. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and got caught doing it. Whether my father sent them or they took it upon themselves, I don’t know.”

Azriel paused. “What, exactly, were you doing?” If Eris was spying for Hybern, if he had used Azriel somehow…

Eris sighed. “I slept with one of their brothers.”

Oh. Oh. Prythian was generally safe for males like Eris. And Azriel. But some families held old ways of thinking that would incense hatred beyond caring that Eris was the son of a High Lord. It was that which kept Azriel hiding. He lacked the protection offered to Eris. Currently, he lacked even the protection of his brothers. 

So Azriel just nodded. When Azriel didn’t say anything, Eris sighed.

“How did you come here?”

“My shadows sent me. They were concerned.”

“Have they been watching me?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel admitted. “Sometimes they follow their own whims.”

Eris nodded. “I can handle him.”

“Do you want to?” What was one more body on Azriel’s tally? He’d killed nearly thirty yesterday, getting away from the Hybern guard who had started asking too many of the right questions. What was one more, in the face of the river of blood which had flowed from his hands?

“Not really,” Eris sighed. 

“You sound weary,” Azriel dared. After six years he was more than used to the ebb and flow of fights and battles, yet his heart still pounded in his chest.

“I am.”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Eris said nothing in return but bowed his head.

Azriel crossed back to the bound warrior, who had started trying to roll and scramble away from them with whatever faculty he retained. Azriel placed a booted heel against the man’s collarbone, his toes grounded to the earth as he stood above the male.

“I’m going to take out the gag. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what they wanted. If you don’t, I’ll torture you. This is your one chance. Do you understand?”

The male nodded, eyes glinting with starlight and terror. Azriel bent to remove the gag, whispering, “Scream, and I’ll gag you with something much more unpleasant than this fabric.”

He ripped it from the male’s mouth, and to his credit, the male said nothing.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. We came with him,” the male tipped his head at one of the bodies. “His brother died, and when they found his body on the battlefield, that bastard’s scent was all over him.”

“Eris’?” Azriel questioned. 

The male nodded. “They were… intimate.” He said it with a snarl, as though Azriel would not know and was being deceived. 

“You wanted to kill him.”

“Yes. For that, yes. It’s not–”

“Enough,” Eris’ voice sounded behind Azriel.

Azriel glared at him. “If it’s enough, kill him yourself.”

Eris shrugged. “Fine.”

The male opened his mouth to start screaming again, but Eris flicked his slender fingers. Azriel stepped back quickly as a reddish glow started emanating from the male’s throat and smoke began to billow from his mouth. 

Eris was burning him. Burning him from the inside out. The light of life in the male’s eyes was steadily replaced by the glow of that slow burning fire until the male was nothing more than ash in the wind.

Eris turned to Azriel. “Thank you for coming.”

Azriel nodded. Why was he so hesitant to leave? The second the male was dead, he should have walked away. Dawn was nearing again. He would need to be back before the High Lord woke in case he had further questions after last night’s debrief. Six years and ten months of this. Azriel wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

“Thank you for finding Cassian for me.” 

Eris smiled at that, not even looking as he lit the other two bodies on fire. “You saved my life.”

“You gave me the chance to see him. It had been a long time. It means more than I think you realize.”

Eris shook his head. “I imagine if I had a brother I trusted I would do just about anything in my power to see him.”

Azriel chuckled at that. “No friends among family?”

Eris sighed ruefully. “I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither. Except–”

They finished the sentence together, “my mother.”

“If you didn’t send for me,” Azriel crossed his arms, “Why did you trust I wasn’t there with them?”

Eris tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “My father has railed against your… proclivities in sexual partners. How he knew, I have no idea. I’ve never even heard whispers of you from anywhere else. I knew, if my father was somehow right, your presence was either on orders or to help me. I was willing to bet you wouldn’t kill me for something we share.”

“Beron knows about me?”

“Somehow. I think he had someone tailing you for a time, after Mor.”

Azriel bristled. He had been careful at 19, but apparently not careful enough. It was likely the best explanation. “You have no idea? Truly?”

Eris shrugs. “I was young when he brought it up. The timing seems right. I never put much thought into it.”

“So you assumed I was safe because of that.”

“No,” Eris laughed, quietly, but unmistakably amused. “No, I mostly assumed you were safe because the last time you saved my life you told me not to undo all of your hard work.”

“What happened then?” Azriel was demanding. He felt as though he was truly seeing the Autumn Lord, seeing him open and unguarded for the first time. Maybe now he could get answers.

Eris seemed to be willing to indulge him. “A winter court soldier didn’t realize who I was until I was on my way out of his tent. He tried to kill me.”

“It seems to me like you’re sleeping with the wrong people,” Azriel commented. Eris finally turned to face him, levelling him with a molten stare Azriel found himself drawn into. “And who are the right people?”

“People who have as much to lose as you do.”

“Like you?” Eris challenged. 

Azriel shrugged. “Are you offering?”

Eris smirked, turning to face Azriel. Dawn was growing, and the red light of morning lighting the leaves around him gave him the appearance of a body of molten fire. “If you ever wish to take me to bed, Shadowsinger, show up. I have spells on the glade. It will let me know you’re here.”

Azriel laughed. “Chances are slim, Vanserra.”

“But not zero.” Eris raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a slightly mocking reflection of Azriel’s own stance. 

“No.” Azriel admitted. “Not zero.”

[azrisweek]

A stunning Azris piece by elizianna.the.one 💚

There is a nsfw version of this if you head over to her Patreon, it’s linked in her Instagram bio ;)

Reposted with explicit permission from the artist, no additional reposts are allowed. Reblogs are always welcome. The characters depicted above belong to Sarah J Maas.

Link to the original post.

◆ ONLY NINETEEN DAYS LEFT UNTIL AZRIS WEEK 2023 ◆

[mischiefmanagers]

the odds of azris being canon are low but never zero

[the-darkestminds]

Autumn's Shadow: Chapter 12

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

Summary: A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

a/n: I decided to stop posting the full fic on Tumblr, the chapters are getting kind of long and it feels like a lot. So you can find this chapter on AO3 with the link below! I plan (hope) to update once per week now that I have everything outlined. Hope you enjoy :)

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Read on AO3!

Full Chapter List

Tag List: @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @jules-writes-stories @christeareads @chunkypossum @ninthcircleofprythian

[amarillis39]

To Kill The Deathless

Chapter 2 is now live.

“Come, Shadowsinger,” Eris repeated. “We have a High Lord to overthrow.” Azriel’s face changed from wild, confused and ready to defend himself, into the familiar cruel, vicious smile, and bright eyes that promised violence. “Take me to Rhysand.” Shadows wrapped around him and he was whisked into the Night.

[achaotichuman]

A Court of Song and Desolation Rewritten

Almost a year and three months ago, I published the first chapter of A Court of Song and Desolation (then named Get Out While You Still Can (Please Don't Leave Me)

But since then, my life has done a complete 180, my writing has changed and I lost track of ACOSAD, in the end I put it on the back burner and have neglected it.

However, I am extremely attached to this fic, the characters, the plot, the story, and I wanted to try and do it justice. So, this is the rewritten version. The old version is still up to be read but it will not longer be updated. I hope you guys enjoy this version of it! (link for AO3 at bottom of the post)

(Main) POVs

Tamlin

Lucien Vanserra

Elain Archeron

Koschei

Azriel

(Main) Relationships

Tamlin x Lucien Vanserra

Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Elain Archeron x Gwyneth Bedara

Koschei x Male Character

Summary

In the low lamplight, I was free Heaven and hell were words to me When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth Work Song: Hozier

It's been a year since the final battle of Hybern, and Spring remains in ruin. Darkness fabrics the land as its High Lord rots forgotten. Lucien, being unable to stand the distance growing between him and the male he once called his closest friend, decides to bring him to the Human Lands. But soon, a new threat tied to Koschei begins to unearth itself, promising to uproot Prythian entirely, and it has set its eyes on Tamlin.

Elain Archeron is lost to her dreams and visions, reality blurring, time and space intertwining and unravelling. Memories of who she once was are twisted now, and a woman from her past has been haunting her. After meeting Mintheal and Emerald, two escapees from the Hewn City, she decides it's beyond time to step beyond the Night Court and take fate into her own hands.

The Death God Koschei is the last threat left to eliminate, no one has yet seen the strings that move him, and the puppet master has decided its their time to come out from behind the curtain.

Dm or reply in notes if you want to be tagged for updates (:

[acourtofladydeath]

This is @born-to-riot but I’m on my phone so it won’t let me ask you with my account. But if you’re taking short requests can you please talk about the first time Eris lets Azriel have complete control of him (sexually and/or aftercare) like Eris is so in his head all the time I want to see some trust and just let him let go and azriel can help him do that idk (shadows as blindfolds and restraints and feeling Azriel’s scars on his skin are highly encouraged but not necessary) (also I haven’t requested a Drabble in a minute so idk if this counts) have fun :)

Alrighty, so I partially listened and partially did not. This is not sexually based aftercare, but Azriel is still taking care of Eris after something happens so I'M GONNA COUNT IT. Here's your drabble! (Which I managed to keep under 1K by 6 words and I'm very proud.)

Read "The Wall Comes Down" here on AO3, or below the cut.

TW: Mild descriptions of injuries from canon typical violence.

Azriel’s shadows were frantic as they pulled him faster and faster toward their mate. Hurry they practically yelled at him he needs us. One word kept coming through clearer than the rest, and each time he heard it, Azriel picked up his pace. Pain.

As he reached the hallway of Eris’s room, he began to see the trail of blood, leading from where he knew the Autumn Court dungeons lie, where Beron loved to take his sons. Barreling through the door, terrified about what he was about to see, Azriel tugged once more on the bond that had been silent for far too long. 

His breath stopped entirely as he took in his mate, beaten and broken, lying face down on the rug in front of the crackling fireplace, as if it had taken all of this strength just to make it into the room. “Eris…” Azriel’s voice broke as he spoke, rushing to turn his mate over. “Azriel, is that you?” Eris stirred as he was jostled, wincing in pain at the bruises and cuts littering his unclothed abdomen. The faint tinge of faebane around the edges of the wounds and the rag stained the same clutched in Eris’s hand told Azriel all he needed to know. 

Azriel went to reach for the cloth, but Eris pulled it away, inhaling sharply with the quick motion. “No, I can do it. I can take care of myself.” Eris rolled out of his mate’s arms, curling in on his body to try and protect himself from whatever he perceived would happen if he ever let anyone take care of himself. He couldn’t be weak, couldn’t ever show fault…not if he wanted to survive.

Eris tried to sit up, grinding his teeth together as he found the pain, pretending not to notice the shadows gathered around him, trying to ease his motions. Azriel sat back, present but silent, letting his mate work through this himself as much as he could bear. As Eris went to clean the next spot the pain was so intense he couldn’t choke down his sob fast enough. Azriel came up behind him, slowly and gently. “Please love, let me help you.” 

Letting out a shaking, teary breath Eris responded, “If I let you help, you’ll think I’m weak…they’ll all think I’m weak. I have to do this Azriel…” 

Azriel placed a hand around Eris’s still holding the rag, squeezing with tight reassurance. “But you are not alone, Eris, and you are not weak. Receiving help is not a weakness, it’s one of our greatest strengths. Please, let me take care of you. Let me in.” Taking several shaky breaths, Eris closed his eyes, leaning his head back to wrest on Azriel’s solid chest behind him. With each passing second, Azriel felt his mate relax into his arms, the adrenaline waning from his system as he finally started to allow himself to feel safe, to be cared for. 

Moments later, Eris removed his hand from Azriel’s, leaving the cloth behind. Turning his head into his mate’s leathers Eris nodded, a soft and tentative “okay,” slipping from his battered lips as he finally gave in and allowed someone to care for him. As he let that final protective wall drop between him and Azriel and gave this last piece of himself over. 

Azriel placed a soft kiss in Eris’s blood matted hair before he got to work, swiftly and surely cleaning the wounds. Eris barely made a sound, grunting softly at the particularly sensitive swipes of the cloth over his damaged body. But for the first time in all the years they’d been together, Eris allowed himself to give this last bit of him over to his mate. He let him help. 

Some time later, when the wounds were properly cleaned and Eris was finally beginning to heal, Azriel carried him to the washroom, gently placing him in the tub that was already full of hot, soapy water. Strand by strand, Azriel detangled and washed his mate's hair, brushing each long piece out and cleaning it to his mate’s satisfaction. Every time before this, Eris had allowed him to watch as he cleaned himself up after an evening with his father, and Azriel had paid special attention to how he washed his hair. 

This final part of his post-torture ritual seemed to be the final cleansing, a way to wash the sins of his father fully from his body before he allowed himself to sleep. Azriel had taken notes, praying to the Mother for the day that Eris would allow him to help. And now that that day had come, he was fully ready. His mate, breathing deeply in the tub, looked up at him as Azriel finished and placed the brush he’d been using on the edge of the tub. 

“You’ve been paying attention.” 

“It is my job, you know.” 

Eris winced slightly at that, and Azriel hastily added on.

“You are not a task Eris. Caring for you is not a burden. It’s a privilege. And I’m honored you let me close enough to let me help you.” He tacked on the finally aspect of that statement in his mind, but Eris heard it anyway. 

“Well, I’ll be checking your work Shadowsinger, but it seems as if you’ve done…adequately. For a first try that is.” 

Azriel’s heart swelled for in this banter, the love language that was uniquely their own, he heard the unsaid words. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for knowing. And thank you for helping. 

“As long as I get to keep trying,” Azriel said as he wrapped his mate in a towel, and helped him back to his bed where he’d rest while he recovered from the last of his wounds. But this time, he wouldn’t handle it alone. He’d rest safely held in his mate’s arms, cocooned within the fortress of his wings.

[born-to-riot]

Me: let’s finish the chapter today! You got 2,411 more words on top of the 7,198 so far in the chapter. Nothing can stop you now!

Also me: is up at 4:00am making detailed outfit inspiration posts to be posted along with the chapter WHEN I SHOULD BE EITHER SLEEPING OR FINISHJNHBTHE GODDAMN THING

I’d just like to thank everyone for their patience and do know I am working on the next chapter and I hope to get it up soon! Almost everything I wanted to happen has happened so we’re almost there. It seems like some of y’all are actually looking forward to it so I hope it lives up to your expectations hehehe

[graycious-tea]

House of Flame and Shadow? More like Azris confirmed to me

[thehighladywrites]

acotar men + twitter nsfw links.

“uh-huh, come play with my pussy!”

pairing: acotar men x f!reader

summary: visual links of how the acotar men fuck 😉

warnings: nsfw, porn links, squirting, handjobs, blowjobs, rough sex, teasing, spitting, slapping, public sex, messy makeout session

amara’s note: yum and if you can’t see the links, remove safe search on web reader then go back to twitter

azriel

when everyone’s out

spitting before eating you out

backshots pov

breeding aftermath

head game goes crazy!

put it in and let’s watch tv!

fingering turns you into a squirting mess

jerking off inside

hungry!

rhysand

can i suck your tits while you ride?

squirting all over his cock while he fucks you

rubbing your clit every morning

slow strokes hit so deep!

arching just the way he likes it

i’ll stroke you if you finger me, deal?

can’t keep my hands off your cock, sorry

take it off, i want it raw

cassian

i miss you, let’s facetime later

sloppy, sloppy makeout session

drooling for a taste

size difference? yes!

let’s make a movie but you gotta be quiet!

you said you were stressed? let me take care of you

creampie compilation

giddy up cowgirl!

throat grab

eris

gotta tease before entering

couch fun

be my personal fucktoy

think you can take it all?

post argument sex

i really, really wanna suck you off

69 double pleasure

deepthroat training

lucien

cumming on his cock

the size difference is crazy

he fucks roughly when he’s mad

no one loves titty fucking more than him

slow handjobs is the quickest way to get bent

lucien found your toy and uses it on you

facial

late night quickie

[chairofchaos]

When the Blood Burns

Burns (Part 2)

Blood (Part 1)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Over the last year and a half of The War, Eris and Azriel find themselves drawn into friendship, and eventually love. But will their love survive a war that so many could not? (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Major Character Death, sexual content, graphic violence, physical and emotional abuse (by Beron Vanserra), thoughts of self harm and suicide, graphic depictions of wounds from battle, canon divergent, and once again: unedited and no beta we die like men me once you all finish this fic.

A/N: I don’t really care what happened in canon right now so just roll with it, please. Including the fact that I had Summer join Hybern and Spring in the bad guy’s club. I couldn’t have ALL the other courts against them and didn’t care enough to do research. I picked randomly, I swear. Once again, I must offer thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the beautiful divider for this fic. It is so perfect. You have no idea how much I love it. @unanswered-stars You said whatever I want. Whatever. I. Want. (Remember that promise you made me.)

As luck would have it, Azriel had time that night. A battle was raging, but Night wasn’t a part of it, and he had been unceremoniously dismissed and told to come back two mornings from then. He assumed his High Lord would head to his family home, and if Rhys was there, maybe Azriel would hear something of his other brother when he got back to camp.

At this moment, Winter fought Summer along their border, humans likely fleeing into Autumn to escape the battle. But Azriel paid it no mind. He got time off so rarely. And this war held no end in sight.

It was only a matter of time before he would be summoned again. But there he was, the glade in the pine woods a sanctuary where he could wait.

Eris winnowed to the edge of the glen after just a few minutes. The fire roared to life at his arrival, and Azriel quickly turned to him.

“I do recall you saying ‘chances are slim’ this morning,” Eris teased. 

Azriel shrugged with a grin. “I got the night off.” His shadows rushed to examine the fire lord and coil about his ankles like excited puppies.

Eris shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. Though I like the more relaxed look.”

Azriel had ditched his leathers in favor of a long sleeve shirt rolled up to his forearms and a pair of casual slacks. Siphons still graced his hands, and his leathers were folded neatly at the top of his bedroll where a pillow would typically be, but they were at war. Weapons were never far away.

Eris unbuttoned his long tunic with practiced ease. Beneath it, he wore only a thin white shirt tucked into pants tailored as though they were a second skin. Azriel couldn’t help but drag his eyes from the male’s boots to the crown of his head and back down again. 

“I’d ask if you like what you see,” Eris drawled, waving his free hand at Azriel as he drew closer, “but I can see for myself that you do.”

Azriel grinned, crossing his arms. “Well, there’s a reason I picked these pants.”

Eris hummed in amusement, dropping the tunic at Azriel’s feet. “Well, there’s a reason I like them so much.” Before Azriel had the chance to react, Eris had pulled him in for a kiss. 

It was heat and light; desire and longing. Azriel groaned into Eris’ mouth. Eris just laughed in return, sliding a hand around the back of Azriel’s head to tug at the roots of his hair. 

“Eager,” Azriel hummed, gripping Eris’ waist to pull his hips against his body. Cauldron. He could feel Eris’ heartbeat in his chest. He may be polished and poised, but his heart was wild, beating with eager abandon. Azriel kissed him deeply, relishing in the increased speed of Eris’ heartbeat as he did so.

It was Eris’ turn to groan, but he also stepped back, pulling Azriel with him and winnowing them a few feet.

Azriel found himself being lowered onto the bedroll. Something shifted, then.

Eris was as passionate a lover as his powers would suggest. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or just the fact that ten feet away, a fire popped and crackled with every moan of Eris’ against his throat, but Azriel’s attention felt foggy. 

He was painfully hard. Azriel had had only one lover since the start of the war. That had been over as soon as it began, the male’s death on the battlefield bringing it to an untimely end. Other than that, there had been no one. It had been four years since anyone had touched him. Kissed him.

Tonight was different. Perhaps it was that it had been so long. Eris stripped him of his clothes with a tenderness, pressing kisses up the length of his body as each new strip of skin was revealed by the raising of Azriel’s shirt.

When Azriel reached to rid the male of his own shirt, Eris swatted his hands and tugged it quickly over his head, leaning down to give Azriel another kiss and grinding his hips against Azriel’s. The movement drew moans from both of them, and again, Eris laughed.

“What?” Azriel murmured, turning his head to press kisses against the pale jaw of the fire lord.

“I’ve thought about this, you, for years,” Eris admitted quietly. Still his voice rang with joy, and Azriel’s heart jumped at the kernel of truth. Eris tossed his head back, looking up at the stars ringed with the leaves from the forest around them. 

“Years?”

Eris nodded, still gazing upwards. Azriel reached up to drag fingers against his cheek and draw his attention back to where Azriel lay beneath him, wings pinned against the bedrolls. Azriel intentionally avoided any thoughts about what his lack of panic at that fact could possibly indicate. 

“Why do you stare at the stars?”

Eris’ eyes glowed in the firelight when he looked at Azriel. “They’re glimmers of hope in the midst of the darkest night.”

Clearly done with conversation, Eris stood, shed his boots, his pants, and his underwear while Azriel, still sitting, quickly did the same for himself.

Azriel was quicker. He rose to his knees, reaching to grasp the backs of Eris’ thighs and pull him close. Eris groaned at the contact of Azriel’s lips against his hip, his stomach, his upper thighs. Azriel kissed along the scar he had helped tend to, still red and raised. “Does it ever hurt?”

“No,” Eris smiled. “Not when you’re kissing it.” Azriel smiled in return and pressed soft kisses all along the length of the scar, just because he could.

Tonight, Eris loved him. Truly. Thoroughly. Azriel couldn’t call it anything else. Didn’t want to, as the male touched him with such tenderness and affection, cradling Azriel’s head in his hands as he thrust into him slowly and gently.

There was only so much Azriel could chalk up to desire. The raw thrusts as they sank further into their need. The moans of pleasure at another’s hands wrapped around him. The heady scents of arousal mingling with the pine of the trees. 

Everything else couldn’t be purely lust. Warmth and the deepest pleasure Azriel had ever felt growing in his chest. The things he whispered into Eris’ skin, the begging, pleading for ‘more, more, please’ and even Eris’ own name, whined against Eris’ throat. Eris’ intuitive knowledge of the places Azriel needed him most– kisses to his wrists before Eris pinned them above his head, the scrape of teeth along the skin of his collarbone, the stinging bite of a light smack against Az’s ass when he didn’t respond to a question of consent. And then there was the fact that the need didn’t go away.

Once, twice, even four times weren’t enough. They couldn’t stop touching each other. Didn’t stop, except to drink a little water when they were both spent and to kiss once, twice, before their hands were tangled in each others’ hair again. And that last time, when Eris reached up past where Azriel thrust into him, to his shoulder then over it to stroke at the wing which extended fully in complete vulnerability… 

Azriel’s hips stuttered, something between a long shout and a moan fading into a hiss rising from him before he collapsed onto Eris’ chest, wings draped alongside them like a blanket while he panted, completely spent.

Eris dragged his hands up Azriel’s sides and murmured sweetly into Azriel’s hair. Azriel couldn’t comprehend what the words were, just that they were there, drifting over him like leaves falling from a tree on an autumn day. He drifted, too, into a comfortable sleep, his face buried in the crook of Eris’ neck, and knew in his soul that the probability he loved Eris was no longer just a chance. It wasn’t a probability at all. It was a certainty.

They passed the day together, Eris informing Azriel that while his brother was alive, no one really cared where Eris was.

So they slept. They shared stories from the months between their meetings. They compared scars. 

They ate while Azriel told Eris about the Blood Rite, how he and his brothers had crossed the face of a mountain to be together, killing anyone who stepped in their path. Eris told Azriel what it was like to be the second son to a High Lord who hated everyone, most of all his own wife and children. 

They tumbled back into the bedrolls, laughter ringing between them. Azriel had hardly felt this light in his entire life. Their lovemaking was urgent and entirely unhurried; as needed as air and as casual as walking. They were joy incarnate. Eris drew moans from Azriel loud enough he almost feared they would be heard. Azriel returned the favor, his mouth wet and loud around Eris while the male shuddered beneath him with his pale hands buried in Azriel’s dark curls.

Then, they compared scars again, Eris telling Azriel about the crack of the flaming whip which Beron insisted his brothers raise against him upon being caught with a male lover. Azriel told Eris about the burns on his hands, how little he could truly feel because of them, and how much he relied on his shadows to communicate things to him on missions when he couldn’t make out more than general shapes of things under his fingers in the darkness.

They passed the second night in much the same way. When they lay panting, Eris would stare at the stars. Azriel would stare at Eris. When their gazes came together again, so would they, until the light of dawn broke once again, and the spell which held them in the perfect sanctuary of the glade broke at last.

A battle had waged on the Autumn Court’s border with Spring. Eris stood pale behind his father as the news settled over the room. His older brother was dead. Eris was heir.

Azriel couldn’t watch. Couldn’t see the solemn look on Eris’ face for more than the second that it took to pretend to size him up, to examine him for weaknesses and sneer, the masks they had assured each other they would wear in front of their Lords.

Beron waxed about how weak his son had been, and how appropriate it was that he had died. Eris said nothing.

He looked like shit. Azriel promised Eris in his head that he would make it up to him, every minute of every day that they got to spend together. They would not be this forever. 

Eris would be watched now. The chances they would be able to steal away to the glade were slim. Azriel thanked the stars that they had had those two days. It wasn’t enough. But it was something. When this war was over, they had the rest of their lives.

Cassian’s bellow barely reached Azriel’s ears as he watched his brother get stabbed. The soldier had lay on the ground. Whether the soldier was injured, lying, or dying, Azriel didn’t know, but he had taken a moment’s strength to stab up into the sliver of space at the waist of Cassian’s leathers. 

Azriel was too far from him, ordered to the sidelines in case an urgent dispatch needed to be made between the humans or the High Lords of Winter, Autumn, Night, Dawn, and Day. Cassian dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach with shaky hands as blood gushed from him. They were so close to the end. This battle seemed so final, so hopeful, even in the midst of the terror and panic earlier in the day. 

Seven years. It had been seven years since the beginning of this war just last week. His brother could not die, not this close to the end.

So Azriel disobeyed the order his High Lord had given him. He summoned his best blades from his shadows and leapt into the thick of battle. He had killed his way to his brothers before. He would kill his way to Cassian again.

The terrible calm of battle sank into his bones. He hardly saw their faces in the fading light of dusk as he spun, wings flapping rapidly to raise him over a small group of soldiers without raising high enough to engage in aerial battle. There wasn’t enough time for that. Cassian had struggled to his feet again, engaged in a sword battle with a soldier from Spring who seemed determined to kill anyone in his path. Cassian was the better swordsman. Still, he struggled to defeat his attacker, stumbling back with an arm pressed against his stomach.

Azriel swung his blades faster, stabbing, swiping across necks. It wasn’t enough. Cassian would fall. With Rhys injured, only Azriel was left to save their friend who had saved him, early in life and many times since. 

A blade was knocked from his hand by a broadsword. He couldn’t let it delay him. It was out of his reach, so Truth Teller slipped into his hand with ease as he plunged his remaining Illyrian blade into the throat of the Hybern soldier who had tried to kill him.

Slice. Thrust. Blood. Sweat. Every step was labor. Every moment passed quicker than the last. He felt as if he would never get to Cassian’s side. All around him, the battle slowly died, and he saw nothing, felt nothing but determination to do what felt impossible.

In time, he reached his brother. Cassian looked at him in surprise, eyes glazed from pain. “Az,” he choked. Blood dribbled from his lips. 

“Don’t speak,” Azriel snapped. 

Cassian looked at him, eyes darting around. “Rhys,” Cassian tried to speak again, and Azriel snarled at him. “Rhys is going to be fine. Shut up.”

“Tell him–” Azriel cut Cassian off. 

“Tell him yourself when this fucking war is over.”

Cassian choked a half laugh, half sob, eyes closing for a second at the pain of the movement in his gut. “Fine.”

Azriel swung Cassian’s arm over his shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. They both groaned, but Azriel insisted they start moving immediately. Luckily, the thick of the battle had shifted away from them to where Peregryn, Seraphim, and Illyrians descended in undulating waves to attack the heads of the last advancing regiments of Hybern, Spring, and Summer soldiers. 

They made it three hundred meters before Cassian doubled over coughing, blood spraying across the bodies at their feet. They would have made it farther, but each step toward the edge of the battlefield required careful placement of feet not to step on the bodies of the dead or dying in case they shifted. Azriel’s shadows couldn’t even clear the way, spread so thin monitoring every aspect of the battle they could that they were too occupied to return intelligence that would serve him any use.

They had passed another hundred meters. Roughly three hundred were left to traverse. Azriel saw his discarded Illyrian blade, his custom leather-wrapped handle the only giveaway it was his. Someone must have picked it up to use it for it to have ended up here. He could buy another one when this was over. He left it behind, Truth Teller still clutched in the bloodied palm of his hand. He wouldn’t be able to wield the Illyrian blade and had strapped it against his back. Its handle bumped against Cassian’s arm as they walked, but he doubted his brother could even feel it.

If they made it to the edge of the battlefield, his brother would survive. Madja, the healer who had nursed him back to health on multiple occasions, would help patch up his brother. Rhys paid her handsomely to be there when they needed her. She was to be trusted, Rhys insisted, and the only one to touch them if they could at all help it. 

In the last six months, Rhys had grown suspicious, too suspicious for his own good. He thought people would use his brothers and friends against him if given the chance. Azriel and Cassian indulged him, though they teased him anyway, any chance they got.

Cassian nearly fell away from Azriel as he began coughing again, his wings shaking with the force of it. The battle was shifting again, headed their way. They had no time. None.

“Can you walk?” Azriel asked Cassian roughly. When he didn’t respond, Azriel slapped his cheek. Cassian seemed to jolt to attention, gazing at Azriel with wide eyes. “Hey! Can you walk?”

Cassian nodded slowly with a grimace. “Give me a blade.”

Azriel slipped a dagger from his belt, passing it quickly to Cassian. “That way,” he pointed, ducking under Cassian’s arm to let him go. “I’ll guard your back. Hurry.”

Cassian began to stumble toward the edge of the field, tripping once or twice as Azriel stood his guard. He would hold the line like Enalius. He would protect his brother, his friend.

The first soldiers began to reach him, and Azriel picked up a discarded Seraphim sword to wield. They began to fall around him, and he continued his bloodletting. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty. They would die, one after the other. A slight pause, and he took the chance to glance back at Cassian. He was making progress. Maybe a hundred meters more and he could be safe enough for Azriel to fly to him and get him the rest of the way.

Azriel turned back to swing his blade up and block the downswing of another sword, spinning to swing his dagger into the unguarded underarm of the soldier who had raised his sword high to bring down on Azriel’s head. He died quickly. Too quickly, and not quickly enough. Azriel yanked the blade from him, barely noting the spurt of blood which hit his face.

The soldiers kept coming, one after the other. A legion of Autumn court soldiers approached from the direction Azriel had come from with Cassian. Another legion of Darkbringers approached the force’s back. Most of the remaining Hybern soldiers were already turned to engage with them, and the few that stayed to fight Azriel died one after the other. He scanned for any would-be opponents, but finding no one looking at him, he turned his attention back to Cassian.

But as he did so, a figure appeared at the edge of the forest, running towards Cassian, staying in the shadows of the trees. They were moving fast, wearing a cloak of dark fabric Azriel didn’t recognize. They were similarly cloaked in shadows and darkness of the falling night. They clutched a weapon, the blade glinting in their hand as their arms pumped at their sides. 

Azriel saw what would happen. He saw Cassian with that slim blade in his throat, the Lord of Bloodshed downed so close to safety, so close to getting out of this war that had already taken so much from all of them. Azriel sprinted, not for Cassian, who hadn’t seemed to notice the approaching soldier, but for that soldier who stalked his brother.

Blood and sweat mingled, dripping from his hair into his eyes. He pumped his wings, moving faster and faster to get there, to intercept him before Cassian could be killed. The stranger winnowed, a little bit at a time as if their magic was spent, then resumed running, this time darting in and out of the trees. They were getting close. But so was Azriel.

Azriel had too few shadows to shadow walk. If the soldier winnowed again, he may not make it. His wings could not falter. His feet could not stumble. He poured everything he had into speed and steadiness, approaching that soldier as fast as he could.

They didn’t hear him coming. He made sure of it. Had cloaked his sound with the few shadows he did have. So they did not falter until Truth Teller in his hand pierced upward through the ribcage of the soldier, their own body weight and momentum driving Truth Teller’s blade deeper than Azriel could even have hoped for a male who had tried to kill his brother. Blood spurted over his hand as they toppled to the ground. 

Azriel felt the wound in his own chest. Felt his dagger pierce his very heart as the soldier’s face spun towards him, red hair falling about a pale face frozen in shock.

Eris.

A golden thread coated in reddest blood snapped between two pierced hearts.

Eris slumped backward, coughed once. Cassian’s coughs had been forceful. Eris’ cough was weak. He gasped for breath, and Azriel began to tremble, yanking his body from where he lay atop his lover the way they had in the glade.

“No,” he whispered, kneeling beside his body much the same as the first time he had tended Eris' wounds. “No, no. Eris.”

“Help,” Eris whispered as Azriel lowered him to the ground. If he kept the blade in place, if he could get Madja here to save him, to save his mate–

"I'll help, just give me a minute, Eris, I'll help."

“No," Eris coughed. Blood bubbled up, and Eris coughed it out. "I wanted… to help.” Eris gasped, blood bubbling from his throat. 

“Cassian!” Azriel screamed for his brother, who was already stumbling towards them, a mere silhouette as the sun set entirely.

Eris coughed again, weaker still.

“Eris, no,” Azriel hissed at him. His mate. His love. No. This couldn’t be his fate, his cauldron-ordained mate’s life taken by Azriel’s own hand.

“Az…” Eris coughed too much, and not enough, his hands grasping at Azriel’s face, his hands, anything he could reach. Panic was filling his eyes. “Hurts.”

“I know,” Azriel began to sob. “I know, just hold on, please, please.”

He didn’t know who he was begging. Night had truly fallen. The stars? The cauldron? The mother herself?

“Please!” Azriel screamed. A horn blew, and others joined in chorus. The battle was over, the war done. They had been so close.

“Az…” Eris wheezed. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Azriel sobbed, pressing his hands against the blood seeping from the wound. It forced its way through his fingers, pooling in the divots of his scars and rushing in a warm cascade to the ground. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

Cassian reached them. “Az?”

Azriel bowed his head to listen to Eris’ heartbeat. It was slow. Far too slow.

“Get Madja. Cassian, please, get Madja,” he sobbed. He knew Cassian moved away only from the uneven, uncharacteristically heavy thud of his footsteps. He would get Madja. Eris would be alright.

“Eris, just wait a minute. She’ll be here,” he sobbed. So much blood. “She’ll save you, she saved Cassian, she can save you, just hold on.”

“The stars,” Eris whispered. “The stars remind me of you.”

“No, no, no,” Azriel shouted at him. He could hardly see Eris’ face, could hardly see his mate’s own tears trickling from his perfect, dimming eyes. He needed to see him. His heartbeat stuttered beneath Azriel’s hands.

Eris’ hands found purchase against Azriel’s cheek, his neck. They were warm. So warm. Hot.

Burning. The last flames of an Autumn prince, unintentionally burning into the skin of the one they loved.

“You were my stars,” Eris whispered. His hands flared with a burst of flame, then dropped to his sides.

Azriel screamed.

It was a scream of pain. His burning flesh didn’t even register. His heart, its core ripped out by the shredding of a golden thread that had snapped all too late, was the only pain he knew.

“Azriel!” A female’s voice, carried to him on the evening’s cool breeze.

“Here!” he screamed. “Madja, we're here!”

She ran. He heard her run, his shadows rushing between her and where he knelt beside Eris, as he begged the Mother to give him one more minute, one more second to save Eris, to save the male who had tried to help his brother and was now seriously injured. Madja could save him.

She didn’t spare him a glance as she dropped to her knees beside Eris’ body, one hand slipping to his wrist and the other to his neck. She was here. She could save him.

She stilled.

“Madja, do something!” Azriel begged, the force of his hoarse scream sending a spray of spit into her face. She didn’t move. Her eyes flicked up to Azriel’s face, then to Eris’. She tilted her head and bit her lip, pressing harder against Eris’ neck, her fingers sinking into the pale flesh the way Azriel’s fingers had once in their sanctuary, a glade in a forest where they were happy.

“Azriel,” Madja whispered, pulling her hands away and placing them atop Azriel’s, still pressing into the wound with Truth Teller between them.

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “No, do something. Madja, you have to save him! Please!”

“Azriel!” Cassian’s voice reached him, yelling.

Madja sighed, looking over her shoulder. “I told you to stay!” she yelled.

“Azriel!” Cassian yelled again. 

“Madja,” Azriel begged. “I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything, please–”

“Azriel,” she said firmly, reaching to grip his chin. “Azriel, Eris is dead.”

He stared at her defiantly. She reached down to pry his hands away from Eris’ chest. “He’s dead, Azriel.”

No. No. His mate. His mate, dead at his own hands.

No.

Eris.

No.

Truth Teller.

No.

No.

No.

“Get him off of him,” a voice said. 

He was hauled backwards, screaming. 

“Mother have mercy,” a whisper from the person who held him, who kept him from Eris, from his mate.

“Eris!” he screamed. “Eris!”

A vial was forced to his lips. Liquid tipped down his throat, choking him. Azriel coughed. Eris was coughing. Eris. Eris.

Dead.

Azriel’s senses were dull. The soft fabric of a blanket against his arm. The dull light hitting his face from a window. A slender hand, holding his. Eris?

He opened his eyes. His bedroom at the cabin. Gauzy day curtains pulled over the window to soften the light. Mor.

“Azriel,” she whispered, tears lining her eyes. She gripped his hand between hers tightly. “Az, what happened?”

What happened? Who happened.

Eris.

His heart plummeted to the depths of The Mountain as if the Mother herself had tossed it from the stars.

The stars. You were my stars.

He said nothing.

“Azriel,” Mor tried again. He ripped his hand from hers, rolled to his side and covered himself with his wing.

Eris had stroked that wing.

He wanted to cut it off.

Footsteps sounded at the door. He screwed his eyes shut, if only to keep the building tears from falling.

“Az?” Cassian. 

“Azriel.” Rhys.

He waited, hoping against all hope to hear one voice, a golden, spiced-honey voice which would tease him until laughter was unavoidable.

“Azriel,” Cassian tried again. “Come on.”

“Leave,” he ground out.

“Absolutely not,” Rhys responded.

“Get out.”

“We aren’t leaving you,” Mor said gently. 

Gentle. Who deserved gentleness?

Not a male who killed his mate with his own two hands.

Glimmers of hope in the midst of darkest night. Azriel wished it were night, wished he could fly into the wilderness and never return, starve to death under a starry sky.

“Azriel. Get up,” Rhys ordered. His voice was full of command, command that it hadn’t held before the war.

Azriel begrudgingly shifted his wing and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, and turned toward where Rhys stood.

A wide rectangular mirror covered a good portion of the wall above the dresser. As he turned to face his family, Azriel caught his reflection and froze.

Handprints.

His face, his neck. Burns.

Eris’ handprints.

Azriel raised his hands to trace the outline of the fingers burned into his cheek. The thumbprint which nearly brushed the corner of his lips. The palm burned into the front of his neck from the hand which had held his throat gently, so gently, even as Eris died from the wound that Azriel had given him.

“I tried to heal them.”

Azriel’s head spun to the door so fast it made him dizzy for a minute, his vision flashing with enough spots that he couldn’t see the female who had spoken the words softly.

Madja. Her eyes were sorrowful as she gazed at him, her hands wringing in front of her. “I tried, Azriel. I’m sorry.”

Rhys looked at Azriel with a hard gaze, ignoring the healer who stood beside him. “What happened? Cassian and Madja have refused to tell me anything. What did you have to do with–”

“High Lord,” Madja cut in.

“High Lord?” Azriel’s gaze hardened as he turned to his friend, his brother… his High Lord?

Madja was spared Rhys’ ire only by Azriel’s questioning. Instead, Rhys sighed. “Father died in the battle. It was sudden. An Autumn Court legion wasn’t where it was supposed to be.”

The commanding voice. An Autumn Court legion. Eris.

Azriel’s gaze cut to Cassian, who subtly shook his head. Rhys didn’t know Eris had commanded that legion. 

Madja, whose eyes filled with tears she was trying to keep from falling, shook her head as well. She hadn’t told them what she had guessed.

“Az?” Mor said. His gaze cut to her. She reached to the bedside table and opened the drawer. “Rhys thought you might want this back. Cassian found it in the forest.”

Blood bubbling through his hands, the blade of Truth Teller between them.

Truth Teller, which now rested in Mor’s hands.

The dagger which he had stabbed into his mate’s heart.

The dagger which told him the truth of his mate at long last.

Azriel dropped to his knees. His wings drooped behind him. “Leave.”

“What the fuck happened on that battlefield?” Rhys’ voice was the last to reach Azriel before their chatter and shouts faded to muffled sounds. His shadows whipped around him, their wordless fury and pain unleashed at last, their number multiplying by the minute.

Eris had saved his brother. Eris had doomed Rhys’ father. Eris’ last flash of magic had etched his hands permanently into Azriel’s skin, two more massive scars which he would never be rid of. A gaping hole in his chest which would never depart. 

He could never tell them the truth. Would protect his mate’s choice to save his brother, even as he had unknowingly doomed the life of their other brother’s father and Azriel’s High Lord. He could never tell them about his mate. His glorious, kind, funny mate. His mate who saw hope in the stars. Who saw hope in Azriel himself. The love of his life.

Azriel placed his palms flat on the ground in front of him and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in, then out. The shadows settled around him on the floor, shrouding everything in darkness. He knew his friends, his family, watched in silent horror as he emerged from their growing darkness. He breathed in again. Everything went still.

And he screamed.

A/N: Yelling is fine, just don’t kill me please. I choose life. Also, does it help to know you voted for the nicer of the two possible endings?

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STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND LOOK AT ERIS VANSERRA.

[the-darkestminds]

Autumn's Shadow: Chapter 11

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

Summary: A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

a/n: Thank you to everyone is still here. It means so much to me 🥹

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Read on AO3!

Full Chapter List

Chapter 11:

Azriel dropped into a chair across from Elain at the large oak dining table, empty aside from the two of them. A muffin he didn’t want appeared on the plate before him, along with a helping of fruit and a steaming cup of tea. He arched a dark brow and frowned. The wraiths must be working in the kitchen. 

Normally, he chose not to join his family for breakfast at the river manor, as they tended to eat hours after he woke up. He preferred to make breakfast a quick affair, typically shoveling whatever simple fare he could find into his mouth before flying off to attend to his spymaster duties before the sun had risen. He was only here now because Rhys had asked him to come.

Azriel glanced over at Elain, who was bent over a large notebook strewn with small sketches of flowers and other plants, along with descriptions and what appeared to be care instructions. She looked up only briefly to give him a polite smile before dipping her head once more. The food on her plate sat untouched while she worked. 

Though he knew it was unfair, he couldn’t help the tiny bubble of resentment that twisted in his stomach as he watched her. How could she think of flowers and gardens while their world seemingly stood on the cusp of disaster? When his own felt like it was on the verge of crumbling down around him? He realized he was glaring at the top of her head and averted his eyes, wondering when he’d become such a moody asshole.

Azriel looked down at the overly large muffin on his plate, feeling miserable, and now guilty as well. It was really his own inaction that was eating at him, not Elain’s. But Rhys had summoned him here for a reason—perhaps he’d learned something useful, or had come up with a plan to stop Koschei.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Feyre and Rhys breezed in, both dressed in Night Court black, surprisingly formal for the hour and occasion. 

Azriel smiled at Nyx, who was laughing and waving his arms with excitment as Feyre passed him off to Elain. Elain beamed at her nephew as she sat him on her lap, cooing as she squished their cheeks together.

“I’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes,” Feyre announced, and then she disappeared into the corridor that led to the kitchen. Azriel raised his brows and looked at Rhys.

“A word?” His brother angled his head towards the hall.

“We’re going to Day. To speak to Helion. I need you to come with us and be our eyes and ears,” Rhys said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants. “As a precaution.”

“Why are you going to Day?”

“We are going to Day to see if there is anything Helion can do about this bargain between Feyre and I,” he said. The words were clipped and tendrils of night leaked from Rhysand and surrounded their ankles like dark, cool mist. Azriel tried to stifle his disappointment that this summons had nothing to do with Koschei or Beron. He couldn’t help but think it was a waste of their time—there was no way out of a magical bargain beyond its fulfillment. He said as much aloud and Rhys bared his teeth, eyes flashing. 

“You will accompany us to Day because this is what Feyre needs,” he hissed. “So lose the attitude and get your shit together. We’re leaving in 3 minutes.” 

Azriel started at the fury in his brother’s voice—that he’d so easily let his temper slip. Rhys seemed to realize it as well and took a step back. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed roughly and dragged his trembling hands through his black hair, mussing it from its perfectly styled waves. He glanced over his shoulder towards the dining room before continuing in a quieter voice. “You’re right. There is likely nothing Helion can do for us, but Feyre still has hope, and I refuse to take that away from her on top of everything else,” he said, voice strained. Azriel didn’t ask what he meant by everything else.

“It’s fine, Rhys. I get it.” Azriel took in the wild, panicked look on his brother’s face and pulled him into a hug. Rhys sagged against him, his tension easing slightly in Azriel’s embrace.

“I can’t stop picturing it,” he whispered. “Nyx, left all alone, Feyre and I, dead—'' he choked on the words and pressed his forehead against Azriel’s shoulder, releasing a shuddering breath. It terrified Azriel more than he cared to admit that his brother appeared to be preparing for the absolute worst—as if he didn’t expect to survive Koschei.

To Azriel, Rhys had always seemed larger than life. He was the one person who would never falter, the one who would always be there to take care of things when everything went to shit. When Cassian and Azriel had returned from the lake, Rhys had remained collected, taking control like he always did. Azriel hadn’t realized how much he’d relied on his brother’s unwavering calm. Seeing him like this…Azriel gripped him tightly, tried to channel some of that strength himself. He pulled back to look into Rhysand’s violet eyes, now clouded with fear and pain.

“That isn’t going to happen, Rhys. We won’t let it happen,” he promised forcefully. He’d come so close to losing his brother only months ago. He refused to go through it again. Rhys nodded and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the fear was gone, a pleasant smile plastered on his handsome face. Another mask, for Feyre’s sake. 

Azriel refrained from voicing his thoughts—that Feyre would likely want to shoulder some of his burden. But that was Rhys—always taking the brunt of the pain so the rest of them didn't have to. Azriel doubted Rhys even realized he was doing it; it was ingrained in his very bones, this relentless need to give and give until he had nothing left. 

Azriel���s heart felt heavy as he watched Rhys make his way back into the dining room. He took a moment to steel himself and then followed, already dreading the visit to the Day Court. 

He wasn’t in the mood to endure Helion’s inappropriate come-ons, but for Rhys and Feyre, for Nyx, he’d do just about anything.

***

Azriel winnowed himself to the Day Court ahead of Rhys and Feyre to make sure nothing sinister awaited them, but all he found was extremely bright sunlight and a hot breeze that made him feel like he was standing inside a furnace. Azriel squinted against the light, his shadows tucking themselves tightly under his wings, and took in the dazzling sandswept palace sprawled out before him.

Helion’s residence rose majestically from the sands, its golden domes gleaming in the late morning sunshine. Arid desert stretched endlessly off into the distance, its dunes rippling like waves frozen in time. Tall, swaying date palms lined the wide stone pathway leading up to the palace, offering a pop of green amidst the neutral shades of tan mixed with gold and white. The scent of desert blooms and rich spices drifted toward him on a steady wind, whispering through the thick fronds above. Splashing fountains with towering bronze statues of former High Lords lined the walkway, the blue water inviting in the building heat of the day.

Azriel grimaced as he took it all in. It had been a century since he’d stepped foot in this Court, but it was as extravagant as he remembered. Everything was so bright—too bright. And hot. Winter had not yet passed. Why was it so hot? He was already sweating in his leathers and decided immediately that he had no desire to step foot in this Court ever again.

Azriel sighed and turned to greet the female attendant. She was draped in white cloth that wrapped around her lithe body in panels, flattering her dark, smooth skin. Her uptilted brown eyes were keen as she welcomed him to Day. Azriel sent a thought to Rhys, giving him the all clear, and a second later he and Feyre arrived beside him and both squinted up at the palace.

“It’s so…bright?” Feyre offered with a wide smile. It sounded more like a question than a compliment to Azriel and he stifled his snort. She and Rhys, both draped in glimmering black, looked extremely out of place. Azriel was certain he did as well—though his shadows had all but disappeared, hiding from the sun.

The attendant only laughed warmly and led them towards the stairs that would take them up to see the High Lord of Day. 

***

The attendant, whose name they learned was Aya, guided them through the luminous palace on quiet, sandal-clad feet. The interior was just as elegant as the exterior. Intricate mosaics adorned the high walls, each tile bursting with vibrant color, seemingly narrating the history of Day. Archways of white marble stretched up towards the azure sky, visible through windows high above that let in shimmering shafts of sunlight. Bordering the stone pathways were narrow jewel-lined rivers of crystal-clear water that whispered softly beside them as they strolled deeper into the opulence of Helion’s home.

For its size, Azriel noted it was surprisingly empty—the atmosphere was hushed and serene, yet cold despite the heat. Impersonal.

Aya slowed as they approached the golden double-wide doors of Helion’s private councilroom. When she pushed open the doors, all four of them drew up short.

“—then make her,” a male voice growled with considerable venom. 

Azriel blinked as he made sense of what he was seeing.

Helion stood nose to nose with Eris, both wearing murderous expressions on their faces and seemingly in the middle of a heated argument. Eris was hissing at him viciously but snapped his mouth shut and turned when the door banged loudly against the wall.

“My Lord, I apologize—I thought you were alone—there was nothing else on the schedule,” Aya stammered, a slight pink tinge to her cheeks.

“Aya my dear, do not apologize, the fault is mine.” Helion’s loud voice was as warm as the sands surrounding his palace. It chilled when he jerked his chin to Eris. “Eris,” he said, his voice now like ice, “was just on his way out.” Helion turned and smiled widely at Rhys and Feyre but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Eris schooled his face into a mask of cool indifference as he strode past Helion. He paused briefly as he approached them, smirking. 

“Feyre, Rhysand. Lovely to see you, as always.” His amber eyes brightened as they slid to Azriel and he felt something warm in his chest. “Shadowsinger,” he said with an incline of his head. He followed Aya out into the hall without another word.

“Rhys, my friend, it’s been too long,” Helion boomed. Azriel didn’t hear the rest of the exchange. His head was turned over his shoulder as he watched Eris round the corner and disappear from sight. 

It was like a compulsion—this undeniable need to seek him out whenever he was near. Azriel didn’t try to fight it when his shadows pulled him down the hall after Eris. Surely Rhys and Feyre could hold their own without him for a few minutes.

He appeared in front of Eris just as he reached the bottom of the stone steps. His shadows felt sluggish under the blaring sun and they returned to their hiding spot beneath his wings.

“What are you doing here?” he said in a low voice as he gripped the forest green fabric of Eris's jacket. How Eris managed to remain cool and unruffled in the scorching heat was beyond him. Not a single hair was out of place despite the steady breeze. Eris' eyes darted towards Aya and she bowed her head in farewell before re-entering the palace and closing the doors behind her. Two armored guards stood on either side of the doors, each armed with sharp, gleaming spears. Though they appeared uninterested, Azriel knew they were listening intently—and would report any unsavory business to their High Lord immediately. 

“Not here. Later,” Eris insisted.

“Eris—”

“Later, Az. I promise.” He brushed his fingers against Azriel’s and with a gust of chilled Autumn wind, he was gone.

***

Azriel quickly sorted through all he knew about the High Lord of Day as he sat at the end of the long, golden table. So much gold. Too much, in his opinion.

Helion had ascended to power following the execution of his predecessor, carried out by Amarantha as punishment for his involvement in the burgeoning rebellion against her.

He claimed no children and had no official consort, though Azriel knew Helion had no shortage of lovers, both male and female, often at the same time. Azriel had been on the receiving end of Helion’s propositions more times than he could count, along with Cassian and Mor. Mor had taken him up on the offer during the war, and at the time, Azriel had been deeply hurt by it.

Azriel nearly laughed aloud when he remembered it had been his outburst at the High Lords’ meeting that had sent Mor running into Helion’s bed. He had tackled Eris into the floor—had tried to choke him to death, until Feyre had stopped him. Gods. He’d wanted to kill Eris in that moment. But now…now, he wanted to wrap his hands around Eris’s long neck for an entirely different reason. Azriel bit back a smirk and chastised himself for letting his thoughts wander, praying no one could detect the change in his scent. 

Azriel studied Helion as he talked animatedly with Feyre, all smiles and loud laughter. He wondered if it was all a façade to mask his loneliness—the humor, the steady stream of lovers, the unfaltering charm. To rule an entire court alone for so many years without a steady partner at one’s side sounded miserable. If the male had someone close to him, he certainly hid it well.

What was his connection to Eris? Azriel hadn’t known the two of them were well acquainted enough to even find themselves in the same room alone together. But there was no denying the ferocity he’d seen on both of their faces. As spymaster, he should be aware of such things. It irked him that it had escaped his notice.

 Azriel shifted in the chair he sat in at the end of the table, the back too high to comfortably accommodate his wings, and forced his attention back on the conversation.

Rhys was explaining to Helion the nature and terms of his bargain with Feyre. Helion’s face was solemn as he listened, and when Rhys was finished speaking, he asked them why they believed themselves to be in such danger so as to need the bargain severed.

And then Rhys and Feyre both, with Azriel chiming in occasionally when warranted, explained all they had learned these past few months. They told him of Briallyn, of Beron’s alliance with Koschei—they shared nearly everything, including Elain’s mysterious vision. 

Azriel had shifted uncomfortably when Rhys had recited the words, thinking it too personal to be shared with the High Lord. Though Rhys framed his relationship with Eris as an alliance and nothing more, Azriel still felt the weight of his assessing gaze as Helion listened intently. Ally or no, he’d kill the golden High Lord if he so much as thought about exposing Eris’s betrayal to anyone who might pass the information on to Beron. He let Helion see the threat in his eyes.

“We don’t know if he truly intends to declare war. For now, he’s backed off of Spring. But should he rally his armies…” Rhys let the thought trail off and Helion picked it up.

“You can count on my forces to join you if Beron does indeed think to make himself High King of Prythian,” Helion promised.

“We’ll keep you informed, should anything change,” Rhys said as he and Feyre stood. Helion mirrored them, and then he looked at Feyre, an earnest expression on his face.

“I will do everything I can to find a solution to this bargain of yours,” Helion promised. “Though I feel I must remind you, the price of severing such a bargain might be one you are unwilling to pay, and once severed, there is no turning back.” Feyre nodded somberly and thanked him, and Helion kissed her cheek. Rhys grasped his hand in farewell. 

Azriel glanced away when he saw the look of anguish that passed between Rhys and Feyre while they had one of their silent conversations. Clearly, it was not the answer they had been hoping for, though likely the one Rhys had expected. Azriel’s stomach sank. He hated seeing them in pain. 

The three of them were quiet as Aya led them back through the estate so they could winnow home. The silence was heavy—sad. Rhys wrapped an arm around Feyre’s shoulders and kissed her temple. She leaned into his side and tucked her head against his chest. A second later, they vanished.

Azriel didn’t spare the gleaming palace another glance as his shadows eagerly carried him home to Velaris.

***

“Is she okay?” Azriel asked Rhys.

Upon returning home, Feyre had stepped out of Rhysand’s arms and had left them standing alone in the foyer. Her shoulders had sagged slightly, and Azriel could nearly taste her defeat as it sat heavy in the midmorning air.

“As okay as can be expected,” Rhys said in a low voice, and Azriel didn’t miss the guilt that flashed across his face. “She’s afraid. We both are.”

Azriel nodded and his shadows swarmed him protectively. He’d lived in a near constant state of fear these past few weeks—and knew it would likely persist until Beron was dead. Az gripped Rhys’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before turning to leave.

“Azriel, one more thing before you go,” Rhys said tiredly, and Azriel paused. “I need you to help Cassian with the Illyrian forces.” Azriel recoiled, his very skin crawling at the idea of spending more time in Illyria than he absolutely needed to.

“Why? Cassian has things handled just fine,” Azriel insisted. Rhysand’s face hardened.

“If whatever Beron has planned is allowed to unfold, we will need them in fighting shape and ready to fly at a moment’s notice. I’m not asking you to train them, or to interact beyond the camp lords. I just need you to check in with some of the northernmost villages and see what their numbers look like, which units are the weakest, which lords might give us trouble. Take a week.” 

“But—”

“Azriel, please.” The exhaustion and desperation in his voice had Azriel relenting.

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll go tomorrow.”

They parted ways, and Azriel's mood soured further. Visiting the Illyrian villages was the last thing he wanted to do; he had more pressing concerns on his mind. 

As he walked down the hall, his thoughts drifted back to Eris and Helion. "Later," Eris had said. Azriel hoped later meant tonight, though nightfall was still hours away. Azriel launched himself into the brightening sky. 

He flew for a while, allowing the flowing currents to settle his mind, and then set off in the direction of the House of Wind in search of Cassian.

***

Azriel’s breath heaved out of him as he swung his fists at the cushioned slab of wood, each strike brutal and precise. Sweat dripped down his brow and his muscles strained with every punch, but the physical exertion did little to quell the storm raging inside of him. Shadows skittered erratically around him, whispering their ominous warnings in his ears at all hours of the day—a reminder of his own failings.

He couldn't protect Eris from Beron, couldn't find a way to stop Koschei, couldn’t piece together the meaning of Elain’s vision—his irritation burned hotter with every swing. He was pathetic. And utterly useless to Eris. 

His fist shot out again, his siphons glinting in the low light of the moon as he tried to lose himself in the movements. But the unease continued to gnaw at him. What was the point of all this power if he couldn’t use it to protect the people he loved? Azriel growled and hit the wood so hard it splintered and cracked beneath his bruised knuckles. 

And now he was being asked to waste more time overseeing the Illyrians. Azriel ground his teeth in frustration at the thought. They should be doing something to stop Koschei—though he had little idea as to what they could do. He punched the wood again and it groaned.

Azriel had found his way up to the training ring after many hours spent with Cassian going over the general’s extensive knowledge of each Illyrian village: the camp lords in charge, the number of units, which were strongest and which needed work, as well as the warriors living in each settlement. Cassian knew nearly all of it by heart, which made Azriel wonder, again, why Rhys insisted he needed help. He seemed to be handling things just fine on his own.

Cassian had always possessed more patience with the Illyrians than Azriel could ever muster. For whatever reason, his brother loved their people. How he was able to look past the brutality they’d inflicted upon his mother, the way they treated him like trash—all of it made Azriel want to return the violence tenfold. But it was as Rhys said, they needed the warriors.

As Azriel’s temper rose, his shadows whispered to him of movement within the House, and a few minutes later Nesta stepped into the room and leaned against the stone archway. She rested a rectangular package against her hip as she watched him move.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked with a raised brow. Azriel merely grunted, and moved through several more offensive maneuvers without speaking, silently hoping she’d sense his irritation and leave. But when he finally stopped and turned she was still there, watching him. 

Azriel wiped the sweat from his brow and strolled to the water station, pouring himself a cup. Nesta’s shrewd gaze felt like a brand and he finally arched his own brow at her in return. 

“Did you need something?” he asked coolly. He didn’t feel like talking. 

Nesta ignored his cold tone and walked across the ring to stand beside him. He bristled as she studied him. Nesta saw too much, and it often left him feeling vulnerable—exposed. Az knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was in a foul mood.

“How have you been holding up?” Nesta asked, her voice mingling with the howling wind.

Azriel schooled his face into his usual icy mask to hide his tumultuous thoughts. Truthfully, he was coming apart at the seams. He was utterly useless, and pathetic, and going out of his mind at their general lack of action. His shadows wouldn’t cease their hissing as they begged him to look, to pay attention. It was beginning to drive him mad. But Azriel said none of that.

“Fine,” he bit out. Nesta just looked at him in that piercing way of hers until he finally relented with a soft snarl. “I hate not knowing what any of it means. We’re all just sitting around on our asses, waiting for Beron and Koschei to strike, and Rhys has me dealing with the fucking Illyrians, as if we don’t have more important things to worry about. Eris could be killed at any moment—” Azriel clenched his jaw, pissed at himself for letting his temper slip. He blew out a slow breath. “I don’t know what to do—about any of it.” He dragged a scarred hand through his sweaty hair and voiced what was really eating at him. “I’m scared for him,” he admitted bleakly. Azriel looked away as he said it. It still felt strange to speak of Eris so openly. Nesta drummed her fingers on the package in her hand.

“Eris is cunning. He’s been dealing with Beron for centuries. He knows how to play the game, as he likes to say,” she said. Her voice left no room for debate and he supposed she was right, to a certain degree. Eris did know how to handle Beron—but things had changed. He wasn’t dealing with Beron’s typical brand of cruelty anymore. The paranoia, his alliance with Koschei…he was unpredictable, and it terrified Azriel. 

“And we’re not doing nothing,” Nesta went on. “You have your spies monitoring the lake.” Azriel arched a brow that she even knew that to begin with. “Helion is now aware of Koschei, and pledged his forces should Beron do something stupid. There’s only so much you can do.” He willed himself to believe her. “Eris has to be the one to decide how and when to kill Beron. So let him. Surely he’ll tell you if there’s something you can do to help,” she said.

Azriel wasn’t convinced. He didn’t think Eris would ever willingly let Azriel shoulder any of his burden when it came to Beron. He was so used to carrying it on his own—he’d been doing it his entire life. Azriel nodded, not wanting to share the private thought with Nesta.

“Thanks,” he said. “For listening.” Nesta offered him a small smile. Azriel’s eyes fell to the box in her hand. 

“Can you bring this to Emerie when you go to Windhaven tomorrow?” Nesta held it out and Azriel accepted it. He let his shadows tuck it away for safekeeping, but didn’t ask her what it was. 

As Nesta bid him goodnight and disappeared into the dark of the House, Azriel realized his chest felt lighter than it had mere minutes ago. Few people could draw Azriel out of his head once he’d decided to brood, and he marveled that Nesta had been able to do it so effortlessly.

***

Exhaustion finally sent Azriel from the House back to his apartment. He was wary, and desperately needed to bathe, but as soon as he stepped through the door a whiff of Eris’s scent had him following his shadows up to the roof. 

He found Eris leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed against his chest, eyes fixed on the twinkling night sky above. 

Azriel took a moment to admire the male. Even here, alone with the stars, he looked magnificent—like a true prince. All that was missing was a crown. 

The moonlight shimmered off his red hair, worn loose around his shoulders with several of the silky strands tucked behind a pointed ear. Azriel noticed the small cuff on the smooth edge and found himself wanting to drag his teeth along it. The golden necklaces around his neck matched the rings adorning his long, elegant fingers. 

Azriel let his eyes roam over the well-tailored cobalt jacket and the sleek pants that hugged his muscular thighs. He looked stunning in blue—it matched Azriel’s siphons, and the realization gave him a smug sense of satisfaction. Gods, he was beautiful. Heat stirred in Azriel’s blood as he approached.

He slid up to Eris and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him against his chest so he could breathe in more of his intoxicating scent.

“Mother above, Azriel, you reek,” Eris sniffed. “Couldn’t spare a few minutes for a bath?” he asked with an arched brow. His eyes glinted with amusement and he failed to hide his smirk.

“You like it,” Azriel snickered and pulled him in for a kiss. Eris grumbled but returned it enthusiastically, confirming Azriel’s suspicions. 

When they pulled apart, Azriel scanned his face, searching for any trace of pain or fear in his amber eyes, but all he found was reflected starlight. Azriel nearly shuddered with relief. Today must have been a better day, then, all things considered. 

“I missed you,” Azriel said. Eris’s face softened with a genuine smile, even as he rolled his eyes.

“I missed you too, bat.” 

Azriel stretched his wings and laughed at the nickname, delighted at the snark in his voice. Lately, there had been so much darkness weighing on him, but tonight he seemed relaxed. Playful, even. 

Azriel wanted to stretch these stolen minutes under the night sky as long as he could, but he knew Eris could never stay for long. He didn’t want to put him at risk, despite how much he craved more time together. It was never enough. 

“Why were you in Day?” Azriel asked as he leaned against the wall beside him. Eris frowned, his eyes straying back to the winking stars above.

“I was there to call in a favor from Helion,” he said in a stilted voice. “He certainly owes me one.” At Azriel’s confused silence, Eris turned his face so their eyes met. “Helion is my mother’s mate.” Azriel’s brows shot up his forehead in surprise. “And Lucien…is their son.” 

Azriel blinked. Lucien…not Beron’s son? His mind reeled. Surely he would’ve heard whisperings…his shadows should’ve picked up on it. He’d never—

Azriel realized there had been talk of Helion's past with the Lady of Autumn. During the war. At the time, Azriel had been so distracted by his unrequited feelings for Mor that he’d dismissed the conversation entirely, uninterested in anything but his own misery. Azriel realized he was gaping and snapped his mouth shut. 

“How long have you known? Does Lucien know?”

“I’ve known since Lucien was born. I was present for the birth, and I was there when she had his powers temporarily bound. Only her nursemaids and I were entrusted with the secret.” Eris sighed. Another burden on his shoulders, all these years. “Beron suspects, but he’s never openly accused her. To admit the truth, that she’d had an affair, would be an embarrassment to him. It would shame him.” The words were hard and Azriel placed a hand on his arm. 

Azriel couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. “I don’t think Lucien has any idea,” Eris added, sounding regretful. “Though it’s difficult to be sure where he’s concerned. He was always so adept at keeping secrets, even as a child.” A faint smile bloomed on his lips.

“What powers beyond fire does he possess?” Azriel wondered. He hadn’t spent much time with Lucien. There had been that brief encounter before the war, when he’d brought him to Velaris and they’d discussed his Autumn Court intel. And there was the short conversation they’d had regarding Eris the other day…but mostly Azriel had kept his distance—he’d had no reason, or any desire, to speak to him.

“Powers similar to Helion’s, I imagine. Spell-cleaving, that bothersome white light, whatever else Day presides over.” Eris waved a hand aimlessly and shrugged. “He entered the world glowing, and I knew in that moment that Beron would kill him if he ever saw him use such power. So my mother did what she could to protect him, and made me swear to look after him.” Eris dragged a hand through his hair and then leaned his head back against the wall.

That explained the faint glow Azriel had noticed when Elain had smiled at the male. He’d thought he’d imagined it, but no…it was his true father’s power, shining through his skin. And Eris’s mother…

“Why does she remain with Beron?” Azriel asked, though he was fairly certain he knew the answer already.

“For me and my brothers,” was all Eris said. Azriel leaned against the wall beside him and followed Eris’s gaze up to the dark sky, sprinkled with twinkling stars. They were quiet for a while.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew Helion beyond formalities,” Azriel admitted into the silence with a wince. Eris laughed, low and smooth like velvet, and the sound danced over Azriel’s skin.

“Remind me again what Rhysand is paying you for?” Eris drawled. Azriel huffed a laugh and flicked Eris’s long nose.

“Don’t be a brat. Helion has only been High Lord for fifty years, and in that time he’s established himself as an ally to the Night Court. And he’s friends with Rhys.” Azriel shrugged. Helion had spent nearly all of his reign as High Lord under the mountain with Amarantha. 

Azriel thought of Lucien, tried to recall any resemblance between father and son, but his mind drew up short. 

“He certainly doesn’t behave like a mated male, what with all the times he’s invited me, Cassian and Mor to his bed.” Eris whipped his head to Azriel.

“Excuse me?” Azriel chuckled at the horrified expression on his face and the soft snarl that slipped through his lips. “Helion is a pain in my ass,” Eris bit out. Azriel’s amusement faded as Eris went on. “Autumn is no longer safe for my mother. Beron’s alliance with Koschei, the violent outbursts…I fear what might happen to her the next time he’s in a rage.” Eris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and Azriel studied his pale face, now etched with fear. “I was in Day to beg Helion to give her sanctuary, but he refused. Said he couldn’t force her to leave her home if it wasn’t what she wished.” The words were bitter with resentment.

Eris closed his eyes and took a deep breath before they found Azriel’s again. “I’m afraid for her,” he whispered. 

Azriel reached out and folded Eris into his arms, held him tightly as he sagged against him. Another problem Azriel couldn’t fix, another burden on Eris’s shoulders. He didn’t know how the male managed it, but he was in awe of him every day.

“What’s your mother’s name?” Azriel realized he’d never heard it.

“Aurelia.” Eris smiled. 

Azriel listened as Eris spoke of his childhood—of the good memories with his mother. She sounded like a gentle female, and he was grateful Eris had known kindness, despite growing up with Beron as a father. Eris asked him about the rest of his visit to Day and Azriel shared the brief details. They chatted about other, lighter things, for a while, and eventually they fell quiet, content to be together in silence.

It wasn’t long before Eris had to depart, so Azriel let him feel how desperate he was for him as he gripped his neck and crashed their lips together. He kissed him deeply, tongues twining together, and Eris moaned and pulled him closer. 

Only when Eris was hard and panting for him did Azriel finally relent and pull back. Eris bit his bottom lip, and then licked away the hurt.

“How cruel of you to tease me so, knowing I can’t stay,” Eris said against his mouth, his voice a low, sensual caress that sent heat directly to Azriel’s groin.

Eris reached down and palmed Azriel through the fabric of his pants, squeezed him hard, and Azriel groaned into his lips. Eris drove his tongue into his mouth again and dragged his hand up his length, pressed the heel of his hand over the head of his cock. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Maybe they did have time—

Eris vanished, leaving Azriel painfully hard and alone on the roof. Azriel cursed as he adjusted himself in his pants. 

He swore he could hear Eris’s wicked laughter on the wind as it brushed over his feverish skin. Wicked male. Those hands. 

Azriel smiled and laughed, despite himself. 

Tease, indeed.

***

The second Azriel arrived in Windhaven the following morning he wanted to leave. He hated this place. The winters were long and bitter, the wind always frigid. It battered his wings and sent chills skating along his spine. The people were just as cold as the weather. 

He kept his distance from the camp lords and the warriors in the training rings as he inspected their progress, though it didn’t stop them from throwing loathing looks his way. He glared back at them. Cassian had always been better at dealing with the Illyrians, though even he had never managed to gain their respect, despite centuries of trying to work with them. Azriel had never wanted it.

He spent an hour observing, making note of which units were lacking in skill, and those that could use their ranks replenished. He noted which lords took the training seriously, as well as the ones who couldn’t help but sneer at him every time he walked past. Two years ago there had been whispers of rebellion, but the subsequent Blood Rite had wiped most of it out. He didn’t hear anything of that nature today, though he doubted they’d let slip any true discontent while he and his shadows were within earshot. 

Before he headed to the next Illyrian village, he stopped by Emerie’s shop to deliver the package Nesta had given him. The store was clean and well taken care of, and it was clear she took a lot of pride in her work. He knew she faced pushback for owning it as a female, but it hadn’t seemed to dampen her determination. He approached the counter where she stood and placed the wrapped box on the smooth wooden surface.

“From Nesta,” he said. He watched her eyes light up when she beheld what was inside—the next chapter of Gwyn’s Valkyrie manuscript, from what he could tell. Azriel knew the Valkyries were still training frequently, but due to the recent events with Koschei several of their sessions had been canceled. 

“Thank you.” 

Azriel nodded. He looked around the store, empty save for the two of them. The shelves were neatly stocked and free of dust. It was warm and inviting. He wondered if she got many customers.

“How have things been around here since the Blood Rite?”

Emerie eyed him skeptically. “Fine. Since when do you care about Illyria? I thought you’d washed your hands of it.” Azriel was startled by the cold edge to her voice. The accusation in it.

“I was asking about you,” he said carefully. “Have you been given any trouble by the camp lords?” 

“There’s always trouble to be found. I can handle myself.” The words were clipped. Azriel couldn’t read her—didn’t know her well enough to determine if this was her usual demeanor or if he’d done something to offend her. 

She was a proud female, and dearly loved by Nesta and Gwyn—and Cassian. She’d laughed and smiled freely during the few times he’d been present for their training. Perhaps being here made her more tense. More guarded. Or maybe she just didn’t like him. He didn’t know why it bothered him. Azriel tried another angle.

“You know you could always move to Velaris. We could have you out of here by the end of the week, if you want.” Emerie arched a dark brow at his offer, a slight frown on her face.

“I belong in Illyria. This is my home,” was all she said.

Azriel shifted his wings in discomfort. Emerie had been polite to him the few times they’d spoken, though they had barely exchanged more than a few words in passing. But the edge of resentment in her voice couldn’t be denied. “Tell Nesta thank you.” She turned around and flipped open the manuscript. A clear dismissal. 

Azriel left her shop without saying anything else. He felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach, but he couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly, he was feeling guilty for. He racked his brain of all the conversations he’d ever had with Emerie, but nothing notable stood out. They hadn’t spoken enough to develop any sort of friendship.

He wondered at it—the fierce defense Emerie offered of Illyria, despite all it had done to her. The clipped wings, the abuse, the Blood Rite. Yet she insisted it was her home, and clearly had no interest in abandoning it.

As each beat of his wings took him farther and farther from the cold village of Windhaven, Azriel tried and failed to ignore the kernel of anxiety that burned in his stomach. Later that day, after inspecting a handful of the villages on his lengthy list, his thoughts returned to their conversation. He tried to shake off the unease, the guilt. But for some reason it lingered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Full Chapter List

Tag List: @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @jules-writes-stories @christeareads

[amarillis39]

To Kill The Deathless

Prologue on AO3

He let his head roll back down as he stared again, through sticky strands of his red hair, into the darkness in the corner of his cell. And maybe he was really going mad. Maybe he was already insane.  But he could swear that the darkness blinked. 

[imxnotxhere]

Acotar Men Fic Recs

** Updated 03/07/2024 **

I already made a list for azriel which was actually meant as a list for all the characters I read for but I read a lot more of azriel fics because he's my baby and the list was getting too long. So here are the rest of the characters and I also added some more azzy drabbles sorry

Rhysand

@azsazz

dioxazine part 2 - fluff, smut, modern au, art school au

the lord's work - smut

if you should die before you wake - smut, rhys x cass x azriel x reader

just hold on - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

double duty - smut, rhys x reader x cass

what's mine - smut, rhys x eris x reader

lavender haze - fluff, suggestive

@tadpolesonalgae

mine - smut, check warnings!

knocked up - smut

vampire!rhysand drabble - smut

professor!rhys headcanons part 2 - smut

soothing - fluff, aftercare

@leafsandstarlight

easy like sunday morning - fluff, smut

@azrielbrainrot

my body keeps saying it's yours - smut

all over my skin - smut, rhys x reader x azriel

@writingsbychlo

home to us - fluff

rhys as a pleasure dom - smut - technically a drabble? blurb?

@azrielscrown

mirror mirror - smut

daylight - fluff

@acourtofwhatthefuck

shrinking violet - smut

@shadowdaddies

if i catch you i fuck you - smut

@fieldofdaisiies

rhysand... - drabble, smut

Cassian

@azsazz

mirror mirror - smut

take it - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

@tadpolesonalgae

on the strategy board - smut

pools of sunlight - fluff

@leafsandstarlight

halley's comet - angst, smut

@princess-tulip-writes

drabble - smut - az x cass x reader

@fieldofdaisiies

cassian... - drabble

@illyrianbitch

words of affirmation - fluff

Eris

@acourtofmenandthirst

runaway - angst, smut

fox hunting - smut

closed until further notice - fluff, smut, coffee shop au

smut blurb

smut blurb II

@leafsandstarlight

destiny's battleground - angst, smut

my lovely throne - smut

despite our differences - angst, smut, series

the prince of blood part 2 part 3 - vampire!eris

@tadpolesonalgae

servitude - smut

thumb prints - smut

@serpentandlily

sly fox, dumb bunny - series

@azsazz

the burning of the autumn leaves and the roaring of my yearning heart - angst, smut

soul on fire - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

@azrielbrainrot

fire on fire - angst?

mind over matter - angst?

@gothicbabydollz

riding eris' face - smut, drabble

riding eris' thigh - smut, drabble

@honeybeefae

cauldron fated - angst, smut

@princess-tulip-writes

making out with eris while giving him a handjob - smut, drabble

praise kink eris - smut, drabble

@fieldofdaisiies

eris' hands... - drabble

eris... - drabble

@theostrophywife

like you wanna be loved - fluff

Lucien

@tadpolesonalgae

solecist night - smut

@acourtofwhatthefuck

yell at me again - smut

personal problem - smut

the moon on a string - fluff

@princess-tulip-writes

drabble - smut

drabble - smut, az x lucien x reader (kind of)

@gothicbabydollz

dom lucien - smut, human!reader

@fieldofdaisiies

lucien... - smut

@ceoofyearning

say yes to heaven - fluff

Helion

@leafsandstarlight

a high lord's scholar - fluff

@tadpolesonalgae

new mechanisms - smut

sweet like peaches - smut

[thestarlightexpress]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

a/n: I am FINALLY ready to start writing again (thank you law school apps for getting me back in the habit), I am super pumped to finally participate in kinktober this year! I'm going to keep this masterlist updated throughout the month. lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist!

Day 1: Pussy Slapping - Rhys x Reader

Day 2: Somnophilia - Azriel x Reader

Day 3: Foursome - Bat Boys x Reader

Day 4: Hatefucking (feat. Bruises/Bites) - Eris x Reader

Day 5: Monsterfucking - Tarquin x Reader

Day 6: Pet Play - Nesta x Reader x Eris

Day 7: Squirting - Nesta x Reader x Cassian

Day 8: Handjob (feat. Titty Fucking) - Cassian x Reader

Day 9: Threesome - Elain x Reader x Lucien

Day 10: Impact Play - Azriel x Reader

Day 11: Hair Pulling (feat. Deepthroating) - Eris x Reader

Day 12: Thigh Riding - Tarquin x Reader

Day 13: Overstimulation (feat. Temp Play) - Lucien x Reader

Day 14: Rough Sex - Azriel x Reader

Day 15: Praise - Elain x Reader

Day 16: Exhibitionism - Helion x Reader

Day 17: Aftercare (feat. Wing Play) - Azriel x Reader x Eris

Day 18: Double Penetration - Azriel x Reader x Rhys

Day 19: Dacryphilia (feat. Bondage) - Dark!Azriel x Reader

Day 20: Public Sex - Rhys x Reader

Day 21: Omegaverse - Alpha!Cassian x Omega!Reader

Day 22: Dirty Talk: Lucien x Reader

Day 23: Masturbation - Helion x Reader

Day 24: Edgeplay - Rhys x Reader

Day 25: Breeding - Eris x Reader

Day 26: Breath Play - Azriel x Reader

Day 27: Wax Play - Lucien x Reader

Day 28: Mirror Sex (feat. Cockwarming) - Rhys x Reader x Feyre

Day 29: Bath Sex - Eris x Reader

Day 30: Massaging - Cassian x Reader

Day 31: Face Sitting - Nesta x Reader x Cassian