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moonlitstoriess · 1 month ago

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A Symphony of Silence- Cassian x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: Y/N, a mute musician cursed by a dark power, seeks refuge in Velaris, performing in silence at a local theater. Cassian is captivated by her haunting music, drawn to her mysterious presence. As their bond deepens, he becomes determined to help her, unaware of the full extent of her curse. As time runs out and her health worsens, Cassian must face a devastating truth that could shatter everything they’ve built.

Warnings: Not proofread, Fluff in the beginning, Trauma, (eventual angst, loss, and heartbreak)

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The city of Velaris hummed softly in the aftermath of war. It was the sound of a place still healing, the echoes of battle fading beneath the rhythm of life slowly returning to normal. Cassian walked along the cobblestone streets, his wings tucked tightly against his back, the cool night air brushing against his skin. His boots scuffed against the stone, the sound swallowed by the laughter spilling from nearby taverns and the soft music drifting from street performers who had reclaimed their corners.

It was peaceful, or so it should have been. But peace was a concept that sat uneasily on Cassian’s shoulders.

He’d only just returned from a mission Rhysand had sent him on—a straightforward task of dealing with some squabbling Illyrian clans. Nothing dramatic, nothing particularly dangerous. But the routine of it had left him restless. He’d fought wars that had burned across continents, seen blood and fire in ways that couldn’t be forgotten. And now, with nothing left to fight for, nothing but rebuilding, Cassian felt…adrift.

He couldn’t exactly say this to Rhys or Azriel. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how to explain it to himself. So, he’d thrown himself into work—training recruits, patrolling the city, whatever kept his hands and mind busy. Tonight, though, there was nothing left to do. The streets were quiet, the stars glittered like shards of broken glass in the sky, and Cassian was left alone with his thoughts.

He hated it.

Turning a corner, he found himself walking along the Sidra. The water glistened in the moonlight, the gentle waves lapping against the banks. Ahead, the laughter of a group of friends faded as they disappeared into a nearby pub. Cassian debated following them—distracting himself with drink and noise—but something pulled his gaze to the left.

The theater.

It wasn’t a place he often visited. The world of art and performance felt foreign to him, something softer and quieter than the sharp edges he’d known all his life. He’d been there a few times with Feyre and Rhys, watching as Feyre’s eyes lit up with wonder. He’d appreciated the beauty of it, sure, but it wasn’t his world. Yet tonight, the faint glow of the building, the murmured excitement of the people filing in, called to him.

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was desperation for distraction. Whatever it was, Cassian found himself following the trickle of people into the theater, his wings brushing the doorframe as he entered.

The scent of polished wood and aged paper greeted him, mingled with the faint floral perfume of the patrons. Cassian lingered near the back, his broad form earning a few curious glances. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against a pillar as the crowd settled into their seats.

The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the room, and then she appeared.

Cassian straightened.

The female who stepped onto the stage was unlike anyone he’d ever seen. Dressed in a simple gown that shimmered like liquid starlight, she moved with a grace that seemed almost ethereal. Her face was partially obscured by the shadows of the stage, but her presence was undeniable.

She came over to the large piano royale in the center of the stage, delicate and gleaming, and when she sat and began to play, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The music was haunting. It started softly, like a whisper, then grew into something vast and consuming. It wasn’t just sound; it was emotion, raw and unfiltered. Cassian felt it like a blade to the chest—pain, longing, hope, despair.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the song ended, the final note lingering in the air before fading into silence. The audience erupted into applause, but Cassian barely heard it. His eyes remained fixed on her as she stood, offered a faint bow, and disappeared behind the curtain.

Something about her music, about her, had struck a chord deep within him. It wasn’t just her beauty, though he couldn’t deny that she was stunning. It was the weight of the emotion she carried, the way it bled into her music, speaking volumes without a single word.

Cassian didn’t know her name. All he knew was that, for the first time in a long while, the restless ache in his chest had quieted.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

Cassian found himself returning to the theater the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that.

Each time, he told himself it was just coincidence—that he had no other plans, that the theater was simply a good place to unwind. But deep down, he knew better. He came to watch her.

He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself. There was something about her, something that pulled at him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. She was like a beacon of quiet strength, her music carrying a weight that seemed to echo his own unspoken thoughts.

Cassian sat in the same seat every evening, his wings tucked close to his back, his gaze fixed on her as she took the stage. Her presence was magnetic, her beauty undeniable, but it was the way she played—fingers gliding effortlessly across the tiles of her piano—that captivated him. It was as if every note held a story.

Yet, for all her grace and poise, there was a shadow that clung to her, a weight he couldn’t quite place. It made him want to know her, to understand what had shaped the woman who could command such emotion through her music.

By the fifth night, his frequent visits hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Azriel remarked one evening as they sat in the River House, the shadowsinger's tone laced with curiosity.

Cassian shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. “Just keeping busy.”

Azriel gave him a long, assessing look. “Busy watching performances in a certain theater every night?”

Cassian stilled, his glass hovering halfway to his lips. “How do you—”

"You aren't the only one lurking in the dark corners” Azriel interrupted, a rare smirk tugging at his mouth as he pointed to his dark shadows. “You’ve got a pattern, brother. And if I noticed, so will Rhys.”

Cassian groaned, running a hand down his face. “I don’t even know why I keep going. I just…” He trailed off, unsure how to put his feelings into words.

Azriel leaned back, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “You’re drawn to her,” he said simply.

Cassian didn’t respond, but the answer was clear in the way his wings shifted restlessly.

“You know,” Azriel continued, his voice taking on a teasing edge, “you could always stop lurking in the shadows like a lovesick Illyrian and actually talk to her.”

Cassian shot him a glare. “I’m not lurking.”

Azriel raised a brow, unbothered. “Whatever you want to call it, you’re not going to get anywhere just watching her from the crowd. Talk to her.”

“And say what?” Cassian asked, his tone half-exasperated, half-uncertain. “Hey, I’ve been obsessively watching you play for a week like some kind of a maniac now, and I think you’re amazing—mind if we chat?”

Azriel chuckled. “It’s better than doing nothing.”

Cassian huffed, leaning back in his chair. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” Azriel replied, his smirk returning. “For most fae, at least. But you—you like to overthink things.”

Cassian glared at him again, but the corner of his mouth twitched in reluctant amusement.

By the end of the conversation, Cassian still wasn’t sure if he’d actually go through with it. But as he left the River House that night, Azriel’s words lingered in his mind.

So, when the next evening came and he found himself once again seated in the theater, watching her with that same quiet awe, he made a decision.

This time, he wouldn’t just admire her from afar. When the performance ended, he would wait. And he would find the courage to speak to her.

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the keys of the piano royale, her reflection barely visible on its polished surface. The heavy crimson curtain behind her marked the boundary between two worlds—the quiet solitude of preparation and the vibrant energy of performance. She exhaled slowly, willing her nerves to settle.

It wasn’t stage fright. That had disappeared long ago, beaten out of her by years of necessity and survival. No, this was something different—a flicker of anticipation, a spark that refused to extinguish no matter how she tried to ignore it.

Because she knew he would be there again.

The first time she’d seen him, she’d nearly faltered. Her gaze had landed on him like a moth drawn to a flame, his presence filling the room like he belonged in the center of every stage, every battlefield, every story. The most handsome male she’d ever seen—his dark hair, those powerful wings draped like shadows behind him, and the quiet intensity in his hazel eyes.

And then he kept coming back.

Night after night, he sat in the same spot, his massive frame a stark contrast to the delicate chairs of the theater. Always watching, always listening. She wasn’t sure if it unnerved her or thrilled her. Perhaps both.

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists on her lap. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. She had come to Velaris seeking refuge, not entanglements. This city had given her safety when she had none, a home when she had only ruins to her name. She would not risk that—not for him, not for anyone.

But still…

Her fingers itched to play. The piano was her solace, her voice, her lifeline. It was the one thing no curse could take from her. She had lost so much—her voice stolen by a cruel twist of fate and power, her past ripped away by a tyrant who took pleasure in others' suffering.

Amarantha.

Even now, years after the cruel queen had been defeated, the scars of her cruelty lingered. Y/N had refused to kneel, refused to serve, and she had paid the price. Her voice had been silenced, not with magic alone but with pain so visceral it echoed in every note she played.

But in Velaris, she was free. Here, she could perform without fear. And if that Illyrian warrior wanted to sit in the audience and watch her every night, well… She let herself have this small indulgence.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. One of the stagehands peeked in, giving her a quick nod. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

She returned the gesture with a small smile, though it felt hollow. Her mask of serenity slipped easily into place as she rose and walked to the stage, the weight of her curse settling on her shoulders like an old companion.

The crowd’s applause was thunderous as she began to play, her fingers dancing across the keys with practiced precision. Each note echoed through the grand hall, filling the space with a melody that was both haunting and beautiful.

She didn’t look at him—not right away. She couldn’t risk it. Instead, she let herself get lost in the music, her emotions bleeding into every chord, every crescendo.

But then her gaze flickered upward, as if drawn by an invisible thread, and there he was.

His eyes were locked on her, his expression a mixture of wonder and something deeper she couldn’t quite place. Her heart stuttered in her chest, but her hands never faltered, the music carrying her forward even as she felt the weight of his gaze.

She hated how much she noticed him—how his presence pulled at her, made her want to imagine things she had no right to dream of.

When the final note faded into silence, the applause swelled again, but Y/N barely heard it. She stood, bowing gracefully before slipping backstage, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with performance jitters.

Back in her room, she leaned against the closed door, her hands trembling slightly. She hated how vulnerable she felt, how the sight of him had made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t expected.

A soft knock startled her. She froze, her pulse leaping as she considered the possibilities. Stagehands didn’t usually bother her after a performance.

When she opened the door, she wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not to see him standing there.

His broad shoulders filled the doorway, his wings tucked neatly behind him. He looked almost nervous, his hazel eyes scanning her face before he offered a lopsided smile. “Hi.”

Her breath caught. She nodded, stepping aside to let him in, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through the room as he looked around. “I just—I’ve been coming to your shows all week, and I thought it was time I introduced myself.”

She gestured for him to sit, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the notepad and pen she kept nearby.

You’re not intruding. She wrote the words quickly before holding them up for him to see.

His brow furrowed slightly as he read them, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before understanding dawned. “You can’t…” He trailed off, his eyes searching hers.

She shook her head, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t broken, that she didn’t need pity, but she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and she hated how sincere he sounded.

She waved it off, quickly scribbling another message. I’m used to it.

But she wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. Not when she was sitting here, staring at the most handsome male she’d ever seen, knowing she would never be able to truly let him in.

Cassian settled into the chair across from Y/N, his massive frame making the small dressing room feel even smaller. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his hazel eyes warm and curious as they met hers.

“So,” he began, his voice as smooth as the first note of a symphony. “Do I get to know the name of the talented pianist who’s been stealing everyone’s attention in Velaris?”

She couldn’t help but smile, picking up her notepad again. Y/N.

Cassian read the name and repeated it softly, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. “Y/N.” He smiled then, a grin so disarming it made her chest ache. “It suits you.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she quickly looked down, busying herself with the pen. And you are?

“Cassian,” he said, leaning back slightly. His wings shifted, brushing against the edges of the chair. “General of the Night Court, Illyrian warrior, and occasional patron of the arts.” He smirked, the teasing glint in his eyes making her heart skip a beat.

She raised a brow, writing swiftly. Occasional? You’ve been here every night this week.

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Caught me.” His grin softened, and his gaze turned thoughtful. “It’s hard to stay away when someone’s as talented as you. The way you play... it’s like you pour your soul into every note.”

Her hand froze midair. No one had ever said that to her before, not with such sincerity. She ducked her head, biting her lip as she wrote. Music has always been my refuge. My escape.

He nodded as if he understood, his expression growing more serious. “I get that. We all need something to keep us grounded.”

She hesitated before writing again. And what grounds you, Cassian?

His grin returned, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. “Family, mostly. Friends. And… helping others. Making sure the people I care about are safe and happy.”

The weight of his words settled between them, and for a moment, she wondered how much he carried on those broad shoulders.

She tapped her pen against the notepad, debating her next question before finally scribbling. Do you know sign language?

The moment the words registered, Cassian’s smile faltered. He sat up straighter, his wings shifting restlessly. “I... no. I don’t. I’m sorry.”

His voice was tinged with regret, and the disappointment etched on his face made her chest tighten. She shook her head quickly, holding up her hands as if to say, It’s okay.

Then she wrote, her strokes swift and firm. You don’t need to apologize. Most people don’t. I’ve learned to adapt.

He didn’t look convinced. “Still. I should have thought to learn. I mean…” He gestured vaguely at her, his frustration evident. “It’s the least I could do to make this easier for you.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile, and she placed a hand over his for a brief moment before pulling it back. You’re here. That’s enough.

Cassian stared at her, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes—something tender, something raw.

“So,” he said after a pause, his voice lighter now. “Have you always loved music?”

She nodded, her pen moving fluidly across the page. Ever since I was little. My mother used to play, and I’d sit beside her, watching her hands on the keys. When I was old enough, she taught me.

His expression softened further. “She must be proud of you.”

The words hit harder than she expected. She hesitated before writing again, her movements slower now. She passed away a long time ago.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine sympathy.

She waved it off, forcing a small smile as she wrote. It’s okay. Playing helps me remember her.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the theater bustling outside fading into the background.

Eventually, she gestured toward him with her pen, her brow arched in curiosity. What about you? Do you play any instruments?

Cassian laughed, the sound warm and self-deprecating. “Absolutely not. Trust me, no one wants to hear me attempt music. Azriel says I have the rhythm of a drunk goat.”

She giggled silently, her shoulders shaking as she scribbled. I’d pay to see that.

He grinned. “I’ll consider it. But only if you promise not to laugh too hard.”

Her smile lingered even as she tapped the pen against the notepad, debating whether to ask the question gnawing at the back of her mind. Finally, she wrote, Why do you come to my shows?

Cassian blinked, caught off guard. He ran a hand through his hair, his wings shifting again. “Honestly?”

She nodded, her heart pounding as she waited for his answer.

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a soft rumble. “Because when you play, it’s like the whole world fades away. It’s just you and the music, and it’s... captivating.”

Her breath hitched, and she quickly ducked her head, hoping he didn’t notice the blush creeping up her neck.

Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. A stagehand’s voice called out, “Y/N, we need to start cleaning up.”

Cassian stood, his towering frame suddenly making the room feel even smaller. “I should go,” he said, though he looked reluctant.

She scribbled quickly, holding up the notepad. Thank you for coming.

He smiled, his eyes lingering on hers. “Thank you for playing. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her heart racing and her thoughts spinning.

She knew she couldn’t let this go any further—knew she couldn’t risk him finding out the truth. But as she touched the keys of the piano royale one last time that night, she couldn’t stop herself from hoping.

Cassian leaned back against the slanted tiles of the rooftop, the morning sun casting a golden hue over Velaris. The city below was waking, its streets buzzing with life, and the gentle breeze ruffled his hair. He glanced at Azriel, who sat cross-legged a few feet away, methodically cleaning one of his daggers.

“So?” Azriel’s voice was calm, but there was an edge of curiosity to it. “How’d it go with your mysterious pianist last night?”

Cassian let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “She’s…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Incredible. Quiet, but not in a shy way. More like she’s got this... stillness about her, like nothing can shake her. And her music—Az, it’s like the world stands still when she plays.”

Azriel smirked faintly but didn’t look up from his blade. “Sounds like someone’s smitten.”

Cassian threw a pebble at him, which Azriel easily dodged. “It’s not like that,” he grumbled, though the warmth creeping up his neck betrayed him. “She’s just... different.”

“Different how?” Azriel asked, finally glancing at him.

“She’s mute,” Cassian said softly. “She communicates through writing, and—damn it—I didn’t even think to learn sign language.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She didn’t make me feel bad about it, but I could see it in her eyes. Like she’s used to people not understanding her.”

Azriel’s brows lifted slightly, his interest piqued. “And yet you’re determined to understand her.”

Cassian shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She’s worth it. I just... I don’t know, Az. There’s something about her.”

Azriel hummed in thought, his shadows curling around him like curious tendrils. “So, what’s your plan?”

Cassian grinned, his confidence returning. “I’ll figure it out. I mean, how hard can it be to win over a female who barely knows me?”

Azriel snorted. “I’m sure your charm will work wonders.”

Cassian sat up, stretching his wings. “Speaking of charm, let’s take a flight. I need to clear my head.”

Azriel sheathed his dagger and stood. “Lead the way, oh charming one.”

They launched into the sky, the wind rushing past them as they soared over Velaris. The city’s beauty stretched out below—cobbled streets, colorful markets, and the sparkling Sidra winding its way through the heart of it all.

It was during one of these wide sweeps that Cassian caught it—a faint but tantalizing scent carried on the breeze. It was soft and sweet, like fresh jasmine mixed with a hint of something warm and spicy. His head whipped toward the source, his eyes narrowing.

He spotted her immediately. Y/N was walking out of a shop, her arms laden with bags, her face partially hidden beneath a soft scarf.

“There,” he said, angling his wings and diving.

“Cassian, what—” Azriel’s voice was lost to the wind as he followed.

Cassian landed with a thud right in front of her, his sudden appearance startling her so much that she dropped one of the bags. Her wide eyes met his, and for a second, she looked like she might bolt.

“Sorry!” he blurted, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Azriel landed gracefully beside him, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Cassian’s flustered energy.

Y/N tilted her head, her expression softening when she recognized him. She crouched to retrieve the fallen bag, but Cassian was quicker, snatching it up and offering it back with a sheepish grin.

“Hi,” he said, his voice a little too loud in his nervousness. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Azriel cleared his throat, clearly trying not to laugh. “Y/N, this is Azriel,” Cassian said, gesturing to his brother. “Azriel, this is Y/N. She’s... well, she’s amazing.”

Y/N smiled politely, nodding in greeting, but her eyes flicked back to Cassian with an amused sparkle.

“I told him you were amazing,” Cassian added quickly, then winced. “Not like, in a weird way. I mean, I did—” He groaned, rubbing his face. “I’m just going to stop talking now.”

Azriel chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re doing great, Cass.”

Y/N covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Cassian groaned again. “I swear I’m not always like this.”

“Debatable,” Azriel muttered.

Cassian shot him a glare before noticing the multiple bags in Y/N’s hands. “Do you need help with those?”

She hesitated but nodded, clearly a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of them.

“Great,” Cassian said, taking all the bags in one swoop and ignoring Azriel’s raised brow. “I’ll carry these for you. Where to?”

Azriel gave Cassian a knowing look and spread his wings. “I’ll leave you to it.” With that, he took off, his shadows swirling behind him.

Cassian grinned triumphantly as he fell into step beside Y/N. “See? Problem solved. Now, lead the way.”

As they walked, he found himself talking—about Velaris, about the beauty of the city at night, about how he and Azriel used to get into trouble as kids. Y/N listened intently, her expressions shifting between amusement and curiosity.

When they finally reached her door, Cassian set the bags down gently. “Here we are,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you... need help bringing these in?”

She shook her head, scribbling quickly. Thank you, Cassian.

He smiled, the warmth in her gaze making his chest tighten. “Anytime.”

As she unlocked the door and stepped inside, she turned back, holding up the notepad again. See you at the theater?

His grin widened. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

And as she closed the door behind her, Cassian stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where she’d been, wondering how this woman had managed to captivate him so completely.

The theater buzzed with anticipation as the crowd settled into their seats, the soft hum of chatter filling the air. Cassian leaned back, arms crossed, his wings tucked in tight against the velvet seat.

The lights dimmed, and the theater fell silent. Cassian’s sharp eyes picked her out immediately as she entered the stage. She moved like she was part of the music itself, her dress flowing like liquid silver under the soft glow of the lights. His chest tightened at the sight of her—so composed, so seemingly untouchable.

She sat at the piano royale, her hands hovering above the keys. The first notes sang through the air, tender yet commanding, and the entire room was transfixed. Cassian had never considered himself a man drawn to delicate things, yet here he was, attending every performance like some besotted fool.

But tonight… something was different.

Her fingers faltered.

The wrong note struck, a sharp discordant sound that cut through the melody like a blade. Cassian stiffened, his senses on high alert. Y/N paused, her shoulders rigid as if trying to compose herself. Then she tried again. The music resumed, but it lacked the fluidity he’d come to admire.

She faltered a second time.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, confusion and concern spreading like wildfire. Cassian’s instincts kicked in. He sat forward, every muscle in his body taut as he watched her hands tremble on the keys. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, and she was pale—too pale.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered to himself.

Y/N abruptly stood, swaying as though she might collapse. Her hands clenched into fists, and Cassian’s heart dropped as she stumbled away from the piano. The audience gasped as she braced herself against the instrument, her head bowed as if she were fighting some invisible force.

Cassian didn’t wait. He shot out of his seat, ignoring the whispers and stares as he pushed through the rows of patrons toward the stage. He didn’t care about protocol or appearances—something was happening to her, and he wasn’t about to stand by and watch.

The theater staff hesitated as he stormed past them, his towering frame cutting through their protests. By the time he reached her, Y/N was being helped off the stage by one of the attendants, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice low and firm, but she didn’t lift her head.

“Sir, you can’t—” one of the staff members began, but Cassian silenced them with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

Without another word, he slipped his arm under Y/N’s, steadying her as she fought to stand upright. Her gaze briefly met his, and he saw it—the fear, the frustration, and something deeper.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said softly, his protective instincts roaring to life.

Pain clawed through her chest as she clutched the piano for support, her vision swimming. She had never faltered like this before. Never. For years, she had managed to suppress the curse, to keep its dark tendrils at bay with sheer willpower and the solace of her music.

But tonight, it had won.

Her legs trembled as she stumbled off the stage, the world around her blurring into a sea of shocked faces and hushed whispers. Panic threatened to consume her. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not yet. She had always known the curse would catch up with her eventually, but she had hoped for more time.

As she reached the wings of the stage, a strong, familiar arm wrapped around her waist. She looked up, and there he was. Cassian.

Why was he here? He had no business being this close to her, seeing her like this��vulnerable, broken. Yet his hold was steady, his presence grounding in a way that both frightened and comforted her.

The curse was getting stronger. She could feel it now, a dark weight pressing against her chest, making it harder to breathe. Her music had always been her shield, a way to channel the curse’s power and keep it from consuming her. But tonight, even that had failed her.

She closed her eyes, leaning into Cassian’s warmth despite herself. She shouldn’t. Letting him get close was dangerous—for both of them. He didn’t know what she carried, the burden that clung to her like a shadow. If he did, he would leave. They all left eventually.

But part of her wanted to tell him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “You’re safe now.”

Safe. The word felt like a cruel joke. She would never be safe, not while this curse still bound her, twisting her life into something unrecognizable.

As they reached the privacy of her dressing room, she sagged into the nearest chair, clutching her arms around herself. Her mind raced with fear and frustration. The curse was escalating, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it off.

Cassian crouched before her, his hazel eyes filled with concern. “What happened out there?”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came. Frustration boiled over, and she gestured to her throat, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to talk,” he said gently. “Just… let me help.”

Her heart twisted at his words. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. But the look in his eyes—so earnest, so determined—made her chest ache. She wanted to let him in, to tell him everything, but the weight of the curse held her back.

She couldn’t do that to him.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor of her small apartment. Y/N sat at the edge of her bed, her hands wrapped tightly around a warm mug of tea. She had barely slept, her thoughts a whirlwind of last night’s events.

The performance had been a disaster. She could still hear the discordant notes that had slipped from her fingers, the tremor in her hands, the strange, suffocating sensation that had overtaken her body. It had felt like her curse, that dark power she had kept under tight control for so long, had risen up within her and demanded to be noticed.

Cassian had seen it.

He’d been so gentle with her afterward, yet his concern was unmistakable. He hadn’t left her side until she was safely in her apartment, and even then, she’d caught a glimpse of him perched on the rooftop across the street, his form outlined by the soft glow of the streetlights.

The memory of his quiet insistence on her well-being made her stomach flip again. He’d asked so many questions—about how she was feeling, what had happened during the performance, if she had been overworking herself.

And she had said nothing.

She had only shaken her head and offered a weak smile, the one she wore when she needed to shield herself from the world. She couldn’t tell him. How could she? How could she explain something so awful, so dangerous, when she couldn’t even find a way to keep it from taking over her own body?

He’d been so persistent, so sincere in his concern, but she had been silent, the weight of her secrets pressing down on her chest. She saw the doubt in his eyes, the confusion that crept in when she didn’t answer his questions.

He hadn’t pushed, though. That was the thing. He hadn’t pressured her to speak. Instead, he’d carefully guided her to the door, his arm steady around her waist as he had offered to fly her home. When she’d refused, he hadn’t argued. Instead, he had walked her home, his pace steady and protective.

Cassian had talked to her, enough to distract her, enough to keep her mind from spiraling into the overwhelming chaos that constantly threatened to consume her. The rhythm of his words had grounded her, and she had found herself listening without thinking. She had told him nothing, but he had somehow made her feel safe.

When they had reached her apartment, he had paused at the door, his expression serious as he had reassured her that he would be nearby—just in case she needed him. Then, he had taken off into the sky, his powerful wings cutting through the night air.

Cassian hadn’t left her mind since. His words, his actions—they lingered in her thoughts like a haunting melody, one that made her both want to embrace the warmth and pull away in fear. The curse, the reason she could never be truly close to anyone, was the reason she couldn’t let him in. She couldn’t burden him with her problems, not when he didn’t deserve it.

But as she sat there, alone in her apartment, she couldn’t help but replay the events of the night.

Had she been too careless? She had kept the curse locked away for so long, but was it finally starting to take its toll on her body? What if this was just the beginning? What if it would only get worse from here?

Her chest tightened, and she placed a hand over her heart, trying to calm the fluttering panic rising within her. She had lived with this curse for so long, but now it felt different. More threatening. More uncontrollable.

Y/N’s mind swirled with these thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. She had tried so hard to maintain control, to keep herself distant from others, but she could feel the walls she had built around herself starting to crack.

And it terrified her.

She had always known that the curse would eventually catch up with her. But she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, or for someone like Cassian to come so close to seeing the cracks in her armor.

It was easier to pretend she was fine, to act like everything was normal, but she couldn’t keep up the act forever.

And if last night had taught her anything, it was that her curse wasn’t going anywhere. It was only a matter of time before it completely consumed her, and she wasn’t sure if she could bear to let anyone close enough to see it happen.

Her fingers tightened around the mug, her nails pressing into the porcelain, as she fought to steady her breathing. It was just one night. Just one slip-up. She would be fine. She had to be.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

Cassian’s wings beat heavily in the air as he soared above the city, his mind a whirl of thoughts that he couldn’t quiet. The night had lingered with him, and he had barely slept since walking Y/N to her door. It wasn’t just the shock of her performance faltering—no, it was the look in her eyes afterward, the guarded silence she had wrapped around herself.

He had been gentle with her, careful to give her space and not pry too much into what had happened, but he could still feel her retreating from him. It wasn’t the first time he had met someone with secrets, but this felt different. The way her hands shook as she played, the way her breath had caught in her throat before she’d stopped mid-performance—there was something there, something she wasn’t telling him.

And it pissed him off.

Cassian gritted his teeth as he landed on the balcony of his apartment, wings folding with a fluid motion. He walked inside, but the moment his boots hit the floor, his thoughts immediately returned to her.

What had happened to her?

He couldn’t get the image of her out of his head—the delicate lines of her face, the fire in her eyes despite her evident struggle. And the way she had refused to tell him anything.

After a long, restless night, Cassian had done the only thing that made sense—he had gone to Rhysand.

Now, sitting in the study room with both Azriel and Rhys, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. His thoughts spilled from him, his voice tense as he recounted the events.

“I’m telling you, something’s not right with her,” Cassian said, pacing the floor. “I’ve never seen anyone react like that before. She was fine one moment, and then suddenly…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like she’s hiding something. She’s a damned mystery.”

Azriel, ever the quiet observer, leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing. “You think she’s hiding something from you?”

Cassian nodded, frustration evident in his tone. “Of course she is. She didn’t tell me anything—nothing about what happened at the show, nothing about why she couldn’t finish. It’s like she’s shielding herself from everyone.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked to Rhysand, a silent question passing between them. Rhysand, who had been listening intently, now raised an eyebrow.

“Who is it you’re talking about, Cassian?” Rhysand asked, his voice calm but curious.

Cassian hesitated for a moment. “Her name’s Y/N. She’s the pianist at the theater I’ve been visiting. The one I told Az about.”

Rhysand’s gaze sharpened, and he stood up, his wings ruffling behind him. “Wait a moment… Y/N? As in the pianist from summer?”

Cassian nodded, confused by Rhysand’s sudden recognition.

“Yeah, that’s the one. You know her?”

Rhysand’s face darkened, and he looked at Cassian with a mix of disbelief and something else—something deeper. “I do. She was one of Amarantha’s victims. I was there when it happened.”

Cassian froze, his heart sinking. “What do you mean? What happened to her?”

Rhysand’s jaw tightened, his gaze turning distant as the memories flooded back. “Amarantha had her voice taken away. Anyone who dared to speak against her—she silenced them in the cruelest ways. Y/N…” Rhysand’s voice dropped to a lower pitch, filled with sympathy. “Her curse was placed upon her during that time. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even sing. But it was worse than that. Her voice was stolen, not just taken. The power of it was bound to a curse.”

Cassian’s fists clenched at his sides. Anger surged through him, hot and fierce. “How is that possible? How could anyone do that to someone like her?”

Rhysand’s eyes met his, filled with grim understanding. “Amarantha had a way of breaking the subjects. She found a way to take their essence, their power, and twist it. Y/N was no different. But after Hybern fell, she sought refuge here in Velaris. I’ve seen her around, but I didn’t know the full extent of what had happened to her. I didn’t know she was still struggling with the curse.”

Cassian felt his chest tighten. Y/N. The female he had been so captivated by. The one who had captivated him without saying a single word. And yet, here she was, bearing a curse so dark, so consuming, that she had been left to carry it alone all this time.

“She hasn’t told you about her curse, has she?” Rhysand asked quietly, his eyes probing Cassian’s face.

“No,” Cassian said through gritted teeth.

Azriel, who had remained silent through most of the conversation, now leaned forward. “She’s not hiding from you, Cassian. She’s hiding from the curse.”

Cassian’s gaze snapped to Azriel, who continued. “She’s scared. Whatever’s happening to her, it’s worse than you think. She’s afraid of what it could do—not just to her, but to the people around her. And she’s scared that if you find out, you’ll run. That’s why she doesn’t talk about it. She doesn’t want to burden anyone with her curse.”

Cassian felt his chest tighten again, but this time, it was a different kind of tightness. He had been so focused on the mystery of Y/N, on the way she had pulled away from him, that he hadn’t even considered the depth of what she was dealing with.

“Please,” he said, his voice softer now, “I need help. I can’t just sit back and watch her slowly fall apart. There’s something deeper there. I can feel it.”

Rhysand and Azriel exchanged a look, one that Cassian couldn’t quite decipher. Then Rhysand stood up, his wings flexing.

“Alright,” he said, his voice firm, “We’ll keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s safe, make sure she’s well. But you need to be patient, Cassian. She won’t open up to you unless she’s ready. You have to respect that.”

Cassian nodded, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “I understand. But I can’t just leave her to suffer alone. She deserves better than that.”

Azriel clapped him on the back. “We know, Cass. We’ll help. You just need to be patient.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed as he thought about Y/N, her vulnerability, and the walls she had built around herself. He hadn’t cracked her yet, not fully, but something in him told him that he would. He wouldn’t stop until he had helped her, until he had destroyed that curse for good.

For her.

He made a silent promise to himself then, as Rhysand and Azriel discussed their next steps. He would help Y/N, no matter the cost. He would break down every wall she put up and stand by her side, no matter what secrets she was hiding.

And he would destroy that curse.

No matter what.

Y/N had stayed home that day, too drained from the previous night's performance to do anything. The aftermath of the curse's flare-up weighed heavily on her, making her body feel as though it were made of stone, stiff and unyielding.

The soft knock at the door startled her, breaking her thoughts.

At first, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. Who could be visiting her now? No one knew she lived here. But when the knock came again, more insistent this time, she stood up, her joints stiff from the prolonged rest.

When she opened the door, her breath caught in her throat.

There, at her doorstep, sat a wicker basket overflowing with fresh flowers, soft pastel-colored ribbons, and a few food items carefully packed inside. A small folded note lay atop it, written in a familiar scrawl that made her chest tighten.

For the lovely pianist who fills the air with music and beauty. I hope this helps lift your spirits, even if just for a moment. – Cassian.

She stood there for a long moment, staring at the basket. The warmth of the gesture caught her off guard. No one had ever thought to do something like this for her—no one but him. He had noticed her, understood her silence, and cared enough to leave a piece of himself behind. Her fingers hovered over the note, and her heart fluttered uncomfortably.

With a hesitant glance around, she wondered if he was nearby, but there was no sign of him. A pang of disappointment stung her chest at the thought. Still, she couldn’t help but smile softly, touched by his kindness.

She bent down to gather the basket and gently set it inside. But as she stood up, a sharp pain suddenly pierced her chest, causing her breath to catch. She staggered back, feeling the familiar sense of weight pressing down on her. The curse—no, the power within her was shifting again.

She tried to take a breath, but it wasn’t enough. Her vision swam, and the world tilted. She tried to steady herself, but her knees buckled beneath her.

Not now. Not like this…

Her heart pounded as the curse flared again, relentless and painful, constricting her chest, filling her throat with invisible hands. She collapsed to the ground, her fingers clutching her chest in a desperate attempt to find air. Please, please, just let me breathe.

Her efforts were futile as her body gave way to the pain and darkness swallowed her whole.

Cassian grinned to himself as he made his way down the stairs, his heart a little lighter than usual. He had been thinking about her all day, wondering how she would react to the little surprise he’d left for her. He hadn’t been sure at first whether it was a good idea—whether it was too forward—but something about Y/N made him want to show her he cared.

He had picked out the best flowers, the sweetest fruits, and a few small indulgences. Nothing extravagant, just a little something to brighten her day.

She deserves it, he thought with a satisfied smile. And maybe, just maybe, it will make her smile.

Cassian had wanted to be around when she opened the basket, to see the look on her face, but he had made sure to slip away quietly, vanishing into the shadows once he had left the gift on her doorstep. He would have stayed if he could, but he had a matter at hand that required his attention.

Still, the thought of her reaction kept him grinning as he made his way to the library. He was certain she would be happy—no one had ever done something like that for her, had they? He hoped it would at least make her feel a little less isolated, less burdened by the silence that seemed to weigh on her so heavily.

His thoughts were interrupted when a soft voice called from behind him, snapping him out of his musings.

“Cassian,” a priestess said, her hands extended, holding several large books on sign language. “I have the books you requested.” She also gestured toward a woman standing beside her, Mariella, who was mute. “Mariella is one of our own who uses sign language, and she has agreed to help you practice. These books will help you understand how to communicate with those who do not speak verbally.”

Cassian's eyes lit up with excitement. This was exactly what he had been waiting for. He had been eager to learn, not just to make things easier for Y/N, but because he wanted to understand her better—he wanted to make sure she didn’t feel alone.

I’ll learn. I’ll do whatever it takes, he promised himself.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere as he accepted the books. His eyes brightened as he turned toward Mariella, smiling warmly at her. “This will be amazing. Thank you for agreeing to help me.”

Mariella smiled back, a quiet, appreciative expression.

As they got to work, Cassian found himself mentally back in his conversation with Y/N, still wondering how she was reacting to the gift. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of her face, her eyes when she received it.

But the thought of her now… it had been replaced by the quiet determination to learn sign language and help her, however he could.

Later on in the night, Cassian’s wings beat steadily as he soared through the skies. However, a strange sense of unease kept gnawing at him. It was almost as if the world had shifted in a way he couldn’t quite explain, and his instincts were bristling, urging him to check on her.

He had no logical reason for concern, but Cassian trusted his instincts more than anything. They’d never steered him wrong before.

As he circled above her home, the soft glow from the windows cast faint shadows on the ground below. But then something caught his eye—a rolling object, bouncing slowly down the steps. It was one of the apples he had chosen so carefully for her.

His heart skipped a beat.

The apple rolled out of sight, and for a moment, Cassian’s stomach tightened. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for him to notice. His pulse quickened. Something was wrong. His wings angled downward, the urgency within him rising as the doors of his mind swung wide open. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to land, to investigate.

He descended rapidly, his feet hitting the ground just in time for him to notice a sense of stillness in the air. There was no movement, no light from inside the house. His protective instincts flared to life, and his fists clenched at his sides. Something wasn’t right.

Cassian approached the door slowly, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement. He pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges louder than usual in the silence of the night.

His gaze landed on her almost instantly.

Y/N lay unmoving on the floor, her body curled slightly, her face pale and twisted in pain. The air around her seemed heavier than usual, thick with the weight of whatever curse plagued her. Cassian’s heart slammed against his ribcage as he rushed forward, his breath coming faster, his body charged with alarm.

“No, no, no,” he muttered to himself as he knelt beside her, panic threatening to seize him. Her chest barely rose and fell, her lips a faint shade of blue. He could see the signs of the curse’s latest flare-up, the way her breathing was shallow, her body fighting against an invisible force.

Cassian’s hands trembled as he carefully placed them on her shoulders, lifting her slightly to check for any obvious injuries. His mind raced, furious that she was alone like this, that he hadn’t been there sooner. He couldn’t let her die like this. Not after everything.

“Y/N!” His voice was hoarse, desperation lacing each word. “Come on, breathe. I need you to fight.”

She remained still, her eyelids flickering but not opening. Cassian’s jaw tightened in frustration, helplessness gnawing at his insides. His mind, usually so sharp and clear, was clouded with a thousand thoughts. He needed to focus. He needed to help her.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his anger and concern swirling inside him. Without thinking twice, he reached out mentally to Rhysand and Azriel, his thoughts flooding with worry.

Rhys, Az, something’s happened—Y/N’s in trouble. She’s—she’s unconscious, and her curse flared up again. She’s not breathing properly, and I can’t—

His words were cut off as Rhys’s calm voice echoed in his mind. Cassian, calm down. I have already talked with Helion to have hids libraries be searched for a solution. Priestesses are also hard at work. Keep her safe. Azriel, keep an eye (ora shadow) out for her. Send anyone to be near her house at all times.

Cassian could feel the protective power of Rhys’s words even across the distance. He had to stay calm. But the frustration clawed at him.

Cassian’s gaze softened as he sat down next to her, careful not to disturb her fragile form. His mind was filled with both anger and a deep sense of helplessness. I won’t let this continue, Rhys. I’ll break this curse, I swear it.

Azriel’s voice cut through, quieter but filled with the same sense of urgency. We’ll figure it out. Just don’t leave her side, Cassian. Don’t do anything reckless.

Cassian nodded, though he knew they couldn’t see him. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak out loud as his emotions swirled. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll do whatever it takes.

Rhys’ mental presence was still strong, his voice calm but resolute. Cassian, when she wakes, we’ll help you with this. If she’s willing, maybe she’ll want to come back to the House of Wind with you. It will be safer for her there, with Azriel and Nesta. You know what we can do to help.

Cassian’s thoughts were consumed with a flurry of emotions—protectiveness, desperation, frustration. I just need her to be okay. Please let her be okay.

Rhys’ voice softened. I know, Cassian. We’ll do everything we can. Stay with her. We’ll be there shortly.

Cassian’s mental communication with Rhys and Azriel ceased, but the weight of their words lingered. I’ll keep her safe.He repeated it over and over in his head, willing it to be true.

Minutes felt like hours. His eyes stayed glued to Y/N, unwilling to blink for fear that something would happen while his gaze was turned. Every time her chest moved with a shallow breath, he sighed in relief. But that wasn’t enough. He needed her to wake up, to be okay. He would do whatever it took.

Suddenly, a shift in the air. He noticed her chest rise higher, her breath deepening, and a soft flutter of her eyelids. His heart surged in his chest, hope blooming.

Her eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first. Cassian was at her side in an instant, his hand hovering near her but not quite touching her. The moment his gaze met hers, everything else ceased to exist.

Her breath was still shaky, but she was alive. Her eyes locked onto his, a mixture of confusion and fear flickering in them as she tried to process what had just happened. Cassian’s chest tightened as he stared into her wide, silent eyes. His hand reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face, the tenderness in his touch matching the softness in his heart.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re safe now.”

She blinked slowly, and Cassian felt a sense of relief wash over him.

But there was still so much to be done. Cassian felt his determination rise again, a wave of protectiveness flooding through him. He was going to fix this. He wouldn’t let her suffer anymore.

Rhys’ voice echoed faintly in his mind. Let us know what happens, Cassian.

Y/N was tucked into her bed, the soft lamplight casting a warm glow across the room. Cassian sat beside her, a steaming cup of tea in hand. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, his focus entirely on her as he gently held the cup to her lips. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering to his before taking a small sip.

The tea was soothing, and she leaned back against the pillows with a faint, grateful smile. Cassian set the cup aside, his hazel eyes watching her with a mix of concern and determination.

The silence stretched between them until he finally broke it. “I feel really uneasy leaving you here alone,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “Rhys has already promised to have someone stationed near your house at all times to ensure your safety. But...” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck, his wings shifting slightly behind him. “I’d feel a lot better if you came with me to the House of Wind. It’s safer there.”

Y/N blinked, her brows knitting together in surprise. She reached for the notepad on her bedside table and scribbled a quick response before holding it up for him to read.

Rhys? As in Rhysand? The High Lord?

Cassian chuckled softly, a small smile breaking through his worry. “Yes, Rhysand. The High Lord himself.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she quickly wrote her next message. I’m honored, truly, but I wouldn’t want to be a burden or an inconvenience.

Cassian’s expression softened, but there was a hint of exasperation in his tone. “Nonsense. You could never be a burden, Y/N. We’ve all already agreed it’s the best place for you.”

But Y/N wasn’t convinced. She shook her head and scribbled another note. No. I don’t belong there. I’m just... me. No one needs me there.

Before Cassian could respond, her body suddenly tensed. Her hands flew to her throat, her face contorting in pain as her chest heaved. The curse struck again, sharp and unrelenting. She clenched her eyes shut, her fingers digging into his arm as she gasped for air.

“Y/N!” Cassian exclaimed, moving closer to steady her. His hands hovered protectively over her, his voice softening. “Breathe through it. I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

The wave of pain subsided after what felt like an eternity, leaving her slumped against the pillows, her breaths shallow but steady. Cassian’s jaw tightened as he watched her, his heart breaking at the sight of her suffering.

He took a deep breath, his tone firm but gentle. “You know what? I’m sorry if what I said earlier sounded like a question. You’re coming with me, Y/N. No way in hell am I leaving you here to deal with this on your own.”

Y/N weakly grabbed her notepad, her hands trembling as she scribbled, No. I’m too shy. It is not a place for me.

Cassian gently pried the notepad from her hands, his gaze unwavering. “That’s where you’re wrong. You do belong there, and we do need you. And if anyone has the audacity to make you feel otherwise, I’ll personally make sure they regret it.”

Her lips twitched at his vehemence, a tiny smile breaking through despite her exhaustion.

Cassian smirked, leaning closer. “Besides, Rhys, Feyre, Az, and even Nesta have already agreed. They’re looking forward to having you there. So, like I said—this isn’t a question.”

She gave him a pointed look, writing a quick response. You’re stubborn.

“And you’re just figuring that out?” he teased, his grin widening.

I don’t want to trouble anyone, she wrote, her expression earnest.

Cassian sighed, his tone softening. “Y/N, you’re not trouble. You’re family now, whether you like it or not. And families look out for each other.”

Her eyes softened at his words, the weight of her resistance crumbling under his steady resolve. With a small sigh, she finally nodded.

Cassian’s face lit up with a triumphant smile. “Good. I promise you won’t regret this. Don’t worry about your things—I’ll have them sent to the House of Wind. For now, just focus on feeling better. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Y/N gave him a faint smile, her eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion pulled at her. Cassian leaned back in his chair, his watchful gaze never leaving her as she drifted off.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The wind whipped against her face as Cassian flew them toward the House of Wind, the towering mountain structure growing larger with every passing moment. His arms were strong and steady around her, his warmth cutting through the chill of the high altitude. She clung to him, not out of fear but because the contact sent an unfamiliar flutter through her chest.

There was something about him—his presence, his strength—that made her feel safe. For the first time in what felt like years, she could breathe, even if the air up here was thin. She stole a glance at his profile as they soared higher, his sharp jawline and focused gaze drawing her in. Her pulse quickened, and she quickly looked away, chastising herself for the strange butterflies stirring within her.

When they landed at the House of Wind, she was momentarily struck silent—not that she could speak anyway—by the sheer beauty of it. The sprawling structure perched atop the mountain radiated elegance and power. Cassian set her down gently, his hands lingering for a moment before he stepped back.

“This way,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him inside.

The grand doors opened, and the entire Inner Circle was waiting for her. Rhysand stood at the forefront with Feyre by his side, both of them emanating an aura of warmth and authority. Behind them, Azriel leaned casually against a wall, his shadows curling around him, while Mor, Amren, Nesta, and Elain stood nearby.

Rhysand’s gaze softened as it landed on her. He stepped forward, his tone gentle. “Welcome, Y/N. This is your home now, for as long as you wish it to be.”

She nodded quickly, clutching her notepad tightly, unsure of how else to respond.

Feyre smiled kindly. “We’re so glad you’re here. If there’s anything you need—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

The others chimed in with their greetings, each of them offering warm or curious words of welcome. Mor’s grin was wide and infectious, while Amren’s sharp eyes seemed to assess her with a quiet intensity. Elain gave her a soft smile, and Nesta... well, Nesta simply nodded, but even that felt like an acknowledgment.

But it was Rhysand’s words that lingered the longest. “I know you’ve endured much,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “You survived Amarantha’s cruelty, and that alone makes you stronger than you realize. You have nothing to prove to us, Y/N. You’re safe here.”

Her throat tightened at his words, and she quickly scribbled a note: Thank you for your kindness. I’ll do my best not to be a burden.

Rhys shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You’re no burden. You’re family now.”

The weight of his words made her chest ache—not from pain, but from an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Cassian stepped forward, breaking the moment. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”

She followed him silently, the noise of the others fading as they ascended a set of stairs. Her heart pounded as they walked down a hallway, stopping in front of a door. Cassian grinned, gesturing to the room beside it. “That’s my room, so if you need anything, I’m just next door.”

He opened her door, revealing a cozy, sunlit space with a plush bed, a small sitting area, and a window that offered a breathtaking view of Velaris. She stepped inside, still clutching her notepad, and turned to thank him.

Before she could write anything, Cassian spoke. “I promise to help you find a way to get rid of this curse, one way or another.”

Her eyes widened, the notepad slipping slightly from her grasp.

He shrugged, his voice softening. “Rhys told me. About Amarantha. About what she did to you. I... I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you’re not alone anymore. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her hands trembled as she wrote: No one can break it. It’s killing me slowly. There’s no way to stop it.

Cassian’s expression hardened, his hazel eyes blazing with determination as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “We’ll see about that,” he said firmly. “I don’t care what it takes or how impossible it seems. I’m not giving up on you.”

She stared at him, stunned by his resolve. The smallest of smiles tugged at her lips as she nodded, though deep down, a bitter truth whispered that his promise was futile.

“Get some rest,” Cassian said, his voice softening again. “Your things will be brought up soon. And if you need anything—anything at all—you know where to find me.”

She nodded again, watching as he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and she sank onto the bed, her heart heavy with both hope and despair.

No one could break the curse. Not even Cassian.

And yet, as she closed her eyes, that flicker of warmth he’d left behind refused to extinguish.

Cassian stood in Rhysand’s office with Azriel and Rhys, poring over books and scrolls. Every lead they had on Amarantha’s curses turned into a dead end.

Unfortunately, all was same on Helion's side as well as his librarians kept searching nonstop for a cure.

“She wasn’t just cruel,” Rhys said, his voice tight with anger. “She was meticulous. Every curse she created was designed to last.”

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him. “There must be something she overlooked. No curse is perfect.”

Cassian slammed a book shut. “I don’t care what it takes. I’m not letting her suffer like this. We’ve fought gods before—we’ll find a way.”

Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll keep looking. But Cassian... don’t let this consume you.”

Cassian didn’t reply, his jaw clenched as he flipped open another book.

Cassian and Y/N sat in the training ring, the sun casting a golden glow over the House of Wind. The faint rustle of the wind filled the quiet as he stretched his legs out, his wings half-spread to soak in the warmth. She sat cross-legged beside him, her notepad resting on her lap, though her pen hovered uncertainly above the page.

He gestured toward the notepad. “You’ve got a real talent there,” he said, nodding toward a detailed sketch of the training ring she’d been working on earlier. “Did you always draw, or is it something you picked up along the way?”

She glanced at him, hesitant, before jotting down her response: I started as a child. It helped me stay calm.

“Smart,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “Az used to say the same thing about throwing knives. Something to focus on, to drown out the noise.”

Her lips twitched, and she wrote: Knives sound less calming.

Cassian laughed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Fair point. I guess drawing is a bit more peaceful.” He tilted his head, watching her as she added shading to a corner of the sketch. “What do you draw when you’re not sketching stuff like this?”

She paused, chewing on her lip, before scribbling: Dreams. Things I’ll never have.

His expression softened, his hazel eyes darkening as he studied her. “Dreams aren’t things you can’t have. They’re just things you don’t have yet.”

Her hand stilled over the page, and she looked at him, surprised.

He shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s easy. But look at me—grew up with nothing. No family, no home, no future. Now I’ve got people who’d go to the ends of the earth for me, a family who fights for me, a place to call mine. If I can get all that, anyone can.”

She looked down at her notepad, her fingers brushing the edge of the page as if considering his words. Finally, she scribbled: Maybe one day.

Cassian grinned. “Maybe one day,” he echoed. “But don’t think I won’t keep trying to convince you sooner.”

She rolled her eyes at his persistence, but a faint smile tugged at her lips.

“See? There it is,” he teased, pointing at her face.

Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head in question.

“That smile,” he clarified, his voice softening. “I knew it was hiding somewhere.”

She shook her head, amused despite herself, and started to sketch again.

Cassian leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t have to be shy around me, you know,” he said gently. “I’d like to know more about you, too.”

She hesitated, her pen hovering over the page, before finally writing: Maybe one day.

“Fair enough,” he said with a nod, his grin playful but understanding. “But just so you know, I’m a pretty patient guy. I’ve got all the time in the world to wait.”

Y/N found herself slowly being drawn into the Inner Circle’s orbit. With Feyre they painted together in the studio, Feyre encouraging her to express herself through colors and strokes. Y/N’s hesitation faded as the canvas filled with soft, sweeping lines.

Mor dragged her into town, insisting on a day of shopping and laughter. Y/N couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped her when Mor modeled a particularly outrageous dress.Amren’s bluntness surprised her, but it was oddly comforting. They shared a quiet afternoon, Amren reading while Y/N sketched, the silence feeling more like companionship than solitude. Elain introduced her to gardening, showing her how to tend to the delicate blooms in the House of Wind’s gardens. Y/N found the gentle work soothing.

Nesta and Y/N shared an unspoken understanding, a connection forged in the quiet echoes of pain neither could fully articulate.

One afternoon, Nesta found her in the library, seated at a secluded table, surrounded by stacks of books she was carefully sorting. Y/N’s notepad lay beside her, already filled with scribbled notes. The soft glow of sunlight streaming through the high windows illuminated her focused expression.

Nesta hesitated at first, then pulled out a chair and sat across from her. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, Nesta spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “You don’t have to explain. I know what it’s like to carry something you think no one else can understand.”

Y/N stilled, her pen pausing mid-note. She lifted her gaze to meet Nesta’s, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Slowly, she reached for her notepad and wrote: Thank you.

Nesta’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, one that carried no judgment, only understanding. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing Y/N’s hand before resting over it gently. “You’re not alone anymore,” she said, her tone firm, a quiet strength underpinning her words. “None of us are.”

For a moment, Y/N stared at her, as though weighing the truth in those words. Then, almost reluctantly, she nodded.

Nesta leaned back slightly, her fingers lingering a moment longer before she let go. “This place,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the library around them, “it helped me. Gave me something to hold onto when I didn’t want to hold onto anything. If you ever need that—or someone to just sit with you—I’ll be here.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile, and she quickly wrote: That means more than I can say.

Nesta smirked, her eyes glinting with a hint of her usual fire. “Good thing I’m pretty good at reading between the lines.”

Y/N huffed a silent laugh, the soundless gesture enough to make Nesta’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.

Cassian found Y/N on the balcony overlooking Velaris, the city sparkling like a sea of stars beneath the night sky. She sat curled in a chair, her sketchbook balanced on her knees as she worked quietly, the gentle breeze tousling her hair.

He approached her slowly, his footsteps deliberately soft so as not to startle her. When she looked up, offering him a small smile, she reached instinctively for her notepad.

Before she could grab it, Cassian crouched down beside her, gently taking her hand to stop her. “Wait,” he said softly.

She blinked at him, puzzled, as he raised his hands and began to sign. It was slow, a little clumsy, but unmistakable: I’ve been practicing. For you.

Y/N froze, her eyes going wide with shock. Her sketchbook slid forgotten onto her lap as she stared at him. Tears welled in her eyes, and her hands trembled as she lifted them to sign back: You learned this? For me?

Cassian nodded, a small, warm smile curving his lips. “I told you,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m not giving up on you. Not now, not ever.”

Her hands flew to her mouth as a soft, soundless gasp escaped her. Overwhelmed, she couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

Cassian stood, closing the small distance between them, and held his arms open. She hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping into him, her face pressing against his chest as his strong arms wrapped around her.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured, his voice steady but filled with emotion as he gently stroked her back. “We’ll figure it out, together. I promise.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look up at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. Slowly, she raised her hands again, signing haltingly but clearly: Thank you. For seeing me.

Cassian smiled down at her, his thumb brushing away a stray tear on her cheek. “I’ll always see you.”

In that quiet moment, with the stars above and the city below, the weight she carried felt just a little lighter. For the first time in a long while, hope bloomed in her chest.

The warm breeze from the open window carried the scent of fresh flowers into the room. Cassian leaned against the doorframe, watching Y/N as she carefully sketched in her notebook. There was a serenity to her today, a softness that he cherished. It had been two months since she’d arrived at the House of Wind, and though she had remained largely quiet, there were moments like this when she seemed to open up, even if only a little.

After a long silence, Y/N set her pencil down and reached for her notepad. Cassian raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but she didn’t look up at him right away. Instead, her fingers moved quickly, and then she held it up for him to see.

I grew up in the Summer Court, the words read, the ink delicate and precise.

Cassian’s heart warmed at the thought. “The Summer Court,” he repeated softly, stepping closer to her. He could tell this was a rare piece of herself she was offering him, so he knelt beside her, giving her the space to continue.

She glanced up at him, her eyes shy but filled with quiet hope, as though she was wondering if he would judge her. But Cassian’s expression was one of kindness, and he smiled gently.

Y/N signed again, the fluid movements of her hands capturing his full attention. “It was beautiful there. The sea, the sand, the sunsets... everything felt warm. My people, they love the light.” She paused, biting her lip, before adding, I loved the sunsets most of all.

Cassian’s smile widened, feeling a gentle tug on his heart at the thought of her happy memories. “I can only imagine. I bet the sunsets there are unlike anything I’ve seen.”

She nodded, her smile small but genuine, as though she was reliving those moments in her mind. The sunsets were perfect, painted in the most beautiful shades of gold and pink. They made everything feel peaceful... like nothing could ever go wrong.

Cassian sat beside her then, watching the sun dip low outside the window, as if honoring the memory she was sharing. He could almost picture it—the rolling waves, the warm sands, the endless horizon stretching before her.

“What happened to your home?” he asked quietly, not wanting to push her but also eager to understand more of her story.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing over the notepad again. Then she signed softly, her voice barely a whisper, even though her words were silent. It’s gone now. The court… it's not the same anymore. I haven’t been back since.

Cassian’s heart tightened at the quiet sorrow that passed over her features. She didn’t have to say more. He could feel the weight of her loss in her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “You didn’t deserve that.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile, one that spoke volumes. It wasn’t pity she sought, but understanding. And he gave it to her, without question.

With a soft exhale, Y/N wrote one last thing before turning the notepad to him: I don’t miss the court, not anymore. But I miss the peace. The quiet beauty of it all.

Cassian nodded, understanding more than she could know. He had lost so much in his own life, pieces of himself, pieces of those he loved. But this, her willingness to share her memories—her pain, too—made him feel closer to her than ever.

“I’ll make sure you have peace again,” he said, his voice firm with the promise. “It might take time, but I’ll make sure you find it.”

Y/N’s eyes softened at his words, and for the briefest moment, it felt like the entire world outside was forgotten. Just them, in this quiet corner of the House of Wind, two souls bonding over shared moments of pain and hope.

And in that moment, Cassian couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, they both had a chance at healing.

It was another one of those nights.

The pain struck without warning, a searing, unbearable wave that made her knees buckle. Y/N collapsed to the floor, clutching her throat as her vision swam. Her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, her fingers clawing at the air as if she could wrench the agony from her body.

Cassian, asleep just a room away, jolted awake. Something primal, something tethered to her, pulled him to her side. He burst into her room within seconds, shirtless and frantic, his wings slightly flaring as he skidded to a halt beside her.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice laced with panic. He dropped to his knees, gathering her trembling form into his arms as though he could shield her from whatever torment was tearing her apart.

Her lips parted, struggling to form words, but no sound came. Her hands scrabbled weakly at his arm, nails digging into his skin as the pain wracked her body. Tears streamed down her face, and Cassian swore he felt every single one like a knife to his chest.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, his hand cradling the back of her head while the other pressed against her back, grounding her. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay. Just breathe with me.”

The wave finally passed, leaving her limp and gasping for air. Y/N’s trembling fingers moved weakly, forming signs that he had painstakingly learned: It’s okay.

“No,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. He gripped her face gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It’s not okay. This—this isn’t okay, and I’m not letting it win. Do you hear me?” His voice cracked at the end, betraying the storm of emotions raging inside him.

Her wide, glassy eyes filled with fresh tears as she shook her head, trying to offer him reassurance. Her hands moved again, slower this time: It’s not your fault.

Cassian let out a bitter laugh, his jaw tightening. “Maybe not, but I’ll be damned if I sit here and do nothing while this thing—whatever it is—tries to take you from me.”

He pulled her closer, holding her like she was the most fragile thing in the world, his calloused hands gentle as they rubbed soothing circles on her back. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less determined. “I swear to you, Y/N. I don’t care what it takes or who I have to fight—I won’t stop until you’re free of this.”

Y/N let her head rest against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comfort amidst the storm. Her fingers moved again, shakily signing one last message before exhaustion pulled her under: Thank you.

Cassian tightened his hold, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Always,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with a fierce, unyielding promise.

One evening, as they sat on the balcony overlooking Velaris, Y/N signed to Cassian, Why do you do all this for me? You don’t even know me that well.

Cassian smiled, his expression soft but firm. He signed back, Because you deserve to live. To laugh, to dream, to be free of this pain. And because you’ve already shown me how strong you are.

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, blinking back tears.

Fourth months had passed.

Y/N lay in her bed, her skin sweating and her breathing shallow. The curse had taken almost everything from her now—her strength, her laughter, even the small moments of peace she used to find in music or her notepad.

Cassian sat at her side, his large hands cradling her frail one. His thumb brushed over her knuckles as if he could keep her tethered to life through sheer will alone. Around them, the rest of the Inner Circle moved with frantic determination. Healers came and went, their faces grim, their efforts fruitless.

Rhys stood by the window, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. Feyre sat beside him, her hand resting on his arm as silent tears streamed down her face. Amren, Nesta, Elain, and Mor lingered nearby, each offering words of comfort or soft reassurances, though they all knew the truth: they were running out of time.

Cassian couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N. Just two months ago, she had been vibrant, defiant even, as she poured her soul into music on that stage. Now, she was a shadow of herself, her once-bright eyes dulled by exhaustion and pain.

"She doesn't deserve this," Cassian muttered, his voice raw as he stared at her fragile form. "Not after everything she’s been through. Not after everything she’s given."

Rhys turned, his violet eyes heavy with sorrow. “We’ve found something,” he said quietly. “But it’s…complicated.”

Cassian’s head snapped up, hope and fear warring in his expression. “What do you mean?”

Feyre stepped forward, holding a worn piece of parchment. “We got this sent to us by Helion only an hour ago, me and Rhys were contemplating if we should reveal it or not but....the curse can be broken, but it will cost her… everything. All her memories. Her connection to us. To you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“She’ll live and have her voice back,” Feyre continued, her voice trembling. “But she won’t remember any of it—any of us. It’ll be as if none of this ever happened.”

Cassian’s heart plummeted. The thought of Y/N forgetting him, forgetting the bond they had formed, the trust she had placed in him—it felt like a dagger to his chest. He turned to look at her, only to find her watching him with tears in her eyes.

She reached for her notepad with trembling fingers, but the strength to write eluded her. Instead, she signed weakly: No. I don’t want it. I’d rather die… with the memories of you all. Of you, Cassian.

Cassian’s throat tightened as he shook his head, tears blurring his vision. “Don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this. There’s still time.”

She smiled faintly, a fragile, heartbreaking thing. Thank you for all the kindness, she signed slowly. For giving me a glimpse of what life could be like. I never thought I could know true happiness after fifty years under Amarantha’s reign. But you… all of you… showed me otherwise.

Her gaze softened as it settled on Cassian, her fingers signing once more: You showed me love.

Cassian’s chest heaved with silent sobs as he grasped her hand, pressing it to his forehead. “No. Don’t do this, Y/N. Please. Don’t leave me.”

Y/N cupped his cheek with her other hand, her touch featherlight. Her lips moved, forming silent words he couldn’t hear but understood all the same. Thank you for everything.

He broke then, his tears falling freely. “I can’t let you go,” he whispered. “I won’t.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, her strength fading fast. The room blurred around Cassian as he made his decision.

“Forgive me, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice trembling. Then, with shaking hands, he activated the spell, pouring everything into saving her.

The magic surged, golden light enveloping her frail body as her memories began to unravel. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, confusion and betrayal flooding them as she looked at him one last time.

Her lips moved soundlessly, forming the question: Why?

Cassian choked back a sob as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Because I couldn’t lose you,” he whispered.

He pressed his trembling hands over Y/N’s chest, activating the ancient spell with the force of every ounce of his heart. The room filled with a brilliant, blinding light as magic surged through the air.

Y/N’s body jerked beneath his hands, her face contorting with pain as the curse began to unwind. The energy flowed around her like a storm, unraveling the threads of her torment—yet with each passing moment, something else began to shift. Her memories—those precious fragments of time they had shared—began to fade, slowly, one by one.

The Inner Circle stood at a distance, their faces stricken with grief as they watched. Rhys, Feyre, and the others could do nothing but wait.

Cassian’s heart pounded in his chest as he leaned over Y/N, his hands desperate to hold on. But as the light dimmed, he saw the subtle change in her expression. Her eyes—those bright, compassionate eyes that had once held so much for him—began to dull.

Y/N’s hand slowly slid from his, her fingers uncurling like a wilting flower. Her eyes fluttered closed as the magic worked deeper, erasing all traces of what had been. Every shared moment, every laugh, every whisper between them vanished, slipping through his fingers like sand.

Cassian felt the bond—their bond—dissolving, piece by piece, until nothing remained. His chest tightened, each heartbeat a painful reminder of what he was losing. She wasn’t gone… yet. But she might as well have been.

The spell continued its work, erasing Y/N’s memories, her connection to him, the love and connection they were slowly but surely building together. The warmth of their bond faded into nothingness, until all that was left was a hollow silence between them.

Cassian held her limp hand, his tears falling freely as the truth settled within him: He had saved her life, but in doing so, he had lost her. The Y/N who had laughed and loved and held him close was gone. In her place was someone who would never remember the bond they shared.

He could feel her slipping away from him, the last remnants of her fading.

And with that, her memories were gone.

Her bond with Cassian disappeared permanently as her memories of him were wiped away, leaving only the emptiness of a connection that would never be made again.

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#acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian angst #acotar angst #batboys #acotar fics #acotar fluff #cassian fluff

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metalmewtwo-kxb · 5 months ago

Text

Pokédex Update:

Auroreon - the Iridescent Feather pokemon. A flying type. When it fans its wings and tail, it can manifest beautiful yet powerful beams of light in concentrated attacks and healing moves. If it ever opens its eyes, it will unleash its wrath on the unjust.

Notes:

- Auroreon's feathers always seem to glimmer in the light, causing even its body to give off a faint prismatic glow. They are also sturdy, soft as cinccino velvet, and capable of keeping sheltered pokemon warm. If the weather and conditions are right, Auroreon will spread its feathers over the grass and sunbathe (or moonbathe at night). This makes the moisture in the air above it become a captivating blanket of shifting colors. The shiny variation of this pokemon is said to also manifest colors of light that very few humans are able to see.

- The 'eye spots' on Auroreon's feathers serve as a natural statement of beauty as well as a means of confusing opponents. And the halo above its head is a result of the fur's natural light refraction.

From Recovered Texts and Documents:

- Long ago, a king encouraged the use of these feathers for decorative purposes during his reign. This greatly decimated the population of both eevee and Auroreon in their region. Those with dark feathers were considered "impure" and hunted for sport. A few were kept as pets and servants, which was illegal save for those with the king's written permission.

- Some groups of the past believed Auroreon to be among the pokemon known as "the Heralds of Arceus", messengers and light-bearers who served the Creator of Worlds. There were a variety of pokemon believed to hold this title, each described as "familiar yet unique" to each respective species. They were more powerful than their counterparts, and some rarely spotted if not considered an illusion. They were also quite gentle and well-mannered, and their roles involved giving life and healing to the world. However, these pokemon were considered dangerous in times of conflict.

- It is said "the false king" of their home region was single-handedly responsible for the disappearance of the Heralds, the beginning of conflict between humans and Arceus, and the terrible aftermath of the last great war. Rumors spread that Arceus removed the Heralds from the world of humans to save those pokemon from the cruelty that would follow in coming years.

Notes Continued:

- Further research is being conducted, as a single pair of Auroreon were recently spotted in an isolated area with an unusual eevee. One white, and one dark. The gender of each is unknown, though ancient texts suggest that females have shorter capes than males.

- There is no documentation of what their open eyes look like. Texts only say that no one who saw them directly lived to tell the tale, including the false king.

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Decided to take my own stab at creating a flying type eeveelution, and potentially add a second typing later on.

I'm really happy with how it turned out, and glad I had another chance to delve into more of the comic's background lore.

#;pokedex #pokemon #eeveelution #eevee #Auroreon #fakemon #flying type #pokedex

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fairy-writes · 3 months ago

Text

SIREN SONG

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Siren!Reader, Kind of a Pirate AU? I reference the Trojan War if that helps define this

Notes: EPIC: THE MUSICAL HAS ME BY THE THROAT THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING

(Also, this is based on the Greek mythological sirens, not mermaids)

I decided to cut this off where I did and hope to do a part two in the future. Lmk if you guys want to see a second part!

JUST IN TIME FOR HOSHINA’S B-DAY, LET’S GOOOO

PART TWO: BIRD IN FLIGHT

__________________________________________________________________________

He found you in the water.

At first, Soshiro thought you were a clump of seaweed. But then he noticed that it was a person floating in the water, not plants. And that there were feathers sprouting from your back before realizing just what was going on.

You were a siren.

So he did the only logical thing in his mind.

And brought you aboard.

It took three days for you to wake up.

You were kept down in the brig behind iron bars. Your hands were bound with cast iron shackles, though Soshiro had a sneaking suspicion that you were too weak to do anything. He could see your ribs through the baggy and loose dress you wore about your person. Your hands, though scaly and bird-like, were thin and bony.

Captain Ashiro stationed Soshiro to watch you, seeing as he found you in the first place and brought you aboard without consulting her. But Soshiro didn’t mind. It just gave him a chance to catch up on reading.

At least… Until you opened your eyes.

Soshiro is roused from his reading stupor by an ungodly screech and clang. He jolts, looking up from his book to see you clinging to the bars, your pretty face twisted in a surprisingly ugly snarl. Your scaly hands tug ferociously at the hardened iron, your chains rattling against the bars.

He just smiles,

“So you’re awake then? That’s good. How are you feeling?” He says conversationally, and your snarl twists. You open your mouth and let out a screech that rattled his eardrums and made him flinch involuntarily.

Damn, you had some pipes.

But that doesn’t deter him from attempting to talk to you again.

“Can you understand me? Do you speak our language?” That just earned him another screech. In fact, any attempt at speaking to you had you caterwauling in such a way he was sure those on deck could hear him.

It was then that Captain Ashiro came downstairs, hands over her ears.

“What is that infernal—Oh…” She trailed off when she spotted you, and you let out another godforsaken wail. Your clawed hands rattle the bars of your cage, but it does little good. You haven’t eaten in three days, had no water in just as long, and were weak to begin with.

Soshiro didn’t get to give you more than a once-over, but he knew that you were injured. Burns disintegrated the feathers along your back. You had deep gouges that were half-healed and sick with infection. Scars crisscrossed your throat.

Almost as if someone had tried to rip it out.

It took an additional three days before things changed.

In that time, Soshiro spent most of it down in the brig, talking to you. You still wouldn’t let him touch you without restraints, so he enlisted two crew members, Hibino Kafka, and Kaguragi Aoi, to help hold you in place.

Because he very well couldn’t help you by himself with you trying to bite his fingers off.

It took some convincing to get Kafka and Aoi to step inside the brig to help you. But it helped that Captain Ashiro was just as interested in you as he was. So an order it became, and they nervously stepped behind the iron bars. Soshiro almost felt bad to see you crouched in the corner, teeth bared, and wings spread as far as the injuries would let them.

However, it was almost stupidly easy to get ahold of you. You couldn’t fly—there wasn’t enough room, and there were also your injuries to account for—and you couldn’t muscle your way past the two biggest members of the crew. So you were quickly detained, and he set to work attempting to help you.

Keyword being attempted.

Because you kept snapping at anyone who came close. And while you didn’t have a beak like a bird, you did have wickedly sharp teeth that would likely cause all sorts of infections if they broke the skin.

Eventually, after about an hour of trying to get close, he thought of something.

“Captain? Could you do me a favor and retrieve some food from the cook?” He asked as he crouched before you. The two men holding your taloned hands and pinned your wings shifted uncomfortably. “Uhh… Quartermaster Hoshina? Why are we feeding the… siren?” Hibino Kafka asked, clearly unsure about this plan. He whispered the last word, “siren,” as if he wasn’t sure he was even allowed to speak the word aloud.

Soshiro shrugged,

“We don’t want a dead siren on the boat. It’s best to keep her alive until we find out what to do with her.” He said. Aoi didn’t say anything, but Soshiro could tell he was uncomfortable. Kafka swallowed hard as he looked back to where you were snarling up at him from your place, pinned on the floor.

For someone so large, he sure was a scaredy cat.

It was then that Captain Ashiro returned with a bowl of what looked like porridge. Were they really that low on food? Well… They had just spent the last ten years fighting in the Trojan War… It made sense that they were at least a little low on food.

“The cook wasn’t able to make much. But I hope this will work.” Captain Ashiro said, and Soshiro just hummed as he took the bowl and entered the prison cell.

“Let her up. Just don’t let her do anything.” He ordered, and the two men holding your arms did so slowly. They kept your arms twisted behind you, your wings pinned to your back with their free hands.

You thrashed and flailed as best you could, snapping at anything that came close with those wickedly sharp teeth of yours. But Soshiro could see you panting and heaving, and your skin had a sickly sweat on it. An idiot could tell you weren’t feeling too hot.

So, Soshiro crouched down to your eye level and held out the spoon with a heaping spoonful of the porridge. He could see the wheels turning in your head.

Should you take the food?

Should you try and attack?

He could hear your stomach rumbling and offered a friendly smile.

“It’s all yours.” He says, and you freeze, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

So you could understand him.

However, he didn’t make a big deal of it and instead hovered the spoon closer to your mouth. He could practically see you salivating and pushed the spoon until it was almost touching your lips.

That was the final straw, and you opened your mouth, not even blowing on the food before devouring the spoonful. You must’ve been starving. Soshiro quickly offered another spoonful, and it was the same as before. You all but inhaled the food, and before he knew it, the bowl was empty.

You sighed almost dreamily at what must’ve been a full belly and sagged forward against Kafka and Aoi’s grip. Captain Ashiro handed Soshiro a waterskin, and he poured some—not too much, though—into your waiting mouth. You swallowed the water greedily and gasped for air as soon as the waterskin was empty.

“I brought some herbs to treat her wounds.” Captain Ashiro said, and immediately, you stiffened.

Why?

Soshiro took the herbs and poultices from his captain and scooted closer.

“I’m going to clean your injuries. Is that okay?” He asked, and it was just like before. You opened your maw and let out an ear-splitting screech. Spittle splattered his face, but he wasn’t phased. It wasn’t like you could do anything.

Instead, he sighed and stood up.

“Let’s deal with her wounds later. We don’t want to stress her out too much.” He said brightly, and Kafka and Aoi were more than happy to let you go and scramble from the cell. Soshiro couldn’t get closer after that. So, he left you alone.

The clang of the cell door was deafening.

The next day, Soshiro went down to the cell and found you collapsed on the floor, still as a corpse. He wasn’t even sure if you were breathing.

Were you dead?

Soshiro couldn’t get the cell door open fast enough, key fumbling in his hand as he tried to fit it into the damn lock.

Only to realize that was his mistake.

The second the cell door was open, you were on him, snarling and snapping as you tried to claw his eyes out. His hands were on your forearms, leaning his head to the side to avoid your snapping jaws.

The two of you wrestled—you were surprisingly strong for being starving—and thrashed and fought until he managed to come out on top. Your wings were bunched awkwardly beneath you, your face twisted in anger and pain and agony as he heard the delicate bones in your wings crunch and break.

That caused him to get off, albeit a bit slowly. Shallow scratches littered his arms, but he was much more concerned about the state of your wings.

“Now, now,” He soothed, holding his hands up, but you were all but gone by then. Scrambling up the stairs and onto the ship’s deck. Crew members scattered and shrieked as you stretched your broken wings and lashed out with your splintered taloned fingers.

“Don’t hurt her!” Soshiro bellowed as he reached the top of the stairs, taking in your appearance. The scabs of your infected burns and gashes had cracked along your back. Blood and pus oozed down your back and sides, soaking your linen dress.

Crew members had drawn their swords and surrounded you. Captain Ashiro cried out for them to drop their weapons, and slowly, hesitantly, they did so. You were trying in vain to fly away, but your wings could no longer carry your weight.

He had hurt you. Possibly permanently.

Would you ever fly again?

And that thought that he had maimed such a beautiful creature cracked his chest wide open, baring his heart for the world to see.

You were eventually wrestled back into the brig in the belly of the ship. The ship’s doctor had managed to splint your wings and clean your wounds while Kafka and Aoi held you down again.

All the while, Soshiro stayed in his quarters, pacing back and forth, feeling annoyed with himself. He should’ve known your wings would break so easily! He should’ve known that you would try and escape. Anyone with a brain would’ve tried to escape that awful prison cell.

A rap on his door roused him from his trance, and he paused in his pacing.

“Come in.” He called, and Captain Ashiro entered the room. She looked exhausted.

“She’s asleep right now. The medic gave her a dose of sleeping herbs to help her rest. He isn’t sure she’ll ever fly again, though.” She said solemnly, and he pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t say anything.

Captain Ashiro sighed,

“Why did you bring her aboard?” She eventually asked, exasperated. Soshiro shrugged,

“We are set to sail through the land of sirens. I thought she could be used to barter safe passage.” He said quietly, and Captain Ashiro’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s… Actually, a good idea.” She said though wariness colored her voice. Soshiro shrugged,

“I have good ideas sometimes. However, it’ll involve gaining the siren’s trust.” He said, and she deflated before an idea struck her.

“I’ll let that job fall to you.” She said, and he opened his mouth to protest before she held up a hand, “You brought her aboard. She’s your problem now.” She said before leaving before he could say anything else.

Soshiro went down to the brig where you were kept.

You watched him with untrusting eyes, and he sat across from your cell.

Gaining your trust…

How hard could it be?

#hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro x you #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina x you #hoshina x reader #hoshina x you #kn8 x reader #kn8 x you #kn8 x y/n #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x you #fairy writes

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readychilledwine · 1 year ago

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Azriel Masterlist

Azriel x Lyria Vanserra

After a mission leaves Az sore, Madja and Rhys suggest he sees Lyria, a healer who specializes in massage therapy

Bound By Fate Series Masterlist

When Kaylee Archeron meets Azriel, her world turns upside down. Between balancing her trauma, new powers, a mating bond, and war looming over her new home, Kaylee learns that everything is not as little as it once seemed.

Beauty in Pain - Request - A failed mission leads to our reader losing her wings (Azriel x Illyrian Reader)

Pt 2

Surprises ** - Azriel has wanted to touch his high lady for a long time (Azriel x Tamlin's Sister OC x Rhysand)

Part 2

Devotion - Request - Based on the quote prompt "I can hold the world in my two hands" (Azriel x Reader)

Replacement - Based *loosely* on a Request - After Azriel's son calls his mate, "mommy", reader is out in a situation where all three of them are healing from trauma

Losing Forever - Request - After his mate heads home to care for her sick father and brother, Azriel is faced with the consequences.

Whispers in The Dark ** - Request - Azriel is ever the opportunist when it comes to using a recently discovered fetish against you.

Cat and Mouse

Request - After reports of Illyrian males torturing females and children hit Rhysand's desk, he, Cassian, and Azriel bring you to the camps for the first time in search of answers.

Lollipop ** After being silenced during the High Lord's meeting with her favorite candy. Seraphina finds herself the center of a certain shadowsingers attention

Part 2 **

For Science ** Request - Azriel and Eris finally agree on one thing, your bratty behavior can't continue to go unpunished

Small World Mini Series

20 years away from the Inner Circle was exactly what Azriel needed to heal. It was exactly what he needed to bring him to you, but the world has a funny way of bringing everything full circle.

The Breakfast Club - After missing breakfast unexpectedly, a hidden relationship is revealed to Azriel's family, who can't tell if they're more surprised by you or his cat.

Oath - Y/n was taken in by Feyre as a small child, and now lives with her in the Night Court, but her favorite person is and will always be Azriel

When I'm Gone - You always had the perfect answer, even when you weren't there to give it anymore

Odd One Out - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.

Part 1

Part 2

AZRIEL WEEK -2023

Infatuation - requested - After Nyx thinks he's met his mate, Azriel comes along to ruin his plans (Azriel x teacher!Reader)

Like A Boy - After putting up with Azriel's behavior for far too long, you begin to match his energy

Lose You to Love Me **- You had wanted him for years, loved him for centuries, and waited for him to notice you and see you. But all books have to close, even if we don't like the ending.

Pt 2

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel x you

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justsomerandomfanfic · 11 months ago

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Flower Crowns - Dwalin X Female (Baggins) Reader

Title: Flower Crowns

Dwalin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: The Company, Ori, Kili, Fili, Thorin, Bofur, Balin, Oin (Mentioned), Bomber (Mentioned), Gandalf (Mentioned), Bilbo, Bard (Mentioned), Bard's kids (Mentioned), Alfrid (Mentioned), and the Mirkwood Elves (including Legolas and Tauriel (Mentioned))

Requested By: Anon!

WC: 5,252

Warnings: The Hobbit canon violence/weapons/death/etc, Reader is Bilbo's sister, misunderstandings, broody Dwalin, blood, injuries, nicknames, crying (brief), orcs, death, Ones, giant spiders, movie reference to a different movie (bonus points for those who get it), yelling, angst, and fluff

Trudging up the path with a woven basket of homemade muffins, you made your way up to Bilbo's home. You were a bit late. You were supposed to be at Bilbo's over an hour ago, but you had misjudged when you'd finish your muffins. And you knew how much Bilbo loved your muffins, so you were sure he wouldn't be too annoyed by your tardiness after eating a muffin or two.

Stopping at the door, you let out a small huff before knocking on the round door... Only to receive no answer. You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows before just entering. Pushing the door closed behind you, you heard voices from somewhere else in the Hobbit hole, confusing you even more. Had Bilbo invited others to dinner?

"Bilbo?" You called out, beginning to wander over towards the voices that quickly stopped after you spoke.

But before you could say anything more, Bilbo popped out into the hallway, rushing over to you. "Y/N, I believe we'll have to reschedule dinner." He spoke, rushed as he tried turning you around.

Your frown deepened as you twisted around in his hold, your eyes staring at the circular entrance of the dining room, "What do you mean? Who have you invited over?" Your curiosity was peaked now, and you wanted answers.

"Nothing! No one! Lovely seeing you!" Bilbo exclaimed, pushing you backward towards the door, ready to get you out. But before he could, you ducked out of his arms and sped towards the dining room.

You skidded to a halt at the entrance, eyes widening as your jaw dropped slightly. Bilbo sighed, rubbing his face with both of his hands before walking over and standing beside you. Eyes glued to the surprise visitors, you leaned over to Bilbo slightly; eyes unmoving from the surprise guests, "Bilbo... Why do you have thirteen Dwarves and a wizard in your dining room?"

~~~

And that was how you got roped into traveling alongside Bilbo, Gandalf, and the rest of the Company. Gandalf somehow convinced Thorin that having a second Hobbit would benefit the Company. And, unlike your brother, you wanted to go with them. You had read so many books about adventure and heard so many stories... You wanted to get out into the world and go on adventures that you had read in those books.

During the first few days of the journey to The Lonely Mountain, you became friends with most, if not all, of the Company. Kili and FIli, for example - the two youngest members of the Company - took you under their wing. When Thorin allowed the Company to rest, they would teach you how to defend yourself. Most lessons usually turned into fooling around most of the time, despite Thorin's grumblings. Fili and Kili were fun people to be around. They never failed to make you laugh, which was welcomed when having to face orcs and goblins almost daily.

Balin was like a father figure to you, always giving worldly and wise advice. Bomber often let you help in the making of breakfast and dinner. Ori, the sweetest of the bunch, would tell you stories, which you eagerly accepted to listen to every time. It gave you something to look forward to. And Oin, when free to do so, would teach you the basics of healing; showing you what herbs and plants worked best for certain ailments, which ones should be avoided, and so on.

You enjoyed each member of the Company's presence, but Thorin and Dwalin were the only two who hardly spoke a word to you. You weren't sure whether it was because they believed you didn't belong in the company, or because they were just not talkers. You hoped it was the latter.

But between the two, you really liked Dwalin. You liked his gruff demeanor - the brooding look on his face - and in addition, you really found him attractive. His muscular build, strong arm muscles, and dark hair; not to mention the tattoos on his arms - you wondered what their stories were. It surprised you, in the beginning, when you finally let the realization sink in. Even Bilbo, the only one that you had told about this attraction - you didn't fully trust Kili and Fili with the information - Bilbo was shocked, to say the least.

~~~

Walking with Kili and Fili, you snatched up bundles of flowers as you went, weaving and braiding them together into a crown. You had already made one for yourself, and Fili and Kili were quite invested in your creative, colorful craft.

"Where did you learn to create such things?" Fili asked as he watched you bend down, snatching up another flower from the grassy ground.

You shrugged, tying off another flower, "In Hobbiton, of course, Fili, dear," You began, fixing some of the flowers before continuing, "In originality, my mother taught me." You finished, weaving another flower into the crown.

"How does one make such intricate designs?" Kili then asked, twisting the stem of a flower between his fingers in thought.

You smiled back at him, "Well, it is quite simple, Kili, dear," You began, "You just have to braid the stems of the flowers together. Simple really." You answered, spying on Dwalin near the front of the line - just behind Thorin, you glanced over at the two Princes' beside you, "I'll be just a moment." You spoke before jogging over.

Your smile widened as you matched Dwalin's pace once by his side. Looking over and up at him, he didn't acknowledge your presence. It never bothered you, him ignoring you... You understood that Dwalin was not the type of person to just chit-chat, especially when there were bigger things to do and worry about. Lonely Mountain speaking.

Finishing the flower crown in your hands, you offered it up to the Dwarf, a bright smile on your face. "I made this for you." You explained softly, the flower crown - made of yellow, white, and red wildflowers - sitting in your hands.

Dwaling stopped, and so did the rest of the Company. You suddenly felt a wave of anxiety wash over you - all eyes on the two of you - watching as Dwalin slowly turned his head to look down at you, to the crown, and back. And for a moment, you thought that you saw something flash in his eyes, something that wasn’t brooding, determined, or angry. You swallowed, finding yourself unable to take your eyes off his, your ears and cheeks burning as he grumbled and huffed through his nose. You were confused, your hope and happiness dwindling - your hands lowering slowly - as Dwalin turned and continued walking.

Fully dropping your hands to your sides, you watched him go; feeling completely rejected. You knew that it was stupid. It was just a flower crown... And yet, you still held onto it with all of your heart, clutching it tightly in your hand; unintentionally crushing the flowers beneath your fingers. What did you do wrong? You just wanted him to like you... Tears stung in your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of everyone.

The rest of the Company soon passed you, some giving you sympathetic smiles, some patting you on your shoulder or back. Fili and Kili stopped beside you, Kili frowning softly, as Fili gave you a pat on the top of your head; careful not to disturb the flower crown on your head.

"Don't worry, Miss Y/N," Fili spoke, "He'll come around."

Kili nodded, "I assure you, he will." He let out a small chuckle, but you knew he wasn’t laughing at you. That was just him.

You nodded, doubting, but saying nothing more as they turned and followed the group; Bilbo finally coming over. "I'm alright." You muttered, looking up at him. You knew that he was going to ask you if you were alright.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..."

You shook your head, "No, it's okay." You whispered softly, trying to give him the best smile you could give him to ease his worries, "I don't know why I am so caught up in this... I must understand that I'm not really everyone's cup of tea. Not everyone wants to be my friend. If he doesn't want to be friends with me... Then, that's alright." You explained softly. Bilbo stared at you for a long moment before you began walking, dropping the flower crown to the ground.

~~~

The night was cold, the stars shining brightly down from the sky as you huddled close to Bilbo; next to the fire. It was hard to sleep, still not fully used to sleeping on the woodland ground, but you were getting there. And, soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

Dwalin, on the other hand, having the first night watch, stared into the fire before him. It was quiet, aside from the fire crackling and the crickets chirping. Dwalin seemed to be lost inside his own mind, his eyebrows furrowed, and dark eyes narrowed in thought. Hearing a small grunt and feeling the log under him move slightly, Dwalin glanced over to see Balin sitting beside him. Balin hummed lowly, staring at the fire, rubbing the palms of his hands together.

"She didn't know, Dwalin." He spoke softly, not wanting to wake the others from their sleep, and only getting a deep mumble from his younger brother; at the mention of you, Dwalin's eyes flickered from the fire to your sleeping figure; curled up beside Bilbo. "She does not know of our courtship rituals. I should’ve told her more about our culture." Again, getting nothing from Dwalin, Balin continued, "She only wishes you to speak to her. You have hardly spoken a word to her since leaving Bilbo's home." He stared at his brother's side profile, "You can confide in me, brother."

Dwalin continued his silence, his eyes falling upon you once more. He was conflicted. Ever since he saw you enter the dining room of Bilbo's Hobbit hole, Dwalin had been unable to stop thinking about you. The way you moved and talked... Your features were sharp, yet delicate, your lips pouting, and your hair flowing. You were kind, bright, and soft; everything Dwalin wasn't. Dwalin was rough and tough. He had scars, he had seen death, and he had seen suffering. But, you... He had never seen someone as beautiful as you. You were different. Dwalin sighed deeply, looking away from you. He didn't know how to approach you; he couldn't bring himself to act on his feelings.

But he knew that you were his One.

He knew the moment he saw you.

Dwalin hated being vulnerable, and he hated admitting anything to anyone. So he sat, his jaw clenched tight, trying his hardest to fight his growing feelings for you.

"She's my One." Dwalin found himself muttering, far too quiet for most to hear, but Balin heard.

A knowing smile graced his oldened features. "I presumed so." Balin spoke with a hum, "I can only... Advise that you should speak to her. She cares for you. I am sure that she would understand." Balin stated, before letting out a small sigh, standing, "Think about it, will you?" And with that, Balin found his sleep sack, rolling into it and falling asleep.

Dwalin stayed awake much longer into the night, contemplating his decision as he waited for Gloin to take over the night watch. His older brother's words echoed throughout his head, and with a deep gruff, he let his eyes stray from the fire; the light making his eyes burn slightly. His eyes flickered from around the woods that surrounded him, to the Company before finding the stars and the moon in the sky, and finally... Back to you.

You, in your sleep, muttered something softly, unnoticeable. He watched as you rolled to your side, shivering, your hand pulling the fur blanket closer to you. Dwalin's eyes lingered on you, his mouth slightly agape before he snapped his gaze away. Feeling a wave of frustration towards himself, Dwalin's gaze landed on his sleep role.

~~~

The next morning, you woke up to a bright blue sky, filled with white, fluffy clouds. You let out a sigh, eyelids fluttering as you shifted slightly and let out a breath. You groaned lightly before freezing. Your fingers brushed against the fur blanket over you, feeling the coarseness of the material. It was warm. Very warm.

Your eyebrows furrowed; confused. You opened one eye, squinting at the bright sun that was peaking above the tree canopies. Slowly turning over onto your back, you sat up, looking down at the blanket... Or should you say... Blankets?

You stared down at the fur blanket, that was not your own, before flipping the fur up, spying your fur blanket underneath. This second fur blanket - which wasn't yours - was a deep brown color, with little bits of white. Who gave you this last night? Were you really that cold last night that one of the Dwarves had given you their blanket out of kindness or pity? You felt a sense of gratitude fill your chest. Looking down at the furry blanket, you couldn't help but let out a smile.

Looking up, you let your eyes survey the small camp, hopping from Dwarf to Dwarf until they settled on one. Dwalin. A wave of warmth passed over you, watching as he packed his sleep role away and into his pack. As Dwalin stood to leave, he glanced over at you, meeting your gaze for a brief moment; before quickly darting his eyes away, going over to Thorin.

You felt the corners of your lips twitch slightly, a frown threatening to form on your face as you looked at Dwalin's retreating back. Did he hate you? Did he find you annoying? All these questions ran through your head, but you only huffed, getting up from your sleep role. You were not going to let Dwalin's behavior towards you sour your mood. Today was a beautiful day, and you wanted to savor it.

~~~

You couldn't see, and all you could feel was the feeling of falling. You felt as if you were wrapped in something. It was tight around you, almost suffocating. Anxiety washed over you, gripping your heart painfully as your lungs begged for air. But you could hardly breathe. You needed to breathe, but you were trapped. You clawed at the sticky white substance that surrounded you, trying to rip it and free yourself, but you were not strong enough. You felt like giving up, though you knew you couldn't, but as you clawed at the sticky film, you could finally hear what was going on outside of the cocoon. You could hear the Dwarves yelling, yelling about spiders.

Before you could do anything else, someone from the outside ripped open your cocoon. You blinked rapidly at the slight change of light, finding yourself back in the creepy woods. A large hand reached out to you and you quickly grabbed it, the person behind the strong hand pulling you up with force. Stumbling slightly, you felt slightly dazed, the hand still in yours as you found yourself in a giant spider fight.

As you stood amidst the chaotic scene of giant spiders attacking the Company, your heart raced with fear and adrenaline. Eyes unable to leave the giant spiders - tunnel-vision - you gripped the hand in yours; giving you slight reassurance. The air was filled with the sounds of battle - the clang of weapons, the hiss of the spiders, and the shouts of the Dwarves. You could feel the sticky strands of webbing brush against your skin as you dodged and weaved through the throng of arachnids. You felt gross and dirty; and for the first time since the start of this long journey to The Lonely Mountain, you missed your Hobbit home.

With each passing moment, the fight intensified, the odds seemingly stacked against you and the Company. Your wide eyes danced around you, trying to spot Bilbo, but you couldn't find him. You wanted to yell out, to shout, but as your mouth opened, no words came out. There was an odd buzzing noise in your ears, your heart was beating loudly in your chest; harsh against your ribcage. Only then, did you look at the person who held you so close to them. You thought it couldn't have been Kili or Fili, but you spotted the two Princes when you lifted your gaze. Looking down at the hand that held yours, you felt your racing heart freeze for just a moment; an auditable hitch escaped your throat, but you didn't dare utter a sound.

Standing in front of you and holding your hand tightly in his own was none other than Dwalin. You knew it was him. You knew those tattoos. Trailing up his muscular arm, you were finally met with the side of his face. His expression was hardened as he held his weapon tightly in his other hand. Aside from the anxiety and nervousness that had overcome you, you were incredibly impressed. Dwalin, with one hand, fought off giant spiders, whilst also keeping you perfectly safe.

At the sound of something coming from up in the trees, you looked up, watching as no more than two dozen elves jumped to the ground, taking out the last of the large, monstrous spiders from around you. One of the Elves spoke to another, you noted her red hair as they spoke in Elvish. You wished that you could understand them. Your awe of them quickly diminished when they drew their weapons, arrows drawn and at the ready; circling around you and the Company. Soon, they demanded your weapons, and before you knew it, all the Dwarves were weaponless.

"What about her?" One Elven guard asked in a demanding tone. Your eyes lifted up, finding the guard staring down at you. "Hand whatever you have over instantly." He demanded, holding out his hand, only for Dwalin's hand in yours to tighten slightly, gently pushing you behind him.

"She bears no weapons, Elf." He spoke in his deep, gruff, disgruntled voice. The Elf stared down at Dwalin for a moment before staring right back down at you, with a sniff and a small 'humph' he turned away.

The blonde Elf, the one that you believed to be in charge of the whole group, yelled out something in Elvish, and before you knew it, you and your Dwarven friends were being pushed along, being led to hopefully, not your doom. Passing Thorin, you looked at him with pleading eyes, "Thorin, where's Bilbo?" Only for your answer to be unanswered.

Your hand never left Dwalin's, your free, unoccupied hand found his arm; the skin upon skin contact grounded you, allowing you to calm yourself ever so slightly. You finally took a chance to look around, finding the forest opening, revealing a stone bridge. Pillars, beautifully carved, gave way to the entrance of Mirkwood, the Elven Kingdom. You wished you had the time to admire the architecture of the kingdom, but, sadly, you did not. Before you knew it you were being tossed into a cell.

A hand fell upon your shoulder, pulling you to the side, your hands falling from Dwalin's. "Dwalin!" You called out, trying to reach for him, but you were soon shoved into a cell. Stumbling over your feet, you braced yourself on the rock interior of the cell. Hearing the heavy cell door close behind you, you snapped your head up; feeling exhausted, mentally and physically, but you pushed yourself forward. Your hands curled around the bars, trying to look at the cells beside yours. The sound of the now-captured Dwarves - yelling and complaining.

"Miss Y/N!" Fili yelled out, only a few cells away from yours, "Are you alright!?"

"I'm fine!" You called back, "Is everyone else alright?"

Most, if not all, of the Dwarves, replied with various 'ayes’. You sighed in relief, closing your eyes; the chill of the cell door refreshing on your forehead.

Sitting on the floor - you felt the hours pass you by slowly - you pressed the back of your head against the wall; tired. "I wager the sun is on the rise. Must be nearly dawn." Bofur called out, his voice echoing throughout. Your eyes fluttered open, a yawn leaving your parched mouth.

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?" Ori asked, sounding resigned, making you sigh.

"Don't fret, Ori, dearest." You spoke up, sounding a bit resigned yourself, but you were determined to keep everyone's spirits high. "We'll make it." You continued, looking out of your cell door, "We will." With that said, you stood up from the ground, wincing as pain shot through your legs. Looking down, you noticed a rip in your trousers that you replaced your usual dress with. Pushing the ripped fabric to the side, you then noticed a red substance that trailed down your leg; coming from a small scratch on your calf. "Well," You spoke up, clearing your throat. "I may have been slightly injured."

Simultaneously, the Dwarves began to talk. Their voices became louder, some with more worry and concern. "Miss Y/N, you are injured!?" You heard Fili call from his cell.

"Yes, tis but a scratch." You explained, hoping the Dwarves would stop fussing over you. You weren't a damsel in distress. You were strong, even with a bloody scratch. "But worry not, dearest Dwarves, it's nothing I can't handle."

"You won't have to handle it for long." You heard, eyes widening - mimicking your bright smile - as Bilbo appeared at your cell door, holding the keys.

~~~

When you joined the Company on their journey, you did not expect that you'd trick goblins, climb bit trees, fly on eagles, fight giant spiders, and barrel ride down a raging river. This was certainly an adventure that you'd go through again, minus the goblins and giant spiders; you'd love to fly with the eagles again.

Somehow, you survived, floating down the raging river, your clothes all sopping wet, and river water dripping from your hair. As all of your barrels fell down a waterfall, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Behind you, you could hear the laughter of some of the dwarves. For a moment, you forgot about your injuries; and the exhaustion that was seeping into every fiber of your body. Your hands tightened your grip on the railing of the barrel, praying for it to not capsize or tip over, your fingers growing numb with cold. You tried desperately to ignore what was going on around you. Smelling the fresh air, and hearing the birds chirping above you, almost made you forget everything else.

But at the sound of a horn, you were quickly snapped out of your head, watching as the suited Elves began to shut the gate; the only way to escape. All joy, and a sense of freedom, flew right out of the window. You all collided with each other at the closed gate, you huffed, glaring up at the Elven guards before your eyes caught sight of an arrow flying through the air, and into one of the guards.

"Orcs!" You yelled out, gesturing up at the guards, as the one that was shot fell into the water below; almost hitting you. "Why does it always have to be orcs?"

You dodged the best you could when dead elves and dead orcs fell into the water, along with dodging arrows, and over-confidant orcs that tried to swing at your head.

You were about to call for Bilbo, but when you turned your head, you watched as your brother stabbed a sword into an orc, defending one of the dwarves.

"Miss Y/N!" Ori cried out, making you look over to him, only for him to point above you.

You looked up, your eyes widening at an orc - dead - began falling towards you. Unable to move, almost frozen in fear, you squeezed your eyes shut and shielded yourself with your arms, only for your barrel to be pushed back and out of the way. You opened your eyes, blinking them rapidly as the river water splashed in your face. Looking over, you just saw a glimpse of Dwalin turning back around. Despite the obvious danger that you were all in, you wondered what you could do for Dwalin since he had saved your life twice now.

Turning your eyes to the side, you watched as Kili ran up the side of the stone top of the gate, you covered your mouth as an arrow flew through the air and hit him in the leg. Fili cried out of this younger brother, as Kili then opened the gate, and fell into an empty barrel.

Falling down, yet another waterfall, smaller than the last, you pushed your wet hair from your face, only to grip the barrel with as much force as you could; the raging, white-foaming waters continued. Looking to your side slightly, you watched as Bilbo held onto a barrel, holding onto the sideway barrel, his own death-like grip. You felt a small bit of relief, seeing him safe. You, and the Company, continued down the river, and the longer you tried not to tip over and drown, the more you wished that you weren't in the freezing waters.

Finally, the raging stopped, and the river was calm. Leaning over slightly in the barrel, you brushed your hands in the freezing water, moving your barrel forward slowly, but carefully.

"Make for the shore!" Thorin yelled out, receiving some 'ayes' in return.

Pushing your barrel forward, you pressed your cheek against the rim of the barrel, your eyes drooping slightly as you continued to push yourself toward the shore. Your barrel soon hit the rocks, and you used the rest of your strength to get out of it, climbing up onto the rocks; completely soaked. You trudged up the rocks, wrapping your arms around yourself as you mentally counted those around you, counting fourteen. Mentally, you could rest.

Feeling a hand on your upper arm, you looked to the side, seeing your brother Bilbo. Just his presence made you give him a small smile, seeing the worry in his eyes. "I'm alright." You spoke to him, wanting to reassure him, "I'm just cold."

At the surprise of meeting Bard, the human, you sort of let your brain shut off. You felt your feet move as you followed the Dwarves to Bard's boat. You felt yourself sitting down in the corner next to Bilbo, and hiding from Alfrid, but you were far from the present. You were so tired, mentally and physically, that you let your mind quiet, letting yourself only fade back into the world you knew once you felt the warm fire at your feet.

"Wee lass hasn't spoken since the Elves." You heard a hushed voice, it was Bofur.

You pressed your legs closer to yourself, staring into the flames. The clothing you were given, having been one of Bard's daughters, was warm; the fabric soft - your fingers toyed with the soft material.

"Is she alright?" Ori asked worriedly, only for Bilbo to nod, crossing his arms.

"She's alright. She had told me so." Thorin only gave you a short glance before turning back to Bard.

Dwalin, with his arms crossed, turned to look at you, staring at your side profile. Glancing over at the table that Bilbo sat at, Dwalin said nothing, walking over to the table and grabbing a plate. Bilbo, in turn, watched as Dwalin filled the plate with a few potatoes, two small tomatoes, and a small slice of bread.

Your eyes picked up the sound of heavy footfalls coming towards you, and at the sight of a plate coming into your field of vision, you moved your head to look up. As you looked at Dwalin, his face stoic as usual, you couldn't help but smile. Taking the plate, your fingers briefly brushed against his.

"Thank you, Dwalin." You spoke softly, but before he could slink away, you grabbed his hand, stopping him. For a moment, you thought back to when he held your hand so tightly - protectively - in the Mirkwood forests. "Thank you for saving me. Twice." You smiled at him softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "And I apologize if I had anything to upset you, or make you uncomfortable." He glanced over at you, then down at your hand which was wrapped around his. He didn't remove his hand from yours, giving you the same squeeze that you had received from him earlier today.

Dwalin stared at your hand in his, his jaw clenching before he looked back to you, his eyes softening. "You did not, dorzada." He spoke gruffly, “Eat.” He finished before leaving your side, your hand dropping from his.

You looked down at your plate of food, your stomach grumbling and spinning, as your mind wandered. Picking up the slice of bread, you bit down on it, thinking about the word that Dwalin called you. You wondered what it meant.

~~~

"Oin, stay with Kili." Thorin commanded as the rest of the Dwarves began to gather their things. Without being told, Fili stayed by his brother's side.

"I want to come too." You spoke, grabbing a random weapon from the wooden table.

Dwalin quickly turned, staring down at you, "It will be too dangerous for you, lass."

You huffed, lightly glaring up at the Dwarf, "I have fought trolls, orcs, what have you." You pointed out, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "I want to fight."

"This is against us Dwarves and the dragon." He grumbled, his hand taking a hold of the weapon in yours. "You'll die before the beast does."

"I'm already dying anyway," You shrugged, looking back down at your weapon, "From the moment we're born, we're dying. So, what is the point? I want to help."

Dwalin breathed out of his nose as he took hold of your other hand, "No, no, lass, you are staying here, with Kili, while the rest of us fight."

"Are you telling me, or are you commanding me, Dwalin?" You asked, voice becoming soft as his eyes bored into your own. "Do as you wish then," You sighed when receiving no answer, letting go of his hands, "But please, do not die."

Dwalin humphed, the corners of his lips just twisting up into a small grin, and for a moment, you were stunned. Dwalin was smiling. "Don't worry," He spoke. "I won't." His gaze softened, as he stepped back from you, "Be safe, lass." With that, he started to walk away, only for you to grab his arm and stop him. You didn't say anything else, merely pulling him close to you.

You felt him tense in your abrupt embrace before his one hand, not holding his weapon, circled you. But, it all ended too soon, as he pulled back from you, nodding to you before turning his attention to the group, as they set off to The Lonely Mountain.

Your shoulders sagged when the door closed, a small pout upon your lips, "Do not fret, Miss Y/N," Fili spoke from beside his brother as you turned to look over at the four Dwarves - Kili, Fili, Bofur, and Oin. "They will return."

You let out a sigh, looking out at the window. A fuzzy feeling rose within your chest, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. After watching them disappear into the distance, the sun went to sleep, "I know."

---

Main Masterlist | The Hobbit/LOTR Masterlist

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aventurineswife · 1 month ago

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pookie please write some more Sunday x f!reader stuff :33

“Let this moment be forever ours”

Summary: Sunday and you share a quiet evening together in a cozy home. Sunday, usually burdened with his deep thoughts and responsibilities, finds comfort in your presence, and you gently encourage him to embrace relaxation and peace. Over dinner, your bond deepens, and Sunday reveals his fears about deserving happiness and peace. The evening culminates in a tender, affectionate moment, where Sunday allows himself to feel the love and warmth of the moment.

Tags: Sunday x Female!Reader (can be read as GN!Reader too), Established Relationship, Fluff, Romance, Intimacy, Emotional Healing, Comfort, Slow Burn, Domestic Moments.

A/N: I GOTCHU POOKIEE!! 🤭💖🫣 HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!

Sunday sat quietly on the shared house balcony, his hair catching softly in the twilight hues. The setting sun's golden light reflected in his eyes, the color of his navy pupils creating an ethereal contrast. His halo hung serenely behind his head, spinning gently as he absently tapped his fingers against the edge of his tea cup. Gone were his usual formal clothes; instead, he wore a loose, light sweater in soft lavender and dark blue lounge pants. He looked more at ease, though the quiet depth in his gaze remained.

Inside, you moved around the small but cozy kitchen, humming softly as you prepared dinner. The smell of spices and fresh herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the faint creaks of the old house and the distant sounds of the world outside. You couldn't help but glance out the window every so often, your heart fluttering at the sight of Sunday bathed in the golden light. There was something captivating about the way he sat there, so serene yet unknowingly pensive.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” you called, poking your head out of the doorway to catch his attention.

Sunday turned toward you, his eyes softening as a faint smile graced his lips. “Do you need a hand?” he asked, his voice a gentle melody that matched the evening's calm.

You shook your head, grinning. “I’ve got it under control. You just enjoy the sunset for a bit longer.”

He laughed and stood, moving slowly as the hem of his sweater brushed against his hips with each step. “Relaxation is something I’m still trying to learn,” he said, resting against the counter. His ear-wings fluttered delicately as he watched you stir the pot on the stove. “But I suppose I can give it a try—for you.”

“You should,” you joked, looking up at him. “You’re always so serious. Don’t you think you’ve earned a break?”

Sunday tilted his head slightly, his halo shimmering faintly under the warm light. “Perhaps. Even in times such as this, though, my mind won’t rest. It’s... hard to mute the noise.”

You paused, letting the wooden spoon clatter to the side as you turned to him. “What’s on your mind now?” you asked softly, wiping your hands on a towel.

He hesitated, his eyes darting up toward the window where stars were beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky. “You,” he said in a low, honest voice. “And how moments like these feel so fragile. Like a dream I’m afraid to wake from.”

Your breath caught at his honesty, and warmth bloomed in your chest. “You don’t have to worry about waking up,” you said, moving closer. “This is real, Sunday. We’re real.”

His eyes met yours, their depths shimmering with unspoken emotions. “I want to believe that,” he murmured. “But sometimes I wonder if I deserve this kind of peace.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his sleeve. “You do,” you said firmly, “and I will remind you every day, whether you want me to or not.”

A soft laugh escaped him, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. “You’re persistent,” he said, a note of fondness in his tone. “I admire that about you.”

“Good,” you replied with a playful grin, tugging him toward the small dining table. “Now sit down, and let me spoil you with food.”

Sunday allowed himself to be led, his wings fluttering slightly as if in quiet amusement. As you set the table and served the meal, he watched you with quiet reverence. The simple domesticity of the scene—the clinking of dishes, the soft glow of the pendant lamp, and the warmth of your laughter—filled a space in his heart he hadn’t realized was so empty.

As you both sat down to eat, Sunday found himself smiling more freely. The food was delicious, but it was the company that nourished him more. You talked of little things: the peculiarities of the house, plans for tomorrow, and he listened intently, tempering his usual melancholy with the lightness of the moment.

Later, as you were standing together at the sink washing and drying dishes, he caught your wrist gently, stopping you mid-motion. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but full of emotion. “For this. For being here.”

You turned to him, your eyes scanning his face. “Always,” you said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. His halo flickered faintly, its golden light reflecting the warmth in his expression.

As the sun dipped toward dusk and you lay across the couch, Sunday tucked himself into the contours of your body. His wings curved over the sides to create a tight, delicate embrace, sheltering you within the world of the other side.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sunday let himself relax. It was a fragile but undeniable truth that he found in your arms, amidst the soft glow of the house and the faint whispers of the night—that this peace, this love—it was his to hold on to.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday #sunday hsr #fluff #established relationship #romance #intimacy #emotional healing #comfort #slow burn #domestic moments

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helvegen-s · 10 months ago

Text

Rage, rage | three

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language

They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.

She feels naked, unprotected.

She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.

Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.

What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.

Father is going to kill her.

Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.

Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.

The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.

For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.

She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...

She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."

Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.

The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...

"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."

She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.

She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.

Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.

With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:

"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?

Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?

No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?

She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.

She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?

"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"

"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”

She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.

Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.

Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."

She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.

When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."

Nimue trembles.

What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?

Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.

Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.

She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.

Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."

By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."

Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.

The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.

Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.

Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.

Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."

Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.

The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.

What is that?

Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.

Is he hallucinating?

Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?

Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.

"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"

Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...

Something is not right.

The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.

She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.

Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?

"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.

Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.

What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...

She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.

And then everything suddenly calms down.

They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.

And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.

There's something, something pulling her towards...

Towards him.

Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.

"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"

Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.

Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.

"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.

Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.

Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.

The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.

What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?

Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.

However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."

Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.

What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.

And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.

"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats

A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 🥰

#azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel fic

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merwgue · 4 months ago

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Sarah J. Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series, despite its claims of promoting feminism and female empowerment, contains an undercurrent that undermines its own narrative — particularly when it comes to addressing Rhysand’s sexual assault of Feyre. In A Court of Mist and Fury (ACOMAF), we see a scene that exemplifies this disturbing dynamic: under the mountain, Rhysand forces Feyre to kiss him while she is under his mind control, leaving her helpless and stripped of agency. While Maas paints this as part of Rhysand’s complex plan to save her, the reality of the act — that he violates her consent — is swept under the rug as their relationship progresses. This lack of resolution highlights a troubling issue: Maas is aware that Rhysand's actions constitute an assault, but rather than allowing the characters to address this, she buries it under romantic arcs and "fated mate" destiny.

A glaring moment in A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR) emphasizes the awareness of Rhysand's assault. Lucien, during a heated exchange with Feyre, accuses her of having loved Rhysand all along. Feyre’s defense is chilling: she reminds Lucien that Rhysand forced her to kiss him, an act she had no control over. And Lucien, in shock, asks the question that echoes the concern of many readers: “This is the man you’re with now?”

Let’s break this down: Maas knows what she’s written. She acknowledges the fact that Rhysand took away Feyre’s autonomy, yet she never gives Feyre the chance to confront or process that trauma. This moment between Feyre and Lucien is the only time it’s mentioned in the series, a brief flicker of recognition that quickly fades into oblivion. By doing this, Maas diminishes Feyre's trauma, allowing Rhysand’s actions to go unchallenged. The result? A deeply troubling message that sidesteps the seriousness of assault in favor of a romanticized narrative where love — or destiny — can somehow erase all wrongs.

From a psychological perspective, the erasure of trauma is harmful to the portrayal of healing. Studies show that trauma victims need acknowledgment and validation to heal properly, whether that acknowledgment comes from themselves, their loved ones, or society at large. Bessel van der Kolk, in his book The Body Keeps the Score, argues that unaddressed trauma can create lasting impacts on a person's mental and physical well-being. In the case of Feyre, Maas’s choice to brush the assault under the rug denies her character this crucial step in recovery. Instead, Feyre’s journey with Rhysand is romanticized, implying that the good intentions behind the assault are enough to negate its damaging effects.

Worse still, this narrative perpetuates the toxic idea that love or destiny can somehow "heal" or make up for the violation of consent. Maas portrays Rhysand as Feyre’s savior, her destined mate who "redeems" her from her struggles under the Mountain and from Tamlin’s controlling behavior. But the foundation of their relationship — one that begins with Rhysand drugging and forcing himself on her — never gets resolved. The result is an uncomfortable message: that it’s okay to overlook the bad as long as the end result is a "happy" relationship.

This isn’t just a failure to develop Feyre’s character fully; it’s a failure to challenge problematic behaviors within relationships. Maas’s works often preach the importance of women reclaiming their agency, yet Feyre, the main protagonist, is never given that chance with Rhysand. She is instead swept into the romantic arc without confronting what was done to her — leaving readers with a sour aftertaste that Maas is more interested in fated love than in true feminist ideals.

This lack of resolution becomes even more troubling when we look at the broader narrative of ACOTAR, where Maas purports to champion survivors of sexual violence and trauma. In the very same series, Maas writes about women being violated, their bodies used against them. She even writes about Rhysand’s trauma as a victim of sexual assault by Amarantha. Yet when it comes to the male lead, Rhysand’s similar violation of Feyre is conveniently ignored, as if his status as a romantic hero somehow absolves him of accountability. This sends a dangerous message: that sexual assault can be dismissed or excused based on who commits the act.

Maas’s selective treatment of sexual assault and trauma in ACOTAR is not just problematic — it’s hypocritical. She builds an entire narrative on the premise of women reclaiming their power, only to sidestep one of the most significant power imbalances in the series. Feyre, the character Maas positions as the embodiment of strength and resilience, is denied the opportunity to address the fact that the man she loves once stripped her of her autonomy. In doing so, Maas undermines the very feminist message she claims to be advocating.

This flaw in Maas’s storytelling has greater implications. The normalization of Rhysand’s behavior can desensitize readers to the reality of coercion and assault within relationships. It creates an illusion that as long as someone loves you or has good intentions, their harmful actions can be overlooked. This isn’t empowerment — it’s erasure, and it’s damaging.

In conclusion, Sarah J. Maas's decision not to address Rhysand's assault on Feyre is a troubling oversight that diminishes the importance of consent and accountability in relationships. While Maas may champion themes of recovery and empowerment, the fact that this pivotal moment remains unresolved undercuts her message and leaves readers grappling with a romanticized depiction of coercion. Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship, as it stands, is built on a foundation of unacknowledged harm — and until that harm is addressed, Maas's narrative remains completely flawed.

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iliketangerines · 7 months ago

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Would you be able to write something with mk11 Liu Kang and female reader? Where reader was almost killed in a fight but Liu Kang manages to save them in time? And as he's treating her wounds he confesses his feelings for her and they have sweet and emotional sex?

Thank you in advance! It's amazing how many requests you post a day on top of uni. Keep up the good work! I get so excited when I see that you posted something new :)

a new love

a/n: i need them BOTH NEOWWW

pairing: liu kang x afab!reader x kitana

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), face sitting, chest play, grinding

you can hear cheering all about you, muffled behind the ringing in your ears as you clutch at your side, blood seeping into your armor and leaking onto the ground

the pain burns you, spreading through your body slowly like a poison, and you can feel your heartbeat pounding against your chest much too quickly to be normal

the world is hot and sweaty, too much and too little at the same time as the ringing in your ears fades in and out with the sound of ragged breaths

a hand places itself on your shoulder, and you flinch at the contact and draw your weapon as you blink at the person, trying to find the energy to continue fighting

you hear the familiar voice of Kitana, warbly and dull, and the silhouette of Liu Kang joins the fuzzy figure of Kitana’s as you fall down to the ground on one knee

looking down at the blood pouring from your side, you try and put your hand over the wound to stop the bleeding

and yet, your own hand is too heavy to lift as your eyes begin to close, and you can feel someone touching you, lifting you, cradling your head

it feels so familiar and safe, warm and comforting to be in the hands of whoever is holding you, and you let your weapon fall to the floor as your eyes close and let darkness take your consciousness

when you wake up, it’s the high rise ceilings of medical ward in the Outworld palace, and you groan as your head pounds with pain

you attempt to sit up and hiss through your teeth at the pain that shoots through you as you do so, and you struggle to breathe for a second as you sit up and pull your shirt up to assess the damage

a sizable bandage covers yours torso, and you probably just broke something considering the blood that had started to seep through the bandages

there’s a creak as the doors to the medical wing open, and you spot Kitana and Liu Kang conversing with each other and holding some food

although Liu Kang looks rather strange with glowing white hair and eyes and tattoos, but you could recognize his face anywhere

both of them stop as they realize you’re sitting up, and then in an instant, they’re both next to you, pushing you down and checking on your bandages

Kitana scolds you, telling you to be more careful, and Liu Kang frowns and asks if you feel okay, if anything felt out of place, if the bed was comfortable enough

you wave the both of them, saying that you were fine, that you’re a warrior and you would survive a simple stab wound

Kitana growls at that, saying that it wasn’t just a simple stab wound and that it was no laughing matter

Liu Kang crosses his arms and nods his head as Kitana goes on and on about how you should be more careful with your wounds and your defensive positions

eventually, she runs out of breath and criticisms and pinches the bridge of her nose and looks at you, saying in a soft voice that she was very worried about you

the champion chimes in, saying that the both of them had been very worried about your state of health and that you had been out for almost two weeks

he continues, saying that your wound wasn’t even healing properly for at least a week, festering with diseases and what not, and that it had only started to heal properly only a few days ago

you look between the two of them, and you mumble out that you’ll be more careful next time Shao Kahn comes around

Liu Kang glances at Kitana before looking back to you saying that Shao Kahn was no more, Kitana was Kahn now

your head whips to her, and she smiles and nods at you as your mouth drops open into a smile and you laugh and squeeze her hand

she laughs with you and can’t help it as she dips her head in close and plants a kiss on your lips, and you lean into it, melting into the touch

her hand comes up to cup the back of your head to bring you in a little closer, and you sigh into the kiss and bring your own hand up to cup her face

she’s warm and soft, familiar and comforting, and you want to pull her into your arms to get even closer, to press yourself against her and feel her completely

but then she pulls back, eyes filled with wonder as she looks at you, and she whispers quietly that she’s missed you

Liu Kang pouts at you and asks where’s his kiss, and you laugh and say that he can get one any time he wants to

immediately, he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips as well, eyelashes tickling your cheek as his eyes flutter close at the feeling of you against him

he pulls away after a few moments, and he mutters that although he and Kitana would love to hold you closer, you needed to heal for a few more weeks

you frown at the two of them, opening your mouth to protest, but the both of them shoot you a glare and you settle back down in the cot without a single word

Kitana then adds on that Liu Kang was a god now, and you nearly shoot out of bed at the comment

the next few weeks are torturous as you heal, the two of them barely touch you, treating you as if you were glass, and you were frankly had gotten over the doting after the first few days

you were an Edenian warrior, powerful and great and experienced with fighting and war, you could handle yourself just fine

the nurse looks up at you and clears you for fighting again, and they leave the room as Liu Kang and Kitana help you up from the bed

smacking their hands away, you grab your belongings and storm out of the room back to your bedroom, frustrated that they were treating you like a child

you throw your items back into their places angrily and dress yourself in your training outfit, determined to blow off some steam and prove that you weren’t helpless

as you pull on the last part of your training robes, Kitana and Liu Kang walk into the room and glance at each other and then at your furrowed brows and how your fists clench angrily

Liu Kang asks what’s wrong, and you hiss at him and tell the both of them to leave you alone and that you’re going to train

Kitana grabs onto your arm and pulls you back, asking why the hell you’re acting like a brat, and you scowl right back at her and say that you’re a fully grown adult warrior, you do not need to be doted on like a child

the champion sighs and asks what they’ve done wrong, they want to fix whatever mistake that they’ve made, and you turn to them with an expression of disbelief

you step closer to them, pointing an accusatory finger in their direction, and you list every single thing that they’ve done to baby you, barely touching you, treating you like a fragile little thing, like you can’t protect yourself

you’re frustrated, you just wanted to be with them and be close to them and have them close to you, and yet they kept on avoiding every time you reached out for them, only ever touching you to change your bandages

it had left pent-up energy in your body, sexual frustration and anger at the both of them, and you were tired of them acting like you couldn’t handle yourself

breathing heavily, you sigh and unclench your fists and press the back of your hand into your forehead, and you take a second to just stare up at the ceiling and gather your thoughts

you look back at them, and Liu Kang looks sad, lips turned downward in a frown and brows furrowed

Kitana, on the other hand, looks hard and all edges, none of the softness of Liu Kang, lips pursed and eyes glinting in the light like a predator’s

she steps toward you, Liu Kang following behind her, and she tilts your chin up with her finger, asking if you were done

Liu Kang comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, arms coming up to circle around your waist and kiss apologies into your neck

she says that her and Liu Kang had been careful with you because you had been on the brink of death, you had died

you blink at her and let out a small what in disbelief, and Kitana sighs and puts her hands on her hips, looking down and grimacing before finally looking back up at you

your heartbeat had stopped for a minute, you had technically died in front of Liu Kang and Kitana as they carried you to the medical wing, there was blood splattered all over the ground, a trail that had taken a whole day to clean up because of how much there was

they thought that you didn’t survive in the fight that they had caused, and for weeks they had thought you were never going to wake up

neither of them want to risk accidentally hurting you again because they’re scared of hurting you, and Kitana looks away as she finishes, huffing as she holds back tears

none of you speak for a moment as you take in the seriousness of what had happened to you, and you bring your hands to hold Liu Kang’s shaking ones

you can feel his tears on your shoulder, and you look at Kitana, mumbling that you didn’t know

she takes in a shaky breath, saying that you were right though, you are a very capable fighter, one of the best in Sun Do and that she and Liu Kang shouldn’t have diminished your ability to fight because of their own fears

stepping closer to you, she raises one of her hands up to cradle your face and asks you to let them make it up to you, and you breathe out an okay

Kitana nearly throws herself into you as she smashes her lips into yours, one hand continuing to cradle your face and the other on your shoulder, nails digging into the soft skin

Liu Kang behind you resumes his kisses to your skin, hands moving so that they rested on your waist, and he squeezes it, sighing into your skin that he missed you, that he loved you

you can barely hear him over the sound of your own noises as Kitana kisses you breathless, only pulling away to give herself air

she pulls your forehead to rest on hers, panting and letting your breaths mingle as Liu Kang whines for attention as well

you turn your head to the side, and he meets you with his lips, pulling you into a soft kiss and moaning into your mouth

Kitana’s hands slides along your body, squeezing at your chest and making your knees buckle as she slides her hands up and under your shirt to pinch at your nipples

Liu Kang hums and pulls away, staring at you with those soft eyes, and he whispers that they should move to the bed

you nod in agreement, head already spinning from being surrounded on both sides, and Liu Kang picks you up, hooking one of his thick arms underneath the bend of your knees and the other underneath your back

holding onto him for balance, he deposits you on the bed so that you’re flat on your back before going back to kissing you, his weight pressing into you

your hand reaches out blindly, and you can feel the familiar weight of Kitana’s hand in yours and squeeze it as Liu Kang desperately kisses you

it’s messy and wet, teeth clacking against each other and breathless pants before moving in for more, but neither of you can find yourselves caring at the lack of air

he rips at your clothes, the fabric burning in his hands as he stares at your chest and moves to dip his head low and press his tongue to your nipple

his hand ghosts over the scar on your side, and you shiver, making him whine into your skin and look up at you in worry

you whisper that it’s okay, just feels sensitive, and he nods, holding onto your side gently as he starts to suck hickeys into your chest

Kitana tilts your head to look at her, and you squirm underneath Liu Kang’s weight, wanting to please her as well

she laughs at your impatience and tells you to be still, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go of it and pulling back

the complaint dies in your throat as you watch her undress, revealing her lean body to you, muscle hidden in its thinness, and she crawls up onto the bed and asks if you wanna please her

you nod at her, whimpering out a please, and she laughs and says that she thought so before coming over and straddling your face while facing Liu Kang

she slowly lowers herself onto your face, and you bring your arms up to hook around your thighs to bring her even closer

your tongue comes out to fuck into her pussy, and you moan at her taste, having missed her, the weight, the taste, the pleasure

Liu Kang wraps his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before lightly nipping at the sensitive bud with his teeth, and it makes you jolt and lose concentration for just a moment

Kitana hums as your tongue stops moving briefly, and she lets you regain your concentration, riding your face as Liu Kang teases your chest

you can barely concentrate with Liu Kang biting and kissing at your chest, moving to the other nipple and giving it attention while Kitana rides your face

the lack of air only makes everything more intense

it’s like you’re breathing in pleasure as you feel Kitana grind her hips further into you, and you happily let her use you for her own pleasure as you use your tongue to fuck her

the feeling settles into your lungs, spreading down your veins slowly into your stomach, pooling and building, and your thighs squeeze uselessly around Liu Kang’s waist to try and get some friction on your needy clit

he moans into your skin as you squeeze his waist with your legs, and he bites into the skin of your chest harshly as Kitana moans loudly, cumming on your face

it’s all you need to cum in your own pants, lapping at Kitana’s taste and squeeze her thighs with your arms, and you try to ride out your high on Liu Kang

however, he doesn’t seem to notice your own desperation, too lost in his own task on littering your skin with his marks, and your orgasm sputters out, making you whine and sob and twitch underneath his grasp

Kitana lifts herself up off your face, and you whine again at the loss of her warmth

she comes around to smile at you, telling you did so well for her before going to Liu Kang and grabbing his hair to pull his head up

he whines at the feeling, looking to Kitana, and she says that they were making it up to you, not to pleasure just themselves, so why did he ignore you to chase his own selfish needs

the words take a second to settle into his brain, and he looks to you with a downcast look and mumbles out an apology

Kitana tells him to get on the bed, on his back, and he follows the order quickly

she helps you get up onto your shaky legs and tells you to remove his pants, and you do so with clumsy fingers, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach

slowly, Kitana straddles his waist and orders you to grind against his cock, and you do so, biting your lip at the feeling of the head of his cock pressing into your clit

your slick covers his cock as you start to grind against him involuntarily, and she coos at you, telling you that you’re doing amazing and to take what you need

you grab onto her shoulders for balance as you whine and chase your own pleasure, and Kitana chuckles, grinding against Liu Kang’s abs

she groans at the feeling, slapping away Liu Kang’s hands and telling him that he’s not allowed to touch her and you and that he’s not to cum until she tells him to

he whines but obliges, panting and gripping onto the sheets as you grind against his cock, the tip bumping against your clit and making you keen

you grind your hips down further, too lost in your own pleasure, and Kitana grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss

moaning into her mouth, you cum on Liu Kang’s cock quickly, still sensitive from the precious one, letting your cum cover his cock and drip down onto the sheets and his waist

it only makes it easier to grind against him as you ride out your high, and Liu Kang keens underneath you to, begging Kitana to cum

she ignores him, continuing to ride his abs as she kisses you, and she whispers praises to you as you slow down and pant for air

Kitana bites her lip as she cums again on Liu Kang’s abs, sighing at the feeling and grinding her hips faster against him

he begs again, please, and she lets her orgasm die down first, getting up off of him and helping you off of him and to lie next to him

she grins at the champion, telling him to stretch you out for his cock, show you how sorry he is for neglecting you earlier, and he eagerly shuffles until your thighs are resting on his shoulders and his tongue assaults your sensitive clit

as his fingers thrust into you and you whine, Kitana leaves the bed and rummages around in the drawer before pulling out her strap

you eye her as she attaches it to herself, and she crawls back up to you, saying that they were going to make it up to you tonight

none of you are seen for the rest of the day

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starsxblazing · 1 year ago

Text

Cause and Effect (Part 3)

a/n: please excuse any proof reading mistakes because my brain is still mush after working my 40 hours this week. I was too excited to post the next chapter simply for all of your amazing responses!

You huffed in annoyance from your lack of sleep just as the sun was beginning to rise in the sky. Sleep had evaded you for the majority of the night because you just hadn’t been able to calm your mind. The happiness and excitement that you had felt just for having someone pay you some attention made you feel horrible about yourself, like you were no better than a toddler. It didn’t seem to bother the male that you had found such a sense of peace with just by being in his presence for just a few minutes.

Hope surged through you at the thought of him and found yourself praying to whatever the Fae believed in that you would see him again today. You dug through the clothes that you had been given but you didn’t have the energy to put much thought into anything. A grumble of your stomach had you completely abandoning the idea.

“Good morning,” you mumbled sleepily, still in your pajamas, when you entered the dining room with the male from the day before and Mor sitting at the table.

“Good morning,” Mor replied with a small smile. “We weren’t expecting you to be up so early.”

“I do rise early sometimes,” you chuckled as you took a seat beside her with the male sitting across from you. “But everything.. It’s hard to sleep now.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Mor rubbed your arm for a moment in a comforting manner. “We’re glad that you are out here with us.”

You gave her a small but sad smile, unsure of what to say. It was obvious that none of them knew about you and even though it hurt, you did your best not to show it. Feyre had mentioned in a conversation that you accidentally overheard that the food here was delicious and now that you had a taste, you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to normal human food. The thought had you returning to the day that you had been forced into the cauldron and realized that you didn’t know anyone’s name and most importantly, how they all were doing after injuries.

“You were hurt.” You locked eyes with the hazel ones across from you. “And your friend-”

“We’re alright,” he assured, causing you to slump in relief into your seat. “Cassian’s wings are healing as we speak.”

“I’m so glad.” You gave him a gentle smile before gazing at his wings momentarily. “I can’t imagine how much pain that you were in. I feel horrible that I didn’t even think to ask you last night.”

“It’s okay.” He gave you another genuine, small smile that earned a near silent gasp from the female beside her. “You have been through more than any of us can imagine.”

“I don’t even know your names,” you mumbled, choosing to ignore his reassurance since you were trying to avoid the thoughts of your own.

“You’ve met Mor.” He gestured towards the female beside you who simply rolled her eyes. “Cassian, as I said, was the one that was injured as well and Rhysand is our High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Oh.” It was hard to keep your mind from the horrible memories, the thoughts making your heart hurt even more now that you knew their names. “Have you heard from Feyre?”

“She will be alright and will be back as soon as she can,” Mor answered confidently.

Your sister had obviously thrived since she had become High Fae and you couldn’t help but wonder if you or your other sisters would be able to do it as well even though you didn’t have much of a choice. A part of you wanted to adjust but at the same time, you were terrified of the life that you had been unwillingly shoved into. You were at least trying to be friendly even though Elain still refused to speak and Nesta was being her usual angry self.

You weren’t sure how to feel with everything that was going on around you but your mind began to drift back to your human life. Your favorite holiday would be arriving in a few months and you hoped that it would be something that would be accepted for the first time. Remembering that you didn’t know the male’s name, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you stingy with your name?”

“No,” he chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated, finding that you liked how it rolled so simply off of your tongue.

He seemed to like it as well due to the smile tugging at his lips but you chose to ignore it, opting to eat what you could. You could feel his gaze on you and noticed it for yourself when you glanced at him from your peripheral as Mor began to tell you what Velaris had to offer.

“It sounds beautiful,” you sighed in awe.

“I could take you.” Your eyes met Azriel’s, noting that his expression was neutral even though you felt like he deeply wanted you to agree. “The city is meant to be seen at night.”

“I would expect nothing less from The City of Starlight,” you laughed, noting an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

You listened to stories pour from Mor and your emotions turned over in a constant loop, wondering if you would fit into this tight knit family. It was something that you had never had and so desperately wanted. You hoped that now that you and your sisters were all together that the family dynamic might change, hoped that you would finally become important. Deciding to try to interact with your sisters, you gave them a small smile and a nod before going to find them.

Just as you expected, Elain was still staring blankly out of the window with Nesta in a chair in the room and reading a book. Your oldest sister’s flat stare fell on you and although you felt uncomfortable, you held your ground and held onto hope.

“How are you both doing?” you asked quietly, eyes darting between them both.

“How does it look?” she snapped, her ever snarky tone lacing through each word.

“All of this is so hard and I want to try to help you if you would let me,” you offered, gripping your intentions with a steel grip so that you didn’t back away.

“Why don’t you go back to the male that you decided to prefer your company with?”

“Then why did you even bother to make him leave me alone!?” you exclaimed as your pain began to overwhelm you.

“Go. Away,” Nesta growled.

It took all of your self control to hold back your tears as you darted back towards your room. Loneliness, which was a feeling that you were well acquainted with, overtook all of your senses. Even though you were used to it, it hurt even worse with the circumstances that you were now in. It felt as if it was impossible to sort through without your own family's help. You could only hold onto hope that you may have found real friends with Mor and Azriel.

You stayed in your room for the rest of the day, not bothering to leave for lunch or dinner. A knock had sounded on your door after each missed meal that followed with Mor’s muffled but concerned voice sounding through the wood. You had jumped up from your bed whenever the sun began to set, remembering that you had a late afternoon with Azriel planned. It made some excitement return because you truly did love his company.

Mor was at your door once again while you were staring at your new wardrobe as if she already knew of your struggle. She laughed at your confused expression and joined you to look at the variety of the obviously expensive dresses. It was more than welcome and you decided to let her make the choice for you since you knew next to nothing about dressing up.

“This is so hard,” you whined but fell quiet at the gorgeous blue dress that she pulled out.

“What about this one?” she asked, a knowing twinkle in her eye that you didn’t understand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything so nice in my life.” You stared at it in awe and the female seemed pleased. “I love it.”

“I thought that you would.” Mor gave you a brilliant smile before directing you to the vanity. “Now let’s get something done with this beautiful hair.”

A blush rose to your cheeks at the compliment since you hadn’t received very many. You watched her work, noting every small movement that she did so that you would be able to do it for yourself at some point. The loose curls that ended up forming was something that made you feel brand new. Your eyes burned from the tears that wanted to form at the sight of yourself once you were fully dressed and staring at yourself in the mirror.

It was the prettiest that you had ever felt in your entire life and you finally felt as if you actually meant something, even if it was only a fleeting moment. You took a deep breath before you rounded the corner where Azriel was waiting in an attempt to keep your newfound confidence.

His face instantly softened when he saw you and you could feel Mor’s eyes on you from behind you. Heat rose to your cheeks once more, unaccustomed to having a male look at you in a way that didn’t mean that he only wanted to sleep with you. He guided you to the balcony, his hand barely brushing against your lower back.

“The House is warded against winnowing so we will have to fly,” he started gently, watching you with nearly invisible caution. “There is always the option of the ten thousand steps to the city but that would ruin your beautiful dress.”

“I’ve never flown before.” It was hard to speak and keep the shock from the simple compliment from your tone before eyeing his wings. “It sounds scary.”

“I promise not to drop you,” he chuckled, the noise almost inaudible.

You nodded despite your fear and focused on your excitement for the night.

Tag List:

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel

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asktheritochampion · 3 months ago

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please teach me about Rito anatomy dude I’m so lost what the freak are your finger feather-wing things

Ugh. Do I look like a bioligy teacher to you? Why don't you pick up a book for once in your pathetic life?

Fine. I shall explain this exactly once - and only because clearly I am the only Rito many of you fools seem to know, and it is important that you understand in which the ways we differ to Hylians -considering the fact we shall likely be fighting side by side in future battles. You should understand the workings of your allies and the way they move and fight.

This is the anatomical structure of a Rito skeliton.

As you may see, it is not drastically different to your own. Yes, we have very long wings and fingers compared to Hylians. We also have a pelvic bone called a synsacrum, a much narrower ribcage, and our knees bend in the opposite direction to yours.

Our upper maxilla is technically not part of our skelital structure, but rather a keratin structure similar to Hylians having teeth and nails, however we still include it within structual sketches.

Rito bones are hollow, not containing the marrow that Hylian bones do. They are very brittle, however very quick to heal.

Next we have the Rito muscle and organ structure. This is where we really vary from Hylian anatomy.

Rito have large, flat wing and back muscles for flight, we also have incredbly thick muscles around our thighs. While an at-ease Hylian may be standing straight, the Rito leg muscles are elasticated at tensition and are at ease when crouching. This is to cushion landings.

We also have cresting muscles at the base of our skulls and tails, which can lift the crest or tail for intimidation or mating purposes.

Rito eyes are different to Hylian eyes. Hylian eyes vibrate very slightly so that they can constantly percive depth in their surroudings. However, Rito eyes are stationary, thus we will often bob our heads silently while watching prey or enemies to enable ourselves to correctly detect where they are. Motionless, Rito have a hard time observing things which aren't moving. However, we are able to perceive a great deal more colours than Hylians can - including ultraviolet and infrared. Rito feathers contain a huge amount more patterning than Hylians are able to see.

Our internal organs are far smaller than most races in Hyrule for the purpose of keeping us as light as possible for flight, however this does make us susceptable to a variety of diseases and illnesses.

Rito have three 'stomachs'. A gizzard, which acts similarly to a Hylian mouth, grinding up the food we swallow into a digestable paste. Often we consume small amounts of gravel with our diets to provide roughage for this organ. A regurgitation pouch, for collecting and spitting up undigestable matter like bones and fur, and for feeding infants post egg-laying. And a regular stomach for digesting the paste-food and distributing nutrients to the rest of the body.

We have one intestinal tract instead of Hylian's two - for efficiency, of course. If it's all waste anyway, why do you need to seperate it?

Rito also function similar to Zora, with a cloaca instead of external genetalia. A female Rito will have a uterus which can expand up to fifty times its size to accomidate a growing egg, while a male Rito will have internal testis which produce a mucus-sac containing semen which can be deposited from the body during reproduction. Rito are incapable of knowing whether they're male or female until adolescence when they either begin laying eggs every three or so months, or do not.

Then we get onto the Rito feathers - which is a similarly important part of our anatomy.

Rito are covered in four different types of feather. Our primaries and secondaries, needed for flight, and our base and resistance, needed for sustaining body heat and the elements.

Chicks are born with little to no feathers, then typically grow an entire body-coating of base feathers within their first week or so of life. These are incredibly thick, downy feathers that trap warmth to keep our internal structure safe from the low tempretures.

As a fledgling grows, they will start to gain their primary feathers first. A thicker, sturdier kind of feather which cover our wings and make up our tail. Fledglings can start learning to fly as soon as they have all of their primaries grown in - however they are incapable of flying more than a short distance until their secondaries start to grow, as their wings are not thick enough to hold their weight.

Tail and cresting feathers begin to grow during adolecence, as do resistance feathers, which slowly begin to replace the base feathers of your upper body with each moult. These are a sleek, waterproof feather, much sharper and thicker than a base feather, and they act as a protective, waterproof layer for weathering the elements.

Throughout our lives, Rito do not tend to grow resistance feathers in their lower regions, which remain downy and soft. While Rito can be suprisingly strong swimmers, too long in a body of water will soak these feathers and cause them to become extremely heavy, and they'll take several days to dry out.

Rito also have plumes which grow at the back of our heads - a different kind of feather all together which Hylians often mistake for hair. While these are not included within anatomical structure illustrations, our plumes play an important part in our cultural practises. We never cut them and they never moult, but rather we grow them our entire lives, and longer plumes are considered a sign of wisdom and power. Warriors often wear them braided for efficiency on the battle field, however traditionally Rito captains will style them high above their heads to display their length to intimidate opponants.

Thus ends my explanation. I hope this offered you some valuable insight so that you may better understand the biological workings of your Rito counterparts.

#revali #rito #rito village #age of calamity #breath of the wild #legends of zelda #tears of the kingdom #i had fun with this

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kaisntbreathing · 1 year ago

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Hi hi! Could I ask for adam x seraphim!female!reader, where after adam died he ended up in hell (like a reverse pentious) and its sort of angsty in the beginning because reader has taken over from adam and her and lute were close before and it's like sad bcs it's the first extermination after Adams death, and when they go down, lute is really protective of reader because girl can't go through that shit again and then they are walking down a street and reader gets tackled into a hug and lute almost kills the person BUT turns out its adam?

(Little more context I guess? Adam and reader where dating before, and reader and lute were already close but became closer. This isn't readers normal job (lutes in charge of training everyone still), and she is basically the same as sera and Emily in the fact she does courts and stuff but she chose to help with exterminations on the day off because she wants to help heal her sadness by taking it out on ppl?)

SORRY IF ITS TOO LONG XX

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 ❦

𝐑𝐀𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐀𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇-

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 24 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏-

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐓

I LOVE YOU LILY OMG YOU HAVE SUCH A BIG BRAIN OMGOMGOMG-

BUT SERIOUSLY I LOVE THIS IDEA AND I'M ACTUALLY RLLY HIGH WHILE WRITING THIS SO HEHEHE

'۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋┊ཻུ۪۫❁۪۪'

With all the court date business with being a Seraphim and all of the stress of the exterminations is now being put on your shoulders you had the duties like the other Seraphims, there were three of you. Yourself, Emily, and Sera the three of you managed to get by but it was a lot of work you couldn't imagine how much work the archangels had to do.

And what made matters worse you were still grieving about your dead boyfriend who had died last year to the exterminations to none other than Charlie Morningstar and Lucifer Morningstar themselves and he was finished off by a lowing janitor demon who is no bigger than a child at the most.

You and Lute had been given unwanted promotions which led to more stress and work under your shoulders and on your wings.

As the next extermination was already a few days away you had to prepare you had planned to go down and kill some demons since you felt the urge to and you had been given the green light by the other Seraphims to do so you had to take out your unacquitted rage somehow.

Since it was only currently bubbling up inside of you and you knew that wasn't healthy nor was it safe since eventually you were going to bubble over and snap at somebody you don't mean to and only God knows what kind of trouble that could get you into.

As you were counting down the days till the next extermination you had been talking with your best friend Lute who you'd grown closer to since Adam's death she had taught you how to defend yourself in case something happened to you and she couldn't be by your side to protect you which probably wasn't going to happen since she had gotten very protected and very protective of you.

"One more day... One more day marks the day I lost you..."

You spoke as you looked at the picture of the two of you the first time you and Adam had hung out in a picture frame by your bed as you felt the hot stinging tears roll down your cheeks you couldn't help but choke back a sob you missed him more than anything he was the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your afterlife with.

But those plans have been rudely interrupted by none other than the king and princess of Hell you promised yourself one day you get your revenge but you knew in this current state you are nowhere near strong enough to take on Lucifer on your own.

Even as a Seraphim who could possess high power stood no match to Lucifer who was a fallen archangel only another archangel or God Almighty themself could take him down.

You were snapped out of your trance by the sound of knocking what you're doing as you snapped your head towards the door you responded letting the other person know they could come in as the figure of your friend Lute made her way back into your room as she noticed your tears as she rushed towards you bringing her self close to you pulling you into a hug quickly.

"I miss him too Y/n..."

ONE DAY LATER

It was extermination day finally as you and the rest of the exterminators along with your friend Lute flew towards the portal to Hell as you arrived at the dark dingy and ominous landscape of Hell that smelled like rot and decay, you coughed as the air was harsh and bitter to the taste as your nose scrunched up.

"It reeks here..."

"Yeah you never get used to the smell"

As you flew around the streets of Hell looking toward for any demon that you could stick your weapon into your weapon was different than the other angels you had your own weapon as a Seraphim much like an archangel that got their own weapons although there's were more customized while you only had a two-sided spear one side was sharp and smooth and the other was rigid and curved nonetheless both ends were very sharp.

Suddenly something caught your eye as you stopped and hovered as your wings folded against your back as your feet touch the pavement as you looked into a dark alleyway seeing a pair of golden eyes staring right back at you, as you tilted your head in confusion on why they weren't running instead they were running towards you.

Suddenly the demon embraced you. You were confused for a moment until he looked up at you and you immediately recognized who it was.

"A-Adam?"

"You remember me?"

"Of cou-"

"Y/N!"

You heard Lutes panicked voice behind you as you spun around trying to diffuse her anger as you shielded Adam from Lute making her stop in her tracks as she looked confused at you before you stepped away showing the demon as she dropped her own spear embracing him tightly as the three of you embraced each other.

The trio is back together.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #kai #xreader #requests open #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader

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imarealnugget · 1 year ago

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Choso Kamo comforting you after a break up

Feat. Choso Kamo, female reader and her ex boyfriend.

TW. fluff, memories with ex boyfriend, comforting!Chosoxfemale!reader after a break up

Words Count: 1.1k+

Synopsis: Your heart is shattered by a painful breakup. As you grapple with the devastation of lost love, you seek refuge in the comforting presence of your best friend, Choso. Choso, who harbors secret feelings for you, becomes your anchor in the stormy seas of heartache. He offers solace and understanding, his unwavering support a beacon of hope in your darkest hour. As you lean on Choso for support, you begin to realize the depth of your connection to him. His comforting embrace and reassuring words slowly heal the wounds left by your former relationship, igniting a newfound spark between you. Despite the fear and uncertainty that linger in your heart, you find yourself drawn to Choso in ways you never thought possible. Through his patience and unwavering devotion, you begin to see him in a new light, recognizing the love that has been quietly waiting in the wings.

You journey back into the maze of memories, where pathways intertwine and overlap until you find yourself facing a moment you thought buried forever. It's a summer day, the sun shining high in the sky, but you and your ex-boyfriend were immersed in a conversation that echoes an impending storm. He gripped your hand tightly, trying to convey reassurance with the mere touch of skin, but you felt a knot of anguish tightening in your stomach. His words were sweet, sugary, but you know that beneath that veneer of affection lied something wrong, something that has left you with a sense of emptiness in your chest. "I love you," he used to say, and your heart leapted in your chest, but not with joy. You know it was not true, that his words were just a clumsy attempt to keep you tied to him, to hold you in a gilded cage made of lies and falsehoods. Yet, you were not able to free yourself from that grip tightening around you ever more tightly. You found yourself spending hours upon hours with him, desperately trying to fill the void you were feeling inside, but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized that there was nothing to do to fill that void. His caresses were empty, his words were false, and you felt increasingly alone, increasingly lost in a maze with no way out. Yet, you continued to hope that things would have changed, that he would finally be able to understand how much pain he was causing you, but with each passing day you realized that his presence in your life was just a weight dragging you further and further down, further away from the happiness you so desperately desired, but you were soso in love with him, you didn't want to break up with him. Then, one day, everything changed. You woke up with a broken heart, tears warm on your cheeks, but that time was different. That time you knew you had to let him go, to free yourself from the chain that was holding you prisoner for too long. The phone kept ringing, a dissonant melody reminded you of the emptiness now occupying your chest. "It's over," you repeated to yourself, as if uttering those words could make them less real, less painful. But it was futile. Reality was there, relentless, squeezing your heart with its icy hands. Without a second thought, you sought comfort in the only place you'd always considered a safe haven: Choso's arms. Your best friend, your confidant, the only person who had always understood you better than anyone else. And in that moment of despair, it was to him you ran, like a castaway clinging to a raft in the midst of a stormy sea.

When Choso answered your call, his voice was calm and reassuring, a beacon in the dark night of your soul. "I'm coming," he assured you, and you felt a knot of gratitude tighten in your throat. You weren't alone, not yet. And as you waited for his arrival, you tried to gather the fragments of your dignity scattered among the tears, trying not to let the pain overwhelm you completely. Finally, you heard him knock on the door, the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching. Then, the door opened and he was there, with a look full of concern and affection. You threw yourself into his arms, seeking refuge in his secure embrace, and he held you close, gently, as if he wanted to protect you from the whole world. "Hey hey, it's okay, shh, you'll be fine," he whispered, and you felt his words penetrate your wounded heart, like a caress on your skin. He stroked your hair delicately, as if he wanted to erase every trace of sadness from your troubled mind. And as you listened to him speak, you felt a sense of calm spreading within you, as if his words were a balm for your soul. "You're not alone," Choso continued, his voice an anchor of salvation in the storm. "I'm here for you, always. Never forget it. He was an idiot to leave you like this, without an explanation but just with a stupid call, and for that he deserves to see you happy without him, because you deserve much better, he must suffer for letting you go like this." His words resonated within you, like a sacred promise to protect you from every evil. And you believed him, because you knew that his love for you was sincere and deep, deeper than any ocean, wider than any sky. You stayed there, in his arms, until the tears dried up and your breath returned to normal. Then, without saying a word, he gently laid you down on the couch and covered your body with a soft blanket. He looked at you with eyes full of affection and concern, and you felt enveloped by a sense of warmth and security that warmed your soul. "Rest," he said, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself be lulled by the sound of his voice blending with the sweet silence of the night. Sleep came soon, taking you away from the pain and chaos of the outside world, letting you sink into a sea of peace and tranquility.

When you woke up, he was still there, next to you. His face was serene in the darkness of the room, a guardian angel silently watching over your dreams. You turned to him, your heart full of gratitude and love, and you smiled at him, knowing that you couldn't ask for a better friend than him by your side. "Thank you," you whispered, the words barely audible in the quiet of the night. "Thank you for always being there for me. I felt really bad when my now ex-boyfriend left me before. I loved him, maybe I still do. But maybe I never realized what I felt for you, I didn't know how to love you enough, but now I think I'm doing it." He blushed "What are you talking about-". And you kissed him without warning, a sweet kiss that neither you nor he would ever forget. When you opened your eyes, his were wide open, his face red and his lips semi-open. You approached him, placing your lips on his again in a sweet and passionate kiss, a tribute to the bond that united you, indissoluble and eternal. "I'm telling you that I love you too; dummy," you whispered, laughing softly, your face as red as his. A small smile formed on his face, expressing all his happiness: finally after months you would have become his, his girlfriend and the person he could kiss without having to hold back like he did for all that time that passed since he began to love you with all his heart. "Are you serious?…" "I couldn't be more serious than this, Choso" and you kissed him again. This time he also closed his eyes while his hands caressed your cheek while you two lost yourselves in that sweet moment between you two.

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kc-writes-sometimes · 5 months ago

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Crown and Kin | Chapter Four

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Four: The Girl is a Dragon

Word Count: 2,869

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: As Daella settles into life in the Red Keep, she begins to uncover pieces of her Targaryen heritage and the legacy that comes with it. With a significant audience with the King looming, her bond with Daemon grows stronger, but new revelations leave her questioning her place in this unfamiliar world.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

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Daella of King's Landing

A few days had passed since the silver-haired boy, dusted with dragon ash, appeared in the chamber they were using. Daella’s feet had finally healed enough for her to explore the Keep, and Daemon had moved them into the chambers he had once occupied as a boy. The contrast between this room and the queen’s quarters was striking. Here, the walls were bare, unpainted stone, rough to the touch. Red blankets draped the bed, and tapestries depicting ancient Targaryen legends hung proudly. The hearth was larger than the one in the queen’s chambers, and the fire within it burned brightly. This room, with its bold colors and roaring flames, offered Daella a surprising sense of comfort.

She stood before the crackling fire, its warmth softly kissing her skin. Her eyes lingered on the tapestry above the hearth. It showed a dark-haired man, kneeling on the muddy banks of a river, his heavy fur cloak draped around him. His head was bowed before another figure—this one tall and clad in silver armor. Behind the armored figure loomed a massive dragon, its wings partially unfurled. Two women in armor stood nearby, their stances regal. Men flanked either side—some in furs, with banners displaying a grey wolf on a white field, and others in armor, their shields and banners emblazoned with the red dragon on black, the sigil of House Targaryen.

“What are you doing, little one?” Daemon’s voice cut through the silence as he entered the room, his arms full of clothes. He let them spill onto the bed, the rich colors of red, black, and gold unfurling as he sat down.

Daella glanced at him with a smile before returning her gaze to the tapestry. “What is this?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“That, my sweet girl, is Torrhen Stark, the King in the North, bending the knee to Aegon Targaryen. That moment began a decades-long alliance between us and the Starks of Winterfell,” Daemon explained, moving to stand beside her.

“Rose told me she was from the North, from a place called Mole’s Town,” Daella whispered quietly. “She stopped at Winterfell on her way to King’s Landing. She said it was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. I asked her to take me there, but I suppose she never will now.”

Daemon smiled gently. “I’ll take you. We can visit Winterfell and the Wall, and I’ll show you part of your great-grandmother’s legacy. But for now, choose something to wear. We have an audience with the king tomorrow.”

Daella moved to the bed and began sorting through the clothes. “These are all dresses,” she said, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Can’t I wear trousers?”

Daemon opened one eye as he lounged on the settee in front of the fire. “No, you cannot wear trousers. Pick a dress and be done with it.”

She rolled her eyes, a pout forming on her lips.

“And don’t pull that face,” he added, his tone slightly teasing. “It’s unbecoming of a young lady to pout.”

“I don’t think the King would care whether I’m wearing trousers or not,” she retorted sharply.

“The King may not, but the vultures at court certainly will,” Daemon replied with a sigh, his voice heavy. He looked at her with one eye half-open. “And we need to make a good impression.”

“If it’s all about making a good impression, will you be wearing a dress too?” Daella quipped, turning to face him with a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

Daemon sat up, his piercing indigo gaze locking onto hers, one eyebrow raised in amusement. For a moment, he said nothing, then suddenly burst into laughter. “Careful, daughter,” he warned, his smile broadening. “I could have your tongue for that.”

As he approached, Daella stuck her tongue out defiantly. His laugh deepened, and when he reached her, he placed his hands on her shoulders with playful firmness, steering her toward the bed.

“Into bed, silly girl,” he said softly. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Daella climbed into bed, the soft mattress cocooning her as she settled in. Daemon pulled the blankets around her, wrapping her snugly in their warmth before taking his usual spot beside her. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she felt the familiar comfort of his presence. Daemon was always there when she fell asleep, but he was rarely there when she woke up. She often wondered where he disappeared to, but never asked.

He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his voice humming softly. With his warmth beside her and the sound of his voice lulling her, Daella’s eyes grew heavy, and soon, the world faded to black.

The next morning, maids bustled around, filling a bronze tub and setting out bread and cured meats on the table, while draping several dresses across the bed. Daella had refused to choose one last night, and now she had to face the inevitable. Reluctantly, she settled on a gown of gold, trimmed with delicate red lace. It was exquisite, regal even—but she still wished she could wear trousers. She held it up for Daemon’s approval as he sat at the table, absently picking at the food. He gave her a small nod, his expression unreadable, before rising and striding toward the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, unable to keep the curiosity from her voice as she stood from the bed.

Daemon barely glanced back. “I have things to attend to, my sweet,” he said, pulling the door open with a soft creak. “The maid will help you dress. I’ll return before it’s time to meet the King.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help! I’m not a baby,” she retorted, racing after him.

Daemon paused just outside the door, turning back to face her with a smirk playing at his lips. He walked backwards down the hall, shaking his head, his eyes alight with mischief. “Then don’t act like one, Daella. Now be a good girl and let the maid help you.”

He spun on his heel and continued down the corridor, his dark cloak billowing behind him. Daella mimicked his words in a pout, "But I don’t want help," mocking his tone. One of the guards outside the door stifled a laugh, and she huffed, retreating into the chamber.

The maid stood quietly, eyes downcast as Daella paced the room. She cast a reluctant glance at the tub. “How does this work? I’ve never bathed in something like this before.”

The maid offered a small, patient smile. “Step in, my lady. We will start simply.”

She had been washing Daella’s hair for what felt like an eternity, each stroke of her hands careful, almost reverent. Occasionally, she picked up a strand and dropped it back into the water with a contemplative "hmm," as if something puzzled her. The once milky water had darkened, swirling like ink around Daella.

When she stepped out, the maid wrapped her in a soft robe and guided her to the mirror. Daella stared at her reflection, frozen in disbelief. A small scream escaped her throat. Her dark curls were gone. In their place, long waves of deep silver cascaded down her back, catching the light. It was the same shade as the necklace she had seen in the market. She pulled at the strands as though they might change back, panic bubbling up within her. Magic? A trick? She looked like... like him. Like a Targaryen. It felt foreign, wrong.

As if summoned by her distress, Daemon burst through the door, hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the room for danger.

“What happened? Why did you scream?” he demanded, his voice edged with concern.

“My hair!” she cried, yanking at the strands in desperation. “Look at my hair!”

His tension eased immediately. With a quiet chuckle, he approached her, moving slowly as though afraid she might bolt. He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. "This," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, "is how your mother looked when I first met her. Before she began dyeing her hair."

His words stilled her panic. The mention of her mother shifted her focus, a sadness tugging at her heart. "Tell me about her," Daella asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Rose and Harwin… they never speak of her. I think it hurts them too much."

Daemon’s gaze softened, his chin resting on her head as he stared into the mirror. "I didn’t know her well, my sweet. But I will tell you what I can… in time." He paused, and his lips twitched into a smirk. "But not today. We’re late already. I have a gift for you, something of Old Valyria, before we face my brother."

From behind his back, he produced a silver box, adorned with the Targaryen sigil. It was heavier than Daella expected for something so small. Inside, nestled on black velvet, lay the necklace from the market, its dark hue glinting like her new hair.

"It matches my sword," Daemon said, sliding his sword from its sheath just enough to reveal the matching sheen of the blade. His eyes flicked to hers in the mirror.

"Were you following me?" she asked, her fingers tracing the delicate links of the necklace.

"I have been following you since Harwin carried you away," he said, his voice lowering. "I saw the bread you left at the orphanage door. I saw the way you braided Harwin’s hair, the way you smiled at every watchman in the city. And yes, I even saw that mangy dog you tried to convince Rose to keep." He paused, his eyes softening as they met hers. "I knew you were mine, even before Rose told me."

Tears pricked at the corners of Daella’s eyes. "How did you know?"

"The same way I knew Caraxes was mine," he said, pressing his forehead against hers for a brief moment. "I just knew."

Daemon stepped back, nodding toward the dressing screen. "Now, get dressed."

The gown felt heavy as Daella pulled it over her head. She walked out from behind the screen, the delicate silk pooling at her feet. No one would know she wasn’t wearing shoes beneath the long hem. She smiled faintly at the small rebellion.

"It’s itchy," she huffed, tugging at the sleeves.

Daemon crouched down, lifting a corner of the skirt between his fingers. "It’s silk," he corrected with a soft laugh. "You’re just nervous."

"I’m not!" Daella snapped, but Daemon’s raised eyebrow said he saw through the lie. She fidgeted under his gaze. "What if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t let me stay?"

Daemon’s voice softened, and he squeezed her hand. "My brother would be a fool not to like you. And even if he doesn’t let us stay…" He cupped her face, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Wherever I go, you go. I won’t leave you, Daella. You are my daughter.”

The stone floor chilled Daella's bare feet as she walked beside Daemon through the labyrinthine halls of the Red Keep. Servants and courtiers parted as they passed—some bowed their heads in respect, while others glanced up from beneath lowered brows, their gazes curious and probing. Whispers echoed faintly off the high stone walls, each hushed murmur a reminder of where they were headed.

Ahead loomed a pair of large wooden doors, intricate dragons carved deep into the wood. Voices—low and murmuring—could be heard from the other side. Two guards flanked the entrance, their armor polished to a gleam, the clink of metal filling the air as they shifted to allow them entry.

Daemon strode forward confidently, and Daella stayed close to his side, gripping his hand tightly. The hall they entered was vast, lined with lords and ladies on either side of a long aisle. Daella's heart pounded as she took in the scene. This wasn’t like Flea Bottom. The stares here felt heavier—sharper. Instinctively, she pressed herself closer to Daemon, seeking the comfort of his presence.

As they approached the Iron Throne, its looming figure became more defined. It was even more menacing up close, a monstrous heap of swords that jutted out in every direction, each one jagged and rusted, relics of conquest and war. Daella wondered how anyone could sit upon such a thing without being cut. Perhaps they were.

"How kind of you to finally join us, brother," King Viserys’s voice boomed through the hall, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He remained seated atop the throne, his fingers curled around the armrests as if he could keep his control over Daemon with just a touch.

Daemon halted at the bottom of the steps leading to the throne and inclined his head, though the gesture was far from deferential. "My king."

Daella’s eyes flicked between the two of them. Their smiles mirrored one another—on the surface, they appeared like brothers reunited—but there was something simmering beneath, a sharpness in their gazes that revealed a deeper tension. The King’s eyes settled on Daella, curiosity flickering in their depths, but his attention soon returned to Daemon.

The King rose, his expression guarded as he descended the steps. His robes trailed behind him like the shadows of a man weighed down by the weight of the crown. "You requested an audience, and now you have it," he said, his tone stiff. "So tell me, Daemon, what is it you seek this time?"

Daemon dropped to one knee, the move unexpected enough to draw a few gasps from the gathered crowd. "I come to ask for your forgiveness, brother." His voice was low but steady, and the surprise in Daella’s chest matched the confusion that briefly crossed Viserys’s face.

Viserys narrowed his eyes. "Forgiveness?" His gaze sharpened. "For what, exactly?"

"For my actions upon my last return," Daemon continued, rising slowly, pulling Daella up with him as he stood and tucking her close to his side. His voice carried through the hall, calculated yet proud. "And I wish to introduce someone to you."

Viserys’s attention shifted to Daella, his violet eyes narrowing as he studied her face. "I am pleased to see you have healed well, child," he said, though his tone was wary. "But how have you come to cling to my brother in the first place?"

Daemon didn’t hesitate. "This is my daughter, Daella." His voice was firm, the words echoing in the vast chamber. "I seek your permission to raise her here, as we were once raised."

A ripple of whispers spread through the room, and Daella buried her face against Daemon’s shoulder, trying to disappear from the weight of the stares. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of how far she was from the shadows of Flea Bottom.

Viserys’s brows furrowed, his confusion evident. "Your daughter?" he repeated, incredulous. "I was not aware you and Lady Rhea had a child."

Daemon’s gaze darkened, his tone hardening. "Daella is not of Lady Rhea." He leaned in closer to his brother, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, though it carried enough for the lords nearest to hear. "But look at her, brother. Look closely. Tell me you do not know whose blood runs through her veins."

The tension thickened as Viserys’s gaze returned to Daella, his scrutiny more intense now. His eyes traced her features—lingering on her violet eyes and the newly silvered waves of her hair. His breath hitched. Recognition flashed in his expression, quickly hidden behind a mask of composure. His hand reached out, gently tucking her hair behind her ear, as if seeing a ghost from another life.

"She looks just like her mother," he murmured, almost to himself, the words barely audible. His gaze softened, lost in memory.

The mention of her mother rendered Daella silent, surprise and confusion colliding within her. How do they all know her?

"How old are you, Daella?" Viserys asked, his tone gentler now, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Six," she replied quickly, before adding in a hurried whisper, "Your Grace."

Viserys smiled, a rare warmth touching his eyes. "You may call me uncle, dear child." His smile grew as he turned to the gathered crowd, lifting his hands to command the room’s attention. "Let us celebrate the welcoming of my niece, the Lady Daella Targaryen, into the family!"

There was a brief pause, the weight of the announcement settling over the crowd before the hall erupted in applause. Daella let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her eyes scanning the room. Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, one pair of purple eyes caught hers—the boy covered in dragon dust. A small smile pulled at his lips before he looked away, his face vanishing into the crowd.

Daella turned her gaze upward, finding Daemon already watching her with a look of pride. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against hers, a gesture that melted away the knot of anxiety that had twisted in her stomach all morning.

Perhaps she did belong. Perhaps she had a family after all.

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