#but then again like. looks at az and the weapon. how far IS too far indeed.

[lifehealed]

'well kou if amaryllis got her arms cut off why didnt xerneas just reattach them and heal them??'

now this is something ive been thinking about a lot today (since i want to write a drabble about xerneas saving her sometime during my weekend (brain permitting)) and ive narrowed it down to some ideas. one of which i am. not sure about because i dont know if it's too brutal or not?? and the other is just. i dont know if it makes any sense but we try!

one is that, maybe by the time xerneas discovered her, it wasn't feasible anymore. it wasn't multiple days though, and probably not even a few hours before they did find her. maybe an hour at the absolute most which would honestly be fine since iirc limb reattachment is usually successful as long as its within 4-8 hours?? or it may have been MORE taxing on xerneas to do this than to create her new arms, given xerneas used part of their own body/essence for it. or even maybe xerneas was SO focused on just. saving her (and repaying their debt bc the fae king being in debt to someone is :/). that they didn't even notice, especially given she was literal moments from death before xerneas arrived.

the other more fucked up option that i hate (but think is cool) is that they were taken as 'trophies' or as proof of her 'death', so xerneas had to create false arms for her instead. because imagine youre in this horrific war. and your enemy has this miracle healer that can heal both people and pokemon. that guy you stabbed in the stomach yesterday? guess what! he's back and he's fully healed. and he's ready to get your ass. AND he can be as reckless as he wants because as long as you dont actually kill him, he will be healed. and he will be back, again. and again. so having some sort of proof of this healer being dead, or at least proof she's unable to use her healing anymore... the morale boost would be HUGE, especially when high morale is incredibly important in a war when you're constantly risking your life and never know what day may be your last.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

The Clandestine Culinarian | Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel requires a deadly poison, and the only place he can get acquire it is through a bakery in Hewn City, and in the process grows closer to you, the owner of the shop, and is there for you when tragedy strikes.

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings: A lil bit of angst, mentions of blood, weapons, family death, nudity (taking bath), poisons, nothing explicit.

A/N: Got a little carried away with this, but I had a dream abt it so I think it’s the chosen one, hope you enjoy <3

Masterlist | Next

Requests are open!

Azriel found himself all ready for his newest mission, leathers on, Truth-Teller sharpened, siphons gleaming, however, there was just one thing he needed…

In truth, he hadn’t been surprised when Rhys asked him to take care of a group of Halflings that were lurking in what had been Hybern’s lands, attempting to create even a shadow of the power the fallen King had once possessed. Though Azriel could easily just slip in and slaughter all of them, Rhys advised him to exercise caution with this. Azriel was always cautious, silent as a mouse, moving in and out of the shadows at will.

Rhys didn’t want to have the blood of those Fae on his hands, and would rather have it seem like someone took them out quickly and quietly. And the way he wanted his Spymaster to carry this out? With volucrae, one of the deadliest poisons that had been discovered, and hidden.

“A single vial would cost a fortune, Rhys.”

He said, watching his High Lord closely. The poison cost a fortune for many reasons, as it had no scent, no taste, and didn’t cause any discoloration or effects to what you planted it in. It worked quickly, as well. Within minutes of consuming it, your body would start to shut down, and you would slip into death before you could even register what was happening. The only reason it was so rare was because the way to attain it was deadly.

“I’ve already done the math, you need one and a half vials to thoroughly poison their food supply.”

Rhys replied, his expression holding a look that said Azriel was not getting out of this, no matter what happened.

“Where would that even sell in this Court?”

He asked, though a part of him already knew the answer. The most wicked things were sold within the most hateful and wicked environment, which in this Court, was most likely..

“Hewn City.”

That didn’t surprise him, but what Rhys then said next had him very skeptical about anyone wielding the poison, let alone willing to sell it.

“There’s a bakery not too far from that brothel we visited once, a bit up the street and to the left. You’ll know it when you see it. When you get inside, tell the woman at the counter that you’re looking for a mulberry pie, but you’d like to adjust the flavoring.”

Rhys said, that annoying smirk on his face that said he knew he was right, that this would work, and that he could already see Az’s begrudgingly thankful look.

“Fine.”

Azriel said with a huff. Before he could even mention how he would pay for it, Rhys handed him a pouch of gold coins.

“Our secret.”

He said, before going back to the paperwork that sat in stacks in his office.

The shadowsinger stalked off, gathering his things before he went off to the balcony, and took off, headed to one of the places he’d prefer never having to look at again. Hewn City.

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

It was business as usual for you; baking up the pies and assisting your coworkers, who were only family if not the closest of family friends, as they worked the shop alongside you.

Not too many customers today, which wasn’t unusual, as Hewn City wasn’t exactly the most profitable place to put a bakery. The citizens here were exactly how they’d been her entire life, harsh, bitter, and hateful to the very end, and their taste in pastries reflected that so clearly it was almost funny.

However, a face she recognized walked in while she had taken a break from kneading dough to work the register. She could easily spot the shadows that shrouded his being and trailed behind and onto him in the shop. The shadowsinger, otherwise known as the Spymaster of Night Court.

She’d heard plenty of rumors about him, most, if not all being terrible awful things, but a customer was a customer, and judging by the fact that she assumed he wasn’t here for baked goods, a potential client was a potential client, no matter who they were.

“Welcome to Baked Goods, how can I help you today?”

You asked the man, with your customer voice and smile being worn. He seemed to scan over you for a moment, his gaze sharp and piercing, and intimidating, before he spoke.

“I’d like a mulberry pie, but I would like to adjust the flavoring.”

His dark, smooth voice replied. He hadn’t even glanced at the menu. We didn’t serve mulberry pie. That was your confirmation that he knew what he wanted and for the right price, he could get it.

“Sure, I can get that for you. What kind of flavoring are you looking for? Weaker tasting, smelling, we could even adjust how it looks if you’d like it.” Do you want it to be noticeable?

“The weakest flavoring you can find.” No.

This Spymaster caught onto the game fast, you’d admit. Then again, the High Lord had probably told him of it, as he occasionally came by for his favorite mulberry pie, just to keep you in order, as some of the local females looking to break free of their forced marriages also happened to like mulberry pie.

“I can take you back for you to see our selection if you’d like?” Do you want to see our collection and pick one out?

“Yes.” I’ll pick it.

And so, you led him around the counter and to the back of the bakery, and as you opened one of the cabinets that was empty, with remnants of flour in it. Reaching in, and using your hands to unlock a mechanism in the back of the wooden cabinet, the back of it came off and swung open like a door.

You walked inside, and he followed. It was an old stone passageway, stairs leading down, down, down, thick with humidity, their every sound echoing due to the cave system at the bottom of it.

After minutes of walking, they reached the bottom. It had shelves full of vials and bottles of all sorts of poisons, all undiluted and in any sort of form. He studied the wall a minute and then gestured to one of them. It was a bottle you hadn’t dared to sell in all the years you’d owned it. Hell, you had almost grown attached to the thing, like a little friend, always there, lurking and waiting inside the dark tunnels of this place.

“Volucrae?”

You asked him, studying him with suspicion and intrigue in your gaze. What could he possibly need that poison for? Sure, he was a Spymaster and a honed killer, but she wouldn’t give that away easily.

He gave a little nod, holding out a heavy pouch of pure gold coins. You took it, opened it, and counted the amount. It was more than enough, you would admit. Not looking too happy about it, you gave him the amount for his money, one full vial, and about one half.

And then you both walked out, gave him a cookie as a parting gift, and he was gone, just like that.

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

Azriel walked out of that ‘bakery’, wondering how Rhys knew about it, and why the hell he hadn’t shut it down yet. They were illegally selling poisons, possibly even trafficking them and buying them from someone. Problems for later, he reminded himself as he took a bite of the cookie he’d been given by the girl as he walked out.

The vials of valucrae were safely secured within a pocket, the glass was reinforced. Whoever had bottled it must’ve known exactly how deadly it was.

He had no idea how that girl or her shop had gotten her hands on that. To even make the poison was incredibly dangerous, first having to take down one of the ancient, cunning beasts that lived in the darkness of the Illyrian Steppes, using their blood and drying it, turning it into a fine powder, and storing it.

Nonetheless, he had a mission to get done.

And so, with a flap of his wings, his shadows trailing behind him, he set off for what had been Hybern’s lands. The mission was simple.

The lands were still scorched and covered in a certain heavy feeling, the remnants of the war and the mass destruction and carnage that had followed. The halflings were gathered in the center of the lands. They seemed to have congregated together in a group of around 25, having tents and temporary homes, a large campfire in the center, and one tent that his shadows whispered to him that held the food.

He crept up, opening the vials with a silent pop, and slipped into the tent. They all seemed to be asleep at this point. And with a flick and movement of his wrist, the poison was sprinkled into their daily rations, and after smoothing it into the wet meat. The flakes turned transparent as they got wet and just like that, they weren’t even noticeable anymore.

Cleaning his hands off religiously, and scrubbing it off of his hands, he then took off silently into the night, his large, leathery wings flapping as he went back home, to Velaris.

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

The shadowsinger had been visiting more than usual over the past few months, you realized, as you saw him coming into the shop again, another order of mulberry pie with adjusted flavoring, and you led him down to the ‘basement’ again.

The air of the stone passageway felt different this time, tense and dripping with something other than humidity.

The little drips that echoed through the stairway and the sounds of their feet hitting the stone were the only ones. Neither spoke. They reached the bottom eventually, where the familiar shelves with vials and bottles waited.

“What’ll it be this time, Azriel?”

You asked, one brow raised as you watched him. He was undeniably attractive, pretty, almost. His lean and muscular body, his golden hazel eyes, or his short, almost boyish style of black hair. His large, powerful wings, or the scarred hands that you had wondered many times what had happened, but never dared to ask.

He opened his mouth to speak, and that was when the entire world exploded.

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

Fire licking up his face and body was the first thing he processed, the second was Kier’s men at the top of the stairway, blood already dripping from their blades, the wooden cabinet’s secret door splintered into pieces and shoved open. His shadows writhed in agony.

With a glance towards the girl, he quickly realized that she didn’t seem surprised, or particularly shocked, but looked like a little bit of her died with every drip of the blood from the men’s swords onto the ground. She was very close with her coworkers, he had observed that immediately. They had been a team and some legitimate family that were just bakers working here.

“Follow me.”

She said, and before he could even draw Truth-Teller, she grabbed his arm and began running, dragging him at first, then leading him through the convoluted cave tunnels that were behind the bottom of the stairwell. She ran with a practiced ease through these caves, as if she’d done it many times before. As if she’d practiced running as if she’d known that Kier’s soldiers had been lurking around the corners of her shop and watching every customer a little too closely to just be a coincidence.

He didn’t have time to think about it as he heard some of the soldiers close behind. Some had gotten lost in the tunnels due to her winding through them.

Her voice didn’t waver, it was firm. Sad, but recognizing that this wasn’t the moment to grieve.

The tunnels winded down and up until even he could barely keep track of them, despite his centuries of practice memorizing the layouts of the most complicated structures. They soon surfaced on the edge of Hewn City, and without even thinking of the potential consequences of his actions, the political repercussions that they could cause, he grabbed her, scooped her up, and took off.

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

At least the adrenaline had kept her from thinking of the loss when you’d been running. Here, during this terrifying flight, you got plenty of time to think all about your family members who had been in that shop.

Your cousins, both willing to help just to have a job and get paid in the awful economy of Hewn City. Your uncle, just happy to be involved in the family, and also a male who hadn’t ever been able to explore his passion for baking, always told it wasn’t masculine. Or your sweet little niece, who had absolutely no idea what was happening at all, but was generally just happy to be there and spend time. Not to mention how many pastries the girl had snuck off of the shelves.

All gone.

You had seen the blood dripping off of that steel. You knew that Kier had been watching your shop a little while more than usual, and you’d practiced escape routes and alarm systems with the family and workers, but it had all fallen apart. They had been waiting for Azriel to arrive, you were sure of it.

You couldn’t stop the tears that welled up and fell as you were curled up against the shadowsinger’s chest while he flew, making her stomach churn. His shadows, cool and soothing against your skin, seemed to almost wipe your tears away, attempting to comfort you the best they could.

The colorful city of light came into view, Velaris, the city of starlight, she’d been told. It was beautiful, she’d admit. It felt like it was spitting in her face, taunting and mocking her for what her family hadn’t had the chance to see, and now wouldn’t ever get the chance to see. Azriel went to a specific house overlooking a large river, The Sidra, his shadows whispered to you, their voices thin and quiet, barely more than a whisper. It seemed to be a townhouse, a beautiful one at that, he arrived at.

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

Azriel landed, and slowly set you on your feet. You looked very unsteady and probably about to throw up. That was a common reaction from someone’s first time flying, assuming it was your first flight ever. He couldn’t imagine any other male flying you around, knowing it would never happen, but even the thought of it sent a little pang of jealousy that he knew wasn’t appropriate through his mind.

“Rhys’ and Feyre’s home. You’ll be staying here.”

He said simply, his voice firm but not empathetic. The tears had mostly stopped, but as soon as he guided the female inside, only to meet a concerned and curious Rhys sitting on the couch with Feyre, who looked equally confused, it started back up again.

She managed to give a basic explanation between tears, and he filled in any details Rhys asked for that she couldn’t or wouldn’t provide.

“You can stay here until we find a solution, and definitely until things calm down. I’ll…talk to Kier.”

Rhys reassured her, eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed Azriel’s hand around the female’s waist. He shared a glance with Feyre, a little too long for his comfort, before giving Azriel a nod. He was to take the poor thing to a room, and most likely console her. He wasn’t too great at the latter, he thought.

His mission was complete, but at what cost?

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

You had met the High Lord before, but never his Inner Circle other than Azriel. He led her to a spare bedroom in the townhouse, leading her inside and closing the door behind her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He asked. His voice was calm and deep as it had always been, but filled with a sort of sorrow that told you he’d lost many people close to him as well. He knew your pain.

“I don’t know, I just…they’d still be here if I hadn’t..”

You stammered out, before words turned into choked sobs, and choked sobs turned into him sitting beside her on the bed as you wept into his chest. His warm, scarred hands rubbing your back soothingly as you cried.

You cried until you couldn’t anymore until the loss consumed her so wholly that it was a black pit you couldn’t crawl out of.

“It’s not your fault. Kier gave the order to murder them, not you.”

An order he would make Kier pay for, even if he got himself killed in the process.

“Take a bath. It’ll help.”

He said, and you knew he was right. A bath might help. You managed to get up and stumble over to the bathroom, starting a warm bath, and peeling off your clothing before settling into the water. You barely managed to rub some shampoo into your hair before scrubbing it back out.

You sat in that tub for a while, sitting and thinking, reminiscing about your family, grieving all you could for them. Maybe a little too long. Before you knew it, you had slipped into unconsciousness.

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

Azriel had waited for almost two hours for you to come out of the tub now. He would admit that he felt more than a little creepy just waiting, but he felt it was necessary, as something deeply instilled in him told him to stay, and to wait to make sure you were okay.

He didn’t know when he’d suddenly become so protective over you, it had crept up on him until he hadn’t even realized how much he wanted to shred Kier’s men to pieces for upsetting you and threatening you.

When you hadn’t come out and almost two hours and thirty minutes had passed, he cracked open the bathroom door, only to find you fully asleep and naked in the bathtub. It felt wrong, looking at you while vulnerable, and so he closed his eyes and let his shadows guide him as they helped pick you up.

The shadows, doing what he willed, dried you off, before slipping some clothes on you that were fresh spares. He laid you in the bed, tucking you in.

He stayed there longer than he’d like to admit, watching you peacefully sleep, and for some odd reason, his shadows wouldn’t let him leave the room. They tugged him to a nearby armchair, and using the shadows as an excuse, he fell asleep a few hours later while watching over you.

The shadows seemed to not want to leave your side.

Almost as if they knew something he didn’t.

Part 2

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Little soldier

requested: Hmm how about a little one bed thrope with Az or Eris?

a/n this is my first ever smut so go easy on me I beg you. I hope this is at least decent. Enjoy...

warning: smut, kids stay away!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were tired, barely managing to lift your legs off the ground as you and Azriel approached some dodgy-looking taverna. But by this point, you were willing to sleep in a horse stable between shit if it meant finally getting a chance to lie down and find shelter from the freezing wind. You two were dragged on another idiotic mission together that involved you batting your eyelashes at different lords, trying to gather information about what Hybern was planning and Azriel... Well, Azriel was also there. The tension between the two of you was through the roof the moment you left. If you could handle one another while being at Velaris, all sensible grown-up decency would disappear the moment you two needed to achieve one mutual goal together. You glamoured Azriel's wings before he let you through the hardly hanging doors.

It stank of alcohol and drunk males, who all stared at you as if you were a fresh piece of meat. You stormed towards the front desk, Azriel close behind, giving every single male who looked at you in any disrespectful way a death glare that was probably scarier than a life sentence in prison.

Luck escaped you here as well since they only had one room, meaning you two would have to share, but at least the owner promised two beds, and since you weren't in the mood to see any of them, you just snatched the key out of his hands before heading towards the second floor where your room was supposed to be.

You froze the moment you opened the door. In the middle of the room stood one bed, not to mention that it looked so small that two people could hardly sleep on it. You quickly took the rest of the room in. Maybe the second bed was hidden somewhere.

"Great, and no door in the bathroom as well," Azriel chuckled before placing some of his weapons on the small desk in the far left corner of the room. You pointed your finger at him, "Don't say anything", his eyes glazed over with some unreadable emotion, and before he could say anything, you pointed your finger at him yet again, "Don't you dare say anything." With another laugh, Azriel lifted his hands in the air defensively.

"Mother hates me, she hates me," you grumbled, running your fingers through your hair. "Stop being such a baby", "I'm not being a baby, I just have no interest in sharing a room with you". You thought long and hard about going back down to ask for another room or at least to get some of your money back. But the thought of going back to all of these piss-drunk males sent a chill down your spine.

"Now, you listen. I'm tired and feel like a pig...", "Smell like one too", you gaped at him before flipping him off with a vulgar gesture. "I'm going to take a bath, and you will sit in that corner and won't move until I'm done." Since Azriel was equally as exhausted, he said nothing. Taking a chair in his hands before sitting down back facing the bathroom, reaching to clean his daggers one by one. You looked at him without moving for a moment. Just to make sure that he wasn't going to suddenly decide to turn around. And when he softly started humming under his breath you knew that nothing that was going on in the shadow seemed intriguing to him.

So you stripped your damp clothes off. The room was cold, especially the floor, and yet another shiver ran through your body. It's going to be okay, you told yourself; a hot shower will solve all of your problems. So you turned the tap on without a second thought, aiming it towards your body.

"Fuck! Mother! Shit!", Azriel came to a halt as your screams echoed throughout the room, "You're okay?" You couldn't have fallen because he would have heard it. But something must have happened if you were yelling like that. "I'm going to start crying," you whined, and Azriel was about to turn your way, "There's no warm water," you cried out, yelping as the cold water nibbled at your skin. Azriel couldn't help but admire your features when you emerged from the shower, tossing your damp clothes near the fireplace. Your bare legs; your shoulder blades. You always took his breath away without even trying. Azriel offered to fetch you some dinner as you shivered away. The wet hair not helping the case one bit.

"I'll sleep on the floor tonight," he said while you two were finishing up your food. A part of you wanted to offer him to come to bed with you, but then again, the thought of sharing a bed sent another quiver down your spine. So you simply nodded your head before moving to slip between the sheets.

Once the fire died down, you could feel your bones trembling as your body shook. You were sure that Azriel was fast asleep. Or at least, from the lack of sounds coming from his side, it seemed like it. But then you heard the floor creaking, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was standing right in front of you.

"What do you think you're doing?", you choked out, gripping the sheets even tighter around your body. "Coming to warm you," Azriel tried to take a corner of the blanket from you, but you smacked his hand away.

"Yeah, no", "Yeah yes, because if you die here Rhys will kill me", Azriel reached for the end of the blanker yanking it all off your body, leaving you in only one of the big shirts that were brought to you by the owner. "I don't care," you grumbled, trying hard not to let your teeth clack against one another. "Well, I do; scoot over."

Your eyes fell on Azriel's naked torso. You admired him a lot from afar, never trusting yourself to get closer because you might start drooling. But now that you'd seen him standing half-naked in the dim room, your mind was racing. "Done staring?", Azriel asked, cocking his head, and you snapped your eyes back up. "I'm not staring; we just won't fit. This is tiny, and you are huge." A smirk painted the shadow singer's lips, "You think I'm huge?". You would have argued if not for the blush that crept onto your cheeks. Nesta and Feyre said that Azriel had the biggest wings span, and if that was true then, yes he was huge... but you shook your head quickly, scooting to the side of the bed, "I don't think anything".

The moment his warm skin brushed against yours, you couldn't help but let out a moan. Shameless. But you couldn't help yourself. Even if you tried not to touch him, you couldn't. Turning to face him as you moved closer and closer to him. You wriggled in his embrace until almost all of your exposed skin was in contact with the spymaster's warmth, and you couldn't help but moan again from sheer delight.

Azriel cleared his throat, and said, "I love the sounds, but fuck," feeling him sift beneath you. One of his hands slipped beneath the sheets, and your gaze was drawn to its movement from beneath the blanket. As the realization sank in, your eyes widen.

"Are you...", you muttered quietly, your hand now moving down his exposed skin and onto his chest. "Don't start something you won't finish," he told you, but you only smirked at him before shimmying even closer to him. "I intend to finish, don't worry," you purred into his ear. You weren't sure what got into you. Sure, you found him attractive. The feeling was mutual; you knew that because you two had made out multiple times in Rhys's wine cellar. Made out but never went any further.

"Y/N," Azriel warned you one last time, but your hand was already slipping down his chiseled abs as you slowly traced your finger over his v-line before dipping your fingers into the loose pants that he was wearing. Your eyes didn't leave the shadow singer's face even for a moment as you stroked his length in your hand. "Fuck," he said quietly, and the confidence inside you boosted even more, so you leaned in to press kisses all over his chest, nibbling on his skin here and there. Your movements were awfully slow. Way too slowly for Azriel's liking. "Don't tease, my dear, because I doubt you'll be able to handle what comes after such behavior," that only had you smiling innocently, "And what would that be?"

With a grown Azriel flipping the two of you over, your arms wrapped around his neck in an instant, "I don't think you want to know," "Try me," that was all it took for Azriel to smash his lips to yours. It was careless and sloppy while you two roamed each other's bodies. You didn't want to think about the consequences. That was tomorrow's problem. All you wanted now was Azriel. Through the messy kissing, you moved to push his pants off, hand once again moving to pump him a couple of times. 

"Are you sure?", Gods, this male was both the devil and an angel. "Shut up and just fuck me." Azriel didn't need to be told twice. He rubbed his cock against your folds a few times before slowly thrusting into you. The way you clenched around his cock drove Azriel insane and if this wasn't some shabby side rode taverna that probably would all fall if he unleashed all of his sexual energy he would be fucking you way harder. 

"You're so fucking warm and tight," Azriel rasped into your ear, making you let out yet another gasp. You arched your back; the places inside you that he was reaching already had you seeing stars. But you wanted more; it's like even now you don't feel close enough to the shadow singer.

"Fuck me harder, oh fuck.. Az", and Azriel knows that he shouldn't but he couldn't help it, bending his head so he could see the way his dick is being swallowed by your pussy. Every inch of him, from the base of his cock to his balls slapping against your skin. Gods, why hadn't he done this sooner? You let out yet another unholy cry, and as you claw at his back, his movement only increases, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

"You feel so good. I can't help myself," "Please, I want you deeper," you were a mess beneath him, but you had never looked more beautiful to him, "Yeah, you want that? You think you deserve it?" Azriel dipped down, biting onto your collarbones, causing you to hardly be able to mewl back, "Please, take me from behind."

Azriel flipped you over in an instant. The emptiness he left behind almost made you want to cry. He was truly blessed with the way your ass was in the air for him in an instant and the way you looked back at him with your already fucked-out features.

So Azriel slipped back in with ease, the wetness welcoming him once again. And with one thrust, he was back in your paradise. The new angle got him surely poking at your cervix, as he claimed you with close to no self-control, "Fuck Az, you fuck me so good", you cried through gritted teeth. Azriel gripped your hips even tighter, and you were sure that even with your fea healing, there would be marks painting your skin tomorrow.

"Is this what you wanted?", the shadow singer cooed at you as your finger tore through the sheets. You couldn't even say anything anymore, only nod. So thankful that he did not drag a verbal answer out of you because you couldn't speak. You knew no words besides his name. One of Azriel's hands reached for your breast, twirling your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

"I'm... I'm so..", you cried out as he once again hit a sensitive spot deep inside you, "I know. I can feel it, baby; come for me, little girl." You can feel him trying to move out of you so he could finish you off with only his fingers, but you only clench around him tighter, not letting him slip out of you just yet.

"Cum inside me, please. Cum inside me," you pleaded shamelessly. Azriel's eyes got big, but his movement stayed as sharp as the drill he used on you. "Are you sure?", he knew that you took a contraceptive tonic regularly, but this... He didn't want to cross the line, even if his mind was elsewhere.

"Yes, yes, gods fill me up", and that's all it takes for him to pick up the pace just a little, and with a couple of last strokes, you can feel him pulsating inside you, the feeling of him filling you sends you over the edge as well as you moan out his name. Shattering pleasure overtakes you, and for a moment you feel like you're a part of the outer world. Legs shaking as he slips out of you, the sight of his cum and your juices dripping out of your wrecked pussy enough to make him want to go again. Both of you too lazy to move, so you just lay there, trying to catch your breath, and the moment your eyes meet, you two fall into fits of laughter.

Azriel moves to lie down on his back before bringing you closer to him. "You're okay?", he asks softly, pushing some of your hair behind your ear. "More than okay," you hum in response, getting lost in that blissful look on the spymaster's face.

You drape one of your legs across his torso before pulling yourself up to lie on top of him. Azriel only watches you as you smirk to yourself before he feels you once again lowering yourself onto his still semi-hard cock. "What are you doing?", he asks, and you flash him a mischievous smile, "Keeping the little soldier warm. We can't lose him in this brisk weather", you feel his chest moving with a laugh as he studies your face, "You're out of this world", "Yeah, I think you told me that just minutes ago".

Azriel just shook his head, still laughing, as he wrapped his arms and wings around you. Kissing your forehead one more time before sleep takes you both back to the dream world. Maybe one bed wasn't such a bad idea.

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

“No,” Azriel moaned, thrashing beside her. Gwyn blinked, eyes adjusting to the inky darkness swirling around her. “Don’t touch me.”

“Az?” she whispered, rolling to her back. It took her a moment to truly see him, but there he was, prone and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. This, she realized, was a nightmare. “Az, wake up.”

He didn’t, mumbling something unintelligible. His shadows swarmed around him, lethal and vicious as they blotted out any light that might have slipped from the open window. 

Reaching carefully through that fog, Gwyn didn’t hesitate. They wouldn’t hurt her, of that she was certain. Azriel, on the other hand? Well, the moment her hand touched his bare chest, he had her on her back again, wrists pinned over her head.

She blew him back, calling up magic before she could truly think about what she was doing. The momentary panic of being restrained was overridden by the knowledge that no one could ever hurt her again. Azriel groaned, slamming through the closed door in a shower of splinters. 

“Fuck,” she heard him mumble. Gwyn swallowed, sitting up in bed as Azriel clambered over the ruined wood to stare her down. He looked like a demon in the dark, eyes glowing gold in the moonlight. Shadows swarmed over his shoulders and though Azriel wore nothing but a pair of sleep shorts, his weapon closer to her reach than his own, Gwyn thought even battle hardened warriors would have cowered beneath that stare.

She met his gaze. “Don’t put your hands on me,” she whispered, hoping she sounded just as lethal as he looked. 

“Did it feel good?” he questioned, cocking his head like a curious cat. “Knowing you could best me?”

Gwyn nearly groaned in irritation. Of course he’d circle right back to training. All he’d seen was that she could take him, which meant he’d been twice as punishing the next time they were on that little island. 

“Answer me,” he ordered, the words laced with some twisting, pulse of magic.

“Yes,” she breathed through clenched teeth. Azriel’s smile was lethal as he prowled back to the bed, ignoring the scent of blood coming from somewhere on his skin. The coppery, salty tang in the air was doing something to her, though. Arousal bolted through her like a lance, rich and warm until Gwyn thought she might have licked it from him if she could have found the source. Instead, she pressed her thighs together, determined to keep him from realizing what was happening to her. 

“I’m far more powerful than most males,” he reminded her, determined to turn everything into a lesson. 

“Yes, Azriel,” she agreed, yanking the blanket back over her body. Maybe she should have gone back to her bed—it was too late for it, now. Azriel had her back pinned to his chest, nose back in her hair. If she was lucky, he’d fall right back into sleep without noticing a thing. “Go to bed.”

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered and she knew he smelled it, then. Gwyn wanted it, too, just as much as she knew letting him lose himself this way wasn’t helpful to either of them. She wouldn’t be the salve to this wound just as he refused to be the same for her.

Gwyn rolled onto her back and when he tried to kiss her, she turned her head. “Tell me about the dream, Az.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed, pain lacing her name. 

“I think I deserve to know. After…after everything we’ve been through,” she added, hating how her voice warbled. She was starting to care about him and in that moment, she wondered if maybe it was just one sided. Unreciprocated. If she’d just become another job to him, duty bound to help because that was the role he’d assigned himself. 

She wasn’t going to beg him. Stomach churning with anxiety, skin suddenly cold, Gwyn swore she’d walk away if he denied her. There would be distance between them again. Polite, but firm. No more kissing, or touching, or the emotional vulnerability she’d been pouring into him.

But in her mind, she pleaded with him all the same. Please.

“In the first war, Rhys’s father separated us,” Azriel said after an agonizing wait. Rolling onto his stomach, he tucked his wings tight against him, his tell for when he was preparing for a fight.

“Rhys led a regiment and Cassian was relegated as a mere footsoldier on the front lines. And I…I became his spy. He never cared much about the freedom of humanity—his interests lay in protecting his home and the commerce coming in and out of Night. He made a lot of decisions that wiped whole human settlements off the face of the map and he did it without concern or care. They were animals to him, but freeing himself of Hybern would enrich him, and he had long stopped utilizing slaves. They were too hard to trust.”

Gwyn didn’t say a word, didn’t dare to even touch him.

“Rhys doesn’t know, but I was spying on him back then, too. Sometimes I think…I think his father half hoped Rhys might die. He wanted Cassian to, too. He saw how powerful we were together and it was a threat to him. And when Rhys was captured, I…I was told to ignore it. He directed troops elsewhere.”

“Az…”

“I knew Tamlin’s father was preparing an attack against the High Lord. I’d learned of it months before. Rhys had taught me to guard my mind against his kind and so when the High Lord would pull into my thoughts, I’d push everything else to the forefront but I guarded that secret like a lifeline. I didn’t know what they planned, exactly. Only that a trap had been sprung, and that Tamlin was integral to it.”

Gwyn wasn’t breathing at all, listening to this confession in the dark,

“I didn’t know Rhys had told Tamlin where the Lady and princess were going. That he was meeting them. And when I found out—”

Azriel sucked in a jagged breath. “It was too late, then. I got what I wanted. Tamlin slaughtered Rhys’s father, and Rhys, Cassian, and I were reunited. And I’ve never told him that I could have stopped it if I wanted to. That I…that I let his mother and sister die because I wanted to escape his father.”

“Az—”

“Don’t you dare try and make this right—”

“Shut up,” she hissed, grabbing his hand before he could stop her. “Don’t you tell me what to say. You didn’t do anything. That lies on the men who killed two innocent females in the middle of a war. You can’t…gods, Azriel, you can’t blame yourself for what other people did.”

“But if I had told him—”

“What if? What if you had? You still wouldn’t have known Rhys told Tamlin about his mother, and you wouldn’t have been able to stop them from killing her. You can’t…it’s not your fault.”

“I dream about them all the time. She was like my own mother. She took me in. And Rhys’s sister was so little. A girl. She had wings—not like Rhys’s, but actual Illyrian wings and we might have had an Illyrian princess on the throne. I think, sometimes, what she might have done if she’d lived. How she could have changed things and I took that from everyone and they must hate me so much for it—”

Gwyn reached for him, sitting up just enough that he could bury his face in her lap. He didn’t cry, though his breath came in great, gulping pants. “You should hate me.”

“I couldn’t hate you if I wanted to,” she admitted, running her fingers through his hair. “And neither would Rhys. Or his mother, for that matter. No one would, Azriel. You were in an impossible situation, but killing the ladies of the seven courts is a war crime that doesn’t belong on your shoulders. You were his prisoner.” 

“I dream about them all the time. Bloodied and alone. Afraid. I wish I could have changed it. I would have served him a thousand years to prevent that.”

Gwyn leaned forward, kissing his scalp. “Their deaths are not on you. You don’t get to claim them, Az. That burden belongs to another High Lord, who is long dead and can’t atone, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Look at me. Az, please. Look at me.”

He looked up, eyes glowing gold in the dark. They were suspiciously wet and glassy, but no tears. She almost wished he would give himself permission to wholly feel everything rumbling through him. 

“Tell me that you know that.”

He pressed his lips together and Gwyn fought back the urge to laugh at him. “Stubborn,” she chided, brushing her fingers over his soft mouth. “But I know what you would say if I was in your lap, blaming myself for things I couldn’t control.”

“What would I say?” he asked hoarsely, his expression a mix of yearning and desperation.

“To forgive myself,” she murmured, wishing now that she’d let him kiss her. Next time she swore she wouldn’t deny him. “That I wasn’t to blame for other people's cruelty.”

“That’s different. You’re so…and I’m…”

“We’re the same,” she insisted, holding his face gently in her palm. “You see it so clearly when its me, just as I’m starting to think I see it so much better when it's you. And maybe…maybe it was the Mother who brought us here. Maybe she’s tired of seeing you suffer, Azriel. It’s been five hundred years of torment. And I think, as her avatar on this plane, that I speak for her when I say that she’d like to see you smile again. Really smile.”

His eyes were so big, so filled with unguarded hope that Gwyn felt her heart break a little. “Yeah?”

In truth, Gwyn hadn’t tried to speak to the Mother in years. Not since Catrin died. It seemed almost like betrayal to agree to it now, and yet she thought she would for Azriel. That she had to. Something soft thrummed in her chest, humming with approval. That was the goddess then, clearly delighted that Gwyn would try again. 

It's not devotion to you, Gwyn thought quickly, as if it mattered.

Because the truth was far more terrifying. 

It was devotion to him.

AZRIEL:

“Are you busy?”

Gwyn looked up from her book, scribbling notes in the margins with ink stained fingers. She’d tied her hair off her face messily, the ribbon coming loose. Her dress was rumpled from sitting in the same position for too long and Azriel was fairly certain she’d never looked lovelier. 

He ached to touch her. Had been thinking of a million different excuses to sweep her up in her arms and take her flying far from this palace. Time was ticking down. A week, and then he’d take her back to Velaris and an uncertain future that terrified him. He still didn’t know entirely where they stood or what she even wanted from him.

And he was half certain she was going to realize she could do better and that he was just as broken as he kept trying to tell her he was, and she’d go running. 

Right then, though, Gwyn’s eyes snapped to his face. “I could take a break,” she admitted, stretching her neck. 

“C’mon,” he said, offering her his hand. Any excuse to touch her. To pull her close. To take them far away from this miserable, fetid palace that grated against his senses. Kai still hadn’t returned and if Azriel was lucky, he never would. He enjoyed not having competition for Gwyn’s time and attention, and none of the courtiers paid them any mind anymore.

All he was waiting on was a report from the shadow he’d sent to Koschei’s lake to give to Rhys and then he was free, too. Montessere was strange, but whatever was going on here wasn’t his problem. 

Gwyn followed him out to the balcony, squealing quietly when he swept her up into his arms without warning or preamble and kicked off the ground. It felt good to stretch his wings, to be airborne with the sun on his face and his mate clinging to his neck.

“Dramatic,” he teased, lips against her temple.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused.

“Are you suggesting I didn’t warn you so a beautiful female would press herself against me?” he joked in return, letting her see him smile. Gwyn’s expression softened, though he knew better than to try it twice in a row. He was certain she had a knife hidden somewhere on her person, besides. 

“Flirt,” she retorted. No one had ever said that to him. Azriel huffed out a laugh. Everything was just easy with her. It was easy to let his guard down, to tell her the truth. And after the night they’d shared, where he’d admitted one of the things that haunted him and she’d been so understanding, he wanted more. Wanted all of her. Every little piece. Every smile, every laugh, every scowl. He wanted an eternity of her sass, of her pretty, dark hair and those jewel bright eyes.

Even if he didn’t yet believe he deserved it, he still wanted it. He thought he could spend a lifetime proving to Gwyn and the Mother that he deserved her, too. He could earn his mate by taking care of her…which, he had begun to suspect, meant taking care of himself, too. They were broken and carefully piecing the other back together. 

The words he wanted to say burned in his throat, trying so hard to claw their way out. I love you, I love you, I love you—

He swallowed the impulse. Not yet. Not now. Not until he was certain that wasn’t just the mating bond talking, and definitely not before he knew where they stood. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” he said, soaring over the open sea until the palace was merely a pinprick in the distance. Wind kissed his wings, the world melting away until he thought they were the last two people in it. 

“Don’t you get tired?” she questioned, peering around him to look down at the sparkling water below. 

“No,” he scoffed, though he did let himself drop just a little so Gwyn would scramble again and wrap her legs around his torso.

“Prick!” she accused, swatting at his chest while Azriel howled with laughter. 

“I told you I was trying to get close to a beautiful female,” he managed through gasps, wiping the tears streaming from his eyes on his shoulder. “It’s not my fault you’re too busy ogling me to listen to me talk.”

“What has gotten into you today?” she asked, a smile spreading over her face. 

He only shrugged. Azriel felt light today. Easy. He said, “I’m happy.”

Gwyn looked at him, eyes bouncing back forth between his own as if looking for some hint of dishonesty. “It looks good on you, shadowsinger.”

“It’s your doing,” he admitted, pressing his mouth against her own. He’d imagined this moment before—holding her against his body, wings spread wide with nothing but the open air around them. He wondered, briefly, if this was the kind of simple joy his brothers had found. There was nothing like flying in the entire world. It was, at times, the only freedom he’d ever had. But flying with his mate wrapped around him, kissing her with no one but the gods themselves as a witness, well. That was bliss. 

And he was happy. Happy in a way he’d never been in his entire life. Azriel was starting to believe that he could have her and it wouldn’t need to be complicated or end in disaster. He was also starting to think that she could love him too and he would be worthy of it. 

Azriel deepened the kiss, swallowing the urge to moan when she sighed softly against his lips. She was sweet, fingers digging against his shoulders. Azriel left his hands drift down her spine until he cupped her ass, pressing her firmly against him so she could feel his erection. There was, probably, some mechanics to having her in flight that his people knew but was a mystery to him, even if the thought thrilled him.

That didn’t stop him from kissing her, drifting lazily in the sky so he could have this moment with her. In the back of his mind, he was well aware he was taking them back to the palace and that what he wanted was to rip that dress off her and bury himself so deep inside her that she felt nothing but him.

Azriel wanted her to feel their shared soul, and couldn’t figure out another way to bring it to her awareness. Gwyn was, of course, blissfully unaware of this. She arched her neck for him when he trailed his mouth down her throat, eyes open so he could see her hair streaming behind her, face glowing in the sunlight. She was so absurdly beautiful he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. 

She was his just as surely as he was hers. Did she even realize? Azriel wanted to lay himself at her feet, to swear himself into her service and hers alone. Gods, but Azriel needed to tell her everything. Was he a male who prided himself on keeping secrets?

Not this one, he thought. It was killing him to keep it to himself. Even as he buried his face between her breasts, hands kneading her ass until she began rubbing herself against him, Azriel was convincing himself to just tell her everything. Lay it all out there, remove this final secret between them.

No more lies. 

Only the truth.

Azriel’s feet collided with the balcony. “Gwyn, I need—”

“I know,” she breathed, sliding down his body only to rise up on her tiptoes, fingers pulling at the laces of his tunic. “So do I.” What?

Azriel’s mind emptied of all thoughts the moment heard her say those words, unable to process, let alone comprehend. All he knew was her tongue in his mouth, her fingers pulling until she had his shirt on the ground, palms rubbing up and down his torso. Those same fingers slipped into the band of his pants and Azriel didn’t do a damn thing to stop her.

She wanted him.

It could wait, he decided, pushing the two of them into their shared room. Fuck, but it could wait until he finished. And maybe he’d get lucky and she’d feel it too, she’d tell him and he could pretend he was just now learning. A small deception in the scheme of things, one they’d laugh about in a century when everything was well established between them.

Or, she’d at least accepted the bond. 

“I want you,” he whispered, teeth sinking against her bottom lip as. Gwyn moaned, hand gripping the base of his cock. “I want you so fucking bad, I—”

“Well isn’t this cute,” an all too familiar voice sneered from another part of the room.  Azriel and Gwyn froze, heads whipping to the side. Hot fury burned through Azriel, made all the worse by the threat to his mate. 

Though he never needed a reason to want to rip apart Eris fucking Vanserra.

The Autumn Court male strolled into full view, hands in his pockets and a smirk on his exceptionally punchable face. 

“Who knew Night Court politics were so sensual? Rhysand certainly undersold what you two were doing here.”

“Get out,” Azriel whispered, swallowing the urge to remove Eris’s head from his body. They weren’t in Prythian. He didn’t need to abide by their laws. If Eris died here, well…whoops. 

“Come now,” Eris crooned, eyes sliding to Gwyn. Azriel’s wings flared, wanting to hide her from view. He caught the shifting look on Eris’s face, nostrils flared and then the delight as he realized what Gwyn hadn’t yet. 

No.

Gwyn didn’t say a word, eyes never leaving the male before them. Eris had Azriel captive now and he must have known it.

“We have a lot to catch up on. Meet me in the dining hall in ten minutes.”

He turned, having given his order, and left without another word or glance backward. Azriel couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. 

He knew right then and there that he was so utterly and absolutely fucked.

[foreverrandomwritings]

Alliance Maker-Chapter 2

Summary:Recovering from your wounds takes a while. Luckily you have Nesta to look over you.

Pairing:Slow Burn!Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings:Wounds, weapons, murder, sexual assault(blink and you'll miss it), alcochol, blood, stitches and curse words.

Word count:2053

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had taken you six days to wake up after being placed in one of the guest rooms in the house of wind. The wound to your abdomen had been deep. Three long angry bloodied gashes. Madja did her best to heal some of it but in the end had to stitch it up. The healer stayed monitoring for improvements or setbacks the first day. Nesta was by your bed side as you lay unmoving. Feyre was the only one allowed inside the room other than Madja. 

“Rhysand listen to me. We will be safe I promise. Go and help Elain watch after Nyx. I will be back down in just a couple of hours.” Feyre had said, finally coaxing the male out of the room. 

Standing right outside the room Rhysand had however once again tried to enter your mind but was met with the same inferno of flames and screams as before. His head throbbed like it had been burnt. He had sent Azriel in to see if maybe his shadows could pick up anything. Nesta had refused to let him inside the room. So as he stood in the hallway he sent the eager shadows slipping under the door towards your bed. They swept across the floors and walls hastily, desperately trying to reach your frozen form. But they had pulled back as soon as they touched your skin. Like they too had been burnt. Nesta had also scolded him for what he did.

“I told you to stay the fuck out of this room. That meant your shadows too. I don’t know what happened to them but that’s a mercy compared to what I would’ve done.” She had shouted at him in the doorway of the room after having flung the door open. Cassian, who had heard the commotion from inside their shared room not far from your own, wandered into the hall. 

“Az, just go to your room. I’ll talk to her.” He had to pull her back from jumping at his brother. The shawdowsinger rolled his eyes before roaming off to his room. She quickly steeled herself before shrugging Cassian off her and slipped back into the room. 

“Nesta, can you please come out here so we can talk?” The illyrian knew the likelihood of that was slim to none but still figured he’d ask. The only response was silence so he left her alone to go back to a lonely room. Sleeping in a bed without his mate had left him restless. He had been trying to understand what was going on with her but knew that prying wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

They were at a loss on how to get anything from you especially with Nesta protecting you like a guard dog. She stayed by you day and night. Sleeping in a chair next to your bed. She changed your bandages as Madja instructed. It was on the third day that things took an odd turn. Nesta had been reading you a book and eating the roast and potatoes the house had given her when she smelled something in the air. As she sniffed again she finally figured out what the smell was. It was something burning. 

Her eyes whipped around the room quickly seeing if the house had lit a candle or a fire in the hearth. But she found not a flame in sight. Her eyes then snapped to you. Laying on the bed perfectly still you had smoke radiating from your body. 

She quickly jumped into action, the house sending her buckets and buckets of ice as she poured them all over your body and the bed. As the smoke cleared she shouted for her sister in her head. Minutes that felt like hours passed before Feyre was in the room with her. She could hear Rhysand outside begging to be let in. But Feyre insisted they were safe. 

“Just let me in. Maybe I can help.” The High Lord pleaded from the other side of the door. He hated the thought of his mate, his high lady, the mother of his child being in a room with a stranger. He hadn’t wanted you in Velaris in the first place. But he knew he still owed Nesta for the life she helped bring into this world. He would never be able to fully thank her for Nyx. He also knew he could trust his mates' judgment. 

Feyre looked at her sister asking her silently if she could let him in but the cold look in Nesta’s eyes had her thinking better of it. So Feyre sent Rhysand to go and fetch Madja while the sisters talked. She asked the eldest sister what exactly happened but she didn’t have a good answer, just that there was smoke coming from your body. Once Madja arrived she gave you a thorough exam. Coming up empty as to why you were smoking.

“I’m so sorry, High Lady, I have never seen a case like this before. I haven’t an idea what to do about this other than the ice if it’s working.” She exclaimed hesitantly, staring at your body. You were proving to be one of the most peculiar cases she's ever seen.  

“That’s alright Madja, thank you so much for coming.” Feyre reassured the healer with a comforting smile adorning her features. 

On the fourth day Lucien arrived as a favor to the High Lady. Because who better to explain someone suddenly radiating smoke then a fire wielder themselves. Nesta let him in the room but watched him closely. Snarling through her teeth when his hand got too close to you. He backed up quickly before he finally spoke up. 

“She has fire coursing through her veins. It’s similar to the fire in mine yet different. It’s hard to explain. It’s almost like it’s fighting to keep something at bay.” The red haired emissary told the two sisters a hint of doubt in his voice. Nesta went to spit an insult his way but was met with a glare from Feyre. 

“Thank you for your help Lucien. We know more than we knew yesterday so that’s a good thing. Right Nesta?” The youngest sister spoke with authority in her voice as her glare sharpened upon looking at her sister. 

“Sure whatever now get the fuck out.” Was Nestas curt reply as she turned back to your bedside. He just shared a look with Feyre as she nodded at him, before quickly exiting the room. 

“Nesta there was no need to behave like that. He gave us information that we didn’t have. He helped us. I expect you to apologize next time you see him.” Feyre scolded her sister. 

“Are you ordering me as my High Lady or suggesting me as my sister?” Nesta spat out, wincing slightly at the tone of her voice. 

“I’m suggesting you give him a break as your sister.” Feyre softly spoke, a small seed of regret forming in her stomach. She hadn’t an idea why her sister was so attached to the female lying on the bed. But Nesta only ever cared for few so openly so she decided to stop pressuring her sister. 

The fifth day Madja returned and gave the all clear on bathing you as your skin had cooled. So with the help of Feyre they somehow carefully got your unconscious form into the large bath in the washroom. The warm water had a dark hue instantly from the dried blood and dirt caked onto your skin. Nesta was the one that bathed you. Noticing the scars littering your skin. She had worked the braids out of your hair and washed it. She noticed the way you had lost weight in the short time you’d been here. 

“We should probably throw these away. I grabbed a nightgown while you were bathing her.” One hard look at your leathers had them both coming to the same conclusion. They dressed you in the nightgown before placing you back on the cleaned bed. 

“Do you need anything else from me?” Feyre asked her sister as she placed a hand on the doorknob. She was desperate to get back home to Nyx and Rhysand but would wait if the oldest Archeron needed her to. 

“I’ll be okay. Thank you for helping me, Feyre.” Feyre nodded her head at Nesta’s reply before exiting the room. Nesta grabbed another book and started to read to you. 

The day you woke up had been going smoothly. Nesta had decided she wanted a change of scenery so she sat in the library. Gwyn and Emerie were with her, deciding that their friend needed them too much for them to wait for her to come to them. They had been respectful of her space but had been growing increasingly worried. 

“She helped me once.” Nesta broke the silence lingering in the library. The Valkyrie’s looked at her then each other waiting for her to continue. 

“It was years ago, we had been poor for a while at that point. Feyre had gotten a few coins for us to spend and I had wandered up town by myself. I desperately wanted out of the house. Away from the sadness of my father and the optimism of Elain. So I just sat there at the old dingy fountain for hours. It was when night began to fall that I started the walk back home.” Her voice shook as she spoke the words. Her fingers started to twist into her nightgown. 

“There were men waiting for me. I didn’t see them or hear them as they snuck up on me. They had grabbed me and were dragging me along. Speaking of doing awful things to me. I was fighting as best I could but they were so much stronger than I was. She was so quiet that if I hadn’t seen it for myself I wouldn’t have believed she was there.” At this point her hands were fists by her side, her tone becoming cold and empty. 

“She killed them all, quickly and efficiently. They were so drunk they didn’t even notice what was happening until the third lay dead in the dirt. The last two tried to run but she was quicker. She flipped the dagger she had in this weird show off kind of way after she slit the last throat.” A shiver ran through her as the scene flashed through her mind. The image of bloodied bodies laying across the dirty ground was something she had once been completely disgusted by. Now however she'd barely blink at the scene. 

“When she was done she turned to me. There was a fire in her eyes that I craved to have. I had never seen someone so angry yet so calm and calculated. But the angry fire turned into a playful ember when she looked at me.” She had sat down on one of the couches at this point. Gwyn beside her holding her hand. Emerie was across from them in a chair, wings spread out behind her a look of understanding in her eyes. 

“After I was done throwing up she led me back to her and her fathers cottage and fed me. Watched over me for a couple hours making sure I was fine enough to go home. She walked me back home that night.” A smile formed its way onto her face as the story started to come to a close. 

“I’d see her occasionally after that and she’d give me a warm smile. She was always clad in a tunic and trousers. She looked so out of place amongst the girls in dresses. It reminded me a lot of Feyre.” Gwyn and Emerie thought about what it would be like in a world where females didn’t often wear tunic and trousers. 

“We would talk every so often. She never asked for anything in return. When I saw her again in those woods I knew I had to help her. That this was my time to return the favor.” As her sentence finished they shot up from their seats. The walls of the house started to shake as a loud roar was heard from inside your room. They quickly moved towards your room, all eyes looking to the bed. But the bed was empty.

A/N: Not much of Azriel but he's coming in soon I promise. As always; likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags(open): @theeleggymeggy @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii

[acourtofthought]

I just had a thought! Do you think Elain and Lucien’s story might be happening in the time between ACOSF ending and Bryce landing in Prythian + during her stay there? It’s explicitly said Vassa’s time is running out, so they probably won’t wait to start looking for solutions 2 hours before she returns to Koschei. Maybe Rhys will give Lucien the remaining Made weapon (Nesta has the sword and Eris has another one, I forgot which) so he can kill Koschei?

That's what I've been thinking.

If SF ended in March / April (early Spring), that means the ending of CC2 is 6-9 months after. So we're looking at CC3 picking up somewhere from October to January, not to mention the additional weeks / months that Bryce will be in Prythian.

In all that time, are we really supposed to believe nothing has happened with this:

Koschei said, “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.” His shadows swirled.

With this?

“But Tamlin is already hanging by a thread. You and Lucien have made it clear that he’s barely improved this past year. Learning of Feyre’s pregnancy might make him crumble again. With a new war possible and Briallyn up to her bullshit with Koschei, we need a strong ally. We need the Spring Court’s forces.” “So we’re to hide her pregnancy from him?” “No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

With this?

Indeed, Mor’s eyes shuttered. “They don’t want to sign the new treaty.”

“Maybe,” Cassian lied. She was still trying to convince them to sign the new treaty. But Eris didn’t need to know that.

The only one who hadn’t voted was Mor, who remained in Vallahan to keep coaxing its rulers to sign the new treaty

With this?

“But you and yours have more important things to think about than ancient history. My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he’s not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too. I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash.”

These were really big problems in ACOSF, even as far back as the novella (ACOWAR for Vassa's curse) and I find it difficult to believe there's just nothing happening with them in the 6-9 months that's gone by especially because we know Vassa's freedom was ending soon. There's little chance Lucien and Jurian would just be chilling in the human lands doing nothing once Koschei called her back (I also cannot imagine yet another awkward Solstice with Elain, Az, and Lucien or another year gone by where Elucien's bond and her powers are in limbo).

What makes a lot of sense is that Elucien's book would pick up shortly after SF. They would deal with Vassa, Koschei, Spring / Tamlin and help Mor with the treaty. By they end, they'd permanently be living in Spring or Day which would explain Elain's absence in CC2.

I could also see them visiting Feyre and Rhys at the end of their book only to have Feyre inform them of Bryce having arrived in Prythian followed by her return to Midgard and that would be a seamless way for SJM to introduce the crossover to the ACOTAR series since ACOTAR only readers still don't know about it. That would then set up Az's book with how connected he is to the crossover and whatever new obstacles will come about because of Bryce's visit (the possible return of the Daglan / Asteri and a war of the world's scenario).

Giving Az the book immediately after CC3 seems odd to me because if someone is unaware of CC, they'll have finished SF wondering what's going on with Beron, Koschei, Tamlin, Vassa, and the treaty only to be smacked in the face with an outerspace time traveler when they start the next book in the series. They would also be confused on why the issues in SF are suddenly unimportant or on the back burner after SF created a sense of urgency around them.

There needs to be a more natural build up and I think a soft introduction at the end of an Elucien novel would provide that.

[animezinglife]

Do you think Azriel would defeat Lucien easily in a fight or do you think Lucien would win?

I think it would be ugly, and I think it depends. I never want them to fight each other for good reason, and I don't want to find out.

If we're talking straight-up hand-to-hand combat, I think even if he did win, Lucien would walk away from that fight looking a lot worse than Az and feeling a lot worse.

It's hard to say given how little we actually know about Lucien's fighting style. He opts for words over violence, but we also know he's more than capable of holding his own in a fight. We haven't really seen Lucien be truly engaged with both weapons and magic. We were with him when he and Feyre were on the run from his brothers and with him when the two of them killed the twins, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say the latter wasn't a lot more than a tussle compared to what can exist in their world.

If we're talking about hand-to-hand sparring...I would really lean towards Azriel, but I think Lucien's got far more tricks up his sleeves than anyone suspects and that we definitely haven't seen half of what he's capable of.

If magic's involved, Lucien's chances go way up. While some don't seem to believe he's that powerful, the same also never expected him to spell-cleave until he actually did it, and he has some hellacious bloodlines when it comes to magical ability. I think the win could tilt in his favor easily, especially given the way Azriel's shadows would falter in fire and light. I would put my money on Lucien here.

Swords - Tossup. I need more information. I might lean a bit more towards Azriel here just based on experience/frequency/intensity of the training we know he's had.

Knives - Tossup again. Knives seem to be Lucien's preference and my suspicion is he'd actually be less predictable in how he uses them than Az. But again, it's hard to tell.

Az's wings are both an advantage and a disadvantage: advantage from a distance for the most part, but definitely a disadvantage up close. Especially for someone wielding close-range weapons like knives--that's a target that's both massive and sensitive.

I think too when you have a martial arts background, it's hard anyway to assume either would win over the other. Plans are great until the first punch is thrown. We have some information about Az, but next to nothing on Lucien in that regard (especially in comparison).

It won't be anyone's favorite answer, but in my book, it fully depends. It makes me cringe a little when someone goes all in one way or the other with their bets.

I think Az would underestimate Lucien--he already does. I think Lucien would both know that and work that to his advantage.

Yet Az is also more than capable of adapting to that mistake immediately.

[quaddmgd]

Ask game!! For Crystal - 7, 8, 13, 28, 38, F, H :3

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Probably spending time with Aldecaldos, especially seeing them in their camp, helping each other with mundane tasks. On occassion she helped them with fixing a vehicle or some other piece of technology on her way back to the city. This quickly caused some of the Aldecaldos to warm up to her, and they ended up inviting her to a few family dinners, where she could unwind and share some stories over a beer. At first it was problematic to her due to the way she parted ways with her family, but after some time in Night City she found comfort in reliving memories of the good old times. She misses the silence and being surrounded by people that she knows and trusts.

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Crystal was regularly encouraged by her mother to practice netrunning, but she displayed more interest in mechanical stuff like cars, weapon assembly, maintaining equipment. At the end of the day she managed to learn some of it. She's by no means good at it, but skills she learned continuously compliment her combat.

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Hmm that's a good question. Never thought about the possibility of her being wrong about what she looks best in. I might have a good answer to that, however. Crystal was dressing all black with red accents during her nomad days (I've yet to post her pics from that era). That's the style I imagine she retained to date, though she managed to diversify it a bit. I still like to dress her up that way, but there are two outfits that she wears most frequently - both are yellow/gold with white and black accents. Figured that might be something she subconsciously feels better in, or there might be someone that praised such a mix on her.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

She usually doesn't mince words, sometimes to a fault. She's direct and she wants people to act the same towards her. Partially it's a result of her upbringing, but also because at the most critical moment in her life this far, she was lied to by multiple people she depended on. That made her even more distrustful, than she was raised to be. No matter how devastating, she prefers to tell the truth and she expects to be treated the same way.

38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

Not a singular memory, but she likes to reminisce about nights she spent sneaking to multiple restricted areas on the outskirts of Tucson AZ with her best friend and his girlfriend, where they would end up drinking and talking about whatever all night. She misses them greatly and prays that they're doing fine. For now she doesn't know how to go about it, but she hopes to see them again someday.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Adoration? I'd love to be friends with her. Other than that - pride, definitely. It's not often that I create OCs, so I cherish all of them, even if I didn't put much thought into making them. I wasn't inspired by anything while deciding on her looks, she just sort of came out this way, and one look at her gave me a basic idea of what she was like. Shortly after, I had her personality and backstory. She kinda came out of nowhere and I'm happy that I managed to detail her story and fit her into Cyberpunk. The appreciation from people on the internet certainly enhances this feeling even further.

H) What trait do you admire most?

I guess it's the ability to completely dissociate herself from the outside world. The moment she feels it's too much for her to handle, she finds the time to travel into the badlands, where she can spend an entire evening listening to her favorite music, lying on her car and thinking about both past and present.

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Unexpected

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Azriel does his duty for his Court completely and utterly isolated, and he likes it that way. His ideology begins to waver, however, when another begins to do it better.

Warnings: reader tortures (but mostly intimidates) a male, reader also has severe trauma that will be discussed later on. Swearing, crying, references to cutting , torturing, and blood. Az pretty much gets a boner from all of this, and also Cassian is here. I think I went a bit off canon as well. If I need to add any more TW, please let me know! Please do not read if you do not feel comfortable.

A/N: This is my attempt at writing anything multi-part for the first time in months, so I hope u can pull it off. This is Part 1, and Part 2 will be posted in the next coming weeks. Thank you to anyone who has supported my writing—I hope you like this one too :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reply, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

Azriel Masterlist

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3

In all of Azriel’s centuries of living, killing, torturing, and fucking, he had never seen a male quiver and crawl from his restraints so relentlessly.

When you entered his pitch black chamber, knives covering seemingly every ounce of your body, the male looked as if crawling out of his own skin would be better than even looking you in the eye.

He could only see your silhouette as you opened the iron door, making sure it was locked behind you as you closed it, and blood began to pump to his groin.

You were so…unexpected.

Rhys had come in only minutes ago, telling him about the spymaster from the Autumn Court who had practically dropped this male into his hands.

“She’s been tracking this group for weeks—months even,” he whispered to Azriel. “Beron spoke highly of her the last time we brought this group to his attention, and he agreed to let us use her. For now.”

Her.

Az would be lying if he wasn’t a little…intrigued.

Never once did he think a female was incapable of doing a job like his. He was only surprised by the fact that of all people, Beron had a female for his spymaster. He had his doubts that Beron put this female—you—into this position for the right reasons.

Either way, he was grateful. The “group” that Rhys was referring to were a group of rebel Illyrian males who did not like the way Rhys was running things. They had done enough damage in Illyria for Rhys to take notice, but when they started expanding further south, that is when the other Courts finally showed some interest.

Most notably—Beron. Hence why you were walking slowly into his chamber, covered in weapons, prepared to get information from this male no matter how bloody you got.

He saw the curves of your body take shape in the darkness, but it wasn’t until you stepped into the thin strip of light shining through the small window above your head.

His throat dried and his chest tightened.

Divine, he thought. Murderously so.

Had he dreamed you into existence?

You breezed past him, not even batting an eye. You were zeroed-in on the male strapped to the metal chair, huffing and pressing himself as far away from you as he could.

He got a whiff of your scent, and his eyes fluttered at its gravitational pull.

“Agnar,” you mumbled huskily, “it’s been too long.”

Az could only watch you work.

The male was breathing out of his nose, and sweat began to drip down his temple. His wrist restraints groaned from his badly he was pulling them.

“Did you get in trouble again?” you ask him, walking slowly towards him and pulling a knife from your thigh. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

Your voice lowered more and more as you spoke.

“No—no,” the man whimpered, pressing the back of his head against the chair and meeting his gaze with Az’s. “Anything. I’ll tell you everything. Just get her—get her away from me.”

It was then that you decided to acknowledge that Az was even standing behind you. You turned your head to the side, giving him an illuminated view of your side profile, and only your eyes were turned towards him.

You scanned his body from his face to his feet and back up again, taking in his form. Any other male would think you were sizing him up, but Az knew you were taking note of every visible weapon he had on him and reading his body language.

Someone had trained you well. So well, that even Az felt a bead of sweat drip down his own back.

He cleared his throat before saying, “she’s fine where she is.” He nodded to you, and you gave him the subtlest of nods back. There were zero emotions present in your eyes.

You then turned your face forward once more, and continued.

“You can make this so simple, Agnar,” you said to the male, twirling your ruby-coated dagger in your hand, “and you can be out of here in no time.”

You leaned closer to him.

“Where is your group headed next,” you asked, slowly. “Tell me the exact location, and I won’t have to use this.”

The man continued to meet your intense gaze and swallowed grimly. He kept his chest puffed, attempting to keep any of his ego intact, but his body continued to shake at your proximity. It rattled so hard his feet were bouncing off the floor.

You grinned at his silence and pressed the tip of your knife to his leather-covered chest. He sucked in a breath.

You traced a line across the entire expanse of his chest, following some invisible line, before saying, “I can give you a matching one, if you’d like.”

A scar. You were tracing one of his scars. That you had given him.

“It seems unfair of me to only give you one,” you whispered, “when two will impress the females even more, won’t they?”

You had cut a scar that long across his chest? No wonder he was shaking so hard the chair was rattling.

“Come on Agnar. Just a location.”

You kept saying his name in such a way that was making his skin crawl. It bothered him to no end.

Az just…watched.

You pushed the tip of your blade into the center of his chest, not enough to touch skin, but enough to poke through the fabric. The male’s body went still as death.

“I went easy on you last time,” you grumbled, “I won’t make that mistake again—”

“Ironcrest,” the man shouts, heaving. “Ironcrest Camp. Their plan is to rally their forces at Ironcrest Camp.”

Your body tensed, as well as Az’s, and your voice somehow went deeper. “When?”

“I don’t know. I swear it on the cauldron.” He was practically weeping. “They’re having a meeting about it in a brothel somewhere in the Steppes seven nights from now, but that’s all I know. I swear it.”

You slowly pulled the tip of your knife from his clothing and backed away from him. The male audibly exhaled as you did, and he breathed deeper and slower the more you backed away from him.

Ironcrest.

Az’s mind started to spin. He knew of many brothels in the Steppes, and he hated every single one. The last thing he wanted to do was go anywhere near those places, but exploding a window or two wouldn’t hurt. He would honestly enjoy it.

The issue was: which brothel?

He ran over the names and locations of each one in his head, but the wheels in his head came to a screeching halt when you turned your frame towards his completely.

Gods.

The way the light was shining on you from overhead made you look ethereal. You looked lethal with a coating of death over your irises, and nothing could prepare him for how sexy he found you. Everything about you. From the leathers you were covered in to the way you held yourself.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking that way. He had heard you say maybe twenty words in total, and you had only glanced his way once, but damn him if he wasn’t a bit hypnotized by you.

“I know the brothel,” you said to him, and he noticed how your voice had turned more neutral once you began to speak to him. “I can get there in more than enough time.”

You began to walk back towards the door, but he stuck his arm out in front of you, his hand hovering in front of your stomach.

“Wait,” he said, and your eyes met his again. “Rhys will need to hear about this. He will want me to go with you as well.”

“I don’t need your help,” you spat, and your breath coated the skin around his collarbone.

He didn’t know how to respond, so he lowered his hand from your stomach, and let you pass.

It wasn’t until his hand dropped to his side that he felt a tingle crawling up to his elbow, and the scent of you still lingering in his nose.

He exhaled when he heard the door close, and ran a hand down his face.

“I have never seen you so entranced, brother,” Cassian said from the shadows behind him, making him jolt.

Had he been there the whole time?

“Shall I tell Rhys that his spymaster cannot keep his dick in his pants around a pretty lady?”

Pretty lady.

An anger rose up inside Azriel, and he straightened his shoulders to tame it.

“Fuck off, Cas,” Az mumbled, and Cassian threw his head back in a laugh.

“Relax, brother,” he said and placed his hand on Az’s shoulder, shaking him a bit, “you’ll see her again soon enough.”

Az didn’t bother to watch Cassian leave.

Soon enough.

If only Azriel knew how truly unexpected you were about to become.

Tag list: (if you’d like to be added, please let me know! I apologize if your tag is not working/is not added)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy @seraphqueen123 @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @sayhitomommy @wickedazriel @xxpeachyxo @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @evlynclia @feyretopia @wingedmiken

[bloodycassian]

Tender - Azriel x reader - Pregnancy fic. Fem! reader. LONG!!! 

Prompt -  Hi! I just read most of your imagines, and i loved them!  You have me as your faithful follower, I don't comment much because English is not my first language. Could you write one where az manages to perceive that reader is pregnant right in the middle of the war?

You woke to yelling. Not screaming. Not fear or pain, but battle cries that you'd grown to love. They made your blood sing in harmony with the Illyrian voices. It made your heart hammer in your chest, and your muscles tense - ready to fight. Azriel groaned beside you, curling around your waist like a vise. You managed to break free from his muscled arms. Pale light shining through the tent tinted his shadows a light gray. They wrapped around you, drawing a chill down your spine. The war cries grew louder. "Get up. It's time." You shook him, pulling on your light armor. He covered his face with his hands, and did not leave the cot. He groaned again when you pulled the blanket off his mostly naked body. He was never a morning person.  Cassian rushed in when you were putting the last of your gear on, and Az froze. His grip on his pants went white knuckled. Cassian's face was pale, and before he could say anything Azriel was hurriedly pulling on the rest of his clothes. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the Warlord. "It's a diversion." You said, voice hollow. Cassian's slight nod was enough to make the breath leave you. "It's going to be fine." Azriel grunted, pulling his tunic over his head. "We just need to move the troops. Get Rhys here." He waved a hand at his brother dismissively.  Cassian grabbed Az's wrist.  He forced the male to look at him, to see his worried eyes. You tensed, ready to defend your mate even against Cassian's might. "Rhys is on the battlefield already. We're on our own." His voice was low, and the warning in his eyes was enough to make the hair on your arms raise. Azriel pulled away from him, slowly.  He began strapping his weapons belts on, pushed his hair back and sighed. "Where do you need us?"   The air was cold, and the howls of battle echoed across the hills. Azriel's shadows curled around your legs, comforting. Then they slithered their way across the valley where the battle was beginning.  + You could barely raise your sword by the end of it. The mud had been the most challenging part of the entire fight. The enemy horses had done a good job of making obstacles when they fell in the mud, lame with broken ankles and necks. You wished to put them out of their misery, but there was no time. The forces seemed to come in waves. Like a test against your small unit.  Few were lost from your side. The dewey grass steamed in the morning light, carrying up the reek of enemy blood with it. You wiped your face, trying to get the taste of dirt and blood out of your mouth. Sharp stinging pain seared your ribs under your arm. You hissed. Then, you felt the warmth of your own blood. You swore, and looked for a medic that wasn't tending to wounded on the ground.  Some Illyrian bodies were being lifted away, high into the air for burial at their homes. You dared not take a healer away from more critically injured soldiers. You nodded grimly to the ones that you passed. They were covered in blood, and yet still gave you fierce grins when you went by. They respected you. More than any other Illyrian Female before you. It was sad, but you hoped to forge a new path for other females of Illyria. You held an arm under your side and limped your way out of the mud. The packed mess inside your boots made moving your feet hard. You couldn't wait to shower.  You spotted Cassian far down the field, and watched as he raised his sword high over his head. Your stomach twisted in pity for the suffering animal under him. You looked away before you could see the lifeblood drain from the horse's neck. He sent a blessing to the Mother for the animal, and continued on to the next suffering soul that would meet its end via his blade.  + You hadn't seen her in a long while. Too long for a friend, but she gave you that same look she always did when she saw you hobbling up to her for help. Jeva was your favorite healer, and one you knew could keep a secret. She was round, and her voice was light and comforting. She smelled of nutmeg and berries. Something you had appreciated about her since you had met. "What is it this time?" She waved you inside, holding the tent flap open for you while you dumped your battle stained gear on the wood hutch beside the entrance.  The tent was light and airy, filled with small plants of different varieties and cluttered with boxes and books everywhere. Her desk and bed were shoved to the corner, and a long wood table took up the majority of her area. As if she had known you were coming, she already had potions of different types laid out on the end of the table. "Probably nothing." You said, pulling off your armor as gingerly as you could manage. The soft light flickered and changed to a harsh beam when she laid you down on her exam table. "I'm not supposed to be healing anymore you know. I'm retired." She clicked her tongue at you, earning a pained grin. It was hard for you to bother a healer for any amount of time for something that you were sure was so small. But something about it stung too much for it to be just a scrape. And you knew Cassian would lecture you about it being infected if he saw through your mask to the pain. Az would force you to see one anyway as soon as he learned of it.  "You know I wouldnt be here unless I had to be, Jeva." You said through your teeth as she cut away your muddied undershirt.  "Oh, I know. That's why I have my best potions ready." She laughed, then paused. Your shirt lay limp on the table. Her eyebrows knitted together at the sight of your open wound. "Is it bad?" You asked, craning to try to look for yourself. She held you down.  "Metal. Fragments are still in here, likely why it hasn't healed yet." You relaxed at that, grateful that it wasn't worse. "Thank the Mother. Az would have yelled all night." You rolled your eyes, and sighed as she started working on you. The first part was always the worst. The stinging hot potion that made the nerves around the wound numb.  "One-" She began her countdown, then poured. You growled at her, gripping the end of the stained table hard enough to crack. "Easy..." She warned, and smoothed down your hair. She knew how to take care of her patients, that was certain. You relaxed as the stinging eased. The dull ache that it left behind turned into a bad memory.  "I'm going to extract the blade then we can close you up. Simple and easy." She picked up her tools and began tugging away at your side. You could have fallen asleep with the relief the numbing potion brought. And with her humming in the air around you, it was a struggle not to. The time seemed to pass quickly, but when the clank of the metal tools jolted you from your dozing, the tent was lit in orange from the sunset outside. "Relax, we're going to close it up now. Once the potion wears off you will still be sensitive." She placed her hands over you, and the familiar warm vibrations of her healing magic set in. Then it stopped abruptly. You cracked open an eye, then narrowed your brows at her. "What is it?" You said gently, then again when she didnt reply. She stared at you, mouth agape. Her eyes locked to yours, even when you sat up to demand she tell you what the problem was. "Am I dying?!" you took her hand gently, in case she was going to push you away.  Then she started laughing, her hand gripping yours back. The warmth glowed in your palm, the light radiating out from it was starkly contrasting the tent walls bedecked in orange. The light she emitted shot through you, and you felt the wound tingle, and seal. You stared at her in shock. That amount of healing power was incredible. Especially for field medics.  "Youre not dying, no..." She waved a hand, fanning herself. Her eyes were glassy with tears. She sniffed and clutched your hand tighter. "Quite the opposite, darling." She pulled you in for a warm hug.  + You spent the rest of the evening with Jeva. Until she got a hurried message about student healers needing help on the battlefield. You stayed in her tent as long as you could manage with the ringing in your ears. You stared and stared at the mirror across from you, showing you the bloodied warrior that you wanted to be. That you wanted to stay.  The warrior that carried the Shadowsinger's child.  The thought made tears sting your eyes. You refused to let them fall. You had been ignoring his tugs down the bond for well over an hour. You knew he was concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to shout back down. The only thing that echoed in your mind were Jeva's words "You're pregnant..."  Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.  You nearly punched her when she told you she wasn't joking. The only reason you even believed her was because of that powerful zap of healing she sent to you. That she sent to scan your body and make sure the fetus was okay before you even knew about it. You could barely hear half the words she said as she told you your options.  You roiled with the thought now. The Mugwart she left on the table was daunting. You desperately wanted her back. Jeva would be able to deliberate with you. You knew she would tell you to do whatever makes you happy. You knew that. But you wondered how ethical the choice that made you happy was. Bringing a child into a world of war seemed cruel. Even if it made you happy. You distantly noticed Azriel as you passed him, walking to the forest edge just passed your tent. Worry laced the bond between you. You tried not to show anything back. But you knew he felt the tension, the void there. "Where the hell have you been?!" Azriel's eyes were furious when you passed him, his wings flared out slightly. You couldnt even look at him with anger back. Your emotions ran wild. You were frozen, and as numb as the potion Jeva had given you when she began removing the blade.  "Do you know how worried I have been?! I sent Cassian to-" He tried to grab for your hand to stop you, but you flicked him away. He stopped for a moment, stunned. Then returned with more energy than before. That yawning abyss in your bond was growing darker with shame, worry and anxiety. His shadows roiled around him as he caught up. "You dont get to-" "Azriel..." You stopped in the edge of the clearing. The small meadow was silent in the darkness, not even the monsters of Prythian dared roar tonight. Your mind did all the roaring you could handle, anyway. You tried to focus on the swaying grass, on the soft smell of wet bark and pine hanging in the air.  "Dont try to excuse this I need to know you're okay and-" He stormed in front of you, ready to burst with rage. His fear always made him angry. And for good reason after losing so many close to him.  A tear ran down your cheek, your face burned hot with hundreds of feelings at once. Fear, pain, shock, joy, hope.... elation. You wanted his children. You wanted to help raise his child. You wanted to see Azriel be a father. You knew he would be the best damn Illyrian father there had ever been.  The thought hit you like a well placed punch.  He saw your paleness, your tears and stopped his yelling. You fell to your knees, the mud splattering all around you. You wanted to lay down. Lay down and think about the implications of carrying his child. Would it be good for the baby to be born at all? Just because you wanted it didnt mean it needed to happen. You knew that Jeva would give you a potion to extract it without hesitation if it was what you wished. "I'm-" You choked out, fighting the panic that flooded you. Your mind roiled with the conflict of your mind and heart. It turned you into a muddied, dark ocean on the bond. A turmoil that he couldn't see past. If you were an ocean, he was your lighthouse on the cliffside. Signaling you home.   His eyes darted to your body, to your hands and how they wrung together in front of you. "I'm sorry. I just-" He sighed and took one of your hands. "I'm sorry." He kissed the back of it and brought his forehead to yours. He normally needed a lot longer to cool down after a fight, but seeing you in tears shocked him out of his pride. "I shouldn't have said that... I know you can take care of yourself." his voice was low, and he ran a hand comfortingly down your back. A hysteric laugh bubbled from your throat. It sounded like a sob. You didn't know exactly which it was. He sat back and pulled you into his lap, despite the grass being dewey and damp. He rocked you there for a few seconds before you had to tell him. Before he could be too close if he didnt want you anymore. The doubt crept into your head, and the nerves ate at you. Your heart raced, you could feel it in your neck. "Azriel..stop." You pushed away from him, to catch his beautiful dark eyes. They were painted in a silver hue by the moon above. You took in his face, the curve of his cheeks and lips for possibly the last time. You had to consider the worst possible outcome. You braced yourself for the rejection, for the pain of his reaction. You knew it had to come out. You knew you had to say it now or you never would. Your stomach flipped over and over.  You opened your mouth, a soft sob wracking out of you before you began. He froze. Went utterly still, his shadows even stopping for a second before whirling faster than before. Your eyes went wide. His nose flared, eyes narrowed. He held you closer, sniffing at your neck. He pulled back and his eyes were even wider than before. His mouth fell open when you nodded. "I'm-" "Youre-" his face went through a whirlwind of different emotion. Then, he broke out into a small laugh. He couldn't stop. You felt the tears running down your cheeks and didnt bother to wipe them away. "Honey... I'm sorry." He stopped laughing suddenly. "What do you want to do?" His eyes were masked, his expression the most serious you'd ever seen him. His aura on your bond seemed to go completely gray and still, as if he didn't want you to see him. He masked everything. In preparation for whatever you decide. The gesture made your heart squeeze in appreciation. You stammered, resting your forehead on his. "I dont know." You muttered, voice cracking. Then, he was wrapping his arms around you in a smothering hug. When he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hands. The hands that had seen so much cruelty in his life. The possibilities of the same thing happening to your child made your heart race. "I'm here for whatever decision you make." He brushed your cheek with a thumb. You nodded and let him hold you like that for a while. Quietly rocking back and forth with you in his lap. + You were near falling asleep when the war cries rang out again. Illyrians howling for their leaders to join them. Another onslaught of death coming their way. The calls were distant, but Azriel tensed the second he heard them. Your blood went cold. He buried his face to your chest, as if he wished he could hide there. "I'm not going." He said when you tried pushing him away. "I wont leave you." He promised, locking his muscled forearms around you. The echoes of battle cries faded. He stroked your hair, and traced his fingers along your back. Then he swore. "Let me take care of this." He said, voice edged with anger. Nerves pricked at your stomach, but you stood, wobbling on your feet slightly. He took off into the night sky painted in silvers and blues by the full moon. Then came racing back down right behind Rhys. the high lord took one breath and then he was hugging his brother. Azriel shoved him off, and they shot into the night sky. Well, Azriel did. He dragged Rhys with him. Grunts of pain and fleshy sounds of punching rang out.  You followed them high into the air where they had their conversation. Your wings led you around them with ease. "Stop fighting and use your words, boys." You warned. You recognized Azriels growl and smiled to yourself as they broke apart. Rhys adjusted his tunic and cleared his throat. "I need you there. Cassian is handling the Western front, the others need a leader."  Azriel began protesting against the high lord. "I cant with my mate-" "I know it feels impossible right now but-" "I will not, Rhys-" You set your jaw. If they wanted to fight over if you needed protection or not, you would take the option off the table all together. "I'll go." you said, voice strong since hearing Jeva announce what grew inside you. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. You shoved the thoughts away as far as you could. They both turned to you, horror striking Azriels features. "Absolutely not. No." Heat and rage flared down the bond. It made you want to defy everything he said. You locked eyes with him and glared. Rhys glanced between you with tense shoulders. He cleared his throat. "It would be a good compromise, Azriel. You can go together to the Eastern front. Think about it." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave him a grim smile.  "I wont say a word." He said, summoning the darkness around him then winnowing away. Azriel's cold eyes made him look like a statue. "Let's go." He said, and started circling lower. Back to the meadow.  "I'm going, you cant stop me from following you." You said, expecting a fight. He said nothing. You were met with that silence that drove others crazy tryin to find out what he wanted from them. The bond seemed to snap taut, then go into a relaxed state. He was hiding. You knew it, but would rather have silence and peace than him trying to fight you again.  He walked you back to the tent, and exhaustion took you under before you could remember him laying down with you. You hoped it it was exhaustion, and not whatever the baby was doing to you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't resist the urge to cradle your belly while you slept. There was no bump, but it felt like the most natural thing to do now that you were aware of the being inside you. You slept hard, and awoke to the breakfast bell chiming. The sounds of slow footsteps marching through the mud kept you awake. Azriel was gone, but the candle on the table was lit. A note lay there waiting for you. His messy scrawl made you smile, the familiarity of his writing reminded you of the notes he would leave you when he had to leave early for meetings with Rhys. "Back by nightfall, lover. A guard is at the tent, ask her to bring you anything you need. -A" You peeked outside the tent to see Jeva there, her long fur coat shimmering in the morning light. Her breath clouded in front of her when she gave you a soft smile. "Good morning." She pulled a muffin from her coat. "Your favorite." She winked, and you pulled her inside. She had a fire roaring by the time you finished your food. "How are you not freezing?" She complained, blowing into her hands to keep them warm. You brushed the crumbs from your shirt and really took into account the changes you'd noticed lately. How hungry you'd been, how tired after the easiest days.  "Do you know... How um..." You gestured to your stomach. She gave a small smile and nodded. "Only a month or so." She said quietly. You stared at your stomach, as if waiting for something to answer you. To give some sort of affirmation that Jeva was right. She continued warming herself by the fire, and soon the tent was filled with her warm chestnut smell. Cassian entered the tent when you were starting to doze off again. The wool blanket on your lap reminded you of a time when you first met Az. Your heart squeezed at the memory of those long nights shared together by a fire. Taking your turns on watch duty. You shook yourself from the memory. Cassian froze. His face scrunched up at the sight of you. The scent, you realised. You swore to yourself, and Jeva only nodded when he looked to her. "Youre pregnant?" He asked breathlessly, and you could smell the fear and excitement coming from him. In fact, you could smell the smoked meat on his breath. And the cold air that clung to him from outside. It was refreshing, like a cool drink on a hot day amid the dry heat inside the tent. "I'm sorry, I shouldnt have.." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain focused.  "Its okay, Cass. What's going on? Az left me this note." You handed it to him. His lips moved as he read it. He went white as bone. Your stomach dropped.  + Azriel had gone in the night to take out the entire eastern flank with a small group of Illyrians. You felt your world skittering away as Cassian told you. Your vision went blurry, and tears fell, dripping on your hands that clenched the wool blanket.  "He's on his way here now. He had to answer to Rhys first."  Cassian waited for you to say anything. But your lips just couldnt form the words. The hurt, anger... the betrayal you felt for him going to battle without you. And defying a direct order from his high lord like a fool. "I suggest you leave before Azriel comes back. It may get messy." Jeva spoke for you, and you were grateful. You gave Cassian a nod of thanks before he turned and left. The cold wind that blew in from the door gave you goosebumps.  "Take it easy, you dont want to be too stressed." Jeva handed you a mug of tea and gave you a small squeeze. You could smell Azriel before he entered. Jeva shot him a glare, but said nothing. "I'll be in my tent if you need me." She promised, gave you a look that said 'find me after' and left. Azriel took off his armor plates one by one. A bit too slowly to be considered normal. Stalling. You said nothing. You let the tension roil out of you, let it hit him down the bond. Like a wave getting ready to break. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his wings.  The mask he wore cracked when he saw your fists balled in the blanket. "I couldnt risk you... or the babe." He tried to hide the fear that shone through. The fear of his mate or child being hurt in battle. He wouldnt be able to stand it. The fight was needed, anyway. He needed to get out his instincts to protect protect protect.  You said nothing. You let that looming wave grow larger. He sighed, and sat at the end of the cot beside you. "I'm sorry. I needed....I needed to get my head straight. I should have told you. I'm sorry." That wave crashed, not on him though. Internally, guilt and fear melting in on yourself. "I cant lose you, we... We cant." You said through your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that begged to spill over. He tried his best to hold back his surprise. "We?" He asked, a small smile playing on his full lips.  You gave him a grim smile. "If you're...ready to be a father. I like imagining you, with my child."  "Our child." He said with a bubbling laugh. You laughed with him, and it turned to hysterics.  He wiped tears from the corner of your eyes. "We're going to have a baby?" He cradled your face, looking into your eyes. You took one of his hands, and placed it on your flat belly. "Yes. We are." You said, voice quivering.  He wrapped you into a hug, and you cried together in the cot. 

[gimme-mor]

BETWEEN THE LINES: NIGHT COURT ELAIN & SPRING COURT FEYRE

*DISCLAIMER*

This is a really long post and based on my interpretation of the text.

This is strictly an analysis of Elain as a character because, in my opinion, there isn’t a lot of talk about Elain outside of ships and conversations about her character arc typically revolve around to whom she is paired, especially if that person is Azriel. She is her own character and gets the short end of the stick in the fandom because everyone is more concerned about who she’s shipped with rather than her as a character.

Also, anyone who is rude/condescending will automatically be blocked.

In ACOSF, SJM went out of her way on two occasions to highlight Elain not looking good in black. While it may be minor or insignificant to some, I think those instances were meant to show something about Elain specifically and what she may be going through in the Night Court. Elain has been a passive character for the most part, contributing to things in her own way earlier in the series. But after she was taken by the Cauldron, her safety has become everyone’s main concern and the other characters have slowly excluded her from courtly matters. In ACOWAR, this was understandable because she was traumatized and not fully present. However, as of ACOSF, Elain was still excluded from courtly matters with the other characters heavily relying upon Nesta, who made her reservations known, because they were on a time constraint and couldn’t afford to wait for Elain to reacquaint herself with her powers.

The fact that the other characters use the kidnapping situation to excuse their current actions toward Elain is eerily similar to the way Tamlin and Lucien used the Under the Mountain events to excuse Tamlin’s actions toward Feyre in ACOMAF. And the characters use Elain and Feyre’s safety to justify why neither of them should be involved. In my opinion, Elain in the Night Court resembles Feyre in the Spring Court because not only do they experience similar things, but both of them are (or were in Feyre’s case) in places that stunt their growth. Even though Night Court Elain isn’t exposed to all of the things that Spring Court Feyre was exposed to, the similarities in their experiences (and how those similarities might potentially impact Elain similarly to the way they impacted Feyre) shouldn’t be overlooked.

Being monitored

Feyre

I was too watched－too monitored and judged. Why should the bride of the High Lord learn to fight if peace had returned? That had been Ianthe’s reasoning when I’d made the mistake of mentioning it at dinner. Tamlin, to his credit, had seen both sides: I’d learn to protect myself...but the rumors would spread. (ACOMAF)

“Tamlin－Tamlin, I can’t...I can’t live my life with guards around me day and night. I can’t live with that...suffocation. Just let me help you－let me work with you.” (. . .) “I’m drowning,” I managed to say. “I am drowning. And the more you do this, the more guards...You might as well be shoving my head under the water.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Nesta said, “The Trove. And what happened the last time I scried.” Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He’d gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern’s camp to save Elain－he knew the risk. “We won’t make the same mistake twice.” She believed him. “All right.” (ACOSF)

Trying to fit in

Feyre

I hated the bright dresses that had become my daily uniform, but didn’t have the heart to tell Tamlin－not when he’d bought so many, not when he looked so happy to see me wear them. Not when his words weren’t far from the truth. The day I put on my pants and tunics, the day I strapped weapons to myself like fine jewelry, it would send a message far and clear across the lands. So I wore the gowns, and let Alis arrange my hair－if only so it would buy these people a measure of peace and comfort. (ACOMAF)

I sometimes debated asking her to pray for me as well. To pray that I’d one day learn to love the dresses, and the parties, and my role as a blushing, pretty bride. (ACOMAF)

Elain

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court－and would do whatever she needed. (ACOSF)

So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court...It sucked the life from her. (ACOSF)

Pretending everything’s all right

Feyre

“Fine,” I breathed. I made myself look him in the eye, made myself smile. (ACOMAF)

Elain

“And you?” I made myself say. “Are you－all right?” Elain looked over a shoulder at me as we entered the foyer, then turned left－to the dining room. In the sitting room across the way, all conversation halted at the smell of food. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face. I’d seen those smiles before. On my own damn face. (ACOFAS)

Clothes not looking right on them

Feyre

I really, truly hated my wedding gown. It was a monstrosity of tulle and chiffon and gossamer, so unlike the loose gowns I usually wore: the bodice fitted, the neckline curved to plump my breasts, and the skirts...The skirts were a sparkling tent, practically floating in the balmy spring air (. . .) I might have dealt with it all if it weren’t for the puffy capped sleeves, so big I could almost see them glinting from the periphery of my vision. My hair had been curled, half up, half down, entwined with pearls and jewels and the Cauldron knew what, and it had taken all my self-control to keep from cringing at the mirror before descending the sweeping stairs into the main hall. (ACOMAF)

I again surveyed the room, my wedding gown hissing on the warm marble floors. I peered down at myself. You look ridiculous. (ACOMAF)

Elain

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. (ACOSF)

Looking good in clothes that suit them and that fact being pointed out

Feyre

My high-waisted peach pants were loose and billowing, gathered at the ankles with velvet cuffs of bright gold. The long sleeves of the matching top were made of gossamer, also gathered at the wrists, and the top itself hung just to my navel, revealing a sliver of skin as I walked. Comfortable, easy to move in－to run. Feminine. Exotic. (ACOMAF)

But those claws now dug in－and my entire body, my heart, my lungs, my blood yielded to his grip, utterly at his command as he said, The fashion of the Night Court suits you. (ACOMAF)

Elain

Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist. She glowed with good health. (ACOSF)

People not wanting them to be involved in things

Feyre

“I want to go.” “No.” I crossed my arms, tucking my tattooed hand under my right bicep, and spread my feet slightly further apart on the dirt floor of the stables. “It’s been three months. Nothing’s happened, and the village isn’t even five miles－” “No.” (ACOMAF)

“I could use my powers against Hybern.” “That’s out of the question,” Tamlin said, “especially as there will be no war against Hybern.” “Rhys says war is inevitable, and we’ll be hit hard.” Lucien said drily, “And Rhys knows everything?” “No－but...He was concerned. He thinks I can make a difference in any upcoming conflict.” Tamlin flexed his fingers－keeping those claws contained. “You have no training in battle or weaponry. And even if I started training you today, it’d be years before you could hold your own on an immortal battlefield.” He took a tight breath. “So despite what he thinks you might be able to do, Feyre, I’m not going to have you anywhere near a battlefield. Especially if it means revealing whatever powers you have to our enemies. You’d be fighting Hybern at your front, and have foes with friendly faces at your back.” “I don’t care－” “I care,” Tamlin snarled. Lucien whooshed out a breath. “I care if you die, if you’re hurt, if you will be in danger every moment for the rest of our lives. So there will be no training, and we’re going to keep this between us.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

“Nesta’s spine straightened. No one spoke, but their attention lingered on her like a film on her skin. ‘You will not go looking for it.’” (ACOSF)

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.” (. . .) “Keep out of this,” she hissed at her youngest sister. “I have no doubt you put these thoughts in her head, probably encouraging her to throw herself into harm’s way－” (ACOSF)

Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it.” Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” “But Nesta should?” Cassian growled. Everyone stared at him. He swallowed, offering an apologetic glance to Az, who shrugged it off. Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, “Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes.” She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.” (ACOSF)

“I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what. I won’t let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you and Elain are the only options.” “Elain doesn’t go near him,” Feyre said. (ACOSF)

Their safety being brought up when they want to be involved

Feyre

“Please. The recovery efforts are so slow. I could hunt for the villagers, get them food－” “It’s not safe,” Tamlin said, again nudging his stallion into a walk. The horse’s coat shone like a dark mirror, even in the shade of the stables. “Especially not for you.” He’d said that every time we had this argument; every time I begged him to let me go to the nearby village of High Fae to help rebuild what Amarantha had burned years ago (. . .) “People want to come back, they want a place to live－” “Those same people see you as a blessing－a marker of stability. If something happened to you…” (. . .)Tamlin said softly, “I can’t do what I need to if I’m worrying about whether you’re safe.” (ACOMAF)

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmured. “It’s fine,” I breathed. “I understand.” Not a lie, but not quite the truth. His fingers grazed lower, circling my belly button. “You are－you’re everything to me,” he said thickly. “I need...I need you to be all right. To know they can’t get to you－can’t hurt you anymore.” (ACOMAF)

“Tamlin got what I didn’t,” Lucien said softly, his breathing ragged. “We all heard your neck break. But you got to come back. And I doubt that he will ever forget that sound, either. And he will do everything in his power to protect you from that danger again, even if it means keeping secrets, even if it means sticking to rules you don’t like. In this, he will not bend. So don’t ask him to－not yet.” (ACOMAF)

“Did he let you take me today,” I said hoarsely, “so that I’d stop asking to help rebuild?” “No. I decided to take you myself. For that exact reason. They don’t want or need your help. Your presence is a distraction and a reminder of what they went through.” (. . .) “I know you wanted to help,” Lucien offered. “I’m sorry.” So was I. (ACOMAF)

Elain

“The last time we involved ourselves with the Cauldron, it abducted you,” Nesta countered, fighting her shaking. (ACOSF)

“Like calls to like,” Amren countered. “You were Made by the Cauldron. You may track other objects Made by it as well, as Briallyn can. And because you are Made by it, you are immune to the influence and power of the Trove. You might use them, yes, but they cannot be used upon you.” A glance to Elain. “Either of you.” Nesta swallowed. “I can’t.” But to let Elain involve herself, jeopardize her safety－ (ACOSF)

Nesta’s pulse pounded throughout her body. “Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?” “I do,” Elain said coldly. (ACOSF)

If it was between her and Elain, there was no choice at all. She would always go first if it meant keeping Elain from harm. Even if she’d just hurt her sister more than she could stomach. (ACOSF)

Pushing back against what others want

Feyre

He hissed, “You have no idea how hard it is for him to even let you off the estate grounds. He’s under more pressure than you realize.” “I know exactly how much pressure he endures. And I didn’t realize I’d become a prisoner.” “You’re not－” He clenched his jaw. “That’s not how it is and you know it.” “He didn’t have any trouble letting me hunt and wander on my own when I was a mere human. When the borders were far less safe.” “He didn’t care for you the way he does now. And after what happened Under the Mountain…” The words clanged in my head, along my too-tense muscles. “He’s terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies’ hands. And they know it, too－they know all they have to do to own him would be to get ahold of you.” “You think I don’t know that? But does he honestly expect me to spend the rest of my life in that manor, overseeing servants and wearing pretty clothes?” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Cassian shifted in his seat. “So we track down the Dread Trove－how?” Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.” Nesta’s head went silent as Elain’s words finished sounding in the room. Feyre had twisted in her seat, face white with alarm. Nesta shot to her feet. “No.” Elain remained in the doorway, her face pale but her expression harder than Nesta had ever seen it. “You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.” (ACOSF)

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.” Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” “Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.” “Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.” (ACOSF)

Being used as pawns against others

Feyre

“We need you to tell us everything,” Tamlin said. “The layout of the Night Court, who you saw, what weapons and powers they bore, what Rhys did, who he spoke to, any and every detail you can recall.” “I didn’t realize I was a spy.” Lucien shifted in his seat, but Tamlin said, “As much as I hate your bargain, you’ve been granted access into the Night Court. Outsiders rarely get to go in－and if they do, they rarely come out in one piece. And if they can function, their memories are usually...scrambled. Whatever Rhysand is hiding in there, he doesn’t want us knowing about it.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes...His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.” His mouth tugged to the side. “If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever...do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? Either for gain, or to ensure she stays safe?” “You let him hear everything tonight, though.” (. . .) I considered his question: Did I trust Lucien? “I don’t know, either,” I admitted, and sighed. “I don’t like that Elain is a pawn in this.” “I know. It’s never easy.” (ACOWAR)

Cassian glowered at Amren. “It’s not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying.” “There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy.” (ACOSF)

Although Elain and Feyre are surrounded by two different groups of people with varying levels of care for their wellbeing, they’re treated similarly which is hard to overlook. In Elain’s situation, Nesta, Azriel, and Feyre take on the “Tamlin role” (either undermining Elain’s attempts to contribute to things or preventing Elain from helping altogether) while everyone else takes on the “Lucien role” (validating the concerns of others while also enabling their behaviors, which doesn’t support Elain’s desire to be involved).

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Cocooned | Cassian x Reader x Azriel

Day 23: Stormy Night w/ Cassian + Day 24: Dark Sunrise w/ Azriel

Summary: During a storm, you cuddle up with Cassian, and reminisce about Azriel.

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: thunder, knives, being attacked, nightmares, ptsd, cuddles

A/N: once again combining two days bc I’m behind+not patient enough to write two of these suckers in one day, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It was as soon as the thunder crashed down from the swirling clouds, loud and screaming, that you jolted awake.

It wasn’t often you had nightmares, but you had tonight, and the storm that had been looming on the horizon for days finally arriving wasn’t helping. You were all alone in your room, the curtains flapping a bit despite the fact that the windows were closed tight. The fabric almost seemed to be waving you over to the door that was just slightly open, not too much.

The toys that were left on the floor seemed to be mocking you almost, beady stuffed animal eyes watching with a blank stare, some covered by the dirty clothes that you’d yet to put together in a basket and ask the House to clean.

Another peal of thunder.

You sat up in your bed, blankets gathering at your waist while you pulled your legs over the side of the mattress, feet hitting the floor as you quietly padded over to your door, opening it all the way, slipping out. The House lit a few small lights for you as you walked down the hallways, extinguishing them once you weren’t within eyesight of them anymore.

The sky cracked open once again, and you saw the flash of light coming in from the window.

You shivered.

His room wasn’t far, though. Just a few more steps on the thick, worn carpet and his wooden door was waiting in front of you. You raised your hand, fist pulled together, knuckles bracing, but you hesitated before finally knocking.

You waited. He didn’t come.

Finally, after another strike of the thunder, you decided that you’d waited long enough, and opened the door. You walked in on the scene of Cassian and Azriel cuddled up together, both only wearing boxers. Cassian’s wings were curled around Azriel, spooning him, his head shoved into his neck, while Azriel had curled his wings around himself.

They both must’ve been in a deep sleep considering how quickly they usually woke up when exposed to any sound at all. You could still remember the time you’d accidentally woken Azriel, not even having meant to, only trying to snatch one of his jackets to wear on a particularly cold day when Cassian had been off in the Illyrian camps, fighting with Devlon, per usual.

~

He was asleep. Or you thought he was.

His eyes were closed, and breathing deeply, and even, his body was completely relaxed. His wings were draped across the bed, blanket kicked to the floor like you assumed he did in his sleep.

You could see the gleam of Truth-Teller from under his pillow where he always kept it, along with a myriad of other weapons.

The hoodie was within sight. Just draped over the end of his bed. All you had to do was tiptoe over to it, grab it, and leave like you’d never been there. It should’ve been easy, in hindsight, but it had been anything but.

You’d held your breath, rolling on the balls of your feet as you rose onto your toes, walking very quietly to it, timing your steps to his breathing.

Breathe in, stay still.

Breathe out, move.

A few more breaths and you were almost there. You leaned forward, reaching for it, nearly there, when you saw it.

He moved faster than he should’ve been able to; soundlessly, not even a hint of a warning before your body was on the floor and his dagger was against your throat, pushing against your Carotid, your heart beating out of your chest.

“Az,”

You whispered almost frantically, watching as his chest heaved, eyes wide and darting around like an animal’s. He looked lost. Confused, even.

“Azriel,”

You repeated, a bit more insistently, hands escaping his grasp that was growing gentler by the second, his body slowly realizing that he wasn’t in danger while his mind caught up.

“You’re…not..”

He mumbled to himself, blade clattering to the floor with a clang as he scrambled backward, body now shaking and shuddering as his hands violently trembled, muscles twitching.

He moved his hands to cover his eyes, hiding behind them before his knees tucked into his chest, and his wings curled around his body tightly like a cocoon.

He wept.

You sat and listened, and quietly moved closer, sitting next to him against the bed frame, not saying a word until he whispered an apology, and you just nodded. You understood. No further words needed to be exchanged.

~

You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Walking quietly up to the bed, you chose to snuggle up with Cassian, lifting the blanket just enough that he groggily groaned, raising a brow and squinting his eyes, seeing you there, and giving a little grunt. Azriel still didn’t wake. Cassian was waking up a little bit more, at least a bit conscious as you pulled the blanket back over yourself, scooting up to the living heater, spooning him as you slid one arm under his muscled body, the other going around his torso.

Shoving your head into his neck, he didn’t say anything, not till he felt you flinch from the next loud clap of thunder, curling further into him in an attempt to hide.

“I don’t like it either.”

He whispered, and you glanced at him, trying to see if he was mocking you or not. But he wasn’t. Cassian, one of the strongest Illyrians in history, General of Night Court, Lord of Bloodshed, was also afraid of lightning.

“Never liked it when I was little, Rhys would always make fun of me. Still don’t like it.”

He mumbled, clearly slipping back into unconsciousness, but still just present enough to shift his wing around you, cocooning you into their tight embrace.

Not even a second later, he was lightly snoring, and you relaxed into his warm body, slowly melting into him as you decided that, for the foreseeable future, Cassian was the one you’d go to on the stormy nights. And maybe you’d get an added bonus of Azriel there some night, too.

Who knows.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

@flufftober

[iridiscent-aesthetics]

I just saw your headcanon of az being jealous of gwyn and eris, may I suggest the opposite? gwyn being jealous of az and eris talking.

Oh I LOVE this one! Might be a tad bit tricky but I'm soo very up for it! Thank you @aelingalathyniusrailme for SUCH a great idea!

Gwyn would've found this entertaining. IF it wasn't Azriel there. She was aware of their hatred. Aware that they were literally always at each others throats. But she couldn't help but fume with jealousy while watching them in the training ring take on each other. Blow to blow, matching at each stride. She was watching Eris and Az spar. It began with a heated argument leading to the Autumn court heir challenging the Shadowsinger to spar. And now here they were, since a straight of 15 minutes, sparring. Neither nowhere close to yielding. Gwyn was cursing the redheaded male with all she had for choosing sparring instead of dueling. The absence of the weapons as a bridge and the proximity of their sweaty bodies was too much, nor did it help that neither had a shirt on. The angst, the tension built between them; it seemed straight out of one of her smutty romance books. Gwyn wasn't liking this one bit. "Come on guys, We get it! You're strong and bold. You're Fearless males! There. fed your bloated male egos. Now stop. would you?!" She yelled, throwing her hands in the air frustrated. "Let them be Gwyn, this is far more entertaining than having to listen them arguing to the point of biting each others heads off." Cassian stood besides her crossing his arms and watching them with a hint of curiosity as to who would win. Gwyn bet her money on Az because she would have it no other way, but as much as she hated to admit, Eris was just as good. "Yeah Gwyn. Besides, two of the hottest males fighting, now that's a sight to sore eyes. Enjoy the show!" Nesta chimed in elbowing her, eyeing Cass as he put his hand to his heart and feigned a dramatic expression of pain. Nesta rolled her eyes. "Oh I'll give you a good show Ness." He said scooping her in his arms and took to the sky. Newly mated idiots, couldn't stay away for a minute. Gwyn looked back to the ring and groaned "Well at least take a break!" "Okay!" Yelled Az before delivering a good blow right to Eris's jaw. "Break." There. That should teach the male a lesson for getting all cocky and getting Az worked up. "Going easy on me Shadowsinger?" Eris said rubbing his jaw. Mother! this male's audacity was insufferable! "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours, your highness." Az smirked back. Gwyneth clenched her fist. Pretty face?! What in all of Prythian made Az think Eris was pretty! Did he find him attractive? Was he into males? Eris was beyond fine, he was VERY attractive. A strong jaw and sharp eyes with a strong intensity. The male was hot . quite literally. He would make a fit equal to Az. His lethal darkness and Eris's burning fire. She shook her head, No. She was over thinking, Az hated Eris; old bad blood. There was no way he'd fall for him. But she'd make sure of it. Az walked out of the training pit and straight to her, sweat dripping off him. Gwyn couldn't tear her eyes off him. "Enjoying the show Berdara?" Came a teasing Azriels' voice. "Mhmm." She didn't even want to deny it, let him know she was attracted to him. About time it got through that dense head of the Night Court's infamous Spymaster. "Hey Az..., what's your type?" She shot him the question looking everywhere but him. He shot his head to her. "What?" She finally met his gaze. "I'm asking you what kind of people you're attracted to Shadowsinger!" Gwyn was certain her face was as red as her hair now. He looked into her eyes for a hard moment before answering in a low voice. "Redheads. Stubborn ones with a fiery attitude at that. Bonus if they're competitive." He was still looking straight into her eyes, with a small smirk, tilting his head aside as if waiting for her expression, while his shadows were dancing around her in excitement. Gwyn's jaw almost dropped. Along with her heart as it fell to her shoe. She was right. Of course. Of course he was attracted to fucking Eris. Redhead, stubborn, fiery attitude AND competitive. Should've added fire d*ck to the list. "Right." She'd say nothing else. She looked away. "Gwyn?" Came his voice again. Her heart ached as she looked over

to Azriel's concerned face, trying to keep her sorrow reeled in within her. His shadows were frantically jumping around them. "Is everything alright, why'd you ask?" She gave him her best smile. "Yes of course." she waved it off. " just curious." He didn't seem convinced at the slightest but didn't push as he held up a water bottle and drank. Gwyn couldn't stop herself then, She was still his friend, He deserved to be happy, even if not with her. She'd help him pursue Eris. Even if the male would never deserve Az. "So I take it you're into males?" Az choked on the water he was drinking. "What?" He croaked out. Gwyn rose an eyebrow. "Males Shadowsinger, the ones that usually have a d*ck and insufferable egos but pea sized brains?" Azriel looked amused. "You forget that I'm a male too priestess." "Didn't." She muttered and leveled him with a bored stare. "Answer the question Spymaster." Az looked away, his gaze probably searching for Eris. "I've had male lovers in the past. But I've never felt a strong attraction, especially romantic attraction to them over five centuries. Pretty sure nothing's changed now." "Then Eris- how, He's an exception?" Azriel looked at her with a bewildered expression eyes widened. "Eris? What-why, what about him Gwyn?" Gwyn rolled her eyes, hands on her hips, looking down at him. "Quit the puppy eyes act Az. It fine admitting you're attracted to Eris, he's okayish. You'd look good together I guess. Enemies to Lovers arc, angsty slow burn romance,," she shrugged nonchalantly even though she was fuming inside. Az's shadows dropped. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Should he laugh, should he be hurt, or angry maybe? Eris? Of all people in Prythian, HIM? Gwyn though he was attracted to THAT male? "Gwyneth." He started in an emotionless tone face solemn, "What the actual fuck led you to THAT conclusion?" "Oh please. It was evident, for all that being Spymaster and stuff, you sure are obvious about your crushes. I mean for starts, you HATE him, or at least ACT like you do. That's always the first step to enemies to lovers. And then you guys are ALWAYS bantering! Score 2. And did you SEE that tension while you were sparring? AND Flirting with Eris? Its clear as day 'Mr. I show No Emotion'. And Redheads? Seriously Az, could you have even tried and been any more subtle? Az looked at her for a dead half a minute and then burst out laughing so hard that everyone in the training arena were now staring at them in pure shock to see the infamous Spymaster laughing his ass off. Az looked at her, trying to stop laughing, but one look at her angry face and he burst out in fits all over again. Gwyn kicked him good and hard in the knee. "Ouch!" He yelled, not stopped laughing as he held his knee. "Gwyn- I oh Cauldron. Wait." He heaved in and out. "Good shot Berdara." He said with a hint of pride, still chuckling. Gwyn kicked him again. "Nice try deflecting Spymaster." Az shook his head rapidly, still trying to catch his breath. He calmed down and looked at her. "Gwyneth Berdara. My darling. You thought I was attracted to Eris?" He started laughing again. Gwyn grew nervous, "You're not? But you said Redhead, Stubborn, Fiery attitude, Competitive. Eris is all that." "Well I'm not attracted to Eris. AT ALL. Please don't ever say or even think of that again. Please. For the sake of my sanity." Gwyn sighed in relief. "Sorry, I assumed Wrong." But then she tensed again. "But then, if not Eris, then..." She trailed off. If he wasn't attracted to Eris, then who else was it? Redheads? Lucien? Az stood up and held her arms. "Gwyn. Gwyn look at me." She looked up at him with weary eyes. "Can you think of a better Redhead? A stubborn, competitive, fierce one? She's fearless and strong." Gwyn scrunched her nose in thought. A she, was it Vassa? He flicked her nose. "She's a Valkyrie Gwyn." A Valkyrie? There weren't many new ones other than her, Emerie and Nesta, only about two or three. She looked around to see if there were any redheads in them. Az rubbed his hands on his face. "Mother's sake Gwyn,

its YOU." Her eyes shot to his in disbelief. He liked HER? "I- you, me?" She pointed a finger to herself. "You like me?" Azriel was furiously blushing red, he rubbed the back of his neck giving her a sided grin. "Yeah...that's what I'm saying..." Gwyn thought she was going to burst with all the emotions. "I-" Before she could say anything else Eris walked up to them. "Break over yet Shadowsinger?" He smirked. Gwyn growled, literally growled and stepped in front of Az. "Stay away from him Eris, find someone else to play fight. If I see you anywhere near him or talking to him, I swear to the mother, I will rip your throat out." Eris took a step back at her promised violence. "Hiding behind a female, Scared of losing Spymaster?" Gwyn took a step at him, she was certain she'd show Eris hell today. "Leave us alone Eris. I've scored my best win today." He said, looking at Gwyn fondly and putting a hand on her shoulder. Eris snorted and left muttering something to himself. "So..., are we going to talk about how adorable you are when you're jealous and angry? Especially over Eris?" Az teased her with a huge grin and happy eyes "I have no idea what you're talking about." Gwyn shrugged in charming irreverence. His gaze darkened as he looked into her ocean eyes, "You never finished what you were saying before asshole Eris butted in?" Gwyn gave him a soft smile before reaching up to his collar and pulling him down so she could kiss him. She pecked his lips once slightly before letting go and grinning at him while she walked away, leaving Az to process what happened and blush furiously like a teenager. He watched Gwyn walk away in victory. Mother, this female never failed to amaze him, And he was certain that this wouldn't be the last time. For the first time in five centuries, Az found hope. Found himself looking forward for the next day, and the rest of his life. Something sparked in his chest at the thought, A smile unconciously made way to his lips, like every time he thought of Gwyn; and this time, he didnt make to erase it. He'd let it for the world to see, the happiness Gwyneth Berdara brought to his life.

It's not about them talking exactly, but this seemed more fun to write😅

I tried! Not sure if it was good enough, but I've never really tried writing from Gwyn's POV.

Feedback, suggestions and other ideas always welcome!

[demonlovesangel]

Elucien VS Elriel throughout the books

Brace yourselves because this is going to be a LONG post but I'm going to do it because people seem to disregard Elain's feelings at all times, especially regarding how she reacts around both Lucien and Azriel. So here we go!

And by the way I'm only going to count actual interactions to make it fair, and the most important ones because if not I would be here all day.

Acomaf

Elucien

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him-

~

But Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder.

At Lucien- whose face she had finally taken in.

Elriel

Elain said, "It's all very disorienting."

"I can imagine," Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare but Azriel's attention was on my sister, a polite bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

~

Rhys chuckled, Cassian's wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel's ease as proof that things weren't indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.

In Acomaf we can see the start of both relationships, but they start with a real difference. Elain and Azriel get along from the very beginning, whereas with Lucien she cringes away because he's one of the reasons she was turned and she doesn't know him, even if she did realize he's her mate.

With Azriel though they talk about his flying, how beautiful it is, she smiles and asks him directly every time. Their interactions come naturally.

Acowar

Elucien

For a long moment, Elain's face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. "Lucien," she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. "From my sister's stories. Her friend."

"Yes."

But Elain blinked slowly. "You were in Hybern."

"Yes." It was all he could say.

"You betrayed us."

He wished she'd shoved him out of the window behind her. "It- it was a mistake."

Her eyes went frank and cold. "I was to be married in a few days."

~

She looked away- towards the windows. "I can hear your heart," she said quietly.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

"When I sleep," she murmured, "I can her your heart beating through the stone." She angled her head, as if the city held some answer. "Can you hear mine?"

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, "No, lady. I cannot."

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked- not really." A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. "He did. He saw me. He will not now."

~

Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. "It felt... strange," Elain breathed. "Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib."

Lucien exposed his palms to her. "I'm sorry."

Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded as she shook her head...

~

But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow the movement hiding the gleam of his eye- the longing and sadness.

And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go... He did not glance back at Elain.

Did not see the half step she took towards the stairs- as if she'd speak to him. Stop him.

~

"I'm fine," Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, "Are you-"

"Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but... Yes, I'm in one piece."

A faint smile bloomed on Elain's lips.

~

Lucien shrugged. "First- here. To help. Then..." Another glance at Elain. "Who knows?"

I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, "You could come to Velaris."

Elriel

Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face.

Azriel smiled faintly. "Would you like me to show you the garden?"

She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breath of his shoulder. The wings peeking over them.

But Elain did not balk from him did not shy away as she nodded- just once.

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn't tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, "Beautiful."

~

"I can help her," said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his finger as he extended a hand.

Nesta monitored him like a hawk but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.

~

The shadowsinger angled his head.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, "Should we- does she need...?"

"She doesn't need anything," Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now- unblinkingly.

"We're the ones who need..." Azriel trailed off. "A seer," He said, more to himself than us. "The Cauldron made you a seer."

~

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

~

Yet Elain didn't seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger's cheek...

~

Elain weighed my words... And slowly closed her fingers around the blade.

(...)

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

What is funny to me here, is how the relationship between Elain and Lucien seems forced but at the same time they kind of try. She directly says to him he betrayed them, continued to ignore him and eventually she did try to get close (in her own way) but apparently decided against it. And at the end even Feyre has to nudge Elain to say something to Lucien, which she did.

Elain's relationship with Az starts off from him putting her down on the town house's foyer, and her never balking away from him. Like literally never, in all their interactions she takes his arm, his hands, looks at him unblinkingly, and even kisses his cheek. Ends up accepting Truth-Teller too, and locking eyes with Azriel. The sweetest girl is not afraid of the most frightening illyrian male... Considering how Elain is, that says a lot.

You can look at this in many ways, but no one can deny that by this book, Az and Elain have a mutual understanding and chemistry.

Acofas

Elucien

A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. "Both of you."

Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.

~

My sister rose to her feet. "I should get refreshments."

Lucien rose as well. "No need to trouble yourself. I'm-"

But she was already out of the room.

Elriel

Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants.

I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.

(...)

But I strode to my seat- nestled between Amren and Mor- in time to see Elain say to Azriel, "Hello."

(...)

But Azriel only took Elain's heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, "Sit. I'll take care of it."

Elain's hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them...

~

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. "It's for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often."

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

(...)

Elain smiled again, ducking her head.

~

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room my sister showing him the plans she'd sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.

Honestly, for me, this is by far the most telling book even if it is a novella.

The interaction between Lucien and Elain was so forced. She didn't want to be there, he was kind of uncomfortable too and he even says he can't stand being in the same room as her. Afterwards Elain clearly shows no interest in him and even leaves the room. And Elain says to Feyre that he's not entitled to her affections of attentions, we really need to pay attention to her!

With Azriel though... Wow, their interactions just kept on growing and growing. Elain is clearly affected when she looks at him, her throat bobs, she gets all shy (in a good way), smiles at him too, and even gifts him the headache powder because she was paying attention to him throughout the previous months. That clearly says how much she's been noticing Azriel. Not to mention she explains all her gardening plans and they stay talking after everyone went to bed.

I honestly think it's really cute and that's how a relationship should develop.

Acosf

Elucien

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

~

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of the newfound boldness to be seen.

Elriel

"I always thought she was born on the wrong side of the wall," Elain admitted. "She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two," she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.

~

"I was just checking on dessert," Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly, she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

By this point it's just painfully obvious. Both Lucien and Elain are uncomfortable with each other even if Lucien still does try (but I still think it's because of the mating bond, not because he likes her). He even says in a previous chapter that he's not always in Velaris to see his mate and looks uncomfortable saying that.

With Azriel we can see something has happened or is happening. Small glances, Elain getting shy but smiling at him, him smiling at her and her looking away? That charged look? Elain's breath caught slightly? There's definitely something going on there and we know what it is from Az's PoV. By that point they have been looking at each other, smiling and brushing hands, not to mention Elain started every single interaction in that PoV. She wanted to kiss him, and gifted him another funny and thoughtful gift yet again because she notices him.

~

I didn't put every single one of the interactions, just the ones that said a lot from Elain's reactions because that's the point of this post, to show how she clearly acts around the two males. And I didn't put the PoV because it's a bonus chapter even when it clarifies Elain's feelings.

With Lucien it's forced, she cringes away, doesn't know what to do, and in the end she's just uncomfortable and clearly doesn't want anything regarding their situation.

With Azriel it started off naturally, they developed a friendship with mutual understanding and respect, and it evolved into something else. The interest in each other was always there. Clearly both of them don't know what to do with this because the feelings are strong and have been there for a long time (at the very least a year because of the last Winter Solstice). From the PoV we know it's not easy, even if both of them like each other (Elain has a mate whether she likes it or not). By this point, because of all the external influences, they can't be together, but I think that's what going to play off in her book, choice.

We need to take into account Elain's reactions and choices. Elain's book is most probably the next one, she's going to be the main character as Feyre and Nesta were. What she wants or needs is what matters, not what everyone else thinks. And from all her scenes we can gather that she's going to fight to make everyone change their mind regarding what she wants to do, who she wants to be.

As you would with a female friend, be supportive of her journey and choices and don't bring her down because it's not what you would have chosen for yourself. Everyone deserves the world, and everyone needs to follow their own path and make their own choices.

[hlizr50]

These Scars Paint the Map that Led Me to You

Azriel and Gwyn both have scars, and both are determined to show the other that those scars are just as beautiful as the rest of them.

Read on AO3

Part 1: Azriel

“You’re brooding, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel could feel the Valkyrie’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up.

“I don’t brood, Berdara.” He kept his gaze firmly on the report in front of him, eyes narrowed. He didn’t understand how there could be so little intelligence. He had personally surveyed every location and made sure that every spy was in the most prime of positions to overhear and intercept information. It had been a time-consuming, harrowing endeavor, and it had taken him too far from home for far too long. It was the first long mission he’d undertaken since he had started spending considerably more time with the copper-haired priestess lounging in the settee across the room – since they had started sharing more than banter and nights running away from nightmares – and every minute away had put him more and more on edge.

Gwyn snorted.

“I love when you lie to yourself.” He heard the dampened clap as she snapped her book closed, but he still refused to meet her gaze. The shadowsinger could feel the intensity of those teal eyes boring into his profile, and he wasn’t prepared to compound his frustration with the questions he would find there – questions that would turn into an ocean of concern. He leaned back into his chair, tilting his head further and sighing in exasperation. His breathing was deep, measured, as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. The rustle of fabric was the only indication that Gwyn had moved, but he remained focused on his breathing and the bitter burn of failure in his chest. Where was Koschei? Why couldn’t he find anything at all?

“Azriel.”

Her voice was quiet, the softest of melodies that always seemed to help silence the infernal voices that threatened to tear him apart. He opened his eyes when he felt her hands on his shoulders, graceful fingers feeling for the knots of tension and seeking to soothe them from where she stood nestled neatly between his wings. Azriel grinned half-heartedly, eyes roaming from the silken locks that nearly brushed his forehead to the constellations of freckles that painted her cheeks, to the deep sea of her stare that had darkened with concern, to full pink lips that were pursed. “What terrible lies are you telling yourself this time, Shadowsinger? Tell me, so that I might prove you wrong.” The small smile he had tried to use on her faltered, so he just sighed and reached up to gently wrap his fingers around her forearms.

It never ceased to take him by surprise how thoroughly she understood him. Gwyneth Berdara so easily saw past his practiced mask of indifference and coldness. It had alarmed him at first, but he had found a surprising comfort in her companionship. She had always made it known that she could see right through him, but she would never pry, never push him to share things with her that he wasn’t ready to admit.

He kept his hands on her arms, closing his eyes as he brushed his fingers up and down the soft velvet sleeves the color of the forest at midnight. He loved when she didn’t wear her robes, instead opting for casual gowns (a taste she had likely inherited from Nesta) or the practical tunic and leggings, which were much easier to fight in should the need arise. Gwyn looked beautiful no matter what clothing covered her tall, lean frame, but he could not deny how those dresses made him burn for her.

“Lies, priestess?” He murmured, trying to soothe her worry and direct the conversation away from his internal self-loathing.

“Oh yes, Shadowsinger. You tell many lies.” He felt the brush of lips on his forehead and the subsequent heat that crept up his neck. “But like I said, I love when you do.” And he let his eyes drift open again. She stared back down at him, a wry smile accompanying eyes dancing with stars.

“I’m afraid I’ll need you to elaborate.” His hands had stopped their exploration of her arms and had come to rest back where they had started. He drummed his fingers for emphasis, waiting for her explanation.

“You of all people should know, Azriel, how I strive to prove you wrong,” she snickered. “But in this, especially. I have well-crafted arguments against some of my favorite lies of yours.” Azriel quirked an eyebrow in question and he could have melted at the softness he found looking back at him. Gwyn pulled away from his grasp and circled around to his side, only to reach for a scarred hand again. She tugged at him, willing the Illyrian to abandon his reports. “Come sit with me for a moment.”

He put on a show of being asked to step away from his work even though he knew that he could not refuse her. She knew it, too, but she was still gentle with him and gave him an encouraging smile and a quiet request.

“Please, Az.”

He wound his fingers between hers and moved first, pulling her toward the couch she had been sitting on moments before. The pale blue upholstery was faded, the buttons rubbed bald where they tufted the cushions. Nesta had insisted that the well-worn fabric only served to prove how impossibly comfortable the settee was, and therefore replacing it was out of the question. He sat down without letting go of the pale hand that glowed like moonlight in his tanned grasp, wings draped over the corner where the back and armrest met. He pulled the redhead down between his legs, drawing her sideways into his chest. His free hand found her hip and immediately started massaging easy circles with his mangled fingers. She drew their connected hands up between her chest and his.

“These are my favorite lies that you tell.” Gwyn’s voice was so gentle that he couldn’t even muster the tension he usually felt when he knew someone had noticed the mottled whorls of skin that covered his fingers, hands, and wrists. He had never felt the need to hide them from her – yet another surprise. The list was becoming quite extensive.

“What… what do you mean?” Azriel croaked, unsure of what to expect. From Gwyn, he supposed, he should not have any expectations. They would be shattered by her wit and candor.

“You tell yourself that your hands are disgusting. That they have done terrible things and they make you undeserving of compassion and love. A bald-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one.” He tensed, hand pausing on her hip. He studied her face, mostly hidden by a curtain of fiery chestnut, but found her attention centered on his hand in hers. She used a finger to trace the scars over his knuckles, taking her time to follow each line until it reached the next, an intricate map of flesh. Azriel’s skin pebbled, a tremor rumbling through him at the attention, the awe and adoration in her touch.

“Gwyn…” He breathed, but he couldn’t form the words. The priestess dipped her chin and pressed her lips to each of his long fingers, then to each of his knuckles, then to the scars on the back of his hand. Keeping one hand wound tightly with his she reached her other hand to cup his cheek, finally lifting her lashes to peer up at him. His chest swelled as she smiled widely, eyes glittering with challenge.

“Are you ready for my well-crafted arguments?”

The shadowsinger chuckled, keenly aware of her body against his. He squeezed lightly over her hip and answered, “I’m guessing I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

“You are correct.” She tapped the tip of his nose before returning her hand to his cheek and then tracing those cool alabaster fingers down to rest on his neck. She let her thumb stroke idly over his jaw. He felt like he could barely breathe under the gaze that she had fixed on him. Her teal eyes were bright with sincerity and compassion, but her smile was sad. He knew why – he had always been consumed with hatred for himself and the things he had done, and she hated that he felt that way.

“I don’t think I will ever be able to think about what was done to you without being absolutely torn apart, Azriel. It was cruel and it was wrong. You were a child. It breaks my heart. It was a disgusting act, but these hands are the furthest thing from disgusting.” She squeezed the hand she held at her chest and Azriel wrapped his other hand further around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him. She had never moved her eyes from his, and he found it difficult not to cower. But she gave him strength – she had emboldened him for awhile now – and so he held her gaze, mesmerized by her words. “These hands are beautiful. And perfect. And strong. They wield weapons and magic that make the whole of Prythian stand back in awe –“

“They have killed people,” he found himself arguing, an automatic response. Her fingers left his neck and pressed against his mouth, and he finally broke the eye contact she had so fervently held to look down shamefully.

“They have killed people. For your family, for your court. For me. You were there on the worst night of my life, Azriel. You may or may not know the details, but you know what happened to me. And yet here I am in your embrace, even when I can barely venture into the life and light of the city below without collapsing into a puddle of tears and panic. Because these hands… I know it’s you that holds me. I know that your hands are the ones touching me. The comfort that I feel, being able to know that it’s you, cannot be overstated.” Her voice was quiet, but fervent. Azriel could barely fathom her admission. He knew that she would feel remorse for the cruelty that he had endured, but this was so much more than that. “These hands belong to a male that I have never feared, even when I watched you slaughter men, cloaked in shadow. These hands are my safety and my sanctuary. They deserve compassion and understanding and adoration – you deserve those things. It hurts that you think otherwise, but I strive to prove you wrong, as always.”

The shadowsinger kept his priestess pressed against him at her waist and carefully pulled his other hand out of hers to cradle her face. He leaned his forehead against hers and let his ragged breathing betray his vulnerability. She was too good, too pure and perfect. But she was here in his arms, just like she had said. He lifted his gaze and found those teal depths for just a moment before slanting his mouth over hers, reveling in the softness of her. He had always been a man of few words, and while Gwyn had cracked him open wider than anyone in his family had ever seen before he still sometimes struggled to form the words he needed to show her just how incredible she was. He didn’t push to deepen the kiss, but after a moment gently pulled away. The lovely face he found nearly sent him over the edge with want – lips swollen slightly, wide glittering eyes, pink-painted cheeks. He was too overwhelmed with emotion to speak yet, so he buried his face into the crook of her neck, clutching her close with both arms. Her arms were trapped between them, but she had managed to slide her hands around his neck. Azriel felt her fingers gently teasing the hair at his nape as he breathed her in, the scent of water lilies and goodness permeating into his soul.

“Gwyn…” He shuddered against her. “Thank you.”

They remained wrapped in each other, for minutes or hours Azriel couldn’t comprehend. But he knew it, in that moment. It had been so easy to fall for her because this was who she was. She had chosen to be kind when the world had not been kind to her. She had chosen to fight back after she had been made helpless. She had chosen to show him light when she had been thrust into darkness. She saw him and did not cower. She challenged him and accepted his challenge in return. She had put her trust in him, and he could not imagine a greater gift.

So he held her against him and breathed her in, relishing in her heat and her light and her trust. And for the first time in his five centuries of life he thanked the Cauldron for the scars that marred his hands, the paths she had traced on the map of his skin – a map that had led his heart to her.

@trashforazriel @tealnymph-writes

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together.

Pirate au pt 4

azriel was so insanely close to sucker punching berdara. but unfortunately the bargain forbid him from hurting her until after they found the huge hall

he was heading towards his own ship when gwyneth stopped him. “pick your best men I can fit 5 maximum of you on my ship” 

“and why exactly are we taking your ship” 

“and why are you determined to be difficult” he nearly laughed at that, him difficult when she had spent the last 10 minutes toying with him at every chance. 

“I am determined to be fair, we’ll play for it” 

that peaked her interest as her eyes went wide “sword fighting, combat, cards, good old fashioned fists?!?” what was with this girl and fighting.

“uh no I was going to suggest rock paper scissors.” 

“who hurt you to make you so damn boring” 

“who made you a masochist” 

gwyneth didn’t falter for a second “wouldn’t you like to know” she said with a lazy grin

“so majesty are we going to play or not?” 

“best of three”

she put her fist up in answer. 

once again I’ll cut to the chase, after many rounds and accused cheatings azriel won 

“Oh fuck off” she grumbled while he smirked triumphantly 

“that’s not very nice gwyneth” obviously her response was to give him the finger

“bite me” 

“don’t give me any ideas” 

“do what you need to do we leave at dawn” 

“you’re going to be a delight on my ship aren’t you” 

“always am” with that they went back to their respective crews and ships to prepare. 

now that she had left to her own ship azriel thought over what had just happened. he wasn’t so much of a fool that he couldn’t admit she was  beautiful, with hair of flaming locks and a slightly insane look in her eye. there was something about her that despite being incredibly violent she radiated a certain amount of joy. every insult, every quip was said with a bright smile on her face. and she had pinned him with an alarming amount of ease but he wouldn’t let that happen a second time

and fucking hell he had made a bargain. well he knew for sure this journey was going to be something else alright 

on the shadowsinger azriel made an announcement to his crew “everyone sit your asses down and listen up. 5 ladies from the silver majesty are coming aboard our ship to assist us in our search for the huge hall. I am under bargain that no harm will come to any of them, so by affiliation every person aboard the shadowsinger is under the same bargain. you have any questions, take it up with rhys and cassian. I have shit to do in preparation for this voyage and to make sure our other ‘business partners’ stay up and running in our absence. do not bother me” 

about an hour later he was once again alone in his chambers with his first mate and quartermaster. 

“so you really believe they can lead us to it” cassian asked

“I believe that she made a bargain and knows the severity of a bargain.” 

“you bound yourself to the captain of our biggest rival, who you currently want to murder, captain I trust you with my life but I hope you know what you’ve gotten us into” rhys ever the strategist 

I hope so to he thought instead he said “I have thought over every possible outcome and we will come out of this with the huge hall and their heads strung up like trophies nailed to the wall.” 

————— gwyn’s pov at the same moment—————

alright crew fortunately the shadowsinger is on board, pun not intended, unfortunately I lost rock paper scissors and now I will be choosing 5 of us to join them in our hunt for the huge hall. so Em, archeron, VIv, and cressieda you guys are coming with me, bring only as many weapons as you can fit on your person. nuala cerridwen you guys are in charge. if everything is not in order by the time I get back I will start slitting throats. there are instructions in my chambers. so fuck, drink, steal, kill you guys know the drill.” 

gwyn sat with nesta and emerie strategizing 

“how do you see this playing out” nesta asked 

“oh we are going to walk away from this bleeding money with the shadowsinger kneeling at our feet” 

------------------------back to azriel’s pov------------------------

azriel watched as for the first time since he had become a pirate, there were women on his ship indefinitely. to gwyneth’s right stood a tall slender women, with her hair in a simple braid, she was assessing his ship with eyes that looked far too old for her age

to berdara’s left was a thin women with eyes that cut through him, they were sharp and very resentful. she was devastatingly beautiful with two katanas at her hips. behind them were two women with white hair but their differences lay in their skin tone. one had the fair skin of the winter court while the other had dark skin that contrasted her hair marking her as from the summer court. 

azriel looked over to his own crew. cassian was starring at the female with the swords practically drooling over himself while rhys looked indifferent. 

lucien was also starring at the women to gwyneth’s left but he looked at her like he recognized her rather then whatever the fuck cassian was doing 

the women noticed cassian and immediately threw a dagger at his head. it didn’t miss by much. 

“hey!” cassian shouted. “if you had chopped off my hair I swear to fucking god I will rip out your throat like its nothing” 

the girl looked him up and down and ignored him. “really you could have killed me”

so obviously she threw another one. it fell right between his arm and ribs

“berdara can I have a word please?”

“of course”

“rhys please make sure they don’t kill each other” 

“no promises” he replied not looking up

gwyn followed him into his room. 

“so shadowsinger, what do you want to talk about?” she gave him a light punch on the shoulder. he glared at her

“what do I want to talk about? hmm how about that girl just threw a dagger at my quartermaster. twice!”

“ok 1 that girls name is nesta and 2 if she wanted him dead he would be. so I consider that a great success” gwyn smiled earnestly. 

“are you forgetting the bargain we just made?”

“clearly threats were not taking off the table or have you forgotten ‘i will dump you in the river’ or ‘i’m going to shoot you in the head’ or ‘i will leave your guts across the 7 courts’ etc. hers was just a little more physical thats all.” 

“well can you try to control your crew” cheap shot but worth it, until gwyn broke out into a fit of laughter.

“me? control nesta? I thought you said you’ve heard the stories, you must have heard about the time she climbed 6 mountains in 5 different courts to find a man who ripped her off by 2 coppers. coppers! and I was all ‘that’s my girl’  because if there was one thing I’ve learned in this business it would be that men will take every single opportunity to tear you down but they can’t do that if they don’t have limbs.” 

“great so your entire crew is just as insane as you are”

“we maybe insane but at least we aren’t crying over every dagger that comes within an inch of our hearts.” 

“yes I’m sorry we would rather not fucking die”

“oh poor you, you must be a truly terrible pirate if death doesn’t stop at your door every once in a while.” 

“you know I am very much regretting working with you at this moment”

“wait you aren’t in love with me? shocker.” gwyn’s whole demeanor changed and she brightened as if some realization struck. “but that reminds me I was told I need your help to find the treasure and I certainly don’t need more man power so how will you be contributing?”

“I had thought about that and I was think about something you-”

“aww you think about me?” azriel rolled his eyes

“I was thinking about something you said and I would like you to elaborate on the blank map.”

“no please?”

“please” he forced out 

“well my informant who found me the map has never been wrong before and my witch says it reeks of magic.” 

“you think its spelled.” 

“I do”

“and you think I am going to help you uncover the magic?”

“indubitably” azriel was kind of impressed by her certainty

“aren’t you?”

“yes” he grumbled

“thought so, I’m smart like that.” 

“of course you are perfect in every way possible” 

“look any other day I would love for you to shower me in accurate compliments but we are kind of on a time crunch” 

“yes majesty”

“you know what its kind of growing on me, I too consider myself a queen” 

az ignored that and went to his closet. he opened the doors and unlocked the safe taking out the only thing in there. it was a small vile that contained a vibrant blue liquid. he gently carried it over to gwyn

“this is the last liquid fashioned by the last pheonix to ever exist”

“oh my fucking god you have pheonix piss” gwyn was practically jumping with glee. 

“I mean I wouldn’t exactly put it that way but yes, the liquid of the pheonix was said to act as a serum to reveal ones truth. it should be powerful enough to break through any ward or spell. and while mostly used on people it should work on objects too.”

“wait wait wait, that could get you millions and you’re going to use it on this??”

“who’s drooling now? yes it could but this hall could get me more and I’d prefer it not in the hands of certain people.”  

“alright I mean not really how I operate but it’s yours so you can do whatever you want with it.” “glad you approve, map?” gwyn cautiously pulled out the blank map and set it down on the table. 

he opened the vile and began to pour it over the map, praying that this would not be in vain. the vile had cost him greatly. he looked down and gwyn stole the words from his mouth “holy fucking shit.”