#don’t make eye contact youll turn to stone

[friendlynaborhooddisapointment]

Ya’ll im working on a deku is madusa’s son au cuz im a sucker for greek mythology and lets be honest, his hair looks like seaweed (ppptttt op? nooooo...)

[vintagesewingmachine]

The Shadowsinger - Azriel Fic - Part 6/?

Azriel struggles to contain his feelings - for Elain, for Mor, for himself- and a jewel thief is running around Velaris, causing confusion. And with Cassian in Illyria, Azriel feels alone in his darkness. Into this mess waltzes a stranger, an enigma who calls herself Amuten with a mysterious past and connection to Amren.

Warning: angst, depressed thoughts, self-loathing, dark azriel, cold azriel, anxiety, graphic depictions of violence

dont worry there is happy Az too

<<First -- Next>>

Also note: part fives being a jerk so youll just have to search my blog for it. it wont link up so i linked part one instead

The lake was deep and clear, so clear you could see the bottom. It was tucked away in another small valley, and surrounded by evergreen trees. Azriel landed on the rocky shore, did a quick scan to make sure it was empty, and then winnowed to a cafe in Velaris to await Amuten.

******

She was several minutes late. But she was wearing Illyrian leathers that fit perfectly. They were in very good condition, but looked old nonetheless. She had thick black hair in a long braid, tanned skin covering Illyrian features, and purple eyes. And wings. Azriel stood when he saw her. He nodded in greeting, and she replied, "Good morning, Azriel." He held out a scarred hand. "Let's go." He whisked them away in darkness. 

*****

"What a stunning location," Amuten murmured when she opened her violet eyes. The shadowsinger nodded his agreement. He did love this lake. 

Taking a quick scan of her folded wings, he said, "Can you unfold your wings please? I need to take a look at them."

"Of course," the female chirped, eyes twinkling. "Just don't feel put out when they're bigger than yours." Azriel's eyes widened slightly as he raised them to look into her mirthful orbs. A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"I promise not to be put out, Amuten. I've had five hundred years of having a larger wingspan than my brothers, to their unending frustration."

Her laugh rang out, loud and clear. Then she snapped her wings open, a whoosh of wind ruffling his hair. Mild surprise rippled through him; they were... well, for lack of a better word, perfect. Smooth black velvet covered more muscle than he was expecting, and they were indeed large, though it was questionable whether or not they were bigger than his. And unlike Feyre's, where he had had to correct and direct her shaping them, they were flawlessy natural. Unaltered by Amuten's shifting abilities, and unmarked. Azriel circled her slowly, inspecting. Her wings didn't tremble or droop as she held them out, and she seemed relaxed. Finally he came to a halt in front of her. "Have you excersised your wings without actually flying? They are well muscled and you seem to be comfortable with holding them aloft."

"Yeah," she said. "But you can't fly."

"Yeah," she said, quirking an eyebrow. "Got any new information?" 

Azriel's lips twitched. "Plenty."

Amuten gave a quiet chuckle. "But seriously, how are we gonna start?"

Azriel tilted his head, considering. She was already more advanced than Feyre, having always been half Illyrian, and knowing how to move her wings. "You're going to jump off that rock."

Her face split into a grin. "Sweet." Now it was the spymaster's turn to raise a brow. "You're excited to jump off a giant rock?" "Heck yes! Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to fly? I mean, I've been airborne before, and I have a basic understanding of how it works, but I've never truly flown," she said fervently. "And I cannot tell you how much it means that you'd be willing to teach me." Azriel just nodded his head. "Well, better start then."

*****

Four hours later, they were both ready to stop. Four hours of hard work on Amuten's part, mixed of course with sassy and innapropriate comments, and unending patience on Azriel's end. 

Strands of curling hair stuck to Amuten's light brown skin, and a small bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face. But she was grinning like she had just recieved a large box of her favourite chocolate. Azriel was happy too; the female's enthusiasm and determination was so, so contagious. With strong wings already, Amuten had been able to keep up very well. And he suspected that after only two or possibly one more lesson, she could be well on her way to being an amazing flier. Amuten huffed a breath of cool mountain air. "Man, I haven't worked like that in a while. I've become a slacker." She hummed as she stretched her wings before folding them up behind her. They say down on the pebbly lakeshore and stared out at the water. Azriel tossed a small stone into it, watching the water erupt upwards, then fall back down and rejoin the body of liquid, causing ripples that lapped at his boots. For a moment, the sun had lit the airborne water, and something about it made Azriel feel... well, he didn't know how to describe it. Quiet wonder? Shifting rocks drew his notice to the female sitting beside him. Amuten had changed into a cross-legged position and was eyeing the lake. Without looking at him, she asked, "Can you swim with wings?" Azriel blinked. He had not been expecting this. "Yes." His answer satisfied her, and she laid back to stare at the sky. Azriel turned his attention back to the water. ***** Dinner with the Inner Circle was quiet. Azriel was baffled. Mor seemed distant, Nesta and Cassian kept glancing at eachother and smiling like lovesick fools, Rhys was frowning, Feyre was frowning at Rhysand frowning, Amren was staring at nothing, and Elain seemed absorbed with her food. The silence made him uneasy, but he took another bite of stew instead of saying anything. "So, Az," Rhys started. Azriel's stomach dropped at the tone of voice. Another suspicious questioning. An unpleasant emotion started boiling in his gut. Couldn't he have his own life without being questioned? Rhys continued, "I haven't seen you all day. Where've you been?" Azriel set down his spoon, and shadows started snaking around him. He looked right into Rhysand's violet eyes with a challenge and said chillingly, "Out." The entire room went taut with shock at Azriel's response. Nesta and Cassian exchanged glances, Feyre frowned at him, Amren turned her silver eyes to him, Mor tilted her head, and Rhysand stared at him. Azriel did not turn away, even when Elain's fork clattered slightly as she set it down. Suddenly the image of water popped into Azriel's mind. Like that pebble, his one word had caused needlessly large ripples. He had no reason to be so confrontational. What did his feelings matter? It wasn't as if he really had a life to be questioned about. His family deserved better than this attitude. Better than him. So he swallowed his emotions, broke eye contact with Rhys and picked up his spoon. "I was out. With a... friend," he said quietly. The tension abated a bit, but remained uneasy. Nobody said anything else, and Azriel felt consumed with guilt. Why did he have to screw everything up? Rhys - his brother - had just been asking about his day. Why was he so on edge? The war was over, the Illyrians settled. Aside from some normal issues, it was peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that he had heard from Nuala and Cerridwen that Rhys and Feyre had stopped taking tonics. Cauldron, he had some issues. He was so broken. It took a moment to realize that Azriel hadn't actually been eating his stew, just staring at it intently. So he choked down another mouthful, his shadows starting to cover him, and left. 

*****

Elain was sitting in Feyre's living room with her sisters, chatting like sisters do. There was still some tension between Nesta and Feyre, but they were working through it. And with Nesta's wedding, the three and Mor were very excited. Azriel refused to think that he was creeping. He was just... observing. Without their knowledge. Not creeping. His shadows allowed him to remain undetected as he... observed... from his corner. Elain's voice was full of happiness as she asked, "When should the wedding be?" "Well," Nesta said slowly. "Originally Cassian and I were just planning to be officially declared mated and then have a little party. Not like a huge human wedding." "Oh," said Elain at the same time Feyre said, "That makes sense." "But of course you'll be there," Nesta said quickly to her sisters. Azriel admired how much she was trying to mend the damaged relationship with them. They talked about Elain's gardens for a while, and then Feyre asked slyly, "Hasn't Az been helping you?" Elain blushed. Azriel grew uncomfortable in his shadows. Okay, maybe he was creeping. Just a little. But he was too curious to leave, even though he knew he should. "Well, yeah," Elain replied. "Sometimes he helps me. It - it doesn't mean anything though. He's just being nice." Azriel frowned. Was that what she thought? He watched carefully. Wow. Now he was in full on spy mode. Nesta and Feyre exchanged glances. "Sure," they said. "The spymaster of the High Lord of the Night Court helping you plant flowers doesn't mean anything." Elain blushed more. She was adorable when she blushed. Wait, what? Azriel wanted to growl in annoyance as his shadows seemed to chuckle at his thoughts. "It doesn't!" Elain protested. "I mean, he hasn't really even talked to me in a while. He seems so busy all the time." Her voice grew sad, and Azriel grew appalled. Did Elain think he didn't want to spend time with her? 

Well, you have been avoiding her. 

Real helpful. He repressed the urge to swat at his shadows. Feyre sighed. "Look, we all have our days. I do, Rhys does, you do. I'm sure Azriel will brood for a bit and then come to his senses and take you on a date." Elain went flushed profusely. So did Azriel. "A DATE?" She squealed. "We - I mean - He doesnt-" Even Nesta raised her sharp eyebrows. "Elain, he helps you plant flowers for Mother's sake. And don't think anybody misses the way you look at him during training. I'm honestly surprised you haven't jumped him yet." A violent shade of red covered both Elain and Azriel's faces. Nope, nope nope. He was leaving. Right now. Azriel winnowed away. But... A date. Ideas swam in his head.

*****

A date. With Elain. He fidgeted with the paper he had written ideas on. His shadows were nowhere to be seen at the moment. Did he even have a right to take her on a date? But she had seemed so crestfallen. It didn't even have to be real date. He could just take her out for some fun. They were friends, after all. Right? Azriel sighed and rubbed his face. A headache started to form, and he groaned at his muddled thoughts. Cauldron. He was a mess. In a sudden flare of frustrated anger, he shoved away from his desk with a growl. Standing, he stalked into his kitchen and grabbed the kettle, filled it with water and set it on the stove. Leaving it to boil, he opened a cupboard and grabbed a mug. After he set that down, he opened a another cupboard and rifled through a couple of different teas before settling on chamomile. The kettle started whisling, adding to his headache. He took it off and poured the steaming water into the mug, letting the tea steep as he looked for some honey. He added generous amounts of the sweet amber substance. Azriel took a cautious sip, letting the hot liquid sear his throat. He blew on it, then took another sip, still standing beside the counter. The chamomile soothed his headache, and the shadowsinger took a seat at his old, small table. He studied each mark, each nick in the dark wood, trying to remember how each one had gotten there. Nursing his tea, he thought back to when he had first acquired the apartment, and why. It had been centuries ago, not too long after Rhysand had become High Lord, the war ended. The Inner Circle had had a less than pleasant meeting, leaving Azriel much more upset than he let on. He had loathed the thought of returning to the House of Wind, and he craved privacy and solitude from his obnoxious brothers, and Mor. Mor. The female he had loved for countless years, and still did. Her name sent waves of sickening feelings through his gut. Azriel took a long draught of tea. So he had decided to buy himself a private residence, one that the others wouldn't know about. He subtly moved most of his possessions there, and had purchased some simple, minimalist furnishings. Including an adequate bed, a sturdy desk, a dresser, a chair, and this table. The shadowsinger thumbed one mark, a deep gouge. It had been left by Truth Teller. The night Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain by Amarantha. Azriel had needed to get away from Cassian and Mor and Amren, had needed to release his pain far from their prying, concerned eyes. In his rage and anguish, he had plunged the dagger into the center of the table. The dagger that was supposed to tell truths, to drag them in screams of agony out of those who wished to harm his Court, his family. It had failed him that night. The only night in over five hundred years. So he had almost destroyed the table with it. Other memories swam before his eyes, tied to other marks. A carved mark with remnants of stained blood led to images of a difficult night of torture. He had come home, hands slick with blood, still clutching Truth Teller tightly through the slippery liquid. He had leaned down, putting all his weight onto his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to calm his breathing. The dagger had accidentally scratched deeply through the wood. Azriel did not remember who or why he had tortured that night. Only how. He had sliced tendons, and broken bones. First crushing the foot, then snapping the fingers. Cutting open the back of the other ankle, stabbing just under the kneecap. Whoever it was would have crumpled had it not been for the chains suspending them. The spymaster swallowed, and drank more tea. A cluster of small nicks. That had been caused by idle boredom, at one point in time. Azriel was foggy on the details. Perhaps it had been long ago, maybe only months ago. After almost six centuries, memories tended to blur together, or be forgotten entirely. Dangerous for one who's job was gathering information. He sighed and set down his cup. Elain might like to go see a flower shop. There was one full of foreign plants down on Main Street. Weary beyond measure, Azriel divested himself of clothing and collapsed onto his bed. His groan was muffled by a pillow. Tomorrow would no doubt bring some new thing to make his life more miserable. 

*****

Azriel's joints cracked as he stretched sleepily. He twisted his torso and reached towards the ceiling. More bones creaked. He wondered if it was because he was old, or just the amount of abuse his body had endured over the years. Probably both, he thought grimly. His shadows swirled around him, chipper and full of information. Their whispers filled his mind. An emerald bracelet has been returned to its place, the shop on 3rd street.

The High Lord plans to visit the Court of Nightmares soon, in a few days.

Cassian and Nesta are already up at the House of Wind training, at least thats what they had planned - they're up to something else now.

Lucien is almost finished with Jurian and Vassa, and plans to visit the Spring Court before coming to Velaris.

Feyre and Rhysand are still sleeping. 

The Tiny Ancient One is also sleeping.

Elain is awake, and anticipating your presence for breakfast at the High Lady's mansion.

Azriel silently took it all in, going through his daily morning routine. Casual attire, or leathers? What were his plans for the day? Ask the flower-grower on a date. His shadows danced around him. Seek information on the emerald bracelet. Leather first, and then he could change. If Elain said yes. 

*****

Anxiety pricked at Azriel as he struggled to keep steady while eating his breakfast of oatmeal and brown sugar. Would she say yes? What if she said no? He wouldn't blame her, of course. But it would still hurt. The shadows animated his nervousness by scittering around at his feet, behind his back, at his shoulders. He snuck a glance at the source of his anxiety. Elain sat, honey coloured hair cascading down her shoulders, in a sapphire blue gown. She ate sliced fruit, and he couldn't help but stare as a strawberry disappeared between full, pink lips. Azriel shook himself internally. Get a hold of yourself. He took another bite of milky porridge. Friendly chatter filled the room, so different from last night.

"Any plans today, Az?" Cassian asked casually.

Azriel nodded. "I must find out more about the emerald bracelet that was returned to its spot last night." And ask Elain out on a date. "We could train later, if you want." Cass grinned. Raising an eyebrow, Azriel replied smoothly, "The same way you and Nesta trained this morning?" His brother choked, and Nesta looked outraged. Rhys snickered with Feyre, Amren rolled her eyes and Mor laughed outright. She had a wonderful laugh. Elain just looked confused. Nesta glared at him, but said nothing. Breakfast resumed.

*****

The emerald bracelet was a dead end.

Azriel groaned when he reached his apartment to change. He still had to see Elain. All day, apprehension had brewed with excitement. Now it was reaching a peak as he landed in the gardens, where he knew the female was tending to her flowers. She looked up as he landed, smiling at him. His breath hitched. She was exquisite, soft and warm. "Hi, Azriel." "Hello Elain." "Can I help you?" No. Yes. Azriel took a steadying breath. Here it was. "I was wondering... Would you like to into town tomorrow? There's a fascinating flower shop down on..." He trailed off, unsure what her expression meant. Her eyes were wide, and pink dusted her cheeks; her lips were slightly parted. "Elain?" Azriel asked, worried. Had this been a mistake? "Yes!" She exclaimed, then cleared her throat. "I mean, I would love to." The smile she gave him melted his heart into a puddle. What was this female doing to him? Mor used to give him this feeling. Used to. He smiled back. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

*****

There was a note in his office. I leave for the Court of Nightmares soon. I'd appreciate your presence. -Rhys Azriel's shadows crept around him, the black smoke thickening. Their voices grew cold and they hissed into his mind. Darkness. Evil. Destruction. Agony. Azriel really, really hated the Court of Nightmares.  

*****

thnx for your patience. and also im excited to destroy everyones happiness in the coming chapters. you think elriels gonna happen that easy? hahahahahhahaa. also the court of nightmares is gonna be fuuuuun. also im sorry for the poor editing and if i forgot to tag you. the different format is because im writing on something else and then copy and pasting .

Smiles, Holly ;)

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