#fate is cruel. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stormhearty · 8 months ago

Text

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Triggers: obsessive/toxic Azriel, indications of sex (but not explicit), blood, familial and character death, self-hurt

Summary: Azriel never thought he would become obsessed with anything. He was the stoic and cold Spymaster of Night Court. For centuries he never had anyone grow close to him — not until you, his mate. However, something lurks underneath those bright-colored eyes, and for Azriel… he couldn’t be anywhere else but near you.

Note: From this request! Thank you for sending this! It took a bit to understand the song and its musicality, but I was able to hopefully reach something that would tug the heartstrings but also have the same feeling as the song — Azriel falling for the reader, being addicted, and… Well, continue to find out. Also, I wanted it to be a Dark!Azriel, but I’m not sure if he is as dark as people may interpret, do let me know what you think of this! I wanted this to mimic “Notions of Devotion” but with a darker twist, basing it off the prequel chapters of “Secret Lady”. And also, an AU of my Seer!Reader! 👀👀👀

Temptation is such a fickle thing.

Before you even stepped through those grand doors, Azriel smelt you — that familiar aroma of jasmine and sage wafted through those doors. He was already addicted before even seeing you. He felt his shadows vibrate and shuffle underneath his feet, too excited to bask in your presence and your light.

And when you stepped through those doors, it was as if the Gods and Mother above had graced you in his presence.

You were beautiful.

You were a literal ray of sunshine as if the clouds above parted and you descended from the Havens. He watched as your skirts fluttered beneath you, the white gown — embedded with sparkles of silver and stars — made you ethereal, a Goddess walking in mortal lands.

He had heard of you through his shadows — a Seer within Prythian’s borders.

The first known Seer in millennials.

The Seer that the High Lord of Day Court had kept secret for centuries — the rumored daughter figure of High Lord Helion.

The whispers of your power were not foreign in Night Court. You had used your powers of foresight to bring forth change throughout all of Prythian — you had used your powers for the greater good — all the while keeping your identity a secret.

Azriel had only heard of your name — (Y/N). The whispers of your name and beauty from Day Court spread like wildfire throughout Prythian and many had wanted to meet you, even glance your way to see your beauty.

Even Azriel had grown curious.

When he was sent as an emissary along with Mor to Day Court soil, he hoped and wished to see you pass by. Your aroma of jasmine and sage echoed throughout all the halls he walked through, his shadows scurrying around hoping to find the source of such captivating fragrance.

But he never got even a glance at you.

He had heard the light shuffling of feet, every time he passed a hallway or a room, his head perking up at the scent of you. Every time he felt your presence, heard your feet, smelled you, he scent his shadows on a hunt — to find you, to bring you to him.

He was already addicted — all he wanted was you near him, to bask in your scent and presence.

But every time his shadows came back, it was for naught. He watched them whisper that they couldn’t find you — that as if by magic, you would vanish in midair. Azriel didn’t know if you were avoiding him… but you had no reason to — there was no connection between the two of you, no reason for you to avoid him.

Azriel had grown frustrated at that thought — you were a temptation. You filled his thoughts every waking moment for days on end while he was at Day Court; and even when he arrived back to Night Court, your lingering scent stained his clothes to the point he almost burned them to rid the thought of you. But in the end, he couldn’t.

It would erase everything he had felt for you — of that he yearned for you. That his whole time in Day Court was nothing but a fleeting hallucination, that you would become nothing but a lucid dream.

And it felt like you were nothing but that.

He would lie at night, dreaming of you — you haunted him, awake and asleep. Azriel could reach out and grasp you, hold you close to him — he could practically taste you, but every time he thought he would be able to see your face in his dreams, he would awake — as if the Gods tried to stop him from knowing you completely.

And so when he heard that you would be coming to Night Court as an emissary from Day, his heart picked up a beat at the thought of you again.

Azriel felt the tap against his mental shields that shook him from his thoughts. Hazel hues glanced at his High Lord, seeing that playful smirk that tugged on his lips and he heard the snicker from the General.

“Oh shut it, the both of you…” he hissed in his head at them before he straightened his composure, focusing back on you and the two guards that flanked your side from Day Court.

You were more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. His thoughts of how you could have looked never matched the beauty that you radiated as you walked towards the dias where the Inner Court had sat.

You elegantly bowed in front of his High Lord and Lady, and he just watched you — mesmerized by every little action that you did. He watched you straighten up, fixing your locks behind your ears and over your shoulders; he watched those delicate hands fiddle with each other in nervousness that you couldn’t help but emit.

It was so adorable and endearing on how you looked.

He was absolutely in love with you already.

And when you looked towards his way, your eyes staring into his own hazel — he felt his chest burst with color. His usual world of black and white beamed with color he never thought he would see. His chest warmed, ached, and called out to you — he felt that golden string that he only heard of from his brothers — one that tied your soul to his.

Azriel stumbled backward, clutching his leathers at his chest, his breath taken away from him. He heard your gasp — it was such a lovely sound — as he watched from the corner of his eyes, you stumbling as well, the guards holding your shoulders to stead you, all the while his High Lord and Cassian rushed to his side.

“What happened, Azriel?” his High Lord asked him — commanded him.

Despite the command rushing through his body, his mind rejected it, all his focus on you and those hands on your shoulders. The sight of other hands besides his own, made Azriel feel territorial. He felt the bond in his chest vibrate in anger, and his shadows swirl around him, waiting for their master to let them loose to attack. He let them loose, watching those tendrils of darkness whisk forward to wrap around your pure form, watching them slither up your legs, up your arms, pushing those hands away from you.

The sight of his shadows, his darkness, curling around your form made the bond sing, and a dark satisfaction curled around his heart.

All he wanted to do was cover you in his darkness, making you all his.

He watched as you looked at those shadows before your gaze shifted to his own once again. His body thrummed with happiness and satisfaction as you looked at him with wide eyes, and the only thing that slipped from his lips was:

“Mate."

“How do I look, Azriel?”

He watched those eyes beam up at him, cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of pink, and his ears perking up at the laugh that escaped your lips as he placed the flower crown on top of your head.

His heart rattled in his chest at the way you looked up at him. How your eyes sparkled with happiness and how your laugh was so pure and unabashed. You glowed with so much pureness and happiness, that all he hoped was that he could be the only person that could make you feel like this.

“Stunning,” he affirmed, his words blowing with the wind, “I picked them in particular because I knew they would suit you well…”

Hazel hues watched your features absorb his words for a moment, eyes shifting before looking back up at his own — eyes wide and bright staring up at him — unguarded and so vulnerable. He felt the bond sing… but a darker voice resonated behind that elation — how beautiful would it be to have everything about you just be his. To watch your pureness, your light, your beauty be drowned in his shadows… in his darkness.

“Yes…” he whispered, leaning into your features, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, sliding slightly so that the tips of his fingers grazed the base of your neck, his other hand coming up to gently wrap around your waist, tugging you closer, “Look at me, just like that…”

Azriel brought your face closer to his own, your scent overwhelming his senses — how addicted he was to your smell and he couldn’t help but wonder if you tasted delicious as well as you smelled. Hazel hues watched that baby pink shade turn darker on your cheeks and his heart swelled with pride.

“Keep looking at me just like you are, (Y/N). Is it too selfish for me to ask you, to just look at me… and only me?”

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your own and he was right — you tasted divine. His lips moved against yours, and he felt your hesitance in the kiss, your hands hovering over his chest, a feeble attempt to push him away. He gently bit your lower lip, feeling you gasp against his lips and he delved in, tasting your mouth to his heart’s content. Azriel brought you closer to him, feeling you slump against his form before gently bringing you down to the soft grass underneath both of your feet.

Azriel pulled away from the kiss, his large form hovering over your own. He watched as your chest heaved, those lips parted in a gentle ‘o’ shape, dark red from his kiss. You looked ravished, not so pure anymore — and it made his body pulse. He felt his shadows, swirl around you, clinging onto the strands of hair that spread around your pretty head, onto your shoulders and upper arms; he watched them move over your dress, tugging onto fabric until they loosened over your body.

His eyes darkened, watching inches of skin be revealed to him and you having no attempt to cover up or hide from him. A coo escaped his lips as he leaned down once again, lips attaching themselves to the crook of your neck as he felt your hands slide up his arms to cradle his head against you.

“Why would I look at anyone else, Azriel?” you mused, your voice out of breath, “When you are my mate? When the first time I saw you, you already filled my world with so much hope and light…”

Azriel felt himself growl, his kisses becoming more and more desperate against your skin. Teeth scraped against flesh and hands grasped at anything that was you. Your gasps and moans filled his ears, and he felt the darkness in his heart grow more and more.

He wanted to cover you in him, cover you in that darkness that grew inside of him. He wanted your light that radiated from your soul to darken, to taint it with his essence.

It was funny indeed — how you saw him with such pureness in your eyes, in your heart, in your soul. When in all reality, he was the opposite of that.

He was dark — there was nothing pure about him.

Not when it came to you.

Drip… Drip… drip

Azriel ran his blood-stained hands through dark tussled locks, as he stepped into the foyer of the River House. Dark red blood stained the marble floors of the home, dripping down from his leathers, the undeniable squish from underneath his boots.

He tilted his head up, staring at the night-kissed ceiling — a painting done by his High Lady’s hands.

I’m tired.

He pondered as he continued to walk the quiet halls of the house, all too quiet except for the thump of his blood-covered boots. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, hazel hues stared at his hands — one maimed and disfigured, one that was covered in blood. Azriel felt like it seeped into his very skin, touching his very soul. A frown tugged onto his features as he wiped it on the marble railing of the stairs, watching it streak — tainting the white color with red.

Azriel had just come back from his interrogation from Hewn City, his High Lord requested it. They needed information on the looming threat of the Deathless God.

You had been the one to warn about the threat — your powers taking over you to give the prophesized vision of the God in the Lake. All of Prythian took heed of such words that slipped your lips.

He had become busy, more busy as of late, to the point he rarely saw you.

He missed you. Missed the way you looked up at him with such adoration, with such love; missed the way you would feel underneath him; missed the sound of your voice — your gasps, your moans, your laugh.

Azriel blinked hazily when a shadow ran from underneath his grasp and up the stairs. Hazel hues watched that shadow, before noticing a figure on top of the stairs.

He blinked again, adjusting his eyes to the light before seeing that it was you.

However… it wasn’t you.

Those hues weren’t the ones that he loved. They were light, almost white… Unfamiliar… yet familiar at the same time. You looked at him, but one without the familiar feeling of love; you stared at him, as if staring into his soul.

Your powers had taken over you again.

Azriel walked up those steps, towards you, and once he was in front of you he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, the blood that stained his leathers seeping into your pure white clothes. That dark feeling inside him grew once again, seeing such imagery… the pure you, being tainted by him.

He looked into your power-filled eyes, watching them unblinking up at him. A sigh escaped his lips as he lifted you into his arms, your body light as a feather and he continued his path to your shared bedroom.

Stepping beyond the threshold of those grand doors, he kicked them shut and laid you down on the massive bed, pressing himself closer to your form. He did not care that the blood continued to taint your clear skin, he wanted more.

He stained your thighs, your arms, your chest with red, his shadows slipping off your, now, red slip. He brought your hand to his face, pressing blood-stained lips onto the palm of your hand before his fingers drew an eye on the back of your hand — a sign he always drew when you were like this.

An omen, hoping to call the real you back to him.

A giggle escaped your lips, as you took your hand back, head tilting at the image that he drew. A knowing smile tugged on your lips as you leaned up toward Azriel.

“You seem nervous, Shadowsinger…”

Azriel fought back a shudder — it was your voice, but also not your own. Your powers had taken you — mind and body. Your power echoing through your voice, one so ancient and one so powerful, it resonated in the air, all-powerful and all-knowing.

This wasn’t the first time that your power had overtaken you.

The first time was your divine prediction of the Deathless God’s return.

It was a day Azriel could never forget.

He had thought he had lost you to your power, thought that you would never return to being you again. He watched as you writhed in pain, sweat dripping down your forehead and onto the sheets. You were sick with a fever days before that moment, and Azriel had thought you were having a fever dream. But when your eyes opened, and unfamiliar white hues stared at him — he knew it wasn’t a fever dream.

The Bird of Ash and Fire, flying over the dark lake. Power resonating… The Cauldron calling to its like. He will rise and plunder Prythian to destruction. Fire and shadow submerge all of the light.

Fingers touched his face, bringing him out of his thoughts as hazel eyes focused back down at you, that knowing smile still on your features.

“There is another prophecy… you have yet to hear, my dearest Shadowsinger… One that concerns your dearest sons that your wife has borne.”

Brows scrunched on his features, as he pulled away from your body — the first time he has done that. Hazel eyes locked onto omnipotent ones, “What are you talking about, seer…”

Azriel never called your name when you were in this state… he never thought this was you.

This was the all-seeing Seer of Prythian.

This was not his mate, not his wife.

That knowing smile tugged wider as you slid your fingers over his eye, covering it with your palm — as if to blind him from the truth that you were to spill.

“Our sons will, in the near future, rip their own mother to shreds…”

Hazel eyes widened, continuing to stare down at you. A laugh escaped your chest, echoing into the still room.

“Are you afraid, Shadowsinger? Are you afraid that your mate will despise you? You have a choice now…

“Will you follow fate’s string, abide by the course of nature set by the Cauldron and the Mother above, and allow your mate to be brutally die at the hands of your son?”

He watched you lean up, pressing your palm further into his eye before he reached up and grabbed your wrist and pull it away, fingers digging into tender flesh to the point it would bruise.

“Or… will you wish upon the powers of your mate, the Seer… to kill your sons?

“Will you be willing… to kill your kin, one that you had wanted so much to the point you pushed your mate’s body to the brink of breaking. Or do you dare change your mate’s destiny of death?”

Azriel watched as tears cascade down your cheeks, your hues slowly hinting back to their normal color — that your powers were slowly leaving your body alone.

“Even if you are at the end of your wife’s wrath for it?”

The preeminent voice left you and the whimper of his name slipped your lips.

A coo escaped his lips, leaning back down to press his lips against your own, hushing you from your cries. When he pulled away, he watched as your eyes return to your own, staring up at him — tears continued to streak down your cheeks.

“—-Don’t… Azriel… Please —- Not our sons…” you muttered, begged your husband not to listen to your vision.

He pressed another kiss, taking your breath away from you. He felt you relax underneath him, your hands slipping from his hold and back onto the bed, the tension in your body slowly slipping away.

“—- Father…”

He glanced up from the kiss, seeing his two sons — Rhysar and Rian at the threshold of the bedroom. Azriel pulled away from the kiss, glancing back down at you, the even breathing indicating that you had fallen asleep — it happened every time your powers left your body.

Your words echoed in his ears — he had to choose.

The family that he grew with you… his pride and joy — his sons.

Or the love of his life… his mate — you.

He had heard the whispers from his sons, his eldest especially — the ungratefulness that spewed from their lips. That their mother, despite being a Seer, was from unknown origins and that their father was a bastard Illyrian from the depths of war camps.

He did not care about the hatred that spewed from their lips — but to utter ungratefulness about their mother who bore them... Who almost died to bring them into the world.

Azriel would not tolerate that.

Not when you were everything to him.

With one last glance at your sleeping form, he slowly moved away from you, slipping out of the bed as eyes stared at his sons — hazel hues dulling from his decision.

He will choose you all the time.

Even if it meant killing his own flesh and blood.

Azriel stalked towards them, his large figure overpowering the two of them. His shadows whisked out from his own, darting towards them as they turned and attempted to run — their screams filling the hallways.

A frown tugged on his lips, as he closed the door behind him, attempting to silence the screams from reaching your ears. He stayed still, guarding those doors to the bedroom, allowing his shadows to zip through the halls — to bring his sons back.

The scrambling of feet echoed through the hallways, their terrified screams echoing all around him. He knew that the rest of his family would hear it, and would attempt to stop him from taking his sons’ life — he couldn’t let that happen.

Not when your own life was hanging by a string.

His shadows dispersed, blanketing the River House, locking each door, and preventing anyone from leaving their rooms.

He could hear it — the frantic yells of his family, the confusion in their voices at what was happening.

"Azriel what is going on? Why are your shadows everywhere? "

The Spymaster took no need of his High Lord's questions as he silently waited for his shadows to drag his sons back. He placed a dark wall up in his mind, casting aside Rhysand’s questions and even his High Lady’s frantic pleas.

He didn’t need distractions — not when he had a goal in mind.

The screams and cries of his sons grew louder as he watched the spindle of shadows drag them back by their ankles. Hazel eyes looked down his nose at them, watching them shake and plead up to him — his very image staring back up at him.

Azriel never realized on how much his sons took after him, not a tall tell sign of his wife’s features in either of them. And it disgusted him. How can something like that come out of something so pure like you? He couldn’t understand. The only thing that was remotely you was in your second son, Rian — his eyes sparkled the same hue as yours.

Truth-Teller materialized in his hand, and he raised it to the dim lighting, watching it shine, eyes staring at the glint of his dagger before back down at his oldest son.

Without a second thought, the dagger stroked down.

The screams never ended, and Azriel’s skin dripped with blood once again.

“She hasn’t eaten or slept in days — anything she happens to swallow, she always throws it back up. Her condition is deteriorating, Azriel…

“What have you done?”

The Spymaster stepped into the vast room, the quiet sobs echoing through reverend walls. Hazel eyes trained on you as you pressed yourself against the stone casket of Rhysar, mourning over his death. His step echoed as he made his way towards you and he heard your sobbing stop as you looked over your shoulder, and up at him.

His heart tugged a tiny bit, your hallowed cheeks, dark circles underneath your eyes. You were exhausted, the death of your eldest son taking a toll on your mind and health.

Azriel attempted to tug at the golden string that connected the two of you; however, he only felt the hallow feeling on the other side, your heart slowly encompassed by shadow and darkness.

His mind knew he shouldn’t — but he felt pride seeing his mate look so haggard. His sick mind knew that no matter what, you would always look back for him — that your fates have always been intertwined.

“Say something, Azriel…”

Your voice was small, barely reaching his ears.

“Whether it be an excuse or a reason… Just say something, please.”

He watched as tears streamed down your cheeks, onto the dark colors of your mourning gown. It had been weeks since Rhysar’s death and yet you still continue to wear it — it had been gorgeous on you, Azriel’s dark voice revering in his head that you were beautiful in black, and not your usual white.

“Tell me you did it for your love for me… go on. Tell me… anything, on your reasoning for killing our son. Despite my pleading for you to not listen to the vision I spewed.”

Azriel remained quiet and another sob wracked through your body, a thinned hand coming up to press against pale lips, an attempt to hold back throwing everything up from your stomach.

Dull hues stared up at him, “The fates and Mother will continue to scorn me… Despite all of this, I can’t help but still love you. I have loved you for so long… that mating bond was just another thing that had pushed me to love you…”

He watched you move from the casket, dragging your body on marbled floors to where he stood. Azriel felt your hands grab his leathers, grasping onto anything on him as you continued to sob.

“Please… Say anything. At least… it would make me hate you even less…”

Azriel sighed softly as he leaned down and brought you into his arms, carrying you bridal-style as he pressed his lips against your own — once again, silencing your cries.

He felt you shake in his grasp, your hands pushing at his shoulders, tugging on his hair — attempting to pull away from the kiss. He let you, and he heard you gasp, taking in air as you looked at him, brows furrowed and your lower lip wobbling.

“Why!!” you yelled, your voice hoarse and cracking. You continued to push at his shoulders, clawing at his leathers. Azriel held you tight against him, afraid that if you moved too much in his arms, you’d fall and damage yourself.

“Why don’t you say anything?!! Why did you have to kill our son?! Because of the vision? Because of my powers?! Why!!?”

You gasped, pressing a hand against your throat — a tall tell sign of a panic attack seeping into your bones. Azriel brought your face close to his again, pressing his lips onto yours once more, an attempt to bypass the attack that was waiting to happen.

He felt your body calm against his and he sighed in relief into the kiss, pressing you closer to him. Azriel moved towards the wall, pressing you against it. His lips moved from yours to your neck, teeth and tongue scraping against the skin, and felt you relaxed in his hold.

A distraction for you and desire from him fueled his actions. His shadows felt their master’s desire for you and helped, pinning your form against the stone walls as he knelt, hands pushing and tugging layers of clothes.

He whispered devotion against your skin before devouring you in his darkness, in his love. A sinful moan escaped your lips, pressing yourself further into the wall, the silvers of shadow intertwining around your limbs as Azriel devoured you.

You glanced down at familiar scarred fingers as your mate traced the bruise that was on your wrist, one that was not of his making — but one that was made by you.

Your gaze was not focused as your mind was elsewhere — your memories flashing behind your eyes of what had occurred the past few days.

The birth of your High Lord and Lady’s first child — the heir to Night Court was brought to this world. You had loved that child, much like he was your own… you had pampered and spoiled the child rotten, a way to distract your racing mind.

Your power was starting to grow out of control.

There were moments where you were in control of your body and mind, and the next thing you knew, you were watching your powers take over you — as if your soul was pushed out of your body and all you could do was watch in horror of the visions that you decreed.

What had pushed you to the brink of hurting yourself was the day you noticed how Rian’s eyes glowed a familiar eerie color — one similar to yours when your powers overtake you.

Rian had inherited your powers.

And the first vision he ever saw had rattled you to your knees.

You watched as the power took over your child, those eyes glow and all you wanted was to pray to the Gods, to the Mother above to spare your child from such fates of being a Seer. Those all-seeing eyes stared at you as he pointed his small finger at you.

“Skin and bones burned and swallowed in darkness. To the father that has betrayed his kin, killed his own flesh. To the mother who continues to sit in darkness. There will be violence, there will be death. The Seer’s path will always walk in bloodshed. To ensure your kin will live for millennials, only your death will stop the madness.”

You felt fingers caress your cheek, and you blinked your dull eyes staring up at your mate who looked at you with so much softness that it tugged at your heart.

Oh, your mate — your wonderful and beautiful mate.

How much you loved him with your entire being, the entirety of your soul.

You had no idea where it had gone astray — was it the moment he heard of you? The moment your name reached his shadows and ears? Or was it when the bond snapped? That your souls were tired indefinitely that made your husband lose his mind to the darkness in his heart?

“(Y/N)…” he muttered.

Your name sounded beautiful in his voice — his baritone tone that rumbled in his chest, and echoed in your own. You fought back a shudder as you continued to stare up at him, watching those hazel eyes swim with something you were unable to identify.

“I told you to tell me when things get to hard for you. To tug on our bond, to call my shadows, to whisper my name. You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself like this when your powers overwhelm you… I could help…”

The warmth of his hand that cradled your cheek was so powerful that you couldn’t help but lean into it, your hand clutching your mate’s wrist as you snuggled into that warmth you loved.

A chuckle rattled out of Azriel and you felt him pull you closer to him, pressing his lips against your own.

You found that Azriel loved to kiss you, to make love to you at his convenience — to distract you, to distract him, from the world around both of you.

Your body fell back against soft velvet of your bedsheets, your husband’s body hovering over yours as he grounded himself onto you. His hands pressed against your sides, tugging on clothes and flesh to his desire.

“Instead of asking you, my love… I should make it an order — to stop you from hurting yourself.”

His lips slid from your own, sliding down your neck and shoulder, as fingers tugged your dress from your chest. His lips wrapped around the sensitive bud, as those darkened hazel eyes looked up at you.

“If you have no intention of doing what I ask of you —”

“I am doing exactly a you ask, my love.”

You felt him pause in his love making, pulling away from your breast to look at you. You felt your powers slowly take over again, and this time around, you had no intention of stopping them.

“I know how much you love me, to the point you are willing to die, Azriel. I know that any scars on my body hurt you more… than the ones on your own.”

You brought up his marred hand — one that was always covered with blood and scars — to your lips and pressed a kiss on them, one so gentle and soft that he barely would feel it.

“Let us make a wager, Shadowsinger…”

Your hands dropped his and slid up his broad arms, over his shoulders and around his neck, delicate fingers grasping onto black locks tugging enough to tilt his head back from your position. A pleased hum escaped your lips as you leaned up and bit down on the junction of his neck and shoulders.

“Anyone you will love after me… will be punished for it. They will lose their lives, their families, and themselves to the darkness that you have in your heart. And without anyone to love… you will lose your mind and die of madness.”

A cough raked your body, blood spilling out of your lips. You smiled down at your mate — your powers finally at its breaking point. You used the last of your powers, forced your powers to fully take over you, to call upon one last vision. You felt your vision start to blur, the vision of your husband the last thing you’d ever see in this world.

“You have caused this curse upon yourself, Shadowsinger… You should have simply told me you loved me… from the very beginning.”