#koschei has it coming

[briaberri]

To Elain, a person to whom bodily autonomy is a cornerstone but it has been often stomped on because of her gender, role, and temperament, I think the most alluring aphrodisiac imaginable would be, consent. No one dances that dance with more natural respect and tender care than Azriel.

As for Luc -- after everything the poor guy has been through, really think he's the one to get excited about an unwilling partner?

Let love live. They both think so, actually.

It dovetails with the musings of my head, anticipating that Elain will be instrumental to changing the game for Vassa's curse. She has bone-deep (literally) empathy for forced transformations on a mortal woman's body through the abuse of power. Her own take regarding one's body, fate, and infractions upon that right, is transparent.

Do I think her story arc will flex that stance to world-changing impact as she takes on a death god to free a mortal who's life she respects? That I do.

[quietwingsinthesky]

sunday whump day yippee!!! totally unrelated to anything at all in my life, perhaps koschei having a panic attack or derealization episode? no idea if that’s whumpy enough, could be fun tho!

it absolutely is whumpy enough. i can make it so. derealization/depersonalization episode coming right up.

There is someone in Koschei's bed.

It's not Koschei, it can't be Koschei, because he's too old for this. Too old to be curled in a ball and shivering. Too old to flinch at the drumbeat pounding in his ears, behind his eyelids, between gums and teeth, filling up his whole body.

The person in Koschei's bed puts his hands over his ears, which is another reason he is not Koschei. Koschei isn't so stupid. He'd never believe that would block out the noise. He'd never bother to try. If the person on the bed wasn't so useless, he'd get up and go to class. Even Theta—perpetually late, perpetually absent Theta—is going to notice.

No. No, they won't. Because Theta would only notice if Koschei missed class, and the thing on the bed isn't Koschei. It's a pitiful, sobbing waste of space.

Koschei is better than it. He knows he is. He has to be. All it does is whine and beg for the noise to stop. It doesn't understand that the drums chose Koschei. They make him so special, so important. So much more than that thing in his bed that looks like him and sounds like him and cries like him.

[yanderethorne]

Hiii, do you know what tix has been up to recently? There are no news on his yt page I only saw you post about his tour or smth?

heyyyy ♡ i'm gonna be 💯.. i have no idea and wish i knew 😭 i'm in the same boat as u i'm afraid,,

i believe he is doing some festivals in norway but i have no idea which and WISH I COULD B THERE GOOD GOD but no one to go with and too late to book time off for summer sniff

i wish he was more active tbh but ig he is producing or touching grass. or both.

[tcnderhearts]

" I was trapped in a tooth for an eternity in a cosmic entity's disgusting mouth. I think I'm entitled to be a tad 'grumpy', Lungbarrow. "

@theresastargirl ♥'d for a one liner

[seaweedstarshine]

Rewatching my favorite Christmas special and I cannot get over “Psych*tic Potato Dwarf” as an insult from a person who — canonically — according to sources from the same writer — often hears voices that he has trouble distinguishing from reality. It's not just the one line, it's the fact that it’s the title of Strax’s theme! I always wanna call it out 😭, which works out in my The Snowmen-era Eleventh Doctor fanfictions because Strax is a nurse and would know what that word means.

Like, it does unfortunately fit the character because Gallifreyan culture is — canonically — systematically exclusionary of mentally ill people, and the Eleventh Doctor — canonically — hates himself more than anyone in the universe. But the choice?

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE

Paring: Azriel x Reader, Lucien x platonic!Reader

Summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when long kept secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

PART I

word count: 3k

A/N: this is part 1 of BLUE. I changed the beginning a bit to fit the storyline. Please be nice this is my first fic :)

Warnings: light angst, unrequited love, mention of childhood trauma/ mention of ãbuse (not described)

part 2

I stir my black tea as Rhysand files through the report I handed him just seconds ago.

The steam from the tea rises, curling in delicate tendrils, carrying with it a sense of fleeting warmth that I desperately cling to.

Rhysand’s office is both grand and simple.

Bookshelves line the walls, filled with volumes on history, strategy, and magic. A fireplace to the right. Above it, a large portrait of Velaris shows the city bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Feyre gifted it to him last starfall.

Heavy velvet drapes in shades of midnight blue frame the windows, ready to be drawn shut for privacy.

In the distance I can make out the mountains with their snow-capped peaks and the Sidra winding through the valley below.

“I have to say, I’m impressed you were able to convince Devlon so fast.”

I look up at Rhys and chuckle, the sound hollow to my own ears. “It does help if you threaten to cut his balls off and stake them to the wall for everyone to see.”

Rhys lifts a brow and barks out a laugh. “I see.”

I rarely go on missions anymore, choosing to work as an advisor for Rhysand.

Missions used to be exciting, but nowadays I prefer the comfort my room provides. The sense of security it brings is a balm to my soul, now more than ever.

I take this as a sign to stand up and lift my bag from the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way to the door.

“Don’t forget tonight’s family dinner,” Rhysand calls after me. I don’t look back, just give him a thumbs-up and close his office door behind me.

As I make my way downstairs and through the foyer, I spot Lucien strapping on his sword. Presumably getting ready for training, he has always been an early riser.

“How did the mission go?” Lucien doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s me approaching.

I let out a sigh and rub my temples. “Good.” I stop beside him and flop onto the recamier right next to the front door. “Well, as good as paying the camps a visit can get.”

Lucien cracks a smile at that, his amber eyes twinkle with amusement. He knows exactly how difficult it is to convince Devlon of something he isn’t particularly fond of.

“Are you coming to the family dinner tonight?” I ask, my voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

Lucien sheaths his blade and nods. “Feyre will have my head if I don’t show up. I already missed the last one.”

I cringe at the mention of the last family dinner. The memory alone sends a sharp pang through my chest.

———————

I walk into the dining room, ready to face yet another family dinner. I spot Mor right away, radiant in her blood-red gown. The sight of her is always one of familiarity and comfort.

“Hey, got another one of those?” I point to the wine glass in her hand. She arches a brow and hands me one filled to the brim.

“Are we so exhausting that you need liquid encouragement to get through the night?” she muses. I just roll my eyes, trying to hide my amusement.

Right as she opens her mouth to say something, the back of my head begins to tickle. He is here.

I turn around to see Azriel walk through the door, and he is not alone. Elain is beside him, their hands intertwined.

Even though I was expecting it to happen soon, the sight still hits me like a physical blow. It was always just a matter of time till Azriel and Elain decided to go against Rhys‘s order and make their love official.

I‘m glad, Lucien isn’t here to witness this. I can’t imagine how it would be for him.

Since only my side of the bond snapped into place, seeing how in love they are, is somehow… manageable. For Lucien it would be almost deadly.

I look back at Mor, her expression as shocked as mine. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, her face now bearing a look of worry and pity.

To say the dinner is awkward would be an understatement. Nobody really knows what to say after Elain and Azriel walked in holding hands.

I just shove the potatoes on my plate around, too nauseous to eat anything. The lump in my throat makes swallowing impossible.

Cassian clears his throat and points to Azriel and Elain. “So how long has this been going on?” Nesta jabs her elbow into his ribs, which earns her an “oww”, and throws me an apologetic look.

Besides Mor, only Lucien and Nesta know about the bond between me and Azriel. Their concern a constant reminder of the bond I try so hard to ignore.

“Well…” Azriel coughs, noticeably uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “It all happened very quickly. We spent a lot of our nights up and talking and realized we didn’t want to hold back anymore.”

He gazes down at her, smiling. I recognize that look. The realization twists the knife in my heart.

That’s how I look at him.

—————————

“Are you even listening?” Lucien waves a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my haze. His voice pulls me back to the present, but the ache remains.

I rub my eyes. “Uh… sorry. What exactly were you saying?”

He crosses his arms and looks down at me. “I was asking if you wanted to go training with me. But it seems what you really need is some sleep.”

I roll my eyes and stand up. “You know me so well, Lu.” I pat his shoulder and walk out the door. “See you at dinner tonight.”

Velaris is most beautiful at night, but nothing can beat the quiet and peace of the early mornings.

I walk down the high street, greeting some of my favorite vendors with a smile, until I reach the familiar townhouse.

After I officially became part of Rhysand’s inner circle, he offered me to stay at his townhouse.

It had many perks: no rent, right in the heart of Velaris, and an endless wine supply thanks to Rhysand’s "secret" wine cellar.

There is really only one downside.

“I didn’t think you would be back so soon.” Azriel sits at the dinner table eating breakfast. He has his fighting leathers on, probably on his way to the House of Wind for Valkyrie training.

Cassian and Azriel still train the Valkyries every morning. Sometimes I join, but only when Nesta drags me up there.

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m going to head upstairs to rest. Say hello to Nesta for me.” The words taste bitter, a poor attempt to mask the hurt.

I turn around before he has the chance to say something else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

Yes, that is the downside. The constant reminder of what I had lost and could never have.

Him.

——————

The dining room buzzes with conversation as everyone settles in for dinner.

Azriel and Elain sit together, a vision of contentment that sends a pang through my heart.

Across the table, Lucien’s jaw is tight, his gaze fixed on his plate.

“Thank you all for coming,” Rhysand begins, standing at the head of the table. “I have an important announcement to make.”

He glances at Lucien and me, a hint of apology in his eyes. “We’ve decided to support Eris in overthrowing Beron.

Lucien and you,” he points at me, “will lead the mission to the Autumn Court.”

A murmur runs through the room. Lucien looks up, his eyes meet mine.

There is a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his gaze that makes my heart ache.

The Autumn Court doesn’t hold great memories for either of us.

But before I can fully process Rhysand’s words, Azriel stands abruptly, his expression dark and tense.

“Why them?” Azriel’s voice is sharp, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. “Why not send someone else?”

Rhysand frowns slightly, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“Both of them have a unique advantage given their history with Eris and the Autumn Court. It’s a strategic decision.”

Azriel’s eyes flicker to me, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”

I feel a surge of frustration. Azriel’s protectiveness, though touching, is misplaced and completely out of character.

“What’s your problem, Azriel?” I snap, unable to hold back.

“I’m more than capable of leading this mission. Or do you think I’m not good enough to do my job?”

His eyes narrow, the tension between us thickening. “That’s not what I meant,” he retorts, his voice lower but no less intense.

“I just don’t think it’s wise to send specifically you two into such a volatile situation. You can’t just throw yourself into danger like that.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re always in danger, always risking everything. How is that different from this mission?”

“It’s different because—” Azriel stops himself, glancing at Elain, who is watching us with wide eyes. He seems to struggle for a moment before finishing, “It doesn’t matter, just let someone else do the mission. You’re an important asset to this court.”

Before I could respond with something I’d surely regret, Elain’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Azriel, stop.” Her voice is calm but firm, a hint of desperation in her eyes. “This isn’t helping.”

Azriel turned to Elain, his expression softens slightly, but the tension remains. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “I’m sorry. I just… I worry.”

Lucien’s gaze hardens, “We’ve faced worse,” he says, a challenge in his tone. “We are capable enough to lead this mission, we don’t need your approval, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “It’s not about capability. It’s about safety. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Anyone?” I echo, my voice rises. “Or just Elain’s mate?”

The words hang in the air, charged with emotion. Azriel flinches slightly.

“This has nothing to do with Lucien being Elain‘s mate,” he says, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

“But it does, doesn’t it?” My words laced with venom. “If Lucien were to get hurt, it would cause Elain distress, that’s how a mating bond works. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Elain looks down, her face unreadable, while Lucien’s gaze flickers between Azriel and me.

“We all know the risks,” Lucien says more calmly this time, “And we’re prepared to face them.”

Rhysand interjects, his voice low but authoritative. “Enough. We’re all on the same side here. This is a mission we need to undertake for the greater good. Personal feelings need to be set aside.”

I take a deep breath and try to steady the storm of emotions within me. Rhysand is right, the last thing we need is Azriel and me fighting.

Rhysand sits down, his tone final. “This mission is vital. We need to trust each other and stay focused. We’ll discuss this further tomorrow. For now, let’s try to enjoy the evening.”

The atmosphere is strained as we resume our meal. I can feel Azriel’s gaze on me.

Lucien reaches over, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything in that moment.

I don’t say a word throughout the whole dinner. Choosing to stay quiet instead of lashing out.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission would change everything.

---

The garden of the River House is a haven of tranquility. Blooming flowers and lush greenery everywhere Elain truly is a talented gardener.

I find Lucien leaning against a stone pillar, his gaze lost in the Sidra's gentle flow.

I approach him quietly, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. “Mind if I join you?” I ask softly.

Lucien looks up, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course not. I was just enjoying the peace before the storm.”

I halt beside him, the tension from the dinner still coils tightly in my chest. “Quite the announcement, wasn’t it?”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I knew something like this was coming, but hearing it confirmed… it’s different.

Eris must be desperate if he reached out to Rhysand.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Yes, it’s a lot. I wish Rhys would have told us separately. This topic is already very emotional I really didn’t need Azriel’s… concern too.”

Lucien’s eyes darken at the mention of Azriel. “He’s protective, that’s clear. But he doesn’t have the right to undermine your abilities.”

“It’s not just that,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “His words, his actions… they confuse me. One moment he’s distant, the next he’s overly concerned. I don’t understand him.”

Lucien’s gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “He cares about you. He might not be aware of it but you’re his mate, bond snapping into place or not, it’s his priority to keep you safe. That can’t be changed, even if he’s in love with someone else.”

I look away, the garden blurring before my eyes. “It hurts, Lucien. Seeing him with Elain, pretending to be something they’re not. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Lucien reaches out, his hand covering mine. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got our battles to fight, and sometimes the hardest ones are with our own hearts.”

A moment of silence stretches between us, the night air filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

“And what about you?” I ask, turning to look at him. “How are you handling all of this? Eris, the Autumn Court… it can’t be easy for you.”

Lucien’s expression grows somber. “It’s not. But I’ve come to terms with my past and everything my father did to me. I knew this was going to happen. Eris has the chance to change things, to make the Autumn Court a better place. I can’t turn my back on that.”

He smiles at that. “And maybe, when all of this is over, we’ll find some semblance of peace.”

As we stand there, the garden enveloping us in its quiet embrace, I feel a sense of calm settle over me. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I know we have each other’s backs.

—————————

The war room in the House of Wind is filled with dread as we gather around the large oak table.

Rhysand stands at the head, his usual easy demeanor replaced by a grave seriousness.

To his right, Amren sits with her usual enigmatic expression, while Cassian leans against the wall, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.

Azriel is on my left, his gaze unreadable, and Lucien sits across from me, his eyes focused and determined.

Rhysand unfurls a detailed map of the Autumn Court, its forests and strongholds marked with meticulous detail.

“Eris has provided us with information about Beron’s movements and the layout of his court. Our objective is to infiltrate the main stronghold, gather intelligence, and support Eris in his efforts to dethrone Beron.”

Lucien nods, his jaw set. Rhys continues. “We’ll enter through the southern border. Eris has arranged for a distraction that will draw most of Beron’s guards away from the main stronghold. This will give us the opportunity to slip in and meet with Eris.”

Amren leans forward, her sharp eyes assessing the map. “And what about Koschei? He’s been a wild card in all of this. His alliance with Beron could complicate things.”

Rhysand nods in agreement. “Koschei is a concern. According to Eris, Koschei has been providing Beron with dark magic. We need to be prepared for any magical traps or barriers.”

Azriel’s voice cuts through the discussion. “I’ll handle the reconnaissance. I’ll fly ahead and ensure the path is clear before they move in.”

I glance at him, he hasn’t looked at me or said a single thing to me since yesterday. If I didn’t know better I would say he was sulking.

Rhysand continues, “Once inside, our main goal is to secure the throne room and neutralize Beron’s guards. Eris will confront Beron directly. You,” he gestures to Lucien and me, “need to be ready to support him.”

Lucien nods again, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “We’ll be ready.”

Rhysand’s gaze softens slightly as he looked at us. “This mission is dangerous, but it’s necessary. Any questions?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle on my shoulders. “What if things go wrong? Do we have an extraction plan?”

Amren smirks. “We have a plan. Azriel and I will be your backup. If things go south, we’ll get you out, girl.”

Azriel nods, his eyes meeting mine. “You won’t be alone out there. We’ll be watching.”

There is a moment of silence as everyone absorbs the gravity of this mission.

Finally, Rhysand speaks again, his voice resolute. “We leave at dawn. Get some rest and prepare yourselves.”

As we all stand to leave, Azriel catches my arm. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks, his voice low.

I nod, following him to a quieter corner of the room. “What is it, Azriel?”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I know you’re capable. But this mission… it’s dangerous, and I can’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

His concern should touch me, but I can’t help and feel angry. “I know the risks, Azriel. And I’ll be careful. But you need to trust me to do my part.”

He sighs, running a scarred hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or your abilities. I just… I can’t lose you.”

Before I can respond, Lucien approaches.“Ready?” Lucien asks, his eyes flicker between Azriel and me. I nod, giving Azriel one last look.

“Ready.”

[irithiadourden]

Come back home

Pairing: AzRis x f!reader

Summary: You decided to ignore Azriel and went on that mission alone, knowing that there was a chance it could go wrong. A furious Azriel takes you to the Forest House where Eris heals your wounds. There is a moment when things seem to look very bad, but fate has other plans for the three of you.

Words: 1,081

Warnings: A little bit of angst? mentions of blood.

Day 3 of @sjmxreaderweek Fate

N/A: This is my first time writing this style of fic (characters x reader), so have mercy.

Div by @olenvasynyt ❤️

As Azriel carefully deposited you on an unfamiliar bed, it didn't take you long to realise that you weren't in the Night Court, especially when Autumn's High Lord appeared at your side with the same desperate look on his face as the Shadowsinger.

"She's lost a lot of blood, she has a deep cut on her thigh and several serious bruises on the rest of her body."

Eris wasted no time in answering him, instead approaching your almost motionless form on the now crimson stained sheets. His hands were quick and methodical as he moved over the points Azriel had indicated, healing and using magic to mend skin, muscle and internal wounds. The look of concentration did little to hide the panic and worry that could be seen in his amber eyes.

Being so close, a little dizzy and with the adrenaline starting to drain from your system, you couldn't help but think back to what you had buried a few years ago. As Azriel's right hand, one of his most trusted spies, personally trained by him, you had been in direct contact with Eris on more than one occasion, especially when the Koschei problem had arisen.

At first, each meeting had been tense and left you in a terrible mood, but over time you had begun to look forward to seeing him again. Sometimes you had wondered if he felt it too, the lingering tension between the two of you, but when the mate bond had snapped for him and Azriel, you automatically dismissed any possibility. Azriel was your friend .... and so much more, a person you loved and trusted blindly, the thought of betraying him in any way was unfathomable.

"Hey, you need to stay awake." Eris's deep, rich voice was like a caress. But it wasn't your fault that sleep made your eyelids flutter.

Azriel hadn't said a word since he'd put you there and told Eris where to find your wounds so he could heal you. It didn't take a genius to know that his anger was about to erupt. Swallowing hard, you used what little breath you had left to blurt out to him in an almost inaudible tone.

"I'm sorry."

That seemed to break something in him, for his stoic expression was wiped away, replaced by one of fear. In a second, his scarred hands were on your face. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I found out you disobeyed a direct order and went there anyway?"

You barely smiled. It was dangerous, but someone had to do it. And you were less important. You could sacrifice yourself to buy them time.

You wanted to tell him again that you were sorry, even if it was a lie, to try and wipe the despair and pain from his eyes. But you couldn't.

Eris had said something out loud, sounding worried, practically screaming.

Your eyes closed for a second, just long enough to rest. Azriel was still holding your face, and you were almost sure he was repeating your name.

The place you were in was dark, too dark even for a creature of the night like you. You were used to starry skies and snow covered peaks, to the fire that softened the freezing nights when you were out on a mission and far away. This thick blackness was just that, an emptiness that made you feel so lonely you wanted to cry. You wanted to wake up again to see Eris, to thank him for healing you. You wanted to tell Azriel that you had valuable information, that it had been worth the pain, just to take the weight off his shoulders.

But the darkness whispered, pushing you further and further away.

For an instant, you were completely filled with regret. You could not believe that you would never again be able to see the smile on Eris's face as his smokehounds greeted you. You couldn't understand the injustice of knowing that you would never wake up again to enjoy the feeling of flying, safe in Azriel's arms.

It was then, as you began to drown in the darkness, that two bright golden stars appeared in the middle of the threatening night. They were so beautiful, dancing as if to show you the way back. You decided to follow them because you wanted to return to the light. You wished to open your eyes and desperately tried to hold on to the warmth they made you feel, a sensation that enveloped your soul.

"Our mate," the two males holding your body whispered, their faces showing the surprise of this revelation.

It took you a moment to understand, to come to your senses. But then you realised what they meant. You could feel it, the golden thread that wrapped around your heart, bonding you not only to Azriel, but to Eris as well. And you could also sense the connection between them. You were so confused that you were not sure if you were breathing.

It was the lips of the High Lord that anchored you to reality, as ardent as the fire that ran through his veins. And then, while Eris embraced you, trembling slightly as if still too moved by the news, Azriel kissed you with all the love and anger of what had just happened. You felt his apprehension, his relief, the deep love that was there, which now gave rise to no guilt or doubt.

That evening, the two of them took it upon themselves to stay awake and take care of you. They wouldn't let you fall asleep for a few hours just to be sure, as if fear wouldn't allow them to be away from you for even a second until they were sure you were totally okay. There were so many questions to answer, so much to say, but that could wait until the next day.

Right now, as exhaustion finally took its toll, all you could do was smile, incredibly happy and blessed, for while Azriel embraced you from behind, wrapping his wings around you and Eris, Eris had settled his head on your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

These two males, your mates... you could only thank the Mother and Fate for allowing you to return to them. You had no intention of letting them go, just as they had shown you with every word and gesture that they would not let you go either.

[sweet-pea-channie]

Shadows of the exile - Part 1

Azriel x female!reader

Summary: Y/N, a talented healer, is visited by Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel, who urgently need her for the upcoming war against Koschei and his army of the dead. Despite her doubts, Y/N realizes that she is not only a healer but also a fighter. A new chapter begins for Y/N – one that could not only change her fate but the fate of all of Prythian.

Warnings: feeling of being followed, that's probably it

Word count: 5.6k

A/N: Here is it, the first part of my new series. I had this story in my head for such a long time and I was torn between writing it or not. I hope you like it so far. If you want to be tagged for the next parts, let me know! And please remember, english is actually my third language, so bear with me if there are any mistakes.

series masterlist

“Tell me again why we need another healer for the Inner Circle?” Azriel asked once more, crossing his legs and arms in his chair, sitting across from Rhys. His sharp gaze never left his High Lord, a deep furrow in his brow betraying his skepticism.

Rhys let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like the heavy, humid air before a storm. He'd already explained this a hundred times, but Azriel was persistent, as always. "The message has been sent throughout all of Prythian. There’s a war brewing. A dangerous one." He leaned forward slightly, his expression grave. "Koschei’s followers are working tirelessly to free him from the Lake. And they’re raising an army of the dead in the process."

Cassian, ever the pragmatic warrior, leaned back in his chair and let out a deep grunt. He was quiet, but Rhys could tell he was already thinking through the logistics of what that meant for them. "An army of the dead?" Cassian asked, his voice low. "Not exactly a conventional threat, but still, dead soldiers don’t die twice."

Rhys nodded grimly. "Exactly. These soldiers may not be as physically strong as living warriors, but you can’t kill what’s already dead. And this army will be incredibly difficult to defeat. We need to stop them before Koschei is freed. The High Lords and I are putting plans into motion to prevent it, but there’s something else we need. More than just warriors. We need healers."

Azriel raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Healers? We’ve got Madja, and she’s done more than enough." He shrugged, clearly unconvinced. "Why do we need another healer for the Circle?"

Rhys had anticipated this question. He stood up from behind the large wooden table, pacing the room as he explained further. "We need more than just Madja. She’s stretched thin with the clinic and the studies she’s conducting. We also don’t have enough capable healers left in Prythian. Healers like her—trained, powerful—are becoming rare."

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. "The danger is that without proper healing capabilities, we could lose far more than just warriors in this fight. And in a battle like the one we’re facing, we can’t afford that."

Azriel shifted in his seat, his expression still unreadable. "And this healer you’re talking about?"

Rhys took a breath, his voice lowering as he prepared to explain. "This healer isn’t just any healer. She’s someone I’ve known for a long time. She’s been the most talented healer in the Dawn Court for decades. She has a gift that few have ever possessed, one that could make all the difference in the coming war."

Cassian gave him a small nod, though Azriel still seemed unconvinced. "So why haven’t we heard from her in centuries?" Azriel asked, his tone suspicious but tinged with curiosity.

Rhys paused, looking at his two most trusted warriors, the weight of the answer heavy on his shoulders. "Because she’s not here, Azriel. She’s been exiled. Over 200 years ago, she was banished to another world. A world where there’s no magic, no fae. There’s nothing like what we know here."

Azriel leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You’re saying she’s been stuck in another world... for centuries?"

Rhys nodded, looking down at his hands for a moment. "Yes. She was exiled by Ianthe, after a prophecy was made about her. A prophecy that said she could either be a hero… or a weapon of chaos. Ianthe couldn’t allow her to live freely, not when she was such a threat to her own power."

He took a deep breath, meeting their gazes again. "Ianthe had to remove her, and she did. But I’ve been keeping track of her, in a way. She hasn’t been idle. I know she has the skills we need."

Cassian’s voice broke the silence. "And you’re sure about this? You’re sure this isn’t some risk we’re taking by bringing her here?"

Rhys met his brother’s gaze. "I’m sure. I wouldn’t ask you to go through this if I wasn’t." He paused, his tone turning softer. "Her name is Y/N. And she’s more than ready to return."

Azriel remained silent, his mind turning over the information. Finally, he spoke. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow." Rhys stood still, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead. There was no turning back. No guarantees of success. But they had no choice. They had to bring Y/N back. It was the only way they stood a chance.

The next morning, as the first light of dawn began to break over Velaris, Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian set out on their journey. The air was still, the streets quiet, as they made their way toward the portal. Rhys’s mind was heavy with worry. He had no idea what condition Y/N might be in. Could she still be alive after so many years? What had she been through in that world without magic? And, even more pressing, would she even be willing to return?

Rhys had asked the witch Lirael to help create a way to bridge the gap between worlds. Lirael had crafted a powerful artifact, a crystal that acted as a key between dimensions. This crystal was imbued with moonlight, stabilizing the portal and acting as an anchor. It would help guide them through the unknown, ensuring they arrived at Y/N’s location.

"The portal may not open exactly where we want it to," Rhys had warned his brothers before they stepped through the threshold. "But Lirael has tied it to Y/N’s old magic. It should bring us close. The rest is up to us."

Azriel’s voice had been filled with concern. "And do we know what she might look like? Will she even look the same as before?"

Rhys had shaken his head. "We’ll know when we find her. Her energy will guide us. As for her appearance, we’ll just have to see."

The portal that opened before Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian was a breathtaking spectacle of shimmering, sparkling streams of light dancing in all directions, as if pulled by invisible hands. The crystal in Rhysand’s hand glowed with an intense moonlit blue, as if the very essence of the night sky had been captured within it. The magic of the Night Court pulsed around the crystal, and the air surrounding them was so charged that it seemed to vibrate.

A soft humming filled the air, and the light emanating from the crystal began to gather. The individual beams of light condensed into a ribbon of illumination that twisted upward and downward, as if darkness itself were being woven into this pulsating structure. Slowly, almost solemnly, the portal expanded, taking the form of a transparent archway composed of both light and shadow, as if it were a tear in the fabric of space itself.

Cassian took a step back as the portal grew wider, feeling an invisible wall of magic making the air around him denser, heavier. It was as if he were stepping into a thick, unknown atmosphere—one that enveloped another dimension entirely. The air smelled different, as though it carried the scent of distant worlds, a mixture of floral and earthy aromas, tinged with something that reminded him of silence and empty spaces.

"Stay close to me," Rhysand said, his voice calm yet weighted with responsibility. "There are no guarantees, but we have no choice."

The two nodded, their gazes fixed on the portal. The light from the crystal shimmered like a silver curtain leading into an unknown world. The air seemed to grow denser, and as they stepped closer, they felt their magic being drawn into a powerful, unseen current. An invisible force pulled them forward.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Azriel asked, his voice a mix of concern and determination. It was clear that Rhysand understood what was at stake, but Azriel could still feel the uncertainty lingering in the air.

Rhysand only nodded, and without another word, he stepped forward, holding the crystal out before him. A tiny spark leaped from the crystal, and for a brief moment, the portal flared into a blinding light before a rift tore open in the space before them—a connection between the magical world of the Night Court and the entirely foreign realm of Y/N.

As they stepped through, it felt as though they were walking through a wall of pure, cold mist that dulled their senses for a moment. Time seemed to stretch and compress, as if they were moving through a space outside of time itself, belonging to neither the past nor the future. The air was heavier, yet crisp and sharp, and each breath carried a whisper of foreign magic and fractured reality. It was as if they had entered a vacuum—not truly here, yet not truly there.

Azriel felt the magic wrapping around them, as if they were being pulled into another dimension. It was as if his own magical threads were shifting, stretching, and simultaneously beginning to distort. The colors of the world started to blur, and the interplay of shadows around them became more intense.

It was not a painful transition, but the pressure was palpable – like the feeling of passing through an invisible wall that tightened with every step. The weight of the unknown pressed against his skin, a force that was neither gentle nor violent but insistent in its presence. It was a journey that defied time and space, pulling them further into the depths of the arcane.

Suddenly, the darkness around them grew less dense, and a faint light flickered at the edge of their vision. It felt as though they were slowly emerging from a dream, regaining their footing in reality. As Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian stepped through the shimmering portal, they expected a seamless transition. Instead, the moment they crossed, a violent force slammed into them, sending them sprawling through an expanse of swirling void. The magic that had carried them through felt unstable, as though resisting their presence. Darkness and light twisted together, the currents of magic lashing at their bodies like an unseen storm.

Rhysand gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the crystal that anchored their journey. The artifact flared, its glow battling against the chaotic forces. "Something's wrong!" he shouted over the roar of energy.

Azriel spread his wings instinctively, trying to stabilize himself in the swirling nothingness. His shadows writhed around him, barely holding their form. "We should have arrived by now!" he called back, his voice sharp with tension.

Cassian fought against the unseen force pulling them in different directions, his muscles straining. "Rhys, tell me this isn’t normal!"

Rhysand didn’t respond immediately. His mind raced, searching for the cause of the instability. This portal had been crafted by Lirael, a master of dimensional magic. It should have worked flawlessly. And yet, something—or someone—was interfering.

A sudden, piercing shriek echoed through the space around them. A shadowed figure emerged in the swirling void, its form indistinct but unmistakably hostile. The figure raised a clawed hand, and a wave of dark energy surged toward them.

Azriel reacted first, his siphons flaring to life. He twisted mid-air, slashing through the attack with a blade of pure shadow. "We’re not alone!"

Rhysand's mind sharpened. "It’s a trap! Someone anticipated our arrival."

Another pulse of energy struck them, and the portal wavered violently. Cassian roared, shoving forward with brute force, his siphons burning crimson. "We have to break through!"

Rhysand forced his magic into the crystal, pushing against the resistance. "Hold onto me!" he ordered, and as Azriel and Cassian obeyed, he unleashed a wave of raw power. The energy pushed them forward, hurtling them past the shadowed entity. The air around them fractured, reality itself splitting apart—

And then, suddenly, they crashed into solid ground.

Azriel rolled to his feet instantly, blades drawn. Cassian groaned beside him, shaking off the impact. Rhysand staggered, gripping the crystal tightly as its glow faded. The world around them was not the quiet forest they had anticipated.

Instead, they stood in an eerie wasteland. The air was thick with a heavy, oppressive magic, and the ground beneath them was cracked and dry. A faint red glow pulsed from the earth like embers of a dying fire.

"Where are we?" Cassian muttered, scanning the surroundings.

Rhysand exhaled, trying to sense their exact location. "We were thrown off course. Someone—or something—rerouted the portal. But Y/N’s magic is still near. We just need to find her."

Rhysand was the first to step forward and paused. The air was no longer as thick, and all he could sense were the remnants of magical energy lingering from the portal. The world they had entered was completely foreign. The sky above them was cast in a muted twilight, devoid of stars, resembling an eternal sunset rather than a night sky. The ground beneath their feet was dry and dusty, and the wind that swept across the endless hills felt cold, carrying the scent of distant lands – a mixture of damp earth, wildflowers, and something indescribable, something reminiscent of silence and vast emptiness.

Dusk had already fallen as Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian moved cautiously through the dense forest where they had landed. The ground beneath them was soft, covered in moss, and the towering trees seemed alive with an awareness that sent shivers down their spines. The wind whispered through the branches, but the sound was muted, as though the forest itself was guarding a secret. There was an eerie sense of otherness about this place, something even Rhysand, who had traversed countless realms, could not easily place. His senses sharpened instinctively, and he felt the foreign magic in the air, thick and unmistakable, wrapping around them like unseen threads.

"I can feel her," Rhysand said, halting in his steps. "She is not far."

The others nodded, their gazes shifting warily through the trees. It was as if Y/N's energy was woven into the very fabric of this world, pulling at the air around them, growing stronger with every step they took.

Azriel was the first to turn toward a sliver of light breaking through the trees. "We should be cautious," he warned, his sharp eyes already scanning for movement, for any sign of danger. "She may not yet be aware of our presence."

Cassian took a step forward, resting a hand on his belt, ever ready for battle. "So, what now? Just keep going?" His voice was steady, the voice of a warrior who had seen far too much to be rattled by uncertainty.

"Yes," Rhysand responded, tightening his grip on the crystal in his hand, the magical artifact pulsing softly with the same energy that linked him to Y/N. "We must reach her before she notices us." The energy was nearly tangible now, raw and fractured, as though flowing through the very fabric of time and space.

They pressed onward, deeper into the woods. The trees became denser, the ground softer, and the light dimmer, until they were engulfed in near-total darkness. But then, as if the shadows themselves recoiled, Cassian heard a distant sound – a bark. Not an ordinary bark, but a sharp, wild cry, filled with an unmistakable protective instinct. A sudden jolt of recognition passed between them.

"There she is!" Rhysand declared, quickening his pace. The wind carried the scent of flowers and earth, interwoven with the fresh energy that surrounded Y/N. In the distance, they caught sight of a moving figure between the trees, accompanied by the barking of a large, imposing hound that wove deftly between the shadows.

As they drew closer, they saw her – Y/N. Just as Rhysand had remembered her: long, dark hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, eyes glowing almost luminescent in the darkness. Her skin, a warm golden hue, seemed to capture the dim light, making her appear almost sculpted from the very essence of nature itself.

Y/N came to an abrupt halt, sensing their presence. Her hound, a powerful and untamed guardian, snarled and positioned itself protectively between her and the intruders. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice clear but tinged with wary unease. She was fast – too fast – and as her companion continued to bark, she began backing away, keeping the beast firmly between her and the three men who had just emerged from the shadows.

"Y/N, wait!" Rhysand called out, his voice calm but laced with urgency. He didn’t want her to run. He didn’t want to frighten her.

But she did not stop. Clutching onto her hound, she moved swiftly, her steps silent as she prepared to disappear into the depths of the forest, swallowed by the shadows and the infinite dark.

Rhysand did not hesitate. With a single step, he closed the distance between them, reaching out and gently grasping her arm. The moment his fingers touched her skin, it was as if a chain reaction had been set in motion. A flood of memories and visions surged through her mind, overwhelming her, pulling her violently from the oblivion in which she had been trapped for so long.

Her eyes widened, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips. "What is happening?" she whispered, shaken, as the visions consumed her. "Where am I? What... who are you?"

And then, all at once, the memories snapped into place: The Seer. The Prophecy. The ominous words that foretold her power. She remembered the day she was exiled – the cold, merciless grip of Ianthe, tearing her away from the world of the Fae, casting her out to secure her own power. Y/N understood now that she had never truly escaped, but had instead been trapped in a cycle of oblivion. Year after year, she had been reborn, each time a new identity, a new beginning, all to evade Ianthe’s wrath.

"I remember..." Y/N murmured, feeling the magic inside her awaken as the scars of the past began to heal. She could feel the warm radiance of the Dawn Court, the deep connection to her healing abilities, and the cruel curse of exile that had forced her into countless lives, each ending in death, only to begin anew.

Rhysand held her steady, his gaze steady, filled with a silent understanding deeper than words could ever convey. "You are no longer alone, Y/N. We are taking you home."

But at that moment, there was more than just the promise of returning home. It was as if time itself had finally caught up with her, forcing Y/N to confront the truth – the truth of her destiny, her power, and the immense danger she posed in the wrong hands.

Her expression darkened, and then she hissed, "You idiot! Why are you only coming for me now? Do you have any idea how many times I have died? Do you know what it feels like? To start over again and again?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Rhysand admitted, his voice low, heavy with centuries of regret. "I knew of your exile and the prophecy. There was so much to do, so many battles to fight over these past decades... centuries. Why Thesan did not intervene, I cannot say. But I am here now. We will end this fate, once and for all, and bring you back where you belong."

As Rhysand explained to her what had transpired in Prythian over the last few decades and what might come, they continued walking together as if it were nothing more than an ordinary stroll. The dense forest gradually thinned, revealing a secluded yet charming estate nestled within the heart of the wild, untouched greenery. It was not a grand palace or an extravagant manor, but rather a rustic cottage, harmoniously entwined with nature as though it had been there since time immemorial.

A modest yet well-tended garden stretched out in front of the house, overflowing with wildflowers and herbs that Y/N had clearly cultivated with great care. The air was thick with the rich aroma of fresh earth and the mingling scents of lavender, thyme, and rosemary, creating an atmosphere that was both welcoming and deeply familiar. This was not just a home—it was a sanctuary, hidden away from the rest of the world, a refuge where Y/N had found temporary solace, away from the ever-present shadows of her past. Here, she could exist without constantly looking over her shoulder, without the weight of survival pressing down on her every move.

The house itself was built from ancient stone, its walls weathered by time yet sturdy, whispering stories of years long gone. A thatched roof, slightly uneven in places, lent the cottage an almost mythical charm, as though it belonged in an old tale of magic and fate. Dark wooden shutters framed the windows, casting deep shadows against the warm glow emanating from within. The inside of the house, though simple, carried an air of quiet elegance—a reflection of Y/N’s time spent in nature, her need to heal both body and soul manifesting in every carefully placed trinket and object within.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with glass bottles of tinctures, dried herbs, and books so old their spines were nearly unreadable. Candles flickered softly atop wooden tables, casting elongated shadows that danced across the walls. A fire crackled warmly in the stone hearth, its golden embers breathing life into the otherwise silent space. And in the farthest corner of the room stood a small altar, adorned with crystals that shimmered in the dim light, alongside magical artifacts that pulsed with ancient energy—a silent reminder of the power Y/N once wielded and the connection she still held to the arcane.

Above the fireplace hung a large, hand-painted portrait of a wild creature—her dog, the one constant in her life. His eyes, captured perfectly in the painting, held a deep, knowing intelligence, as if he understood more of the world than any mere beast should. This dog was not just a pet; he was her guardian, her silent companion through the years, the only unwavering presence in a life that had been defined by loss and betrayal. In the quiet of the house, with only the crackling fire for company, she had whispered her secrets to him, confided in him when there was no one else to turn to. And now, as she stood on the precipice of change once again, he was there—just as he had always been.

"Come," Y/N said softly, gripping the dog’s leash as she turned toward the house. "I have a few things I need to take with me."

She stepped forward, her boots pressing into the damp earth, the scent of rain lingering in the air. The dog let out a low whine, sensing the shift in her emotions, and she reached down to run her fingers through his thick fur in silent reassurance.

Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian remained at the edge of the garden, watching her with patient understanding. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of the weight this moment carried. Though none of them spoke, they knew Y/N needed this—this final moment to say goodbye to the life she had built here, to the solitude that had become both her prison and her sanctuary.

She disappeared into the house, the heavy wooden door closing behind her with a quiet thud. The room felt different now, as if it could sense the farewell hanging in the air. She moved with practiced efficiency, pulling old satchels from a wooden chest and filling them with vials of carefully crafted potions, bundles of dried herbs, and a handful of personal relics she could not bear to leave behind.

Her fingers hesitated over a small crystal pendant resting in a carved wooden box. It had been with her for as long as she could remember, a relic of a life that felt like a distant dream. Next to it, an old leather-bound book sat waiting—her own handwritten journal on the art of healing, filled with secrets and discoveries she had made in her years of study. It was more than just a collection of knowledge; it was a piece of her, a testament to the life she had carved out for herself in exile.

At the very bottom of the chest lay a weathered scroll wrapped in delicate fabric, the edges yellowed with age. Y/N stared at it for a long moment before carefully tucking it into her bag. It contained research spanning years—her attempts to understand the origin of her abilities, the power that had both defined and doomed her. It was all she had left of the world she had been forced to leave behind, a fragile thread connecting her to the past she had once belonged to.

With her bags packed and her heart heavy, she made her way back to the door, pausing for a single moment to take in the home she had built. The fire, the books, the small trinkets scattered across the shelves—all of it was a reflection of the life she had lived here. But that life was over now.

Her dog let out a soft bark, breaking her from her thoughts, and she turned to him with a small, bittersweet smile. "Time to go."

When she stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around her like a silent embrace. She hesitated, glancing back at the house one final time, as if committing every detail to memory. The dog pressed against her side, his quiet presence grounding her.

Rhysand watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. Azriel took a step forward, his sharp gaze scanning the trees for any potential threats. Cassian, standing slightly apart, observed the scene with an unusual quietness, his brow furrowed as though deep in thought.

"Are you ready?" Rhysand’s voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that settled heavily in the cool night air.

Y/N inhaled deeply, gripping the strap of her bag as she met his gaze. "I don’t know if ‘ready’ is the right word. It feels like the end of a life I never truly lived... and the beginning of something I don’t yet understand."

"You don’t have to understand everything right now." Rhysand stepped closer, his violet eyes searching hers. "You don’t have to decide who you are all at once. What matters is that you’re not alone anymore. You’re not in exile. We are here. Azriel, Cassian, the Inner Circle—we are here for you."

Y/N looked down at her dog, who stood unwavering at her side, before lifting her gaze back to them. "I’ve spent so long running, so long hiding. Every time I’ve been forced to start over, I’ve lost a piece of myself."

"But you belong with us, Y/N." Cassian took a step forward, his voice calm but full of conviction. "You have abilities that can help us all. And more than that – you are a healer, one of those we so desperately need when the war comes. We must stand together."

Y/N looked at him, a spark of uncertainty in her eyes, yet at the same time, she could feel the truth in his words. "You're right. The war… Koschei," she murmured, then turned to Rhysand. "That's why you're here, isn't it? Not just to bring me back, but because you need me as a healer."

Rhysand nodded slowly. "Yes. There is an impending war that affects us all. Koschei and his army of the dead are gathering a force. It will not be easy to defeat them. The dead cannot be killed again, and it will be an incredible challenge to fight them. We need not only warriors but also healers who can handle this kind of darkness. Madja has agreed to open a clinic to train new healers, but she cannot focus on that as long as she remains the healer of the Inner Circle. We need someone we can trust – and that is you, Y/N."

"Me?" Y/N asked, surprised, then shook her head slightly. "But… why me of all people? Why should I return to this world again? After everything that happened?"

"Because you are one of the few who are capable of mastering the magic we need to survive this war." Rhysand took a step closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are strong, Y/N. And fate has given you more than just the ability to heal. You are so much more than that. You are a warrior just as much as you are a healer. We cannot leave you behind."

Y/N took a deep breath, still holding tightly onto the dog that had always been by her side. "The dog… he has to come with me. I can't leave him behind. He never left me, and he is all I have left."

Azriel, who had mostly been observing and not really speaking, now stepped toward her and nodded understandingly. "No problem, Y/N. Your dog comes with us, no matter what." He grinned as he looked at the dog, who sat down on the ground and wiggled his ears as if he were agreeing.

"We are all ready," Cassian said calmly, but his words carried great weight. "The road will be long, and the war will be brutal, but you belong with us, Y/N. There is no better place for you than by our side."

Y/N looked back and forth between the three of them. She could see the determination in their eyes and knew that she couldn't turn back. Not anymore.

"So, what now?" she asked, a small smile hesitating on her lips. "Do we set off?"

Rhysand nodded. "Yes. There’s no reason to wait. Time is running out. We must return to Velaris, and Madja will teach you everything you need to know. And then, when the war comes… you will be ready."

"Ready to fight whatever comes." Y/N smiled slightly as she took one last look at her little house and then followed the others down the path.

The dog jumped ahead as if he were the first to welcome this new beginning, and Y/N followed him, firmly determined that this path was the final beginning—the beginning that would not only change her fate but also the fate of Prythian.

The moment the portal opened again, it was like a tear in time itself. The crystal glowing in Rhysand's hand pulsed gently with a golden shimmer, and a cold, almost electric sensation filled the air. The energy of the portal was tangible, like a constant pull that distorted reality as they stepped through.

The first sensation was as if the air suddenly became thinner, the colors blurred, and everything around them was bathed in a shimmering, silver light. The world seemed to bend around them as if they were being pulled by the dimensions themselves. Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, and Y/N all felt their bodies lightly fluttering, as if they were gliding across the surface of water—a flickering feeling that was both refreshing and unsettling. This was not the usual way they traveled, but rather the transition between worlds, which had no fixed rules.

"It feels like carrying the whole world inside you." Y/N whispered, her hand gripping the dog tightly, who walked calmly by her side as if he knew this was a moment that was anything but ordinary.

"It will be over soon. Ready?" Rhysand asked, his voice steady despite the eerie silence in the air. He could feel the pressure of reality around them as the portal reformed.

Then, in an instant, as the vibrations of magic doubled, they were pulled through the final, shimmering gate. It was as if the world closed around them, and the moment of transition was over. One last, painful jolt that hurled them from the void, the nothingness between worlds, back into familiar reality.

With a landing that almost felt physical, they arrived at the House of Wind.

The moment they felt the ground beneath their feet again, it was like reaching solid ground after a storm at sea. The portal they had just passed through closed behind them with a soft hiss, dispersing the magic. The air here was clear and fresh, the wind blowing through the tower’s windows carried the salty scent of the sea drifting from Velaris.

They stood in the entrance hall of the House of Wind—a place that was a refuge for many and a symbol of strength and secrets for others. The stone walls and the large windows that offered a view of the vast landscape were a familiar sight to Rhysand and his companions. The high ceiling of the house, allowing sunlight to pour in, seemed almost sacred. The place was vast, yet permeated by a certain tranquility found only in the most secluded corners of Velaris.

"Welcome back." Rhysand spoke with a smile that carried a mix of relief and seriousness as he glanced at Y/N.

Y/N looked around, her eyes wide and filled with something close to awe. The room was impressive, its design a mix of understated elegance and unspoken power. "It feels... different." Her voice was quiet as she turned to gaze at the tall, elegant windows that revealed the vast horizon.

"It’s time for you to feel at home here." Cassian stepped closer and nodded. "The Inner Circle is here, Y/N. You are not alone anymore." Cassian grinned and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "And don’t worry, you’ll get used to the luxury quickly. There’s plenty of space, and no one will bother you."

Y/N looked at them one by one. Her thoughts raced—so much had been thrown at her, so many changes in such a short time. But as she looked into their eyes, she knew she was no longer alone. These men, these warriors and allies, were not just her new family but also her new reality.

A new beginning.

-

Taglist: @princesssunderworld

Want to be added? Let me know :)

[emryslore]

Sterek Fic Recs

Tag: Protective!Derek

If you'd like to request a list of recs from me just shoot me an ask and ill get back to you asap!!

Now lets get right into this!! Please Enjoy!

The Mummy (M) 28K (12/?) by killmesoftly_s

Inspired by my all time favorite movie, The Mummy (1999) When Scott, -Stiles’ step brother and best friend-brings him a key found within a Pharohs crypt depicting the curse of the infamous city; Hamunaptra, a trip is set. It’s in Cairo that the rugged and frustratingly handsome Derek Hale, who is the only living man to know how to find the city of the dead, promises to take him. Death is only the beginning and Stiles is ready for his adventure, stupid hunters and curses be damned. Rated mature for one detailed sex scene.

Autumn comes when you're not yet done (NR) 5.6K (1/1) by Lord_potato

The wolf (Canis lupus) is a mammal of the canine family. Biologically speaking, it is the same species as the domestic dog. The wolf is the largest canine living in the wild. Out of all the northern predators, the wolf is the most social species that prefers to live in packs formed by family units. extract: Werewolves. Fucking werewolves. His son had been hanging out with werewolves and had been fighting werewolves and had been lying about it all to him for longer than he realised. or the fic where Noah Stilinski finds out about werewolves and slowly gets used to being part of the pack.

Matryoshka(s) (E) 23K (5/5) by Gege_from_the_void_89

Stiles becomes known as Koschei when his father gets killed by a woman going by the nickname of Babayaga, and when the boy starts to plan how to avenge his father, the Russian mafia gets brought in sooner than later, till all his plan comes down to one single person he has to charm: Derek Hale. Will Stiles be able to get revenge for his father? Will he be able to handle something that wasn’t part of the plan?

Twilight (E) 67K (2/2) by Hedwig221b

Derek. Stiles thought about him the most. Something told him that it wasn’t the last time, far from it. He thought about his softness and his open desire to kill. Stiles’ hands remembered the heat of his hands. His neck longed to feel the coating warmth of Derek’s breath. His lips burned from the kiss that never happened. Everything was so fucking complicated. Except one thing. It was the only clear thought in his head. The one that made his stomach clench from fear, his heart stutter from hope, and his lips stretch in a smile. He was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Derek.

We Ain’t Angry At You, Love. You’re The Greatest Thing We’ve Lost. (NR) 33K (9/12) by Christell_Nobody

Since Void, so much has happened. His dad is still just as neglectful, and now all his friends just stopped all contact. Derek and Peter left. If it wasn’t for Melissa and Jordan he’d be drowning and probably dead. After his 16th birthday he makes a decision, Melissa and Jordan help him and are supportive, a bit heartbroken but understanding. Noah doesn’t even care what he’s signing. Doesn’t care he signed his parental rights away, but was he ever a parent? With promises to keep contact, he is off. “So pack up your car, put a hand on your heart.”

Yes To Heaven (E) 85K (2/2) by Hedwig221b

Stiles ruined him. The damage was irreparable. He didn’t want the food that wasn’t made by Stiles or shared with him; the water tasted stale; the clothes were asphyxiating and scratchy; the air was wrong, wrong without Stiles’ scent in it. Fuck, what was wrong with him? How could that pretty little thing change him so much? He had an iron grip on his control before, being in tandem with his instincts, but within weeks, all of it was gone. As soon as he thought of Stiles, though, of his scent, his moans, and the little wrinkle on his forehead as he orgasmed, his mind settled. What was life before Stiles? Everything was somewhere far, far away, forgotten, bleak, and meaningless. Derek thought he knew what light was as he looked at the microscopic dots of the stars above. Then Stiles came into his life and showed him the sun.

[briaberri]

Vassa the Fire Queen fantasy wardrobe: Cursed, Triumphant, Witty, Haunted, Just.

I appreciate that Elain's empathetic subconscious began seeking out this human before she even understood that she herself was a Seer. She referenced the queen with feathers of flame as one who was changed, "as I was." Elain will fight for Vassa's freedom, allied with Lucien, because they believe in the worth of agency, choice, and love.

[florencemtrash]

Heads Will Roll | Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Warnings: Violence (aka Reader kills some fae and Rhysand and Azriel are 100% cool with it), fluff

One of Koschei's followers turns up to the Court of Nightmares prepared to make a bargain: your life in exchange for Ataraxia. But he'll soon learn that you are not to be underestimated, and you are always exactly where you want to be.

Azriel bristled from behind Feyre’s shoulder when the male winnowed into the Court of Nightmares in a dramatic display of power that had everyone beneath the dais falling back.

He was all sharp lines, emboldened by the pure black silhouette of his cape that flared out behind him, teasingly parting to reveal the bone white sword strapped to his right hip that seemed to whisper with horrible power. The only piece of him that didn’t look like it was cut from death and destruction were his bright blue eyes - startlingly innocent and all the more unnerving for it. He fit in well with the violence the Court of Nightmares naturally radiated. 

Rhysand’s eyebrow curled up in a look of carefully crafted boredom from atop his obsidian throne. The only one who looked more nonchalant than him was Feyre. She tilted her head up, staring down the slant of her nose to the unknown male as he extended his arms and bowed as prettily as a bird. 

“Greetings.” Even his voice was sharp and cutting. “To the Lord and Lady.” 

Cassian frowned from behind Rhysand’s back at the omission of their proper title. To the outside, Rhysand was anything if not bored. Inside, he was ready to blow the male to bits. He wore Koschei’s stamp on his forehead, red and dripping like a fresh wound.

Neither the High Lord nor the High Lady deigned to reply.

The male only smiled. All teeth. 

“I come to you on behalf of my master.” His smile grew. More teeth. “You may have heard his name.” 

“Koschei.” The name rolled off Feyre’s lips as easily as if she were ordering a meal - blasé and unimportant. But the name shifted the energy in the room, stirring up hornet's nests of gossip. Heads bowed towards one another like grass stalks in the wind, whispering.

Feyre tapped one finger on her forehead, “He has a fondness for marking his followers.”

“Like a collar on a dog.” Rhysand finished. He stroked the bond, grounded by the feeling of Feyre’s very soul on the other side. She had always been - and always would be - his calm.

“My name is Darwynn.” The male tipped his white head, “And I bring news from my master. News you may find worthy of your time.” 

Azriel’s heart picked up in his chest. 

He knew what was coming - the words that would soon slip out of Darwynn’s mouth. You’d been gone for over a week and he felt your absence from his side as intensely as if someone had ripped the wings from his back. Empty, cold, and unbalanced.

For the first three days he hadn’t worried, even as the bond lay dormant in his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hunt after secrets, unraveling mysteries like threads in a coat or diving into the unknown with an insatiable appetite.

Three days were nothing. But nine days was getting to be concerning.

“Go on.” Feyre said with a wave of her hand, looking more interested in the glass of wine in her hand than anything else. 

Darwynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin string of silver stained with blood - a necklace crafted from unbreakable metal with a deep blue pendant swaying like a pendulum. It was a piece of one of Azriel’s siphons, imbued with a small measure of his power and given to you as a Solstice gift after you’d accepted the bond. In the twenty years you’d been together, you’d never once taken it off. It was unnatural to see it swinging in the cruel male's hands.

Cassian growled. Azriel’s jaw clenched, beautiful brows lifting only ever so slightly in surprise. It was the only expression the Shadowsinger had shown all night.

Rhysand mirrored his expression. “Ahhhh yes, my sister. How long has she been missing for now, Az?” Rhysand looked back at him, some unspoken agreement passing through that brief glance. If this male had truly captured you, he would not be leaving this room with his head still on his shoulders.

“Nine days.” The Shadowsinger said, his mouth twitching to the side in a cryptic mix of a smirk and a snarl.

“You have her.” Feyre said. It wasn’t a question.

Darwynn’s eyes lit up with glee and he nodded, clapping his hands together like a child opening birthday presents.

“And what do you want for her? That is why you are here, is it not?” Feyre said once his “applause” ended.

Darwynn shook his finger at her, “It is comforting to know that since Amarantha’s trials, you’ve learned to - how shall I say this? Read between the lines.” 

“Careful.” Rhysand said, a warning trapped within that honey-laced word. Feyre’s illiteracy was hardly a concern for anyone anymore - Rhysand had seen to that - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a subject that smarted and burned when prodded. 

Feyre’s dark red lips only turned up in a small smirk. Her mate would not allow any harm to befall her - even insults from pathetic creatures such as Darwynn.

"But I digress." Darwynn said silkily, “You should know she is uninjured-” 

“Obviously,” Cassian huffed under his breath, stealing a glance at his brother beside him. Azriel was handling this surprisingly well. If it were Nesta who’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, Cassian would not be able to school his emotions so readily. 

“And my master would like to make a trade.”

“A trade?” Rhysand said, displaying more interest in the subject than ever before. This was an opportunity to play Koschei’s hand. To gain whatever knowledge they could from the slippery sorcerer who was gaining more momentum each passing day. Koschei was still confined to his lake on the continent, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. No, not at all. 

Darwynn pointed a knowing finger at Rhysand’s belt where Ataraxia rested as silent as the death that hung over a deep winter’s night. 

“I see.” Rhysand said. 

So that’s what he wants. Feyre spoke to him through the bond, Some trace of Nesta’s power.

Y/n was right. He wants to leave the lake.

And he needs whatever power Nesta took from the Cauldron to do it.

Rhys hummed in thought, one finger lazily tracing the edge of his drink. He knew his sister, knew the power that raced through her veins, and she was not one to be trifled with. But people loved to underestimate her - the poor second child too weak and damaged to fight after losing her wings to the old High Lord of Spring. The female who rested on her brother’s strength and crown like a sapling tied to a stake. She wielded those assumptions carefully. It was perhaps one of her greatest weapons. 

Nine days. She’d been gone for nine days. Nine days since he’d sent her on a mission to the continent to spy on Koschei’s followers. Six days since anyone had heard from her. Three days since her scheduled return. 

Azriel stiffened and blinked - a movement so subtle that only Rhys, Cass, and Feyre noticed. All at once the tension left Rhysand's shoulders. Such a reaction from Az could only mean one thing - you'd arrived.

Rhysand clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking a deep draught of his wine and muttered, “She’s late.” 

“She likes to be thorough.” Azriel said with the smallest of smiles.

“Even so. I don’t like to be kept waiting. She could’ve been captured sooner. Escaped earlier. Given us notice that she was coming.” He shook his raven black hair.

Azriel smirked, feeling the strength of the bond in his chest. Never wavering, “Maybe she finally decided to adopt your flair for the dramatic.” His golden hazel eyes flickered upward for the briefest of moments and you flashed him a quick smile from where you hid in the mountain rock above.

You’d only just opened your side of the bond, love and reassurance rolling over him like a flood. You were safe. You were whole. And you had carried out your plan beautifully.

Sorry to keep you waiting, my love. I had business to attend to. You spoke to your mate and only him.

I'd wait forever for you. You know that.

He felt your laughter through the bond like the fresh rain.

Who would've guessed the Spymaster's such a romantic.

Only for you. Only for you.

Darwynn narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line as pale as the moon. Something had changed in the air and he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He knew the Inner Circle were practiced in hiding their emotions but this… they almost looked pleased. Cassian especially was grinning like a madman, suppressing his laughter as Rhysand sent his thoughts to his mind.

“My master keeps good on his promises. But until you give me the bade, I can’t promise you what pieces of your wife there will be left to bring back.” Darwynn snarled, even as that feeling of dread grew in his stomach. He’d walked in here so confident. He needed to regain that confidence. He relaxed his shoulders. Stood up taller.

A wet thud echoed throughout the hall. Someone screamed - a female with blue-gray skin reeled backward, one hand clamped over her mouth in horror as she tripped over her blood-splattered silks. 

A decapitated head - warm, oozing, and less than a day old - lolled on the floor. Its eyes were frozen in a look of surprised horror. 

Darwynn’s heart stuttered to a stop when he recognized the bloated and bruised face. The face of one of his strongest males, left behind on the continent to watch over Koschei’s prison. 

Rhysand smirked and raised his wine glass towards Darwynn. The High Lord’s power flooded out over the room, knitting together a powerful web of magic that made it impossible for anyone to winnow in or out. Except for you of course - his darling sister who never failed to find the weak points in his magic and slip through as slyly as a cat. 

“There’s something you should know about my dear sister.” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the near-silent room without even trying.

A second head dropped from the ceiling. Then a third. Then a fourth. Laid out in a neat little arc around Darwynn.

“She never gets caught. She is always precisely where she wants to be.” 

Azriel’s eyes were trained on the slate gray arches overheard where he could just barely make out your form as you winnowed around the room, hiding in the shadows and dropping your gruesome packages in a neat circle around Darwynn’s shaking form.

The male unsheathed his sword, spinning around madly and counting every thud until all twelve of your guards were accounted for. 

All dead. 

All of them.

He growled dangerously, eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, icy blue as he aimed his power at the dais, right towards Rhysand. Azriel smiled with cruel satisfaction when you slipped out from behind Darwynn’s silhouette, bloodied and menacing. The knife glinted in the faelight, catching the curve of your arm as you spun around and drove the weapon through Darwynn’s eye. The light wrapping around him fizzled out into anything.

The male rocked on his feet, arms going slack and dropping the sword with a clatter on the ground. His legs gave out soon after, his body crumpling in on itself as easily as paper. 

You calmly rolled down the sleeves of your blood-soaked shirt, flicking a piece of gore off your shoulder in a manner so similar to Rhysand that your brother couldn't help but chuckle. 

You flashed him a grin - a stroke of white brushed across a red splattered canvas. 

“Brother.” You said, tipping your chin up in a show of greeting. 

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, sister?” Rhysand gestured out to the Court of Nightmares. You spared them a look. Everyone looked positively sinful in their scraps of silk and exposed skin, silent and trembling as their dinners burned their way up from their stomachs to their throats.

You shrugged and winked at Rhys, “I learned from the best.” 

“Go get cleaned up.” He said. It was a clear and direct command, but you didn’t miss the warmth and hint of pride in his voice.

“As my High Lord commands.” You said, bowing deeply. 

At home. Rhysand spoke in your mind as you straightened. Get some rest. You did well.

You sighed in relief, happy that you would be free from whatever Court of Nightmare business left to attend to.

Thank you.

There was a brief pause before Rhysand continued, But next time you plan to get kidnapped, let me know. I was actually starting to worry and I’m not sure my old heart can take it.

You snorted, I’ll keep your elderly constitution in mind next time.

You dipped your head once more before winnowing to the River House. The smell of home nearly knocked you off your feet.

There would be more time to joke around with your brother - more time to tell him everything you’d learned - but right now you were in desperate need of a bath.

______________

You sank into your third bath of the night, groaning in pleasure as the hot water rolled over your aching muscles. The first two baths had purely functioned to scrub off the dried blood from your hair and skin. The majority of it wasn’t yours. But this bath, with all the fragrant oils and scents, was for enjoyment and relaxation.

It was no easy business getting kidnapped, and no easy business escaping. But like every other mission, you’d made away like a bandit in the night, carrying with you priceless pieces of knowledge and enough secrets to demolish an entire court. 

Your eyes flickered open at the feeling of shadows lacing around your arms, soothing your skin with a cool touch that was no replacement for the hands that followed. 

Finally your mate had decided to join you.

You sighed in happiness as Azriel trailed his fingers up your arms, scarred hands landing at your neck and gently tilting your head back so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips.

The bond sang within your chest more joyfully than a songbird. You didn’t like silencing this connection, you didn’t like shutting Azriel out, but sometimes your work necessitated it. It was for your safety as much as his. But no one understood that more than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel’s voice vibrated through the air, warming your chest and shaking your bones. 

“Hello, Azriel.” You murmured, soapy hands trailing through his raven black hair so that he was completely surrounded by your scent.

“Gods, I missed you.” He said. He knelt on the tiled floor behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare chest as he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. “I missed you so much." A kiss on your neck, "So, so much.”

“I missed you too.” You murmured, pulling him around to the side of the tub so that you could see him better. You traced the faint purple bruises beneath his eyes. Not an unfamiliar sight. Azriel had never been a restful sleeper, but since mating and marrying you, he’d been spoiled rotten and now could barely sleep a wink without you curled up in his arms. 

“Sorry I messed up your hair.” You apologized, twirling the now damp strands of his hair so they curled around your fingers. 

He smiled. It was a rare sight to anyone other than you, but seeing him happy never ceased to warm your bones.

“You did well, darling.” He said, smoothing back your hair before saying more seriously, “But next time could you tell me your plans before you shut me out?” 

You winced. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time.”

“I figured as much.” Azriel said, kissing your cheeks to show that he wasn’t upset. You leaned into his touch as he traced your cheekbones with his thumbs. 

You were the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than his wings. More precious than his freedom. More precious than the 500 hundred years it had taken him to finally realize what you were to him. The thought of losing you was more painful than a knife to the stomach.

“You can trust me.” You said, “I know how to handle myself.” 

Azriel chuckled and shook his head, “I am very well aware of both those things,” He tilted his head in thought, “And I’m fairly certain everyone else also knows now.” 

You blushed, “Maybe it was a bit much.” 

Azriel shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is one thing.”

“And what is this one thing?” You asked, leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss. He tasted like cedar and rain. He tasted like home.

“That you should never be afraid of showing your power. Never. No matter what happens. No matter what people say.” 

His hand that had been cradling the back of your neck moved down, tracing the scars on your shoulder blades where your wings had once been. You shivered under his touch, but didn’t recoil. He understood. He was perhaps the only person who understood what it meant to have such a physical piece of yourself taken away. 

You kissed his hands, taking care to feel every valley beneath your lips and worship them. They were a part of him now, tied to him as much as his shadows were, and so how could you not love them? How could you not love him? This male who was your equal in every way imaginable and who made you feel happier and safer than you ever thought possible. 

He helped you out of the bathtub, drying your skin and hair before carefully brushing through all the tangles and knots. 

“I should go report to Rhys.” You said with little determination as Azriel laid you out on the bed and then crawled under the covers beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both under the protective cover of his wings.

“Let it wait until tomorrow. Let me have you tonight.” 

You smiled, “I’ve only been gone nine days.” 

His hazel eyes melted into yours. “Nine days too long, Y/n.” 

You could never deny him anything when he looked at you like that, so full of feeling and a rawness too intense for words. And it wasn’t like you were dying to leave this bed and chase after your brother. Like Azriel had said - it could wait until tomorrow. So you melted into his arms and watched as Azriel slowly fell into a deep sleep for the first time in nine days.

______________

Author's note:

A woman covered in the blood of her enemies is *chef's kisses*

That's it. That's the note.

[youareatragedy]

I don’t know if they ever touched on this in the books, but I find it odd that in a group of really really attractive people, not a single one of the IC members has at least one bastard child. Okay, Amren shouldn’t count (and maybe Mor too with her trauma), but the three supposedly hottest guys in high-ranking positions in their court? And they do sleep around. I’m shocked none of them has a bastard, including Rhysand, because he’s a High Lord.

Realistically, as the sole heir, shouldn’t he at least think about securing his bloodline as soon as he can? At its core, the one thing he can secure is his bloodline and family name, right? Since it’s the magic that chooses the next HL (and all of it is about power) the magic wouldn’t care whether that person is a bastard or not. He could at least try to secure his family name while hoping his bastard ends up being the next HL.

And please don’t say, “they just haven’t found the right person yet” because that misses the point of the word 'bastard'. Or “there was a war” because that sure as hell didn’t stop Feysand from being dumb and having a kid when it was almost guaranteed that there’d be a war with Beron/Koschei coming. And “It’s hard for fae to conceive” is such a weak excuse too. These guys have been screwing around for hundreds of years (maybe thousands of female??). SJM could easily make one of them have a bastard child.

It just seems stupid and like it’s trying too hard to make them seem oh so noble and waiting for their mates (remember 'mates' should be a very rare thing anyway). Because even though he doesn’t know, Helion has a bastard. So why not anyone in the IC? Maybe SJM could actually do something interesting and introduce Cassian’s bastard in the next book... and it’s Balthazar. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA (literally laughed as I typed this).

Prythian’s contraceptive methods are apparently very effective and they probably have great abortion care… unless you’re Feyre.

[ceoofyearning]

I only pray, don’t fall away from me

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The world feels like it’s falling apart around you, but Azriel finally comes home and helps you hold all the pieces together.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt and Comfort, depressive themes & thoughts, anxiety, nightmares, mentions of a minor character death (not the mc/reader) || please mind the tags.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this week was though so here’s a bit of a hurt & comfort fic; hope your days are kind to you guys xoxo

Links: Fic Masterlist | My Art

You’re so damn tired.

The last few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. The healing house has been filled to the brim with the wounded and sick. Altercations with Beron’s soldiers by the border have been increasing at an alarming rate, while countless spies from the continent have been winnowed in after being caught by Koschei’s contingent forces. You can’t even begin to imagine the state of the civilians that might’ve been caught in the crossfire. 

There is tension in the air with the threat of the inevitable war looming on the horizon. It doesn’t help that the winter chill, in all of its foreboding fury, has come to ravage the lands and its people. You love your work as a healer, you really do. Some days, the thought of the good you do, the people you help, is enough to keep you going. But too often, it feels like a thankless job that leaves you drained to the core. 

In your free time, you’ve been parsing through ancient texts in search of information on Death Gods and anything that could be used against Koschei. His looming threat is a cloud of dread that hangs over everyone, especially Rhys. The least you could do is to help carry the burden. It’s not like you could sleep, anyway. These days it is as though your mind adamantly refuses to let you rest. At the very least, the task keeps you distracted when you’re stuck alone in your apartment. 

Ever since Azriel had been sent to the continent for a reconnaissance mission nearly a month ago, the apartment you share has started to feel a little too big, too desolate. Before you knew it, the white walls had been transmuted from your home into what felt like the bars of a cage. 

The two of you haven't been apart for so long since the mating bond snapped. You didn’t think you'd feel his absence as acutely as you did, but it felt like the loss of a limb where the wound refused to heal and you were already bleeding out. His part of the bond is blacked out completely, a devouring void where Azriel’s comforting presence should have been. It’s for your own safety, he said. But you can’t help it. You’re plagued with worry, with imagined hurts and tragedies, amplifying the brewing conflict in your mind. 

It is easier to catch yourself when Azriel is near. When the thoughts begin to swirl like a hurricane around you - winds whipping, oceans rising - it feels like Azriel’s arms are the only safe harbor you can rely on. But Azriel isn’t here now. 

What frustrates you most is that you’ve been better recently. You’ve been good. You ate your meals, slept reasonably, even had a goddamned routine set up. You guzzled down your tonics in hopes of smoothing out the edges of your frayed mind, that perhaps it could lend you some semblance of normalcy. But no. Weeks of being haunted by nightmares, of overextending yourself, of loss and suffering seeping under your skin day by day have taken its toll. 

You are just too damn tired. 

A child died, barely over thirteen years old. She was bastard-born, which meant she had nothing to her name other than the rags on her back and her birthright to suffer generational oppression and cruelty. This is the worst winter the Night Court has had in centuries, and she didn’t even have a decent roof over her head. Needless to say, she hadn’t been in the best health. But despite that, the moment her cycle had come, the men forced her to go through the clipping. In her struggle, the imbeciles accidentally nicked a vital artery. Normally, her Illyrian healing would’ve granted her a strong chance for survival, but she had been so sick, her body weakened by hours spent in the frigid cold. 

By the time you had been summoned to heal her, she no longer had the strength to recover. Numbness washed over you at the image of her unseeing eyes, the same shade as Azriel’s in the right light, trained toward the vast empty sky. You have a feeling it isn’t a sight you’d forget any time soon. 

You don’t know how long it’s been. The room is shrouded with a thick blanket of darkness, the only respite coming from the dwindling candlelight by your bedside. Only silence exists within these four walls, interrupted by the occasional patter of water leaking from the kitchen sink. You burrow deeper into the sheets, inhaling the trace of Azriel’s scent that still lingered like it would somehow quell this ache inside you. 

Despite spending most of the day bedbound, you’ve barely had any sleep. There is no respite to be found in the dreaming, only nightmares lying in wait. It seems your mind has a knack of bringing your worst fears. Azriel bruised, bloodied and utterly alone, lost, somewhere in the vastness of the continent, hazel eyes - his, then hers, then his again - glazing over, crimson seeping into the arid ground below. 

For the last few weeks, you’ve gathered your grief and worry like rocks to wear around your neck. Your body is heavy, the phantom weight sinking and settling within the marrow of your bones, refusing to leave. It feels like you could stay in this bed forever until you dissipate into nothing but sand, smoke and thought.

You managed to send out a request for the texts Rhys needed translated, but not much else. You’re thankful he directly portalled them on your worktable because you don’t think you could brave the journey to the library today. You don’t think you could do much of anything today, in all honesty. 

So there you lay, bundled up in a collection of blankets, at least three inches of cotton and down that never seem enough to warm you. A book rests in your hands, yet your eyes remain unfocused, not truly seeing the words.

You run your thumb over the crisp paper, knowledge older than you, older than this city and yet you couldn't even bring yourself to focus long enough to dissect their true meaning. Your will is liquid in your hands, slipping through the cracks in between your fingers. Accidentally, you tug too hard on a page and it tears easily beneath your touch. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve been horrified by what you’ve just done. But as you are now, it is difficult to care. 

That’s what you feel like at this moment, you realize. These past few weeks have left you feeling spent, worn out, paper thin. Absently, you stretch out your hand towards the candlelight, close enough to feel the warmth lick against your cool skin. The flame casts a brilliant silhouette around your shadowed hand. It’s a wonder why golden light doesn’t seep right through. 

That’s how Azriel finds you.

The front door of your apartment creeks open, letting in a flood of muted morning light. Your first instinct is to retreat beneath the covers to shield yourself. Azriel calls your name in the silence, worry permeating each syllable. No doubt, he is cataloging the mess your shared space had become in your unintentional neglect. 

You say nothing, wondering if you could just close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, anything to escape his scrutiny. A breath of relief escapes him when he finds you in bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits beside you. 

The urge to curl tighter around yourself is strong. But he repeats your name and, as though he had cast a spell, you unspool before him, your muscles unwinding, one fiber at a time. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, voice painfully soft.

“Okay,” you croak out from beneath the blankets. 

Azriel gradually draws the sheets away from your body, giving you ample time to protest if you’d like. Then, he rests his hand on your shoulder. Unbidden, a shiver runs down your spine, followed by a stuttered breath. You don’t realize how much you missed his touch until his textured hand begins its soothing path up and down your back, his heat sinking into your skin. 

Shame washes over you despite the bone-deep comfort you find upon his gentle ministrations. You don’t want him to see you this way. Azriel deserves better, the voices in your head insist. He deserves a mate whose mind does not devour itself at every given opportunity, a mate who does not quake beneath the weight of the world and the idea of their own immortal existence.

As though detecting your train of thought, his shadows leave their preferred perch on his shoulders to pool around you instead. Tendrils of darkness brush away the tears on your face, while some thread through your hair like a gentle breeze. 

On the other hand, Azriel urges you to rest your head on his lap. He begins to run his hand through your hair, uncaring of how greasy and tangled it has become. Eventually, his voice pierces the silence, injecting warmth into the distance between you. He hums a tune you do not recognize, but you can't help but cling to each winding note like a lifeline. Azriel has always had a beautiful voice - depthless, silken and soothing. It feels like a privilege to hear the song that he normally reserves for his shadows.

You must’ve been a pitiful sight to behold, and yet Azriel never looks at you like you are. He always treats you like something to cherish, something to love, like you’re someone he’s spent lifetimes desperately waiting for and you’ve been entirely worth the wait. A traitorous part of you feels like you’ll never deserve it, this love.

Azriel must sense the hurricane of emotions waging a one-sided war in your head, despite the mental shields you adamantly keep up. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t brush off your worry with empty words and false promises. Instead, he simply says, “I love you.” 

He speaks it as though it is a fact like one would say that the sky is blue, and the grass is green, and the world would keep on turning in peteruity, orbiting the sun the same way you’ll continue to orbit around each other. His chapped lips ghost over your temple, murmuring your name like a plea, a prayer. 

“More than anything in this world,” he adds as he pulls you into his embrace. 

Your body is pliant for him, arms winding around his neck like that is where they’re meant to be. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you impossibly closer. Webbed wings stretch to curl around the two of you, creating a cocoon of darkness that keeps the rest of the world at bay. With your head resting on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding in chorus with yours. 

“I love you too,” you reply after a long stretch of silence. “But sometimes I wish you could’ve had a better mate.” 

“There is no one better,” Azriel insists. “There is only you, my love; through light, through darkness, through whichever end. Only you.” And you feel the truth of his words as surely as the twinned beating of your hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to convince your traitorous mind that you could have this, that someone could love you so deeply despite having seen you at your worst. Azriel presses another kiss against your cheek, and despite yourself, you begin to believe his words.

You don’t know how long Azriel holds you like that, but it finally feels like a stretch of eternity you could bear.

“What can I do to help, love?” Azriel prompts, cupping your face in the cradle of his scarred palms - their texture, a familiar comfort. 

You turn over his question in your head for a few moments, savoring his scent, the sensation of his skin against your own. A part of you is tempted to ask him to lay beside you for the rest of the day, for a week, for an entire lifetime. You know Azriel would if you asked it of him. But beyond this room, the world continues its elliptical path around the sun and time still ticks on regardless of how disconnected you feel from your own reality. 

“A bath,” is all you manage to say.

Azriel nods, before reluctantly peeling himself from you. “Have you eaten?” 

“‘M not hungry,” you mumble as you sink back into the sheets, sighing as the comforter swallows you up. In truth, you can’t remember when your last meal had been. Hunger didn’t seem so pressing in the last few days.

“That’s not what I asked.” Azriel’s tone leaves no room for argument or negotiation. 

“No,” you finally answer, although with much trepidation. “Not yet.” 

He hums, clearly displeased, but says nothing else. You can already imagine the frown that must be stretching across his face. But it seems Azriel’s presence alone is enough to quieten your mind, at least for now. You must’ve been dead tired because it doesn’t take long for the rhythmic sound of Azriel's familiar footfalls to lull you into dreamless sleep.

"Love," Azriel whispers, his hand hovering over your shoulder, rousing you from your shallow slumber. You blink languidly until molten eyes come into focus. The candlelight flickers, and shadows dance across his face. Azriel’s normally sharp features are softened by the tenderness in his expression. You’ll never tire of waking to the sight of him. 

With a groan, you half-roll half-stumble out of bed. Azriel stays an arm’s length away in case you need him, but he’s careful not to crowd you. His shadows have no such reservations, however. The dark tendrils fretfully twine around your arms, making you smile. You thank them quietly, and for a moment, they seem to dance with delight. Regardless of your initial unsteadiness, you manage to pad all the way to the bathroom.

Upon crossing the threshold, the sweet scent of jasmine immediately overtakes your senses. The tub has already been filled up, steam rising from the sun-covered surface. You begin to unbutton your tunic, clumsy fingers tumbling through your first few attempts. Azriel steadies your hands with his firm grip, his shadows gently circling your wrists. 

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your tunic, and you nod, not wanting to think anymore. His movements are precise, almost clinical, while he undoes the first five buttons, before bunching the garment in his hands and pulling it over your head entirely. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh once exposed to the cold air. Azriel is careful to keep his gaze on your face, even as you step out of your undergarments. 

Azriel only betrays his composure when he traces your cheekbone, like he can’t quite help himself. From this distance, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. The bond glows bright between you, the golden thread gleaming as though it hadn't spent the last few weeks completely stretched thin. 

But then, Azriel withdraws, tilting his head to the steaming tub. Obediently, you step into the water’s warm embrace, the heat nearly stinging your skin. Logically, however, you know it’s only because you’ve allowed yourself to stay in the cold for too long. 

A relieved sigh escapes you as you sink further into the tub. One of his shadows rushes to pillow your heavy head as it rests on the tub’s rim. You thank the sweet little thing, and swirls of black sway back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. Meanwhile, Azriel takes his place by the head of the tub, sitting back on his heels. 

“I’d like to wash your hair,” he says and you're touched by the earnest quality his voice takes. 

“Okay,” you breathe. You’ve never been good at denying Azriel anything, nor did you want to. The more the ice beneath your skin thaws, the more you find that you want him near. 

Azriel begins by running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he pours warm water over your head. With a pop of a bottle, the floral scent of shampoo fills the air. He lathers the substance on your head, his touch tender even as his fingers work through the knots in the strands, untangling them with care. 

After a while, he rinses off the suds and coats his hands with oil. He begins combing his fingers through your hair, starting from the ends and working his way up. The rhythmic motion of his fingers is calming as he draws circles against your scalp. You find yourself melting into the moment, feeling utterly content for the first time in what feels like a very long time. 

Once done, Azriel grabs a small towel and asks, “Do you want help washing?”

You shake your head, wanting to do this for yourself, at least. Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he spares you a soft smile. With that, Azriel leaves the towel by the tub and politely excuses himself from the room. With the door left slightly ajar, you could still hear him move around the apartment followed by the lyrical clinking of silverware against ceramic.

It takes you a few minutes to gather the energy to lather yourself with soap, and a few more to finally rise from the bath. But once the grime is off your skin, you feel a bit of the weight wash off with it too. You feel a bit more like yourself.

After drying off, you tug on the silk robe Azriel has left for you, securing it loosely around your waist. Upon exiting, you spy him by the dining table, scooping a generous serving of soup into a bowl. The mouthwatering aroma of rich broth wafts through the room, and you realize just how hungry you are when your stomach growls in protest. You approach him from behind, making sure that each step is audible.

Azriel continues to set up the table, but you can tell he’s aware of your presence from the way his shoulders seem to relax. The sudden urge to have him close is palpable, an instinct so deeply ingrained into your being. So,  gradually, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face on his back. You take a deep inhale, breathing him in - a lungful of moontime mist and cedarwood smoke. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you murmur against Azriel’s back, your voice muffled by his shirt. 

“I’m glad to be home,” he whispers. His hands abandon their task in favor of twining his fingers with your own. 

Azriel turns to face you and holds your face in his hands. Beneath the swathes of sunlight, his eyes are alight with golden flame, flecks of green scattered over his irises like an afterthought. There is nothing but love in his gaze, nothing but acceptance. 

“Thank you,” you say, tilting your head so the words could kiss his lips, not quite touching but close. “For being here, for loving me, for choosing me, everyday.” 

“I will always choose you,” he vows, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Today,” another peck on the tip of your nose; “Tomorrow,” one more on your cheek; “And all the days after,” he finishes with a chaste caress on your lips.

Then, he rests his forehead on yours, your bodies slotted against each other like a lock and its predestined key. In Azriel’s presence, you find it easier to breathe, easier to simply be. For the first time in a long time, your mind is clear and your heart beats in a calm, languid pace that matches his own.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you request, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel’s gaze is searching, scouring for any hint of anything short of absolute certainty. Perhaps you should tell him that in this world of constant change and chaos, he’s the only one you’re certain of.

Azriel must be satisfied with what he finds written across your features because he replies, “So kiss me then,” the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips.

You’re surprised to find that it’s easy to return the playful expression. Your rise to the tips of your toes while your fingers thread through his raven black hair. When your lips touch, it is as though the world breathes a sigh of relief. Reality realigns and everything outside the two of you and your shared breaths turns inconsequential. He moves against you with practiced ease, like the natural ebb and flow of the tide.

An eternity of this, you think, doesn’t seem so daunting after all. 

AN: i’m not sure if that was too much but thank you for reading 💙 As always, i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk thru dm! 💙

Also, I just wanted to yap about the Az fics im in the process of writing:

1. Vampire!Azriel x Reader (Working tittle: Ashes in my wake)

I just love the idea of cannibalism (or yk, blood drinking) as a metaphor for love in literature so here we are. ( @/annikin-im-panicin this is ur influence) This one is a bit of a dark fic (nothing too crazy tho, I think), so i’m not sure how it’ll be received. But the idea has been haunting me for yonks so I just had to write it.

2. Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Lucien’s Best Friend!Reader (Working tittle: Drink dry the river Lethe)

This one is a multichapter fic (maybe 4-7 chapters, we’ll see) so it might take me a while before I start posting, but i’ve mostly finished writing the first (very smutty) and second (very angsty) chapter. I ‘m not entirely sure what direction to bring this yet but maybe you guys can help me decide?

Unrelated to Az, but i’ve been brainworming a poly dark-ish innocent!reader x Feysand fic, and a slightly less dark and more sappy(?) poly warrior!reader x royal!nessian fic. I’m so excited to start these but my pile of wips is giving me the stink eye 😂

[serpentandlily]

Arcane - Azriel x Reader

Azriel x DeathGod!Reader

Summary: Azriel never thought he’d find his mate, was convinced the Mother hadn’t even given him one because he was unworthy. That is, until he stumbles upon his mate while looking for the most unusual ally.

Based on this request.

Warnings: very brief illusion to past SA

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’ve exhausted all our options,” Rhys declared, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m afraid another war is on the horizon. Koschei cannot be dealt with alone.”

“I don’t understand. The weaver and the bone carver were able to be killed,” Cassian interjected. “Why is it impossible for us to find a way to kill Koschei?”

“It took the might of the cauldron to defeat them,” Rhys explained.

“Well, then let’s ask Miriam and Drakon if we can use the cauldron,” Cassian replied, giving the obvious answer.

“It would be no use,” Feyre sighed. “I destroyed the book. We’d have no idea how to cast the spell the King of Hybern used that day. And we risk Koschei, himself, getting his hands on the cauldron.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Mor chimed in. “Something, someone, that could be as powerful as the sorcerer himself. He wasn’t the only God that found their way to Prythian.”

“Most of them are locked up in the Prison,” Rhys said. “And the Prison would not allow us to free any of them even if we wanted to.”

“Az, how has your search for Bryaxis been going?” Feyre asked.

“Not good,” Azriel answered honestly. “It’s like that thing disappeared from Prythian entirely.”

The room was silent for a moment until Amren sat up straight. “Wait, there is someone we could go to for help. As a last resort.”

Rhys lifted his head, staring at her with a heavy resolve. “No, absolutely not. It is too dangerous.”

“You said it yourself, we’re out of options!”

“What are you two talking about?” Feyre asked, looking between them.

Rhys let out a long breath. “Bryaxis…had a sibling. If you could even call her that. Someone who also came from wherever he slipped through from.”

“And why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Mor asked with a glare, crossing her arms.

“Because,” Rhys started. “Like I said, it’s too dangerous to get into contact with her. She’s…well, to be honest, no one really knows much about her. She keeps herself in a dark cave somewhere in the middle. Likes the darkness as much as Bryaxis does.”

“If no one knows much about her, then how do you know she’s dangerous?” Feyre asked. “Everyone was scared of Bryaxis until I went down there and was helped by it.”

“I’ve been told stories of her from my father,” Rhys explained. “How in the past, long before any of us were born, she could cause the fall of entire armies. Could level any court into rubble and dust.”

“And if that’s true, then doesn’t it speak to her character that she hasn’t done any of that? Maybe she is good of heart,” Mor suggested.

“We’re out of options, Rhys,” Amren said. “She might be our last hope.”

“Fine,” Rhys sighed. “I guess we better get ready for a trip to the middle.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian to see him frowning as they stood in front of the dark cave. It was just him, Cass and Rhys who had come here to try and find this creature to ask for help. But it seemed Cassian was already losing his nerve.

“I tried to tell you,” Rhys muttered under his breath. “Azriel, can you scout ahead with your shadows?”

As soon as those words left Rhysand’s mouth, Azriel’s shadows darted ahead, trailing into the cave in a flurry. Azriel’s eyes widened as he was left standing completely bare, exposed. Not a single shadow had stayed with him, which was unusual. He tried to brush it off, tried to hide how uncomfortable he felt without them.

They waited expectantly but his shadows never returned. Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t call them back,” he said to his two brothers watching him. “They aren’t listening to me.”

“That’s…unusual,” Rhysand said, stroking his jaw.

Nothing more was said as the darkness in the cave seemed to grow and grow, almost extending out towards them despite the sun overhead.

“Who are you?”

The feminine voice was sensual yet sweet, playful almost. Nothing like he had been expecting. It struck something inside of Azriel, making his chest ache. Rhysand stood up straight, switching from brother to the High Lord in a mere second.

“I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” Rhys answered, plucking a piece of lint from his coat. “If my sources are right, I believe you are y/n, sister of Bryaxis.”

“That I am,” the voice answered. “Why are you here? No one ever dares come here.”

Those words might’ve seemed like a threat, but her tone was light, curious.

“We’ve come to beg a boon,” Rhysand answered honestly. “There is another Death God who threatens war. We have been unable to stop his efforts.”

“Nobody has ever asked for my help before,” the voice said back in that same curious tone. “And what of Bryaxis. Will they help as well?”

“Bryaxis…Bryaxis was freed by my High Lady. We have been unable to find them.”

A step in the darkness. Another. Light footsteps came closer and closer to the edge of the cave. Azriel’s heart rate picked up, his hand falling to truth-teller. Cassian’s face was white and he looked ready to flee.

“You are afraid.”

It was not a question. Just a statement. But Rhysand answered it like it was.

“Bryaxis is made of nightmares,” he explained. “Something so terrifying to us. Perhaps you do not see it the same way but I imagine you are much the same and that is why we are…nervous.”

A laugh. A light, lilting laugh. Something sparked in Azriel’s chest.

“Me and Bryaxis are not made of the same thing, but opposite. A balance for our world,” the voice said. “Bryaxis is made of nightmares but I am made of dreams.

“Then why do you hide in the shadows?” The question came out of Azriel’s mouth before he even realized he was speaking. He could see his own shadows now, twirling in the darkness as if they were home.

“When we were captured, Bryaxis caused them fear so they were locked below the earth.” Her voice was sadder now, more serious and Azriel found himself hating that. “But I-I caused them…something different than fear. So they kept me locked in their bed chambers for decades, centuries, until I was able to escape. But then I learned those that did not desire me, feared me instead for the same reason. I was either caged or hunted. That is why I hide here.”

A shiver ran down Azriel’s spine. His face hardened at what she was implying. The fae who had captured the two Gods had locked one beneath the library and had used the other for…He felt sick to his stomach.

“If you are to help us,” Rhysand spoke, “I can promise you that we have no intention of keeping you locked up at all.”

“I do not trust the fae. Bind your words to magic and perhaps I will help you in return.”

“What is it that you want from us?”

It was silent for a moment, as if she were pondering.

“A place to stay. A place to live. Somewhere safe from being hunted or kept as a prisoner. A chance to live in this world, outside of this cave. To get to experience all that you do. That is what I wish for.”

Azriel knew that wish. Knew it all too well. For it was one he had for years while being locked in his father’s dungeon. So maybe that is why he found himself stepping closer to the cave, found himself unafraid of the darkness that had captured his own shadows.

Maybe that was why those words slipped out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions, before he could be held back by one of his brothers.

“I will promise you that, y/n. I will promise you the opportunity to experience life outside of this cage, outside of the darkness.”

He could feel the heavy stares from his brothers on his back but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look anywhere but that darkness, even though he felt so exposed without his shadows.

Another footstep.

And another.

Until a figure began to emerge from the darkness, finally stepping into the light.

Azriel’s breathed hitched, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.

Because before him now stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen. The type of beauty only a Goddess could possess. The type of beauty that had his head spinning, had his heart palpitating in his chest.

She smiled and he felt the whole world pause in that moment. It was a sight that would bring any male to his knees. A sight that could start wars.

She held out a small, delicate hand.

“Then I will help you, shadowsinger,” she said.

He mindlessly took her hand in his, shaking it as the sting of magic burned on both of their skin forming a bargain tattoo on the inner wrist. He looked down at it to see what the magic had created out of their promise to each other.

Swirls of shadows with a small lunar moth emerging at the end. A creature that sought light, finally leaving the darkness.

When he met her eyes again, those beautiful expressive eyes, he stumbled back a step. Stumbled as a golden thread unwound itself in his chest and pierced straight through the universe to the female standing before him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The battle lasted thirty-seven days. Koschei was defeated, the females he had spelled were freed. Beron had been exposed for helping him and was killed by Eris finally, bringing a new leader to Autumn.

And things were finally at peace.

“What are these again?”

Your index finger poked at the spongy thing on your plate. It smelled sweet, good. And it was warm to the touch. You glanced up to see the shadowsinger watching you, amused.

“Those are pancakes,” Azriel answered with a chuckle.

“Pancakes,” you repeated, slowly, testing the word on your tongue. “I thought cakes were desserts. Not breakfast.”

“They are a bit different from cake. Made in a pan instead of baked in the oven, hence the name,” Azriel explained.

You hummed in response, taking a bite out of one of the pancakes. “Hm, just as sweet as cake.”

“I might’ve added a bit more sugar than normal to them,” Azriel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To satisfy that raging sweet tooth of yours.”

Your cheeks heated, that ticklish feeling in your stomach came again. A feeling you had never felt before this month and still had yet to make sense of. It made something in your chest ache when you looked at Azriel.

“You made these?”

Azriel nodded. “Someone slept through breakfast with the others.”

Your cheeks turned even redder.

“You should’ve woken me up,” you muttered before stuffing more bits of pancake into your mouth.

“You deserve to rest, y/n.” Azriel was still watching you with that little glint in his eyes. “After everything, you deserve to rest.”

Since coming to Velaris to help with Koschei, Azriel had been the one to show you around, to help you learn the customs of the fae. He had so much patience for you and your endless amounts of questions.

The others had helped you as well, had welcomed you into their home with open arms, but there was just something special about Azriel. You felt some sort of pull towards him. As if the darkness inside of you called to his.

He was beautiful, more than any God or male you’d ever seen before. And beneath his icy exterior, he was sweet and kind. Thoughtful. Witty.

You enjoyed being with the others but you preferred times like this, when it was just the two of you. He was less shy, more at ease, when it was just you. And something about that made you happy.

Seeing him smile, even when it was just the faintest expression, brought you joy like you’ve never felt before.

And Gods, he brought out so many emotions you had not felt in a very long time, some you hadn’t even known you could feel. You had begun to crave his presence. Desire it. You wondered if he felt the same.

“Did you still want to come with me to the city today?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. That’s right, Azriel had cryptically told you he needed to pick something up from Velaris today. When you had asked him what he was getting, he had refused to answer.

“Yes, I would like to.”

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

An hour later, you found yourself in Azriel’s arms, flying down to the city. Your heart was pounding in your chest at how closely he held you, like he was afraid you’d suddenly fall from his arms. You kept your own arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

You still remembered the few hours after the last battle. The showdown with Koschei had left you depleted, covered in wounds, but otherwise okay. Still, Azriel had burst into your tent with panicked eyes and only seemed to be calmed when you had let him tend to you like a mother hen.

You didn’t know what to make of his behavior. But you did know that being in his arms made you feel safe.

“Can we get more of those honey mooncakes on the way back?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the ticklish feeling in your stomach again.

Azriel laughed, his chest rumbling against your body as he tightened his grip on you. “That sweet tooth of yours really is insatiable.”

“I didn’t get to finish mine from last time,” you said in defense for yourself. “Cassian got to them before me!”

“Well, next time tell Cassian to go get his own,” Azriel said. His breath ghosted against the tip of your ear, causing a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I buy them for you, not him.”

Once again, you found yourself with red cheeks and a swelling heart. Ever since he had discovered your sweet tooth, Azriel had a habit of leaving sweet treats out for you. At first, he found it hilarious that a Death Goddess craved pastries of all things. But now he found it just downright adorable.

When the two of you returned to the House of Wind, you found Feyre and Mor waiting for you. You barely got out a small goodbye to Azriel before they were pulling you away, telling you it was time to start getting ready for the night.

Tonight was Starfall. Something you hadn’t seen in centuries. The girls helped you get ready as day turned to dusk and finally night.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Mor giggled, leading all of you out of the room and up to the main balcony. You could already hear the crowd and the music.

You felt nervous as you reached the top, your eyes instantly darting around to find that one person you were always looking for these days.

Azriel stood with Rhysand and Cassian, dressed in all black, finely tailored pants and a matching coat. He looked handsome, yet still beautifully lethal. The darkness and light bounced off the elegant planes of his face, causing his hazel eyes to glow golden.

When he caught sight of you, those eyes widened and you felt them roam your entire body. You’d always hated being looked at in such a way, but not with Azriel. Never with him.

In fact, you found yourself getting heated under his stare.

Rhysand and Cassian moved to their respective mates, leaving you to greet Azriel alone. He took your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You are stunning,” he whispered. “Absolutely stunning. Happy Starfall.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

Azriel gave you a rare smile that had your heart pounding. You peered at the crowd, watching the faeries enjoying their evening. Azriel stood with you, his fingers brushing against yours in a comforting gesture. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, not when your presence was met with so many stares of both fear and desire.

“What are they doing?” You looked at the crowd of faeries that seemed to all be paired off, moving to the music from the band.

Azriel’s lips twitched, like they always did when you asked him a question like this. “They’re dancing.”

“Dancing,” you repeated. The word sounded familiar, like something you had known in a past life. You had spent so many years in that cave, you had turned into a mere shadow of who you used to be.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel had turned to look down at you, running a hand through his hair. His shadows curled around his wings.

“I don’t think I know how,” you whispered.

He held out his hand to you. “That’s alright. You can follow me lead.”

You bit your lip but decided to take his hand. He had promised you a chance of experiencing the world as it should be. He hadn’t led you astray yet.

He pulled you to the dance floor and you mimicked the other pairs, keeping one hand in his and placing the other on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, yanking you closer to him.

The music started up again and Azriel began to lead you through the dance. It was easier than you thought it would be or perhaps he was just a good lead. Still, it wasn’t long before you were smiling and being twirled around in his arms.

You danced like that for a while, basking in the feeling. The soft music, the laughter, the gentle faelights above you. You had never felt so alive. And it was all thanks to the male who held you in his arms.

A slower song came on, some pairs leaving the dance floor. You looked around in question until you realized the pairs who had remained held a more intimate position. You copied them, placing your arms around Azriel’s neck.

Both of his arms wrapped around you now, resting on your lower back.

“Is this okay?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You nodded, letting him drag you even closer until your bodies were pressed together. The dress you were wearing was thin and you could feel all of him through it. His hard chest, his sculpted muscles.

Azriel swallowed audibly, swaying you gently to the music. You laid your head on his chest, letting him rest his chin on top of your head. Every inch of you that touched him was on fire.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel this, embrace it. You’d never felt like this before. So warm and light. It felt like it was just you and him that existed.

That is until you opened your eyes. You suddenly felt overwhelmed as you noticed lingering stares. A lot of them. You felt uncomfortable under the weight of them.

“What’s wrong?”

Azriel had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you were feeling before you said anything.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He raised his head, looking around with narrowed eyes. That caused most of them to look away, not wanting to risk the shadowsinger’s wrath.

“Come on,” Azriel whispered. “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private.”

He enveloped you in his shadows until you were stepping out of the darkness and into a rounded alcove somewhere else on the balcony. Vines dangled down from the roof, trailing down the pillars holding it up.

You stepped forward, placing your hands against the stone railing. You could see the crowd below, the one you had just been in. Still hear the music and still see the night sky. You turned to face Azriel.

“Thank you,” you said. “I-I just hate it when they stare. Like I’m some weird creature.”

Azriel stalked forward until he was right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“They don’t stare at you because they think you’re weird,” Azriel replied. “They stare at you because you are beautiful.”

His hand rose and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat. Your mouth parted to say something but a roar of cheers cut you off. You whirled around to see thousands and thousands of stars beginning to soar through the sky.

Your mouth dropped open. It was more beautiful than you remembered. The stars kept falling and falling, like cascading fireworks. So bright and breathtaking. You couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your mouth, standing on your tippy toes to lean over the balcony as if you’d be able to reach the stars.

An arm circled your waist and Azriel’s front was pressed against your back as he held onto you.

“Careful,” he whispered in your ear, scared you were going to tip right over the edge and fall down the steep mountain.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, staring up at the stars. “Oh, it’s so much better than I remembered it from all those years ago.”

“It never stops amazing me,” Azriel said. “No matter how many times I watch it.”

You both watched in silence for a little longer, letting the music and laughter and cheers fill the space. Eventually, you turned in his arms, now pressed against the railing.

“Thank you,” you said again, “for bringing me here.”

“Anything for you,” Azriel whispered, raising a hand to rest on your cheek. His eyes were filled with a reverence that stole your breath away.

A brush of magic zipped by in the air and you gasped, raising up your wrist. The tattoo was gone. The bargain had been fulfilled. You had defeated Koschei and Azriel had given you the opportunity to live a life more than you had dreamed. That chance at life was in your hands now.

“The tattoo is gone,” you said, grasping his arm and pulling back his sleeve.

Your eyes widened to see his tattoo still there. The lunar moth emerging from the swirls of shadow.

“Wha—”

“I got it tattooed,” Azriel cut in. “Permanently.”

You glanced up at him in question. “Why?”

“Because I always want a reminder of what I promised you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “What I still promise you, y/n. A life worth living. I want to continue showing you the world, to be there when you experience new things.”

You were speechless. Completely, utterly speechless.

No one had ever shown such devotion to you, such care and love. Your heart swelled up, your chest ached.

“Azriel,” you stuttered out. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “I was trapped in the darkness once too. I know what that’s like and I never want you to fall back into it. I don’t need anything from you, just the chance to be there with you while you learn, while you feel.”

Something was building inside of you, building and building until it was ready to break out. You rubbed at your chest, at the unusual feeling.

“I feel this…I feel this thing inside,” You said, gesturing to your chest. “Do you know what this is? Do you know why I feel this way?”

Azriel grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, in the exact same spot yours ached.

“It is the mating bond,” Azriel answered, softly. “I feel it too. Right here. I have since the day I met you.”

His shadows swirled around like they had been waiting for this. You felt your own darkness rise in response until the two had joined together, watching together from the dark crevices.

“A mating bond,” you repeated.

Something snapped the moment you said it out loud. As if a question you had been asking your whole life had finally been answered. A gold thread was woven between the two of you, a beacon of light in the darkness. A place for that moth to call home.

You gasped looking back up at Azriel. Now that you recognized the bond, it grew more taut. You stumbled closer to him, fisting his coat in your hands.

“A mate,” you whispered. “You're my mate. I..I didn’t even know Gods could have mates.”

“Say it again.” Azriel’s voice was as dark as the shadows. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Huh?”

“Say it. Say that I’m your mate again.”

“You’re my mate,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “My mate.”

A quiet whine came from the back of Azriel’s throat that sent heat between your legs. Your eyes widened. A muscle in his jaw clenched. The air around you was charged and you felt like you had been set on fire.

“And you are mine,” Azriel growled. “My mate.”

His possessive tone only made that heat grow. Your lips parted, a small breath leaving your lungs. His eyes glanced down to your lips, hungrily. You gave him the smallest dip of the head, the permission he was waiting for.

Azriel surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled, your backside hitting the stone railing behind you. You met his vigor with your own.

His lips were soft and warm. And his kiss felt like heaven and hell all mixed in one.

He groaned as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head back to give him more access. You yanked him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. You never craved someone as much as you craved him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him claim your mouth. His scent was intoxicating, he tasted like pure sin. You could drown yourself in him.

Your hands trailed up from his chest to circle around his neck. His own hands were holding you by the waist, pulling your hips into his. They traveled down your thighs until he was lifting you up, seating you on the stone railing, never pulled away from your kiss.

You parted your legs, letting Azriel step even closer as he finally pulled away, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You whimpered at the feeling of his canines grazing the sensitive skin.

His nose traced the column of your throat before he rested his forehead against yours. You were both panting, both completely lost within each other.

“Wait,” Azriel breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I got you something. I don’t want to forget to give it to you.”

Because he would. He would forget his own name as long as the sweet scent of your arousal filled the air. Would forget the whole world existed if you kept staring at him like you were.

He pulled a small black box from his pocket, handing it over to you.

You opened it, gasping at the beautiful ring displayed inside. It was made of gold with a mesmerizing amethyst gem in the shape of a teardrop, accentuated by crescent moons on both sides and tiny stars.

“Azriel,” you breathed out. “This is beautiful.”

A small smile ghosted his lips.

“May I?”

You held out your hand and he pulled the ring out of the box before sliding it onto your ring finger. It was the perfect fit. You admired it, twisting it under the faelights to see the gem glow.

“It’s perfect,” you sighed.

“I had it made just for you,” Azriel said. “It’s what I had to pick up in the city today.”

“I-I really don’t know what to say, Azriel.”

Azriel rested his forehead against yours. “Just say it again. Tell me you feel this too. I’ve been searching for you for over five hundred years now and I just need to hear you say it. Again and again. Until I can wrap my head around it. Until I realize I’m not dreaming.”

You smiled, lifting up to press a small kiss against his lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, at the realization of why exactly the bargain had been fulfilled. You had asked for someplace to be safe, for a home, a chance to live. Azriel was giving you all of that and more.

“You are my mate. And I am yours,” you murmured against his lips. You pulled back to look him in the eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted was to find somewhere to call home. Being with you, being in your arms—that feels like home to me, Azriel. The one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none. Of course there was none. You were falling in love with him.

“Does this mean you want it?”

“It means I want you. I want all of you, everything.”

Azriel smiled and the sight nearly blew you away. You giggled as he held you close to him, buried his face in the crook of your neck. He kissed your throat once, twice.

“Then I think we’re due for a long vacation,” he murmured against your skin.

You knew what he was referring to. The frenzy that would come with this. Just that thought alone caused a tantalizing ache between your thighs.

“I think so too,” you whispered back as Azriel pressed kisses up your neck and jaw.

He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your skin as he stared into your eyes. His gaze was filled with so much promise, so much love. And then he kissed you again and everything felt right in the world. You were home.

[marvelmaniac715]

No but actually I'm insane about how the Master/Missy always interacts with the Doctor. The thing is, I don't think the Master actually knows how to show love, because he was traumatised as a child when he looked into the Time Vortex, and the Academy didn't exactly teach its pupils about compassion, the Doctor was very similar to the Master when he first came to Earth - he had to learn about common decency from Ian and Barbara. The Master was once the Doctor's best friend, back when they were just Theta and Koschei, and he knows he feels strongly about the Doctor but has no clue what to do with those feelings. The Doctor got married, he had kids, in a sense he turned his back on the Master and left for Earth, so the love and loyalty that the Master once felt for him mixed with the heartbreak and betrayal, amplified by the ever-present drums in his head to absolute fury. But still, when he first comes to Earth he does try to communicate with the Doctor, but he can't understand why he's being rejected, he doesn't know what he's done wrong. So he keeps trying, then he stops trying as soon as he regenerates because it's a lost cause, but he never loses his feelings for the Doctor. He probably became more violent as a defence mechanism - lashing out before he can be hurt again. Decades go by, and then he's Professor Yana, and for a brief, shining moment, his relationship with the Doctor is almost functional; they're both happy, they're working together. But it isn't real, because for them, such a peaceful and gentle love could never exist. He never permanently kills the Doctor though, because he can't fathom the concept of a universe where his adversary is dead, and so instead he lays traps and plays mind games, so that the Doctor has to look at him, has to talk to him. Missy tried to be gentle again, as if a new tactic would yield different results, but the previous Master was disgusted with himself for - in his mind - stooping to a new level of desperation when the Doctor would probably never even notice how the Master felt. The Master's love is one of blood and teeth and nails, scratching and maiming, scrambling like a dying man to leave any impact at all on the Doctor. The Timeless Child probably didn't help matters - the Doctor essentially created the Master, and a god does not love their supplicant. They can't communicate with each other because it's been far too long, and they're both broken, the Doctor just hides it better. I just have so many thoughts about these two.

[oristian]

ELUCIEN | GWYNRIEL — MAASVERSE SPOILERS

I tend to see posts and videos from a multitude of people who seem to be reluctant to accept foreshadowing in the ACOTAR books—specifically regarding the endgame couples to finish out the overall series. As this post is simply beating a dead horse down, I find that it is very much needed as a specific group of people lack the capacity to understand the books.

Foreshadowing is not meant to be obvious. There are, of course, cases where it is relatively obvious, but only within the parameters of back-to-back scenes. Foreshadowing is meant to be picked up on, but to be fully understand later on in the story when everything comes to fruition. Examples of foreshadowing include color descriptions, specific use of language, emphasis on certain scenes, emphasis surrounding specific objects, et cetera. If something happens obviously and you can read the scene as-is, it is not foreshadowing.

I see many people who ship Elriel claim that there is buildup across the entire series that foreshadows why they will be endgame. As the books do not support that claim, it is outlandish and a spread of misinformation. Allow me to disprove this theory using the books alone:

— 🌸 ACOTAR: Zero interactions between Elain and Azriel as Azriel had not been introduced as a character yet. This book highlighted Feyre surmising that Elain would thrive within the Spring Court, that her sister enjoyed typical emissary work, and instead introduced Lucien as a character.

— 🦢 ACOMAF: This is the first book where Elain and Azriel met, as is this is where many Elriels like to claim that the Elriel build-up begins. However, this book says otherwise. Elain and Azriel’s first meeting is neutral, quiet conversation to ease a tense situation as Nesta/Feyre/Cassian/Rhys were creating an uncomfortable atmosphere and Elain meant to ease it. This book highlighted how in love Azriel was with Mor and how Elain was engaged to Grayson. Many Elriels also claim that the color of Elain’s dress in this first meeting—being cobalt—is indicative of endgame between she and Azriel. However, cobalt is also the signature color of Grayson’s family crest. Their interactions die out after that first meeting and instead focus on Feysand again. The throne room scene in Hybern also showed the beginning of Elucien and their mate bond, while Azriel was on the floor reaching for Mor. (I go more into this on my Tik Tok page: @oristian)

— 🔥 ACOWAR: When Feyre returns to the Night Court after her month in Spring, she finds that Elain has been within a catatonic state for the entirety of that month and has shown no signs of recovering—that is, until Lucien came along. Elain began eating and moving around once he came and after tugging on the mating bond, her visions first started showing. themselves. Everyone likes to credit Azriel for most of this, but all that Azriel did (take her to the garden) was suggested previously by Lucien. Lucien, who was not able to be alone with her due to Nesta and Feyre. Next, everyone tends to say that Azriel “saw” Elain when he named her power. “What we need is …” Contradicts such a thing. Naming a power does not cure someone of their trauma. Lucien is also canonically the first character to take Elain’s visions seriously and went in search of Vassa, ultimately finding Papa Archeron and creating an even deeper connection into the Koschei plot arc with Elain. This is also where we get the iconic half-step on the stair scene.

Elain is now kidnapped by the cauldron portraying itself as Graysen—Elain wanting so badly to be with her previous lover. This is a scene where many Elriels claim that it is supportive of Elriel being endgame. However, it is within character for Azriel to save someone, especially people close to him. Certainly, Elain being appreciative of being saved and kissing him on the cheek is cute, but that is not enough “foreshadowing” for an endgame. Next, Azriel hands her Truth Teller after Elain refused other weapons. Elain is hesitant and only agrees to take it once Feyre chimes in that she will not have to use it. Juxtapose this with Elain immediately giving it back after the battle is over, not saying a word, and instead falling into conversation with Lucien. Lucien, who is canonically the only character to credit her for assisting with ending the King of Hybern.

— 🌨️ ACOFAS: This is the buffer book that was meant to do two things: Establish Nessian as the next couple for the following book, and establish a clear love triangle between Azriel/Elain/Lucien. Elriels use this book to drive the idea of an Elriel endgame. While this book has scenes between Elain and Azriel, there is unfortunately no foreshadowing present enough to support that claim. This novella emphasizes, from a conversation between Rhys and Feyre, that Azriel may be inclined towards Elain due to her having traits that may remind him of his mother (Freud). We also have Solstice where Lucien brings Elain a gift—a gift that fully reflects her interests—Elain brings Azriel a gift, but Azriel does not bring Elain a gift. Azriel even questioning beforehand if he has to get the sisters a gift at all. Elain’s gift being superficial and more of a joke than anything truly meaningful to them as a relationship.

— 🗡️ ACOSF: The book that ended Elriel. We have this book set up as PRE-BONUS CHAPTER | BONUS CHAPTER | POST BONUS CHAPTER. In the pre-bonus chapter, we have a few scenes between Elain and Azriel that is a glance, or a very small interaction. The infamous scene that Elriels like to use to “prove” that his shadows actually like Elain is the scene where Cassian says that Nesta upset Elain and his shadows seemed poised to strike. His shadows reacted to his anger, not to Elain. Next, the Solstice scene where Azriel refused to be within the room due to the mating bond between Elain and Lucien and Nesta seeing that he was interested in Elain—which is never brought up again, however we do get a scene post bonus chapter of Nesta encouraging Gwyn and Azriel by calling him the “new ribbon.”

The bonus chapter ended Elriel officially as endgame. The chapter is told from Azriel’s POV and documents his lustful thoughts of Elain and how he wants a mate, hurt and confused why his brothers had two of the Archeron sisters and the third was given away to another male. Rhysand even asking Azriel what his plans are after seducing Elain and Azriel having none “past the fantasies he pleasures himself to.” This is also a chapter where Elriels like to claim that Elriel is a forbidden romance. ACOWAR Rhys clearly objects to this being the case. (I have a video on my Tik Tok going over this @oristian) The bonus chapter then moves to Azriel finding Gwyn, his shadows not warning him of her presence at the HoW. His shadows are curious about her and dance with her breath. Azriel then finds out that Elain rejected his necklace—the only Solstice gift that he has gotten her, and one he expressed as “nothing extraordinary”—and the next morning finds him re-gifting such to Gwyn. Azriel can picture her eyes lighting up at the gift and he smiles—this is also where mate language is used to describe the spark in his chest at the thought of her and the glow of the thought. “A thing of secret, lovely beauty.” A line that was used twice—one to describe the necklace, and another time to describe the thought of Gwyn.

Post bonus chapter has zero interactions between Elain and Azriel. The interactions between Azriel and Gwyn are charged and witty. Energetic. This is also where we see Azriel’s siphons glowing darker at the thought of the Valkyries in the Great Rite—the first instance that this has happened.

Next, we go into the last two remaining plot arcs: Koschei and Dusk Court. Both ACOSF and HOFAS have set Nesta up as the driver for the Dusk Court arc, with Azriel as the character to follow. With SJM’s Bloomsbury contract slating her to have two more main books with dual POV romantic interests, the Dusk Court arc book would only make sense having Gwyn and Azriel as the FMC and MMC of that arc. The Koschei arc has been carefully crafted for Elain and Lucien to be the FMC and MMC of that book, with both of them being set up for this since ACOWAR. Elain with her visions of Vassa, the lake, and Koschei’s black box, and Lucien being tied to Papa Archeron and Vassa and the mortals. (I have a video on my Tik Tok that goes more in depth with this @oristian)

— SUMMARY: Elain and Azriel do not have multiple books of foreshadowing, a Gwynriel and Elucien endgame is not fanservice, and the remaining two plot arcs do not support an Elriel endgame. If you have any problems with that, take it up with SJM.