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moonlitstoriess · 1 month ago

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Frosted Hearts-Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Forced into a marriage neither wanted, Y/n (a Hybern Nobel) and Azriel vowed to keep their distance. But as walls crack and truths emerge, they begin to wonder if a union born of duty could become something real.

Warnings: ANGST ANGST AND MORE ANGST, reallyyyyy longgg, smut towards the end, some elain x azriel, mentions of injuries and violence, just an overall mix of everything lmao.

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Azriel stood at the edge of the table, his fists clenched at his sides, the room thick with the weight of silence. The Inner Circle was gathered, all eyes on Rhysand as the High Lord gave one last glance around the room before fixing his gaze on Azriel.

“Azriel,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the tension, calm but firm, “I thought you were smarter than this. You’re the only one without a mate. Everyone else has already found their bond. But we’ve been given an opportunity to secure peace, and I need you to understand this.”

The words barely registered at first. Azriel's mind was a storm, his thoughts consumed with a single image: Elain. The image of her had haunted him for weeks now. The way her smile would light up the room, the way her gentle spirit reached for his own, the warmth she exuded. He had thought...

But it had never been. The bond, the pull that others spoke of, had never shown itself, not with her. She was bonded to Lucien, and Azriel, for all his desire, had no claim.

Still, the bitter taste of that unspoken love clung to his tongue. He swallowed it down as his eyes snapped to Rhysand.

"Peace," Azriel echoed, his voice low, dangerous. "You're asking me to marry someone from Hybern? After everything they've done?" His voice trembled with restrained fury. He could already hear the echoes of war—the bloodshed, the pain, the hatred that simmered beneath the surface of every court, but none more than his own.

Rhysand’s eyes never wavered. "I know it's not easy. But we need this alliance, Azriel. If we want any chance at peace, this is the price. You are the only one who has yet to be bound, the only one who has the power to seal this deal."

Azriel pointed to Mor, who was sitting on one of the couches. "What about her?! She also has no gods damned mate!! Why does it have to be me?!!"

He didn't give a chance for anyone to say anything else before opening his mouth once more.

"You’re asking me to throw away everything I stand for. To sacrifice my pride. To marry into the very court that has been our enemy, that has caused us endless suffering." His voice was dangerously cold, and the room held its breath.

"I know it’s not fair,” Rhys said, his tone a little softer. “But it’s necessary. Azriel, this isn’t just about you. This is about ensuring our people survive. And the new King of Hybern is willing to agree to terms. But only if the marriage goes through. It’s temporary, a means to an end. Once both sides get what they want, then..." Rhys trailed off, a look of finality crossing his face. “Then, we’ll negotiate further. Divorce, if need be.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment, struggling against the deep, primal need to lash out. Every fiber of his being screamed in opposition to this. But then there was that sharp, guttural pain in his chest—the thought of Elain, her soft gaze, and the way he had foolishly imagined a future that could never be.

"You want me to marry someone from Hybern," Azriel said again, but it was more a statement than a question now. His eyes, usually hidden beneath the shadows, were intense, burning with the fury of someone whose heart was being torn in two. "And you want me to do it for peace? For a treaty?"

Rhys’s expression softened, but his voice remained firm. "You are loyal to your people, Azriel. I need you to be loyal to them now, more than ever."

The words were heavy in Azriel's chest, pushing him down, trapping him. He couldn’t look at any of them. Not at Cassian, who had been his brother in arms for so long, not at Feyre, whose gaze was filled with understanding, not at Mor, who seemed to sense the weight of his hesitation. They all knew this wasn’t about politics. It was about something far more personal.

"You’ll do it, Azriel," Rhysand said, his voice unwavering. “I know this is hard, but there’s no other choice. Your loyalty to this court is everything. And you’ll hold up your end, as you always do.”

Azriel wanted to scream, wanted to throw his shadow blades and tear this whole room apart. But instead, he locked eyes with his brother. "And if I don't? What then, Rhys?"

A moment of stillness passed, then Rhys gave a quiet, almost regretful sigh. "If you don’t, you risk everything we’ve built. And I won’t allow that. Not again."

The weight of those words crushed him, and Azriel's chest constricted painfully. The High Lord’s authority loomed over him like an insurmountable mountain, and there was no escaping it. He couldn’t refuse.

"Fine," Azriel spat, his voice raw. "I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to ever forgive you for this."

He heard a gasp come from somewhere in the room but paid no attention to who it was.

"You don’t have to," Rhysand replied, his tone sharp yet understanding. "But you’ll see. This will be for the best. Just trust me on this. Peace is fragile, Azriel. We cannot afford to lose it now."

Azriel nodded stiffly, the words of agreement tasting like ash in his mouth. His gaze shifted to the map sprawled on the table, but all he saw were flashes of the life he would never have. The life he thought he might have had with Elain, the love he had never confessed, now buried beneath the weight of duty.

"Who is it?" Azriel asked through gritted teeth, knowing the answer would crush him further.

Rhys leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking briefly to Cassian before he spoke. "Her name is y/n. A noble of Hybern’s court. Her family holds considerable power."

Azriel’s heart sank. Hybern. The very name twisted his insides. He had fought against them, bled for his people in the wars they waged. The thought of being tied to them—bound by marriage—was unbearable.

But in the end, there was no other choice. Rhys had laid out the terms, and Azriel had no leverage to pull back. The political game had been set. And so, with a sharp, resigned breath, Azriel forced himself to accept what he couldn’t change.

“I’ll do it. But I’m not doing it for Hybern. I’m doing it for you. For this court.” His voice was cold, void of any emotion.

Rhys’s gaze softened ever so slightly. "I know."

Azriel’s mind was a storm of bitterness and uncertainty, but deep down, he knew this was the only path forward. Even as his heart still ached for Elain, for the love that would never be, he forced himself to look at the bigger picture. This was the price for peace. And Azriel would bear it, no matter how much it tore at him inside.

-----

The carriage rumbled over the cobblestone streets of Velaris, but Y/N’s mind was a whirlwind, the sights and sounds of the city falling into a distant blur. She barely even noticed the glow of the lanterns lighting the streets or the way the city seemed to pulse with energy. All she could think about was the weight of the day ahead—the wedding, the marriage that had been forced upon her.

She had never once dreamed of this day. No, she had only ever dreamed of freedom. A life away from her father’s suffocating grip, away from the oppressive cruelty of Hybern’s court. But when the King of Hybern had made his announcement, that dream shattered. The words still echoed in her mind: "This marriage is your duty. It is for the good of the realm, for the future of Hybern. You will do your part." And her father, cold as ever, had simply agreed.

Her father. The man who had never once cared to listen to her, to understand her, who had always seen her as a means to an end. How many times had she pleaded with him to let her choose her own path? To let her make her own decisions? How many times had he silenced her with that patronizing smile and a cold word or two? He was no different from the King of Hybern, who had made this decision for her with no care for her opinion. She had been nothing more than a bargaining chip, an object to secure an alliance between two powerful courts.

The alliance with the Night Court.

Her stomach churned. She could feel the hatred rising in her chest as her mind wandered to him—the one she was about to marry. Azriel. The name alone made her skin crawl. She hated him. She hated his people. She hated everything they represented.

As someone from Hybern, she had been raised to view the other courts as the enemy. To despise them. To see their lands as the threat that had nearly destroyed her home, her family, her life. And Azriel… he was one of them. A member of the Night Court, the very court that had joined forces with the others to overthrow Hybern’s rule. He was a reminder of the battle that had torn her world apart, of the war that had left her with nothing but bitterness and a deep sense of betrayal.

Her heart pounded as the city stretched out before her. The streets of Velaris, with their beauty and elegance, felt like a mockery to her—another reminder of the life she would never have, a life she could never choose for herself. This wasn’t where she belonged. It wasn’t her world. She was being forced into a marriage with a man she loathed, a man who would never look at her with anything but disdain.

Why should she care? Why should she feel anything but anger? She had no reason to soften, no reason to accept this union as anything more than a political necessity. This marriage was about securing peace, about saving her people, and she would do her duty—if only because she had no other choice.

"Remember your place," her mother’s voice cut through her dark thoughts, as sharp and cold as always. "This marriage is for Hybern. For your family. Don’t forget that."

Y/n turned her gaze toward her mother, her face betraying nothing. She had long since stopped trying to earn her mother’s approval. Her mother had made it clear that affection was a weakness. Power was what mattered. And right now, that meant this marriage, this alliance.

The carriage came to a stop, and y/n’s stomach tightened even more. She was here. She was in Velaris, about to meet her future—her future with a man she couldn’t stand, in a city she didn’t belong to. The door swung open, and a servant stepped forward to assist her. She stepped out of the carriage, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar streets, taking in the sights, the smells, the people.

Everything felt so alien, so out of place. How could she stand here, knowing what was to come?

Her thoughts were interrupted as her mother’s sharp tone reached her again. "Come along, y/n. We must get you prepared. The sooner this is over, the better."

Her heart hardened, and she gave one last glance to the city before allowing herself to be ushered inside. There was no turning back now.

As she was led to the chambers where she would be dressed for her wedding, her mind remained fixed on one thing: Azriel. Her future husband, the male she would have to pretend to tolerate. A male who, like her, was a prisoner to the game of politics. And yet, that didn’t stop the rage that bubbled within her. She had to marry him, yes, but it didn’t mean she had to like him. She could be cold, distant, and bitter—and she would. After all, it was the only armor she had left.

The chambers they led her to were grand—opulent, even. The room smelled faintly of roses, a scent that would have once been comforting, but now only made her stomach twist in irritation. This was all too much. The fine silks, the elegant mirrors, the soft lighting—it felt like a cruel mockery of everything she had lost.

"Sit," a servant instructed her, guiding her to a large velvet chair. The disdain these people felt for her was palpable. Y/n obeyed without protest, though every fiber of her being screamed to run. To escape this whole situation. But she was not a child anymore. She had no more room to fight. Not in this.

Her mother stood off to the side, watching with a sharp gaze that never left her. "Do this right," she said coldly, "and remember why this is happening. This is your chance to bring honor to our family."

Y/n clenched her fists in her lap, biting back the words she so desperately wanted to scream. She would bring honor to no one, not for this. She wasn’t doing this for her family, or for Hybern. She was doing it because she had no choice. She hated the way her mother’s eyes gleamed with the certainty that this was all for the greater good. It was never about what y/n wanted. It was never about her.

The servants worked in silence, pulling the dress over her head and adjusting the delicate lace at the shoulders. It was beautiful—silk so fine it felt like water, ivory with subtle gold embroidery—and utterly suffocating. Every layer seemed to add more weight to her chest. She barely breathed as they fastened the gown and placed the veil over her hair. The look was regal, but it felt foreign on her. Like she was playing a role that didn’t fit.

“Don’t look so miserable,” her mother muttered, her voice bitter. “Smile at your future husband. This is your duty, and it will make you valuable. That’s all that matters in this world.”

Y/N fought the tears that threatened to spill. Her mother had never been kind, but this was the worst she had ever been. She had no room for sympathy, no space to feel anything but the weight of this arrangement. The day was about securing an alliance, a peace that would serve Hybern’s interests above all. It didn’t matter if she was happy. It didn’t matter if she was terrified. It didn’t matter if she was about to marry a man she couldn’t stand, a man who represented everything she hated.

"Isn’t that enough, Mother?" she muttered bitterly, her voice barely audible.

Her mother’s gaze flicked over her, sharp and calculating. “Do not think that you can win the affection of your husband. He does not care for you, y/n. And you should not care for him. If you do, it will be your downfall.”

Her words stung, but y/n didn’t allow herself to show it. What was the point? Her mother was right in one regard—this marriage wasn’t about love. It wasn’t even about friendship. It was about survival. Political survival. For Hybern, and for herself.

The weight of that reality pressed down on her once more as a servant carefully adjusted her veil. Everything felt far too delicate, too perfect—too much of a lie.

As they finished preparing her, y/n's’s thoughts wandered again to Azriel. She could feel the resentment building within her, a solid block of ice. The thought of him made her insides twist. A warrior. A spy. Cold and distant, just as his people were. Just as the Night Court had been. She had no affection for him. There was nothing between them, and there never would be.

His name echoed in her mind—Azriel. Her husband. The one who was not even there today, the one who had no interest in her. She couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same coldness, the same anger that churned in her chest.

But, then again, she didn’t care. Not really. She had no illusions about this marriage. The idea that he might be anything more than an obstacle in her path was laughable. This would be a cold union, one built on necessity, not love.

The door to the chambers opened once more with a soft creak, and her mother stepped forward, her eyes narrowing at her daughter. “Time to go, let us get this over with.” she said, her tone cold as ice.

Y/N took a deep breath, standing slowly, the weight of the gown pulling at her every step. Her heart hammered in her chest as she walked toward the door, the finality of what was about to happen closing in on her.

As they exited the chambers and made their way toward the venue, the sounds of the city faded once more. Velaris. The city of stars. She could see the grand procession ahead, and as the large doors of the venue opened before her, a rush of voices filled the air. The audience, the people waiting for this to happen, the ones who were so excited for the union. They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what she felt.

Her chest tightened with every step.

She had no choice in this, and that made it worse.

But once she entered the venue, the grand hall before her, her gaze flicked to the front of the room, where Azriel stood, tall and unmoving. Her future. Her marriage.

And she loathed every single part of it.

------

Azriel’s jaw was tight as he stood at the altar, trying to contain the fury boiling within him. His brothers flanked him—Rhysand, his High Lord, standing on his left, and Cassian on his right. They both tried to speak in hushed tones, but Azriel barely heard them, his focus narrowed on the heavy silence that pressed down on him like an unseen weight. The quiet mutterings of the guests around them faded, but the tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to make his wings twitch with unease.

“Az, calm down,” Rhysand murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “This is just for politics. You know what’s at stake here. We need this alliance.”

“I don’t care about alliances,” Azriel muttered under his breath, his gaze hard as he stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. His teeth ground together, the words of his bride-to-be echoing in his mind—“We’re both stuck in this. It’s not my choice either.”

Cassian leaned in, trying to catch Azriel’s gaze. “Listen, I know you’re angry. But this is the best path forward for everyone. You have no idea how much this will help us.”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. They don’t understand, he thought, his eyes flicking briefly toward the grand doors of the hall. The moment this marriage had been announced, he had felt as if the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. An arranged marriage with a stranger. A stranger from Hybern, no less. The kingdom he’d fought against, the same land that had caused so much suffering.

His fists clenched at his sides, and he resisted the urge to spread his wings, to take flight and leave it all behind. His thoughts were still consumed with Elain. His heart was still with her, even as his mind screamed at him to focus on what was in front of him.

Suddenly, the doors creaked open, and Azriel’s heart skipped a beat.

Y/N entered, her movements slow but purposeful, her posture regal yet somehow burdened. The long aisle stretched before her, and Azriel took a moment to study her, trying to push aside the bitterness gnawing at his insides. She was beautiful, no question about it. Atleast the slightly see-through veil suggested that. But there was something about the way she walked—something heavy in her gaze—that suggested a kind of sorrow he couldn’t ignore.

He felt her presence as she approached, like an invisible pull, yet his mind couldn’t seem to focus entirely on her. His chest tightened as she got closer, her figure framed by the soft glow of the candles lining the aisle. She was delicate, yet strong, the fabric of her gown brushing the floor with every step. Her features were soft, but her expression was unreadable, her eyes set straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. Azriel couldn’t help but notice the faint lines beneath her eyes, the subtle exhaustion that seemed to cling to her.

She looks nothing like Elain, he thought bitterly, his heart twisting in his chest.

When she reached him, standing by his side, the tension between them was thick enough to cut through with a knife. Rhysand gave him a pointed look, and Cassian nudged his shoulder, but Azriel remained unmoving. The ceremony dragged on in a haze. The words were distant, like an echo in his mind, meaningless and empty. Every word, every vow spoken felt like an iron chain tightening around his chest.

And then it was time.

The veil.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as the priestess gestured toward y/n, signaling that it was time for him to lift the veil. His fingers trembled slightly, his mind racing. The act felt too intimate, too personal for a woman he barely knew. But he did as required, his hands gentle but firm as he lifted the veil from her face.

Her features were more beautiful than he’d expected, her delicate bone structure and full lips something to admire. Her eyes, though—those haunted eyes—held a world of stories he could only guess at. She met his gaze for a fleeting moment, and it almost felt like she was searching for something in him, something that would reassure her. But he was too lost in his own thoughts, too consumed by the presence of Elain in his mind.

He forced himself to meet her gaze again, this time with more intent, and his heart twisted in his chest. What do I even see in her? The thought was fleeting, almost absurd, but there it was, gnawing at him like a bitter ache.

As the priestess finished, the moment arrived. The kiss. His gaze flickered to Elain, sitting in the front alongside her sisters, her face pale, her eyes filled with quiet sorrow. The soft curve of her mouth, the sadness in her expression—it was all too much for him. His heart pounded, the weight of the kiss pressing down on him as he slowly turned back to y/n.

She waited, her eyes still distant, her lips slightly parted in expectation. Azriel couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and frustration.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. He couldn’t—He couldn’t kiss her with his heart still tied to Elain.

So, instead of pressing his lips to hers, he leaned forward and placed a quick, cold kiss on her cheek. His mouth lingered for only a moment, and he felt her stiffen, but there was nothing else. The spark that he had hoped for didn’t come, and the hollow emptiness in his chest only deepened.

The ceremony was over. The weight of what he had just done—what he had just agreed to—hung heavy in the air.

This is not what I want.

----------

The ballroom was a sea of silk and jewels, a mixture of laughter and hushed conversation swirling through the air like a melody that grated against her nerves. It was meant to be a celebration, but all y/n could feel was the weight of the night pressing against her chest, suffocating her with each passing second.

She sat at the table, her hands folded delicately in her lap, eyes darting from one person to the next, trying to ignore the awkward silence that hovered between her and her new husband. Azriel sat across from her, his dark gaze scanning the room, occasionally landing on the various important figures in attendance, but y/n couldn’t help but notice how often his eyes strayed toward the back of the room, where a specific female stood with her family.

The sight of her made something sharp twist in y/n's chest, but she quickly pushed it away, focusing on the table in front of her, pretending she couldn’t care less.

It wasn’t that she hated Azriel—it was that she didn’t know him. And that lack of connection, that strange void between them, made the air thick and suffocating. She had never wanted this marriage. She had never wanted to be here in this alien city, surrounded by people who treated her like she was nothing more than a political pawn. But her family had made it clear—this union was for the good of Hybern, for the future of their lands.

And here I am, she thought bitterly, a trophy for a king’s game.

Across the room, Rhysand and her father stood deep in conversation, along with other key players from various courts. The laughter of her mother rang in the air, loud and unrestrained, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter was not only married to a stranger but a stranger she loathed.

Y/n let out a slow breath. The only thing keeping her tethered to this wretched night was the fact that it would soon be over. She’d play her part, show her obedience, and then leave for Hybern with her family. She’d never have to see this place again.

Her gaze flicked back to Azriel, who hadn’t spoken a word to her all night, his attention still fixed on his surroundings. She was sure he hadn’t even noticed her—hell, he probably didn’t care. He didn’t need to care. She was nothing to him.

His gaze flickered again, this time lingering for an uncomfortable moment on that beautiful female, who was laughing softly with a group of friends. Y/n clenched her jaw.

His eyes lingered on her for too long.

She leaned forward, a flash of sarcasm lacing her voice. “Any mistresses I should know about?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Azriel didn’t flinch at her words. He simply raised an eyebrow and slowly turned his head toward her, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice low and measured, as if the question didn’t even warrant his full attention.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to be spending an awful lot of time looking at her. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, though the sting of jealousy in her chest was something she refused to acknowledge.

Azriel’s gaze hardened for a moment, before his lips quirked into a barely-there smirk. “You’re paranoid.”

“Am I?” Y/n’s voice was sweetly venomous. “You’re making it hard not to be. I don’t know—maybe it’s just the way you look at her. A little too... familiar.”

His eyes flicked to her, momentarily narrowing, and for a moment, it almost looked like he was about to respond. But then his gaze slid away, scanning the room once more, seemingly uninterested in the conversation.

Y/n’s chest tightened. She wasn’t sure if the reaction stung more because of how indifferent he was to her or because of how right she had been.

A beat of silence passed between them, the music and laughter from the other guests growing louder in the background. But it was as though they were in a vacuum, isolated in their own bitter little world.

Azriel finally leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You wouldn’t know anything about what I do or who I look at. But I’m sure you’ll be fine with it. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than what I do.”

The words were soft, but they hit her like a slap.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, but she didn’t let it show. She maintained her icy composure, the mask of indifference firmly in place. Don’t show him it hurts, she reminded herself.

With a quick inhale, she forced a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. You’re right. Why would I care?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered over her face, the hint of satisfaction lingering in his gaze, before he straightened up in his seat, seemingly satisfied with the exchange.

But y/n wasn’t done. She wasn’t about to let him think he’d won. Her voice was light, though the edge of bitterness was unmistakable. “Besides,” she added, glancing toward the door where her mother was speaking to her father, “I’m sure we’ll both find a way to keep ourselves entertained, won’t we?”

Azriel didn’t respond right away. His jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something in his eyes—a flicker of regret or perhaps something else entirely—but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

His attention shifted once more, and she knew he was back to his familiar indifference. Nothing new there, she thought bitterly.

As the night dragged on, the cold silence between them continued to settle over their table, only punctuated by the occasional sound of laughter or polite conversation. Y/n’s thoughts were still spinning, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of distance that loomed between them, both of them trapped in their roles, pretending they didn’t mind the inevitable.

Eventually, the night ended with little fanfare, and the room began to empty, guests trickling out one by one. But for y/n, the bitter taste of the evening lingered.

Her marriage, so far, had been nothing more than a hollow agreement. And nothing Azriel did—or didn’t do—was going to change that.

The house, the one Rhysand had gifted them, loomed large and grand, every corner gleaming with wealth and status. The grand chandelier hanging above them reflected the dim candlelight, casting shadows that felt like a warning. As they stepped inside, Y/N’s eyes scanned the space, noting the pristine perfection of their new home. She was supposed to feel some sense of pride, some excitement. But all she felt was suffocated, like she was drowning in a sea of expectations and lies.

The door clicked shut behind them, the sound so final it made her chest tighten.

Azriel was already walking toward the center of the room, his eyes flicking over the ornate furniture with the same disinterest he’d shown the entire night. The coldness between them, built on a foundation of mutual disdain, settled heavier in the air than anything else.

Y/n lingered in the doorway, her hands clasped together in front of her, unsure of what to do, how to react. Her wedding gown, so carefully crafted, felt like a prison around her. It was beautiful, intricate, but it was also a reminder of how far she had fallen, how deeply trapped she was in this life.

Azriel turned, his back to her now, as if he couldn’t care less.

But then, a sound from him—a low, deliberate sigh—snapped her attention to him.

He finally spoke, his voice colder than the night air outside. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, not bothering to look at her, his tone clipped. “This is a political marriage. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. And we both know it. So, don’t try to play any games or pretend that we’re anything more than this.”

Y/n stood frozen, her heart sinking with every word. “You think I don’t know that?” she replied, her voice icy, matching his. “I’m not here because I want to be. But I also don’t need a lecture on the obvious.”

Azriel didn’t flinch at her words, his back still turned to her. “Good. Then we’re clear. This union is for show. We present ourselves as a united, happy couple in public. But behind closed doors, you do whatever you want. I do whatever I want. We keep this civil—nothing more, nothing less.”

Y/n’s chest tightened. She didn’t want to think about him being with someone else, didn’t want to think about the reality of their arrangement. But her anger flickered, and she let it out with a bitter laugh. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I already knew that much. You don’t have to tell me how little I matter to you. It’s obvious.”

Azriel turned then, his gaze sharp and calculating. The shadows in his eyes deepened, giving him a dangerous look. His jaw tightened, his voice dropping an octave. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Y/n’s eyes met his, and for a moment, she saw something in them—a flicker of something raw. But it was gone before she could understand it.

“Fine,” she said, her voice low. “I get it. Just… don’t think I’m going to pretend this is anything more than what it is.”

Azriel’s lips twisted into a half-smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Neither am I.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his boots echoing in the silence that followed.

Y/n stayed where she was, watching him walk away, a cold chill creeping over her skin. For a long moment, she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The weight of what had just transpired—the realization of how empty and hollow this marriage was—settled in her chest like a stone.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she took in a deep breath. The gown she wore felt suffocating now, the layers of fabric a painful reminder of the reality she had been thrust into.

She had known this wouldn’t be easy. She had known it would be cold and ruthless, but this—this level of isolation—hadn’t really hit her until now.

Azriel had left her standing in the hallway of their new home, alone with her thoughts. The grand mansion around her suddenly felt more like a gilded cage, and the silence of the night pressed down on her with an almost suffocating force.

Her fingers brushed the delicate lace of her gown, and she swallowed the knot in her throat.

This was it. This was her life now.

It wasn’t just a marriage. It was a trap. A game she had no choice but to play, and no matter how much she hated it, she would have to live it.

She turned toward the stairs, her gaze lingering one last time on the darkened hallway ahead.

It was then that the full weight of the situation settled in. She wasn’t just married to a stranger—she was bound to him in a way that no amount of anger could break.

And as she made her way to her room, the realization slowly crushed her under its weight: This would be hell.

---------

It had been a week since the wedding.

One week, and nothing had changed.

There was no warmth between them, no attempts to make this political arrangement bearable. If anything, the silence between them was thicker now, colder. Azriel couldn’t even bring himself to look at her for too long. Every time their paths crossed, he averted his gaze, unwilling to engage.

They hadn’t eaten together once, not a single meal. They were simply two bodies coexisting in the same house, but their lives were on separate tracks. She stayed in her quarters, and he in his. There was no need to speak, no reason to acknowledge each other. They both understood that.

There had been no words about the marriage, about the bond they were supposedly meant to share. No apologies, no pleasantries. Just cold indifference. Azriel hadn’t made the effort to ask how she was doing, and he had no intention of doing so. He didn’t care. He couldn’t.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, though. Why, in the back of his mind, something seemed to twist whenever he thought of her. Maybe it was because she was a reminder of everything he loathed—everything that made him feel trapped. But that didn’t change the fact that this wasn’t what he wanted.

It was easier this way. Easier to pretend she didn’t exist.

The days had been long, every minute spent avoiding his new wife. He still couldn't fathom how he'd gotten to this point. How he'd ended up in this forced marriage, trapped in an arrangement he hadn’t chosen. But what could he do? He had no choice. Neither of them did.

As he brooded in the garden, lost in his thoughts, a soft, familiar voice broke through his reverie.

"Azriel," Elain said gently, the sound of her footsteps approaching him.

He didn’t look up at first. He could feel her presence—warm, steady, and completely opposite of everything he felt. But Elain didn’t mind. She never did. She never pushed him for more than he was willing to give.

“I thought you might be out here,” she continued, her voice soft, but there was something in it—concern, maybe, or the hint of something deeper, something Azriel couldn’t quite place.

He finally turned his head, looking up at her. Her brown hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes were filled with that ever-present sadness, the one she never let go of. Azriel hated it, hated that she was so full of quiet pain, but it was something he couldn’t fix. Not that he ever had the right to. He wasn’t that person anymore.

“You’re still upset about the wedding?” he asked, his voice more strained than he intended.

Elain sat beside him on the bench, her delicate fingers brushing against his arm in a familiar gesture. There was no hesitation, no need for words between them—they understood each other in a way no one else could. But there was something else in her touch today. A softness that felt almost too intimate, too raw.

“No,” she replied after a pause. Her eyes were sad, but she was trying to smile, trying to hide it. “It’s just... everything. It’s hard to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.” She glanced at him, her gaze lingering for a moment before she looked away, her hands clasping together in her lap.

Azriel swallowed, the knot in his stomach tightening. He knew exactly what she meant. She had her own burdens to carry, her own emotional chains to bear. But right now, there was something more pressing.

“Have you seen her?” Elain’s voice broke the silence between them, as though she could read his mind.

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he avoided looking at her. "Who?" he asked, his tone clipped. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.

“Your wife,” Elain said quietly, the words dripping with the faintest edge of something Azriel couldn’t quite place. A stab of something too deep to decipher.

He felt his heart lurch. His mind drifted to the cold, empty halls of the estate. To her—y/n—always staying in her rooms, always keeping her distance.

"No," he replied flatly, his voice colder than he intended. "I haven't seen her. I don’t... need to."

Elain’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. “You can’t pretend she doesn’t exist, Azriel. You’re married to her. You need to at least try.”

Azriel turned to face her now, his anger bubbling up, but he bit it back. “I don’t owe her anything, Elain. This marriage is nothing. It’s a political arrangement, nothing more. There’s no pretending it’s something else."

His voice was tight, and he could feel the tension in his chest, the gnawing emptiness that only seemed to grow whenever he thought about her. Y/n. His wife. The one he couldn’t even bring himself to look at for too long.

“You don’t owe her anything, but she’s still your wife,” Elain said softly, her words more resigned than accusing. “And that’s something, whether you like it or not.”

Azriel didn’t respond at first, his gaze turning once again to the flowers in the garden. The peace in the air was deceiving. He hated it. The fact that everything around him seemed so serene while everything inside him was falling apart.

“Why are you here, Elain?” he asked quietly, not unkindly.

She met his gaze, her eyes soft. “Because you need someone, Azriel. And I... I don’t want you to be alone. I never want that for you.”

Her words hung in the air like a heavy weight. Azriel didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he even deserved her kindness, but it felt good to hear it.

Before he could speak again, a gust of wind blew through the garden, rustling the leaves and carrying the faintest scent of saltwater from the distant ocean. It was a fleeting moment of calm, and then he felt the gentle pressure of Elain’s hand on his arm once more, reminding him that she was still there, still offering something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He could have spoken. He could have said that instead of y/n, it should have been Elain who walked down the aisle towards him. How she is the only one whom he will ever feel this way for. But for some reason, there was a tiny voice in his mind that just didn't allow him to.

So, instead of responding, he remained silent, lost in the quiet chaos of his thoughts. The flowers bloomed around him, and yet everything felt frozen, as if even the seasons were trapped in time. Just like him.

--------

Y/n sat by the window, staring out at the vast expanse of the estate's gardens below. The flowers swayed gently in the wind, their colors a sharp contrast to the grayness that had settled over her heart. She wasn’t sure how many days it had been since the wedding, but each one felt the same. Empty. Unchanging.

Her fingers traced the edge of the windowsill, the cool stone grounding her as she tried to steady herself. She had been given this life, this title, this... marriage. But it had never been what she expected.

The sounds of the estate—footsteps in the halls, distant voices, the occasional laughter—were muffled to her ears. Everything felt distant, as though she were watching her life from behind a thick pane of glass. She had tried to reach out, tried to break the silence with Azriel, but he never acknowledged her, never let her in. They had been strangers before the wedding, and now... now, she didn’t even know what to call their relationship.

Y/n didn’t know how much longer she could pretend. She wasn’t just some political pawn. She had her own life, her own dreams before this. But those felt like a distant memory now, swallowed up by the reality of her new world.

She leaned her forehead against the cold glass, watching the sun set slowly over the horizon. The light dimmed, the world outside growing darker with every passing second. It felt... fitting.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Y/n didn't move at first. She didn’t need to answer. She already knew who it was. They’d all come to check on her once or twice, as if her silence was something to be fixed. But she wasn’t broken.

Another knock, more insistent this time, pulled her from her reverie. With a resigned sigh, she stood and crossed the room, opening the door just wide enough to see the person standing on the other side.

It was Nesta.

She stood there, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and unreadable. The tension in the air was thick, but it wasn’t just from Nesta’s presence. It was the weight of the expectations—expectations that Y/n didn’t care to meet. Not anymore.

"I thought I'd find you here," Nesta said, her tone a little colder than Y/n expected, though there was a sharpness to it that was unmistakable. She didn’t wait for an invitation before stepping inside.

Y/n barely moved as Nesta brushed past her and into the room. She closed the door quietly behind them, leaning against it as her eyes studied the woman before her.

"I’m not locked away," Y/n said flatly, her voice distant, though the words felt empty as soon as they left her mouth. She wasn’t lying, but at the same time, she wasn’t being entirely truthful. She was locked away—locked away by her own choices, by the distance that had grown between her and everything else in this house. Including Azriel.

Nesta didn’t bother with pleasantries. "Cassian sent me," she said bluntly. "He’s concerned because he hasn’t seen you leave this room in days. We barely see your face around here. You and that new husband of yours seem to be avoiding our gatherings."

Y/n’s eyes flickered to the floor, the words landing with a dull thud. She wasn’t sure what she expected—maybe a little more empathy, or at least a hint of warmth. But this was Nesta. Cold, direct, and unyielding. Just like everyone else in this court.

"Tell Cassian I’m fine," Y/n replied, her voice losing even more of its life with each passing second. "I’m just... adjusting."

"Adjusting?" Nesta scoffed, her tone turning more biting. "You’re barely even talking to anyone. It’s been a week since the wedding, and you’ve barely left this room." She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied Y/n’s face. "You’re not adjusting. You’re hiding."

Y/n didn’t flinch at Nesta’s words. She had heard it before, from Azriel and from the rest of the family. They couldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand. How could they? They were all in different worlds, living different lives.

"I’m not hiding," Y/n repeated, her voice taking on a sharp edge. "I just don’t see the point in pretending things are fine when they aren’t."

Nesta seemed to take a moment before responding. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. "You’re right. Things aren’t fine. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay stuck in this... this misery. Azriel’s not going to change overnight. None of us expect that from him. But you can change. You can stop hiding."

Y/n’s eyes flicked to the ground, her jaw tight, and her heart twisted in a way she didn’t want to examine. "What do you want me to do? Go back to the life I had before? Pretend everything’s fine? Pretend I’m not married to a man who won’t even look at me?"

Nesta didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, she simply crossed her arms and regarded her with a steady gaze. "No. I’m not asking you to pretend. But hiding away like this won’t fix anything, y/n. Cassian wants you to stop isolating yourself. I think you need it, too."

Y/n’s gaze flickered over to Nesta, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You don’t understand," she muttered.

Nesta turned on her heel to leave, but before she did, she spoke again. "Don’t hide forever, y/n. You might not be able to change everything, but you can change this."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Y/n alone in the stillness of the room once more.

The silence closed in again, more suffocating than before. Y/n leaned her back against the door, her thoughts spiraling as the weight of Nesta’s words sank in. Maybe she was hiding. Maybe she was running from the life she had been given. But what choice did she have? What else was there for her in this house, in this life?

As she stood there, the darkness outside pressing in on the walls of the room, she knew Nesta was right about one thing—she couldn’t keep disappearing. But that didn’t mean she had any idea of how to stop.

-------

Two weeks into this miserable excuse of a marriage, and Azriel was still no closer to understanding how to make it work. The silence between him and y/n was deafening. Every word he tried to say felt like it would only widen the gap between them, and each glance he shot her way was met with nothing but cold indifference. She kept her distance, and he made sure to do the same.

Yet, in the quiet moments when he lay awake at night, his mind wandered to thoughts he couldn’t control. Thoughts of Elain. Of his real bond, the one that mattered. He had promised himself that he’d never let anything or anyone get in the way of that, especially not a woman he barely knew, one he had been forced into this union with.

But still... there were moments when something stirred in him, a fleeting feeling, a hesitation he could never quite place.

As he passed the dining hall, he heard the soft clink of silverware against china. His gaze flicked toward the open door, and he froze when he saw her. Y/n. Sitting at the table, alone.

It was always like this now. Y/n had taken to eating alone, isolating herself more and more. It wasn’t the kind of thing Azriel was used to—seeing anyone, especially someone he was bound to, so entirely separate from the rest of the world. But in that moment, as she sat there in solitude, his irritation boiled over.

She didn’t even look up when he entered the room, as if she had known he’d be here. Her gaze remained fixed on the food in front of her, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows on her features. She might as well have been a ghost in the room.

"Is this how it’s going to be?" he asked, his voice sharp, his patience wearing thin.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, Azriel wondered if she even cared enough to acknowledge him. Finally, her eyes slid up to meet his, the coldness in them matching his own.

"Is what how it’s going to be?" she asked, her tone just as frosty, but there was a sharpness to it that was impossible to ignore.

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh, his wings twitching behind him as he stepped further into the room. "You’re avoiding everyone. I mean, I did say we don't need to acknowledge each other but not my fucking family too! You don’t even bother to show up for dinner with the others. What is this, Y/n? Is this some form of... rebellion?" His words were laced with more anger than he had intended, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was the silence, the tension, or something deeper gnawing at him.

She picked up her glass of wine and took a slow sip, as though he hadn’t even spoken. "Maybe I just enjoy my own company more than yours," she said dryly, setting the glass down without taking her eyes off him.

The words stung, though Azriel would never admit it. His jaw tightened, but for some reason, he didn’t leave. He didn’t turn away like he normally would. Something about the solitude in the room, the quiet, was oddly compelling. He should walk away. Go back to his responsibilities. Back to Elain.

But he didn’t.

"Fine," he muttered, pulling out a chair across from her. "I’ll stay for dinner. Don’t get used to it."

Y/n didn’t seem to care either way. She simply resumed cutting her food, the silence between them once again stretching thick and heavy.

As they ate, the conversation remained stiff at first, barely anything beyond a few biting remarks and cold stares. Azriel kept his focus on his plate, only offering brief glances at y/n. Her presence, though distant, seemed to wrap itself around him in ways he couldn’t escape.

"You know," she said, breaking the silence at last, "you don’t have to stay, Azriel. It’s not like you care to be here."

The words were blunt, but there was a certain weariness behind them that made Azriel pause. He looked up sharply, ready to snap back, but found something different in her eyes. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t contempt. It was... exhaustion.

"What’s your point?" he asked, his voice low, though his anger was fading, replaced by something else—something he didn’t want to examine.

Her gaze softened for just a moment. "You’re here because you feel obligated. We both know it. So why don’t we just call it what it is and stop pretending?"

Azriel’s stomach twisted. He looked away, unwilling to confront the raw truth she was offering. "I’m not pretending," he bit out. "I don’t have time for games."

"No," she agreed, her tone quiet but cutting. "You don’t. Neither of us do."

The conversation slipped into an uneasy silence, one that felt far less hostile than the ones before. They both ate in a strange truce, their proximity and shared space creating a tension that neither of them knew how to deal with.

Azriel’s mind drifted—back to Elain. To the bond he shared with her, the one that was real. Yet, even as the thought settled in, a small, almost imperceptible crack appeared in his carefully constructed wall. Y/n’s presence, her voice, even her sharpness had gotten under his skin in a way he didn’t want to admit.

And just as quickly as it had softened, the moment was over.

"Enough," Azriel said, standing up abruptly and pushing his chair back. "This was a mistake."

Y/n didn’t even flinch, her eyes already closed as if she’d anticipated his reaction. "Yes. It was."

Azriel’s wings twitched as he moved to leave the room, but as he passed the door, he hesitated. He couldn’t quite explain why, but the brief, fragile moment they’d shared had lodged itself in his mind, and for the first time in weeks, his thoughts of Elain became... blurred.

It wasn’t enough to change anything. But it was something.

-------

Y/n stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection as she adjusted the neckline of the dress. Three weeks into this marriage, and it still felt like she was wearing someone else’s life. The faint scent of lavender in the room did nothing to calm her racing thoughts.

She hated this. Hated the constant pretending. Hated that she was walking into Rhysand and Feyre’s home tonight as though everything was fine, as though she was part of their world. She was no more than a pawn in a game she hadn’t signed up for. A foreigner trapped in a world she didn't understand.

The Hybern enemies were now her supposed allies. Her chest tightened at the thought. How hilarious. How utterly fucking ridiculous.

Y/n smoothed the fabric down, unable to shake the weight of the mask she had to wear for the evening. Her life—her past—felt like a distant memory now. She was a stranger in her own skin, wearing the title of wife with no meaning behind it. Azriel, the man she was wed to, never looked at her. Never spoke to her unless absolutely necessary.

Her eyes flickered to the door. She didn’t want to be here, but it was too late to back out now.

The carriage ride to Rhysand and Feyre’s estate had been silent, save for the distant sound of the horses’ hooves and the occasional soft rustling of the wind. Azriel had been beside her, of course, but his presence was as cold as the space between them. Neither of them had spoken, and she had been more than content with that.

Apparently he thought it would be better to go this way rather than to fly her in his arms because that was just too....intimate. And she agreed.

As they entered Rhysand’s home, she couldn’t help but notice how alive it was. Laughter echoed through the halls, the warmth of family and friendship surrounding her. Yet, y/n felt none of that warmth. She felt like an outsider, like a ghost drifting through a place she didn’t belong.

The table was set, and everyone was already seated, talking and laughing. The moment she entered the room, their conversation quieted, but y/n barely noticed. Rhysand gave her a welcoming nod, and Feyre offered a smile, but it felt like nothing more than a formality.

Azriel pulled out the chair beside her, but didn’t speak. He sat down with his usual air of detachment, his eyes already flickering to the female who was named Elain, who was seated across from him. She looked at him with such warmth, her eyes soft, her smile effortless. It made Y/n’s stomach churn.

They were so familiar with each other. So easy in their connection. Elain reached across the table to adjust Azriel’s plate, her fingers brushing his hand just for a second. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, but she quickly swallowed the surge of anger rising within her.

Focus, she told herself, trying to breathe through it.

They were happy. They had every right to be happy. She wasn’t a part of this, not really. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

But it stung, nonetheless. She was his wife. Given, in name only but still.

The conversation flowed around her, but y/n found it hard to participate. Every word, every shared laugh, every glance exchanged between Azriel and Elain felt like a jab in her chest. Her stomach twisted as they continued to speak in their familiar way, each moment a reminder that she was the outsider.

She pushed her food around her plate, not really hungry, but unable to force herself to eat. She couldn’t stomach the thought of food while her thoughts spiraled. Every laugh, every smile from the others felt like a reminder of how alone she was in this room. She had nothing in common with any of them. And as for Azriel...

Azriel.

He barely acknowledged her. Not that she expected him to. But every time he spoke to Elain, it was as if y/n didn’t even exist. He didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, as if she was just another piece of furniture in the room.

It was almost too much to bear.

The moment came when Elain reached over to touch Azriel’s arm, laughing at something he said, her fingers grazing his skin in a way that made y/n’s heart ache.

Y/n stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sudden movement caught everyone’s attention, but Y/n didn’t care. She wasn’t going to sit there anymore, pretending to be part of this farce. She had enough.

"Excuse me," she muttered, her voice sharp, betraying none of the hurt she was feeling. She wasn’t going to let them see it. Not when they didn’t care, when Azriel didn’t care.

Azriel’s eyes flickered up to her, confusion crossing his features for a moment before he quickly masked it with indifference. He said nothing. None of them did. They just watched her leave the table.

Y/n walked out of the dining room, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get out. She needed air. She needed to breathe.

The cool night air hit her as she stepped into the hall, the silence of the house almost suffocating. She needed to leave. Now.

She turned the corner, her breath catching in her throat.

“Y/n,” came a voice from behind her.

It was Cassian.

He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his voice, though he kept a safe distance.

Y/n stiffened, her hands clenched at her sides.

“I just need to go home,” she said, her voice cold. “Send me home.”

Cassian hesitated for a moment, looking past her toward the others in the dining room. Then he nodded, walking toward her.

“Alright,” he said, his tone gentler than she expected. “I’ll take you back.”

Y/n didn’t speak as they left the house, the silence between them heavy. All she wanted was to be away from them, away from the family she would never belong to.

When they reached the gates, Cassian turned to her. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to isolate yourself.”

Y/n stiffened, not trusting herself to respond.

“Just... think about it,” Cassian said quietly, before walking away.

Y/n watched him go, her heart still heavy with the unspoken words between them. She turned back toward the house, feeling the coldness of the night settle in her bones.

Inside, Azriel would remain with his family. With Elain.

And she would be alone. Again.

---------

Azriel paced the length of Rhysand’s study, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the window. Four weeks. Four fucking weeks since the wedding, and nothing had changed. The silence between him and Y/n had only deepened. They were as distant as two strangers, trapped in a marriage neither of them had asked for.

But what else could he do? He had tried. He’d tried to give her space, tried to keep his distance, tried to ignore the way his mind kept drifting back to her. To the way she looked when she walked into a room, or how she had stood up and left the dinner table that night. But none of it mattered. She hated him. And he had every reason to hate her too. She was a foreigner in his world, someone who didn’t belong here.

“Rhys,” Azriel said, his voice low as he turned to face his brother, who was lounging behind his desk, eyes gleaming with that trademark amusement.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, knowing immediately where this was going. “What is it now? Another request for a solo mission?”

Azriel gritted his teeth, frustration clawing at his chest. He couldn’t do it anymore—being stuck in that house with her. Being stuck with the constant reminder that he was married to someone he didn’t even know. And it wasn’t like he was allowed to go out and do his usual work without being burdened by her presence.

“I need a mission, Rhys,” Azriel muttered, pacing again. “I can’t stay there with her. I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine. Like we’re not just two people forced into this. I’m asking you to send me away. Please.”

Rhysand chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair as he watched Azriel’s tense movements. “You sure? Because the last time I saw the two of you together, you looked anything but hateful.”

Azriel froze mid-step, his heart skipping a beat. The words hit him like a punch, knocking the wind out of him. He hadn’t expected Rhys to say that. He’d kept his distance, kept his eyes off her as much as possible, but he couldn’t shake the truth in his brother’s words. He hadn’t seen the way he had looked at her—hadn’t noticed the way she had glanced at him when she thought no one was watching. They were still strangers, but those brief moments... they had felt different.

Azriel scowled, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts swirling in his mind. “You’re wrong. There’s nothing between us. I don’t even see her as my wife. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

Rhys’s gaze softened, but there was still a glimmer of humor behind his eyes. “You keep saying that, but the way I see it, you’re lying to yourself. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You can’t even hide it from me, Az. I know you.”

Azriel growled under his breath, but his brother’s words were like tiny shards of ice, piercing through the walls he’d spent years building around his heart. He couldn’t allow himself to feel. He couldn’t let himself think that maybe, just maybe, Rhys was right.

“You’re out of your mind,” Azriel muttered, taking a step back. “I don’t feel anything for her. I’m just stuck in this mess because you insisted on this ridiculous marriage.”

Rhys leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. His voice was quieter now, but there was a sharpness to it that made Azriel pause. “You can lie to me all you want, but you can’t lie to yourself, Azriel. I know what I saw. And I’m telling you this because you’re my brother. Whatever this is between you two, it’s not going away just because you pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Azriel clenched his fists, his body tight with anger. “I don’t need your advice, Rhys.”

Rhys’s lips quirked up, but there was something more sincere in his gaze now. “I’m not giving advice. I’m telling you what I see. You’ve got two choices: face whatever it is you’re feeling, or keep running from it. But running won’t make it go away.”

Azriel’s mind raced, and he wanted to scream at Rhys, tell him to stop reading him like an open book, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t even look Rhys in the eye for fear that his brother would see through all of his lies.

Instead, he let out a long breath, pushing past the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. “So what do you want me to do?”

Rhys’s expression was unreadable as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. “You’re going to stay with your wife, Azriel. I’m not sending you away on some mission. You need to work this out. You need to talk to her. But I know you won’t, so I’ll tell you this: You’re not as alone as you think you are. But you’ve got to stop pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Azriel’s throat tightened at the implication. He didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, Rhys was right.

“Fine,” Azriel spat, turning toward the door. “I’ll stay. But don’t expect me to like it.”

As his hand gripped the door handle, Rhys’s voice stopped him. “Az,” he said quietly. “Attraction isn’t always easy. But pretending it doesn’t exist? That’s even harder.”

Azriel stood there, frozen, the words echoing in his mind like a haunting whisper. Slowly, he turned to face his brother. “I’m not pretending. I don’t feel anything for her.”

Rhys’s gaze softened, but there was a glint of something that made Azriel’s heart pound. “We both know that’s not true. But it’s your choice, Azriel. I’m just telling you—don’t waste the time you’ve got.”

The weight of Rhys’s words lingered long after he had left the study. Azriel’s mind spun, and for the first time in a long while, his walls cracked just enough for doubt to seep through.

------------

The soft clink of porcelain against porcelain was the only sound filling the quiet, drawing Y/n’s gaze to the cup in front of her. Feyre had insisted she join her for tea—something about “breaking the ice” between them, as if it were that simple. But Y/n knew it was just another attempt to draw her into the circle, to make her feel like she belonged in their world. She didn’t. And she never would.

Y/n’s fingers tightened around the teacup, her knuckles going white as she stared at the swirling liquid, her mind a million miles away. The air in the room was thick with forced civility, and y/n hated it. The delicate sitting room with its cushioned chairs and soft lighting made her skin crawl. It was all a facade. Pretend. She didn’t belong here, and they knew it. Feyre knew it.

“Y/n,” Feyre said, breaking the silence, her voice warm, but still laced with that underlying curiosity. “I know this might not be the easiest thing for you... but I want you to feel at home here, even if just for a little while.”

Y/n’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been mistaken for a smile if one didn’t pay close attention to the coldness in her eyes. “At home?” she repeated flatly, her voice laced with distaste. “That’s funny. I don’t think this house will ever feel like home to me.”

Feyre didn't react to the bite in her tone, her expression steady and patient, as if she were used to it by now. “You’re Azriel’s wife now,” Feyre said, more matter-of-fact than anything else. “You’re part of this family, whether you want to be or not.”

Y/n’s gaze sharpened as she finally looked up, meeting Feyre’s eyes across the table. She let the words hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them settling in her chest. Part of this family. The irony tasted bitter on her tongue. A family she had no stake in. A family she would never be a part of. Not really. She could play the part, sit here, sip tea, and pretend for as long as she needed to, but that didn’t mean she would ever truly be one of them.

“Right,” she muttered, trying to rein in the simmering frustration that was starting to bubble up. “Azriel’s wife.” She forced the words out as if they didn’t sting every time she said them.

Feyre didn’t seem to pick up on the bitterness in Y/n’s tone, or maybe she just didn’t care. She leaned back in her chair, eyes still on Y/n, her expression more thoughtful now.

“How have you been adjusting to everything?” Feyre asked, her voice gentle. It almost sounded like a question of genuine concern, though Y/n knew better. Feyre wasn’t asking to truly understand; she was asking because she had to.

“Fine,” Y/n replied, her voice cold and clipped. “It’s only been a month, after all.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes flickering to the side for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “I understand that it’s not easy. I know Azriel can be… difficult. But he’s a good person, Y/n. He’s been through a lot.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Good person?” she repeated, her voice taking on a mocking edge. “That’s one way to put it.”

Feyre didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her tone shifting, becoming more serious. “I know this whole thing isn’t what you expected. And I can’t pretend to understand what you’re feeling. But I’ve seen the way you look at Azriel. I know it’s hard to… accept everything right now. But he’s not the enemy.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked up sharply, but before she could reply, Feyre continued, her words flowing like water, too fast to interrupt.

“And I know you don’t want to hear this,” Feyre said softly, almost regretfully, “but Elain—Azriel and Elain—there’s something between them. Even now. They can't stay away from one another, no matter what.”

Y/n froze. The words hit her like a physical blow, and for a moment, her vision blurred as a wave of something unrecognizable washed over her—resentment, jealousy, pain? She didn’t know, but it made her stomach twist. She quickly masked it, but Feyre had already seen the flicker in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre added, her voice sincere but firm. “I know you’re married to him, but that’s the truth. Elain has her mate, and Azriel is now married to you, but… there’s something between them, something deeper than either of them can deny.”

Y/n’s grip tightened on her teacup, and she forced her voice to remain steady, even though everything inside her was screaming. “And what does that have to do with me?” she asked, her words clipped, her tone biting.

Feyre didn’t back down. “It has everything to do with you, Y/n. Whether you like it or not, this situation—this marriage—was never just about the two of you. Elain is a part of Azriel’s life, and you’re caught in the middle of it. I’m sorry.” Her words were almost too soft, too apologetic, and it made Y/n want to lash out.

Y/n stood abruptly, pushing her chair back with a screech that echoed through the room. “I don’t need your pity, Feyre,” she spat, her heart racing. “I never did.”

She didn’t give Feyre a chance to respond. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, the sound of Feyre’s voice calling after her—soft, apologetic, and full of regret—fading as she made her way down the hall.

She didn’t care.

Not about them. Not about Elain and Azriel. Not about Feyre or any of it.

But deep down, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that something had shifted in her since that conversation. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt it, burning like a brand beneath her skin.

———-

Y/n sat alone in their shared home, the silence of the space pressing down on her like a weight she could barely lift. The walls seemed to close in as she glanced at the clock. Another evening without Azriel. Another day where the distance between them only seemed to grow.

It had been weeks, two months now, since the wedding—an event she had reluctantly accepted but had done nothing to erase the bitterness in her heart. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t let her emotions get the best of her, that she would remain indifferent. After all, this wasn’t a marriage born of love, and that was clear from the start.

But the constant tension in the house, the subtle glances between Azriel and Elain whenever they were in the same room, was enough to make her stomach churn with something that wasn’t hatred—something else, something more destructive.

She could never escape it. They were everywhere. Azriel with Elain. Elain with Azriel. It was like the universe kept reminding her of the one thing she couldn’t control.

With a sharp exhale, Y/n threw herself onto the couch, eyes closing in frustration. She could hear them in the hallway just outside. Their soft laughter, their quiet conversations.

Her hands clenched at her sides.

No. No more.

She stood, her heartbeat quickening as she made her way down the hall. She couldn’t keep pretending. Not anymore.

Azriel stood at the door to the study, his posture relaxed, leaning slightly against the doorframe as Elain spoke softly to him. They were close—too close. The sight of them made Y/n’s skin burn.

She took a step forward, and they both fell silent. Azriel’s eyes shifted to her, but he didn’t look surprised. He never did.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Azriel,” Y/n’s voice cut through the silence, the coldness of her tone making the words sharper than she intended. “I know exactly what’s going on here.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened, a warning flashing in them, but Y/n didn’t care. She had spent the last month walking on eggshells, suppressing the growing anger that had been building inside her. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You’re in love with her,” Y/n spat, her words filled with venom. “I don’t know why I even bother. All this time pretending like we’re somehow in this together. But you can’t even look at me without looking at her too.”

Elain shifted uncomfortably, but it was Azriel who spoke first. His voice was tight with restraint. “Y/n, not now.”

“Not now?” Y/n repeated, her voice rising. “I’m tired of pretending that you and I are some happy little couple when all you do is look at her like she’s the only person in this world. How stupid do you think I am? I’m not blind, Azriel. It’s pathetic.”

Azriel’s expression darkened, but he didn’t move. “That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not enough,” Y/n snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. “I’m not your fucking fool. You’re married to me, and you can’t even act like it. You can’t even look at me without thinking of her.”

There was a dangerous quiet in the air now. Azriel’s jaw clenched as he took a step toward her, his voice cold. “Watch your words, Y/n. I didn’t marry you because I wanted to. You think I don’t see the way you look at me? Don’t pretend like you’re innocent in all of this. We’re both stuck in this arrangement. Don’t make it more than it is.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. “I’m stuck in this arrangement?” she echoed, incredulity lacing her voice. “I never wanted this! You’re the one who’s in love with her, Azriel. I’m just a placeholder. You think I don’t see it? The way you and Elain look at each other when you think no one’s watching?”

“Stop it,” Azriel growled, his tone low and dangerous.

But Y/n didn’t stop. She had no intention of stopping now. All the feelings she had been burying, all the resentment and jealousy, came pouring out in a surge of anger she could no longer control. “It’s obvious, Azriel.You wish she was your mate. You’re just waiting for some godforsaken miracle to undo this marriage, and the whole time I’m stuck with you—with someone who doesn’t even want me.”

The words hung in the air like a spell, suffocating her, but she didn’t care. It was the truth, and for the first time, she didn’t bother pretending otherwise.

For a moment, there was only silence. Elain had stepped back, her eyes wide, but Azriel stood frozen in place, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something unreadable.

Then he spoke, his voice low, edged with something close to fury. “I never asked for this either. Don’t act like you’re the only one suffering through it.”

Y/n’s chest heaved as she swallowed back the rising tide of emotions threatening to overtake her. “You think this is hard for you? You don’t even know what this feels like. I don’t care about the Hybern blood in me. I don’t care about your hatred for it. But I’m not stupid. And I’m done.”

Azriel opened his mouth to speak, but Y/n was already turning on her heel, storming out of the room before he could say anything. Her footsteps echoed in the hall, the weight of the argument heavy in the air.

As she slammed the door behind her, she leaned against it, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

Her heart was pounding, a mixture of fury and hurt boiling inside her. She had just exposed everything—the truth she had been holding in for so long. And she didn’t know if she felt better or worse for it.

The next day, Y/n didn’t care. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. The argument with Azriel had been explosive, and she hadn’t bothered to check on him since. He was probably off somewhere with Elain, as usual, ignoring her existence in favor of someone who truly mattered to him.

And that was fine. She wasn’t about to play the part of the desperate, insecure wife. She didn’t care what he did, who he was with, or what he had to say. The venom in her words from last night still echoed in her mind, but she refused to acknowledge the small, gnawing feeling in her chest that told her maybe—just maybe—she had gone too far.

But no, she wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t going to let herself soften for him. She’d learned a long time ago that there was nothing worth caring about in this world. So why bother?

The morning had been cold, and she had spent most of it in her room, staring out the window, watching the city go about its business below. Her thoughts had drifted, as they often did these days, from one dark corner of her mind to another. She couldn’t afford to linger on Azriel or Elain. She couldn’t afford to care about anything.

But as she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and left the house for a walk—just to clear her head—the air felt heavier than usual. There was something about the silence that seemed too still, too quiet.

She passed through the marketplace, her boots clicking on the cobblestones, ignoring the looks from the locals. The city was full of people, but in this moment, Y/n felt more alone than ever. She could feel the weight of the fight from last night still hovering over her, but it was easier to let it sit in the back of her mind while she focused on the mundane tasks of everyday life.

That was, until a shadow fell across her path.

Before she could even register what was happening, something hard pressed against her side, a sharp pain searing through her ribs. Her instincts screamed at her to fight, but it was too late. She barely had time to react before she was pulled into an alley, her body shoved roughly against the stone wall. The smell of sweat, damp earth, and something sour filled her nostrils, and she choked on the sudden rush of fear that flooded her veins.

Her heart pounded as she struggled, but the grip on her arms tightened. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she fought against the strong hands holding her still. She twisted, trying to break free, but the attackers were swift—too swift.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed through gritted teeth, her heart racing with adrenaline. But the men—two of them—said nothing. One of them simply pressed a cloth to her mouth, and before she could react, darkness closed in.

The world around her spun, and everything went black.

When Y/n came to, the first thing she noticed was the cold, damp stone beneath her. She was lying flat on her back, and the air smelled stale, like a forgotten cellar. Her head throbbed, and a dull ache spread across her temples. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings, but the flickering light from a torch just ahead didn’t do much to illuminate the small, cramped room.

Panic surged through her as she sat up, her hands immediately reaching for her body, checking for any weapons. There were none. Her throat felt dry, and her mind raced with questions.

Where was she?

Why had they taken her?

And who were these people?

A soft clink of metal on stone made her pause. She looked up, eyes narrowing as she saw a shadow moving in the doorway of the room. It was hard to make out much in the dim light, but she could feel the eyes on her. The presence of someone… watching.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice said, smooth and cold, like it was used to power. A woman stepped into view, her features shadowed but unmistakably cruel. “You didn’t think you could just walk through our lands, did you?”

Y/n didn’t respond, her chest tight with the remnants of fear. She had been captured—no, taken—by people who didn’t want a Hybern bloodline anywhere near their territory. How ironic. They probably thought they were doing the world a favor, ridding the land of her existence.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes glinting with anger. “I have nothing to do with Hybern,” she spat, her voice hoarse from the struggle earlier.

The woman smiled coldly, circling around Y/n like a predator eyeing its prey. “You’re still part of that bloodline. And that makes you dangerous.”

Y/n glared at her, unwilling to let her see the fear she felt inside. “You’ll regret this.”

The woman laughed. “Maybe. But first, we have to make sure you’re… disappeared.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what that meant. But she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

----------

Azriel sat beside Elain, his hand resting on her back as she sobbed quietly into his chest. He tried to focus on her, on the comfort he had been offering her over the past few days, but it was difficult. His mind kept drifting back to Y/n—her words from yesterday, the way she had spat venom at him like it was second nature.

He could still hear the bite in her voice, the sting of every insult, every accusation. “I know we’re not going to acknowledge each other, but this is too much. You’re clearly in love with Elain.”

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he murmured again, but his voice lacked conviction. He was trying to soothe her, to ease the hurt between them, but the more he tried, the more he realized something was slipping through his fingers.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Y/n since their argument. Her words had cut him deeper than he wanted to admit, and no matter how many times he tried to push the thoughts away, they kept coming back.

Azriel shook his head, trying to focus on Elain, trying to push the thoughts of Y/n away. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but the truth was undeniable. The space between him and Elain had begun to feel… too much.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said softly, his hand still resting on Elain’s back as she wept in his arms. But even as the words left his mouth, he realized they didn’t feel true—not in the way they used to. He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for his actions toward Elain or for his lack of real feeling.

Elain’s crying began to quiet, her sobs fading as she pulled back, looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “Azriel, please... don’t be angry at me.”

“I’m not angry with you,” he said, though the words felt hollow in his chest.

He wasn’t angry with Elain, but he was angry with himself. Angry for not knowing where his feelings lay, angry for the distance he felt between them now, and for the strange emptiness he couldn’t fill.

But it wasn’t just Elain’s tears that had him unsettled. It was Y/n’s absence. It was the sharpness of their argument and the way her eyes had looked at him—like she saw through him, saw the cracks in his walls.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash at the door, and Cassian’s voice broke through the thick air.

“Azriel, we have a problem.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, his body instantly coiling in tension as Cassian’s words hit him like a jolt of ice water. He barely registered Elain’s shocked gasp or her hands gripping his arms.

“Y/n… she’s been taken.”

The words sliced through him, the shock of it freezing him in place for a moment. But the second the panic set in, his instincts took over. He surged to his feet, wings snapping out in a violent, protective motion. His heart pounded, and for a moment, he couldn’t even process what was happening.

He looked down at Elain, but the sight of her trembling face barely registered. His mind was on one thing and one thing only now—Y/n. The feeling of her absence, the way her anger had consumed him just the day before, now transforming into something far more urgent.

“Where is my wife?” he demanded, his voice dark and low, as though some primal part of him had snapped into place.

Cassian, too, was already moving toward the door, but his expression was grim. “We don’t know. We’re trying to track her, but—”

“I don’t care!” Azriel shouted, his wings flaring with rage. “I’m not letting anyone take her. I’ll burn the world to the ground if I have to.”

He didn’t wait for Cassian’s response. Without another glance at Elain, Azriel turned on his heel and shot out the door, his mind fixated entirely on Y/n.

The world around him faded, and all that remained was the overwhelming need to find her. He could feel it, deep inside—a pull stronger than any duty, any obligation to Elain.

Y/n had been taken, and he wasn’t going to stop until she was back in his arms.

-----------

Y/n’s head ached. The dull throb behind her eyes was only amplified by the cold stone walls surrounding her, the darkness pressing in on every side. She didn’t know how long it had been since they’d taken her—time felt like it was slipping away in the disorienting silence, the hours blurring into one another as the isolation began to eat away at her.

She had been caught. Captured by those who feared her connection to Hybern, to everything that had once been her bloodline. She had known the risks when she left her home, when she had left Azriel’s side. But that didn’t make it easier.

Her thoughts flickered to him—Azriel. The argument from the night before still stung like fresh wounds. She didn’t need to think about him, didn’t want to, but the ache in her chest had nothing to do with the physical restraints keeping her in place.

She felt nothing for him, right? He was married to Elain. He had his duty.

So why, then, did her stomach twist at the thought of him being with her?

She hated this feeling—the weakness, the vulnerability. All of it felt like a damn trap.

"Enough," she whispered harshly to herself, shaking her head. "Focus, Y/n."

The sounds of her captors outside the cell grated on her nerves, their laughter a mockery of her situation. She had to get out. She couldn’t be here, locked away like some caged animal. She was stronger than this. She had to remind herself of that, had to remember who she was. A fighter. Not some fragile creature waiting to be saved.

But even as she steeled herself for whatever was coming next, a part of her—a deep, raw part of her—felt that familiar, bitter feeling. The one that had started as anger and had transformed into something else entirely when she realized just how much it had all meant.

Azriel.

She had fought for control of her emotions, forcing herself to believe that nothing about their situation would ever change, that it was a marriage out of duty and hatred, but those words—the ones she’d thrown at him, the ones that cut her deep—had twisted something inside of her.

You’re clearly in love with Elain.

She hated that it was true.

She clenched her fists, the cold iron biting into her skin. I hate him. The words were as much of a command as a declaration, but the heaviness in her chest betrayed them.

She heard footsteps approaching, the sound of keys rattling as they unlocked her cell. A cold breeze swept in, and the faintest trace of her captors' low murmurs made her mind race. She wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

But it was hard to ignore the way her pulse spiked when she thought of what lay ahead, of the uncertainty, of whether she would ever see Azriel again.

She didn’t know what she expected from him—whether he would even care enough to search for her, or if he would return to Elain, who was probably sitting in his arms right now, not knowing that Y/n had been taken.

"Get up," a voice barked from the doorway, dragging her from her spiraling thoughts.

Y/n’s gaze snapped to the figure in the shadows, her heart racing, but she forced herself to remain still. She wasn’t going to break—she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The figure stepped closer, and she recognized the glint of the knife at his waist. “You’re coming with me.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, refusing to show any sign of fear. She had learned long ago not to let anyone see her weakness. “Where are you taking me?”

“Does it matter?” He sneered, reaching for her arm to yank her to her feet.

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she stood on her own, using every ounce of her will to push the emotions threatening to overwhelm her to the back of her mind. She had to stay focused.

One step at a time. She could get out of this. She could find a way to escape—she wouldn’t let herself be caught like this. Not again.

As the door slammed behind her, the cold weight of her situation settled over her. The farther they took her, the further she seemed to slip away from everything she once knew.

And, somehow, the emptiness in her chest—the one that had started with Azriel, with her own regrets—only seemed to grow.

-------

Azriel couldn’t breathe. The moment Cassian had burst into the room with the news that Y/n had been taken, something inside of him snapped. The tight, cold grip he’d placed on his emotions shattered, and for the first time in weeks, raw, unrelenting fury took control. He hadn’t thought about his wife much in the past few days—had buried himself in missions and training and Elain’s presence, but now, as the reality of her abduction set in, it was all he could think of.

Where the hell is my wife?

Rhysand’s voice had faded into the background as Azriel shoved past him, already moving, already planning. He wasn’t thinking clearly, didn’t care what anyone else had to say. They were in her land now. They had taken his wife, and that was something no one would get away with.

He was the shadowsinger, a mster spy, after all. So, it was only a matter of minutes before he found where the bastards had taken his woman.

The enemy camp was in a desolate part of the forest, surrounded by crumbling ruins. Azriel’s heart beat erratically as he winnowed in with Cassian and Rhysand by his side, their shadows flickering in the cold moonlight. Every inch of his body screamed for violence.

“Get her back, Az,” Cassian said, his voice low, but his eyes just as bloodshot with rage. They both understood that this wasn’t just about a fight—it was about protecting their own.

“Stay close,” Azriel muttered, but his mind was already focused on the task ahead. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

The chaos was immediate. His shadows lashed out, tearing through the enemy guards, their screams drowned by the sound of Azriel’s wings slicing through the air, the crack of bones breaking under his fists. He killed anyone who dared stand in his path, his every move laced with the rage he couldn’t keep contained. He didn’t need to think—just act.

And then, there she was.

Y/n.

She was slumped against the wall, pale and barely conscious, her body battered. Her arms were tied, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“Y/n!” he roared, voice hoarse with relief and fury as he saw her in that state.

Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, and then closed again, as if she didn’t even have the strength to acknowledge him. That did something to him—something he couldn’t name, something sharp and painful.

Without another thought, he was at her side, gently cutting through the ropes binding her with his shadows. His hands were trembling, but he couldn’t afford to care. “Please, stay with me, Y/n. I’m not leaving you here,” he whispered, his voice raw.

He picked her up carefully, cradling her against his chest as he shot one last look at the carnage around them. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Cassian and Rhysand were already clearing the way, ensuring there were no more threats. Azriel’s shadows fought off anyone who dared get too close as he winnowed them away from the enemy camp.

The moment they were back in the safety of their home, Azriel collapsed to his knees, his heart pounding in his chest. Y/n was limp in his arms, her face pale, her breathing erratic. His gaze flicked over her, and the sheer terror of what had just happened—of nearly losing her—made his stomach churn.

“Y/n,” he breathed, brushing her hair back from her forehead, his fingers trembling with urgency. He needed her to stay awake, needed her to hear him.

"Please, stay awake for me, please, sweetheart.” he begged, voice desperate, not caring if anyone heard the raw plea in his tone.

But her eyes remained closed, her breathing shallow and strained. The darkness beneath her lids said everything he didn’t want to hear: she was slipping away.

And that realization—how close he had come to losing her—shattered him in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.

His anger was still there, like a storm waiting to break, but all he could feel now was the overwhelming need to protect her, to hold her, to never let anything like this happen again.

Her body was growing heavier in his arms, and her fingers, which had once clutched at him with fury and confusion, were now limp.

"Y/n," he whispered again, more softly this time, pressing his forehead to hers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, stay with me."

But she didn’t answer, her breathing fading as the darkness of unconsciousness took hold. He felt the weight of her body as she collapsed fully against him, and his heart clenched painfully.

He couldn’t breathe. She was slipping away, and he couldn’t stop it.

Azriel stood there for a long moment, clutching her to him like she was the very air he breathed. His wings were spread protectively around them both, and though his body was screaming for him to act, to fight, to do something, all he could do was hold her close.

"Please," he whispered once more, his voice cracking. "Please don’t leave me."

A hand on his shoulder.

Feyre.

"Az, let go, we need her to be treated immediately."

---------

The first thing Y/n became aware of was the warmth surrounding her. She wasn’t sure where she was, but the soft texture beneath her body—silk sheets—told her that it wasn’t the filthy cell she’d just been in. Her mind was hazy, heavy, and every inch of her body ached, like she had been dragged through hell and back.

But the pain didn’t matter. She didn’t care.

Her eyes flickered open, and the first thing she saw was the dark silhouette of Azriel, standing beside her bed, his face strained and full of tension. His posture was rigid, his shadows curling around him, as if they, too, were on edge.

She swallowed the bitter taste of her own thoughts. She had no reason to feel anything, and yet her heart felt frozen in place. The emotions she had once tried to push aside were back, gnawing at her from the inside. Anger. Hurt. Indifference.

What had he done for her, really? She was alive, yes, but that was all. The person who had put her here—the person who had torn her life apart—was the one who had saved her.

He was standing there, as if it all made sense, as if they could go back to normal, as if the last few weeks had been anything other than a farce. She could feel the pity in his eyes, though it wasn’t obvious. His brow was furrowed, and his jaw clenched, his emotions in turmoil.

But none of it mattered.

"Azriel," she whispered, the sound of his name bitter on her tongue. She didn’t want to care about his distress, didn’t want to acknowledge it. His guilt, his regrets, his useless efforts—it all felt like too much. She pushed herself up on the bed slowly, her head swimming with the effort, her hands shaking. The whole world felt like a haze, but the bitterness that had settled deep in her chest was crystal clear.

"How nice," she spoke again, her voice cold, cutting through the air like ice. "You saved me, only after your people did all this shit to me. After they kidnapped me, tortured me. It’s funny, don’t you think? How your people did this to me, yet here you are, looking like you give a damn."

Azriel didn’t answer immediately. She could see his hands tighten into fists at his sides. He was still looking at her with those dark, unreadable eyes, his chest rising and falling as if he were holding his breath. She didn’t care.

She had spent so many weeks in this hell of a situation, forced to live in a marriage that felt more like a cage than anything else. His coldness toward her, his complete refusal to acknowledge her existence—none of it was forgotten. If anything, it had only made her hate him more.

"I don’t expect an apology," she said with a brittle laugh, "because I know I won’t get one."

Azriel’s mouth tightened, but she wasn’t sure if it was in anger or frustration. He was silent for a long moment, and the only sound in the room was the soft rustling of his shadows, as if they were waiting for his command. His eyes softened just a little, but Y/n refused to acknowledge it.

“Y/n,” he said finally, his voice strained but laced with something she couldn’t place. “I know you hate me. I don’t blame you. But—”

She cut him off with a sharp glance. “But nothing. It doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m still here, stuck with you and your family. With your people.”

Her chest tightened again, but she forced herself to ignore it. There was no space for weakness. No room for softness.

Azriel swallowed, his face contorting with some emotion she couldn’t read. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if searching for words that could repair the irreparable. But there was nothing. Nothing that would fix the broken trust. Nothing that would heal the wounds he had helped create.

Azriel watched her closely, feeling the weight of her words, feeling the coldness emanating from her. His heart ached in a way he couldn’t explain. The bitter realization settled in his chest, a slow burn of understanding.

She was his mate.

He had refused to believe it when he first felt it but....it all made sense. And the more he thought of it, the more he was surprised to find himself not feeling enraged with the idea.

He had panicked. Gone feral. Of course it made sense now. Why he had been so frantic when they’d taken her. Why he felt this overwhelming sense of protectiveness, why his world had turned upside down when he thought he had lost her. Why he refused to leave her side for even a single second these past few days.

But he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. She hated him, and rightfully so. He had spent weeks ignoring her, fighting against a bond he hadn’t known how to accept. Now that he understood, now that it was clear... It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t believe him.

“Y/n,” he said again, voice softer this time. He reached a hand out toward her, but she pulled away. She didn’t want him near her. Not now. Not after everything.

"I’m not asking for your forgiveness," Azriel continued, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I just... I’ll do better. I’ll make an effort."

His words felt hollow, even to him. What could he possibly do to make this right? How could he fix what had been broken? How could he earn her trust back, when he had destroyed it so thoroughly?

Y/n didn’t answer him. She just stared at him, her eyes cold and unreadable. It made something deep inside him twist painfully.

“I don’t need your promises,” she finally spoke, her voice flat. “And I don’t need you to ‘try’ for me, Azriel. I don’t need you for anything.”

Her words stung, cutting deeper than anything he could’ve expected. But they were the truth. She hated him, and he deserved it.

Still, the pull between them remained undeniable, even if she refused to see it.

Azriel didn’t move. He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing left to say.

Y/n felt the emptiness spread inside her. The room felt too small, the air too heavy. She wanted to be anywhere but here—anywhere but in this cage of her own making.

But she was still here. And nothing was going to change that.

And no amount of promises could make her believe that Azriel was ever going to be the man she needed.

----------

The days had blurred together since the night she had collapsed in his arms. Y/n’s body still ached, but it was a dull, almost forgettable pain now. It had been replaced by the ache of something deeper—something she refused to acknowledge. And Azriel was still there. Every morning, every evening. Silent, but ever-present.

At first, she had ignored him. At first, she’d kept herself isolated from him, refusing to speak, refusing to even look in his direction. But over the past week, something had shifted. It wasn’t that she had softened—no, it wasn’t that easy. But there were moments, fleeting, almost invisible, when his presence didn’t annoy her as much. When she’d see him at the door, a cup of tea in his hand, his eyes soft as he looked at her, and for a brief second, her chest would tighten—not with anger, but with something else.

Something like... relief?

“No more lectures today,” Azriel had said the night before, after yet another one of his silent offerings of tea.

Y/n had shot him a look, her mouth curling into a mock smile. “I didn’t ask for your company,” she snapped, but the words felt hollow even to her.

He’d shrugged and set the cup on the table beside her. “I’m not here for your approval. Just... here."

She had expected him to say something about his promise to “try harder” or some nonsense, but he didn’t. He just left, the sound of his footsteps faint as they receded down the hall.

It was... different.

--------

Two weeks after the attack, Y/n found herself trying to get up from the bed and walk again. Her fingers running over the old wooden dresser. There was a strange sense of isolation she couldn’t shake, despite the fact that she was under the same roof as him and his family. Despite the fact that he was so close, his presence was always felt, even when he wasn’t physically in the room.

It was impossible to ignore him, and for some reason, it frustrated her to no end.

Her mind drifted back to that night, to their conversation in the healing room. The one where Azriel had apologized again, as if it would fix things. She didn’t understand why he cared so much, and maybe that was what irritated her. Maybe that was the part she didn’t want to understand.

Just as she turned to the door, there he was, standing in the doorway, his usual shadowed presence filling the space.

“I don’t need you here,” Y/n said before he could say anything, her voice harsh.

Azriel took a slow breath, his gaze unwavering. “I know.”

She froze, the harsh words hanging in the air between them. She expected him to back down, to offer an apology. But instead, he took a step forward, his wings flexing in a fluid motion.

“I’m not leaving. But I’ll stay out of your way.” His voice was low, almost too careful. He came and gently took ahold of her arm, helping her move around. And for the first time in weeks, Y/n felt something different—something close to a sigh of relief.

----------

Another few days passed, and somehow, against every instinct she had, Y/n found herself standing next to Azriel in the heart of Velaris. The City of Starlight, as Rhysand called it, was beautiful beyond measure—its elegance, its warmth, its life, pulsing through every street, every corner.

The night was warm, the air fragrant with flowers, the glow of lanterns casting a soft golden hue over the cobblestones. For a moment, Y/n forgot about the tensions, about the animosity between her and Azriel. The city had a way of washing away that bitterness, as though its magic had seeped into her very bones.

This was truly the first time she came to explore the city since her arrival in here.

“You’re not afraid of it?” she asked, her voice soft as she turned to Azriel, who had been walking beside her, seemingly lost in thought.

Azriel glanced at her, his face unreadable for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Afraid of Velaris? No. I’m afraid of what I might do to you here, though.”

Y/n met his gaze, and for once, she didn’t feel the sharp edge of anger that usually followed whenever they spoke. “I don’t need your protection.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice quiet but firm. “You don’t. But I’d like to be here for you anyway.”

Y/n didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. Instead, she let herself enjoy the night. It was small—so small—but it was something.

----------

Something like... relief?

“No more lectures today,” Azriel had said the night before, after yet another one of his silent offerings of tea.

Y/n had shot him a look, her mouth curling into a mock smile. “I didn’t ask for your company,” she snapped, but the words felt hollow even to her.

He’d shrugged and set the cup on the table beside her. “I’m not here for your approval. Just... here."

She had expected him to say something about his promise to “try harder” or some nonsense, but he didn’t. He just left, the sound of his footsteps faint as they receded down the hall.

It was... different.

It had been three weeks since the incident that nearly tore her apart, and today was different. Today, something inside her had shifted. The cold walls she’d built around herself, the ones she’d reinforced with every cruel word, every insult, every bit of anger toward him—they were slowly crumbling.

Y/n had been in the courtyard of Rhysand’s estate, sitting on a bench, watching the sun set over the city when Azriel appeared beside her.

“I have something I want to show you,” he said, his voice low, hesitant in a way that was both surprising and familiar.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He extended his hand toward her, and for a long moment, she simply stared at it. His shadows curled around him, his presence unmistakable, but it wasn’t commanding anymore. It was... something else. Gentle. Inviting.

He didn’t say anything else. Just stood there, waiting for her to make the choice.

Slowly, reluctantly, she stood and placed her hand in his.

The world shifted beneath them.

In an instant, the ground disappeared from beneath their feet, and Y/n gasped, her body jerking slightly. She instinctively grabbed onto Azriel’s shoulders, her pulse quickening as they soared higher into the sky. The wind whipped through her hair, the city shrinking below them, and the stars stretched endlessly above.

Azriel’s voice was a soft hum in the air as they flew through the night. “I wanted you to see the city from here. From above.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t help herself. It was too beautiful, too breathtaking.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to share this with me,” she whispered, her grip tightening slightly on his arm.

Azriel glanced at her, his eyes full of something she couldn’t quite place. “I don’t know why I’m showing you this. But I want you to understand. Velaris is mine to protect... and now, it’s yours too.”

Her heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was something else. Something warmer, like the firelight crackling in the hearth back at Rhysand’s house.

And when they landed, her feet once again on solid ground, she didn’t pull away immediately. Her hand remained in his, his other hand still keeping her tight and close to his body, and for the first time, she didn’t feel the need to retract.

For once, she felt... safe.

-------------

And so it went on, day after day, as her an Azriel got closer and closer, him constantly making efforts to be with her.

"I never had anyone who supported me. My aprents aren't exactly the most.....nicest beings on the planet."

Azriel looked down at her, in his arms, as they both stood in the balcony. His grip on her tightened as he said firmly, “Then I’ll be the one who supports you,” He hadn’t planned on saying those words. They just... slipped out. But once they were out in the open, he felt a weight lift off his chest, like a truth he’d been trying to avoid for far too long.

Y/n shifted slightly in his arms, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline of Velaris. Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her body softened, just a fraction. “You don’t have to. No one has to. I’ve always done fine on my own.”

Azriel’s hand moved slightly, tracing the line of her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her skin in the way he’d seen himself do to comfort others—except this time, he wasn’t comforting anyone else. He was comforting her. His mate. The thought still sent a jolt through him every time, but the longer he was with her, the more natural it felt.

“I know you’re used to doing things on your own,” Azriel murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “But you don’t have to anymore.”

She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Why? Why do you even care?” The question was blunt, almost sharp, but there was no anger in it—just the echo of confusion and wariness.

Azriel swallowed, feeling something shift in him. Something... softer, but stronger at the same time. “Because I’m not like your parents, Y/n,” he said quietly, the words coming from deep within. “I’m not going to turn my back on you. Not now. Not ever.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of their breaths in the quiet of the evening. Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to figure out if he meant it, if he was lying.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick with unspoken words, and then she sighed softly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I don’t know if I can trust that,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve been let down before.”

Azriel felt his heart tighten. He knew all too well the feeling of being betrayed, of being left alone. But now wasn’t the time for his own wounds to resurface. This was about her. He stepped closer, his hands gently cupping her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I won’t let you down. I can’t promise it will be easy, but I can promise I’ll always be here. For you.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away, her lips parted as if to speak, but the words never came. Instead, she just nodded, once, almost imperceptibly.

Azriel leaned forward then, slowly, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before pressing his forehead gently against hers. “I’m here, sweetpea,” he whispered again, his voice a soft, steady promise. “And I’ll keep being here.”

And in that moment, something cracked in her chest. It wasn’t trust—at least not yet—but it was a shift. A tiny step toward letting him in.

For the first time in a long while, Y/n didn’t feel so alone.

-------

As the days and weeks passed, the distance between Y/n and Azriel shrank. Slowly but surely, she let her guard down, just a little. His presence became more and more a part of her routine, his quiet support a constant in her life. They were no longer strangers trapped in a forced marriage. They were two people learning to understand one another, navigating through the walls they'd built up around themselves.

Azriel's efforts were unwavering. He would sit beside her when she needed company, but he also gave her space when she wanted to retreat into herself. They shared small, silent moments: him waiting for her to speak when she wasn't sure if she could, him showing her parts of Velaris she hadn't yet seen, him listening to her thoughts when she finally dared to open up. In turn, Y/n began to share more and more, until her ice-cold exterior started to melt, just a little at a time.

But still, she kept her distance emotionally. She was hesitant to allow herself to get too close, to let herself feel anything beyond the surface. Because underneath, she still wasn’t sure if she could trust it. Could trust him.

One evening, when the moon hung low in the sky, Azriel brought her to the edge of a quiet garden just outside the city. The stars glittered overhead, and the air was cool, the scent of night-blooming flowers filling the space around them. He stood beside her, quiet as always, but there was something different in his posture tonight. Something weighted, something serious.

Y/n was standing a few paces away, her back turned, arms crossed over her chest as she stared out at the vast, star-filled sky. She had gotten used to the silence between them, but tonight it felt heavy, almost as if he were waiting for something.

“You’ve been distant tonight,” she said, not turning around. She knew he was there, felt his presence in a way that had become familiar.

Azriel shifted, his shadowed wings shifting with him. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice a bit quieter than usual. “About... everything.”

Y/n didn’t look at him, not yet. But she felt the weight of his gaze on her, pulling her attention in ways she couldn’t ignore. "About what?" Her voice was guarded, but there was a softness to it now.

Azriel took a step closer, his hand reaching out, though he hesitated before touching her. He wasn’t sure how she would react—if she would push him away again. “About us. And what comes next.”

The words stirred something in her. Y/n slowly turned to face him, her expression unreadable, but she was feeling something now—something she hadn't let herself feel before. Her heart, cold and distant for so long, was starting to thaw.

“What do you mean by ‘what comes next’?” she asked, her voice faintly trembling.

Azriel exhaled softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and for the first time in a long while, Y/n saw the full weight of his feelings—of everything he hadn’t said, hadn’t shown. "Y/n, you’ve been through so much. I know that. And we’ve both been trying to navigate a marriage that wasn’t our choice. But what I’m about to say... it matters. And I’ve been afraid, afraid to tell you. But it's time."

Y/n frowned, the confusion on her face deepening. “What are you talking about?”

Azriel stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His eyes never left hers, and she could see the vulnerability in them now. The walls he'd built, even for her, were starting to crumble. He had kept so much from her, kept his distance when he shouldn't have. And now, it was time to tell her the truth.

“You’re my mate,” he said softly, the words coming out almost as a whisper. "I knew the moment I brought you back, Y/n. I didn’t want to tell you then... We were both still so caught up in our own worlds. I thought you wouldn’t want me. I thought it was too much. But now I can’t pretend anymore.”

Y/n blinked, her heart stopping for a beat. The words felt like a punch to the gut—everything she’d been trying to avoid hearing, but somehow, deep down, she had known. It was always there, lurking just beneath the surface. The way they had gravitated toward one another, the way she felt when she was with him. It wasn’t just a bond created by circumstance.

“Wait... you knew?” Y/n’s voice was quiet, but the disbelief in it was impossible to miss. “You knew all this time, and you didn’t tell me?” Her voice started to shake with the sudden rush of emotions she hadn’t let herself feel. The anger, the confusion, the hurt. It all came rushing back. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Azriel took a step back, his hands flexing at his sides as if he were torn between stepping closer or retreating. “I thought—” he paused, trying to find the right words. “I thought you’d be angry. I thought you wouldn’t want me. You were already dealing with everything. You didn’t need the pressure of that on top of it. I couldn’t give you more pain.”

Y/n’s heart ached at his words, but there was anger too, rising like a tide inside her. “You couldn’t have trusted me enough to tell me? To let me decide for myself? You can’t just assume how I feel about you, Azriel. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

Azriel winced at her words, but there was nothing he could say to make it better. He had made a mistake. A huge one. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do with it. But now... I can’t pretend anymore. You’re my mate. I never should’ve kept it from you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world felt still. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She was angry, but deep down, there was something else—something softer, something that wanted to understand, wanted to reach out. But trust didn’t come easily for her. Not after everything.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Azriel's heart clenched. “I’m not asking you to know right now. But I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready.”

Y/n didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stepped back, her eyes still locked on his, but her heart was a tumult of emotions she couldn’t put into words. “I need time,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

Azriel nodded, his expression softening. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

---------

It was a week later that they fully gave into one another.

Y/n hadn't expected this, she truly didn't. She was still processing everything, how crazy it all was. How, for the past four months, her life has been nothing but a roller coaster.

At first, she was certain she hated him. Despised him even.

But now, after all that happened, and especially after his confession, she couldn't hide her growing feelings anymore. Her mother would have been disappointed. Feelings are a weakness. But-

"You seem to be lost in thought."

Y/n lifted her head from her bed to see Azriel, standing in her doorway, arms crossed, a small smile on his lips.

She just sighed and leaned back down on her bed, slowly gesturing for him to come sit beside her. "So much is happening...I don't know what to feel anymore."

She felt the bed dip beside her as Azriel sat, "Well, if you tell me-"

His words were cut off as his eyes lowered and he took in the sheer, dark blue, nightgown she was wearing. It wasn't intentional really, she just put on what her hand took ahold of first but now....as she sat there and watched as her mate's eyes went darker and darker as he stared more and more, y/n couldn't help but feel proud of herself.

And so, that was how it began.

How they slowly got closer and closer until only mere inches seperated them before they both succumbed to their needs and kissed.

Denying Azriel's attrctiveness was like denying the existence of life itself.

And before either registered it, they were both naked, with Azriel kissing, sucking and biting each part of her. Her moans echoing throughout the room, handds scratching his scalp, their bodies glued to one another.

"So beautiful." a kiss to her collarbone, "So fucking beautiful."

"Mother above, look at these breasts. Can't believe you've been hiding them from me for four months."

Praises kept falling from Azriels lips as eventually, they were both connected fully. The second his cock entered her, Azriel couldn't help the groan that left his throat. His thighs seperating her legs further as he started off slowly, to savour this moment. His hands were palming her breasts, eyes glued to her face, her body, her expression, every little part, really.

She was perfect.

Then she held her arms open, open for him to lay his head in the crook of her neck as his hips began taking on a faster pace, his breathy moans and groans mixing with hers.

"F-fuck, that's it, s-sweetpie. Keep making those moans for me."

They didn't stop the whole night, going at it like a newly mated couple which...they probably were at this point.

Eventually though, by sunrise, they were entangled together, his dick still semi-hard inside of her.

"You are all mine." Azriel's voice dripped with posession as he kissed her neck, nuzzling his head there.

Y/n smiled slightly.

"Oh really? and here I thought I was just another one of your many projects. How flattering.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “You’re not just a project,” he replied, his voice low, serious even, as his fingers brushed against the small of her back. “You’re mine. And I don’t take what’s mine lightly.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, though her heart fluttered in her chest despite her best efforts to remain indifferent. “Uh-huh, and that’s supposed to make me feel special?”

Azriel chuckled softly, leaning in to press his lips to her temple, soft and lingering. “It’s supposed to make you feel safe,” he said quietly, the playful tone in his voice fading for a moment. “And you are special, Y/n. More than you know.”

She looked at him, unsure of what to make of his sincerity. For all his strength, his power, his ability to overwhelm her with his presence, there was a vulnerability in the way he said those words that caught her off guard.

“Guess I’ll have to get used to that, huh?” she muttered, her voice softer now.

He smiled gently, pulling her closer, his wings folding protectively around them both. “Only if you want to.”

And apparently, she did want to. Because as they lay there talking about their future, the new chapter of their marriage, she couldn't help but wonder how it had all shifted so unexpectedly.

But it also made her realise something. Maybe they weren’t perfect. Maybe they didn’t have all the answers. But they had each other. And for now, that was enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#fanfics #acotar #fantasy #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel smut #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel angst

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maybeiwasjustjade · 5 months ago

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The High King theory truly makes me ill.

And knowing SJM and her obsession with making certain characters superior and/or have some kind of divine right to rule, I know she’ll try to make it happen at the expense of literally everyone else.

Moreover, I don’t see how it can happen without a major war. They just got out of 50 years under Amarantha, I doubt the courts are itching for another incompetent warlords’ attempt at HK/HQ.

Who exactly would bow to Feyre and Rhysand? The High Lords meeting showed that barely anyone tolerated them, nor did they have any actual allies that wasn’t Helion. And I doubt Helion would be so forgiving when he finds out about Lucien. Tamlin and Eris would never, so they’d have to die. Neither would Tarquin or Kallias agree, so that’s a given war with the Seasonal Courts. Dawn would stay neutral, or end up the rebel court. It really is the only toss up.

And even with Gwydion (which rightfully belongs to Nesta alongside the Trove) as some kind of divine symbol, feysand genuinely sucks at ruling. Conquer Prythian—yes, conquer because the other HL would never submit if they asked nicely—when they can’t even rule or play nice with their own people. Enough with the HK dreams, Amren; Rhysand would be lucky if Illyria and Hewn City don’t band together soon to stage a massive uprising.

(Y’know I’m not surprised nobody in the IC can empathize with the CoN citizens. They were all trapped in Velaris for fifty years, where they were free and the sun still rose. Imagine if they’d been UtM with everyone else; maybe then they’d get it. That life where even the sun and trees and anything worth living is out of reach at the whims of a dictator is no life at all.)

And I’ve seen theories floating around that the HK plot is set up for Nyx instead, because he’s destined to inherit all seven powers of the court. Yeah, that’s equally terrible. Divine right to rule and conquer is bullshit. Balance is something that should exist but doesn’t in Acotar. If it did, Feyre wouldn’t be as powerful as she is. 7 drops is not a lot of magic; so tiny and miniscule that each HL didn’t even really notice they lost it. It doesn’t make sense that she could go toe to toe with them with just a singular drop.

Which is baffling when the same author wrote ToG. Everything that was given was scraped together and fought for miserably, and even in all that power, they had to sacrifice so much. Aelin Settled and got her kingdom back, but at the price of losing almost all her fire and getting to keep one drop of water. Dorian still has most of his magic, but at the price of being made a demon slave, committing fratricide, and having the sole responsibility of redeeming his kingdom ala Zuko. Manon fulfilled the prophecy and united her people, allowing them the chance to return home for the first time in 500 years. All it took was losing the Thirteen, who would never see that dream come to life.

Nothing came without cost.

And while yes, Feyre deserved to be remade after her death saving Prythian, the amount of magic she wields is the issue. Nesta having so much magic made sense given she stole most of it; we have yet to really see how much is left. But where’s the balance if Feysand does end up HK/HQ, or Nyx does. What have they given up that makes them more worthy to rule the entirety of Prythian than literally any other character? Because I can argue that they’ve lost a lot lesser. Whatever rights feysand believes they have is no more than a lot of other characters.

And the bloodline of Theia? Yeah, I’m pretty sure the important ones are her female descendants, like Bryce. And Bryce gave Gwydion to Nesta for a reason. If SJM wanted me to believe Feysand was the best choice, she should’ve made Nyx be born full Illyrian. Or better yet, mostly High Fae but with no magic. That would’ve been a much more interesting story to follow, given that Nyx might not be the next inheritor of the Night Court. And what it would mean for the Hewn City. She’ll never do it of course, but it would be fun.

#acotar #acotar critical #sjm critical #feyre critical #rhysand critical #feysand critical #inner circle critical #anti feysand #anti feyre #anti rhysand #just in case to be honest #anti high king theory #tog spoilers

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theladyofbloodshed · 5 months ago

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@nerisweek Day 4 - NSFW

Rain pounded against the glass. It was made worse from the height. The House of Wind always did experience extreme forms of weather. It was a house made for storms. The steady rumble of thunder seemed to rattle the glass in the window panes.

‘He’s doing it on purpose,’ said Feyre, her arms crossed.

Rhys gave a low chuckle in response. ‘Do you think Eris Vanserra does anything without a purpose?’

Nesta had thought little of the Vanserra heir in recent months. Communication had been quiet for other reasons; Feyre had survived her son’s birth at the price of Nesta’s magic. She’d come through the Blood Rite relatively unscathed physically, but it had left marks elsewhere. Cassian bearing down on her with a weapon – even if he was controlled by the Crown – was a vision she struggled to shake off. They had not been intimate since before that day. Her body was repelled by him despite his attempts to find his way into her room at night. She could not picture his hands without imagining them around her neck. They hardly spoke at all.

‘You shouldn’t let him make demands,’ Mor said, scowling from her chair near the window where she sat with her ankles crossed upon the windowsill. ‘He’ll think he has power if he you give him wiggle room.’

‘If he wants to hunt down a suspected Made object then he can take Elain to sniff it out,’ added Cassian.

That rankled her. Elain wasn’t going anywhere near Eris, Lucien’s brother or not.

‘My sister is not a hound. Nor am I.’

‘I can go,’ Feyre suggested. ‘Nyx is feeding every few hours so I can winnow there and back in between.’

Rhysand trailed his fingers down her bare, tattooed arm. ‘How generous you are, Feyre darling, but Eris has been very insistent that Nesta should be the one to assist him.’

‘Eris can get fucked,’ declared Cassian.

Whether they liked it or not, Eris had the upper hand. Somehow, he had Keir eating out of the palm of his hand and they needed that sway to influence the steward of the Hewn City. He wanted only Nesta with him, claiming her brand of magic was what was needed. They had been reluctant to tell him that the fabled magic was gone. They had tried to bargain that Azriel would go as an escort but Eris claimed that any others would not be shielded and he was reluctant to allow more eyes into his father’s fortress.

‘Let us be done with this,’ muttered Nesta. ‘I am tired of hearing of it.’

Maybe one day she wouldn’t be used as a pawn.

***

The meeting was arranged quickly. A summons to Eris courtesy of Azriel and his power so that within moments he was in the Hewn City awaiting them. Nesta had not bothered to change into leathers or arm herself, much to Cassian’s frustration. She had not trained since returning from the Blood Rite; the idea of picking up a weapon made her sick to her stomach. The absence of her magic was a relief, despite what Cassian proclaimed. A lack of magic hadn’t mattered when she was dragged from her bed a second time and forced into the Blood Rite.

Eris had been insistent with his letters that no harm would come to her, she was merely needed to sense if a Made object was close in his father’s trove of treasures.

A tendril of Rhysand’s magic scratched its claw against the walls of her mind. She hated when he forced his way there. Hated knowing he was in her head, left to rifle through her thoughts and memories at his pleasure.

Take in as much as you can of the Forest House, he said. I want to know exactly what is in Beron’s treasure vaults.

Nesta was a tool to be used when Rhysand felt like it – and now, apparently, when Eris wanted her.

‘No harm is to come to her,’ warned Cassian, a hot, heavy hand clinging to her shoulder. It took every effort not to throw it off.

Eris, dressed in a suit the colour of scorched earth, gave a lazy grin. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. On my honour as a Vanserra, Nesta will come to no harm.’

There were another four or five warnings thrown his way which he took in good faith, smiling blandly and picking the sleeve of his jacket as though he was bored. It amused Nesta to a degree to see how unmoved he was in the face of threats from the Night Court. If anything, Eris seemed quite amused by it too.

A pale hand was extended to her. She remembered how it had felt on the Winter Solstice – like a glove that fit perfectly to hers.

Before she could say a goodbye, Eris had tugged her closer and winnowed. Magic swirled around them, the red flame of his power enough to scorch if she didn’t move closer to him.

There was no rain in the Autumn Court. A blustery wind blew through the thick woods, sending gold and amber leaves spiralling to the ground, but the temperature was mild. The sun shone in the sky as it began its slow descent for the evening.

Behind a set of gilded gates, the Forest House sat. It reminded her of the many manor houses that she’d visited as a child whilst travelling with Mother once she was of the age to join her pinched-face friends for tea.

‘The Forest House is smaller than I expected,’ she said bluntly.

Eris kept a grip on her hand as if she might disappear.

‘This is not the Forest House. This is my private residence.’

The gates opened for him as Eris tugged her through before they slammed shut again. She felt the seal of magic trapping them there, the wards fortifying and old.

‘You said you would take me to the Forest House.’

A smirk crept onto his face. ‘I lied.’

This male did not care. Lies spilt freely from his tongue. There was not a single soul in the world he cared for except his own.

‘Take me back,’ demanded Nesta, relinquishing her hand from his grasp. ‘Now.’

‘Are you so eager to return to the Night Court?’

Nesta could not give him an answer. She felt like an imposter amongst them. The court wasn’t home, merely a place she resided in because there was nowhere else for her.

‘You are wrong for this,’ she warned him, hurrying her steps to match his long strides. ‘When we return, I will ensure they know what you’ve done.’

Eris gave an unworried laugh. ‘Who said I will return you?’

When her expression slipped into confusion, Eris laughed again – this one different. It was warm and he’d tossed his head back briefly, before touching a hand to the small of her back to sweep her ahead of him.

‘I will,’ he promised, mouth tipped near the point of her ear. ‘When I’ve had my fun, I will return you.’

Rich wood panelled much of what Nesta could see inside Eris’ private residence. It was coupled with opulent paintings and thick rugs woven with red and gold threads. Yet it was quiet. A manor of this size should have been bustling with servants who’d suddenly go silent in the presence of their master. Eris kicked off his shoes, leaving them where they fell, then tossed his jacket onto a hook. He peered through the front window then remarked, ‘The dogs are outside. Should I let them in?’

Nesta was so taken aback by the sudden carelessness he displayed that she was momentarily silenced – and when she could speak, all Nesta could manage was a single utterance of, ‘Dogs?’

There were many of them – more than she could count. All of them dashed across the lawn or sniffed at the grass tracing Eris’s scent.

‘Come,’ he beckoned, curling his fingers.

As if compelled, Nesta stepped towards him. What was his game? Why bring her here?

‘I thought I was to sniff out Made items for you.’

‘Are you a hound?’

Nesta tried not to scowl.

An arm went around her shoulders, the touch too familiar from him. But he was warm. So delightfully warm that Nesta paused from throwing him off. Even as he tucked himself closer to her, Nesta did not fight him off.

‘Your shoes. Are they comfortable? You can be barefoot.’

Nesta felt as though she’d missed a step upon the stairs or that a conversation had happened without her knowledge as they walked through the long, central corridor of his home towards a room near the back of the house.

‘Are we going to your father’s vault?’

‘No. My father would never let me near it, much less you.’

‘Then why am I here, Eris?’

He pushed open a set of doors that led to a ballroom. It wasn’t as large as the one in the Hewn City; it was more suited to the sorts of balls that they had once hosted when her parents were wealthy where daughters were offered up like meat.

‘Our dance was interrupted.’

‘That was months ago,’ she said, dumbfounded.

The floor had been polished well enough to see part of her reflection and a great, glass chandelier hung in the centre of the ceiling. The waning evening sun streamed through the tall windows that lined one wall, catching on the dangling prisms, coating the room in scattered light.

‘I have not stopped thinking of that night,’ he admitted, voice cautious. ‘It was the first time I ever saw you smile.’

Nesta could not muster a response. It was likely the last time she had smiled without restraint, lost in the music and led by Eris.

‘I ask for a single dance,’ he said. ‘That’s all. Then I can return you.’

‘What’s the trick?’

‘No trick,’ Eris replied. ‘One dance.’

‘You made up a story to the Night Court, wrote to them for weeks, and offered all manner of incentives for my assistance. You lied and lied for a single dance.’

Eris didn’t have the decency to look at least slightly embarrassed. No, if anything, he seemed proud of the lies he’d spun. It would keep the Night Court wondering about what Beron could possibly have in his troves.

‘In fairness, it is difficult to find a good dance partner.’

The male had to be possessed. Normal males did not go to such lengths for a dance. And Nesta should have been repulsed by his schemes, but instead she found it oddly flattering that they were the lengths he’d go to for a single dance.

‘There is no music,’ she said, raising her chin indignantly.

Eris swept his hand outwards. A spiralling flame followed its path then the hairs on her arm stood on end. Sweeping notes of beautiful music filtered through the room as if the instruments were being played just beyond the doors.

‘You have music and a dance partner. I shall ask again: are your shoes comfortable to dance in?’

To match Eris, Nesta removed her shoes too and she suddenly felt so much smaller than him. His hand slid into hers, a second going to her waist as she settled a hand upon his shoulder. They moved to the music with little thought, their bodies reacting to each other intuitively. There was no awkward fumbling, no mistimed steps. They flowed together as easily as twin flames.

It was easy. Nesta did not need to think. Did not need to prepare a defence or hold a shield to protect herself. Eris was silent, leading her through song after song as their bodies moved across the floor, a muted, closed-lipped smile upon his pale face. When he lifted her, Nesta knew he’d hold her safely. On each spin, he was careful and restrained until they moved back into hold. And when their steps slowed, and her hand slipped down his back, and his moved lower, Nesta didn’t fight it.

A reasonable part of her warned her off of this. No good would come of dancing with Eris. They shouldn’t press their bodies so close. She never should have agreed to be alone with him in his court. But how could it be wrong when every part of her ached for him?

Their feet remained still as Nesta tilted her head up. Eris’ lips were a balm that soothed, but she didn’t want softness. She wanted desire. Wanted to be the match that set them both on fire.

Their kissing grew frantic. The fingers that grappled with his clothing were desperate. Eris took a knife to her bodice, carving it open with a sudden slash so her dress pooled around her on the floor.

The press of his lips was urgent and all-consuming like a fire that would never be sated. Nesta let herself be burnt by it. Let the flames of desire engulf her. The hands on her body were soft, reverent. Every pound of her heart was answered by his own. Eris kissed the new expanse of bare skin, treasuring each inch exposed to him.

His waistcoat fell to the floor then his shirt soon followed. The sunset bathed him in golden light. He was so warm and beautiful that Nesta stopped their kissing to press herself against him. She wanted to feel him. His body was rakish, not the well-built muscles of her mate, but more comfortable - softer and easier to fold herself into. Eris kept his hands covering her shoulder blades; a thumb tracing back and forth over the skin.

This momentary pause in their lust gave Nesta a moment to gather herself. What was she doing? Another attempt at self-sabotage? Nesta had a mate waiting for her in the Night Court. A mate who loved her. A mate who she hadn’t touched since he’d been under the Crown’s thrall. A mate who she couldn’t think of without imagining his hands around her neck squeezing the life from her.

How exquisite it was that Nesta could take something good and let her rotten core ruin it. Only she could find a mate and instead of the rare, unending love it offered, want to see it spoiled to give her a reason to run.

‘Nesta?’

‘I shouldn’t do this.’

But she made no move to pull away from the wicked heir of the Autumn Court. Her face remained tucked into the crook of Eris’ neck. It felt safer to stay there. Her soul was as broken as his.

His hand forced her head to raise so that Nesta could see her reflection in his eyes.

‘I will be burned by you,’ she whispered.

Eris pressed his lips to her forehead and inhaled. ‘Then let the flames consume the both of us.’

Her hand slipped down his body to the hardening length within his trousers. She pressed her palm to it, rubbing once, twice, until a hiss of air escaped from between Eris’ pursed lips. He tipped forwards, lips coming to her forehead.

‘I truly only wanted a dance.’

But Nesta was too far gone to reel herself back in.

They went to the ground together, his body covering hers as the music still played from a distant room. The last remnants of their clothing – her chemise and his undergarments – were discarded hurriedly until there was only skin between them. Eris kissed his way down her body, stopping between her legs.

‘If I told you that I’ve dreamed of this, would you believe me?’

Nesta pushed his head downwards. Her head rocked back as his tongue traced up her core.

This was what she did. Mindless sex to make herself forget. A deep-rooted need to sabotage herself. The Night Court was her home. Her mate was there. The mate that hadn’t come for her in the Blood Rite. The mate that had been so easily swayed by the Crown. A mate who’d have killed her.

She spread her legs wide, damning the consequences. Eris gripped her thighs, his fingers digging deep into the flesh as he licked a circle around her clit. Nesta got lost in it. Her eyes closed as Eris pushed his fingers into her sex. His techniques alternated based on the different moans that he elicited from her.

Breathless and flushed, Nesta curled into herself on one side upon their abandoned clothes. Eris’ steps faded as he departed. That was familiar to Nesta, to be used and discarded. Even her own mate couldn’t be bothered to spend a night beside her once he’d got what he wanted. She waited for shame to crawl up her throat from what she’d done yet none came.

Surprising her, light steps sounded upon the ballroom floor. Nesta braced herself for a servant who’d tell her to leave.

A full skin of water was settled by her head then a blanket tucked around her bare body. Eris knelt near her, still as bare as the day he came into the world. He flattened her disarrayed hair gently, face giving nothing away.

‘You are a very good dancer.’

‘I can say the same,’ she said, sitting up with the blanket pressed to her body. Nesta uncorked the skin of water and drank deeply, aware of Eris’ amber gaze on her scorched cheeks.

‘Call me greedy for not waiting until the Winter Solstice for another dance,’ he said.

Nesta could not muster a reply. The solstice felt so far away. When she reflected on the last one, dancing with Eris had been the highlight because she’d felt like herself again after so long. They told stories of his cruelty and schemes so what did it say of Nesta if her only joy was found in his arms?

‘I am not the villain you believe I am,’ he stated, as if he’d heard her thoughts. For once, he looked innocent as if a mask had been stripped away. A young male was beneath it, soft-eyed and curious as he waited for her reaction.

‘You do yourself no favours.’

‘And they do? Have you never wondered why Illyrian females still have their wings clipped? Or why Morrigan is the only dreamer in a city of nightmares?’ Eris laughed callously, the mask slipping back on. ‘I told you not to believe the lies they say about me. Perhaps I’d have been better off warning you about the lies they spin about themselves. Could the most powerful high lord in history really not enforce an anti-clipping law – or perhaps he values an army over the lives of females.’

Nesta forced down her emotions. She couldn’t say it was anger, because when she looked to Emerie’s ruined wings, she had wondered similar. Why weren’t Illyrian females offered a safe place in Velaris to heal and grow like Gwyn was?

‘You showed your heart in the Dawn Court – and it was enough to make my father pay attention, Nesta. You are wasted in the Night Court.’

‘Enough talking,’ she said, unwilling to face the truths she’d been running from. Too often those same questions had bubbled on her tongue. Once or twice Nesta had pressed Cassian on it and instead of being met with a calm discussion, he flew to the defensive and claimed she didn’t understand ruling or life in Illyria. ‘I didn’t come here to talk.’

‘Why did you come here?’ Eris smirked from the side of his mouth. ‘You can’t have believed I truly would take you to my father’s vaults?’

‘A release,’ she admitted. ‘A release from that court. I hate to be there. I cannot breathe when I’m there.’

The words rushed out of her before she could take them back and bury them.

‘Then let me be your release, Nesta.’ Eris kissed against the column of her neck. ‘How would you like it?’

His lips were tender making pleasure skitter over her skin.

‘Soft,’ she declared, to see if he could. See if he could resist the urge to pound in a frenzy until his own release took him. ‘Slow.’

Nesta had never been with a male who could put her needs first, who could put aside his own wants.

He lay her back down with the thick blanket beneath her to soften the floor then his body covered hers. It wasn’t suffocating, wasn’t heavy and imprisoning.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘When you are in the room, I can see no other. You are the flame that guides me.’

She opened her legs to fit him better between her thighs. ‘You hardly know me.’

‘I want to,’ he said, a hand gripping hers and pressing it above her head. ‘I dreamt of ways to meet with you. Not for this. Just to look upon you. To speak with you. To hear you.’

It couldn’t be wrong when her body was begging for him. The slick heat between her thighs made Nesta squirm upwards to feel his length. It made Eris press his sharp teeth into his lip.

‘Slow, you said.’

‘Slow,’ she agreed, but for every moment that Eris lay upon her, it was a moment that she’d have to explain away to the Night Court. The longer she was away, the more implausible her reason.

Eris took his length and stroked it between her folds.

‘Inside,’ breathed Nesta.

Their lips met in an urgent press and Nesta forced her tongue into his mouth. If she was going to burn, she wanted to be nothing but ashes. Let it consume all of her.

When Eris finally pushed the crown of his cock inside, she moaned into his mouth. It had been a long time since she’d been with a male who didn’t stretch her and sting on his entry – and she’d forgotten how pleasurable that first thrust could be instead of one that made her grit her teeth and wince through the pain. He was a careful lover with hands that canvassed her body and lips that only left hers to ask over her wellbeing. When he moved in her, Eris never hurried. Every thrust was slow and deep enough to have her body rising from the floor to press closer to him.

At the increase in his breathing, Nesta wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him in close. With a final thrust, Eris spilled himself inside of her.

They lay together, bodies tangles and soaked with sweat. The last light of the evening was fading, leaving a bruised sky in its wake.

She waited for Eris to run. To laugh at her for being so foolish. To mock her that she’d fallen for his trap.

It didn’t come.

Eris remained holding her tightly, kissing her face from time to time.

‘I can take you back,’ he murmured. His nose nuzzled against her neck.

‘You ripped my dress. I can hardly return naked.’

‘It was a very pretty dress too. I apologise,’ he said.

‘What am I to wear?’

Nesta was led upstairs to a tidy bedroom with little in the way of personal artefacts. In the large wardrobe, Eris held up a few dresses to examine the cloth against her complexion.

‘Your lovers’ dresses?’

A brief frown flashed upon his face. ‘My mother’s. She used to come here. They’re plain gowns, but should fit well enough to return you.’

Plain was an understatement. They were well-made from expensive fabrics with simple patterns that suited Nesta. The colours were those of the Autumn Court; rich golds overlayed with burnt orange and umber. Nesta had never even looked at such a colour, much less wear it.

‘You will need to wash,’ Eris reminded her. ‘Illyrians have noses like smokehounds when it comes to arousal.’

He led her to another room, a silent figure walking a few paces ahead. She wondered if he regretted it. Nesta couldn’t say that she did. The inevitable regret hadn’t come. Was unlikely to. There was nothing for her to regret. She had an immortal life ahead of her with a male who Nesta wasn’t sure truly liked her company. There was still so much of life that she hadn’t experienced – wouldn’t now.

This bedroom was neat in a way – the curtains tied back from windows, the surfaces clean – but it was littered with piles of books and stacks of letters that gave it a chaotic sense of disarray. A large map of Prythian had been pinned on the wall with notes written around markings on it.

‘Take as much time as you need,’ he said, opening another door that led to a bathroom.

For a while, Nesta stood stunned in the luxurious bathroom, not quite sure which Eris would greet her when she exited. He had seemed almost shy. She washed quickly, well aware of the darkness that had encroached. The dress, which she had been fearing to wear, fit like a glove. It brought a lightness back to her silvery eyes. She’d lost a couple of hair pins so abandoned her coronet in favour of leaving it down, the ghost of the braids leaving her hair in waves. She pinned back the strands from her temples to hide her ears.

‘This is an exquisite sort of torture,’ Eris mused as she exited the bathroom. ‘If I touch you again then my scent will be upon your skin. Then again, maybe art is there to be worshipped with the eyes rather than hands.’

With that, he entered the bathroom to wash her from his skin while Nesta stood bereft in the centre of the room.

Eris’ home reminded her of her life back in the mortal lands. It felt so familiar. She ran a finger across the top of a leather-bound book; a compendium of mosses across Prythian. She wrinkled her nose at it. Eris, it seemed, was full of surprises.

They waited until his hair had dried, sat by the silent fire in his rooms while they exchanged hesitant conversation. Nesta was meeting a different male. A quieter one who shared parts of himself with nervous reluctance. They spoke of the books he’d gathered and the map upon the wall, each minute had him shedding another layer of skin until she could see the person he was beneath. There was less cocky arrogance or cold calculation. Instead, Eris was clever and sensitive, listening to her few remarks about the similarity of his home to her old one with attentiveness.

‘We should go,’ he said, holding out a hand.

Hand in hand, he led the way back through the grounds of the manor – after warning the dogs away with their muddy paws – then winnowed back to the Hewn City. The Night Court’s leaders awaited them with nervous expressions. Cassian practically flew from his chair to scan her from head to toe.

‘Why is she in different clothes?’ Feyre demanded.

When Eris released his grip from her hand, she felt hollow.

He bared his palms to them, an irritating smirk on his lips. For a moment, her heart plummeted, believing it all to be another act to ruin her. She’d helped to ruin herself. Then, Eris said, ‘It turns out my father has more defences than I first thought. I am not such a bastard that I’d return Nesta to you covered in Middengarm wyrm innards.’

They looked to Nesta in confirmation. ‘I could not breathe without retching.’

‘I trust it was worth Nesta’s time,’ said Rhysand, violet eyes dancing between the pair of them.

Before Eris could speak, Nesta cut in. ‘I sensed something, but there was not enough time to trace it. I will need to return.’

Something sparked in Eris’ eyes. ‘I will collect Nesta in a couple of days. Who knows? Maybe she’ll take a liking to the Autumn Court.’ He gave a short, wicked laugh. ‘She wouldn’t even need to officially defect, since she isn’t aligned to any court.’

Cassian pressed a hand to her shoulder. ‘Nesta will join your court over my dead body.’

‘Do not tempt me,’ he replied. ‘Two days. Farewell.’

#neris

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months ago

Text

Mr Crown P4

Media - Morbius Character - Lucien Crown Couple - Lucien Milo X OC Reader - (OC) Anastasia Morton (Assistant) Rating - 18 + Smut - feeling up / ceo & Employee / fingering / forced orgasm / public sex / public fingering / public orgasm / pantiless Word Count - 3092

Lucien shifted in his seat, trying to focus on his food, but his mind was still on her. He couldn't help but sneak glances at her, his eyes tracing over her form, imagining her adorned in the jewels he was going to win.They ate in relative silence for a few moments, Lucien trying to maintain his composure while his mind still reeled from her promise. He stole glances at her, trying to stay casual, but the desire to touch her, to just pull her onto his lap and claim her, was growing harder to restrain. As they finished their meal, Lucien pushed aside his empty plate and leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her.

Once dinner was collected up the auction began, Anastasia took the pen to see who got closet in their guessing game,

Lucien's hands cam one on the back of her chair to wrap around her the other rested comfortably on her thigh, his fingers tracing soft circles on her skin as they watched the auction progress. He was only partially paying attention, his mind still on her and the promise she had made. Every so often, he would glance down at her, his gaze tracing over her features before returning to the action at the front of the room. He leaned closer to her, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "See anything else you like, darling?"

"Only one other thing" she cooed her hand coming down to squeeze his thigh

Lucien inhaled sharply as her hand squeezed his thigh, her touch sending a surge of heat through him. He chuckled softly, trying to keep outwardly cool and composed, even though her touch was driving him wild. He shifted closer, his lips against her ear again, his voice low and rough. "Only one, hm? And what might that be?"

"lot 101, the little ski lodge. I think it's cute not sure why someone's selling it"

Lucien chuckled at her choice, his hand subconsciously squeezing her thigh in response. "A ski lodge? Is my little assistant secretly a fan of winter sports?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement. He looked at the booklet, at the listing for Lot 101, the images of the cozy little ski lodge,

"no, I just like snow. It's cute log fires, hot tub, big fur-covered beds, it seems so warm and cosy' she chuckled not thinking for a moment he'd be taking her wanting it seriously

Lucien's smirk widened at her description. The more she spoke, the more he could picture it. Soft blankets, a roaring fireplace, a cosy bed covered in fur... and her, wrapped in nothing but the fur covering the bed. He could feel the desire stirring even more strongly within him. The thought of having her in that setting was too tempting to resist. He shifted closer, his hand still on her thigh, and leaned in to whisper in her ear "You really like the sound of that, darling? Maybe I should bid on it for you."

"Lucien. No." She said squeezing his thigh, "It's much too expensive and what are you going to do with it anyway?"

Lucien chuckled at her protest, his hand still resting on her thigh. He knew she'd object, of course, she was too practical, too sensible. "Don't 'Lucien no' me, darling. I'm a billionaire, remember? Price is no object." He paused for a moment, a smirk on his lips. "And as for what I'm going to do with it... I can think of a few ideas. All involving you, of course."

"Your going to buy a hundred thousand dollar ski lodge in Canada? Just because I think it looks cosy? It would stay empty most of the time anyway it's not worth it. Besides I'm more than happy with just the pretty jewels, even if you don't have to get me them either"

Lucien chuckled at her persistence. Of course, she would argue and insist there was no need to buy the cottage. She was always practical like that, even when he desperately wanted to buy her something extravagant. "Darling, you know I don't care about the practicality. It's not about the money, it's about the experience. The idea of having a romantic getaway spot, just for us. Somewhere where we can escape, just the two of us, in the midst of the cold snowy mountains. Doesn't that sound appealing?"

"it does... But neither of us even skis"

Lucien chuckled at her counter. His hand moved up her thigh, his touch becoming more intimate. "Darling, who said we'd be snowboarding? It's all about the ambiance, the setting. The skiing is irrelevant, the beauty of the mountains, the cosy, candlelit bedroom, the hot tub... the possibilities are endless."

"I'm not going to argue" she gave in,

Lucien smiled triumphantly, knowing he had won that battle. He knew she'd given in, even though she was probably only humouring him. But that didn't matter, the thought of having a private getaway with her was too enticing to pass up. He ran his hand up and down her thigh, his touch becoming more seductive. "Good. No more arguments then. I’ll have a cute little ski lodge, and I'll have my gorgeous assistant all to myself in her cute little jewels."

"Lot 75, set of ring, necklace, and bracelet from 1843. Donated by the fashion history museum. The reserve is at two thousand dollars" the heads of the gala explained "Do we have a bid?"

Lucien leaned forward, his hand still on her thigh. his gaze snapped up to the screen, his eyes narrowing in focus. He waited for the bidding to begin, his mind racing with thoughts of her wearing the jewels. He didn't wait long before raising his paddle. "Two thousand." Lucien's voice was firm, his paddle held high. The other bidders seemed to hesitate, some backing down at the sound of his voice. He didn't wait for a response, his gaze focused on the stage, his mind on the jewellery he knew she would look so perfect in.

a few small bids come through but no one really that interested "Lot 75, sold to Lucien Crown for three thousand four hundred dollars”

Lucien felt a surge of satisfaction as his bid was declared the winner. When the gavel fell, announcing his victory, he felt a rush of triumph. He turned to look at her, a sly smile on his face. "Looks like you'll be getting those jewels after all, darling."

"you didn't have to do that Lucien" she blushed

Lucien's smirk widened at her blushing. He loved seeing her flustered, the way she tried to remain composed even though he could see the effect he had on her. He ran his hand further up her thigh, his touch becoming more possessive. "I know I didn't have to, darling. But I wanted to. Besides, I know you'll look absolutely gorgeous wearing them."

"thank you Lucien" she smiled kissing his cheek as secretly as she could

Lucien's breath hitched as she kissed his cheek, the unexpected gesture sending a jolt of desire through him. He reached up to touch the spot where her lips had just been, his fingers lingering on the skin as if trying to capture the feeling of her kiss. "You're welcome, darling. Just promise me one thing."

"yes?"

Lucien leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. His hand moved up her thigh, his touch becoming more firm, more possessive. His gaze locked onto hers, his eyes dark with desire. "Promise me that you'll wear them tomorrow. And nothing else."

"I promise" She nodded before sipping her drink

Lucien felt a surge of desire at her promise, the thought of walking into his office tomorrow and seeing her wearing nothing but the jewels he had bought her was enough to drive him wild. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain control, his eyes roaming over her form as she sipped her drink. "You know, you really know how to drive a man crazy, darling. The thought of seeing you in those jewels, my jewels, tomorrow... I might not be able to concentrate on work."

"When do you?" She teased him

Lucien chuckled, his hand tightening on her thigh in response to her playful tone. He leaned in closer, his lips near her ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. "You cheeky little minx. You love teasing me, don't you? You know exactly how I react to you, you know how you drive me wild with desire."

she chuckled not confirming or denying it as she knew both would only tease him more, when attention turned once more to the auction as pictures came up of the ski lodge

The lodge was a wood, steel and glass modern style lodge in Canada, a large master suite with a fireplace, jet bath and walk-in shower, two smaller guest suites, a large kitchen dinner, an open plan living room with a large fireplace, a balcony over the mountains with a hot tub and sauna. All of it is impressive and beautiful

Lucien's eyes were drawn to the screen, his gaze fixed on the images of the ski lodge. His first thought was that it was perfect, the setting, the furnishings, the secluded location. It would be a private paradise, a perfect getaway for them.

He could already picture it in his mind, the two of them tucked away in the cozy cabin, the fireplace crackling, the hot tub steaming in the cold air. But then he remembered her practicality, her insistence that it was too expensive and impractical. He turned to her, his gaze watching her reaction as she looked at the screen. He could see the hint of desire in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she took in the luxurious interior. He knew she wanted it, even though she would never admit it out loud. So he decided to play his hand, to try and convince her that it was worth the price.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, darling? Picture yourself there, sitting in front of the fire, the snow falling outside, the mountains in the background..."

"it is nice" Anastasia answered,

Lucien noticed her hesitation, the way she was trying to hold back her true feelings. He knew her too well, knew that she was fighting against her own desires. He couldn't resist teasing her, his hand gently squeezing her thigh.

"Just 'nice'?" he repeated, his voice laced with mock disappointment. "I thought you'd be a little more enthusiastic than that, darling. Isn't it picturesque? Romantic? Exactly the kind of place where two lovers could spend a passionate weekend?"

she let out a long sigh half to hide her excitement breaths at his hand moving higher and the other half at the fact he may actually do this and buy it. "... It would be a very cosy place, and I'm sure Christmas there would be picture perfect" she agreed "but it's alot of money, it's far away, we have alot of work with the business, it's far from... Your doctors and it would be dangerous if something happened which one ice and snow could very well happen" she reasoned with him "But, I'm your assistant. It's your money Mr Crown"

Lucien smirked as she tried to reason with him, listing all the practical reasons why buying the ski lodge would be a bad idea. He knew she was right, of course. It was a lot of money, it was far away, and they did have a lot of work to do. But he could also see the desire in her eyes, the way her breath hitched as he touched her thigh, and he knew he had her almost convinced. "You make valid points, darling," he said, feigning concern. "But..." He paused for a moment, his gaze on the screen, looking at the images of the cozy cabin in the woods. He could picture it so vividly, the two of them snuggled up in front of the fire, the snowflakes falling outside, the view of the mountains in the distance… He could feel the excitement building within him, his desire to have this place growing with every second. He turned back to her, his eyes glinting with determination. “It is worth it, a little place just for you and me, and I would pay so, so much to get you alone somewhere so perfect. Our own little romantic paradise.”

"it's your money," she said

Lucien chuckled at her words, his hand giving her thigh a possessive squeeze. He knew she was humouring him, indulging his impulsive decision to buy the lodge. He didn't care, though. "Yes, it is my money," he agreed with a sly grin. "And I'll spend it however I damn well please. And if that means buying a cosy little ski lodge for my gorgeous assistant and myself, then so be it." his hand slipping up under her sill dress touching her even higher than the slit in her dress he got a wicked idea resting his hand there as the bidding began

"Shall we start the bidding at 130." Immediately bids came in of course from Lucien himself but each time the price went up his hand slid a little inch higher under her silk dress

Lucien chuckled huskily, his hand still moving higher up her thigh, his touch becoming more intimate as the bidding started on the lodge. With each raise of the other bids, Lucien's hand inched higher up her thigh, his touch becoming more possessive, more intimate. He could feel her body responding to his touch - the way she tensed, the way she took a sharp breath, the way her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before she quickly composed herself. He knew he was pushing the boundaries of propriety, and he didn't care. His hand stroked her thigh as he reached it rubbing his thumb hard against her hip bone, his fingers trailing across her searching for the strap of her panties but he didn't find it for a moment he was puzzled before her reactions became so obvious to him, he couldn't feel panties because she wasn't wearing any in that dress.

Lucien's eyes widened when he realized that she wasn't wearing any panties under her dress. The revelation sent a jolt of desire through him, his mind immediately imagining what else she was wearing under the silk fabric. He could feel her body shiver under his touch, her hips moving just slightly as he searched for the strap of her panties, only to find that there wasn't one. He let out a low, strangled moan, his hand frozen for a moment as he let the revelation sink in.

As the bidding began to slow, it seemed like Lucien was going to win the lodge. The other bidders began to drop out, the number on screen getting higher and higher. Lucien's mind was racing, his thoughts focused on one thing - Anastasia.

He could feel her body quivering under his touch, responding to the sensation of his hand under her dress. He could see her biting her lip, trying to maintain her composure in front of everyone. And he knew, in that moment, that he had to have her.

She coughed to cover a whimper as he moved his hand from her thigh to begin touching her mound, his smirk wide as he experienced the pleasure of a high adrenaline auction and that his assistant wasn't wearing anything under her dress, once he knew that of course he was going to take advantage, touching her enough to make her whimper "Lucien..." She gasps quietly

Lucien felt a thrill run through him as he heard her whimper, her breath catching in her throat as he touched her under her dress. He smiled slyly, his confidence growing as he felt her melt under his touch as he slid his fingers from her mound to her clit, "Shh, darling. Not so much arguing now, are you?" he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. He could feel her body responding to him, the way she pressed against his hand, the way she gasped his name. He moved his hand more deliberately and immediately found what made him smirk all the more as his fingers felt the softness of her skin and the wetness he caused there

"Lucien... Please.." she whimpers fighting a war with herself on if she should or shouldn't do this

Lucien chuckled huskily. He loved the way she whispered his name, the way she pleaded with him, her voice ragged with desire. "Please, what, darling? You have to use your words."

He moved his hand deeper, his touch becoming more deliberate, more insistent as he fingers circle her pussy and his thumb circling her sensitive clit and sending shivers through her body.

she gasped almost letting a moan slip out as her thighs shifted widening a little

Lucien felt her thighs widen at his touch, and he took it as an invitation to go further. He moved closer to her, his body pressing against hers as he continued to touch her intimately. "That's it, darling. Don't hold back. I want to hear you." He moved his fingers inside her in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. He could feel her body responding to him, the way she squirmed against his hand, her breath coming in gasps and little whimpers that she tried to muffle. He loved the sounds she was making, the way she was giving in to the sensations he was arousing. "You're so sensitive, darling. So sensitive and so responsive." his touch became more insistent, more demanding.

she almost squealed and he knew it was only a matter of time, and as it turned out not long at all

"Sold!" The auctioneer called out

Just as he did Anastasia tensed up grabbing Lucien's suit sleeve as she clenched and moaned into his ear just as everyone applauded concealing her noise as she reached her orgasm having to hide it on her face,

"The lodge, sold to Lucien Crown for 678 thousand dollars"

Lucien was barely aware of the auctioneer's words, the cheers from the crowd, or the sound of the next item being announced. His focus was entirely on her, the way she tensed up and grabbed his suit sleeve, her body shuddering as she came undone under his touch. As the applause filled the room, Lucien let out a low, satisfied chuckle, his hand still under her dress, his touch gentle and possessive. "678 thousand dollars well spent," he whispered in her ear.

"yes sir ..." She gasped leaning her head on his shoulder as she gasps her skin positively glowing from her orgasm,

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fallingintheforest · 3 months ago

Text

One of my favourite hc's I like to world-build is the idea that Lucien belongs to a super exclusive scholarly society.

It sounds dorky, but stay with me on this. This society holds access to powerful, protected texts long thought to be lost or forgotten. But the catch with this is that members are not able to use that knowledge for personal gain

There is no straight forward way to join. Instead, the group—or perhaps, the magic that binds the knowledge and rules within the society itself—chooses its members. Anyone can be selected—whether they are a high fae or lesser—because the magic doesn’t care about status; it cares about the worthiness of the individual to protect texts and their ability to contribute to the base of knowledge.

I imagine that Lucien was chosen by the magic when he was fairly young. I think that Lucien likely never told anyone about this, except perhaps Jesminda.

There is a way for Fae outside of the society to gain access to the protected texts, and that's through a bargain. The bargain that is required comes at a high price. Its never more than what a fae is able to offer but it's enough that most do not attempt it for fear of the cost required. Even more, the scholar summoned by the bargain can still choose to deny whether to provide the information if they find the seeker unworthy.

Now imagine, the HL's are in dire straits and decide to bargain with the scholars for information from a powerful text, then boom Lucien shows up like, whats good y'all??

#the way Beron would be spitting fire finding out Lucien hid that #lucien vanserra #acotar #Listen I just need more evidence of the fox of prythian in action #you cant tell me that that man doesn't love academia #oooh and also the identity of the scholars can't be revealed outside of the “information exchange”#i.e. someone that bargained for information can't then go blab about the identity of the scholar that showed up afterward #Also hc that Amarantha tried to bargain for info and Lucien denied her early on lol just to add more to why she fricken loathed Lucien

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writingsbychlo · 1 year ago

Note

What would you do if you were Azs mate and found out he gave you Elains necklace?

“That’s such a pretty necklace, where did you get it?” Feyre mused, her brows raising as she peered over the rim of her wine glass at you. It went a little quite in the room, your cheeks heating as the High Lady’s fingers brushed your skin where the small pendant sat.

Despite it having been almost two years since you’d met her know, far more since you’d found your mate in her family, it still surprised you sometimes to find yourself holding her attention.

“It is pretty!” Mor fawned, coming a little closer to admire it. “I must know the jeweller, I could spend a fortune on pieces like this!”

“You’ll have to ask Azriel, he gave it to me years ago.” You smiled at the memory, you’d barely been on three dates with him, before the bond had even clicked, and he’d gifted it to you to match your dress before taking you to dinner. You’d almost forgotten about it, hidden at the bottom of your jewellery box. Glancing around the room, pride shone within you toward your mate as everyone admired it. Everyone but one. Elain. A frown sat in her lips, brows pulled taut, and she seemed so deeply conflicted that a war was playing out on those delicate features. “Elain? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She whispered, head snapping up, but her lips pressed together more tightly than usual, a frown tugging at the corners.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She had less conviction this time, her voice weaker, and a ripple crossed over her features like she was cursing herself for it. The weight of everyone’s stare on her, now, seemed to make her snap. “It’s just— Azriel gave me that necklace, nearly half a decade ago.”

“He gave you one too?” You’d known about their dalliance, it had been a joke long ago that both you and Lucien had rolled your eyes good-naturedly at, but now it was confusing.

“No… he gave me that one.” She sighed, finally meeting your gaze, looking somewhere between scared and sorrowful. “He gave it to me on Solstice evening, and I gave it back to him the next day.”

You fingered the charm around your neck, lump swelling in your throat. “Do you… want it back?”

“Back? Gods, no, it’s yours! I didn’t—” Her eyes wondered further, that fear leaking into her voice now as she moved across the room to clasp your hands. “I don’t want that! It’s just, it reminded me of why I gave it up. I saw you. When he gave me that necklace it felt stolen. When I wore it I felt wrong, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw your face. I saw you in my visions before I ever met you, and I knew I wasn’t the one for Azriel! It’s just… I’m so happy with Lucien now, I couldn’t be any happier, but thinking back on old heartbreaks hurts. It killed me to give him up before I knew Lucien was who would make me happy, when I thought that would be Az. Looking at the necklace just makes me sad, and I never imagined he’d give it to you. Never. I thought he’d get rid of it.”

You clutched her hands tightly, willing her to see your empathy and not your anger, an emotion that wasn’t aimed at her. “I’m sorry, Elain. I didn’t realise it would hurt you, I had no idea.”

Unclasping it from your neck, you held it out to Mor without another glance.

“It’s all yours, Mor. Use it to find the jeweller, and then trade it’s value for something pretty. Get new necklaces, matching ones for Elain and I. And a set of earrings for yourself, it should fetch a fine price, even years later.”

Nesta chuckled into her drink, and Feyre only laughed at the glee on Mor’s face as she securely tucked it inside her bra for safekeeping.

“You’re not mad?” Elain pressed, and you shook your head, smiling.

“Not at you.”

She only have a relived sigh, parting after a second to return to her seat, and allow the rest of girls night to run smoothly. Your fingers brushed your bare neck once, your eyes rolling, before letting it go for now, to enjoy your friends’ company.

And you did.

The night went on for hours more, until Cassian arrived to collect Nesta, slinging her over his shoulder and jumping violently when she smacked his ass with a cheer.

Rhys came next, helping a wobbling Feyre to her feet and bidding you all goodnight with a charming grin.

It was Mor who had winnowed you home, to outside the townhouse you shared with your mate, her forehead pressed to your own with a wicked smirk as she made you promise to give him hell.

Stumbling into the house, still a little tipsy, you made your way towards your bedroom, a shadow meeting you part way and wrapping eagerly around your wrist, tugging you excitedly to the bedroom.

When you arrived, Az was sitting in bed, surrounded by pillows, and marking his page as he put his book down. “Hello, my love. Did you have fun?”

“Hello, my mate.” His brows rose a little, and you kicked your heels off half-heartedly, leaving them by the door as you stepped in further. “I had a wonderful time.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He grinned, patting the space beside him in bed. “I missed you, though.”

“I missed you too.” Across to your messy dresser you walked on shaky steps, opening the lid of your large jewellery box and beginning to take off the earrings you still wore. Another gift from Azriel. In fact, the box was teeming with them, and you hummed. “Az, come look at this.”

He was in bed one moment, and by your side the next, peering through shadows over your shoulder. “Your jewellery box?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?” He mumbled, and you shrugged, feeling him press a kiss to your shoulder, his hands ghosting your waist, before you were wandering away.

“Keep looking.”

He chuckled, but obliged, and you took the time to step into your pyjamas as he did. “What is it that I’m looking for?”

“Any other regifted piece of jewellery from past lovers that you want to remove before I get caught short again.”

Your hands fell to your hips as his head snapped up. Tan skin drained of colour, all playfulness melting away from him. His gaze moved, to your bare neck, to the box in search, before back to your gaze. “Your necklace—”

“Elain’s necklace.” You muttered, and his throat bobbed, shadows swirling low to the ground like a puppy with its tail between its legs. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I’m sorry! You— I didn’t— I’m sorry!” His hands flexed by his sides, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes. He sent a desperate tug down the bond, floods of love and sorrow and shame, and you turned back to look at him.

“Oh, relax, I’m not that mad.” His shoulders sagged only a little, but he didn’t stop the onslaught of love he sent to you across that tether. There was a question nagging, though, through the slight hurt and embarrassment, and your voice was weak as you asked; “Is there any more in there, though?”

“No, baby. Gods, no.” That pain was reflected on his own eyes now, and you shrugged helplessly, hugging your arms to your chest.

“I liked that necklace. You’re such a jerk.”

“I know.” He whispered, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new one! I just wish you’d… I don’t know, not let me leave the house in it! Or just gotten me a new necklace that day! I loved that memory, nobody had ever bought me jewellery before.” Azriel bought you plenty of gifts now, from every court and continent he travelled to, it was how that one had become so lost to time in the first place, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you, Az! You might be a dumbass but you’re mine and I love you. Of course, I forgive you.” He relaxed fully then, stalking across the room toward you with his arms out, ready to embrace.

Before he could reach you, you slammed a pillow into his chest, blocking his body from your own.

“You’re still sleeping on the couch tonight, though.”

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popfizzles · 6 months ago

Note

how much have you fleshed out the NPCs in your au?

I definitely have favorites 😅

Mac and Chip both have set personalities and some story to them! I gave Mac an entire family, you know what I mean! Chip has a gruff but gold personality, a job working at a sawmill, and hangs out with Mugman in passing. I also like Canteen Hughes being a very young, very bright character (very Tails from Sonic vibes in my brain).

Ginger and Buster, and Lucien have some vague ideas behind them. I never really fucked much with Isle 2 NPCs, but I liked the idea of Ginger being an ex of Mugman's, Buster being Beppi's apprentice, and Lucien knowing Boba (which is how Boba got his tutoring job).

Ludwig, Wolfgang, and Silverworth all have some story behind them too. I like Ludwig being an informant for a price, the guy who knows a guy; it makes me laugh to imagine Wolfgang as being very "calls women FEMALES" type of guy; and a semi-popular headcanon of Silverworth being some pompous fuck that gets his kicks picking on Cup and Mug.

I can go into some more miscellaneous specifics about these specific nine if you like!! :)

#Cuphead #Cuphead: Don't Deal With the Devil #Cuphead: DDWTD #CDDWTD #CDDWTD Mac #CDDWTD Chip #CDDWTD Canteen Hughes #CDDWTD Ginger #CDDWTD Buster #CDDWTD Lucien #CDDWTD Ludwig #CDDWTD Wolfgang #CDDWTD Silverworth #fizzles answers #anon #anonymous

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alina-dixon · 1 year ago

Text

A Fable

Pairing: Morpheus x Male reader

Warnings: violence, blood, captivity, fluff.

Requested: Yes / No

Part 1

A/N: The reader is the Hero from Fable 2! I really love the game Fable 2! So I thought why not? Have fun reading!☺️❤️

___

It's a cold winter day in Bowerstone, you and your Sister Rose are standing at a fireplace. You and Rose are homeless. You are only nine years old and your sister is fifteen. You were just trying to get warm, when suddenly something fell on your head and when you touched it you immediately knew it was bird poop! Your eyes went wide and tried to get rid of it while making a disgusted sound.

Rose looked weirdly at you while having her arms around her body to stay warm. “What was that? Oh! Yuck.” she said while taking a step back. When you stopped she put her arms back around her and so do you with yourself. “Well… That’s lucky. Like finding a four-leave clover. Although I think I'd prefer the clover.” her voice sounded a little awkward when saying that.

Then she looked at the castle amazed that stood in the center of Brightwood. “Look. little Sparrow…Castle Fairfax looks so nice in the snow. Imagine the grand dining hall. I bet Lord Lucien’s having roasted duck at this time of the year.” She ranted while you just kept quiet while putting your hands over the fireplace and listened to her ranting.

She put her hands on her hips. “But he must be really lonely since his wife and his little girl died. In that big castle, all by himself… If only we could live there.” She looked at the castle with a sad expression.

Suddenly there was the sound of loud cheering heard from behind the houses. “What is going on over there? Come with me, little brother.” she said while running in the direction of where the sound came from. So before you could say anything you followed her, but you were a little behind.

When you turned into the alleyway and went farther down you saw a man talking to your Sister, You saw him talking to her a few times back then. “Hello there, young Rose. You look hungry. Have you reconsidered my offer?” he said oddly nice but also very weird. You of course do know what he's talking about.

You approached them slowly. Rose had a disgusted and angry look on her face. “We’ll never be that hungry. The answer is NO!” That angered the guy. “You’ll be back. And I'll be waiting for Ya.” he said with an angered tone, then walked away.

Rose sighed and looked at you. “Come on, little Sparrow. Let's see what's going on.” she said as we both ran again to where the sound came from. Rose sighed again. “That filthy creep… I hate him.” she spat.

You finally arrived only to see a crowd around a taider. “Oh… It's just a trader. I can't see anything through the crowd.” She was clearly disappointed.

“A-ladies and a-gentlemen… I have traveled the land accumulating wondrous and mysterious objects! Which I now offer to you for the modest price of five gold coins!” he said proudly.

“Consider this. This is truly a magical mirror. For as long as you look into it, it will make you beautiful!” he said lowly. “I'll take it!” a random guy screamed from the crowd. “Very wise! Now just remember: the magic only works if you look at it in complete darkness.” He had a smug look on his face.

The trader turned to something that looked like a music box, but it was completely made of metal. “Ah, now this is truly a marvel.” he said smiling at it. “This small, unassuming box is actually a device created by the ancients. As was used by the old rulers of the kingdom themselves! Turn the handle three times, and you shall be granted a single wish!”

Rose looked unamused at this and scoffed. “There’s no such thing as magic!” she said and she thought that nobody heard it because they were busy watching the trader, but hooded women turned towards us. When you saw her eyes, you noticed that she was probably blind.

“We live in grim times indeed, if the young doesn't believe in magic anymore. Most children your age believe eagerly.” she said in a calming voice. Rose looked at her weirdly but you thought that she was right, only because you believed in it yourself. “Look, I can see your eyes are bad, but I'm telling you, that magic box is rubbish.” while she said that the crowd beside us was getting smaller and smaller until everyone was gone.

“That's what the seller thinks. He has no idea what he stumbled upon. But you have an inkling, have you? Some part of you wants to believe it's magic.” Her voice still calm as before, she turned around already walking away from us.

Rose looked looked at he women surprised. “What? You… you really think it could be?” she asked hesitantly. The woman stopped but only turned her head to the side. “For five gold coins, you could have your own answer.” Rose looks dumbfounded at her answer. “For five gold coins, we could eat for a weak.” Rose frowned.

The women started walking away. “Listen to me, Rose. At the end of the week you and Y/N would be no closer to your dream- no closer to the inside of that beautiful castle.” she started. ‘She, is right actually…’ is all what you thought to yourself.

Rose turned to face you frowning slightly. “What if it is real? I bet we could get five gold coins… and maybe this could be a way out of here, after all. What is there to lose, little sparrow?” she sounded confident. I smiled at her. “Probably nothing!” Rose laughed then nodded. “All right! Come on, there must be someone around here who will pay us to… do something.” with that we went around town to earn some money.

After about half an hour we finally had our five coins to buy the music box! Rose and I went back to the trader. The Trader Murgo looked at you smiling. “Hello children.” he said happily. Rose and I smiled back at him. “Hello, we’ve come to buy the music box.” she started still smiling.

I walked towards the man held my hand in front of him showing him the five coins. “Very wise, little ones! Go ahead and turn the handle- but mind you go somewhere quiet, like.” he smiled at the both of you. “Okay thank you! Bye mister!” you waved at him. “Let's go make our wish, little Sparrow!” she said excitedly, as you both started walking back to your little stay.

You put the music box onto a box wooden box that was around half of your height. “Alright turn the handle!” Rose was a nervous as you started to turn the handle. “I wish… I wish…” After she said her wish the box opened and started glowing in a bright golden color. A beautiful sound was playing but then the music box started rotating and the music got faster, the golden color was turning red and then all of a sudden, the music box lighted up in a bright golden color and disappeared right in front of our eyes!

You and Rose we're shocked. “But… where did it go? Why are we still here? Five gold pieces… Let's just go to bed.” she sounded sad and disappointed. You yourself were sad at this, but still you followed her. “Oh. I was so sure this was it. I had this feeling like… that we weren't going to be stuck in Old Town anymore! Why didn't the box take us with it?” she still sounded sad but tried to push it aside. “Come on, Sparrow, go to bed.” so you both lay down to end the day. “Good night! Love you big Sis!” you said turning to your side. “Good night. I love you too, little Sparrow.” and with that, you both went to sleep. You only hoped that tomorrow would be a better day, and Rose won't be sad anymore.

It was still nighttime when Rose woke up to the sound of footsteps, scared that it could be a thief or something like that. She carefully opened her eyes and stood up, and when she saw who it was she was relieved, I was only the guard that they helped to earn some money for the now gone music box. “What do you want?” asked Rose the guard curiously.

The guard cleared his throat. “I work for Lord Lucien, miss. And would very much like to see you in his castle. I've been sent to collect you.” With that, he walked away, and Rose walked up to your sleeping form. “It did work! Our wish came true! Come on little Sparrow, wake up.” So you opened your eyes and stood up still a little tired. “What's happening, Sis?” you asked her with a yawn and rubbed your eyes.

Rose smiled brightly at you. “Everything is fine. We're going to Lord Lucien’s castle! Now come we have to go little Sparrow!” she said as she ran in the direction of where the guard went to wait for us. When I ran after her I saw her standing with a few guards waiting for me.

“Let's go to the castle!.” Rose said happily, and so we were guided to Castle Fairfax. “What do you think does Lord Lucien wants from us?” I asked her confused. “I don't know, but we will find out shortly, Little Sparrow.” she said looking to at the big doors of the Castle.

The door was open and an old-looking Butler stood there waiting. “Evening. Jeeves. Here are the children Lord Lucien asked for.” he said proudly. The Butler smiled at us. “Excellent!” was all that he said to the guard, then turned back to us. “Hello, young masters.” This confused you but you ignored it. “Hello, sir.” both you and Rose answered politely.

His smile tightened and turned around. “If you'd follow me please.” he said and started to lead us into the castle. We look up at this castle every day and think how nice it is. We both do. But inside it's even more beautiful than I imagined.” Rose told him dreamily. Jeeves chuckled. “It's quite wonderful, isn't it?” it was more of a statement than a question.

Then we saw a man walking past us. “Ah, hello. Master Garth.” Jeeves greeted still walking while the other male said nothing. “Huh, Man of few words.” He led us further into the castle. “Where is the grand dining hall?” Rose suddenly asked curiously. “Oh, in the north wing. Lord Lucien hadn't been there since… Since the tragic deaths of Lady Fairfax and little Amelia.” he told us as we claimed some stairs and further down the hall. “Oh, I heard. That was so awful.” Rose’s tone was sad. Jeeves nodded. “Yes, he misses them terribly.” Rose raised a brow. “So where does he eat?” Jeeves looked at her. “Actually, he takes most of his meals in his study. He's in there working all hours, doing research...” You frowned. “What does he research?” you asked him curiously. “History, mostly. Lord Lucien is quite keen on antiquities of all sorts, but he is chiefly interested in things relating to the Old Kingdom.” Rose nodded understanding. “There was a Trader in Old Town who said his stuff was from the Old Kingdom.” Jeeves nodded. “Yes… yes, I believe Lord Lucien… heard about that.” he told us hesitantly. We were standing in front of some big doors now. “We bought a piece of it and we made a wish and now we're here!” She smiled brightly.

Jeeves smiled again. “That's wonderful. Now, when you meet Lord Lucien., you must show respect at all times. Address him as “my lord.” Speak only when spoken to.” he told us, You and Rose nodded. “Yes sir.” she awnsered shortly. Jeeves stood in front of us “And do not mention Lady Fairfax or Amilia.” he said a little more sternly. Jeeves opened the door to the study. “Here we are. Lord Lucien? The children are here.” Jeeves informed as me and Rose walked in and the door closed right behind us. ‘I don't like this’ is all I thought as I tried to push a weird feeling away.

Lord Lucien turned towards us. “Children. It's come to my attention that you have some sort of magic box. May I see it?” he asked looking at us curiously. “It vanished m’lord. We were winding it up, and we made a wish, and then it started to glow and it disappeared.” she said sadly. “After you used it?” is all he asked. Rose nodded. “Yes, m’lord. The man who sold it to us said it was magic.” Lord Lucien looked a little interested.

“The box is of no interest to me, what's remarkable is that you were able to use it. What was your wish?” he then asked. Rose gasps a little scared. “Well, speak up… what did you wish for?” he asked nicely. Then she looked up at him confidently. “To live in a castle… like this one.” Lucien smiled. “Perhaps that could be arranged. I working to rebuild… well, I'm working on something wonderful, for which I need individuals with particular talents. Let us find out if you have them. Would you kindly stand in the circle, please?” Rose looked at him nervously “Erm…” Lucien Looked at her reassuringly. “I promise, it won't hurt you.” This made my weird feeling grow but Rose still obliged and stepped inside the circle, while you still stood at your spot behind Lord Lucien. Behind the circle were also very big colored windows.

Suddenly the circle started to glow in a bright blue. “What's that?” asked scared. “Nothing to worry about.” Lucien answered. You looked a little scared at the circle. Lord Lucien looked at me with reassuring eyes. “Go on. Stand in the circle.” Then Rose looked at you. “It's all right, little Sparrow. Don't be afraid. It doesn't hurt.” Her tone was soft. So you made a quick nod and stepped into the circle.

When you stepped inside there was some sort of a blue glowing wall. You were trapped. Lord Lucien stood in front of you, his face was full of shock and relief. “It's true. Your blood… you are Heroes.” This of course shocked you and Rose. “Heroes? You mean like in the old stories?” she asked amazed. Lord Lucien then tried to touch the barrier and it sent some shocks to him. “Ah!” he screamed out pulling his hand away and holding it. When this happens the circle suddenly starts to glow bright red. “What are you?” he asked angrily as he walked to a table with many papers and a book on it.

He started panting. “Wait. There was, there was something here…” mumbling to himself. “M’lord, what happened? What's that light?” Rose asked seemingly scared. “Quiet! You're heroes… but you're not any of the three…” he would us while looking through the papers. “What's happening?” asked terrified as Lord Lucien suddenly pulled a gun out. You froze as he suddenly pointed it towards Rose. “This isn't what I wanted… but nothing must stand in my way.” he said darkly. Rose looked even more terrified now. “No, wait. Don't! Nooo!” she screamed in agony, but it was too late he pulled the trigger and she fell to the floor. Tears were now streaming out of your face as you realized what happened, You looked at your now dead sister but you still couldn't move, you were to terrified.

Lucien then pointed the gun towards you. “I can't allow you to live either. I'm sorry.” is all that he said. You pulled your arms in in front of you as you backed away towards the window. And then he shot you which made you crash out of the window onto many roofs before crashing into the street.

When you laid there on the street you barely moved Your fingers. You then heard footsteps and a voice. “Death is not your destiny today, little Sparrow… Y/N” You knew that voice… it was the blind woman from the market. Then you felt how you were picked up into her arms, then you blacked out cold.

Suddenly you woke up to a familiar face it was the woman she had a dog with her that licked your face. It was the dog that you and Rose rescued once. Then time went by fast you reached out for the comfort of the dog’s warm fur, ready to take your first steps in a new life.

Ten winters blanketed in Albion, ten summers filled the air with the sounds of insects and laughter. With time your pain turned to strength. Your grief became will. A will to change the world. And to avenge the death that haunted your every dream.

Now you are 19 year old. You got your revenge for your sister with the help of the other three heroes.

Hammer is one of the other three heroes. You and her were taking a walk with Theresa. “Today is very beautiful, it's not too warm and not too cold! So it's the perfect weather to take a little walk.” Hammer breathed out with a satisfied smile. “Mhm” You nodded in agreement.

“How about we go into town and eat something? My treat!” Hammer asked. “Seems like an nice idea.” Theresa agreed. “Yeah sounds good to me!” you cheered happily. “All right, let's go!” Hammer said while laughing at you, so does Theresa.

So when you were halfway there about to reach the town something felt off as you three talked to each other. Suddenly you noticed your surroundings started to glow. “What's happening?” Hammer asks confused with a little hint of worry. “I don't know!” you answered back. “I feel magic behind it, and it's not yours. It's not good either…” Theresa said as you all stopped. Then the wind started to get stronger, the glowing got brighter, and started to circle around you very fast. You put your arm over your eyes to see something but the sight was getting less by every second that passed.

You, Hammer, and Theresa started to panic. “Help me! Please!” you begged inside the glowing mist. Hammer with half tears in her eyes looked at you then at Theresa panicked. “You have to do something. What's happening to him!?” Hammer screamed. “I can't do anything. This is way against the skills I have.” She said trying to sound calm. “What-” Hammer was about to say something as the mist disappeared, and you with it. Hammer stood there wide eyed. “What happened? Where is he? Theresa where is he!?” She screamed as she fell to her knees. Theresa walked to her side putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “He will be alright. He will find his way back home.” Hammer was in tears as she looked at her. “You think so?” she sniffled. Theresa nodded. “Let's go home for now.” Her voice was even calmer now. Hammer nodded because she knew that Theresa was right.

Far away in a mansion in America was a Man. Roderick Burgess, he and other people stood in a dungeon under the house. They were a cult and Roderick Burgess was the leader of them. They stood around a summoning circle. They spoke in Latin, then the circle started glowing.

Right next to them was Morpheus held captive. He saw what they were doing. He laid there motionless watching them. As they summoned something, or someone. Then a little explosion was seen above the summoning circle and a bright glowing was there but when it vanished, there was a boy lying on the floor unconscious, on his belt was a well made sword and on his back was a crossbow.

“Take his weapons! And his clothes!” ordered Burgess. One of the cultists stepped towards you and bowed down to grab your sword, and another one grabbed your crossbow, then two others came and started to undress you, which led to you opening your eyes. “Oh, you're awake. Let's talk about business then.” You only glared at Burgess but stayed silent, you were now fully naked. “My Name is Roderick Burgess and I want you to be my personal guard, and hear on every command I give you. If you accept, you will get your stuff back. But if you don't, we will put you in a cage and you will rot in there until you die or eventually give in and accept.” again you stayed silent and didn't respond. Burgess let's out a disappointed sigh, then he nodded at the others and walked away.

While you were put into the glass ball you saw a another male that was also naked, in the cage next to yours. He was tall, and skinny, had black hair and bright blue eyes that stared right into yours as you now laid there.

Out of nowhere, Burgess stepped right in front of your view. You looked at him but didn't dare to move a muscle. “I have that you will rethink about my offer. Even if you don't want to, in the end, you will starve and start to beg for it. I hope you're smarter than this.” then he left again.

When he and everyone left it was only you and the other caged male. You both starred at each other again, only that you didn't really look at him because you thought about Theresa and Hammer, and the fact that you miss them and only wanted to get out of here and back home. Your eyes started burning so closed your eyes and silently let the tears slip.

Morpheus watched you as the tears slipped out of your eyes, but after a short while they stopped, and then he noticed that you probably fell asleep, which was probably better that way, is all what Morpheus thought.

The next day you opened your eyes and sat up slowly. Right now you tried to stay calm so you closed your eyes again. And while sitting there you felt the other males eyes on you but you ignored it.

Then Burgess came in and walked in front of Morpheus's cage. Two other people sat in the back playing a game. Burgess held himself on the cage. “The woman who lives with me has gone and robbed me of my fortune. She’s also robbed you. She's taken your helm, your sand, and your ruby.” this made you open your eyes and look at them. “Now I can unlock this, you can go after her…” Morpheus looked up at Burgess with a glare. “If you give me what I've been asking for. Wealth, youth, immortality. Oh, your a god. These things are nothing to you. Don't you want your weapons and freedom? Just like you Hero?” Burgess said lowly looking between the two of you.

So when you and the male in front of him didn't answer he got impatient and angry. “Speak to me! Speak to me! Speak to me!” he screamed and banged his stick against the glass, which caused the male to flinch shortly. A boy came walking from behind. “Come on! Speak to me!” he screamed again. “It's all right, Father.” the boy put his hand on his shoulder tho stop Burgess of what he was doing. ‘That asshole has a kid?’ is all you thought.

Burgess pushed him away. “Get away from me! If you were any kind of son to me…” he told him as he held the stick in the air and lashed out to the boy, but he dodged it, but hit him with the second one. The boy grabbed the stick so they both held it and faced each other. “If Randell was still alive today-” Burgess was cut off by the boy. “If Randell were alive, he would hate you as much as I do.” he said with hatred, and pushed Burgess back as he tried to attack the boy again, which led him to lose his balance hand his head hit the cage.

Burgess let the stick fall hand put his hand on the back of his head and saw blood when he looked at it, then he fell to the ground, with a big wound on the back of his head.

The to other man and the boy rushed to him. “Sir?” one of them said in panic. But when the boy put his hand on Burgess’s head as he saw a pool of blood leaping out of the wound. You and Morpheus only watched the scene. “You won't get out of there. Never.” Burgess looked at You and Morpheus one more time, then his eyes closed. “Sir can you hear me? Sir?” one of the male askedand tried to shake him but Brugess didn't answer. He was Dead.

The boy looked shocked and looked at his father as he sat there on the ground. “He isn't moving. Is he…” one of the males said. “He's dead.” the other one answered as the boy stood up, Looking at his bloodied hand and back to his dead father.

The Boy stumbled away a few feet but stopped between our cages. He stopped at the cage of the other male and turned to look at him. Morpheus stared back at him and slowly stood up, Your checks got red as you saw that but you wanted to see the interaction.

Morpheus reached his hand out. ‘He’s probably asking him to open the cage.’ is what you thought. The boy turned his head a bit as he reached out too. “Don't do it, sir. He’ll kill us.” one of the males said. “What would your father say?” the male spoke again, Before the boy's hand touched the glass he stopped and put his hand back down, and looked at the ground.

The male in the cage looked disappointed, as the boy looked back up. “I need to think.” he said and looked at the other male then to you, then he left. Morpheus also had put his hand back down watching him leave.

You were angry, but still, you stood up slowly wich made Morpheus look at you. You were a bit ashamed because you had no clothes on but you pushed that aside as you both looked at each other. You held sadness in your eyes as you slowly reached out and put one hand flat on the glass. Morpheus did the same while staring into your eyes. When you looked at him you immediately felt safe.

Then nine months later the door to the Dungeons door was heard which made the guards stand up and open the gate. Alex and also another boy came in. “How are they today, Rogers?” Alex asked. Rogers sighed. “Moved his hand this morning. Right hand. And the other one is also just sitting there but didn't move.” Alex nodded, as the other boy walked in. He had a look of shock on his face and gasped. “Oh, my God.” he looked at Alex and back to you and Morpheus. “Alex?” he asked.

Alex then walked in looking at the both of you. “Hello. This is my friend, Paul.” he told you as they walked further in. “Paul, these are our unwilling guests.” he said looking at his friend shortly.

Alex was getting a little nervous. “Look, we've been talking, Paul and I, and if I let you out, will you promise not to harm us?” he asked calmly while looking at us. You both didn't move not answered his question. “If you could just speak to us.” Paul said a little nervous himself, but again silence.

Alex looked at Paul. “You see, I told you.” he was a little disappointed. “I'm telling you, you have to keep trying. Show them that they can trust you. Show them that you mean it.” Paul softly awnsered back.

Alex nodded at us. “I do mean it. Just promise that you won't hurt me or Paul, and I will let you out.” Alex tried to reason. But again we didn't answer. We just looked at them this time.

Almost eighty years later you had developed feelings for the Male in the cage next to you which was weird because you didn't even know his name, but little did you know that Morpheus also grew feelings for you.

Also the guards started to change every now and then until they looked very modern. And you, you were still looking young and didn't age which you thought was weird and not normal, but Alex was old now just as Paul was, they both married year's ago. They were in the dungeon again. Alex stood in front of Morpheus's cage and had his hand on the glass. “I could have asked you for wealth or Power, and protection, like my father did. But all I wanted was to be free of you two.” He said softly.

You and Morpheus looked up at him. “Surely you want that too.” Paul walked into view pushing a wheelchair in front of him. “Alex, darling, please.” he said softly mentioning to the wheelchair. Alex put his hand away from the glass and sat down in the wheelchair, Paul's hand on his shoulder. He looked at us one more time. “Take me upstairs, Paul. I won't be coming down here again.” is all that he said as Paul started to push the wheelchair, and now there was a gap in the protective circle. Paul stopped a few feet away and looked back seeing it, then he looked at us and made a small nod. He then around and and left with Alex.

Morpheus looked at the gap and wondered why Paul would do that, but in the end it doesn't matter, he can free himself and you now and that's all that matters to him right now.

So when they got out, and the door to the dungeon closed, it was only two guards left inside. “Old Dracula here’s not moving an inch. Just like the other weirdo.” the Female guard said quietly, looking up from her book she was reading. “Why do you call it Dracula and weirdo?” The male guard said tiredly while looking up from his newspaper. “Because I think they are. What do you think they are?” she asked quickly.

The male sighed. “I try not. You know what I think about?” he asked her, again looking up from his newspaper. “Majorca. Four days… and I'll be on a beach. Stinking of suntan lotion.” he said and smiled to himself at the thought.

Morpheus leaned forward holding himself on the glass while glaring at the guard. And you were just watching. “Lucky bugger. I was on Corfu on holiday once.” the female guard told as the other one yawned and fell asleep. Suddenly something weird starts to happen as Morpheus stares at the guard. The guard stood up from his chair and shot both of our cages and they started to break. You sat there wide eyed. “Fred!” the female guard screamed.

She ran towards him to stop him. “Fred, stop it! You'll… Fred!” she screamed but it was too late Both of your cages exploded into many pieces and our surroundings were glowing. You and Morpheus got out of your cages. “Don’t move! Stay where you are!” the guy called Fred screamed. “What… what's he got in his hands?” the female screamed. You looked at Morpheus and saw that he had something in his balled fist but you couldn't see it.

Morpheus slowly put his hand up where he held something in it right in front of his face. The guards already had their weapons aimed at us. “Oi! Open your hands, now!” she screamed at him.

And so he opened his Hand and you saw him blowing some sort of sand towards them, which made them instantly fall asleep. You were watching the scene curious. But then all of your strength suddenly left your legs and you fell to your knees right next to Morpheus with a thud. He instantly looked at you and kneeled down to your hight.

He slowly put his hand on your cheek and his eyes looked at you softly. “I'll get us out of here.” he said and his tone was smooth but very deep. You melted into his hand and nodded at him. Then he slowly picked you up bridal style. Your arms around his waist as you were sucked into the glowing. You… you were getting your revenge now.

Then in a room a black cat came in and sat on a chair in the middle of the room. There also came Alex into the room he looked young again and he curiously looked at the cat with his head tilted to the side. Suddenly the cat disappeared and Morpheus sat on the chair and you stood beside him both fully clothed as you looked at Alex darkly. “Hello” Morpheus said.

Alex was scared you could see it in his eyes. “It's... It's you two. You're… you're free.” he said quietly. “We are.” Morpheus simply awnsered as he stood up and the wind started to blow through the open window. “And have you any idea what it was like? Confined in a cage for over a century?” he asked as he slowly walked towards Alex. “Do you understand the damage you've done to your world?” he asked again. Alex was more then just scared now, he was terrified. “I'm sorry. I… I didn't know. Please.” he said backing away a bit.

Morpheus looked at him unbothered just like you. “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift.” when he said that Alex turned to a little boy. “I give you this, the gift… of eternal… sleep.” when he finished the sentence he blow some sand in Alex’s face and he fell asleep.

Morpheus looked looked back at you holding his hand out. “Let's get out of here.” That's all you needed to hear and took his hand as he teleported you both.

A voice was heard. ”Sir. Sir.” It was the panicked voice of Lucienne. “Oh, my goodness.” she kneeled down to turn him onto his back. “Sir. It's me!” she panted as she saw his eyes opening. “It's Lucienne.” she said as Morpheus looked at her and started to smile and took her hand. “Lucienne.” he whispered weakly. “Your home, my Lord.” and that's when Morpheus started to frown. When he looked beside him he noticed you weren't there. “My Lord? What's wrong?” she asked worriedly.

Morpheus started to stand up. “A boy, he was held captive. Just like me. I brought him with me.” He said as he started to look around. Not even a minute later he saw you laying a few feet away from him, and he immediately sprinted towards you with Lucienne. “A Human? Why was he held captive?” she asked confused. Morpheus shook his head as he turned you around and saw you breathing normally. “He is not fully human, it seems. Because he didn't age for almost a century. The man who held us captive once called him Hero.” Lucienne looked at him baffled. “Do you think he is one of the three heroes? My Lord?” she asked. “I don't know.” is all he awnsered as he gently put a hand on your cheek which made you open your eyes.

When you saw him you started to smile. “Your safe now.” Morpheus said softly as he helped you off of the ground. You looked around and saw the woman with pointy ears and smiled at her. “Hello, jung Man.” she smiled back at you. You were a little scared to speak because you didn't talk since you were held captive, but you decided to still try it. “H-Hello.” you said but your voice didn't sound raspy or broken as you thought it would be. Morpheus and Lucienne smiled at you. “Thank you, for taking me with you…” you started but you trailed off because you didn't know his name.

Morpheus smiled softly at you. “My name is Morpheus. And this is Lucienne.” he told you. “Thank you, Morpheus. And my name is Y/N.” you smiled at both of them.

You started walking over to very huge gates on a massive wall. On those big gates were some pictures in it it looked well made. It made you look at them amazed with your mouth wide open. Morpheus looked at you and chuckled. “You like them?” he asked which made you blink before realizing, and looked at him. “Yeah! I-I mean they look astonishing!” you smiled at him nervously.

Morpheus then raised his hand and touched the gates, they began shaking and started to open up. “Forgive me, sir, but… the realm, the palace… they are not as you left them.” Lucienne said as Morpheus looked at her. Morpheus looked through the gate as it opened. His look… he was shocked with what happened to his Realm… his home.

You, looked shocked too, even if you didn't know how it looked like before. You saw the dead trees and bushes, the land looked like as if it was completely dead. Then you saw that a piece of the roof from the half destroyed castle fell down. “What happened here? Who did this?” He asked not daring to look away from his destroyed home.

Lucienne let out a sigh. “My Lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to… decay. And crumble.” she looked at him sadly as he looked back at her. “And the residents? The Palace staff?” Morpheus asked with a little hope. “I'm afraid most have… gone.” she looked at the ground. “Gone?” he asked rising his eyebrows. “Some went looking for you.” she looked back at him. “And the others?” He asked walking in front of her. Lucienne looked back down to her side, then back up. “They thought, perhaps, you'd grown weary of your duties and…” Morpheus stopped her. “What? Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me?” he asked in disbelief.

Lucienne didn't know what to say. You on the other concentrated on the view that was in front of you, as the conversation went deff on your ears. You slowly started to move away from them and towards the destroyed landscape. You felt welcomed even if the view in front of you didn't look welcoming in the first place. You closed your eyes whilst you took in the fresh air.

Lucienne looked towards you, which made Morpheus look behind him and he sees that you are walking away from them. When suddenly they saw some tears rolling down your face, when you turned your head sideways.

Lucienne looks worried. Then you felt a hand on your shoulder which made you open your eyes and look at the person who's hand was on your shoulder. It was Morpheus. You look at him puzzled. “Y/N?” Morpheus asked. “Yes? Is something wrong?” you tilted your head. “You seemed lost in thoughts. What's wrong?” he asked softly. “Didn’t notice that! I'm happy to be free again and out of this tiny cell in that weird Dungeon… Aaaand I'm probably a little tired after some sleepless nights.” You laughed awkwardly while scratching your head.

Morpheus nodded. “How about a little sleep then?” He asked while rising a brow. “Hmmm, no. Not before I helped you rebuild your realm!” you said grinning and put your hands on your hips. “But if you want to help him, you will need your sleep.” Lucienne reasoned. You humed. “You're probably right. Okay, I'll sleep once we’re there.” you smiled. Morpheus nodded again. “Let's go shall we?” you nodded at his question and walked beside him.

When you arrived at the castle, Morpheus turned towards you. “Come with me, I show you where you can sleep,” he started as you part ways with Lucienne. “Can I ask you something, Morpheus?” you look at him. “Of course. What do you want to know?” you thought for a short second. “I wanted to know who you are besides Morpheus, you know?” you asked nervously. Morpheus smiled and made a small chuckle. “I am an Endless, Dream of the Endless to be exact. People also call me the Sandman. Also we're here.” he said opening a door to a bedroom that was still intact. When you went inside you saw that the room was painted in black, but it was held simple.

You pulled your shoes, coat, and shirt off. When you sat down on the bed, Morpheus follows you and stands in front of you. “Who's room is this?” you asked looking around. “It's mine.” he simply answered. Your head shot into his direction while standing up. “I didn't know. I can sleep on the floor too.” you tried to say as he already put a hand on your shoulder and sat you back down. “It's alright. I told you to sleep, didn't I?” you looked baffled as you nodded at him. “Now, lay down.” you did as you were told and pulled the covers over you.

Morpheus kneels down to your height, and holds a closed hand in front of his face, which makes you realize what he was about to do so you stop him. “Wait!” you said which made him raise a brow. “Yes?” he asks while looking into your eyes. “We can share the bed if you want! I mean if it's okay with you…” you said shyly. This catches Morpheus off guard but he starts to smirk slightly. “If that's what you want. I will. But I will go and talk to Lucienne shortly, then I'll be back.” he says and you give him a closed-eyed smile. “Yeah, I'll wait.” Morpheus gives you a nod as he stands up and leaves the room grinning to himself.

About ten minutes later he returned. “I'm here now.” he says and you simply nod at him. So he pulls his shirt and pants off but leaves the boxers on. He walks over to the empty side of the bed and gets under the covers. You both stare at each other until you slowly fell asleep. Morpheus smiled at your peaceful sleeping face as he slowly touched your cheek with his hand. Then the next second, you had your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “Good night, Y/N.” Morpheus had a small smile on his face as he laid his arms around your body.

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