#prequel project by moe

[kiyasepicverse]

A prequel to "Tragedy Wives" in which Moe decides it was finally time to make Rumi her wife.

With Katsuki and Izuku as guest stars.

❤️‍🔥🐇

[yibennianyaji]

MAKE THIS HAPPEN – Sayo Yamamoto’s Mad Max

Remember when the news broke out that we very nearly had an anime prequel to Mad Max: Fury Road? And then remember that other time we all deeply regretted clamoring for supplemental material about Furiosa and the wives, because there was that eye-gougingly horrendous comic that came out? And we were all left feeling simultaneously angry and sad, but then we watched one of the best action films of the past several decades and felt better again? It’s amazing how such a spectacular film can have such difficulty when it comes to other people trying to throw in their interpretation.

Now, one can argue that Fury Road’s success is largely down to the decades George Miller had to think about it, meaning he only returned to his series when he felt he truly had something to say and thus poured all of his energy into presenting a deeply realized world with minimal exposition and a mountain of unremarked upon worldbuilding. And the fact that it’s so deeply felt and personal a project might mean that we’re forever doomed to have lousy Mad Max material (by which I sort of mean Furiosa, much as I loved Tom Hardy’s performance) if it comes from anyone other than Miller’s hand. But just for the sake of argument, consider with me: a Mad Max miniseries as made by Sayo Yamamoto.

Bona fides first. By far Yamamoto’s most famous work (other than Yuri on Ice) is 2012’s The Woman Called Fujiko Mine (I rather liked it, I don’t know if you noticed), but she’s also done guest directing work on shows like Samurai Champloo, Space Dandy, Gunslinger Girl, and Eureka Seven, with additional storyboard contribution to big names like Death Note, Attack on Titan (she designed that first end credits sequence), and Evangelion 2.0. And perhaps most importantly, her debut as a series director was 2008’s Michiko & Hatchin – a visually striking road trip that sneakily set its focus on the relationships between women while pretending to frame things through male characters.

Yamamoto, as I believe I’ve said to absolute death a time or two before, is one of anime’s most promising up and coming auteurs. Even with only three full series under her belt her work is sharp and easily distinguished, and connections between Michiko & Hatchin and Fujiko Mine have already begun to show hints of pet themes (a hallmark of any auteur, and their curse; there are X number of works to be had before you hit the height of saturation and must either retire, go in a totally different direction for at least a film or two, or become self-parody – see Hayao Miyazaki, Wes Craven, and Tim Burton respectively): sex as a weapon, women in control of their sexuality and sexual encounters, the demystification of nudity, a bit of a lurking background fascination with queerness (which blossomed and matured in Yuri on Ice), children abandoned by parents, hypermasculinity as empty performance, road trips as a central narrative device, and so on.

I expect you see where I’m going with these similarities. There’s no point in remaking Fury Road, but there’s more than enough thematic resonance to be had between this director and the ideas found in that film to say “wow, wouldn’t it be incredible to put them together?” And it would be an excellent stretch of skills as far as Yamamoto’s existing work too: perhaps as a reaction to the moe trend/general sexual passivity found in many of anime’s depictions of women, her work nearly always features female characters for whom sex is a consciously chosen and controlled part of their characters; given how sex is either of minimal importance or used to commodify human beings as of Fury Road (and particularly with a character like Furiosa, whose warmth and protectiveness toward other female characters discards the Bitchy Exceptional Chick stereotype and whose total disinterest in mourning traditional femininity raises her above the “woman playacting as a man/waiting for a man” bit of narrative nastiness – and who is also a character totally divorced from any particular sexuality).

it would be interesting to see Yamamoto’s feminist storytelling grow to include that bit more of varied female presentation. And given that both of Yamamoto’s full series have a fascination with cultures outside Japan while still retaining a not-quite-describable feel of a Japanese director, there would be room to grow there as well in a story where society has completely broken down (but is still colored by the ideas and remnants of the societal structure that came before).

Likewise, characters like the wives would be an excellent opportunity to discard the lens of focusing on male characters altogether – something in the wake of the Citadel’s recapturing perhaps, or a small look into The Dag and Cheedo’s relationship. Or, one could move away from the main focus of the film entirely, and take a look into what the Green Place was like in more idyllic times, during its slow decline, or what life might have been like for the remaining travelers before they were reunited with Furiosa. A full-on apocalypse narrative, with a visual designer from MadHouse or Watanabe’s stable to make the colors pop and the remaining human life feel vibrant against the slowly sickening landscape, could be a breathtaking sight. Yamamoto’s already an experienced hand with setpiece action as well (the roller coaster shootout in Fujiko Mine’s finale or the stalking highway assassin in Michiko & Hatchin), so both interpersonal conflict and hard action could stand represented.

Is all of this a pipe dream? Oh, without a doubt. Yamamoto seems to have taken after mentor Shinichiro Watanabe in terms of pacing her series directorial work, and while Fury Road didn’t do dreadfully at the Japanese box office (about $12 million, converted) that’s not even a sliver of the imaginations it captured worldwide. But I’m more enchanted with the idea – that a director whose work I deeply admire might both get the chance to work on another prestigious project (another, because Lupin III is quite the household name in Japan) that also manages to earn more than cult acclaim. And because I want her work to flourish and grow, and to be challenged by new thematic dimensions and character archetypes rather than settling into variations on the same old story over and over again. And, of course, because if we’re going to get a Mad Max anime I’d rather not have to bash my head into a wall at the idea of Furiosa becoming a second fiddle love interest (I love you anime, but boy do you have a lousy track record about that kind of thing).

[azrielsiphons]

Prequel: Azriel-Centric Stories Set Before ACOTAR (ch. 10)

This is a collection of interconnected short stories about Azriel’s life before any of the events of ACTOAR through ACOWAR.

CHAPTER 10: SHADOWS AND DARKNESS 

Make sure to read Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 4.5, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9

Read the follow up fic, Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same

Time Frame: 3 days before Rhys is made High Lord 

Summary: Azriel and Lena are finally alone. 

>>NOTE: Thank you for your support, friends. It has meant the world.

Azriel had never been happier as long as he had lived. Which was horribly inconvenient.

Sneaking around with Lena was one thing. That was easy, he lived in the shadows and she was darkness come to life. They excelled at stolen kisses behind doorways and brushes of their hands beneath the table. That part was fine. Wonderful, really.

It was when they weren’t hiding in the shadows that was difficult. When they weren’t even in the same room was the hardest part.

Because Azriel was happy. Not just content or resigned — but beautifully, blissfully happy. Lena brightened his every day, his every thought. He knew the bags under his eyes had receded, there was a lightness to his step that had never been there, and he laughed easier.

Mor had been the first to notice. She had asked him what drugs he was on and if he would share if they were any good.

Then there was Cassian. He had probably been the first to actually notice something going on, but had waited to ask. It was only when he had caught Azriel smiling to himself while thinking about the way Lena had inched her fingers up his thigh under the table at lunch that Cassian mentioned something.

Then of course there was Rhys. Rhys, who for all of his wits was as clueless as he could be when it came to his sister. Not to discredit him, no, Rhys knew his sister well and loved her dearly. They were best friends.

But Azriel was his brother. And Lena was his sister. And Azriel had a feeling that somewhere in that beautiful brain of Rhys’s he couldn’t actually fathom them being together in any way other than friendship.

The hickey under Azriel’s collar said something much different.

To deter attention and keep them both in the clear though, Azriel was being forced to act much broodier than usual. When in dinners, he made himself think of anything other than the female sitting beside him laughing at a bad joke from her brother. While training he zoned in especially hard, avoiding any and all eye contact from Lena and her ridiculously tight training leathers and wild gaze that drew him in every time.

It was torture. Blissful torture.

Lena on the other hand was doing fine. More than fine considering she hardly had to pretend at all. Everyone merely suspected that she was happy as usual to have her whole family with her for an extended period of time.

The sneaking around was fun and intense and an incredible turn on, Azriel wasn’t ashamed to admit that. But it also wasn’t enough — for either of them.

Two nights prior, while Azriel had Lena pressed up against the door of the storage room in Rita’s, trailing his lips down her neck and his hand beneath her sweater, she had asked him.

“When are we finally going to get away?”

Azriel froze, his hand retreating as he pulled away and met her eyes. There was a sort of sadness there behind all the layers of lust and desire. He sighed, laying his forehead on her shoulder and inhaling her scent. It had become like oxygen for his ever burning lungs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know this isn’t fair to you. You deserve better than a grope in a damn storage closet. I never should have—”

“Woah, woah,” Lena cut him off, chuckling as she pulled his face back to hers. “I love a good grope in a storage closet. But I just…” she hesitated, a rare expression of nervousness on her sharp features. “I want you. I want all of you. And you know, we can’t quite…”

Azriel tensed briefly before relaxing back into her arms. He leaned in and kissed her gently, trailing his hands down her side and feeling her groan against him.

She was right, they couldn’t have each other fully anywhere in Velaris, it just wasn’t possible. They had done plenty, but something and someone was always looming over them.

No, when he took her to bed it would have to be far away from Velaris. Somewhere they didn’t have to hide in the shadows or constantly have a shield around them.

“I’ve been working on something,” Azriel said as he broke away from her lips breathlessly. Lena looked dazed, blinked through a haze of lust up at him. “Give me a couple days and believe me…” He leaned back in and kissed beneath her jaw, his tongue flicking out at that one spot that he knew made her make a small sound in the back of her throat and her knees weak. “We’ll go somewhere where I can make you moan as loud as you want.”

Lena writhed beneath him, her hips pressing up against the bulge in his pants. He growled deep within his chest.

“Promise?”

He had made that promise two days ago, and now that the day had arrived that he was going to be able to sweep her away, he was nervous as hell.

Not nervous to take her to bed. No, he had thought long and hard about all the ways he was going to make Lena moan and he was greatly looking forward to it.

He was nervous that he wouldn’t pull it off.

Aeron had left for the Court of Nightmares that morning, muttering something about needing Keir’s support against the High Lord of Spring. Aeron was a cruel bastard, but up until that point he had at the very least he had refused to work with Keir since Azriel had found Mor that day in the forest. However it seemed as though his paranoia had overcome any small inkling of a moral compass in the male.

Rhys and Cassian were going out drinking that night with Mor since the three males were supposed to be going to one of the Illyrian camps to lead some training the following morning bright and early.  

Azriel and Lena were supposed to be joining them out drinking, and Azriel would be — at least for a short while. Meanwhile Lena would be with Wren, who at Azriel’s request had insisted they spend some quality time together. Even though Lena had wanted to go out, she could never deny her mother and thus acquiesced. That night her mother would give her a note that Azriel had written with the directions to a secret place he had gotten just for them.

Azriel kept thinking to himself that it was just the slightest bit too easy. That there must be something waiting around the corner to ruin this if the sneaking around and getting away was so simple. He prayed to the Cauldron that he was wrong. He had a feeling that the Cauldron didn’t listen to prayers all that much though.

Rhys was in a rare mood while they were out drinking, likely spurred on by how happy Lena had been for the past couple months — which Azriel took the smallest amount of pride in. When Lena was happy, everyone was happy.

“Everybody drinks!” Rhys shouted, slamming a glass down in front of Azriel. The seat directly across from him felt emptier than usual with Lena gone. Mor and Cassian were off somewhere flirting with who knows what kind of people. Rhys flopped down next to Azriel, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Why so anxious, brother?”

“I’m not anxious,” Azriel said anxiously.

Rhys laughed. “Those shadows of yours say differently. Missing my ever so lovely sister?”

Azriel hoped that Rhys was tipsy enough not to notice how he tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know what I mean,” Rhys drawled. Azriel froze, holding his breath. “You and Lena! The best of friends. You know I used to be so jealous of you, she looks at you like you’re a Cauldron damned hero all the time.”

Azriel finally remembered how to breathe.

“She loves you, Rhys,” said Azriel. “You’re her big brother. I think she’ll always believe you hung the moon in the sky.”

Rhys laughed weakly, leaning back in his chair, a rare look of vulnerability crossing his sharp features — almost twin to Lena’s.

“She loved that stupid story,” he murmured to himself, seeming to sober quite quickly. “I just wanted her to sleep, but she missed my mother, she was mad at the world that she wasn’t allowed to train in the camps or get the tattoos one day.”

Azriel only nodded, silent. He remembered that night well. Lena had been six years old, Azriel and Rhys and Cassian were just teenagers. They hadn’t even done the Rite yet. Wren had gone back to Velaris to see Aeron for the night and Lena was left in the hands of the trio.

“She was so mad,” Rhys continued, chuckling. “It was well after midnight and she just wouldn’t sleep. I told her that story about hanging the moon just to get her to stop whining and get some rest. But she wanted Cassian to take her flying, she wanted you to teach her about shadows, and she wanted me to…” He trailed off, looking down at his glass silently.

“She wanted you to be her brother, Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “She’s always hated that you had to be her father, too.”

Rhys’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at the words. Azriel wasn’t though. He was the only person in the world that Lena had confided that to and even though a part of him twisted for sharing the information, he knew that Lena would have wanted him to say it.

“And she’s older now,” Azriel continued. “And I know you still think you have to be her father since Aeron doesn’t act like it, but…” Azriel hesitated, the look on Rhys’s face telling him that he was hanging on to every word. “But you can just be her brother now. She takes care of herself fine, you know that. Just… be her brother.”

For the slightest moment, Azriel thought he saw silver lining Rhys’s eyes. It was gone in a heartbeat though and Rhys only nodded.

“Thank you, Az,” he said softly.

Just then Mor and Cassian came bounding back up and the moment was lost. Azriel hoped that his words had carried some weight though. Rhys deserved to relieve himself of the burden of being Lena’s father figure. And Lena deserved to have her brother back.

A few more minutes passed and it was just when Cassian threw an ice cube at Rhys that Azriel stood and said he had to leave.

“What?” Mor cried. “But you just got here!”

“I have some things to do.”

Cassian smirked. “And who might you be doing, brother?”

Rhys snorted into his drink — a reaction far different than what he would have done if he had known it was his sister that Cassian was alluding to.

The three of them all looked up at Azriel expectantly, likely waiting on him to say something vague but polite and then step away. Their eyebrows all shot up though when he only smirked and said, “She’s better company than you lot late at night.”

Cassian and Rhys howled with laughter while Mor only stared in shock — Azriel never talked about his lovers. Azriel couldn’t help but grin, laying some money on the table for his drinks before walking out of the bar and taking off into the sky.

As he flew, knowing Lena would be flying the same route in just a couple hours, Azriel couldn’t help but smile softly — feeling the wind in his wings and a lightness in his heart… it was changing him. The War had changed him in the worst way, but Lena was helping him get back to the male he had always wanted to be.

He only hoped that male would be worthy of her.

~~~~~~

The stars twinkled above Azriel as he stood outside, everything silent save for the falling snow and chirping crickets. It had been about two hours since he’d landed at the cabin. Not the domestic magic cabin that he, Rhys, and Cassian tended to get rip roaring drunk at, but his cabin. The one he had bought only the day prior.

The getaway spot for himself and the woman he loved.

Staring up at the stars, Azriel wondered if he would have the courage to tell her that night. That he loved her. He knew in his heart that there was no other word for it. Or likely that there was and he just didn’t know it. Sometimes even love wasn’t enough of a descriptor for what Azriel felt for Lena.

He just felt like there was something more. Something more that he felt for her deep down in his soul, in his very essence. Something that simultaneously terrified and enthralled him. He wondered if Lena felt it too — felt that tug on her heart every time they were together, that tug telling them that—

“Hey you.”

Azriel whirled, hand reaching for Truth Teller instinctively — not at the voice, but just at the fact that he was startled.

Azriel didn’t get startled.

Lena was grinning, hair askew from its loose hold and cheeks flushed. Azriel only stared, completely stunned.

“How did you—”

She silenced him with a kiss, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his. Azriel wasn’t startled by that at least, falling into her the way he had only ever dreamed of being able to. He held her tightly to him, grinning against her lips when he felt her shudder as his hands slid down her back.

“Got you,” she said breathlessly as they pulled away. Azriel looked down at her, pushing a strand of loose hair away from her eyes so he could see them fully.

“Yes you did,” he admitted. He took a deep breath, wanting her scent to wrap around him like it always did, but — “Why can’t I smell you?” He asked, somewhat alarmed. If he hadn’t been holding Lena at that very moment he would have thought she was some sort of mirage. “That’s how you snuck up on me, but… how…”

“I’ve been working on some new tricks,” Lena said with a nonchalant shrug as if it weren’t bewildering that she could shape her magic a shield so intricate that it blocked out her very scent. “I figured I would try it with you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you surprised.”

Azriel could only blink, once again knocked off his feet by the sheer wonder of her.

“You surprise me every day,” he said softly, taking her face in his hands and kissing her softly one more time. Lena hummed against his lips contently.

“That’s good to know,” she murmured. “But I think you win when it comes to surprises today.”

He was the one to pull back then, looking down at her with a smirk that set her eyes alight. “Did you find the place alright? I worried that—”

“I found it perfectly fine, Az.” Her voice was gentle as she ran her hands up and down his muscle corded arms. He brushed a snowflake away from her cheek. “Your directions were easy to follow. I was concerned at first that you were taking me to some cave in the woods since there was nothing else in your note, but this…”

Lena trailed off, looking behind her at the small cabin, smoke rising from the chimney. Azriel couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she sighed wistfully. Her standing there, beneath the night sky, with snow falling all around them... She was a dream. His dream come to life.

“It’s like a dream,” she said softly. “When did you do all of this?”

“A few days ago. It hasn’t been fair of me to keep you in the shadows these past few weeks.”

“Hey.” Lena whirled, placing her hand gently on Azriel’s cheeks. “Your shadows are my shadows. Where you go I go. Forever.”

Azriel smiled, turning and pressing his lips to her palm. “Where you go I go. Forever, I swear.”

If only that were true.

“Well come on then,” Lena said with a grin, grabbing both of Azriel’s hands and walking him backwards towards the cabin. “Let me see this secret getaway of ours.”

Azriel laughed freely, following after her as she darted off for the front door. He would follow her anywhere.

She bounded up the few steps to the front door, winking at Azriel over her shoulder as she stepped inside. She froze the moment she crossed the threshold, mouth parting slightly in shock. 

There were candles everywhere, no furniture save for a single chaise in the den and a table with two chairs in the dining room. The door to the bedroom was closed, but light from the fireplace flickered from the bottom of the door.

Azriel kept his eyes on Lena as she slowly stepped in, her bright eyes taking in every inch of the cabin. She gasped softly as she approached the dining room, a simple meal by candlelight set for them.

Azriel’s shadows were erratic as he nervously watched her, gauging her reaction. Had he done too much? Had he done too little? He forced himself to be quiet, to wait for her to speak.

“Az…” Her voice was barely more than a throaty whisper. She turned to face him, something akin to devastation on her face. “Az, this is… I…”

“Hey, hey.” It took him two strides to reach her, taking her face in his hands and wiping away her tears with his calloused and scarred thumbs. “This wasn’t supposed to make you cry.”

Azriel had seen Lena cry three times — when she said goodbye to he and Rhys and Cassian before they took the Rite, the night she saw Rhys with the ash bolts in his wings, and that very moment with him.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said through weak laughter, her hands coming up and clutching at Azriel’s wrists as she leaned into his touch. “It’s just… Az,” she met his eyes with so much emotion in her gaze it almost knocked Azriel over. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Azriel cocked his head to the side. Surely this couldn’t be the nicest thing. Lena was… well, she was Lena. She was the kindest, most compassionate soul he had ever met. It would take hell itself and maybe then some to break her spirit.

Not to mention she was the Daughter of the Night Court. She was constantly showered and praised and —

It was for all the wrong reasons. Lena had never had anyone do something for her just for the sake of doing it. Rhys, Wren, Cassian, and Mor — they all loved and adored her, of course, but had any of them ever done anything intentional for her? Purposeful? Meaningful?

Azriel felt a wash of shame as he realized how selfless Lena was and how little he had recognized it up unto that point. She constantly went out of her way to help every single one of them without ever asking or expecting a single thank you in return.

She wrapped Cassian’s hands before training because she knew he would always mess it up and hurt his knuckles. She showered Mor with quality time and chocolate anytime she had any sort of contact with her family. She communicated with Rhys mind to mind and helped him whenever Aeron ruthlessly questioned him over Prythian politics — something she had always been better at than him. She held Wren when she cried over her mate’s treatment of her children.

And Azriel himself. Lena was always there the moment he was back after a mission, questioning to a point, but always there to comfort. Always there to listen. Never once flinching from his scars, laughing with him and pulling him into the conversation or withdrawing with him to the shadows when things got to be too much. She would train with him for hours into the night and never once question his silence when the nightmares of the darkness and the flames were too much.

She was everything. His Lena. His sweet, kind, loving Lena. Giving all of herself away and smiling all the while. A serving heart and yet no one to serve her.

“Lena…”

Azriel had no other words other than her name.

Lena, Lena, Lena.

He could feel his heart trying to tell him something — begging him to listen, begging him to dive deeper, to feel more.

“Azriel, I—” Lena choked on her words, reaching up and tangling her fingers in his hair, pressing their foreheads together. The meal he had prepared was long forgotten, the space between them the only thing that existed. “I have to tell you something. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, for so long, but—”

“I know.”

Lena stiffened, her eyes wide. “You do?” Her voice was small — afraid, he noted.

“Of course,” Azriel said softly, his hands gentle on her skin. “But I need to… I need to say it first.”

Lena swallowed, trembling in his arms. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Lena, I…” She inhaled sharply, her mouth parting as her eyes fluttered shut. “I love you.”

The breath came out of her in a whoosh as her eyes opened wide. There was shock there and the briefest flash of… something else. Something even he couldn’t pinpoint.

“What?” She asked breathlessly.

“I love you,” he repeated. She was looking at him in complete shock. What had she thought he was going to say? “Lena I love you, you are… everything to me and I love you with all that I am.”

“That’s… you love me?”

Azriel was thoroughly confused. “Was that not… was that not what you were going to say?”

“No, no.” At the look on Azriel’s face she panicked. “No! I meant — Cauldron, Azriel, I love you too, of course I love you, how could I not?”

Azriel loosed a breath, his heart resuming it’s regular beating pattern as she said those words so casually, so true and genuine in such a Lena way of her — he knew she meant them, had thought them more than once.

She loved him. She loved him.

“I just…” She looked conflicted, her violet eyes churned with indecision. “It’s just that I…”

“Lena.” Azriel lifted her chin. “What is it? You can tell me.”

He could see the moment she searched his soul. Could feel it deep down in his bones as her eyes scanned his. He felt that corner of his soul being tugged on, but pushed it down, letting her strip him bare.

He could also see the moment she made a decision. Her shoulders relaxed, she loosed a breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them, there was sadness. Joy — but something within her was broken.

What had he done?

“Azriel,” she said softly, her hand moving to his temple. “My Azriel… You are…”

The corners of his vision seemed to go blurry, a fog coming over him. He blinked a couple times and it was gone.

A few strands of hair fell in front of Lena’s face that hadn’t been there before. He cocked his head to the side, reaching up and pushing them away. He wiped away another tear he must have missed before.

“I’m what?” He asked softly. Lena’s hand still rested at his temple, shaking slightly. “What, Lena? Tell me.”

Lena took in a deep breath, a smile taking over her face. “You are my best friend,” she finally said, though her voice shook. “And the love of my life. And I am Cauldron blessed to call you both.”

Azriel smiled wide, taking Lena’s hand in his own and raising it to his lips. His mind still felt a bit foggy, but he found himself thinking that it must have just been all of the emotions between them washing over him at once.

“I love you,” Azriel whispered, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “I love you.” He kissed the other cheek. “I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.” Finally, he pressed his lips to hers.

Lena sighed, falling into him. He caught her around the waist, pulling her flush against him. Her hands tangled in his hair, her grip tighter than normal. She kissed him as if she thought he was going to disappear.

He thought he might have felt another tear fall into their lips, but brushed the thought away as Lena moaned against him, her tongue brushing against his.

The dinner Azriel prepared lay forgotten as he lifted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom. He kicked the door open without ever detaching his lips from hers, laying her onto the bed and hovering over her as she frantically pulled at his shirt. He growled as she ripped it clear down the middle, surging for her lips as she shoved the fabric away from his shoulders.

They undressed each other quickly — normally Azriel took his time with his lovers, teasing them, drawing their pleasure out for hours, but he needed Lena then and there.

They could do slow later. They had all the time in the world after all.

Lena cried his name out as he ravished her with his tongue and fingers, bringing her over the edge once only to speed his pace even further. Lena screamed, her back arching beneath him as she climaxed once more.

And when he was finally inside her, finally joined to her in a way he had only ever dreamed of, he looked into her eyes. They were both sweating, Lena still breathless from his earlier ministrations, but her eyes were brighter than ever before.

And there it was again — those soul searching eyes looking deep down into his heart. She was looking for something. What, he didn’t know.

She grasped at his shoulders as he thrust into her, gasping his name as his hand moved between her legs in time with the movement of his hips. When she came, her magic flared out at least a mile. He came shortly after her, breaking the headboard behind her as he braced himself before falling into her, his head buried in her neck.

And as they lay together, both catching their breath and breathing in each other’s scent, she ran her fingers through his hair soothingly as he gripped her tightly to him.

He could live like this forever. Holding her, loving her, whispering in her ear all the reasons he adored her.

For that night though, he would settle on trailing his lips down her body once more, savoring the taste he wanted to be drunk on for the rest of his days.

~~~~~

He could feel her looking at him. He knew she wasn’t trying to be subtle — if she were, he would still be asleep.

“Lena.” He opened one eye and saw her sprawled out on his naked chest with her chin propped up on folded hands, looking up at him. She smirked.

“Yes?”

“You’re on top of me.”

“Why yes I am,” she said with a much more mischievous smirk. “I was last night as well. Several times, if I remember correctly.”

Azriel chuckled, Lena lifting her head as his shoulders shook. “And you were quite skilled at it as well.”

“Who would have thought?”

In a heartbeat, Azriel had flipped them over. Lena yelped, the breath catching in her throat as he rolled his hips against hers. She moaned softly, her back arching as Azriel lowered his head and trailed his tongue between her breasts.

“You’re a menace,” Lena gasped as one of his hands trailed up her thigh and danced around where she wanted to feel him the most. “Azriel…”

He only chuckled lowly, his lips pressing against that spot on her collarbone he knew drove her wild.

They didn’t untangle themselves from the sheets for the next hour.

“I don’t want to leave here,” Lena said softly as Azriel stood, buckling his pants. He looked over the bed at her where she was reluctantly pulling on a shirt. “I just want to stay here forever and pretend the real world doesn’t exist.”

Azriel walked around the bed, lifting Lena’s chin with his index finger and thumb, unable to help himself from chuckling at her pout.

“One of these days we won’t have to run away,” he said softly. “But until that day comes, this can be our reprieve. Our own little world away from the world.”

Slowly, Lena smiled. She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips against his lightly.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“And I love you.”

“When do you need to be at the camps with Rhys and Cassian?”

Azriel sighed, his hands wrapping around Lena’s waist and pulling her tightly to him. “Probably a couple hours ago.”

Lena’s eyes widened. “Azriel, my father will—”

“Relax,” Azriel cut her off with a chuckle at her look of sheer panic. “Rhys and Cassian think that I had a wild night with some random female. They won’t go calling in the infantry to look for me.”

Lena cocked an eyebrow. “You told them you were with someone. You didn’t lie, but... you didn’t tell the truth either.”

“Lie to my future brother-in-law? I could never.”

Azriel laughed, but Lena’s eyes softened, the corners of her lips pulling up slightly.

“Was that a proposal, Az?” She asked softly.

Azriel froze. “Well I — no, not a proposal. But one day.” Lena’s eyes widened. “If you’ll have me, that is. But Lena, I…” He trailed off, his mind flashing to a potential future that would never happen. “You must know that you’re all I want.”

Lena smiled, her eyes brighter and more sincere than Azriel had ever seen.

“You’re all I want, too.”

And as he kissed her in that cabin — in their cabin — he knew there was nothing in the world he would ever want more than her and her alone.

~~~~~

“I still can’t believe my mother helped cover for us,” Lena said with a laugh as she walked out of the cabin hand-in-hand with Azriel.

“I can,” Azriel said. “She would do anything to make you happy. Even go against your father.”

At the mention of her father, Lena stiffened, her boots crunching as they stepped into the snow.

“You know I’ll never understand it,” she said softly. “They’re mates. He saved her life, they’re equals, bonded in the most sacred of ways. And yet…” She took a deep breath, shaking her head. “He’s horrible. They’re a horrible match. I just don’t understand why the Cauldron would make them mates.”

“It’s biological.”

“What?” Lena snapped, her hand dropping from his as she whirled to face him.

“It’s all about reproduction,” Azriel said simply. Lena’s eyes only flared. “I don’t mean to upset you. I know your parents loved each other at one point, and perhaps still do on some level. But mating bonds — they’re all about what pairs can create the strongest offspring. That’s why you don’t see any same-sex mating bonds.” Lena only blinked. “Lena, your parents created you and Rhys, the two most powerful fae in Prythian.”

“That’s not…” Lena choked on her words, shaking her head as she took a step away from Azriel. “That’s not true. It’s more than that.”

“Lena I’m sorry.” He took a step forward and thanked the Cauldron when she let him take her hand once again and lace their fingers together. She wasn’t looking at him. “I’m just saying what I’ve observed. Mates always create more powerful children. And sometimes there’s love involved, of course. But… not always. That’s not what the mating bond is for.”

Lena inhaled shakily, finally raising her eyes to meet his. “You’re right,” she said weakly, forcing a smile. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Have I upset you?” He asked, his eyes searching for the truth behind the mask she was wearing. The fact that she was hiding her emotions from him and he was the cause of it cut to his core in a painful slash.

“No, no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m just overthinking. You’re right.” She smiled widely, a bit more sincere than before. “I’m sorry if I overreacted, I don’t want to ruin our time here—”

“There is nothing that could ruin our time here.” Azriel smiled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers hotly. She kissed him back hard, her hands pulling at his shoulders as if she were falling and he was her only anchor. When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping.

“Do you remember,” Lena gasped out suddenly, “When we went to the Summer Court? And we met with that seer?”

Azriel started, pulling back to look at her fully. Her expression was unreadable.

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“It’s just…” Lena bit at her lip. “I’ve been having dreams about her. About what she said to us.”

“Lena she was a con,” Azriel said firmly. “She was saying anything to scare you into giving her another coin to hear more. She probably wasn’t even a real seer.”

“Have you ever been around a real seer?”

“No, but—”

“Azriel she was talking about us,” Lena said quickly. Her hands were holding his forearms tight enough to leave bruises and her eyes were wide and afraid. “She said, ‘glittered hands press against the light only to burn with darkness.’ She could have been talking about my power, how it burns when I don’t use it every day.”

“Lena.” Azriel was worried now, he’d never seen Lena so afraid, so frantic. “Lena she was spouting nonsense—”

“‘When red stains white you must stand in the black of night. Chains of despair a monster will make, but while you remain in the shadows there is a tomorrow to be won.’” Lena breathed heavily, her magic radiating off of her and around them, never touching Azriel. He was silent. How long had that seer’s words been haunting her? “Something is coming, Azriel,” she whispered. “I don’t know what, but… I think it’s about us. She said ‘shadows and darkness, one and the same.’ How can that not be about us? ‘Wings of night so easily torn?’ Something is coming Azriel—”

“She could see my shadows and she knew that you were the Daughter of the Night Court,” Azriel said slowly, his scarred hands gently raising and resting on either side of her face. “She saw my wings, she could see the way that I looked at you. She was just picking up on cues and shaping lies, manipulating you. I’ve done it more than once on missions. You are fine, Lena. Nothing is coming. And if anything does, you’re more than capable of protecting yourself and you also have me, Rhys, Cassian, Mor — all of us. There’s nothing coming, Lena.”

Lena froze, swallowing. The fear was still in her eyes. “I wish I believed you.”

Azriel felt like he had been punched in the gut.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for being this frantic, I just have this awful feeling that—” She froze.

“That what?”

“That the future isn’t as set as we think it is.”

“The future is never set, Lena.”

“I thought it was.”

Before Azriel could say another word, Lena leaned up and captured his lips with her own.

“Go to the camps,” she said softly. “My mother and I are coming to see Rhys in two days, make sure you’re with him, okay?”

Azriel could only nod, dumbfounded. Lena kissed him once more, her hand resting over his heart. She pulled away and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent.

“I love you.”

A second later she gathered herself in darkness and winnowed away.

He only realized after she was gone that he hadn’t said I love you back.

~~~~~

Azriel and Rhys flew through the night sky hard and fast, and Azriel fought to keep from scowling. He and Rhys had been training a new unit together and hadn’t even realized how late they were in leaving to meet Wren and Lena. When they had, they’d both shot into the air without another word.

Now as they flew, Azriel rolled his shoulders as he felt something deep within him churning. Something… wrong. He shoved it down, but remained aware.

He smelt it before Rhys did.

For a moment, Azriel froze in the air. He almost started to fall, but then his instincts kicked into overdrive.

“Rhys—”

Rhys gasped, darkness flaring off of his wings as they both dove low to the ground. They flew just over the treeline and Azriel felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

Why could he smell her blood, why did his soul feel like it was being torn in two, why couldn’t he hear their heartbeats or their breathing if he could smell their blood?

The red was a stark contrast to the pure white of the snow.

Azriel hit the ground before Rhys did, several yards away. Rhys was screaming, cursing, digging his hands into the snow and searching for something — anything, he probably didn’t know.

When red stains white you must stand in the black of the night.

It was everywhere. Azriel fell to his knees, his mind not registering any of the pain. He registered nothing except the the blood seeping into his leathers and melting the snow beneath him. It was still warm.

Chains of despair a monster will make.

Rhys was screaming, and Azriel mindlessly noted that he misted half the trees around them.

Wings of night so easily torn. Kiss the sky while you can, my dear.

Her scent was still lingering, though fading quickly. He inhaled as much as he could but only felt numb. He didn’t feel it wrapping around his heart the way he had only two days ago. It had been agony to wash the scent off of her before he went to the camp, and now he regretted ever letting the water touch his skin.

Shadows and darkness — one and the same.

Lena was dead. And a piece of Azriel’s soul had gone with her too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

EPILOGUE

“Wake up, Daughter of the Night Court. Show me those famous eyes.”

Everything was heavy. Why did it feel like there was a weight on her chest, a knife wedged deep in her heart?

“Mother?”

There was a dark laugh.

“Not quite.”

Oh. That was right. Her mother was dead.

“No! Please, please let her go!” She screamed.

Make it stop, make it stop.

“Look at me,” her mother begged. She complied, shaking and sobbing, trying so hard to reach into that well of her power only to feel nothing as the chains cut into her wrists. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid, my sweet. You must be strong. You are strong. Tell Rhys—”

Her head fell into the snow with a thump that she was sure could be heard miles away.

“No… no, it’s not real,” she sobbed.

That dark laugh surrounded her once again. A female. “Oh I assure you, it’s very real. Now open those pretty eyes.”

“Rhys… where is Rhys, where is my brother?”

“Open your eyes and I’ll tell you everything.”

She inhaled deeply, tears streaming down her face. Why was everything so heavy? Why couldn’t she hear, where was her magic, where was she, where was her mother’s body, where was Rhys, where was—

“There she is,” the female crooned.

Lena opened her eyes painfully, seeing blood.

No, not blood. Hair. Blood red hair, surrounding her like a curtain as she looked up into the face of a smirking female — all sharp features and hate in her eyes.

“I’ve missed those eyes,” the female whispered, trailing her finger across Lena’s cheek. “Yours are just a shade darker than your brother’s though.” She made the observation as casually as a remark on the weather.

Lena gasped, feeling as though a thousand knives were cutting her at once as the blue chains strapped around her chest and legs burned into her skin and stifled her magic.

“Amarantha,” she hissed.

The female chuckled, brushing away Lena’s hair from her face. Lena thrashed as much as she could.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Oh my sweet pet,” Amarantha whispered like a lover, “I have so many plans for you.”

“Amarantha.” A deep male voice cut across the room and the female jerked away. Lena fought for breath, her lungs feeling as though they were being crushed beneath the chains. If she could just touch her magic, if she could fight against it somehow then—

“My King,” Amarantha said smoothly.

Lena froze, turning her head painfully from where she lay flat on her back on a stone table to see where the King of Hybern was striding in.

She’d never seen Amarantha or the King in person, only heard bits and pieces about them from eavesdropping on her father and brother’s conversations. But they were every bit as awful as she had imagined, all cruel eyes and sharp edges.

“You,” Lena hissed at the King, flinching as she felt the dried blood cracking on her face. “You sent those men to kill her. You killed my mother!”

The King and Amarantha only laughed. “I didn’t kill your mother,” the King said smoothly, stalking towards her. She hoped her fear wasn’t evident on her face. “That was all the Lord of Spring. Who is dead now, you should know. Courtesy of your father.”

Lena gasped. Her father had killed the Lord of Spring… that meant Tamlin—

“And you should be pleased to know,” the King continued, “That your father is dead as well. I heard from a little bird that you never liked him all that much anyway. I can’t blame you.”

Lena froze. How could all of this have happened so quickly? Her whole world was flipping upside down, everything was wrong — so wrong.

But where was Rhys? Where was Rhys?

“Your handsome brother is perfectly fine,” Amarantha said with a vile grin, picking at her long nails. “Well, other than his entire family being dead and being High Lord, that is.”

Lena couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air but nothing came into her lungs.

“You’ve been asleep for a few weeks,” Amarantha continued, leaning in close to Lena’s face. “The King has a new magic trick and we’ve been playing it on you. You’re his new pet after all, sweet one.”

Lena couldn’t even be horrified. She was only numb. She felt paralyzed as Amarantha twirled a strand of her dark hair.

Amarantha took that hair and pulled it — hard. Lena couldn’t even scream.

“So pretty,” she hissed. “We’ll be able to use that.”

“Amarantha,” the King snapped. She dropped Lena’s hair and let her head drop back to the table. Lena stared into dead space. “Leave.”

Amarantha hesitated, but complied.

“Well,” the King said softy, stepping up beside where Lena lay. “Now that we’re alone. I am sorry for your loss. But don’t fret too much. Everyone believes you’re dead, and the dead don’t have to worry about mourning, do they? Such a beautiful irony.”

Lena tried to mist him. She tried with all of her might. If it weren’t for those damned chains she may have misted the whole world.

“Such a shame. Had you been out of these chains when your father died, you would have surely taken up the mantle your brother did. Wouldn’t that have been a sight? The first High Lady in Prythian history. You would have been a vision.”

“I’m going to destroy you.” Lena spoke with deadly calm. Her heart was fractured, her soul in tatters. “I’m going to get out of these chains and rip you to shreds.”

The King only laughed. “No my dear, you are not. Because if you use your magic in any capacity that I do not sanction, your precious Shadowsinger will die.”

Lena’s mind filled with white noise.

“Oh yes,” the King whispered. “I know all about your relationship with your Shadowsinger. Your Azriel. Your mate.”

Lena wished that she had died alongside her mother.

“And you are going to be my new weapon, constantly at my disposal, or he will die. I’ve linked your magic to his life. You try to escape my service in any way using that deep, beautiful magic of yours, and he dies. You are my tool to wield now. But don’t worry my dear,” he stroked her hair back and she flinched, “They all think you’re dead. What have you got to lose?”

Everything, Lena thought to herself. I lost everything and still have everything in the world to lose.

“Now you’re going to be my special weapon,” the King said as if he were talking to a small child. “Only for very special plans of mine. And when I don’t need you, you’re going to sleep.”

He raised a hand to hover over Lena’s chest and she thrashed, lurching her head forward and connected it with the King’s nose.

He shouted in pain, jerking away from the table where she lay.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” she hissed. “I don’t need my magic to kill you, you cruel old bastard.”

The King punched Lena in the sternum so hard it cracked. She screamed.

“You’ll find,” the King hissed, “That my patience is very thin. You have two options, Daughter of the Night Court.” He spat the title. “You can either cooperate and have a dreamless sleep for however long until I need you next, or you can live in your worst nightmare for the next decade or so. Which do you prefer?”

Lena spat in his face.

“Very well,” he said, calmly wiping his face. “Have a good rest, pet.”

Lena screamed, thrashing against the chains as they burned her, fighting with every fiber of her being to stay awake, to touch her magic. She screamed for Rhys, for her mother, for Azriel, for everyone.

It wasn’t enough.

She fell into a deep, magic-driven sleep. The last thing she heard was the King of Hybern’s laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

LENA AND AZRIEL WILL RETURN IN SHADOWS AND DARKNESS: ONE AND THE SAME.

[jadenoryuu]

Fourth Day_ The (Calling) Baby Tooth

Chapters: 4/12 Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Danny Fenton, Ghost Raven OC, Tata the Ghost Cat OC, Ghost Dodo OC, Baby Tooth (Rise of the Guardians) Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, mention of bullying, mention of animal corpses due to cat "gifts", Extinct animals, Rise of the Guardians (2012) References, Sick Character Series: Part 11 of Haunted Drabbles, Part 34 of Eenie mini Tiny moe Chapter Summary:

We all know that Danny hates Christmas because of the Santa-Debate. ...So who was really the first Guardian of the Childhood Danny ever believed in? [Prequel of 𝕯𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖊𝖓: 𝕯𝖔𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖑𝖌𝖆��𝖌𝖊𝖗]

Day One: The Raven (in a pear Tree) Day Two: The (Turtle) Cat Day Three: The ("English") Dodo Day Four: The (Calling) Baby Tooth

[ya-riotreads]

By: Angie Thomas

Prequel to: The Hate U Give

Goodreads Rating:★★★★★

My Rating:★★★★★

Find a copy near you from a local library: https://tinyurl.com/rcs34hcz

Angie Thomas has returned readers to the streets of Garden Heights; 17 years prior to Starr taking on the injustices of police brutality and in light of BLM movement. Concrete Rose focuses on 17-year-old Maverick Carter as his life changes with the birth of his first child. Taking place around the late 1990’s, Thomas explores the trials of generational stagnation, societal and environmental pressures, and the challenges behind stereotypes from the perspective of a black boy and his transition into manhood. The main question and task Maverick is imposed with is: what does it take to be a man and what type of man does Maverick want to be for himself and his family?

The reason for the 4.5 out of 5 rating stems from the accurate portrayal of urban/ghetto/hood life, Maverick’s character growth, Thomas’s insights to teenage pregnancy from the male perspective, and the setup of character, situational and relationship foils. Anyone who knows where the “concrete rose” metaphor gained traction from will understand what this story and subject matter pertains to. For those who don’t, let’s provide a brief aside to talk about one of thee most infamous West side artist to live—being Tupac Shakur. After the death of Tupac Shakur, a publication of his poems was release as a book entitled by the included work, The Rose that Grew from Concrete. The poem and Thomas’s book details the life of an individual who is meant to fail due to the inequities existing in their environment which is comprised of their familial situation and the type of people existing in their community. Maverick Carter—the rose to Garden Heights’ concrete—is the child of former King Lord legend who is serving jail time, has a mother who works two jobs to make ends meet, and is in relations with the King Lords for protection and means of income. In the beginning of Concrete Rose, Maverick does not see any wrong in following in his father’s footsteps, believing that being a man is to protect your family—blood and gang. Although Maverick Carter does fail in terms of becoming a teen father, falling into drug sales, flunks out of school, and considers murder to avenge the death of his relative, Maverick does succeed in his life in terms of not committing to gang life by the end of story. Maverick succeeds in following the terms of becoming a present father to his children. The ways in which Maverick could have failed was to abandon his children and continue down the path of gang life, however, Maverick learns that true fatherhood requires a father’s presence and guidance. Rather than running away from his problems, Maverick steps up to the plate and takes responsibility of the situation he—as an individual—has placed himself and other’s in.

The portrayal of gang life and living within an urban setting, such as Garden Heights, is an accurate representation of how it is in American urban life. From an outsider’s perspective—i.e. someone not in a gang or even someone living in a more suburban community—Garden Heights is an area where it is undesired to be stuck in. Someone living within Garden Heights (i.e Maverick) knows where safe spots are during what time of day and what risks lie within certain areas. In terms of gang life, there does exist a ranking or hierarchical system members follow. Gang life, similarly, is a commitment for life. The means of getting out is a risk to anyone’s life. The gang assumes a departing individual will be a risk to the gang in the future as they may rat-out information to the police or switch sides between other rival gangs. Maverick’s leaving of King Lord operations, although a risk, is necessary for himself becoming a better person for Lisa and his children, as well as, becoming the father he didn’t have full access to. Similarly, Maverick’s action of leaving foils that of King and Iesha’s residency, which—later in The Hate U Give.

In terms of literature on teen pregnancy, majority of works tend to focus on the female perspective as society claims females have more to lose out on than males. Thomas provides a golden opportunity by writing Maverick’s perspective on being a teen parent. Maverick’s first child—Seven—was born from (a lack of a better term) one-night stand with Iesha. However, rather than disregarding the birth of Seven and the positive DNA test, Maverick does take responsibility in caring for his child. A stereotypical move that Maverick could have taken was not accepting ownership/responsibility of Seven and disadvantaging Seven further by forcing Iesha to keep him without regard. However, Thomas’s theme of family keeps Maverick from going down that path. With the conception of Maverick’s second child with Lisa (someone Maverick sincerely loves and cares about) tests Maverick’s responsibility a step further based on Lisa’s preference to how she want to raise their child. With Seven, Maverick is still connected to King Lord life and imposes the risk of Seven falling into his footsteps in the future. However, with the second child and Lisa’s demands, Maverick must move passed his pride and become more than what gang life has imposed him to become—his father, not a dependable father figure. The male perspective of teenage pregnancy also nods to the concept of family building and parenting being a cooperative effort between both parents. Although our patriarchal society frowns upon men taking on child-rearing or any other “female designated” tasks, Thomas takes incentive by presenting a functionally learning and adapting male catering to the growth and development of his child. Thomas takes the opportunity to level the playing field between male and female pregnancies by having Maverick obtain losses female characters (i.e what Iesha would have endured had she possess a supportive family unit and this been her story) typical would experience during a teen pregnancy: grades falling, monetary insecurity, and a close to nonexistent social life.

Throughout the book foils exist EVERYWHRE. They exist in Maverick’s parents’ parenting in relation to his own parenting efforts, they exist between Lisa and Iesha’s stances and roles of motherhood, they exist between social expectations between Lisa and Maverick in terms of who was likely to become a teenaged parent and who was not, they exist between King and Maverick—which plays out later in The Hate U Give—as Iesha becomes pregnant again with King’s baby—these are only the ones that most forefront in my head, however, all are important as they push and pull against the stereotypes projected upon black people. However, my personal favorite foil is that of Maverick and his father as it leads to my favorite quote in the book coming from Mr. Wyatt in form of a question, aiding Maverick making a correct choice for himself.

““Because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?” Mr. Wyatt asks. “However, it can roll away from the tree. It simply need a little push.”

Maverick is appreciative of his father and the ability for his father to guide him when possible, however, Maverick does serve as a foil to his father by not committing to Kingship, not killing out of revenge, and being present for his children to guide them at all times instead of behind bars. Maverick strives to give his children the luxury of presence and convenience as that is something he wished for since his father’s sentencing.

The reason why this story isn’t a 5/5 is due to the lack of development for important female characters. Understandably, this is Maverick’s story and as Maverick is a strong hetero-male. It is, with this regard, that I take his lack of attention to female characters not out of perspective or out of character. The phrase, boys will be boys—as irritating as that may be—is in play here in terms of boys naturally being dense and inattentive to social cues in relation to their female counterparts. Maverick is a strong hetero-male growing up in a patriarchal society and in gang life, Maverick’s perspective is centered on himself and other men because he is searching for guidance relative to him versus doing what comes naturally (which to note, naturality is more of a female designated concept i.e. women’s intuition) but, he does learn to develop from his mother. Not to say that the female characters were weak, on contrary, they were not! The women in the story possessed hardy personalities and dialogue that was strong against Maverick’s actions and tendencies to keep him in line. However, there could have been a little more insight into their weakness. I think Lisa could have used a weak moment much like Maverick’s mother when she learns of the second pregnancy. Although readers do see Lisa cry in learning she was pregnant, that moment of weakness was swept aside as she pulled herself together quickly in the proceeding chapters. Iesha’s character could have offered more perspective into post-partum depression rather than just simply dipping out of eye-sight. However, in rebuttal, this isn’t their stories and if it was… Iesha would have been an unreliable narrator and could have been seen as an attack on stereotypical black teen girls… Lisa’s perspective would have been too convenient and smooth to engage readers as her life was pretty comfy up until her pregnancy… while Maverick’s mother would have been seen as too soft upon her child and the story may have not been about her grandchild, but rather, her relationship with Moe. All in all, I appreciate and applaud Angie Thomas and her publication of Concrete Rose as it provided insight into male teen pregnancy, the black perspective and transition of boyhood into manhood, and the accurate representation of urban/ghetto/hood lifestyles that can be seen within American society.

See my Goodreads rant!

Did you enjoy reading Concrete Rose? Check out these recommendations!

The Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds – poetry (novel in verse), coming-to-age, gang violence, revenge, psychological

Street Love by Walter Dean Myers ��� poetry (novel in verse), rap, romance (forbidden love), family troubles

Tyrell by Coe Booth – family troubles, identity, homelessness

The First Part Last by Angela Johnson – teen pregnancy, coming-to-age, adulthood

Bloody Seoul by Sonia Patel – gang violence, Korea, coming-of-age

[tbehartoo]

Tag game:  Author Meme

Tagged by @platypanthewriter​

Author name: Tbehartoo. That’s pretty much my online name everywhere XD

Fandoms I write for: I’ve written for Fairy Tail, Miraculous Ladybug, and a crossover with Voltron: Legendary Defenders and Ouran High School Host Club. Mostly ML lately though. Wait, I forgot about a Stranger Things story I wrote for @platypan​. Oh, and the Supernatural fic that I coauthored with my niece, but I don’t know if that counts as one of my fandoms I write for.

Where I post:  Usually Tumblr and AO3, but occasionally I’ll update FFN as well.

Most popular one-shot: According to AO3 The one-shot with the most kudos is Fading Ink, a Lukanette story.

Favorite story I wrote: That’s really hard for me to narrow down. I really like the stories that I write for someone, especially if they tell me they loved it after I’ve gifted it to them.

My favorite right now has got to be What the SHELL?! It’s a story I recently posted where a couple of ML characters are using Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle (TMNT) quotes in their conversation. It’s my favorite for two reasons: 1) it was prompted by a list of TMNT quotes someone wanted to see done in ML, and 2) My niece has absolutely adored TMNT for at least half of her sixteen years of existence. When I got her to read the story, she absolutely squeed in delight and even hugged my arm (I was driving)- and THAT’S the kind of reaction I was hoping to see her have. It was very rewarding.

Story I was nervous to post:  Which story have I NOT been nervous to post? Well the first fan fic I ever wrote (Nap Time) would probably be the one I was most nervous to post. Or maybe it’s the Stranger Things one-shot I wrote for Platy and have never posted anywhere? Or several of the WIP’s I have sitting around in various stages….

How do I choose titles:  Honestly, I love a good pun but I’m also a sucker for alliteration as well.

Do you outline? Yes. I have to. My brain likes to switch from story to story so i need an outline just to remember where the thing is headed. Do I stick to my outline? Uh, next question.

Complete:  AO3 says I have 70 works, but it’s counting the crossover twice. Of those works only 8 are marked incomplete, and a couple of those are ones I’m probably never going to get back to. View the list here

In progress:  Are we talking posted, but not finished or the massive stack of WIP’s on my My Drive?

Of the posted, not finished: Black Plague is the one I’m trying to work on since I’m not participating in any particular writing challenges or exchanges right now.

Um, let me eeny, meeny, miney, moe a couple of projects here- Well there’s the prequels to Raining Chats and Chiens, a story for the Kitty Love Zine, a MariChat zine that raised money for an animal charity and is coming out with a Volume 2 pretty soon. I’m so excited to see what’s next! And there are 3 of those. Or the  Ladybug crossed with How to Train Your Dragon birthday story that might have to be for someone’s Next birthday. Or the Beauty and the Beast AU where Belle’s dad makes it to the fair, Belle moves away, and we see what happens with Gaston and LeFou. [But that one feels like it’s really still just a fuller outline right now. I need to hone my writing skills far better before I can do it justice.]

Do you take prompts? I love to be given prompts! It’s even better if I have a deadline to work to though. Some of my WIPs are prompts that are very, very old.

Upcoming project I’m most excited about: I started an original story I’m titling “Static” at the moment. Right now I’m just world building-which is as far as it may ever get, but that’s kind of the fun part for me. I’m also really excited to be working on finishing Black Plague.

Tagging but you are under no obligations to participate: @sassyhazelowl​ @galahadwilder​ @freedom-shamrock​ @alienducky​ @marichat4lyf​ @dragonshost​

[jodonfan]

@FedeAlvarez (Evil Dead, Don’t Breathe) is producing a new take on Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre for Legendary, and we had learned early this year that Ryan and Andy Tohill (The Dig) would be directing the film, written by Chris Thomas Devlin. But those plans, a week into production, have collapsed. Deadline reports today that the Tohill brothers have left the project due to creative differences. The film, they note, had been “a week into production in Bulgaria.” David Blue Garcia (Tejano) has already been brought in to take their place, and all the footage that had been shot by the Tohill brothers will be scrapped entirely. The cast includes Elsie Fisher (Eighth Grade), Sarah Yarkin (Happy Death Day 2U), Jacob Latimore (The Maze Runner) and Moe Dunford (Vikings). Tobe Hooper’s 1974 classic launched a franchise that includes all kinds of sequels, remakes and reboots. Most recently, Leatherface served as a prequel to the original classic. Legendary is reportedly hoping to kick-start a new franchise with this one, potentially (last we heard, at least) one that’s in some way connected to the original classic. https://www.instagram.com/p/CESSW9cl8HJ/?igshid=1uz9urvt42we1

[cool-topplaygame-blr]

Girls' Frontline will get an anime adaptation

uring a livestream, it was recently announced that the game "Girls' Frontline" by the Chinese developer MICA Team will receive an anime adaptation. A first promo video you can see below in the article.More message: TOPPLAY SOCCER http://cosman.com.tw/

The anime implementation is to be a comedy short series that will start already in the spring of this year. Collaboration with the VA-11 HALL-A franchise is also planned within this series. In addition, another anime project on »Girls' Frontline« is currently in the works.

»Girls' Frontline« is a Moe RPG mobile game that was first released in May 2016 in China for iOS and Android and is a prequel to the game »Codename: Bakery Girl«. In May 2018, the game was released in English and three months later, the Japanese version followed, but under the title "Dolls Frontline" appeared, because the original title is blocked in Japan by a copyright troll.

[thomasroach]

National Park Girls Review

Studio Coattails and Sekai Project bring players to nature with their new visual novel National Park Girls. Featuring personified versions of some of our nation’s greatest treasures, should you set out to spend some time in nature?

National Park Girls Review

The freckled girl Zoe takes center stage of this visual novel. As a freshly minted park ranger, she has been given a second chance in this new role. After being dropped off by fellow ranger Jessie, she gets settled in her new outpost.

Everything seems to be normal until three girls make their appearance in her cabin. They’re not just any ladies though – Yosemite, Zion, and Yellowstone are human embodiments of their respective parks. They manage to have their own “quirks” too – Zion flies around, while Yellowstone has a geyser for a head.

This is admittedly a silly premise, and makes no sense when you think of it. However, the cutesy anime stylings make for a slice of life tale that entertains throughout its first episode. Some parts drag on a little bit – the act of making breakfast takes an eternity – but those who just go with the flow will enjoy getting to know this cast and crew. There are some nice flowery touches to the game as well, including moving portraits, solid art, and even a chibi-fied lesson on national parks at the end. The development team put a lot of work into this title, and it shows.

In true visual novel form, players will be doing a lot of reading throughout National Park Girls. Running for around two hours, there is a lot of dialog to process, along with a number of different characters. It’s not a silent affair though; the entirety of the title is voiced in English. The VAs are hit and miss – some characters skew on the kind of cutesy voices that you hear in dubbed moe anime, but it certainly adds to the title. The solid, if juvenile, script really drives these talents home.

It’s just a shame that this game doesn’t have a lot of “game” to it. There are no choices to speak of – everybody will have the same experience when all is said and done. In addition, only the first episode is included. There is still a decent arc that features enough action and a climactic moment to keep players occupied, but it’s akin to watching the first episode of an anime series rather than a whole arc. It’s not bad, and the low price point reflects this, but more would have most certainly been welcome.

National Park Girls successfully manages to combine slice of life antics with a truly unique concept. Though it skews on the side of cute, what is here is a solid (if brief) visual novel that will appeal to fans of the genre.

This review of National Park Girls was done on the PC. The game was purchased digitally.

Game Reviews

Posted 1 hour ago by Casey Scheld in Casey Scheld Reviews, Game Reviews, PC Reviews

National Park Girls Review

Studio Coattails and Sekai Project bring players to nature with their new visual novel National Park Girls. Featuring personified versions of some of our nation’s greatest treasures, should you set

Posted March 29, 2019 by Casey Scheld in Casey Scheld Reviews, Game Reviews, PC Reviews

Blask Review

SmallBigSquare lets players bring out their inner scientist with their new laser-focused title Blask. There is certainly a lot to play around with in this puzzler, but do its 60 levels make for

Posted March 26, 2019 by Casey Scheld in Casey Scheld Reviews, Game Reviews, PC Reviews

Long Arm of the Law Review

There’s a new sheriff in town with the release of Quality Games’ twin stick shooter Long Arm of the Law. Featuring an extendable arm, grappling mechanics, and rootin’ tootin’ shootin’, should you set

Posted March 25, 2019 by Casey Scheld in Casey Scheld Reviews, Game Reviews, PC Reviews

Another Sight – Hodge’s Journey Review

A prequel to the platformer Another Sight, Lunar Great Wall Studios and Fish Eagle’s Hodge’s Journey has players taking control of a cat across a number of different whimsical landscapes. Should you

The post National Park Girls Review appeared first on GamersHeroes.

National Park Girls Review published first on https://juanaframi.tumblr.com/

[sweetdestinywhispers]

hey, everybody.

it’s been a while. i haven’t been on here because not only am i not proud of what i’ve posted here.... but I’m paranoid that my password is probably too long and too unmemorable and now i have to ...well, last time i went to make an email about this topic--- I had to find a certain thing that tells me: Yahoo is DEAD!!!! and now, there’s one thing i need to get around:  Vixion Warfare, something i’ve been working on since 2006, is effective immediately, to have no sequels prequels or spin offs. a one and done.   no sequels or anything. none. let me explain:  In 2006, I was writing  a story known as “Vixion Warfare.” it’s a story about aliens called “Vixion”. who are like Invader ZIM except ...not, you know, because legal safety. ;P in 2009, i stopped working on in after dropping out of high school which shattered me like shit, and then 2011 came around where i lost my marbles- since then during 2012 to 2015 i have made the occasional Short story starring the characters (Klaus, Lord Crawnlaxz, Cedric, A-Ross, Felicia, and the rest) and then in 2016, during my birthday, i had the cautious decision to publish Vixion Warfare, which has me up in arms with my mother who is my editor. here’s one draft I made back a few years ago back in 2008...damn. Deviant art is one gold mine of crud and malarkey. 

 https://kevgamer.deviantart.com/art/An-abandoned-novel-I-wrote-87385122

and once I’m done with the Vixion Warfare novel......

I’m gonna be done.

forever. Why? because. I originally wanted it to have a big fanbase and have about 4 sequels as well as 2 prequels! I had been inspired to do the Book as a one and done after watching.... this video, last night:

The last time I made something this complex, which was “The Newfie Dragon”, something that wouldn’t be relevant if it had any significance... you see the thing is it was 300 pages long, i started it in 2005 during summer and wanted to end it in 2006 during February! I have since moved on from that idea, and therefore will not be making anything else under the sun to revive The Newfie Dragon, or even Edard or whatever that was... although my friend Moe wants to hear a lot about Edard all the time!!...... hmmm...... maybe the thing about these ideas is, they’re too long? maybe, I need another way of telling my stories. but how!? 

I’m beginning to see a big tradition in these stories: they are always finished before they can tell their full stories in time to get the production down. the thing is, these stories are called “Puzzle Times”. they’re original stories made off doctor who fan fictions! 

but all that is someday to come to a stop. but my 3rd and quite most possibly last project for that sort of thing? what format and/or medium should I do for the next time I do something that.... labyrinthine?! please... just give me a sign.

[recentanimenews]

Check Official Countdown Illustrations for "The Ancient Magus' Bride" 2nd Part Release

To promote the theatrical release of its second part starting in Japan today, February 4, the official website and Twitter for the three-part OAD project inspired by Kore Yamazaki's fantasy manga series Mahou Tsukai no Yome/The Ancient Magus' Bride has been posting countdown illustrations drawn by its production staff members. Check their arts below.

   The OAD series is based on the manga author's original episode "Hoshi Matsu Hito/Those Awaiting a Star," telling a prequel story about what happened to the protagonist Chise Hatori when she was 8 years old, long before she meets Elias Ainsworthis. The second part is scheduled to be screened at eight selected theaters for a limited time of two weeks, then will be bundled with the special edition of the manga's 7th volume to be released on March 10. The last third part will be included in the special edition of the manga's 8th volume to be available on September 9.

  The first part, The Ancient Magus’ Bride: Those Awaiting a Star Part 1, is now available to Crunchyroll

members worldwide except Japan, China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau.

    January 27 art illustrated by Mitsuaki Takabe

【公開まであと８日】昨日はイベントありがとうございました！公開までのカウントダウンをスタート致します！本日のイラストは高部光章さん！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ https://t.co/vrG4IRTSfj http://pic.twitter.com/hjjSxOzgIM

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年1月27日

  January 28 art by Reina Igawa (co-animation director)

【公開まであと7日】中篇公開まであと7日！今日のイラストは井川麗奈さん！(宣伝ひげ) #まほよめ http://pic.twitter.com/gnD8WbQvTy

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年1月28日

  January 29 art by Kana Ito

【公開まであと６日】中篇公開まであと６日！本日のイラストは伊藤香奈さん！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ http://pic.twitter.com/gPr0OXIkA0

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年1月29日

  January 30 art by Mai Tejima

【公開まであと５日】中篇公開まであと５日！本日のイラストは手島舞さんです！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ https://t.co/6mpgNinENe http://pic.twitter.com/m04pTCTy9Z

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年1月30日

  January 31 art by Hiromi Tanba

【公開まであと４日】中篇公開まであと４日！本日のイラストは丹羽弘美さん！舞台挨拶のチケットは各劇場にて絶賛発売中です♪皆様、ぜひご参加ください！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ https://t.co/q6g4OA7zCT http://pic.twitter.com/EzDzCgqpxd

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年1月31日

  February 1 art by Haru Sakai

【公開まであと��日】中篇公開まであと３日！本日のイラストは酒井はるさん！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ https://t.co/6mpgNinENe http://pic.twitter.com/D1M7k8jMkD

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年2月1日

  February 2 art by Masahiro Yamanaka

【公開まであと２日】中篇公開まであと２日！！本日のイラストは山中正博さんです！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ http://pic.twitter.com/nAdDqBNIfj

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年2月2日

  February 3 art by Masaaki Tanaka

【いよいよ明日公開】明日４日より２週間限定にて『星待つひと：中篇』が公開となります！本日のイラストは田中正晃さん！４日・５日は新宿・さいたま・横浜にて舞台挨拶もございますので、ぜひご参加下さいね！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ https://t.co/6Y1vSF41V3 http://pic.twitter.com/NKlNMfYV2r

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年2月3日

  February 4 art by Masafumi Yokota (sub character designer)

【本日公開】本日より中篇が公開となりました！本日のイラストは横田匡史さんです！映画館では１７日（金）までの２週間限定上映となりますので、この機会にぜひ劇場でご覧ください♪（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ https://t.co/6mpgNinENe http://pic.twitter.com/uuPVY5bGKh

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) 2017年2月3日

        Trailer

  Main visual

【星待つひと：中篇】この度、メインビジュアルが解禁となりました！幼少期のチセと謎の青年三浦が描かれたビジュアル！１２月３日（土）より上映劇場にてポスター・チラシも掲出いたします！（宣伝ひげ） #まほよめ http://pic.twitter.com/Yi8fXpy7Oj

— 魔法使いの嫁アニメ化プロジェクト (@mahoyomeproject) November 30, 2016

     Main staff:

 Director: Norihiro Naganuma (Yowamushi Pedal The Movie)

 Scenario: Aya Takaha (Psycho-Pass)

 Character Design: Hirotaka Kato (Hozuki no Reitetsu)

 Arts: Bamboo

 Music Production: Flying Dog

 Anime Production: WIT STUDIO (Attack on Titan)

 Distribution: Shochiku

 Planning, Production: Production I.G

  Main Voice Cast:

 Chise Hatori: Atsumi Tanezaki (Moe Nishinosono in Subete ga F ni Naru)

 Elias Ainsworth: Ryota Takeuchi (Heroman in HEROMAN)

 Ruth: Kouki Uchiyama (Banagher Links in Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn)

 Silky: Aya Endoh (Totoko in Osomatsu-san)

 Angelica Barlei: Yuko Kaida (Marida Cruz in Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn)

 Hugo: Misaki Kuno (Hawk in The Seven Deadly Sins)

     Source: "Mahou Tsukai no Yome" anime project official website, Twitter 

  Copyright © 2016 MAG Garden corp. All rights Reserved.

  By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[azrielsiphons]

Prequel: Azriel-Centric Stories Set Before ACOTAR (ch. 1)

This is a collection of interconnected short stories about Azriel's life before any of the events of ACOTAR through ACOWAR.

CHAPTER 1: MYLO

Make sure to read Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 4.5, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Read the follow up fic, Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same

Time frame: 2 years after Rhys was made High Lord

Summary: Rhys sends Azriel to a small Illyrian camp that’s been causing him trouble. While there, he makes a new friend. And an enemy.

“Keldar’s camp is small,” Rhys remarked, his voice lower than usual. Azriel and Cassian walked alongside him, keeping perfect time with their friend - and new High Lord’s footsteps. Rhys had been walking a bit heavier for the past two years since his family, since their family…

No, Azriel couldn’t think about that right now. They were finally starting to heal, or at least getting better at pretending to heal. That had to be enough for now.

“The smallest of all the camps, really,” Rhys continued. “Mainly because everyone keeps abandoning it.”

“Because Keldar is an asshole,” Cassian muttered. He wasn’t wrong. Lord Keldar was one of the worst of the Illyrian camp lords they had ever met.

“Most of the lords are assholes,” Azriel said drily. “You want me to spy on all of them?”

“If I could spare you that much, yes,” Rhys said honestly. “But I can’t, so we’ll just deal with the worst for now. All the reports from those who abandoned Keldar’s camp say he’s ruthless.”

“All the lords are ruthless,” Cassian added.

“All Illyrians are ruthless,” Azriel muttered.

The other two were silent.

“The point is,” Rhys said, “Keldar is clearly a problem. How I need to deal with that problem is yet to be seen.”

The door to Rhys’s office squeaked open as he laid a heavy palm on it and pushed. Cassian and Azriel gave each other a quick yet concerned look, both of them taking in the heaviness with which Rhys carried himself. They had all been forced to step up to new positions of responsibility under the worst possible circumstances. Azriel wondered if they would ever one day walk as lightly as they used to before their family had been cut down by three.

“So what do you want us to do?” Cassian asked.

Rhys sighed, leaning back against his massive desk, covered in all sorts of documents he needed to be going through. He rubbed his hands over his tired face before dropping his arms and offering an amused - yet fake - smile.

“I want Azriel to go to the camp,” he said to Cassian. “And,” he continued, holding up a hand when Cassian started to interject. “I want you to go with me to Devlon’s camp and see how the newly integrated females are doing.”

Cassian gave a wicked grin, looking over at Azriel. “See he wants the strongest of us to go with him to Devlon, clearly.”

“I think he’s more concerned with which of us is the loudest, brother.”

Cassian’s smile turned into a glare and he flipped Azriel off. Rhys laughed.

“It’s a good thing I already love you morons. Az, just go to the camp and check things out. I’d like to be proven wrong about Keldar, but I have a feeling he will be just as much of a prick as I expect him to be.”

“And if he’s a bit more than just a prick?” Azriel asked softly.

The three males all stilled. Cassian and Azriel both looked to Rhys. To their brother. To their High Lord.

It was his job to make these calls now.

Rhys inhaled deeply. “Then you put him down,” he said with not nearly as much conviction as he intended. “Send the rest of his men that may be decent to us at Devlon’s camp or to Rhifki’s camp.”

Azriel only nodded.

He hoped that Rhys would be proven wrong as well. Not only for Keldar’s sake, but for Rhys’s.

~~~~~

Lord Keldar was awful. Absolutely awful. The moment Azriel touched down and told Keldar that Rhys had sent him to check on things, Keldar told him his new High Lord had no right to send him some barely Illyrian lackey to monitor his camp. A hand on Truth Teller and a flare of Azriel’s siphons had him simmering down, but the nasty looks he shot towards Azriel’s scars still stung.

It never mattered how much time passed by, Azriel felt sure that even when he was 500 years old, the fact that these people would never accept him would still hurt. He hid that hurt inside his shadows though, let the hurt surround him and embolden him. He didn’t run away from pain, he wielded it like another sword.

Still hurt like a bitch though.

After one of Keldar’s men pointing Azriel to his cabin with a grunt and a dirty look, Azriel took it upon himself to walk the perimeter of the camp. He walked tall, letting his siphons flare anytime one of Keldar’s men glanced his way. That usually got them to look away if the shadows and scars didn’t first.

The snow crunched under his feet, the hard ground beneath making way for memories that Azriel didn’t want to spend much time on.

Memories of being slammed into that hard, snow-covered ground as a child by the older boys. Memories of sleeping on the hard cement of his “room,” the darkness all he knew. Memories of cutting other males down during the Rite to reach his brothers, watching the hot, wet blood melt away the snow and sink into the dirt below…

Azriel whirled as something touched his shoulder. He’d been crouching down, overlooking the horizon as the flashbacks had slammed into him so intensely he hadn’t caught someone sneaking up on him.

In one smooth movement, Azriel had whipped out Truth Teller, grabbing the assailant’s wrist and shoving him down to the ground in an incredibly easy maneuver… too easy… and the wrist was so small…

“Shit,” Azriel breathed in horror, jerking away from the child he had shoved to the ground.

He couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9 years old, with bright hazel eyes like most Illyrians, caramel colored skin and wildly curly hair. He was thin, with dark bags under his eyes and a bruise across his jaw and collarbone. A scar on his nose stood out bright against his dark skin.

Azriel shot to his feet, the child still laying on the ground shaking, his eyes never leaving Truth Teller, gripped tight in Azriel’s shaking hands.

“Shit,” he said again, no other words coming to mind. He sheathed Truth Teller in an easy motion, the boy finally breathing as he did so, though his small body still shook in fear that he was trying and failing to conceal.

“Hey,” Azriel said softly, holding his palms up in a sign of good will. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly, trying to get his shadows to calm down. He didn’t need to scare this kid any more than he already was. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” the boy snapped. Azriel just raised a brow. “Okay you scared me a little bit.”

It took a second, but Azriel felt the corners of his lips tug upwards. He took a slow step forward, pleased when the boy didn’t scoot away from him. He held out a hand.

The boy took a shaky breath, looking at Azriel’s scarred, shadow covered hand. After a few seconds passed, Azriel thought he wouldn’t take it, but then surprisingly, he did.

He hauled the boy to his feet as gently as possible, dusting the snow from his shoulders. He knew what getting thrown into that snow felt like, and he knew for certain that that wasn’t the boys first time being knocked down. It was likely the least painful.

“You alright, kid?” He asked.

“Don’t call me kid,” the boy snapped. Azriel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he couldn’t help but smile. It was like a mini Cassian. “What are those shadows for?”

Azriel laughed, noting in the back of his mind that that was the first time he had laughed without restraint since before he lost her…

No. Don’t think about it.

“I’m a Shadowsinger,” he said. “Do you know what that is?”

“I’m not stupid,” the boy bit back. Azriel bit his lip to keep from laughing again. Mini Cassian indeed. “Shadowsingers aren’t real though.”

“Do I not look real to you?”

He had the boy there.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Don’t call me kid!”

“Then what’s your name?” Azriel asked incredulously. If his brothers were here they would have laughed themselves to death at him arguing with a child.

“Mylo,” he finally said with a huff. “What’s yours?”

“Azriel.”

The boy scrunched his name. “That’s a weird name.”

“And yours is any better?”

The boy ignored that. “What were you thinking about so hard? Before you knocked me down?”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“S’okay, I get knocked down a lot.” Azriel winced at that. “But you looked real sad. And also mad. What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about… when I was your age. In these camps.”

“Were you a bastard too?”

Azriel inhaled sharply. He should’ve known. Only bastards were that thin at these camps.

“I was.”

“That sucks,” Mylo muttered, completely unfazed. He started walking off and got a few steps away before turning back to Azriel. “Well? Are you coming?”

Azriel loosed a breath, his shoulders relaxing. He chuckled, very glad his brothers weren’t here to see him getting sassed by a child. He would never live it down.

Mylo took it upon himself to show Azriel around the camp. He showed him the mess hall, the training pit, the cabins, the weapons bunk, and the bastards’ tents. It took a great amount of willpower not to wince every time Mylo said something that reminded Azriel of his own time with his real brothers or Cassian’s stories about being in the tents.

“So why are you staying with us?” Mylo asked suddenly as they were walking back to the cabins. Azriel glared at Keldar’s men as they looked at him and Mylo. He’d rip any of them to shreds if they said something to the boy. Fortunately for them they always quickly looked away when caught under the Shadowsinger’s fierce gaze. Mylo was oblivious.

“I’m just here for a quick visit,” Azriel said under his breath. “Just a routine check.”

“Who sent you? One of the other camps?”

“No, my… boss sent me.” Azriel cringed as he stumbled over his own words.

“Who’s that? Commander Cassian?”

Azriel barked a laugh, coughing to cover it up. That wasn’t the time nor the place to be laughing, not with so many people watching.

“No, not Commander Cassian,” he said. “High Lord Rhysand.”

Mylo came to a stop, looking up at Azriel with his jaw dropped.

“You work for the High Lord?” He whispered in awe.

Oh Azriel was going to give Rhys hell.

“Yes,” he said simply, even though Rhys would argue that he worked alongside him.

“Is he… is he coming here?” Mylo asked, hope coating his voice. Azriel remembered that. Having hope for a savior. Before the darkness inside him became his savior.

“Possibly,” he answered. “Do you want him to?”

“Could he… could he take me to another camp?” Mylo whispered, looking around to make sure none of Keldar’s men heard.

Azriel tensed, looking around himself before crouching down in front of Mylo.

“Why do you ask that, Mylo?” Mylo looked away, and Azriel gently placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hey. You can tell me. Has Keldar done anything to you?”

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, but Azriel let Mylo gather his thoughts, he didn’t rush him.

“Lord Keldar—”

“Hey!”

Mylo jumped as one of Keldar’s men shouted, but Azriel didn’t even flinch. He stood to his full height, stepping in front of Mylo as the tall male strode for the pair. He felt Mylo’s hand start to reach for his own, then stop. Smart move in these camps. Never show weakness or fear.

“Can I help you?” Azriel asked gruffly. The male came to a stop just a few feet in front of him, sizing him up with clear disdain.

“Bastards aren’t allowed this side of the camp,” the male replied, sneering down at Mylo, who only shuffled further behind Azriel. “Get back to your tent, boy.”

“His name,” Azriel hissed, his voice taking on an icy, murderous tone. “Is Mylo. Watch your tone with him.”

“And just who the hell are you?”

“I’m here on your High Lord’s orders so I would watch your mouth.”

The male only laughed. “That puny little half-breed doesn’t mean shit around here. He’s not even fit to be High Lord, he only got the job when his filthy—”

Azriel moved so quickly no one without his kind of advances senses could have caught it. He heard Mylo gasp behind him, but the rage made his vision red.

The pathetic male turned purple almost immediately, his hands clawing at Azriel’s own scar covered one wrapped around his throat. He let out an awful noise as Truth Teller dug into his side a half inch.

“I said,” Azriel hissed into the male’s ear, “Watch. Your. Mouth.”

He gave the male a few more seconds of pure terror before letting him go. He dropped to the ground in a heap.

“The boy stays with me tonight. Take that as a warning. Next time, I won’t let go.”

Without another glance back, Azriel turned on his heel and grabbed Mylo, striding for his cabin.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening.”

At Keldar’s voice, Azriel froze, his hand still on Mylo’s shoulder. Mylo looked up at him, his innocent hazel eyes still bright.

“You may be here on your High Lord’s orders son, but this is my camp.”

“Don’t call me son,” Azriel said lowly, his voice promising a slow death.

“We have rules here,” Keldar continued, unfazed. At Mylo’s tug on his arm, Azriel looked over his shoulder to see Keldar flanked by eight of his men. “Bastards stay in their tents. Even the real nice ones.”

Keldar gave a mocking smile, his men laughing heartily at that. Mylo seemed to cringe in on himself.

“Go on, boy. To your tent.”

Mylo started to move, but Azriel held him back, his raging eyes never leaving Keldar. The laughter stopped.

“Now, boy,” he said.

“I’ll go,” Mylo said up to Azriel. With effort, Azriel tore his eyes away from Keldar and back down to him. “Don’t get in trouble. It’s okay. The tents aren’t that bad.”

Yes. Yes they were.

“Get!”

“Don’t speak to him that way,” Azriel snapped.

“Have you gone soft, son?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Maybe you’ve spent too much time with your fancy High Lord, but at these camps, we are warriors!” Keldar shouted. “That boy,” he pointed threateningly at Mylo, “Is going to be a warrior one day! He can sleep in a damn tent to earn his dues like every other bastard here! I’m sure you didn’t get those scars or those siphons living in a fancy damn palace your whole life now did you son—”

“Call me son one more time.”

The camp stilled. Azriel’s shadows drifted out from him slowly, promising an equally paced death.

“Get to your tent,” Keldar said to Mylo.

With one last glance at Azriel, Mylo pulled away and walked back to the tree line, his head hung low in shame.

“Keep in mind, Shadowsinger,” Keldar spoke lowly, daring to meet Azriel’s eyes. “This is my camp. And those are my bastards. And while you’re here, you’re one of my bastards too.”

I’m going to enjoy ripping your throat out, Azriel thought to himself.

“So you’ll follow my rules,” Keldar continued.

Azriel let a small smile grace his features, straightening his shoulders. He looked every one of Keldar’s men in the eye.

“For now.”

~~~~~~

Keldar was ruthless, but he was also an idiot. Sending his men into Azriel’s cabin in the middle of the night? Pathetic.

Three males crept into Azriel’s room, looking towards his bed only to see nothing there. Azriel almost rolled his eyes.

As the three looked at one another in confusion, Azriel stepped out of the shadows of his own making. Three swipes, three men down.

He knew they would come. He didn’t know it would be this pathetic though. Or that they would wait until morning.

Azriel had undermined Keldar in front of his men and in front of a bastard as well. As far as humiliation went, he had crossed a line. Perhaps he should’ve called in Rhys and Cassian, but if he were being honest with himself, he wanted to be the one to destroy everyone in this Cauldron forsaken camp. There were only about fifteen men after all. Mylo had said there were four bastards. He would send them to Rhifki’s camp. He was a new camp lord of Rhys’s own choosing he would treat Mylo and the others at least… somewhat better.

Wiping Truth Teller off on his leathers, Azriel stepped over the bodies and made his way toward the door. Before his hand touched the handle though, he froze.

Move quickly, his shadows whispered.

Fuck.

Azriel rushed outside, realizing his mistake. While he’d been worried about who was sneaking into his cabin to punish him for his blatant disrespect, he hadn’t considered that Keldar would have been equally displeased with…

“Mylo,” Azriel called out, meeting the boy’s eyes. “You’re okay, do you understand me? You’re going to be okay.”

Except he wasn’t. Mylo seemed to believe him though, his young eyes trained on Azriel with nothing but hope and pleading as Keldar held a knife against his throat. All of his men surrounded him.

“Let’s not tell lies, Shadowsinger,” Keldar called out with a wicked grin. “Mylo here can handle the truth, can’t you boy?” He ran his filthy hands through Mylo’s hair and the boy cringed. “Stop right there.” Keldar dug the knife into Mylo’s neck just enough to draw blood when Azriel lurched forward. He froze immediately.

“Let him go,” Azriel said lowly, murderously. “He’s done nothing. Kill me if you want.”

“And incur the wrath of our oh so mighty High Lord?” Keldar’s men laughed heartily. Azriel’s hands clenched into fists. “Don’t worry son, Mylo won’t be the only bastard to die tonight. You’re next. That is… unless you deliver a message to the half-breed for me.”

“And what would that message be?”

“That he means nothing,” Keldar hissed. Tears rolled down Mylo’s face. “Illyrians are not ruled by a High Lord, we rule ourselves! Our culture, our way of life, it is set like stone and your pathetic High Lord is never going to change that. So tell him he can either stop trying or he can die trying. Either way is fine with me.”

“Done,” Azriel said. “I’ll deliver it. Now let Mylo go.”

Keldar laughed, his shaking making the blade dig further into Mylo’s neck. Azriel shook with rage and… fear. Pure fear.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you Shadowsinger? You think you’re better than us. That you’re different than us. Well you need to understand boy that you aren’t better, you’re just soft. And the soft ones die first. Isn’t that right, Mylo?”

“Azriel—”

Slit.

Everything went quiet. 

The shadows went silent as Mylo’s body dropped to the ground. Keldar’s mouth and shoulders and chest shook with his laughter, but Azriel heard nothing. He felt Keldar’s men jump at him, saw his breath appear as vapor in front of him as he roared in anger, saw their blood falling from his fingertips, but it was all just… quiet.

Only when Azriel ripped Keldar’s throat out with his bare hands did the noise return. Except now… it really was quiet. Only his breathing. No vile laughter. No clashing of metal swords, or tearing of flesh. No breathing save his own.

Azriel’s knees buckled, the terrible, familiar feel of the hard ground beneath the snow catching his fall. His hands reached for Mylo, pulling his thin - too thin - body to his chest. His eyes were open, that look of hope still evident on his forever frozen face.

Azriel. That had been his last word. A plea for help, for safety, for rescue. And Azriel had been too slow. He hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t predicted the exact moment, hadn’t even considered winnowing behind Keldar or using his siphons to shield Mylo’s neck.

He had failed Mylo. Just like everyone else had failed Mylo. Like everyone had failed him until Rhys’s mother had come along. And now she was…

Gone. Dead. Just like Mylo now. Mylo, dead in his arms. His blood staining Azriel’s leathers, hot and wet as it melted the snow and stained the hard ground beneath. A sight so familiar… too familiar.

Suddenly a noise sounded in the tree line and Azriel shot his head up. He was reaching for Truth Teller when he saw their eyes.

Young, hopeful, hazel eyes.

The other bastards.

Azriel gulped. “I’m going to take you somewhere safe,” he said hoarsely. They only stared. “I promise. You’ll be safe.”

What was the point of promises anymore if he could never keep them.

~~~~~

Azriel felt sick to his stomach flying down to the House of Wind. His body was drained, his wings tired. He had flown two of the younger children in his arms to Rhifki’s camp, the older two flying themselves alongside him. All of this after burning Keldar’s men and burying Mylo. After leaving Rhifki’s camp he had flown directly for Velaris. Directly for home. Something Mylo never got to experience.

Landing on the balcony, Mor was there. She was always right there.

She caught sight of the blood on his leathers and froze.

“Not mine.” 

She inhaled sharply.

Rhys, Cassian, and Amren all came in. The second Amren caught the scent on his leathers, Mylo’s blood, she froze. Her eyes caught his with an unreadable expression.

“Azriel…” Rhys began, having no doubt already gotten word from Rhifki’s camp.

Azriel had no response though. Nothing but anguish in his heart as he strode past his family to wash Mylo’s blood off his hands.

[azrielsiphons]

Prequel; Azriel-Centric Stories Set Before ACOTAR (ch. 6)

This is a collection of interconnected short stories about Azriel’s life before any of the events of ACOTAR through ACOWAR.

CHAPTER 6: BREEN 

Make sure to read Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 4.5, Ch. 5, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10

Read the follow up fic, Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same

Time Frame: 380 years after Rhys is made High Lord

Summary: An offshoot group of high fae have been rumored to be trafficking humans into the Middle as a form of entertainment. Azriel goes to check out the situation and gets into a fight with disastrous consequences. Help comes in the strangest of forms. 

Azriel touched down silently, his boots not making even the slightest of sounds on the forest floor as he tucked his wings in tight. A glance to the left and a glance to the right had him releasing a soft breath, rolling out his shoulders. He hadn’t flown that far in a long time and he was feeling it now — he would be in the morning too.

Technically he was in Dawn Court lands, but he was so close to the border, practically on top of it, that no one would sense him. Not that anyone would have to begin with. His siphons flared as he double checked both his shields and shadows.

The flight had taken hours, but he couldn’t risk depleting his magic to even winnow in close to his destination — not when he didn’t know what he would be walking in to.

The rumors were… awful. There was no other word to describe them. According to his spies in both the Dawn and Winter Courts as well as in the mortal lands, there was a group of high fae that belonged to no court bringing humans into the outskirts of the Middle. Apparently these high fae were using the humans as a form of entertainment or sport.

The stories were all bits and pieces, but from what Azriel could piece together, the fae were using the humans as bait for some of the worst, nastiest creatures of the Middle. And then the fae would sit back and watch the slaughter.

Azriel snarled as he checked his various blades. If he came upon those fae he would be the one doing the slaughtering.

His steps were careful, quiet as the night as he began making his way closer to the border of the Middle. Cassian had wanted to join him, as had Mor, but Azriel wouldn’t risk all three of them when he didn’t know what they would be faced with. The plan was that he would assess the situation and then return to Velaris without making contact.

But if he saw those fae, he knew what he would do.

A few minutes later and Azriel knew he had officially crossed into the Middle. It was… quieter. Heavier. Ancient magic weighed down on his shoulders. His pace slowed as he became extra cautious. He had only been to the Middle a handful of times. The creatures there were… awful. Fortunately the sun was still out, though going down quickly.

When night came to fruition, that was when it would be the most dangerous.

A scarred hand whipped out a blade in the time it took for one’s heart to beat. Azriel froze, listening intently and sending out his shadows to investigate as he heard voices and laughter.

Seconds later the shadows came back and showed him what they saw. Azriel grimaced, trudging forward.

Minutes later he was crouched atop a small cliff, looking down at a haphazardly thrown together camp. He encased himself in shadow in case anyone decided to start sightseeing.

There were five fae. Four of them were standing around a group of about ten humans, dirty and bleeding and trembling, taunting them. Azriel gripped his blade tighter.

The fifth one, who looked to be the leader, was perched atop a nearby rock — their heavy hooded cloak completely hiding them from view. Azriel had the faintest feeling that he had seen that cloak before, but he shoved it away. It wasn’t the time.

Whoever the fae was, they were sitting and watching carefully. Azriel sniffed, but caught nothing. They must be shielding themselves. A paranoid leader, then. With good reason. He was going to rip out their throat.

“You’re going to be dinner tonight!” One of the fae shouted at the humans, spitting on them. “Dinner for a big nasty beastie!”

Azriel started, sitting up straighter. That accent - it wasn’t of Prythian.

These fae were from Hybern.

The King must be testing the waters again, Azriel thought to himself. Hungry for another war perhaps. Or perhaps this is just a group of extremists fascinated by the Middle.

It really didn’t matter. He was going to slaughter them anyway.

“As soon as the sun goes down,” another of the fae hissed, toying with a teenage girl’s matted hair as she cried, “We’re going to cut you loose and see how fast you can run.”

Azriel had had enough. A second later he was winnowing, noting in the back of his mind that the cloaked fae had tilted their head in his direction the exact moment he touched his magic.

The moment he was down in the camp, he had two blades out — one in each hand. A heartbeat later each of those knives was embedded deep in the eyesockets of two of the fae.

The other two taunting the humans roared, whipping out their own blades. The humans screamed, falling over themselves as they tried to scramble away amidst their chains.

The closest fae whipped out a Hybern-made sword and swung with a cry. It met Azriel’s Illyrian blade above their heads with an awful clang. Locked in that position, Azriel kicked at the fae’s chest, sending him flying backwards. Before he hit the ground, Azriel flung another blade right at his chest.

Two left, the shadows whispered

He should have seen it coming. The shadows should have warned him. But the moment he turned, blade raised as he heard the fourth fae come charging, the powder was flying into his face.

The coughing came immediately and Azriel fell to his knees. He raised his blade up just in time to block the fourth fae’s swing. He pushed back with all his might, but something was… wrong.

His strength started to fade immediately, and a wave of nausea overcame him as his shadows disappeared.

Faebane, he realized with horror.

As the last of his enhanced hearing faded from him, Azriel heard the fourth fae laughing, stalking towards him. With blind rage and blurry sight, he flung his sword straight forward.

It missed.

The fae laughed, still walking towards him but Azriel couldn’t see. His head felt heavy and his senses were dulling too quickly for him to keep up with. There was a ringing in his ears and then—

The fae screamed. Did he throw another blade? He couldn’t remember. Everything was so heavy, the air was too tight in his lungs and the trees were blurring and moving and where were his shadows? He looked down to his hand only to see the blue of his siphons flickering in a blur.

Holding onto his blade as tightly as possible, he swung blindly, but a kick to his hands had it knocked away from him. He tried to call up a shield, but it was too heavy — everything was just too heavy.

He tried to look up once more, but it was futile. The Middle was spinning, moving too quickly for him as he fell onto his side once more. Through the spinning there was a flash of violet.

Had Rhys come to save him? He knew that violet. Did Rhys kill the other fae, was that why he was still breathing?

He tried to speak out, to call out to Rhys, but then there were hands on the front of his leathers and it was certainly not Rhys’s hands.

The grip was familiar — familiar and he hated it. The faebane was messing with his mind, the sudden loss of his magic too strong for his brain to handle so it resorted to memories to help him cope, to help him survive. And who better to help him survive than the thought of her?

He tried yet again to touch his magic, to shield, to winnow, to something. It was useless. He was useless.

He could hear screaming, saying his name with desperation. Why — why would the Cauldron do this to him?

He could smell her — even without his better senses he knew that scent. The faebane had truly made him crazy.

“Azriel! You have to winnow! You have to get out of here!”

Why? Why did it have to be her the faebane drew to mind? She hadn’t haunted his dreams in so long…

“There are more coming! Dammit Az, winnow! Please!”

The last time he had heard her voice crack like that she was leaving him after begging him to fight for her. Why hadn’t he fought for her?

Her ghost was shaking him, begging him. He must surely be dead if she were with him. He hoped Rhys and Cassian and Mor didn’t mourn him for too long. Amren would be fine.

“Shit, shit.”

Azriel tried to laugh. It had always made him laugh when she cursed.

Suddenly a warm darkness wrapped around him and he was being flung. The darkness was warm and familiar and deep within his soul he felt a light he hadn’t felt in centuries and she was holding his hand — lacing their fingers together like so long ago and damn the Cauldron for haunting him with this and then —

The ground was hard and cold and he cried out as his shoulder popped out of place. He tried to open his eyes once more, his eyelids heavy and a pressure on his chest — a terrible pressure.

The faebane hallucination was blissful and terrible and he reached out to those violet eyes he had almost forgotten, trying to push back that dark hair that always fell in front of her face, her beautiful face.

For so long he had thought her eyes were the same as Rhys’s but only now as he stared at her ghost did he remember that they were a completely different shade.

His eyelids drooped shut before he could touch her ghost, the ringing in his ears returning with full force. He felt himself being pulled under. He didn’t mind. The Cauldron was kind for letting him see her once again before death.

“Help him, please.”

“Lena…”

Everything went black. He welcomed the darkness.

~~~~~

His head was throbbing.

He reached out to his shadows only to be met with… nothing. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t feel.

It all came rushing back to him. The humans. The fight. The faebane. The terrible, wonderful hallucination.

He tried to move, but his limbs felt like they were underwater.

Get up, get up, he told himself.

With a grunt of pain, he was able to open his eyes.

Only to be met with a small orange creature sitting on his chest. Two giant brown eyes blinked at him.

He yelped, his instincts taking over as his heavy limbs reached for his knives slower than he had ever moved before. The creature screamed as well — a high pitched noise as it jumped away, disappearing faster than he could track with his dulled senses.

He sat up, stumbling to his feet only to fall back down once again. He bit down hard on his lip as a pained cry tried to escape from him. His shoulder was dislocated.

Blinking through both the horrendous pain and the blurry film over his eyes, he was able to at least note that he was still in the Middle.

In the Middle, alone, with no magic and only one knife left on his person.

He was well and truly fucked.

But at least he was still alive. Impossibly so.

Still in a half-heap on the ground, the orange creature from before came waddling back up. It was small, perhaps the size of Azriel’s head. It had a single black stripe going down its back and giant brown eyes.

Azriel tried and failed to point his knife threateningly.

“Get back,” he said weakly, his voice hoarse. He was dehydrated. How long had he been on this forest floor? How was he not dead?

The creature only stared, blinking its big eyes. Its little hands moved from behind its back, revealing a leaf shaped like a bowl with water in it. Azriel cocked his head to the side.

“Going to help, going to help,” the creature murmured, waddling forward. Azriel tried to scoot back, only to stumble over a rock, his blade clattering away from him.

Is this what it feels like to be mortal? He thought to himself.

Azriel reached out from where he lay on his back and gripped Truth Teller as tightly as he could — which wasn’t much. The creature continued moving towards him, unafraid now as he approached the weakened shadowsinger.

“Going to help,” the creature repeated, holding out the leaf.

Azriel stared it down, thinking of the best way to kill this thing and get away as fast as possible. He had to get in contact with Rhys, perhaps get back into the Dawn Court, but that would be a death sentence too since he wasn’t even supposed to be there…

He looked down at the water the creature was offering. Slowly, carefully, it waddled closer and raised the leaf up to Azriel’s lips.

After sniffing the liquid — which was essentially useless considering the faebane’s lingering effects — Azriel let the creature tilt the liquid into his mouth. He swallowed heartily, hoping and praying to the Cauldron that it was just water.

After he finished, his throat already feeling better, the creature jumped backwards and held the leaf to its chest. A giant smile broke out on its face, two rows of sharp teeth on display.

“Breen helped, Breen helped!” It cheered happily.

What the hell?

Painfully, slowly, Azriel was able to sit up. With a few grunts he scooted back to lean against a tree. The creature — Breen — came and sat about three feet in front of him with a smile.

“Breen?” Azriel asked hoarsely. “Your name is Breen?” The creature nodded excitedly.

“Breen helping!” It said. “Breen helping, the lady asked Breen to help so Breen helped.”

Azriel perked up at that, his eyes widening.

“What lady?”

“Pretty lady, strong lady,” Breen answered quickly. Before Azriel could say another word, Breen waddled over a few meters to his left to another tree and pulled up a root. He blew the dirt off of it as he returned to Azriel. “Eat, eat.”

Azriel hesitated. “What is it?”

“Eat, eat!”

Azriel sighed, deciding he had literally no other options except to trust this tiny orange creature that could very well be trying to kill him. Taking the root in his shaking hands, he chewed it slowly. Almost immediately his headache subsided and he groaned, leaning his head back against the tree and loosing a breath of pure relief.

Breen cheered, hopping around on its webbed feet. Azriel lifted his head back up.

“What lady told you to help me?” He asked harshly, his mind flashing back to the hallucinations he had had of… her.

“Pretty lady, strong lady,” Breen repeated his words from earlier.

“What did she look like?”

Breen cocked his head to the side, blinking his giant eyes. 

“Scary eyed lady,” was all he said.

Azriel sighed, taking another bite of the root and breathing deeply. He would worry about whoever saved his ass later. Whoever it was, the faebane poisioning his mind and magic and body had turned them into Lena and thinking on that too much at that moment was… painful.

“Lady told me to help, Breen wants to help,” Breen said happily, gathering more of the root.

“Will this help me get my magic back?” Azriel asked as he held out the root.

Breen shook his head. “No, no magic. Not until next sun.”

Azriel cursed and Breen tilted his head, clearly not understanding.

“Where are we?”

“Breen’s home!”

“Which is…?”

“Away from the monsters.”

Azriel could have cried in relief. “There’s no other creatures around here? We’re safe?”

Breen tilted his head in confusion once again. “Lots of creatures here,” he said as if that were obvious. “But no pointy ears. Breen far from pointy ears.”

The fae. Breen thought the fae were the monsters — the ones playing with the humans for sport.

“The lady who brought me,” Azriel said slowly, “Was she a pointy eared monster?”

Breen nodded. Azriel pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger. What fae woman saved him back there and dumped him somewhere else in the Middle? Damn that faebane for getting him caught up in useless memories instead of seeing what was really there.

No, not useless. Just painful.

It didn’t matter. He would find out who the female was later.

He needed a plan right then — a plan to get home to the Night Court. He couldn’t wander further into the Middle with no magic, that would be a death sentence. Breen said his magic would be back by the following day, so he could leave then. At least wherever he and Breen were at that moment seemed to be free of some of the more awful creatures of the Middle.

But the sun was still up. When it went down…

“Well Breen,” Azriel said with a weak smile down at the harmless creature. “It looks like we’re going to be friends for the night.”

~~~~~

The sun fell over the next several hours as Breen chattered on with nonsense that Azriel couldn’t really understand. Regardless, Azriel was annoyed that he was becoming especially fond of the creature. It was innocent, and kind. Far different than anything he understood about the Middle.

At one point while Breen was jumping around excitedly muttering something about frogs, Azriel thought to himself that Lena would have loved the creature.

He was going to be stuck in his memories for the next decade. Damn that faebane.

It was only when the sun began making its final descent that Breen went silent. Azriel’s guard went up as he heard distant roaring.

The real monsters had come out to play.

Suddenly, Breen gestured Azriel to follow him up a tree. With a grunt, tucking his wings in tight with his pained muscles and weak shoulder that he had haphazardly popped back into place, he climbed after Breen.

He did so painfully, his equilibrium still severely off from the faebane, but getting better. It must have been a small, diluted amount that he inhaled for him to be feeling small bits of his magic bubbling to the surface. Not nearly enough to get himself out of the Middle before the morning, but something all the same.

After finally making it up the tree — not without almost falling a few times — he and Breen settled onto a branch, quiet as death. The hours of the night passed slowly, horrible sounds coming from seemingly all around them. At one point something particularly awful wandered close to their tree and Breen jumped into Azriel’s arms, hiding his face in the Illyrian’s leathers.

Azriel held him tight. If they died, Breen was as good as anyone to die with.

Somehow, they miraculously made it through the night. As the moon finally fell and the sun rose, the sounds of the creatures disappeared, the monsters retreating to whatever holes they hid in during the day.

When they finally felt completely safe, it was fully morning. Azriel’s shadows had emerged once more, but only at half their usual forced. He flexed his hands as he climbed down the tree, Breen perched on his back. His siphons flickered. Still weak, but… there.

Breen hopped off of Azriel’s back once they were back on the ground, and looked up at the shadowsinger with awe, his shadows reflecting in the creature’s big eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

He liked Breen, he was fond of him. And the creature saved his life. He was so at odds with everything Azriel believed about the Middle.

“Breen, do you like living here?”

Breen’s toothy smile disappeared and he shook his head. “No, Breen don’t like. Monsters and creatures try to hurt Breen.”

“Would you want to come with me?”

“Do you have pointy eared monsters?”

Azriel nodded. “But they’re safe. I promise.” He knelt down, extending a calloused, scarred hand for Breen to jump in to. He lifted Breen so they were eye level. “You helped me, Breen. I can help you now too.”

Breen’s sharp teeth flashed once again.

“Breen helped!” He shouted excitedly.

He hopped down from Azriel’s hand, bounding all about and cheering. Azriel couldn’t help but smile, taking Breen’s reaction as a yes to coming back to Velaris with him. Mor was going to adore him.

“Breen helped, Breen h—”

Bree went silent as an arrow went straight through his eye.

Azriel roared, turning and raising a horribly weak blue shield just in time to avoid two ash arrows hitting his own body. The shield gave out almost instantly and Azriel just barely managed to pick up Breen’s limp body in one hand and dive behind a tree, avoiding three more arrows.

Clutching Breen to his chest, he glanced around the tree for a split second. His vision was still weak, but there were at least three fae shooting at him — one of them the cloaked figure from the day prior. Whoever had saved him hadn’t killed the fae leader.

But that didn’t make any sense. How had he gotten out of there?

Not now, the shadows said weakly.

He couldn’t fight them. The arrows stopped suddenly and he heard laughter. The fae were stalking towards him.

Flexing his hand, Azriel looked down at his siphons. He said a quick prayer to the Cauldron and tapped into every ounce of magic and willpower he could muster, and winnowed.

It hurt.

He cried out in pain, holding Breen as tightly as he could as he winnowed, the blue of his siphons cutting at his skin. Seconds later, after fearing he would be ripped in half, he landed on his back — crying out as he fell upon the damp, cold ground.

With a groan, he sat up. He had made it just outside Velaris, on the cliffs by the sea. If he squinted, he could see the city a few miles off.

He looked down at his hands. At Breen’s tiny, limp body.

The small creature with a toothy smile that just wanted to help. A dreamer stuck in the Middle.

He buried him on the cliffs overlooking the sea. He hoped Breen would have liked it. He had a feeling the creature would have liked anything that wasn’t the Middle.

When Azriel got back to Velaris, he didn’t tell his family about his hallucinations. They didn’t need to have those memories bubbling to the surface, he didn’t want them to have to share that burden.

He did tell them about the fae from Hybern though. And about the faebane. And about Breen.

Mor cried when she heard what happened to him.

Three days later when Azriel was fully recovered, he, Rhys, Cassian, and Mor all went back to the Middle. Amren stayed to watch Velaris, much to her discontent.

They slaughtered twelve fae that were toying with the humans and returned the tortured humans back to their lands after Rhys wiped their memory.

The cloaked leader was nowhere in sight.

He would find them though. One day. 

[azrielsiphons]

Prequel; Azriel-Centric Stories Set Before ACTOAR (ch. 5)

This is a collection of interconnected short stories about Azriel’s life before any of the events of ACOTAR through ACOWAR.

CHAPTER 5: DASK 

Make sure to read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 4.5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Read the follow up fic, Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same

Time Frame: 50 years after Rhys is made High Lord 

Summary: Azriel comes back to Velaris after a scouting mission in the Autumn Court. While home, he breaks a tradition that he, Rhys, and Cassian had set almost 50 years ago.

“This is bullshit,” Mor snapped, her boots clacking against the tile as she hurried to match Azriel’s heavy stride. “I have the right to know what you saw.”

“That’s not for me to decide.” Azriel’s voice was low, laced with something… heavy. “Ask Rhys about it.”

“Rhys thinks he’s protecting me by keeping everything hidden,” Mor scoffed.

“Is that so bad?”

“I decide what’s good for me, Az. Just me.”

With a sigh, Azriel came to a stop, turning to face Mor head on. Her brows were raised, arms crossed and hip jutted out as she waited on him to speak.

“I know you do,” he said softly. He could tell Mor was inspecting the bags under his eyes — far worse than usual. “Tell Rhys as much, you know he just wants you to feel safe. If you pester him enough he’ll tell you everything I’m going to tell him.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now?”

“You know that’s not how it works.”

“I outrank you in case you’ve forgotten.”

Azriel laughed, the sound carrying not even a hint of humor. Mor sighed, rolling her eyes. It was a cheap shot and they both knew it. They never pulled rank in their Circle.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But just tell me one thing. Are they all still alive?”

Azriel took a deep breath. He knew who she was referring to. He’d spent the last two weeks on the outskirts of the Autumn Court, monitoring Beron and his sons. Two weeks of barely held restraint as he watched and listened to the males who had almost destroyed Mor. Had humiliated her, left her in that forest for him to find, barely hanging on to that thread of life.

“They’re alive,” he said softly. Mor’s eyes flashed. He had a feeling she was neither content nor disgruntled. She likely felt something horribly in between. “For now.”

Mor only nodded, hand reaching out to rest on Azriel’s arm for the briefest of seconds before turning on her heel and striding off to who knows where. He watched her leave, his mind flashing back to a day when a different female had stormed away from him in—

Now isn’t the time, the shadows whispered in his ear.

With a deep breath, Azriel shook his head and continued his trek to meet Rhys and Cassian. Along the way he passed Amren laid out on a chaise lounge with a glass of what certainly didn’t smell like wine. She raised it in a toast to him with a vile smirk. He kept walking.

“…about him. He’s the only one of us who never mentions her.”

Azriel froze, his enhanced hearing picking up Cassian’s voice several meters away from Rhys’s office. He could hear his brothers from this distance, but they couldn’t quite detect him yet.

“He copes differently, you know he does.”

“That doesn’t make it healthy, Rhys.”

“Well what do you propose to do about it? Sit him down around a fire while we all share our favorite memories of—”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m not. You remember how he was when we first… Look, he’s better. We all are. I won’t push him to talk or open up because that’s only going to make him shut down.”

“I still think there was something more. Something he didn’t tell us.”

“Of course there was something he didn’t tell us. He’s Azriel.”

“Well she didn’t tell us either.”

There was a long pause. Azriel clenched his fists at his side to keep his hands from shaking.

“I won’t pretend to have always understood why she did the things she did,” Rhys said softly. Azriel barely picked it up. “But L—”

Azriel strode forward, making his steps heavier than necessary. The conversation silenced immediately.

“There’s the second best bastard I know,” Cassian said with a grin as Azriel rounded the corner. “Myself being the first of course.”

“Always humble, brother,” Rhys muttered, though his voice carried fondness. “You alright?” He directed to Az.

Azriel nodded, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “Mor cornered me on the way in,” he said bluntly. Rhys cursed. “I told her to come to you, so prepare yourself for that conversation.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Cassian said. “If that’s alright with you.” He looked at Rhys.

Rhys nodded. “No, that’d be better. She might not throttle you if you’re the one delivering the information.”

Cassian barked a laugh. “We’ll see about that.” He turned back to Azriel, perching on top of Rhys’s desk. “Well? What’d you learn?”

Over the next several minutes Azriel recounted what he had seen at the Autumn Court — which wasn’t much. The rumors that Beron was growing his army exponentially didn’t seem to hold any weight. And Azriel’s spies inside the Court reported that nothing seemed to be especially amiss.

“Sounds like someone is trying to stir up trouble,” Rhys muttered. “And for once, it’s not Beron himself.”

“Tamlin has several young new scouts,” Azriel weighed in. “They might have seen him training his guard and jumped to conclusions.”

Rhys nodded, loosing a breath as he rolled his neck. “Well, I hate that I sent you on a fool’s errand. But at least Beron isn’t getting war hungry again.”

“Remind me again why any of them are still alive?” Cassian asked darkly.

Rhys offered a weak smile. “Politics, brother.”

“Well your politics can suck my cock.”

Rhys laughed, and Azriel offered a small smile. In other circumstances, he would have laughed at Cassian’s immaturity. But not then. Not on that day.

Rhys must have sensed the feelings stirring in Azriel’s chest and he looked over at his friend and spymaster.

“Still planning on drinking with us tonight?” He asked.

Azriel shook his head. “No, not tonight. I… need to spend it alone.”

“Az, come on,” Cassian said.

“Let him be—”

“No.” Cassian held out a hand to Rhys. “This is tradition. It’s what she would have—”

“Don’t.” Azriel’s voice was as low as death, his narrowed eyes saying as much. Cassian only scoffed, shaking his head.

“It’s hard on us, too,” he said quietly. Azriel went still, though his shadows swirled. “And you know I’m right. It’s what she would have wanted.”

Azriel did know. He just didn’t want to admit it because it meant thinking about her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” was all he said. He ignored Cassian’s calls out to him as he snapped out his wings and flew from the House of Wind to the waiting city below.

~~~~

Azriel stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the sun over the docks. He hadn’t been to the spot in years. With reason.

The sky changed colors as the sun continued its descent beneath the waves. The salty air reminded him of the Summer Court. He briefly wondered if Dorea was doing well - the last he had heard of her was that she had given birth to a healthy young boy. That was almost ten years ago.

With a deep breath and a shake of his head, Azriel returned his attention to the sky. Continuing his thoughts of the Summer Court would only result in memories of a blue dress that matched his siphons and a seer whose words still occasionally haunted his dreams.

The horizon became a canvas of orange and pink, slowly giving way to a stunning shade of violet.

It was that that had Azriel turning on his heel and striding into the bar he had come all the way out to the docks for. He wanted to try somewhere new, and anywhere but Rita’s where Mor would be dancing the night away, coping in her own way on this terrible day.

Stepping inside, several eyes turned to look at the Shadowsinger, but none with contempt or disgust. No one’s eyes lingered on his scars or his shadows. They mostly looked at him with intrigue, knowing that he was in their new, kinder High Lord’s Inner Circle as spymaster.

Azriel strode for the bar, taking a seat on the stool with a graceful maneuver of his wings.

“We might have to get bigger chairs if you start coming here regularly.”

Azriel looked up at the male bartender speaking to him. He had dark brown skin, short curly hair and eyes of the brightest blue. He smiled widely as he tossed a cleaning rag over his shoulder, bracing his palms against the bar.

“I bet those wings get in the way of all sorts of things,” he mused curiously.

Azriel shrugged. “The benefits outweigh the irritations. Whiskey, please.”

The male chuckled, pulling out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. “I mean it though,” he said as he poured. “We can get bigger chairs. We want to accommodate everyone we can here.”

“Do you own this place?”

The male shook his head. “No, it’s my father’s.”

Azriel only nodded, taking the glass and throwing it back in one. The male whistled.

“Rough night I take it?”

“Not yet.” Azriel tapped the glass on the table and nodded for the male to pour again. He obliged.

“My name is Dask, by the way.”

“Azriel,” the shadowsinger murmured, taking the glass with a sip rather than a gulp.

“Oh I know,” Dask said with a grin. “You’re in the High Lord’s Circle. I’ve seen you around, just never in here.”

Azriel chuckled humorlessly. “It’s not personal. I tend to avoid the docks.”

“Why is that?”

Azriel tensed. “Bad memories.”

“Ah.” Dask nodded, pursing his lips together. A moment passed and he reached out, taking Azriel’s unfinished glass and filling it to the brim. He slid it back with a smile. At Azriel’s questioning look, he only said, “On the house. For the bad memories.”

Azriel nodded his thanks even though he knew from experience that no drink could successfully drown out what was forever rooted in his heart. Not that it didn’t help, which it did. So he kept drinking.

Over the rim of the glass, Dask met Azriel’s eyes, holding the shadowsinger’s gaze. The corners of his lips turned up in something much more than mere curiosity.

“So the shadows,” Bask said. “What do they do?”

Azriel chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You know most people don’t ask.”

Dask shrugged. “Call me curious. And call you tipsy. What are they for?”

Azriel couldn’t argue with that logic. And the male was harmless enough. “I spent a long time in darkness,” he said quietly, without emotion. “Decided to make it my own.” He took a sip.

“So I take it you’re not so scared of the dark anymore?”

There was a pause. “No. No, it doesn’t frighten me anymore.”

Dask nodded, pulling out another glass and filling it halfway. He held it out as a toast. “To darkness,” he said with a smile. “And those shadows of yours.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed imperceptibly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed heavily. He raised his own glass, clinking it against Dask’s.

“One and the same,” he whispered. Dask looked at him curiously, but didn’t question the words. They drank, draining their glasses.

Dask caught Azriel’s eye once again, his brow raising in question. Azriel sighed, looking Dask up and down unabashedly.

Might as well, he thought to himself as he tapped his glass once again.

Everyone has their own coping mechanisms after all.

~~~~~

Hours later, Dask’s soft breathing was the only sound inside Azriel’s small townhouse. The male was lying on his bare stomach next to Azriel, his face smushed against the pillow as he breathed deeply in his sleep. Azriel lay next to him, the sheets tangled around his naked waist. He had an arm behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Silently, he slid out of the bed and pulled on a pair of loose cotton pants. Without even a glance back at Dask, he grabbed the bottle Dask had slipped them from the bar and winnowed to the roof.

The moon was high in the sky as it was well after midnight. With one hand in his pocket and one on the neck of the bottle, he took a long pull, lifting his gaze up to the stars. They just didn’t seem so bright anymore.

That icy rage ever present in Azriel’s chest began to boil up as his eyes trained on those bright spots in the sky — those stars that used to bring him such comfort. Now looking up at them all he felt was… empty.

He was filled to the brim with emptiness. The ultimate paradox of pain.

With a broken cry from deep within his soul, Azriel hurled the bottle as far as he could. It sailed through the sky, blocks over, shattering atop a nearby building. He couldn’t find it within him to care who he disturbed.

With heavy, shaking breaths, his chest heaved. Sweat dripped down his temples, the muscles in his back and arms contracting as he flexed his fists.

Downstairs, he hears Dask grab his clothes and slip out of the bedroom. Good.

With one last labored exhale and a single tear falling down his cheek, Azriel shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up to the stars once more. The stars that didn’t shine so bright in a world without the female who had been a star in her own right.

His whispered words were carried away by the sea breeze she had loved so much.

“Happy birthday, Lena.”

[azrielsiphons]

Prequel: Azriel-Centric Stories Set Before ACOTAR (ch. 4.5)

This is a collection of interconnected short stories about Azriel’s life before any of the events of ACOTAR through ACOWAR.

CHAPTER 4.5: LENA (6.5k words)

Make sure to read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Read the follow up fic, Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same

Time Frame: Immediately after the events of Chapter 4; 2 years before Rhys is made High Lord

Summary: With emotions running high and tense between Azriel and Lena after their mission together, Lena’s father allows her to come with him to the Summer Court for an event as a birthday present. Azriel is asked to accompany her. 

(NOTE: DEFINITELY read Chapter 4 before reading this one... the other chapters can be read as standalones, but not this one. Enjoy!)

Azriel slept - hard. His heart weighed heavier than it had in a long time, the skin where she had laid her hand over his chest burning even hours later.

I’m sorry.

That’s what he had said to her. To her unspoken request as her lips hovered over his, to the way she looked at him as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world when that was far from the truth.

I’m sorry.

She would never understand how sorry he was. Sorry for being a bastard when she was a queen. Sorry for tainting her skin every time he touched her, held her. Sorry for letting it get so far - for not stopping it before now.

Sorry for loving her.

No, you’re not sorry for that, the shadows whispered.

Azriel groaned, pushing the shadows away with a thought and squinting his eyes against the bright light pouring in through his window. The sheets pooled around his waist as he stretched, his body aching for a million different reasons. The fights with the creature and with Rhys the day before being the primary.

The fights that Lena had saved his ass in.

Always fighting for you, the shadows pestered. And you so rarely for her. An uneven pair you two make.

Rolling his aching shoulders, Azriel combed his fingers through his messy hair. He dressed quickly, doubting he would get a decent day of rest despite getting back from the day’s previous mission so quickly. Lena and Rhys’s father would be back today and already have something in mind for him.

Realization clanged through him in a split second, his heart stuttering in his chest. The following day was Lena’s birthday - her twentieth. He had wanted to spend time with her, Rhys, Cassian, and Wren. He had already gotten her gift months ago - a custom made bracelet with the Illyrian symbols for strength and loyalty created out of the silver metal.

And now things were… he didn’t know what they were. But they weren’t in a position where that would be appropriate.

Azriel cringed, buckling the last of his leathers. He never thought the day would come that things with he and Lena would be this… strange. Tense.

And yet here they were. Both in a place where —

The sudden knock on the door had Azriel thinking for the briefest of moments that she had come to him. Had somehow felt what he was feeling.

“It’s an hour past sunrise, you prick,” Cassian’s voice rang out. Azriel heard Rhys chuckle as well. “We have things to do, get your lazy ass up.”

Azriel sighed, opening the door to see his brothers standing there dressed similarly. Cassian was smirking, and Rhys looked tense, to say the least.

“Well you look like shit,” Cassian said bluntly. “I expected your nose to be broken.”

“It was.”

“Lena fixed it?”

Azriel cringed. “No, I took care of it myself.” He looked over to Rhys. “No punches this morning, brother?”

“Well it’s not even noon.” The slightest of smiles graced Rhys’s features - so similar to Lena’s - before he looked down at his feet. “I’m not sorry, so don’t expect an apology.”

“I wasn’t.”

“But I admit that I could have gone about my anger… a bit differently.”

“Left hook instead of a right?”

“Azriel he’s trying to be serious,” Cassian cut in. “It’s very difficult for him, let him have his moment.”

“Fuck off,” Rhys snapped. Cassian only laughed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his ankles.

“It’s fine,” Azriel said quickly, silencing whatever Rhys had been about to say next. “I deserved it.”

Rhys’s eyes widened, but he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, you did. And I deserved the throttling I got from Lena, too.”

“And Wren?”

Rhys sighed, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. “Don’t worry, my mother was far worse than Lena. And they were both right… I tend to want to see her safe more than I want to see her do… anything else.”

“Just like your father.”

The air seemed to leave the room instantaneously as Cassian and Rhys whipped their heads up to stare at Azriel.

“Easy,” Cassian said calmly, holding his hands out between the two. Darkness rippled off of Rhys’s shoulders.

“Watch it, Az,” Rhys said lowly. “I admitted that Lena was right, that I need to do better—”

“Really? I didn’t catch that last part.”

“Well I do,” Rhys growled. He loosed a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. “I know I’m unfair, and I know I need to trust her more. Believe in her more, and tell her as much. It’s just… she’s so…”

“I know,” Azriel said softly. Rhys’s eyes met his with sympathy and… something else. “I want to keep her safe just as much as you do, Rhys. We both do.” He gestured to Cassian. “But she’s teaching me that… safe isn’t always best. And she’s capable. More than I thought.”

Rhys’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Well she saved my ass yesterday.”

“Oh please, I punched you once—”

“No, before that. On the mission.”

Cassian barked a laugh. “Come again?” He asked.

So Azriel told them. About the mission — the bartender she charmed into revealing information, the magic she displayed fighting the creature, the tree that she misted to save the children. While he was speaking they walked to the training room, Rhys and Cassian offering questions at various parts.

“Well damn,” Cassian whispered as the story was finished and they approached the training room. “I certainly feel like an ass now. Sounds like she would make a hell of a spy.”

“Gave me a run for my money,” Azriel muttered, though a smile graced his lips.

Rhys was silent, his eyes churning in tune with his thoughts.

Cassian continued to ask questions about the creature until the trio heard someone in the training room.

“Well she’s up early,” Cassian remarked, glancing over to Azriel who had gone pale. “You alright?”

“Of course.”

He was lying.

They stepped in, Lena’s frustrated grunts louder as she came into view. Azriel felt his mind go blank for a split second as he took her in: in leathers and a bind across her breasts, her dark hair in a braid cascading down her back. Stray hairs stuck to her face as sweat poured down her body. She was sword training, the sleek Illyrian blade cutting through the air as if an extension of her body. Her toned abdominals and arms clenched with every movement.

She was a vision.

With a whoosh of breath she spun and lunged, thrusting the sword forward and expertly cutting through the air. Cassian whistled lowly and Azriel tensed.

“Watch your back foot, you’ll get off balance,” Rhys called out.

Lena’s eyes rolled so hard Azriel wondered if it hurt. She stood to her full height, spinning the sword deftly at her side as she turned to face them. Her eyes went straight to her brother, not stopping on Azriel for even a second.

She gave Rhys a mocking smirk that would have sent any other males running.

“How’s your side doing, brother dearest? I hope it healed alright.”

Cassian coughed as Rhys narrowed his eyes. Lena only widened her grin as they all thought back to the previous night when she had had a knife at Rhys’s side and an arm at his throat.

“Just be glad I only felt like coming after Azriel last night,” Rhys hissed, but the words didn’t carry any real weight.

Lena scoffed, walking over to the wall and hanging the sword up on the wall. Azriel forced himself not to watch the sway of her hips.

“You’re an idiot,” Lena muttered, whirling on them once again and crossing her arms, pushing up her bound breasts. “You should have punched me, not him. And you—” Azriel started as she turned and looked at him finally, pointing. “Should have punched him back.”

“Well you went after him before I had the chance.”

“As if you would have,” Lena muttered without any bite. Azriel couldn’t help but smile softly, and Lena’s eyes brightened, her eyes following the motion of his lips. “Regardless, are you over your childish fit now?” She directed her attention back to Rhys.

“It is not childish to be concerned for your safety.”

“It’s childish to doubt me, you ass.”

Rhys closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Lena, I’m sorry for doubting you. You are strong and capable and I thank you for being there and saving Azriel’s ass.”

Lena whipped her head to face Azriel, her eyes wide. “You didn’t have to tell them that,” she said softly.

“I know.”

Hazel eyes met violet ones, the air crackling between them. With a sharp inhale she turned back to Rhys.

“You’re right, and you’re welcome,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I accept your apology. Now are you going to trust me to take care of myself from now on?”

“Are you going to trust me enough to let me know when you run off with Azriel in the middle of the night?”

A knowing smirk crossed her features and Azriel groaned as Cassian shook with barely restrained laughter beside him.

“Well Rhys,” Lena drawled, “If I let you know every time Azriel and I ran off in the middle of the night you’d never get any sleep now would you?”

“Lena,” Azriel groaned, pinching his nose with his index finger and thumb.

“I mean honestly Rhys, if I have to let you know about every single nighttime rendezvous Az and I have, we’ll need to set up some sort of daily calling card, or a calendar system, or—”

“Okay, okay,” Rhys interrupted, holding his hands out to cut her off. Cassian was choking trying to hold back his laughter and Azriel couldn’t have looked her in the eye if he tried. “I don’t mind what your night life is like in… that way, but please don’t talk about it, I’d rather not have that mental image.”

Lena and Cassian lost it while Rhys only walked over to grab a sword of his own, cursing under his breath about how the thought of his little sister having sex was too scarring and he hated all of them. Azriel followed promptly, not daring to look Rhys in the eye in case he believed Lena. If Rhys actually thought that the two of them were together… he didn’t want to think about the repercussions of that. For either of them.

It was when Cassian made a comment about how Lena should try some nighttime activities while flying that Rhys finally snapped, turning around and telling them both to be quiet. More bickering ensued and even though Azriel would rather the bickering not center around Lena’s sex life, it was… nice. Routine for them. The four of them fought often, but never like they had the night before.

“Cassian if you mention my sister’s breasts one more time, I’m not going to go easy on you,” Rhys snapped suddenly. Cassian bowed up, grinning madly.

“Is that a promise?” Cassian shot back, cracking his neck as he squared up against Rhys.

A heartbeat later they were grappling, swords tossed aside. Azriel chuckled as Cassian cursed, Rhys flipping him on his back. Lena’s eyes snapped over to his at the sound of his laughter.

Their eyes met, a moment passing between them full of questions. But the one that Lena asked was —

“Swords or sticks?”

Azriel blinked. “Sticks,” he said finally, his voice hoarse.

Lena only nodded, walking over to the wall with the weapons on it, giving Rhys and Cassian a wide birth. She grabbed two of the training sticks, tossing one deftly over to Azriel. He caught it easily, his eyes never leaving Lena’s form.

Lena led the way out of the room and onto the attached balcony, Rhys and Cassian’s grunts fading as they walked. Lena sighed, looking up at the sky and smiling as they stepped into the sunlight.

Azriel was watching her so intently he almost missed her whirling around and swinging the training stick right at his head. He blocked in time, but not well, stumbling to the side a step.

He cocked his head to the side at her and she grinned.

“Not fair,” he mumbled, knowing good and well that she knew he would be watching her instead of her movements.

“Don’t be so easily distracted.”

“Don’t be so distracting.”

“If I can’t use my beauty to unnerve you ridiculous males, what’s the point?”

Azriel pushed her stick away from his face, pacing around her. His eyes never left hers as they circled. He waited on her to strike - she always struck first.

She went for his legs, lunging deftly. Azriel parried easily. With a spin she was back on her feet and grinning wildly.

“Are we okay?” She asked. As Azriel took a breath, preparing an answer, she swung once again. He blocked. “After last night I mean.” Another swing, another block. She was playing with him. “Because we need to be okay.”

Azriel paused, taking in her sharp features. She was masking whatever she was really feeling, but it was clear she was worried.

“We’re okay,” Azriel said softly, worrying that his brothers would be eavesdropping like the busybodies they were. “I’m s—”

Lena swung — hard. Azriel leapt back as the stick flew at his chest, narrowly avoiding it. He brought his stick up just in time to block her overhead swing aimed right at his head. He glared in question.

“Don’t apologize to me,” Lena said lowly, her eyes darkening. She pressed down against his block, their bodies separated only by a few inches of space. “Not about that.”

With her this close to him, Azriel finally noticed the bags beneath her eyes — far worse than usual.

“Did you sleep last night?”

Lena huffed, shoving off of him. The heat from her body was missed the moment it was gone.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lena continued, pointedly ignoring his question. “Not for taking me on the mission, not for Rhys, and certainly not for what happened on the balcony.”

Azriel loosed a breath, Lena’s stare touching something deep down in his soul. Pulling on something within him that he was afraid to feel. Just as he opened his mouth to speak though, Lena’s father stepped in the room.

Lena visibly paled, stepping around Azriel quickly and walking ahead of him into the main training room. Rhys and Cassian had already scrambled to their feet as Aeron strode into the room, head high and intimidation tactics suffocating.

He surveyed the room with nothing more than a nod. Lena slyly stepped in front of Azriel, a towel now in her hand as she wiped her face and neck.

“Father,” she said simply, partially hiding Azriel from view. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Azriel knew how much she hated her father. He knew it all too well — had even kept her from killing him years ago. But he couldn’t think about that now.

“Well when you weren’t in your room I knew you would be wherever these three were,” he muttered, reaching into a pocket realm and pulling out a gray tunic. He surveyed Lena’s upper half before tossing it to her.

Lena caught the shirt, her body tensing at the implication. There was a pregnant pause before she finally pulled it on over her head. Rhys’s glare was boring holes in his father’s back.

“I have a surprise for you,” Aeron said suddenly, his smile wide and only somewhat worrisome. “I know your birthday is tomorrow, but I have a gift for you today.”

Lena froze, clearly worried about this surprise. “What is it?” She asked, her voice trembling only slightly. Azriel doubted Aeron even noticed, but he and Rhys and Cassian certainly did.

“Well as you likely know, the Summer Court is having its annual Tides Festival today. High Lord Narayan is insistent that all Court leaders and their families are invited and your mother and I wish for you to attend with us.”

Lena froze. “You… what?”

Her voice was small, her mouth parted slightly in shock. She had never been allowed to leave the Night Court, and only allowed to leave Velaris a handful of times. She had been begging for years to visit the other Courts when her father went on diplomatic missions.

“You’re coming with us to the festival,” Aeron said with a wide grin. “You’re going to be twenty and I’ll admit that I… I’ve kept you here for too long. Your mother is helping me realize that.”

Lena’s hands shook as she smiled, looking over at Rhys in disbelief. He looked just as stunned as she did. Looking back to her father she opened her mouth to say something, only to be at a complete loss for words.

Aeron grinned, clearly proud of himself. “You’re welcome,” he said arrogantly. Surveying Rhys and Cassian once more, he nodded and turned on his heel to leave. “Oh and you,” he spun back around quickly, pointing at Azriel behind Lena. Lena tensed. “You’ll be joining us as well. Be ready by noon.”

Azriel gave a respectful nod. With one last look around at the room, Aeron left.

The four of them stayed silent until they all knew Aeron was well out of hearing range.

“What just… happened?” Lena asked, looking over her shoulder at Azriel with wide, somewhat fearful eyes. The vulnerability on her face was enough to knock the breath from his chest. “He’s never let me leave the Court before.”

“Mother has to be the one talking him into this,” Rhys said quickly. “Don’t question it Lena, this is a good thing.”

“Don’t question it?” Lena snapped, whipping her head around to face him. “Rhys do you honestly think he doesn’t have some sort of secret motive? He’s probably planning to marry me off to one of the Summer Court Princes or—”

“We won’t let that happen,” Cassian snarled. With her back to Azriel, Lena couldn’t see the expression of pure rage on his shadowed face. “You’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. Your mother probably talked him into it.”

After talking for a few more minutes, Rhys was finally the one to convince Lena to take the offer while she had the chance. Azriel said nothing as she looked back at him once with an unreadable expression before leaving to go get ready. He watched her all the way out of the room, his heart lurching in his chest as she stepped out of sight.

Rhys sighed, running a hand through his hair before muttering something about going to talk with his mother before leaving as well. When both of the siblings were well gone, Cassian turned to a still frozen Azriel.

“What?” Azriel snapped. Cassian only chuckled.

“Still haven’t admitted it to yourself, have you?” He asked. Azriel said nothing. “Just be careful. You hurt her, I have to kill you. She hurts you, I have to kill her. I’m in a tough position, brother.”

With a clap on Azriel’s shoulder, Cassian gave him a sympathetic smile before striding for the door. Just as he reached it though, he froze as Azriel said softly,

“I admitted it to myself a long time ago.”

~~~~~

“Go change.”

“Father—”

“This is not a negotiation Lena, now go change into the dress you were given.”

“This is ridiculous, I’m being respectful.”

“Respectful? You should be showing respect to our Court, not theirs.”

Lena was fuming as she stared her father down, refusing to cower or give in. Azriel stood behind her while Wren stood behind her mate, watching the argument go down and wondering which of them would blow up first.

While Azriel, Wren, and Aeron were all wearing blacks and silvers in their dress, Lena was wearing a light blue dress that hugged the curves of her torso before billowing out in a silky skirt at her waist. Her golden brown shoulders were bare and Azriel’s eyes kept flitting to the soft skin.

“This is your first visit to another court,” Aeron said roughly. “I suggest you listen to me not only as your father and High Lord, but also because I have quite a bit more experience at intercourt relations than you. You are the Daughter of the Night Court, not the Summer Court. You will wear our colors.”

“I am no less your heir if I wear black or blue or green,” Lena seethed. “And perhaps my lack of experience is a good thing. There has always been underlying division between all of the courts because of this exact kind of isolationist attitude. Why don’t we try to embrace the Summer Court’s culture rather than overlooking it?”

“You are being prideful and—”

“Pride is the exact opposite of what I am being!” Lena shouted. Azriel tensed, his shadows hovering over his blades. No one interrupted Aeron and certainly no one spoke to him that way. Lena was playing with fire. “Pride is what divides these Courts, Father.” Her voice dropped to an almost whisper. “There will come a day when another war is fought and if we don’t start playing nice with the other Courts now in preparation for that day, we might not win next time. I will sacrifice my Night Court pride for the sake of Prythian because that is the greater good. Honestly, Father. It’s just a dress, but… it could be much more.”

Aeron was silent, but Wren was beaming with pride over his shoulder. Azriel’s shadows swirled around his knife as Aeron’s glare hardened impossibly further, but then—

“Fine,” Aeron muttered. He turned and offered Wren his hand for them to winnow, and the second he wasn’t looking Lena looked over her shoulder and grinned widely at Azriel, winking at him before turning back. “We’ll winnow just outside the city where one of Adriata’s princes will greet us. You,” he looked at Azriel, “Don’t leave her side.”

He took Wren’s hand and then Lena’s, huffing as she smiled up at Azriel before lacing her fingers through his own. He cringed at the sight of her skin against his, but then they were being flung through darkness, air whipping all around them as they Aeron winnowed them to the Summer Court.

They landed on soft grass, the sunlight almost blinding. Azriel blinked, moving to release Lena’s hand but she only gripped tighter. He looked down at her only to be struck stupid.

Her mouth was parted in awe, her eyes shining. Her hair blew back, the skirts of her dress billowing around her as the wind from the ocean kissed her skin. Azriel knew she was looking out at the ocean and the city, but he couldn’t be bothered to look away from her for even a second.

He wanted to see her with that expression every day of his life.

“It’s… beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Why thank you,” an unfamiliar male voice called out. Lena whipped her head around, still clutching Azriel’s hand tightly in her own. Her mother and father had already greeted the male. “Welcome to Adriata,” he said kindly, his dark skin and bright smile glowing in the sunlight. “I am Solomon, Prince of Adriata. And you must be Lena, Daughter of the Night Court.”

Lena blushed visibly, squeezing Azriel’s hand once more before releasing it and stepping up to Solomon, letting him take her hand and raise it to his lips. Azriel tensed.

“Please, just call me Lena,” she said politely. “I’m not one for titles.”

“Ah, an informal diplomat, finally,” Solomon said exasperatedly. “I’ve been waiting all my life for someone like you.”

Lena laughed lightly, a smile that reached her eyes taking over her face. Azriel could only watch where he stood.

“My daughter is here as a visitor for the festival,” Aeron cut in haughtily. “Not a diplomat.”

Lena shrunk, the smile on her face disappearing as if she had been struck.

“Not yet at least.”

Azriel didn’t realize he had spoken the words aloud until Lena whipped her head around to face him, eyes wide. He could feel Aeron’s glare on him, but he only had eyes for her.

“Well when the day comes that you are here in your full capacity, I greatly look forward to it,” Solomon said quickly, breaking the tension between them all. “Come. Let me show you my city.”

Solomon offered his arm to Lena which she took with a smile, letting him lead the group into Adriata. As Azriel took a step though, Aeron was in front of him with a hand on his chest and death in his eyes.

“Remember who you are, boy,” he said lowly.

“Aeron,” Wren snapped, putting her hand on her mate’s arm and pulling him none too gently. He let go quickly, spinning on his heel and stalking after Solomon and Lena.

Wren looked over at Azriel with a heartbreaking expression. He knew how much it hurt her to be in the position she was in; to have a mate who didn’t respect their children or Cassian or himself, who she counted as her own children. She deserved better.

He offered her his arm with a small smile. She took it gratefully, patting his hand as they strode after the rest of the family that would never quite be his.

~~~~~

After a courteous introduction to High Lord Narayan, an intense yet exuberant male, Aeron gave Lena permission to peruse the festival. He tried to insist that she go with Solomon and not Azriel, but a few minutes of her exceptional charm on Narayan had him telling Aeron that the festival was to be experienced, not toured. Aeron caved with a grimace and a glare at Azriel.

Lena was a bundle of energy. The moment they stepped out of the Prince’s palace and onto the street, she was everywhere. Azriel trailed behind, always keeping an eye on her but letting her flit about and try every bit of food she came across, buy at least three pieces of jewelry from various vendors, and dodge little children running about.

Her smile never left her face. Azriel didn’t think he had ever seen her this happy.

“Hey!” He looked up at the sound of her voice to see her standing in front of another vendor of some sort, gesturing wildly for him to join her. He smiled softly, striding to her side. “Pick one,” she said bluntly, gesturing to three different rings of flowers. He raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Just pick one,” she repeated, giving him a look that said he better do it. With a sigh, he pointed to the ring of white flowers. She grinned wildly, handing the vendor three coins with a smile. She picked up the crown and plopped it on top of Azriel’s head, maneuvering it through his hair. When she pulled back she couldn’t help but laugh at his annoyed expression.

“I thought I was picking for you,” he deadpanned. Lena only laughed harder and he groaned. “Lena I have a reputation.”

With a roll of her eyes and a fond smile, she reached up and grabbed the flower crown out of his hair, placing it on her own head.

“Such a spoil sport,” she murmured, smiling up at him from beneath her long lashes. “Imagine if Cassian and Rhys had seen you. You would make all the Illyrians jealous.”

Azriel chuckled, hands folded behind his back as he walked alongside her.

“The only thing the other Illyrians have to be jealous of me for is that I get to spend so much time with you.”

Lena froze, looking up at Azriel with a much more serious expression. He looked down at her, already regretting the words.

“Why did you say that before?” She asked softly, the sounds of the festival fading away. “About me being a diplomat one day. My father looked like he wanted to kill you.”

Azriel searched for the right words. “I just… said it. I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. Even though I did mean it.”

Lena smiled softly, the ocean breeze blowing at her back. Without thinking, Azriel reached forward and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She grabbed his hand in her own before he could pull away.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her gaze piercing.

Before Azriel could think of what to say or do next, a female burst out of the tent they were standing by. Instinctively, he pulled Lena behind him by the very hand she had been holding. His other hand hovered over his knife.

“You,” the female said gravely, pointing at Lena over Azriel’s shoulder. She was fae, dark blue swirls covering her skin. Wiry hair spilled over her shoulders and hid part of her face. “I felt you…” she whispered. “Come. Come, come.”

Without another word, the female rushed back inside her tent. Azriel looked over his shoulder at Lena, her free hand clutching his shoulder.

“She’s harmless,” a vendor called out from the other side of the tent.

“Who is she?” Azriel asked gruffly, all business.

“A seer. She can tell you your future. If you can decipher through the madness, that is.” The vendor looked at Lena. “It seems like she saw yours. I promise she won’t hurt you. She’s just a bit intense.”

“Thank you,” Lena said kindly. She nudged Azriel’s back. “Come on, let’s go in.”

“Really?” Azriel asked, every instinct within him telling him that he didn’t want to hear what that seer said. But there was no way in hell he was letting Lena go in there alone when the female had been that intense.

“Yes, come on!” She said excitedly, grabbing at his hand and pulling him towards the tent. He sighed, but let her lead him.

Like you always do, the shadows whispered.

They stepped into the tent slowly, the only light coming from the few holes pierced into the top of the tent. There was a round table set in the center, the blue-haired female sitting down expectantly.

“Sit, sit,” she said quickly, gesturing to the table. “Shadows and darkness, one and the same,” she murmured as the pair sat down slowly. Lena looked over at Azriel quickly before looking away. “Only one can survive without the other…”

The female trailed off, staring at Lena intensely. Azriel stiffened.

“So,” Lena said, smiling kindly. “You said that you… felt me? What did you mean?”

The seer grinned widely. “I felt you the moment you arrived. Darkness is heavy.”

Lena’s smiled dropped instantly.

“It’s so heavy,” the woman murmured. “Glittered hands press against the light only to burn with darkness. Stars fall, crash to the ground in a raging fire.”

The seer turned to Azriel and he almost growled. She only smiled.

“Scarred hands, forever afraid of that which can burn… Too afraid to catch the star as it streaks across the night sky…”

“Okay that’s enough,” Lena said abruptly, her kindness gone. She stood up only for the seer to reach out and grab her hand so quickly even Azriel didn’t catch it until it was happening.

Lena gasped, but as Azriel lunged to rip the woman off of her, he was met with Lena’s outstretched palm. He stopped immediately, but held his knife at the ready.

“The fight will never be fair,” the seer said darkly, staring into Lena’s eyes. “When red stains white you must stand in the black of the night. Chains of despair a monster will make… But while you remain in the shadows, there is a tomorrow to be won.” She leaned in closer, her face inches from Lena’s. “Wings of night so easily torn… kiss the sky while you can, my dear.”

Azriel’s hand clenched his blade as the seer leaned in and kissed Lena on the cheek, who was trembling profusely.

Without a word, Lena ripped herself away from the seer and stumbled out of the tent. Azriel was up and beside her in a heartbeat, an arm around her trembling waist as he led her quickly away from the vendors and towards the shore. She was breathing heavily as they finally got away from the sounds of the festival, but her power was beginning to flare and they were in a dangerous spot for that to be happening.

If Aeron or Narayan felt her power… he couldn’t quite think about that.

He was silent as he sat her down at the beach’s edge, tucking her hair behind her ear once more as he knelt before her.

“Lena,” he said softly as her power continued to pulse through her. It made his own siphons flare and only then did he realize that her dress matched the stones perfectly. “Lena, look at me.”

She did, but the panic still lingered. He put his palm on her cheek, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to hers. She shook her head, starting to say that she didn’t want to hurt him, but he only murmured, “I’m here.”

Lena’s breath caught in her throat for a split second before she released it slowly. The power that had been stretching out from her pulled back in. Her breathing slowed, matching Azriel’s deep, intentional breaths. The air between them mingled and her eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m here,” Azriel repeated, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She laid her own hand over top of his.

A few more seconds passed before Azriel finally pulled away, worried that festival goers might come wandering by. He sat next to Lena, their hips an inch apart as she stared out over the ocean.

“When she touched me,” she spoke a moment later, “I felt… cold. Like there was ice in my veins, but it was dark. Not my darkness. Different.”

“She’s a con,” Azriel muttered. “Says things just to make a coin—”

“No.” Lena shook her head. “I felt it.” She turned to meet his eyes. “Something’s going to happen, Az. I don’t know what or when, but… something bad.”

Azriel could only stare. Her normally bright eyes dimmed and he knew he would do anything in the world in that moment to make sure she never looked like that again.

Pushing away his shame and guilt and fear and shadows, Azriel reached out and took Lena’s hand in his own. She started, looking down at their interlaced fingers — a connection he never initiated.

“When it comes,” he said softly, “I will still be here. I will always be here.”

Lena could only inhale shakily as she scooted closer and rested her head against his shoulder. They stared out at the ocean and both hoped and prayed that his words were true.

~~~~~

Upon returning to the Night Court and giving the briefest of overviews of the trip to Rhys and Cassian — minus the visit to the seer — Azriel whispered in Lena’s ear to meet him on the roof of the House of Wind in an hour. She gave him a curious look, but nodded all the same.

An hour passed and Azriel was already waiting as she appeared, the night sky a stunning backdrop to the sight of her wings outstretched as she flew to meet him. She landed gracefully, a smile on her tired face as she looked up at him.

“Well? What are we doing up here?”

Azriel only grinned, surprising even himself. But that seer had spooked him too — more than she knew. And if he had been that disturbed, he knew she was more so. And he would be damned if he let her birthday be ruined.

“Well it is officially,” he paused, looking up at the moon’s place in the sky. A few seconds passed and Lena giggled at his raised finger, indicating her to wait. “Officially your birthday,” he finally said, looking back down at her. She was staring at him with something he didn’t want to name. “And I have a gift for you.”

“Oh do you?” Lena asked playfully. “And what might that be?”

Azriel inhaled deeply, pulling out what he had been hiding behind his back.

Lena laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as he produced two of the flower crowns from the festival.

“You got me two?” She asked excitedly, reaching for them. “Az, you didn’t have to—”

“Not so fast,” he said pulling them out of her reach. “Pick one.”

“What?”

“Come on, pick one.” He held them out, one purple and one white. Lena huffed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly as she pointed at the white one. Azriel grinned, leaning forward and placing the crown gently on her head. “Perfect,” he said softly.

“And the other one?”

“Well this one,” he said, rolling his shoulders and swallowing his pride, “Is for me.”

Lena barked a laugh, throwing her head back as Azriel coolly placed the crown atop his head. He couldn’t help but smile widely at the sound of her laugh, the sound that haunted his best dreams.

“I thought you had a reputation,” Lena said through her laughter.

“Yeah well,” Azriel shrugged. “You’ve always seen past it anyways.”

Lena smiled, shaking her head as though she wasn’t sure any of this was real. He felt the same. With another chuckle, she looked up at his crown with a huff.

“It’s crooked,” she murmured, reaching up to adjust it. Azriel leaned down as she fixed it, his eyes trained on the curve of her mouth and the dimple in her cheek from where she was still smiling.

Because of him. How could the Cauldron have damned him and blessed him so perfectly?

“There you go,” she said softly, settling back down from where she had been standing on her tiptoes. “So… what now?”

“Now,” Azriel said with a soft smile and wild shadows. “Now we’re going to fly.”

“Fly?” Lena asked, her brows drawn together.

“Fly,” Azriel repeated. “That seer gave you a bunch of bullshit, but she was right about one thing. We should kiss the sky while we can.”

With that, Azriel leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek chastely, throwing caution to the wind for this one night even though he knew he would regret it all in the morning. When he pulled back, Lena was staring at him like she had never seen him before, and he wasn’t sure if she was breathing.

Afraid he himself would chicken out if he asked what was wrong, Azriel extended his wings and shot up into the sky.

“Are you coming?” He called down.

It took Lena a moment to shake out of whatever stupor she was in, but seconds later she had extended her own wings and was chasing him into the night.

They flew until the moon fell and the sun rose. Shadows and darkness, one and the same.

[azrielsiphons]

Prequel: Azriel-Centric Stories Set Before ACOTAR (ch. 4)

This is a collection of interconnected short stories about Azriel’s life before any of the events of ACOTAR through ACOWAR. 

Make sure to read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4.5, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Read the follow up fic, Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same

CHAPTER 4: LENA 

Time frame: 2 years before Rhys becomes High Lord

Summary: Rhys’s father sends Azriel to a village on the outskirts of the Night Court to investigate why three children have gone missing. Azriel normally does these kinds of missions alone, but this time he has some help. 

(Note: This is a VERY important chapter concerning the overarching narrative... very... important... chapter... Enjoy!) (Also, this is SO LONG. ALMOST 10K WORDS. PREPARE YOURSELF.)

“Leftover war-profiteers, perhaps?”

Rhys’s father, High Lord Aeron, shook his head. He stood at his desk, looking down at various letters and documents and maps, trying to connect the dots. Azriel stood tall, his scarred hands folding in front of him. He did his best to control his shadows; the High Lord was always disturbed by them.

“No I don’t think so,” Aeron said lowly. He didn’t bother looking up at Azriel. “I don’t see what any war fanatics could possibly benefit from kidnapping some lesser fae children out on the fringes of our Court.”

Azriel took a deep breath. If - no, when he found whoever had kidnapped three Night Court children on the other side of their territory, he would make sure they had a slow, painful death. He shook his head when images from the War flitted through his memory. Now wasn’t the time.

“It could be an angry parent,” Aeron mused, rubbing his hand over his facial hair. His dark hair, almost blue and exactly like Rhys’s, was perfectly styled. Azriel had to remind himself that while Rhys was Illyrian, he only got that from Wren, his mother. “I’ve seen fae lose their minds when they are unable to conceive. And with three children in a village as small as this one, the likelihood of jealous adults increases exponentially.”

Azriel had to agree.

“Any specific parameters, sir?”

Aeron sighed, looking up at Azriel with a slight grimace on his face. Azriel didn’t let his expression move a single inch.

“You’ll go tonight.” Of course he will. “I don’t care how, find out where those children are. If they’re alive, return the children to their parents and bring the culprit back here for trial. If not…” Aeron met Azriel’s eyes, something he rarely did. “I’ll leave you to your own devices with whoever is responsible.”

Azriel nodded.

Without another word, Aeron clearly dismissed his Spymaster. Azriel turned on his heel and left the High Lord’s office, willing his shadows to remain calm.

He knew she would be waiting on him, he just didn’t know where. She always met with him after he spoke to Aeron, to her father. She knew how he could be.

Azriel sighed as he rounded the corner to the hall where his room was in the House of Wind. He hoped the sigh came across as more annoyed than wistful.

She snapped her gaze over to his, violet eyes twin to Rhys’s meeting his hazel ones. Her jet black hair was piled haphazardly atop her head, her white tunic only halfway tucked into her pants. As always, she looked like she was far too busy to concern herself with her outward appearance.

Not that it mattered. The genes in her family assured that she was stunning all the same.

An amused smile tugged at her full lips.

Careful how you look at her, Azriel’s shadows whispered in his ear.

Azriel took a deep breath and shook his head as he exhaled, walking forward silently to enter his chambers. His hand reached for the handle only to be met with resistance.

Azriel sighed, dropping his head.

“What, you’re too good to say hello to me?”

Her voice was light, trying and failing to hide her laughter.

“Hello, Lena,” Azriel deadpanned. “May I enter my room, please?”

Lena hummed to herself, crossing her ankles where she was leaned back against the wall beside the door. Azriel willed himself to ignore the heat coming off of her body standing so close to his.

“Not just yet,” she mused, turning her head and trying to make Azriel look at her. “How was the meeting?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Sure you can,” Lena said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He hated how similar she was to Rhys sometimes. And yet they were also so very different. “I’m the ‘Daughter of the Night Court,’ remember?” The roll of her eyes had Azriel chuckling despite himself. “So I should be privy to secret Night Court information, don’t you think?”

“Lena, let me into my room please.”

“Well since you said please.”

The shield over Azriel’s bedroom door handle disappeared and he mumbled a thank you before walking in. He knew Lena would follow him in but he didn’t think she would push right past him and flop onto his bed.

“Lena,” Azriel hissed, glancing behind him before shutting the door. “You can’t just go around doing… that.”

“Relax,” she sing-songed, sitting up on her elbows. “I promise I’m not trying to scandalize you.”

“Well that’s new,” he muttered, opening a drawer and pulling out a set of freshly cleaned knives and an old set of leathers. This village was on the poorer side, and his old Illyrian leathers with a coat would help him blend in.

“Are you leaving tonight?” Lena asked abruptly, her tone suddenly serious as she noticed Azriel’s hurry.

“Once the sun goes down.”

“But you haven’t even been back a full day,” she spluttered, hopping off of the bed and striding to stand beside Azriel as he thumbed through his knives. He still hadn’t properly looked at her. “This isn’t healthy, Azriel. You have to rest at some point.”

“I rest plenty.”

“Hey.” Lena finally snapped, reaching out and grabbing Azriel by the wrist. He froze, but didn’t flinch. “We don’t lie to each other, remember?”

Azriel sighed, dropping his head before finally turning to meet her gaze.

Damn her for looking at him like that. Like he was the only person in the world when she was talking to him.

And she was right. Ever since she was a child, it had been their vow to one another to never lie to one another.

Azriel had been charged with protecting both Wren and Lena when Rhys’s father had brought him in as official Spymaster ten years ago, when Lena had only been nine years old. He knew her obviously, considering Wren had helped raise he and Cassian alongside Rhys. But then being charged with their protection after Wren had done so much to protect him… it had been jarring.

He remembered small, nine-year old Lena creeping around a corner to watch Azriel as he trained alone at the House of Wind one day…

“I know you’re there,” Azriel said with a small smile on his face. He heard Lena gasp and start to run away. “You can come in, it’s okay.”

Small pitter-pattering had her slinking back into the room, a bashful smile on her face.

“Mama says you’re a spy for the Court now,” she said matter-of-factly. Azriel nodded, trying not to laugh as Lena swayed on her little feet with her hands tucked behind her back, short black hair falling in front of her eyes even though it was pulled back in a braid. “Spies have to lie a lot, don’t they?”

His smile gave way to a frown and he walked up to her, crouching down so they were eye level. She was small for a nine year old.

“Why do you ask that, Lena?”

“Because we’re friends,” she whispered as if she were afraid someone would overhear. “And I don’t want you to have to lie to me.”

Azriel grinned widely, something he never thought he would have the privilege of doing. Lena was perceptive. She was going to give he and his brothers a run for their money one day.

“How about this,” he offered. “I promise not to lie to you. Ever. And you promise me the same. Me and you? We don’t lie to each other.”

Lena looked down at her feet for a minute before glancing back up at Azriel, trying and failing to hold back a smile.

“Really?” She asked. Azriel chuckled.

“Really.”

“Okay,” she said brightly. “We don’t lie to each other. Ever, ever, ever.”

And they had both held true to that promise. Azriel had never lied to Lena, and she had never lied to him.

The only difference was that now she was nineteen years old, turning twenty in only two days, wittier than Rhys though he would never tell his brother that, powerful beyond measure, and utterly gorgeous.

Stop it, Azriel thought to himself. She’s Rhys’s sister and your High Lord’s daughter. Focus.

“You’re right,” he finally spoke softly. Lena had waited patiently for him to come to himself. His eyes trained on her fingers lightly touching his scarred wrist. “We don’t lie to each other.”

“When was the last time you rested properly?”

Azriel chuckled, carefully pulling his arm away from her. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings when he knew she didn’t mean anything but compassion, but she shouldn’t be touching him that way. He knew better than most that anyone could be watching, anyone could be listening.

“A couple weeks,” Azriel said with a shrug. “A couple months perhaps.”

Lena hissed. “Damn him. Damn him for working you this hard.”

“Lena, it’s my—”

“I don’t give a shit if it’s your job,” she snapped, her magic flaring. Azriel watched her carefully. Her emotions still got the better of her powers sometimes. “You’re not indestructible, Az. He shouldn’t be putting you through all of this. He can send someone else. Rhys, Cassian, any other Illyrian, me—”

“There we go,” Azriel said with a chuckle. Lena fixed him with a glare. “Come on Lena, we both know why you’re really here.”

Another flare of magic. Maybe he shouldn’t tease her so much right now.

“Fine, you’re right,” she snapped. “I want to go with you. And I would be helpful and you know it. You’re exhausted, Azriel. Even your enhanced senses get dull when you don’t rest. I on the other hand,” she gestured to herself with a mocking smile, “Am wonderfully rested considering I never get to do anything useful.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh you’re right,” Lena said bitterly. “I am just oh so useful around here training by myself, reading all the time, playing the damn piano, walking the Rainbow mindlessly—”

“All of those things are important.”

“Important sure, but not useful!” Lena shouted. Darkness skirted across her skin. “I just want to be useful, Az. To be considered worthy enough to do something to actually help my people.”

“It’s not a question of your worth, Lena.”

“Isn’t it though?” Lena’s eyes swirled darker, her power oozing out into the room. A few more seconds and it would be felt by anyone else in the House of Wind - her father included, which would not be good. “My father doesn’t see anything in me worth more than being holed up here doing nothing of significance and—”

“Lena.”

Azriel lurched forwards and gently grasped Lena by her shoulders. Her eyes were dark and the light from the room was slowly draining out. She stared up at him unseeingly.

“Lena look at me,” he whispered harshly, feeling sure that some of the silent House of Wind staff would come eavesdropping soon if they weren’t already. He put one of his hands against her cheek, hating the way his scars seemed to mar her perfect skin. “Lena breathe. Look at my eyes and just breathe.”

A tense second passed. But then the darkness began to ebb, the stunning violet in her eyes finally coming back to the surface. The pressure of the room decreased, the tension dissolved.

And then there she was. Lena. His Lena.

She’s not yours, remember? The shadows whispered.

She loosed a breath, her head falling forward to rest on Azriel’s shoulder. Her body trembled slightly.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, holding onto her with one hand at the nape of her neck and the other on her arm. “You’re alright. You did good.”

“I hate this,” she whispered. “I hate that it controls me. If I weren’t cooped up here all the damn time, I could learn to control it.”

“They don’t want you to hurt anyone.”

“It’s hurting me,” Lena snapped, lifting her head to look into his eyes. Azriel willed himself not to react to her closeness. “I have to get out of this city, Az. I’ve only ever known this city. You and Rhys and Cassian and my mother have trained me well, but I have to do something with it otherwise my magic is going to kill me.”

“Nothing and no one is going to kill you, do you understand me?” The words were out of Azriel’s mouth before he could think them through. He held onto her tightly, loving and loathing the contact. “You are going to be fine. If Rhys can control his powers, so can you.”

“Rhys isn’t cooped up in this city all day though. He’s gotten to fight, to do.”

“Fighting isn’t something to aspire for, Lena.”

“It is when people threaten my home and my family,” she shot back instantly. “When someone is kidnapping children in my Court.”

He hated to admit it, but she had a point.

“Take me with you, Azriel,” she continued. He shook his head, trying to pull away, but she held on tight. “You’re not even leaving the Night Court borders, you’ll be there for maybe one day. Please.” Her eyes pierced his soul, he couldn’t look away. “Please, Azriel.”

A beat.

“Your father would kill me.”

“He won’t know.”

“How do you propose to sneak out?”

“My father is leaving tonight for the Court of Nightmares,” she said quickly. “He won’t have a clue.��

“And your mother?”

Her sly smile had his heart racing.

“Who do you think is covering for me right now?”

~~~~~

One glance from Wren as he took off with Lena at his side told Azriel that if he let her daughter get hurt, she would be the one to kill him. His respectful nod back told her he would gladly offer her his head should that happen.

Lena’s wings were a thing of majesty as she flew alongside him, which was fitting considering who she was.

Daughter of the Night Court, his shadows whispered as the pair flew across the night sky. And you the mere bastard in the shadows.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Lena called out across the sky. Azriel snapped back into focus, looking to his left to meet her bright, joyful eyes. She loved flying more than he expected she loved anything. “You have that line between your eyes.”

“What line between my eyes?” He asked incredulously.

Lena laughed, banking low and to the right, sweeping underneath Azriel until she was flanking him on the right. He rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same.

“You get this line between your eyes when you’re thinking really hard,” she explained, flashing her teeth. “You had it a second ago. What were you thinking so hard about?”

“About how ridiculous it is that I’m dragging you along with me,” he answered honestly.

We don’t lie to each other.

Lena scoffed. “I’d hardly say you’re dragging me. I think it’s something more along the lines of me grabbing onto your ankles and not letting go.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh. Lena’s answering smile was brighter than the sun.

They reached the small village about half an hour later. The rest of the flight had been full of Lena flying like a maniac, though it certainly made the journey more exciting than any of his other missions.

She landed before he did, despite his asking her not to. That was the wrong move of course, considering the look of incredulity she shot him when he said “Let me land first.” She winnowed to the ground a second later.

“Lena,” Azriel said exasperatedly, winnowing himself next to her in a burst of blue. “I know you don’t like to make it a habit of listening to me—”

“Not true.”

“But while we’re here, you have to listen to me.” His tone left no room for argument, which was typically Lena’s strongsuit. “I’m going to keep you safe, but you have to work with me. I can’t do my part finding these kids if I’m too worried about you the entire time.”

It was harsher than he had ever spoken to her, and he knew if anyone else had spoken that way to her he would have throttled them. He was just opening his mouth to apologize when she spoke.

“Okay,” she said coolly.

“What?”

“You’re right,” she conceded with a nod. “I was being prideful. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” Azriel narrowed his eyes. “I promise!”

“Good,” he finally said.

Giving Lena a once over, he took a moment to be shocked once again at how calm she seemed. She was clad in her same clothes as before: old, simple Illyrian leathers with a plain thick white tunic. Her hair was in a reasonable lower hold, but stray hair framed her face from the flight.

Her power was dimmed, her violet eyes bright, and her cheeks flushed with the rush of the flight and likely excitement as well.

She’s beautiful.

No, don’t think that.

“So what now, fearless leader?”

Azriel blinked. “The village is about half a mile west of here. We’ll walk in.”

He expected questions, but Lena only nodded and waited for him to lead the way. With one last glance over at her, Azriel took a breath and started walking.

They walked in silence, but comfortably so. When they were halfway there Lena reached into a pocket realm and pulled out a brown cloak. Azriel did the same, only his was black and had a hood.

“Where did you get that?” Azriel finally broke the silence as they approached the tree line where the village lay beyond.

Lena shrugged, pushing her arms through the sleeves of the older ratty cloak. It clearly wasn’t anything bought in Velaris.

“It was my mother’s,” she said simply. “Before my father found her.”

He didn’t pry any further. Azriel knew that Lena loathed her father, she had ever since the War when he’d brought Rhys back from Amarantha’s camp after he had been taken and tortured, forcing Azriel, Cassian, Wren and Lena to leave the ash bolts through her brother’s wings.

Lena had almost killed Aeron that night.

Azriel had almost let her.

Focus.

“Cute,” Lena said honestly as they finally came into view of the village. It was small, which they expected, but still nice. “Where to first?”

“The local tavern or bar is typically where people have the loosest tongues. We’ll go there first to see if anyone feels inclined to share some information on the missing children.”

With that, the pair set off towards the tavern. Their heavy boots crunched in the snow, and Azriel ignored the inquisitive stares from the village passerby, which was few, but still present.

Lena on the other hand always offered a bright smile. Azriel fixed her with a glare as if to say ‘tone it down,’ and she huffed, but held her hands up in surrender.

They entered the tavern only to be met with almost complete silence. The door swung shut behind Lena with a loud noise and she jumped, met with Azriel’s stern glare.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Azriel inhaled deeply. “Just go sit down. I’ll talk to the bartender.” His voice was so low only Lena could hear it. She started to protest but then thought better of it, sitting down at the nearest table.

There were only two other people in the tavern, the bartender and a lone customer sitting in the corner with his or her head down and an empty glass in front of them.

With the smallest of huffs and a bitter smile in his direction, Lena took a seat at the table closest to the door, her body halfway facing the exit.

She’s good at this, the shadows whispered. But you knew she would be, didn’t you?

“Can I help you?” The bartender asked gruffly as Azriel approached. He was roughly as tall as Azriel, with a clean shaven face and head. His features were sharp, and a long scar cut across his face.

From the War. But which side did he fight on?

“One ale and one water,” Azriel replied lowly. His cloak masked the shadows extending from him.

The bartender glanced over at Lena and Azriel couldn’t help but tense.

“The ale for her or for you?”

Azriel didn’t have to look at Lena to know that she was smirking.

“Me. She’s not one for alcohol.” A scoff.

“Is that so?”

“We’re just traveling through,” Azriel continued, refusing to look back at Lena even though he knew she was boring holes into his back with her gaze. “It’s quite slow in here today.”

The bartender slammed a glass down on the bar with more force than necessary as he met Azriel’s shaded eyes. He filled the glass with ale slowly.

“Been slow for a while now,” he finally said gruffly, bringing out a new glass for the water.

“Why is that?”

He gave a lazy, mocking smile. “Not exactly business for two people just traveling through, is it?”

Shit.

Azriel said nothing else, only gave a brief nod of thanks as he grabbed the glasses and strode for their table.

“We won’t get anything here.” Azriel spoke so low that only Lena could hear him. She had her forearms propped comfortably on the edge of the table, her eyes tracking Azriel’s movements carefully.

Always watching you, the shadows whispered. And you her.

“So what next?” She asked.

“We wait. Listen, see how people speak amongst themselves.”

“Eavesdropping,” Lena deadpanned. “Those kids are missing, may not have all that much time, and you just want to wait around and eavesdrop?”

Azriel narrowed his gaze, his icy temper flaring. “What would you propose, Lena?” He snapped. “These people are scared and mistrusting. Asking them upfront is only going to push them away and put us in more danger, and I’m also in charge of keeping you safe in case you’ve forgotten.” Lena opened her mouth to protest but he charged on. “I want to find these children alive and well just as much as you, but I also know how to do my job and do it well. And that requires patience.” A beat. “Unless you have a better idea from all of your experience at this kind of thing, princess?”

Lena’s eyes flashed dark at the jab and Azriel immediately regretted it.  

“I didn’t mean—”

“Let me try something.”

Azriel froze, his heart racing as Lena stood up quickly, her chair making a loud noise on the wooden floor. He reached out to grab her wrist only for her to evade the movement.

“Sit down,” he said roughly, knowing the bartender was watching them.

Lena ignored him, shucking off her cloak and tossing it over the back of her chair. Her wings were missing - glamoured. She placed her palms flat agains the table and leaned in closely to Azriel until their faces were only inches apart. He forced himself to stay still.

“Will you just trust me?” She asked softly, but firmly. Her eyes captivated him and he hated it. “I’ve got an idea and I need you to tell me that you trust me before I do it. So please.” She leaned in even closer and Azriel knew if anyone saw this and it got back to her father or Cauldron forbid Rhys or Cassian, his head would be on a pike. “Tell me you trust me.”

He took in a deep breath, her scent filling him. He pushed away the feelings it stirred, feelings he didn’t need to be having. This was Lena.

“I trust you.”

Her answering smile was so bright it almost knocked him over.

“Perfect,” she said brightly, her voice raised. “I’ll be right back then.”

Azriel prided himself on not being easily caught off guard. But when Lena leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth before skipping off to the bar, he was completely and utterly surprised.

And he was also pretty sure his heart stopped beating for a split second.

It took roughly two seconds for him to secure his wits about him and look over his shoulder at where Lena was now hopping up on a stool at the bar. She was unfazed.

Of course she is.

He turned back around, turning his gaze down to the table as he listened in.

“Hi!” Lena said cheerfully as the bartender came over to her. “I was wondering, I know it’s late, but do you have any of your dinner items still prepared? My husband and I haven’t eaten yet and while he’s content filling up on ale, I am not.”

Ah, that explains the kiss, Azriel thought to himself.

Of course it does, the shadows said in response, making him cringe. What else could it have been?

“Husband, eh?” The bartender asked, and Azriel could feel his gaze. “He didn’t seem as… perky as you.”

“Yes well he enjoys brooding, it’s one of his favorite pastimes.” Azriel bit his lip to keep from chuckling. “Oh don’t worry, he can’t hear us. He hurt his ears when he was young, fell into a cold lake.”

“Healers didn’t get to him in time?”

“Well, there aren’t many healers in the camps.”

Azriel felt the bartender take pause and he calculated how long it would take to fling a knife at the bartender’s throat.

“Illyrian, then,” the male said. “You too? Should’ve guessed. The dark skin, his wings, the eyes.”

She must have glamoured her eyes to be hazel like most Illyrians, too. Azriel wanted to laugh. She really was good at this.

And you were doubting her.

“The brooding too, right?” Lena joked, making the bartender laugh alongside her. A twinge of a strange emotion he was too prideful to name shot through Azriel. “Sorry if he came across intrusive earlier. We’re traveling to the other side of the Court and he gets worried coming into new places ever since the War.”

The bartender sat something on the bar with a small clang, much more polite than when Azriel had been up there minutes earlier. Lena’s charm knew no bounds.

“It’s reasonable to be worried these days,” the bartender murmured. “You have a good male looking out for you.”

“He’s a good one, that’s for sure.”

Azriel could hear the smile in Lena’s voice and caught a foolish part of him wondering if she was still acting or not.

“You said you’re traveling east then?” The bartender asked. A utensil scraped against a plate, Lena was eating something. She mumbled a yes around a mouthful of food and the bartender chuckled. Another pang of that Cauldron forsaken emotion made Azriel’s blood start to boil. “What’s east?”

“My sister and her mate are having a baby,” Lena said with a smile. “We know traveling isn’t exactly the safest right now, but they’ve been trying to conceive for almost a decade and there’s no way I’m missing the birth of my niece or nephew.”

She took another bite of her food and a silence fell back over the bar.

She’s letting him sort through his thoughts, Azriel realized. Letting him be the one to bring up the missing children, charming him into revealing the information all on his own. She’s too damn good at this.

“You two have any children?” The bartender finally asked, a sad yet sincere tone coating his voice.

“Us? Oh no. We’ve only been married for a year. We met right after the War so we’re both taking care of ourselves first before bringing any children into the picture.”

“That’s smart,” he replied. “Bad time for children. Especially in these parts.”

A pause. “What do you mean?”

Azriel listened more intently as the bartender leaned in closer to Lena.

“Children have been going missing around here,” he whispered.

“What?” Lena asked incredulously.

Oh she is good.

“Three children live in this village and they’ve all gone missing in the past five days.”

“That’s… that’s awful. Have you reached out for help? Surely the High Lord—”

“He doesn’t give a shit about us,” the bartender snapped. “He just stays up in his palace worrying over the city. We’re the ones that need help the most though.”

“He’s a piece of shit, that’s for sure.” She certainly wasn’t acting with that comment. “Well there have been search parties or… or something, right?”

“Every day,” the bartender replied firmly. “Every able bodied male and female in the village have been searching, we all look out for one another here.”

Doesn’t sound like a jealous hopeful parent then, Azriel thought to himself. He knew Lena was noting the same thing.

“And no luck at all?” Lena asked, horrified. “By the Cauldron…”

“On the fourth night a few females said they heard children about half a mile south into the tree line, but we searched that area from top to bottom. That was the only lead we had and it amounted to nothing.”

Lena talked to the bartender for a few more minutes, but there was no other relevant information to be given. She got his name, charmed him even further and got a drink on the house before finally heading back to their table.

Her familiar, slender, scar-free hand trailed over his shoulders before sitting down next to him, scooting her chair closer to his until their knees were touching.

Azriel jerked his leg away on instinct only for Lena to rest her hand on his knee and give him one of her signature looks.

“Now husband,” she said patronizingly, fluttering her lashes at him. Azriel’s broad shoulders lifted as he inhaled deeply, steadying his breathing. “We’ve been married a year, you would think we’d be falling deeper in love every day.”

“You couldn’t say we were brother and sister?” He hissed. Scenario upon horrible scenario flitted through his mind of what would happen if Aeron found out about this.

“Well he certainly wouldn’t have asked if we had any children together if we were brother and sister now would he?” Azriel glared, met with a grin. “There’s that line between your eyes again.”

“That was reckless.”

“That was brilliant, and you know it. You’re just jealous because my plan was better than yours.”

“If we didn’t lie to each other, I’d say that I hate you.”

“Such a loving husband.”

Azriel finally broke, the blue of his siphons flaring slightly beneath his cloak as he laughed. Lena laughed alongside him too, leaning back in her chair and taking a drink of his ale. He tried to ignore the cold loss of her hand from his knee.

“So since you’re the one with the great ideas,” Azriel said, surprising himself with the smile in his voice. Not that he should be surprised, it was Lena after all. “What next?”

“We finish our drinks, then we head half a mile south into the tree line. See what we pick up. Make up the plan as we go.”

She set the glass down, looking down at the table as she licked the ale from her lips.

Damn her for being beautiful, Azriel thought to himself. Damn her for those eyes, for looking at him like he was worth something, for always fighting for him. Damn her for being wiser and more intelligent than he would ever be, for being able to charm anyone in ways he would never be able to, for—

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“You were looking at me like—”

“Sorry,” Azriel cut her off, afraid what she would say next. “We should go, come on.”

He stood up abruptly, pretending to miss the look of hurt on her face.

After Lena said goodbye to the bartender and shrugged her cloak back on, Azriel led her back out into the biting cold. The door slammed shut behind them as Azriel checked their surroundings once, twice, then led them towards the tree line.

They were silent save for the crunching of their boots in the snow. Lena finally spoke about five minutes later.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Azriel flinched at how small her voice was. “No,” he said gruffly. “You did nothing wrong, I’m just… I’m not used to doing this alongside someone else.”

“If I went too far in there, with the husband and wife thing, I’m sorry—”

“No, Lena,” Azriel willed himself to turn around and face her, bringing them both to a halting stop.

The wind wasn’t as bad within the trees, but her black hair still whipped around her face. With her glamour now gone, the violet in her eyes was piercing. Piercing and stunning, looking at him as if they saw the worst parts of his soul and yet… kept looking.

“You did nothing wrong,” he repeated quickly, willing himself to focus. “You were… wonderful in there. Your plan was better and I’m not just saying that. I just… I can’t help but worry.”

“About me?”

“Yes, about you!” Azriel said incredulously. “You even have to ask? You’re charming and wonderful and so damn kind and…” He searched for the right words, something he never had to do around anyone but her. He loosed a breath, his posture relaxing as she looked at him expectantly. “The world is never going to be as kind as you are. And for all you knew, neither was that bartender in there.”

“You can’t protect me from every bad thing in the world, Azriel.” Lena’s tone was firm. “You of all people should know that I won’t be holed up in Velaris for the rest of my life, I just won’t. I’ve been kept from everything, from the Illyrian camps, from the War, from other Courts, from your missions—”

“This is my burden to bear Lena, not yours.”

“And you shouldn’t have to bear it alone!” She shouted, her darkness flaring, but still under control. “We’re a team, Azriel, and you know it. We have always worked well together, you’ve looked out for me so well and I am eternally grateful, but… dammit Azriel, let me look out for you for once.”

“I have done horrible things,” Azriel snapped. A tension settled between them despite their physical closeness. “And I will do countless more because that is what I was made to do. It is not what you were made for though.”

“And what was I made for, Az? For running about Velaris and saying hi to the same people every day just to make my father look good? For patching your wounds up because you’re too stubborn to go to a healer when you wouldn’t get hurt in the first place if I had been there with you?”

“You are made—” Azriel said, lurching forward and placing his hands on Lena’s face— “For so much more. So much more, and I hate your father for not seeing that and keeping your holed up in Velaris, believe me. But the life that I live isn’t more, Lena. It’s horrible and dangerous and stained with red.”

“Well what if I—”

They froze at the same time, Azriel’s hands dropping and reaching for his blades. Lena did the same, whipping out two blades in the blink of an eye.

The scent was fae, but… off. The pair branched off, Azriel going to the left and Lena to the right. About one minute later the stranger was close enough that they heard their footsteps crunching in the snow. Whoever it was certainly wasn’t trying to hide.

When they came slightly into view, walking slow and hunched over, Lena whipped her head over to Azriel. She winnowed next to him a heartbeat later, their shoulders touching.

“It’s the woman from the tavern,” she whispered hurriedly. “I saw her when I went up to the bar. She must’ve followed us out here.”

“You’re sure?” Azriel hadn’t seen the one other patron’s face.

“Positive.”

Azriel paused, his shadows curling over his ears. You know you can trust her, they whispered.

“Make the call,” he said bluntly. Her eyes widened, but that was the only evidence of shock that she gave away.

“We step out. She followed us for a reason, if she wanted to attack she would have done so by now. She heard me speak the most in the tavern, I’ll approach her.”

Azriel nodded his agreement, and Lena opened her mouth as if to say something else. Perhaps it was a thank you. Perhaps it was something else. Whatever it was, she closed her mouth a second later and stepped around the tree they were behind into open view.

Azriel was fighting every instinct inside him as he let Lena walk ahead of him about ten steps. The female from the tavern was only twenty or so feet in front of her now.

“Hello,” Lena called out kindly. “You were in the tavern, I saw you. Why did you follow us out here?”

“You’re looking for the children.”

Lena and Azriel both cringed at the woman’s voice — grating and harsh. The hood on her cloak hid her face, but it was clear with how she hunched over that she was older even by fae standards or perhaps injured.

“Yes,” Lena replied, her voice wavering. Azriel knew her well enough to know that she hated the slip. “We wanted to see if we could help.” A pause. “Can you help us? Do you have an idea of where they are?”

The woman said nothing, only extended a crooked, gloved hand and gestured for the pair to follow her. She turned and began to head slightly west of the direction they had originally been going.

Lena glanced back at Azriel, the slightest hint of fear on her features that anyone else may not have noticed. He gave her a look as if to say, ‘your call.’

They followed the woman, hands hovering over their knives as they stayed a safe distance behind her. Azriel noted in the back of his mind that Lena still stayed one step ahead of him.

Self-sacrificing, just like you, the shadows whispered. What a dangerous pair you two make.

After walking about a quarter mile in silence, Azriel was just about to tell Lena they shouldn’t entertain this any further when the woman slowed down significantly. Lena came to a sudden stop a few seconds later.

“Do you hear that?”

Azriel nodded. Somewhere close, there was whimpering. Children whimpering.

“Stop,” Lena said to the woman. “Hey, stop!”

The woman complied, her small, hunched over frame still turned with her back to them.

“What have you done with the children?” Azriel’s voice promised pain and death.

“So pure, children.” The woman’s voice made Azriel and Lena cringe once again. Cracking noises emerged from beneath her cloak as the fabric shifted on top of her. “So innocent.”

“Lena,” Azriel snapped seeing the look on her face. She was trying to use her daemati magic, but she was still so untrained. If she wasn’t careful she could get trapped in there. “Don’t.”

“I’d warn against trying to get into my mind dear,” the woman hissed. “You might not like what you find.”

“Where are the children?” Lena shouted, pulling out her knives. The woman’s body continued to crack and move, growing taller. “Tell us where they are!”

“Safe from all of you!”

The woman - no, the creature - turned and spat, its body convulsing and spasming as the skin tore and shredded, giving way to something much worse beneath.

“Mother’s tits,” Lena whispered. She’d been spending too much time with Cassian.

Azriel was through waiting for answers. He’d find the children on his own. Quick and deadly as the night could be, he winnowed behind the creature and swung his Illyrian blade as if it were an extension of his own body.

His aim was true, but the creature’s skin was thicker than it looked. Even the Illyrian steel couldn’t pierce all the way through. When it became embedded in the creature’s back, Azriel winnowed back in front of Lena as it turned and swiped with its newly emerged claws.

“Go,” Azriel huffed, his knives in his hands. “Now—go to the village. Get everyone out. Lena!”

But Lena wasn’t listening. A heartbeat later she was on the creature’s left side in a crouch, dangerously close to it.

“Lena!”

But silent as the night, Lena slid beneath the creature and slammed each of her knives into its feet. She had winnowed to its right before it finished screaming in pain, the knives left behind.

With expert precision, she threw two more knives directly for its eyes. The creature batted them away though, moving faster as its transformation came to fruition.

Azriel grit his teeth, sprinting at the creature. Wings snapping wide, he partially jumped and partially flew until he was on its back. There was an awful roar as he dug Truth Teller into its neck.

“Azriel, no!”

Instead of leaving Truth Teller behind, he tried to yank it out of the creature’s tough skin, only to be thrown backwards. He landed hard in the snow, the creature whirling and swiping down at him with horrible clawed hands.

Only to be met with a shield of glittering night.

Azriel loosed a breath as the shield in front of him became a dome surrounding the creature. It roared awfully, pounding its claws against the darkness.

“Help me!” Lena shouted, her extended arms trembling. Azriel blinked, snapping back to attention as he created a blue shield of his own on the exterior of hers. He grunted, feeling every hit from the creature. His resolve wavered for a split second when he realized Lena was feeling it even worse than he was.

“What are you doing?” Azriel shouted when Lena lowered one hand, her still raised one shaking with effort.

His question was answered though when a spear made of pure darkness appeared in her hand. Violet eyes met hazel ones.

“Let go.”

Azriel did no such thing. Lena’s shield around the creature gave way and it roared once more, thrashing against Azriel’s blue shield. He grunted with the effort, falling to a knee.

“Azriel let go!” Lena screamed, another spear appearing in her other hand.

He shook his head. “No! Just go!”

“Azriel.”

And then she was there, right in front of him. The spears of night still rest in her hands as she crouched to meet his eyes.

“Trust me.”

Barely a whisper. A plea. A desire.

Azriel let go of his shield.

And a heartbeat later she was up, spinning and thrusting the spears hard and true. Azriel was up and in a defensive stance in front of her before the creature even hit the ground.

“I told you to trust me,” Lena said as Azriel turned to face her. A small frown etched her features and Azriel, tired as he was, couldn’t help but laugh.

“Clearly, I did.”

“You jumped in front of me! You didn’t think I could do it.”

“I was taking precautions.”

“‘I was taking precautions,’” Lena mocked, attempting to take on Azriel’s low tone. She huffed as he rolled his eyes, stepping around him and up to the creature, yanking the spears out of its eyes one by one. “Those shots were perfect, it was going down right away and you knew it.”

“You remembered what I said about the eyes being the weakest point on even—”

“On even the toughest creature,” Lena finished, looking over her shoulder and shooting him a grin. “Of course I remember, Az. I remember everything you taught me.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, that was the exact time they heard the children again.

Lena took off, dropping the spears and running as fast as she could towards the sound. Azriel was right behind her.

They followed the sounds to the base of a tree. Lena fell to her knees in front of it, snow flying up around her as she pressed her hands against the trunk. The children’s shouts were clearly coming from inside.

“It’s hollow,” Lena said breathlessly. Azriel dug truth teller into the side of the bark but nothing happened, it was impenetrable. “What the hell kind of magic is this?”

“Whatever that thing was, it must have used the War as a distraction to make its way out of the Middle,” Azriel said lowly. “We need to get your father out here, maybe his magic can… Lena, what are you doing?”

“Step back.”

“Don’t you dare—”

A second later the tree burst into a mist, brown and green particles floating out of the air and into the sky. Azriel jumped, immediately moving to cover Lena’s body with his own, wings flaring wide.

When the particles stopped falling, Azriel stood slowly, bringing his wings back in and looking down at Lena beneath him. Her eyes were shut from where she knelt on the ground, but she was breathing. She blinked a few times and looked up at him, the light normally in her eyes gone and replaced with exhaustion. She gave him a weak smile.

“Are they okay?”

Azriel looked over his shoulder to see three children huddled together and completely speechless, watching him. He let out a chuckle.

“They’re fine.”

Lena sighed in relief, grabbing Azriel’s hand. His gaze shot back to her, worry written all over his normally composed face.

“We did it.”

Azriel smiled, leaning down and picking her up, gesturing for the children to follow him as they walked back to the village.

“No, Lena,” he whispered in her ear. “You did it.”

~~~~~

After returning the children to their thrilled and very emotional parents, the bartender offered to let Azriel and Lena stay above the tavern, but they politely declined. Then when he had asked them their names and where they came from, Azriel looked over at Lena, allowing her the chance to tell the truth if she wished.

“I’m…” she had paused, and Azriel could see the conflict written all over her face. If she told the truth and said that she was the High Lord’s daughter, she would gain respect as a leader. If she lied, no harm done.

Lena offered a sweet smile. “I’m just a traveller who wanted to help.”

Still exhausted from misting the tree, an exertion that she wasn’t used to or trained for in the slightest, Lena asked if they could just walk for a bit before flying or winnowing. Azriel offered to carry her as he flew, but she’d declined.

He tried not to show the way that hurt.

Not that you blame her, the shadows said. Your scars, they mar and tarnish what’s pure.

They walked in semi-comfortable silence for about an hour before Lena rolled out her shoulders and said she was ready.

“Are you sure?” He asked, maneuvering to look her in the eyes.

“Yes, I’m positive. Come on, I’ll winnow us.” She extended a hand and he hesitated. “Az?”

He met her eyes. Those eyes that haunted him and exhilarated him and encouraged him in every endeavor. Those eyes that had been the last thing in his mind in those moments during the last battle of the War when he thought he was going to die.

He took her hand. He would always take her hand.

The darkness washed over them, pulling them across space until they were falling through the air above the House of Wind. Simultaneously, they extended their wings and soared side by side.

If only it could always be like this.

The moment they landed, Rhys appeared in front of Azriel and punched him right across the face.

One second later he was met with Lena’s earth shattering snarl as she pinned him to the wall with her forearm at his throat and a knife at his side.

“Hey, enough!” Cassian shouted, grabbing Lena around the waist to try and pull her away from Cassian. She only snarled at him as well, and he backed off with his hands raised.

“Lena, stop,” Azriel said, standing to his full heigh and wiping the blood away from his nose. He had seen Rhys coming and known exactly what his intentions were. “Let him go, he’s your brother.”

“You shut your mouth, Azriel,” Rhys hissed. “You took my sister with you on a mission? Are you insane?”

“I asked him to.” Lena’s voice was low and terrifying.

That’s because she’s defending you, the shadows whispered. Why do you think that is? He shoved them away.

“He took me with him because I asked,” Lena reiterated. “I’m not a child.” She shoved off of Rhys in a single movement, sheathing her knife in the time it took to take a breath. “And it seems like Az is the only one of you idiots who recognizes that.”

“You could have been killed,” Rhys snapped, glaring at Azriel, who looked away in shame. Lena stepped in front of him.

“So what?” She asked. “So what if I could have been killed? All of you are almost killed daily, and do I try to stop you from doing any of it? No.”

“It’s different,” Cassian murmured, always gentle with Lena. “You’re the—”

“I swear on the Cauldron, Cassian, if you say Daughter of the Night Court, I will castrate you right here and now.”

“But you are!” Rhys shouted. “We don’t think you’re less than, Lena, I promise. But you don’t have the experience—”

“How the hell am I supposed to get experience if I’m never let out of here?” Lena screamed, silencing everyone. Azriel still had his head lowered, but he felt her look over her shoulder at him. “You all are such hypocrites. You say you fight for the female Illyrians and think they should be given equal opportunities as you all, but then want me to stay cooped up here. Rhys, how would you feel if the love of your life was cooped up all day, unable to fulfill her potential? Or maybe your future daughter? I know you well enough to know that you would fight for them every second of the day. But when it’s me? When it’s our mother?”

“Watch it.”

“No, I won’t watch it!” Lena snapped, stepping right into Rhys’s space. Azriel and Cassian both moved forward as the siblings’ powers flared. They knew that this could get very dangerous very quickly if it didn’t calm down soon. “I know that you love me and you respect me Rhys, but you have to decide if you want to respect me fully or only when it’s convenient.”

Rhys was silent.

“If you tell our father about this, I’ll—”

“You know I won’t.”

“Good.” Lena glared at Cassian and he nodded in agreement as well. “My purpose in this life is not to make you males comfortable, and I won’t live that way any longer. Do you understand me?”

Silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes because I’m too pissed off to argue any further. Goodnight you morons.”

All three watched as Lena strode out of the room with her head held high.

~~~~~

“Psst. Azriel.”

Azriel sighed, sitting up in his bed and heading for the balcony of his chambers. It had only been an hour since he and Lena had returned and had the showdown with Rhys, who had mumbled a half-assed apology before striding off to speak with his mother. Cassian had clapped Azriel on the back once before heading off as well.

After a bath and a glass of whiskey Azriel hoped he would be able to sleep easy. It hadn’t come yet though.

Lena was apparently having the same issue.

“Psst.”

“Lena you know I’m awake,” he called out, flinging off his covers and striding for the balcony. He stepped out and looked up and to the right, where Lena was sitting on the railing of her own balcony. “I take it you want me to get in more trouble?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Lena said with a roll of her eyes. “My mother tore Rhys a new one, don’t worry. You three will be back to best buddies by tomorrow morning. He was just in a mood. Come up here.”

Azriel sighed, wondering if he would ever be able to say no to one of her requests. He doubted it.

Flaring his wings wide, Azriel flew up until he was landing on Lena’s balcony. He could have sworn her eyes glanced over his bare chest from where he hadn’t thought to put on a shirt before leaving his room. Surely not, though. She’d seen him train shirtless countless times.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, leaning against the railing himself.

“Nope.” Lena swung her legs back and forth in the open air from where she perched. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

Her eyes fixed on his as she bit her lip in thought. She always did that. Her linen shorts rucked further up on her thigh as she swung her legs, and Azriel thanked the Cauldron for his iron tight willpower not to look.

“When we were in the village, returning the children,” she began, “You let me answer when they asked who I was.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Azriel inhaled deeply. “I wanted you to have a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re here, in Velaris,” he gestured out to the city below them, “Everyone knows who you are. They’ve given you that ridiculous title with equally ridiculous expectations. None of them really know you though. And when they asked in the village, you had a choice to be who you really are.”

“And who is that?”

Azriel’s heart stuttered as she looked up at him from beneath her long lashes, her eyes revealing a vulnerability he had never seen in her before. It took his breath away.

“Someone strong,” he whispered.

Lena laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “I’m not strong. I’ve gone through nothing to make me strong, I’ve lived here my whole life, I didn’t grow up in the camps, I don’t have any scars—”

“Strength is not always forged in pain,” Azriel interrupted, taking a small step towards her. “Strength is innate. It’s within you. You may have grown up here, but you’re a fighter through and through.”

“Because I’m part Illyrian?”

“Because you’re Lena.”

Her eyes met his once more, her mouth parting slightly as he took yet another step closer.

You should stop where you’re at, the shadows whispered. He pushed them away with a mere thought.

“I wanted those villagers to see the real you,” he said softly. Another step. “To see a leader, to see someone kind and fearless and smart as hell. To see what the future of the Night Court looks like.”

“Azriel stop it,” Lena said quickly, hopping off the railing and stepping right up to him until they were chest to chest. “You can’t say things like that, I’ve told you before.”

“Lena I will tell you until you believe it,” he whispered harshly, ignoring every instinct and bit of training and warning he’d ever heard and gently putting his hands on Lena’s face. “You are powerful enough to be High Lady one day and—”

“Azriel stop it—”

“—I believe in you.” Lena went stock still beneath his hands, staring into his eyes as if he were the only other person in the world. “I believe in you wholeheartedly and it will be my honor to serve you one day.”

“What if—” Lena cut herself off, her mouth hanging open as the words caught in her throat. Azriel cocked his head to the side. She sighed and shook her head. “My father would never let that happen. It’s going to be Rhys one day, he’s stronger than me anyway.”

That’s not what she wanted to say, the shadows whispered.

“That’s not true and we both know it.” Azriel lifted her face to meet his once more, wishing a million different ways that they were in different circumstances, with different pasts, all the time in the world, with no one watching. “I believe in you, Lena. But you have to start believing in yourself.”

They were inches apart, shadows and darkness mingling between them as if they were made for each other. Lena exhaled shakily, one hand gripping Azriel’s wrist tightly and the other trembling as it laid atop his chest, right over his heart.

Azriel burned where she touched him, his blood boiling. He cursed his heart for racing beneath her touch, and that willpower he possessed earlier seemed to disappear as he tried and failed to pull away from her.

“Az,” she whispered, leaning in slowly, ever so slowly.

Stop this, the shadows whispered. Kiss her. No, leave. Hold her and never let go. Run and never look back.

Their lips hovered over one another, so close and yet miles apart. She was waiting. Waiting for him to move the rest of the way, to decide if he wanted this.

I do, I want this, Azriel thought to himself. More than anything, more than the world.

But at the last minute he lifted his chin and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her hand fells to her sides and she leaned into him, sighing sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her skin. He ignored the sound of her tears falling, each drop a tear in his heart.

He pulled away, flaring his wings and flying back down to his room. He didn’t look back.