#rhys is certainly going to try his best and take care of him

[utterlyotterlyx]

Sweet Creature

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - The bond snaps after a rather brutal breakup, and after witnessing you with another Vanserra, Azriel is trying to find a way to avoid being hurt once again.

Warnings - fluff, angst, pining, swearing, unrequited love, heartbreak, sad Az, happy ending (yay!)

Word count - 8.4k (oops)

Based on this ask

It had become so intense in the House of Wind that you had little to no choice in moving yourself to the River House. Between Nesta and Cassian's bustling sex life and the constant bickering arguments between Azriel and Elain, you decided that you needed some peace.

And fast.

Rhys had welcomed you at the door that day, his sort-of sister in arms surrounded by brown leather bags that he could almost envision you launching down the House of Wind steps just to escape as fast as possible. Flipping him off and smirking at his chuckle, you slipped around his form stood in the doorway and headed right to Nyx who was more than thrilled to see you, babbling incoherently and grabbing for you the moment you were in eyeshot.

"I take it that it's getting a bit loud over there?" Rhys turned to you, his shirt half unbuttoned and hands burrowed into his pockets. He was lucky. To have a mate and a child. To not have to live with the band of animals currently residing in the Night Court's most opulent residence.

"How am I supposed to get anything done wedged between that lot?" Nyx smiled at your cooing, lapping up all of your love and affection, "I'd much rather be here with my favourite prince."

Within minutes, your bags were taken upstairs by Rhys who was grumbling to himself about never being able to have any peace to which you blissfully quipped that you'd be out of his hair the moment he bought you a lavish apartment in the city. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford it after all.

Your position within the Inner Circle was irreplaceable. Not only were you Rhys' childhood best friend, the only one he could truly depend on before Cassian and Azriel flew into the picture, but you were also known as a witch. A powerful celestial being that had the capability to destroy and create as you saw fit with an affinity to sky and water magic.

The scales could have tilted in the wrong direction had you truly taken up Amarantha's offer to be her pet, the only reason you had confined yourself to that chamber Under The Mountain was to make sure that Rhys survived, and you played your part well, just as you always had.

A break was needed, the air in the House of Wind was almost suffocating, and no amount of your power was able to drown it. Elain was spending more time with Lucien, her mate, and Azriel was not happy about it considering that they were meant to be in a committed relationship. The barking insults and shouting had become too much to bare, so intense that your own power was itching for release in order to silence them for at least a couple of minutes.

"They're going to break up, aren't they?" Rhys certainly wouldn't be the first to tell Azriel I told you so, but he'd certainly be thinking it when the Shadowsinger would inevitably return to the River House just like you had to escape the nightmare of his life.

Humming softly, sadly, you looked up at Rhys, your godson in your arms resting his head on your chest, "I think so. Az hasn't been himself lately."

It was true, your friend had become a shell of himself, wallowing in self-loathing and doubt, and you cursed Elain eternally for turning him into such a thing. How anyone could hurt Azriel was beyond your scope of realisation, he was perfect in every way, devoted, kind, caring, and definitely a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom if your ears served you right.

Being attracted to Azriel was a natural bodily response, you had told yourself at least, it was difficult to not want to jump the bones of the illustrious Shadowsinger who kept a watchful eye on your every step. Like he was waiting for his moment to swoop in and save you.

But you had never needed saving, and you never would.

Elain and you had never really gotten along, it wasn't as though you hadn't tried to be friendly with the Made sister, she just couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe her own abilities clashed with yours, perhaps she was terrified of you. You couldn't blame her, the idea of you was one that stalked travellers and gifted nightmares to the young.

A celestial witch. In the flesh.

Anyone who knew you well enough would be able to dispel any wrongful intent, but Elain was not one of those people.

"I did warn him," Rhys' finger drifted to hook itself around Nyx's outstretched hand, and he shook it gently as he continued on, "A mating bond is not something to get entangled with."

"Az needs us to be his friends right now, Rhys. A breakup on its own is awful, but when it's so close, when he's been waiting so long for it, it's bound to hurt."

A firm hand on your shoulder comforted you, you knew how tough it must be for Azriel to go through it, after how painful it was to hold out hoping that he would be enough to suddenly not be, "I know, Witchling," you scoffed at the nickname as you always had and always would, Rhys pressed a dainty kiss into your hair, like a brother to a newly born sister, "Whatever he needs, I'm here, and so are you."

If you had known what awaited you that week, you'd take the telling words back in a second.

Like you had guessed, Azriel moved back into the River House, residing in his own room across the hall from your own. And boy, was he a raincloud if you ever did see one. Even his shadows looked solemn, and they didn't have faces. Azriel looked positively awful, constantly messy hair, large bags of onyx that imprinted onto the skin beneath his usually warm hazel eyes that had turned into nothing but dark pools of heartbroken sadness.

In the night, you had heard him crying, you'd stood outside of his door, not saying a word, but hoping that he knew that someone was there for him even if he didn't want them to be.

You had tried to talk to him, to coax him out of his haze by offering to train with him, or walk with him along the banks of the Sidra, you'd even asked him if beating your ass whilst you wore a mask of Lucien would bring a smile to his face. Unfortunately, everything you had tried had failed you, and you were at a loss as to help your friend.

"Honestly Rhys, how do you reach anything in here?" Rhys was hovering in the doorway, eyebrow raised with delight as he watched you try and scale the countertops to reach the top shelf of the cupboard.

There were chocolate chips for your cookies up there, and they had your name all over them.

"It's not my fault you're not Illyrian," his eyes darkened into a smirk, "Why don't you just hop onto your broomstick and fly?"

Even a silent Azriel emitted a gasp from his place on the opposite side of the centre island. If there was one thing you hated, it was being likened to the witches children sang about in their storybooks. It offended you how utterly unalike you were, and it made you seethe when someone, usually Rhys or Cassian, would use that hatred to rile you up.

"Oh," you stood on the countertop, towering over the High Lord by a few mere inches, "Is that why all of the doorways are so wide? Because your fat fucking head needs all the room it can get?"

Rhys stood speechless before you, the room fell silent.

Then a laugh.

Not yours of Rhys', you had to check it wasn't you making any noise before your eyes landed on the owner of the most joyful thing you'd heard in weeks.

A smile. Curled parted lips as a howling laugh ripped through them. Azriel's shadows danced to the sound, and his body shook with it. You could have cried, but you kept it together, you choked down your happiness to witness the momentary return of the one who meant the most to you.

It was no secret that you used to be Azriel's favourite. There was nothing that the two of you wouldn't do together, even if it was a medial task like taking you to the bakery or finding you a new Starfall dress that would make Mor dim in comparison. Azriel was always happy to come along. Until Elain, and then you had stopped seeing another, you'd drifted so far apart that he didn't even properly greet you anymore, all you were adorned with was a curt nod and tight lipped smile before Elain would whisk him away.

The male in front of you was nothing like that one, not in that singular glimmer of hope at least. Once his laughter died down, and a serene smile planted itself on his lips, Azriel opened his eyes and moved them to you, they glowed with something you couldn't quite understand, and then they widened. His eyes faltered. His smile faded.

Azriel gasped.

"Mate."

Darting your line of sight to Rhys, you pointed at him, flickering your gaze back to Azriel who had rose from his seat "Him?"

Rhys swatted your finger away, "I'm mated, y/n," Rhys glanced between you and took a step backward.

"So?" It couldn't be. Not right now. Not now.

"I can't do this," Azriel was struggling to breathe, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, sweat beaded at his brow and his skin had paled.

Scrambling down from the worktop, you went to take a step toward him, one that he mirrored in the opposing direction, furling his wings behind his back and clawing his shadows into submission, "Don't, Az. I can go."

The visible wince of pain that shot through you was enough for Azriel to suck in a breath and disappear from sight. The bond was dull, a golden thread soaring across the night sky to meet a shield of inked darkness. Azriel had closed you off. Shut you out.

Silence befell the kitchen, the chocolate chips you had gotten from the top shelf now scattered across the dark oak wood beneath your bare feet. Rhys had never seen you cry, he almost thought it impossible, but then he saw that single tear roll down your cheek, he could feel the pain radiating from you from finding your mate for him only to run from you.

"Hey, it's alright," he wrapped you into his arms, shushing you softly as he ran his fingers through your hair to soothe the quiet sobs rattling your shoulders, "It's going to be fine, y/n. Azriel's just confused, he'll be thrilled soon. Just you wait."

The snap had been gentle, like you had just come home after a long day, like you'd stepped through the door to see everyone you had ever loved all in one place and he was at the epicentre of it. Safe. Warm. Perfect.

Being a witch, you were never sure how life would look for you. Not even the cauldron understood your kind, you had always thought that perhaps the cauldron overlooked your species for the things most pure, like mating bonds and children. Witchlings were rare, you were the lone example of it, perhaps a part of you thought that you weren't allowed to have any love or joy, that you weren't good enough for it.

And there it was right in front of you, with the male a part of you had always yearned for, dancing in ash.

In the weeks that followed, Azriel did all he could to avoid you. No reason was good enough to make Azriel even glance in your direction let alone utter anything to you.

It had gotten to the point where you had asked Rhys for the keys to the cabin, you packed up your things and stepped through time to stand on that cold wooden floor with moonlight drifting through the small square windows.

You’d never thought that you could ever feel so alone, but as you stood there in a cabin so cold that you could see your own breath, the loneliness certainly began to set in.

There was little else to do other than light a fire to warm the little cabin on the outskirts of the city and run a bath; the tub was surrounded by candles, the ottoman at the foot of it was full of scented oils and salts which made your heart flutter. At least if you were to wallow in your own heartbreak you’d be able to do it smelling like the ocean surrounded by candlelight.

Bubbles crept up your neck as you sank into the wooden tub, it should have been a tranquil moment for you, but it was far from it in reality.

Az, please. Just talk to me. I'm still y/n, I'm still your friend. Things don't have to change.

Instead of enjoying the alone time like you should have considering that it was rare to have a minute of peace in a city full of needy children, you sat and let your mind wonder just how everything had gotten so messed up. You understood his confusion, really, you did, you understood how conflicting it must have been for him to separate with Elain, the female he was ready to spend the rest of his existence with, to then find out he was mated to you, not just you as his friend, but you as a witch.

Talk to me.

Too many tears had been spilled, you couldn't stop them from flowing from your eyes each time Azriel would fumble some excuse to get away from you. The bond was cold, it was like trying to break through a shield, an icy 10 foot deep floor that wouldn't even crack under whatever you would throw at it.

If you need me to leave then I will, Az. I'll leave for you, so you can have space, so you can think.

In the weeks that followed the revelation, you'd done all you could to try and get through to him, to let him know that you weren't expecting him to accept it, that he could take all the time he needed to process everything before speaking to you, all you needed was a sign that he was listening to you, that you mattered. It didn't surprise you that Azriel hadn't exactly thought about you in the predicament, of what it had done to you, and you couldn't even be angry at him over it because you'd be the same.

It didn't mean that it didn't hurt though.

Dark skies littered with blinking starlight was cast overhead, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful that you were sure that it was some kind of abstract painting on a black canvas. The cabin used to be one of your favourite places, Azriel and you used to escape there frequently, spending nights upon nights drinking Rhys' best wine and talking about everything and nothing.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from the memories, your eyes drifted to the clock softly ticking on the wall and you frowned, it was quite late. Lifting yourself from the tub, you wrapped a towel around your frame and padded over to the door, your wet footprints embedding themselves in the wood below. Slight disappointment sliced through you when you opened the door to see Mor, Nesta and Feyre on the deck shivering in the brisk breeze.

"We brought supplies," Nesta pushed past you, placing a wicker basket on the table and shrugging off her coat, "By supplies I mean wine, wine, and more wine."

Mor and Feyre entered, sniffing the air with soft smiles, they had always loved your scent, it was peaceful, like ocean waves lapping against the side of a mountain at dusk, airy, blissful, fresh.

The news had spread around the Inner Circle rather quickly thanks to Rhys, he had told Cassian, and well, Cassian wasn't exactly known for holding his tongue. The Lord of Bloodshed had apologised to you, feeling guilty for making things worse between you and Azriel, but you didn't mind. All you wanted was for the Shadowsinger to simply look at you. Anything else was a pointless worry. Not worth your time.

Tugging the towel tighter around your frame, you forced a smile, "This is really nice. Thank you."

Strangely, both Nesta and Feyre had been surprisingly supportive of the bond between you and Azriel. To them it made sense, you had been friends for over 500 years, you both struggled with fitting in, and you only felt truly comfortable to let your walls down around one another. To them, the bond had been there for a long time, waiting for the perfect moment. Too bad that the perfect moment had ended up making feel like the most worthless creature on the planet.

"Has he let you in yet?" Nesta rested her hand on your shoulder, her other hand was busy handing you a goblet of wine which you hugged closely to your chest and shook your head, "I'm sorry y/n. I really thought he would have by now."

"Give it time. He'll come around," Feyre draped her cloak over the arm of one of the dining chairs, smoothing out her skirt. It had always astounded you just how perfect they all were, the Archeron sisters that is, it was hard to understand how any male couldn't be attracted to them. They were quite heavenly.

"You've all been saying that for weeks," you shrugged off Nesta's hand, exasperated, "If anything he's become colder. Azriel doesn't acknowledge me, he looks right through me, he finds any reason possible to not be in the same room as me and when he sees me in the halls he turns on his heels and runs."

"I'm now living in this damned cabin hoping that some space will help him," your shoulders dropped, "I've waited my entire existence for this, I started to think that I wasn't worthy of it, and when it happened and the bond snaps with the one person I know that I could be truly happy with," your bottom lip wobbled slightly, but you choked it down and swallowed hard, "He ran."

Mor leaned forward in her seat, wide eyes under her perfectly sculpted furrowed brows, "It has nothing to do with you, y/n."

"How am I supposed to believe that when he won't even look at me?"

Something thick and fluffy draped over you, Nesta's robe that you always eyed was resting on your shoulders, "Go and get in your comfy clothes, then we can talk and bitch until all you feel is anger."

Amongst the chatter, you spied the three leather bags full to the brim of differing clothes and cosmetics, and then you realised that you weren't alone, not really, not when those three bags of clothes and trinkets belonged to the three females in the cabin with you, clearly ready to move in and stay with you until you were ready to face life again.

Who needed a man when you had three raging bitch queens?

Nesta was right, you just had to get back to work.

If anything was going to be able to distract you from that aching in your chest, then it would be work.

Luckily, Rhys, whilst he loved your abilities greatly, saw you as much more than just a celestial witch residing in his court, he likened you to a sister, blood family, which meant that he trusted no one more than you to act on his behalf when it came to court politics.

Holding such a position meant that you were rather close with the High Lords, they never saw you as Rhys' lackey at all, they saw you as a being that cared greatly about the continent who would stop at nothing to ensure harmony in all jurisdictions. Such a role meant that you were also required to entertain the High Lords whenever they visited Velaris, a place you had extended to them after the war to aid their research and better their own courts, with your help of course.

That particular evening, Rhys had asked you to entertain a certain High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra; he was visiting Lucien and his new mate, Elain, and the entire visit was putting Azriel on edge. So, naturally, you couldn't say no.

"I always love our dinners, y/n," Eris' whisky amber gaze burned into you, searching the supernatural speckles in your own.

It was no secret that Eris had a flame for you, a being he found intriguing beyond belief, in the grasp of the Night Court when Eris knew how much you would thrive in Autumn by his side. The High Lord had offered Rhys pretty much everything he could to try and convince him to let him near you. All attempts had been swiftly denied.

Plates were littered with blotches of sauce and chicken bones, two empty bottles of red had been disposed of long ago, and you were just about to order that sticky toffee slice that made your toes curl when Eris asked, "When were you going to tell me about you and Azriel, hm?"

Candlelight drifted over the side of his face, illuminating his eyes against the darkening backdrop. "What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, swirling the second glass of your third bottle that evening in perfect circles in his palm, "Come on, y/n. You reek of him, that cedar scent that even I have to admit is rather interesting."

In all of your self wallowing and sudden busyness you hadn't realised that the scent of the mating bond lingered on you, entwining with your scent of blissful oceans to create something new, something drowning. Something suffocating.

"I can admit that the news did hurt me, just a little bit," Eris, since the war, had allowed his hair to grow out. It sat just below his shoulders, layered and playful, he had it lazily pulled back low on his head. Something about that hair and those eyes made you question everything you knew, and you did know that you weren't the only one who felt like that when around the High Lord of Autumn.

Fluttering your lashes at Eris, you ran your fingers across the line of your bodice, "I apologise. It seems that fate wanted to lead me elsewhere."

Eris dismissed the waiter, eyes grinning at you through his lashes, "Let's go to Rita's. I need to drink some more, and you," he pointed to you, knowing that he was interrupting a rather important date with a rather important pudding, and said, "Need to loosen up, Witchling."

That fucking name.

You were sure that steam was emitting from your ears, but you couldn't deny that he was right, you couldn't really remember the last time you let loose and danced the night into oblivion. So you grabbed your purse from the table, a ornate gold cage that matched the intricate details of your skirt, and rose from your seat, "I hate how right you are, Vanserra. Let's go."

The High Lord towered over you, like all of them did really, stupid high fae and Illyrians and their stupid perfect genes making them so handsome and mysterious and utterly fuckable.

Stumbling from the restaurant at the edge of the Sidra, you looped your arm through Eris' and he practically had to pull you along the streets of the city or else you'd go and do a ritual in a field or something. Despite his crush, Eris found that part you a bit odd. In a way, you did too.

"When are you going to come to Autumn, Witchling? You know you'd love it there."

Eris propositioned you with the notion every time he saw you, he clearly thought that if he pestered you about it enough then you'd agree to it one day. Even just a fleeting visit would be enough to satisfy him. Just a day or two. You couldn't deny that Autumn piqued your interest, and with everything going on, perhaps a little break would do you some good.

"Maybe sooner than you think," despite the shameless flirting, you were glad that you could call Eris your friend, underneath that mask of loathing, you found the High Lord to be complex, and he appreciated your understanding. You were the only being that had ever approached him with kindness and treated him for who he truly was and not what he displayed. "All of this stuff with Azriel is spinning my mind. I feel like I'm going insane."

Eris hummed, tugging you a bit tighter into his side as he draped his arm over your shoulder, something completely platonic that you knew would send a certain someone spiralling, "That's what mating bonds do, y/n. I know that everyone keeps on telling you that he'll come around, I hope he does. Truly." It was the first time you had seen him say something and know that he was sincere of it "But, for tonight and tonight only, you are mine and we are going to drink and dance until we physically can't anymore, alright?"

Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze, "Alright."

Rita's was packed to the brim, you could feel the music thumping through the air so intensely that the ground beneath your feet was vibrating in time with the bass. Suddenly, you felt overdressed, but Eris commanded that you not think of it as he pulled you through the doors and past the guards who nodded at you with a curt smile as you clicked by.

In Velaris, you were quite known for being the wild one, the entire city was in awe of you and the powers you displayed so beautifully. More often than not, you would be found in the poorer parts of the city enchanting the children with your magic, curls of water would dance along their cheeks, and they would gasp when you would pluck a star from the sky and rest it in the palm of your hand. You knew what it felt like to feel alone and forgotten, being the last existing witch in your coven and all, and you didn't want anyone else to feel like that. So, if some water and a star would bring some form of happiness to those children, then you'd spend the rest of your life bringing them that wonder.

Eris tugged you through the grinding bodies, some of which parted as soon as they saw your eyes glistening in the lights, and stopped at the bar, shouting over the music to order drinks for you both before he turned, handing you a glass of what you could only assume was straight liquor, "To stealing you from the Night Court, Witchling," Eris raised his glass, rolling your eyes, you met it with a clink and wasted no time in downing the liquid, relishing in the burn that travelled down your throat and chest.

"Keep dreaming, Vanserra."

Hand on heart, Eris swayed into you, "Oh believe me, y/n, I do."

If you had known who was staring at you from across the room then you would have taken a step away from Eris, much like if you had seen the shadows followed you since you left the cabin that evening you wouldn't have agreed to go to Rita's. It was too late to do anything when your eyes connected with his, yours widened in surprise and solemn shock as his own narrowed, flickering between you and Eris before softening.

Of course, the first time Azriel actually looked at you was when you were stood beside Eris Vanserra, a High Lord, the brother of the one now laying with Elain.

Fuck.

It was like he didn't even see you really, he only saw Eris standing far too close to the one the cauldron had decided to be his mate. There was no way to be blind to the hatred between them, and with Azriel's temper and Eris' flare for the dramatics, you weren't surprised that Rhys had asked you to entertain the latter for the evening.

Noticing how your body froze, Eris frowned, he followed your line of sight to the Shadowsinger perched at a booth across the room ignoring both Cassian and Rhys who were trying to speak to him, to keep him calm.

Rhys. I didn't know.

I know, y/n. It'll be fine. We can handle Az if you can handle Eris.

Stiffly nodding, you turned to speak to Eris, to convince him to leave and find another place to drink, but he was gone. Then you saw his red hair moving through the crowd and you cursed, colourfully, and you scrambled through the crowd to try and reach him before he did something stupid.

Rushing up the steps to the usual booth reserved for the Inner Circle only, you stopped in your tracks as Eris' voice sliced through the chilled air, "When are you going to give our sweet y/n a break, Rhys? I keep on asking her to come to Autumn but she keeps on refusing."

Stop talking.

"It seems that she could use a break now more than ever."

Stop fucking talking.

"Especially since the bond is unrequited and she's sat in that little cabin day in day out wondering what her fate will be."

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you tugged on him, harshly, like you were reprimanding a dog on a leash, "Stop talking."

Little did you know, that one touch alone was enough to make Azriel visibly flinch and shudder with pain. That one act pierced his heart deadlier than Elain ever had or could, the way your fingers rested just over Eris' pulse, the way you looked at him with flame in your eyes, it was too much.

Eris wouldn't hurt you, you were the closest thing he had to a true friend, bit his loosened lips would be the end of you, "You both know that this isn't fair on her. Why is she the one who has to sit in misery and move to the outskirts of this city in order to make your poor Azriel more comfortable?"

Tension bubbled, Rhys was slowly rising from his seat whilst Cassian angled himself in front of Azriel, probably to stop the Shadowsinger from doing something he would come to regret, "Eris, you're making it worse," he finally gave you his attention, "Just wait outside for me, we can find somewhere else to drink, okay?"

It took him a moment, but your pleading eyes convinced him to listen, and Eris moved from your side, disappearing from you and leaving you stood before three Illyrians, all of which you were sure didn't wish to be around you in that moment. Fiddling with your fingers, you looked up from the ground at them, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were going to be here. You told me to keep him entertained, I'm sorry."

Rhys froze, his breath caught in his throat, and Azriel was glaring at him with such intensity that it made even you shrink, and you didn't shrink away from anything or anyone, "I'll go. I'm sorry," your chest ached when Azriel didn't even glance in your direction, instead keeping his gaze trained on his High Lord who simply nodded once at you.

Then you left, you grasped Eris by the lobe of his ear and dragged him away from Rita's before Azriel could make him pay for his words, or even worse, Rhys. It took only a few blocks for Eris to swat your hand away, "I'm not a child, y/n." Eris rubbed the red tinged patch of skin at his ear with a pout.

Velaris watched on as you bundled down a cobbled path toward the bank of the Sidra, a place you went to often to channel your magic, it was serene and beautiful, and had been the perfect place for you to find your calm in the midst of such brutality, "That is my mate, Eris. Do you understand that? Azriel is going through so much already, he lost Elain to Lucien," Eris cocked his brow in warning but you continued, "Elain was meant to be the one for him, and as long as Az was happy then I could choke down everything I had ever felt for him because he deserved all of the happiness possible after everything he's been through. I could live alone for the rest of my days as long as he was happy. Then it turns out that he's mine, that he was always meant to be mine, it should have been the best day of our lives," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you were sick of it, of crying, you had never cried, it wasn't in your nature but it was all you could do these days.

"Azriel can't even look at me, I had to move out of the River House and isolate myself from everyone I love just to give him a moment to think and process everything," you turned to Eris, "You just had to prod him, didn't you? You just had to get under his skin. Do you know how this looks? Elain chose Lucien and then he sees me drinking with you?"

Eris ran a hand over his face and sighed, "I didn't mean to make things difficult, y/n. I just want what's best for you, what you deserve."

"I know and I appreciate that, I really do. I just wanted things to get better, not worse."

It astounded Eris how Azriel wasn't over to moon to have you as his mate, you were elegant and graceful, a formidable opponent, tactical and sharp, and one of the most beautiful creatures to ever walk under the skies of Prythian. Perhaps he could have been a touch more sensitive to the situation at hand.

The moonlight waltzed over the rippling waters of the Sidra which acted as a mirror to the sky above, clear and bright, full of possibility.

The bond strained in your soul, empty and unrequited, a lone dying ember searching for its flame, and you knew then that Azriel was going to pull away from you more than ever.

"You should go back to the House of Wind," your voice was small and weak, "I'll see you before you leave tomorrow."

Eris took a step toward you, fumbling, knowing that he had messed up, "Please, y/n."

"Eris," he paused his movements, "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Knowing that nothing was going to change your stubborn mind, Eris retreated up the embankment and down the cobbled path, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Pebbles brushed together under your weight, moving flat to accommodate your position. You hugged your knees to your chest, unclasping your heels and tossing them aside, rubbing the skin on your ankles softly to alleviate the pinching that was once there.

How long could you go like this? How long would be able to deal with the rejection before it broke you? How long until you took Eris up on his offer and left Velaris forever?

You didn't have much time to think of an answer, not when a familiar cool pressure coiled at the small of your back, travelling up your spine and over your shoulders. The shadows drifted through your hair and you smiled sadly at them, at the sweet sign to tell you that you weren't alone.

"How did you find me?"

A shuffle sounded from behind you, shoes scraping along the pebbles, "This is our place. Where else would you go?"

You turned then, peering over your shoulder at him, examining him for a moment. Azriel certainly looked better, his eyes had lightened by a couple of hues and his skin was healthy an tanned to perfection, though, sadness and doubt still lingered in his eyes.

Silently cursing yourself, you turned back to the water. It was yours and Azriel's place, it always had been, until Elain came along that is and then it became your place. Whenever either of you had a bad day, the other would bring them there, to listen to the water rushing up on the rocks and watch the stars, and you'd talk, about anything that was bothering you and causing you any pain, and then suddenly you'd be alright again.

You rose from the ground, brushing little fragments of twigs and dirt from the golden swirls of your skirt, and Azriel gazed at you as you did, wondering how his best friend had become a stranger so quickly, "If I had known you were there tonight I wouldn't have taken him."

"I know," Azriel had his hands bundled into his pockets, afraid that if they lingered at his side then he would reach for you and risk a whole other world of pain, "I think we need to break the bond."

The world stopped moving.

"What?"

Azriel repeated, "I think we need to break the bond."

Break the bond.

It writhed in your chest, it writhed in pain and sorrow, striking you so deeply that you thought you may stop breathing, "I can't do it again. I can't be broken like this again, not with another Vanserra, not with anyone."

Thumping in your chest, your heart cried out, lurching around in its cage, and you struggled to form any words, "Az-"

"It's what's best for us, y/n."

No. No, no, no.

"How can you say that?" Azriel frowned, his hazel orbs softening, like he too was in pain, "I have done everything I can to give you space to process this, I moved out of our home, twice, to give you space to process whatever you need to process and feel whatever it is that you need to feel. I have gone 500 years being perfectly content of being your friend and that alone, because that was better than not having you at all. I stood by and watched you pine for Mor, and then her, the one who put such a wedge between us that I was reduced to polite hellos and nods. But I dealt with it, for you and your happiness. I dealt with all of the comparisons and pain, I dealt with the punishment of your feelings for her. I would deal with every ounce of hatred you throw at me if it meant that you would feel better, hoping that one day you'd realise that I have always been here for you, that I have always loved you in ways that no one else ever could."

You were pacing up and down the riverbank, pebbles knocking together as you walked, and Azriel stood before you unmoving, unknowing of what to say and only knowing that he needed it to end, "You never even gave it a chance," your choked whisper put him on edge.

Azriel had never seen you cry, had never heard of it happening, clearly Rhys had negated to tell him just how deeply the last few weeks had impacted you. To the point where you had actually cried. Tears gathered at your bottom lids and he noticed how you looked up at the sky to prevent them from falling.

"You never let me in."

Everything within Azriel was screaming at him to reach for you, the bond that he had frozen in place behind a wall of shadow was battering against the shield like a ram to break free and comfort you.

You were right, you had been his best friend, one of the few he could ever really depend on for everything. Elain had never liked you, she had always blamed it on her abilities not being able to harmonise with your own, but Azriel had always known it was deeper than that. Elain was a seer, and somehow it hadn't dawned on Azriel just how much she could have been hiding.

Elain hated it when he spent time with you, and being as in love as he was, he believed that it was down to some strange jealously that lingered on the surface. No one would have blamed Elain for her jealousy, you were truly a sweet creature, the other half to his marred coin that he had so carelessly tossed away. What if Elain had seen something and had chosen to lead Azriel away from you in order to preserve what she wanted them to share?

"I've given you everything I can," you sounded utterly defeated, "I don't know what else to do, Azriel."

His name was like a sonnet on your lips, one of heart-breaking sadness and longing, and he stepped to it, his shadows swirled around his body and drifted out to you. They had always adored you. They had always sought after you, a stark difference to their hiding from Elain.

"I would ruin you, y/n. You deserve so much more, so much better than me," his fingers twitched for you, he was so close yet so far from holding you, from inhaling the coconut scent of your shampoo and the scent of your soul, of soft salted breezes and jasmine, "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like you weren't worthy of love, and I'm so sorry for making you think that you were alone in the world," you had cocked your head to the side in question, "Rhys told me."

Azriel took another step forward, exhaling with relief when you didn't make a move to get away from him, "Love scares me. Elain had my heart in the palm of my hand and then crushed it, and then the bond snapped with you, with the one person I know would never hurt me, and I just couldn't risk it. I can't risk it. I can't risk being broken again, I can't risk hurting you."

All this time, when Azriel had been wallowing in the loss of Elain, of having to deal with her and Lucien's bond, he had completely neglected you, and your feelings. It was something you had never done to him, something you never could.

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, it carried your scent to him, and on inhaling it, he felt his entire body relax, he felt his aching disappear, and it was as though the world had gotten clearer. You turned away from him, hands folded over your chest and facing the river so that he couldn't see your tears, "I thought I was destined to be alone. The rules of your kind and the fae have never really applied to me, even the Cauldron doesn't understand me. I thought that it took the chance of love from me, but now I see that it was just some cruel joke."

Let her in. Feel her.

The shadows cooed to him, faintly, like a lullaby to a new-born babe.

"If it'll bring you peace," your voice broke, "Then break it. Break the bond. I'll find some other place to be."

Don't let her get away. Mate. She loves you. Love her. Let her in.

As though the world was tilting, Azriel let down that wall, he felt that bond slither over the seam of it to reach you, and then what he felt brought him to his knees.

Love. Wanting. Hope. Pain. Sorrow. Longing.

It consumed him with light, fighting off the demons that had been left to plague him, decimating them with the most pure substance in Prythian. Love.

When you heard his knees hit the ground you had turned and ran to where he knelt on the pebbles, meeting him as you slid onto your own, ignoring the stabbing into your skin, "Az? Are you alright? What's wrong?" You cupped his face in your hands and he felt each one of your fingertips flow life back into him.

The two tethers to the bond were dancing with one another, meeting in the middle and thrumming as two became one, turning dark skies into ones of bright sun and opulent warmth.

It was you. Sweet and fierce you. You who had always protected him, you who had always put him first even when he couldn't return it. You.

"Az? Talk to me, tell me what's happening. Do I need to call for Rhys? I'll get him right-"

Azriel stopped you before you could rise to your feet, the act of wrapping his fingers around your wrists enough to make your words vanish in your mouth, "You love me."

Settling into the space before him, knee to knee with him and his shadows itching to pull you closer, you didn't remove your hands from his, the feeling of it so powerful that it wiped all of your pain away, "I always have."

Walks along the Sidra. Visits to the bakery. The countless thoughtful gifts for Winter Solstice. The nights spent locked away in the cabin talking about dreams and fears.

Azriel's fingers drifted along your cheek before resting there, his thumb softly soothing the tightness in your jaw, "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because you deserve to be happy, even if it isn't with me," Azriel watched your bottom lip wobble, and that stream of love within him rippled with upset. His thumb moved to it, dragging across that plump flesh that he had always wondered of the taste.

Would you taste sweet or of lightly salted oceans? Of the air at dusk perhaps?

All he had ever chased was happiness, how foolish of him to be blind to the fact he had always had it within you.

"I think the only time I've ever truly been happy, at peace, has been with you. You've always felt like home," your eyes met and he offered you a small, genteel smile; his fingers moved to your hair, raking over your scalp and floating to rest on the small of your back, "I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

Azriel hummed in admittance, "The worst part of all of this was that I left the House of Wind to be near you, because I could be, nothing was in the way of us anymore, and I knew you'd be the only one patient enough to deal with me. It was selfish, but you've always been the rocks on which the ocean crashes, you've always been the one I can turn to without fear of judgement. You understand me."

"I can still be that person, Az. I can still be your friend."

Resting his forehead against yours, Azriel spoke lowly, like he had just awoken from slumber, "Do you know how hard it is for me to not take you back to that cabin right now and make you mine?" The carnal desire was dwelling within him, a rabid need that begged to be satisfied, "But you deserve better, y/n. Better than what I've done. So if you'll let me, I want to do this properly. I want to court you and make you feel like you're the only woman in the world, and when you're ready, not me, you, then you can accept it for the both of us. Because you deserve the magic of the bond more than me, you deserve this happiness."

"And if you don't want to, then that's fine. I can live with what I've done, and if you want to move to Autumn and find happiness there then I won't stand in your way. In no world would I ever stop you from finding love and passion and joy, because you deserve it y/n, you are everything that is beautiful in this world and then some. Every single part of you is destined for greatness, for a love so powerful that people drown in it."

"I hate what I've done to you, I hate that I've made you feel unworthy of a mating bond and I'll never forgive myself for it. But if you let me, I'd like to show you that I want this, that I want you, and you can decide for yourself if a life with me is something you want."

Silence fell between you but you didn't make a move to pull away, you knelt in place, peering up at him with your hands resting on his biceps, channelling the pulsing energy of the Sidra as it ebbed and flowed downstream, "A life with you is all I've ever wanted."

The bond glowed, golden and blinding, and Azriel was struggling to keep himself together as he basked in the ocean of your love and devotion, "Can I kiss you? Please?"

If he wasn't searching for it then he wouldn't have even noticed the tiniest hazed nod directed at him. Even the stars had stopped their flickering to focus on you, their most prized possession, the only one capable of harnessing their power and turning it into something blissful and good. It was why they chose you.

Closing the gap, Azriel tilted your head upward to give him better access to the lips that had often haunted his dreams; the scent of jasmine entwined with his own and he felt himself hold his breath as he closed that gap between you.

Your lips were as soft and warm as he had imagined them to be, they tasted of fresh saltwater and some kind of sweet fruit from the gloss you always wore that made them shimmer in any light. It stopped the world from turning for a moment, the universe watched on as Azriel sealed your fates. Moving his fingers from the small of your back to your neck and deepening the embrace of your lips, Azriel relished in the taste of you, in your warmth, in the way his soul sang and his shadows pulled you in closer to him. It was a feeling he had waited his entire existence for, one you had also yearned for.

Utterly magical. Soul consuming.

Everything made sense then. How everything you had both endured was meant to be, just so that you could end up entwined in that moment. All of the pain and sorrow, all of the false love and distance, all of the laughter and sweet memories, it was all worth it. It was worth every morsel of agony.

"Such a sweet creature. My sweet creature."

"Yours?" Azriel hummed, pressing dainty kisses to the tip of your nose and cheeks, and you closed your eyes to consume his touch and shuddered when his lips landed on your collarbone, caressing the skin there, "I think I could get used to that."

Authors Note

Hey besties!

I got very carried away with this - sorry if it's not great, these pain meds are really kicking my ass right now so I haven't even properly proof read this yet xo

Taglist

@crazylokonugget @fxckmiup @rogersbarnesxx @emryb

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Scars to match mine

Azriel x reader | angst

Warnings: torture, burns

Part 2

When Y/N is captured by the Autumn Court they try to torture information out of her. But what better way to torture someone than with fire?

I woke up with a pounding headache. The world around me was dark. I tried to gather my thoughts, remembering where I was.

The last thing I remembered was being outside in the Autumn Court. Gathering information on their movements. Then I was attacked. It all came back to me now.

I groaned, trying to sit up. My arms and legs hurt, like I had been thrown in here. I managed to get to my feet, in need of finding a way out.

I tried reaching out to my mate, but like I expected, there was no sign of the bond.

That was a good thing, I reminded myself. This would mean Azriel would know something was wrong. He knew about my whereabouts. He would come looking for me. I just had to be patient.

I slumbed back against the cold wet wall of the cell I was currently in. It wasn't big. There was nothing but stone in here, along with a strong steel door leading to god knows where.

A sigh escaped my lips, trying to ignore the pain in my body.

I couldn't wait to get home to Azriel, to just get this over with. Rhys would probably give me a lecture about being stupid, even though he never meant it. This time it had really been my fault. I knew I was getting to close, the possibility of being attacked very high.

The door to my cell unlocked, thrown open, revealing one of the sons of the Autumn Court.

I didn't move an inch, keeping my eyes on him and the two guards behind him at all times.

"Good. You're awake." he exclaimed rather happily.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I just kept staring ahead.

He moved his head to the guards. "Haul her up." he ordered them. They did as they were told.

A small flash of panic went through my body, but I pushed it down.

Their hands were harsh against my body, certainly trying their best to leave bruises. I stood out of free will, but they still kept their strong hold on my body.

"So, you care to explain your plans?" the Autumn son asked.

I stared at him, keeping my mouth shut. He would be a fool if he thought I was going to answer his question. I've been through worse things than torture. This was nothing compared to that.

"Well, if you aren't going to talk I unfortunately have to hurt you." he said with a smile. "But I will try it without that one more time."

He opened his hand, a small ball of fire forming inside of it. I did my best to hide the flicker of fear flashing through me.

Knives, whips, beatings. I could take all of that. But fire.. Fire was one of the worst kinds of torture. Especially with what happened to my mate.

"Tell me why Rhysand send you. What are you doing here?" he tried again.

I let out a small laugh which sounded more like a huff. "You really are dumb." I said to him. He looked offended.

Good.

"I would rather die or be tortured for years then tell you anything about the Night Court." I told him.

His smile disappeared at that. "I kind of wished you would've just answered the question right away. Now I need to ruin your pretty body." he said, his lips tilting upward again.

The ball of fire in his hands grew. A sickening feeling filled my body.

"I think you would like some matching scars with your mate, won't you?" he told me happily.

This time I didn't hide my fear. I thrashed against the hands that held my body, but they were to strong. I couldn't move.

I tried to move my hands away, but one of the guards held them up. There was no way in moving them.

In panic I tried to reach for the bond, only to remember it wasn't there.

Yet I kept screaming Azriel's name in my head, hoping for a small way through the blockage.

He now held the fire dangerously close to my hands. The warmth was terrible.

"One last chance."

"No." I said firmly, preparing myself for the pain to come.

He moved my hands into the ball of fire. Excruciating pain filled my body. Worse than ever.

I cried out, not even trying to hide my pain.

The male was laughing as I kept screaming, begging him to stop.

Everything after happened so fast. I couldn't remember if it had been a few seconds or minutes.

Flashes of blue crossed my vision along with the red of blood.

I fell to the ground, curling up to myself, trying to somehow push my hands away. To get rid of the terrible pain that lingered.

Everything was blurred. But one thing I knew, was that the hands that picked me up were familiar. The voice talking me through my pain was familiair. It was nice.

I could vaguely remember flying. The next vague memory I had was of entering a house, voices yelling and people gathering around me.

I remember telling someone I felt so much pain. I also remember that someone telling me I was going to be okay. That he loved me so much and he wouldn't leave my side.

It was only when someone started touching my hands that I lost consciousness.

The thing I do remember is waking up. My eyes flickered open slowly to find the sun setting outside.

I looked around in confusion. I was in my room. In my bed. Mine and Azriel's.

A warm hand was placed on my arm. I turned my head to find my mate smiling at me. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked gently.

I nod, a bit unsure, still having to process most of it.

His hands cupped my face. "I'm so sorry about what happened. And I'm so glad you're okay."

I smiled at him, lifting a hand to touch his face... only to find it wrapped in a thick bandage. Both my hands.

Realization flashed through me, along with panic and a bit of pain.

Azriel immediately reached for me. "Hey, don't panic. It's okay. I'm here." he told me, staying perfectly calm.

"I-.." I couldn't find my words. "I can't feel anything." I decided on.

Azriel gave me a sad smile. "Madja gave you something strong against the pain. That's the reason you don't feel your hands." he said. "Hopefully.." he added quietly. He didn't need to explain what he meant by that.

Azriel's warm smile had disappeared from his face, sadness having taken over.

"Is it bad?" I questioned quietly.

"Yes. It will hopefully heal with time, but the scarring will stay. It will probably look something like my hands." he explained to me softly.

I always thought Azriel's scars were beautiful. But I never thought I would have to live with them myself. This felt different.

"I will not love you differently because of your scars." he told me, his hand on my cheek. He must've felt my negative thoughts.

"He told me we would have matching scars." I said, not even sure why I was telling him this.

Azriel's body stiffened. He shifted a few seconds later, the bed dipping slightly from his weight. He wrapped his strong arms around me carefully, tugging me into his chest. I gladly let him as I kept staring at the wall in front of me.

"Do not think differently about yourself. I know how hard it is, I've been there. I will help you through it, like you have helped me through it."

I snapped my attention back to Azriel, my eyes locking with his. I nodded, knowing and feeling he meant every word.

I buried my face in his chest, trying not to cry.

He held me tightly, his hands moving up and down my body while whispering sweet words in to my ears which eventually lulled me back to sleep again.

[flickering-chandelier]

I’ll Look After You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: hurt/comfort vibes. Azriel comes back from a mission all beat up and Reader forces him to lay back and be taken care of.

Word Count: 1.7k

You were well aware that your mate was amazing at his job. The best of the best, especially with the additional benefit of his shadowsinger abilities.

This knowledge, however, did not stop you from anxiously wringing your hands every time you knew he was going off on a dangerous mission, especially when he was going alone.

Especially when he said he would be back by now and he still wasn’t.

Normally, you were quite quiet and reserved, not usually one to pick a fight, especially with your High Lord. Unless, of course, your mate was in danger. Then, all bets were off.

You stormed into Rhysand’s study, where he and Cassian were deep in conversation. Rhys looked at you with resignation, and you knew that he was well aware of why you had come bursting through his door without so much as a knock.

“He’s not back yet,” you choked out.

“I know,” Rhysand said. He was using his High Lord voice, the one that he used to assure everyone that he had everything under control.

“Why isn’t he back yet?” You felt your anger and your panic rising, heard your voice crack.

“I don’t know,” Rhysand said gently. “But--”

“But nothing,” you snapped. “Go get him.”

Rhysand raised his eyebrows, clearly saying without saying, this is how you’re speaking to your High Lord right now?

But he knew you well enough that he didn’t seem truly offended.

Cassian finally spoke up, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You know we can’t do that. Nobody can know where we have him snooping around. The only reason he went alone is because we can’t hide in the shadows.”

You were about to snap at him, too, when you felt a tug through the bond. “He’s here,” you practically shrieked, sprinting out of the room and out to the balcony where you knew he landed as fast as you could.

It was an effort to hold in your gasp as you saw him staggering towards the doorway, one hand clutching his side, his armor bloody, his wings drooping behind him.

You flung open the door, and wrapped your arms around his neck as gently as you could. “Az,” you said, choking on your sob.

Despite his injuries, he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “I’m okay, baby,” he rasped.

You had to bite down your comment that, no, he certainly was not. You put an arm around his waist and he slung his free arm over your shoulder. He was still clutching his side as you led him to your shared bedroom.

Rhysand and Cassian were in the hallway as you passed. “Do you need any--” Cassian said.

The glare you shot them both silenced him.

Azriel chuckled, and then groaned, like it pained him. “You weren’t picking a fight with the High Lord and the commander of armies over me, were you?”

“Of course not,” you lied through your teeth.

“Mmhmm. Sure,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with amusement. That, at least, was a good sign.

When you finally reached your room, you led him into your bathroom, helping him sit on the side of the massive tub.

You started running the water, and then stepped back to survey him. “How bad is it, really?” you said, quietly, trying to keep your tears at bay. That wouldn’t do anybody any good right now.

“I’ve had worse,” he grunted.

Raising an eyebrow, you looked pointedly at where his scarred hands were still clutching his side. The fact that he’d been in worse pain before was not very reassuring to you right now. “Do you need the healer?”

“No,” he said, shooting you a soft smile that you were sure he saved only for you. “I just need you.”

You sighed, cursing yourself for the fact that he could still make you blush at a time like this. You crossed over to him and gently tugged on his armor, pulling it off of his chest. He sucked in a breath sharply and your eyes darted to his. “I’m fine.” he groaned. “Just rip it off.”

You absolutely would not be doing that. Taking your time, wincing at every hiss and grunt he made, you eventually got all of his armor off, until he was sitting naked before you, and you were able to survey his injuries.

His side was clearly the worst of it, an open, bleeding wound near his ribs. But it was already starting to heal up a bit. You got out a washcloth and held it under the warm water before lightly dabbing his side, cleaning it as gently and quickly as you could.

Your mate’s eyes watched your every movement. “Are you okay?” he asked, quietly.

“Me?”

Azriel smiled faintly. “I know how you get when I’m out longer than expected.”

You finished cleaning the wound on his side, and took one of his hands in your own, setting his forearm on your lap, starting to clean a cut there. “How would you know how I get?”

“You think Cassian and Rhys don’t tell me? And even if they didn’t, I know you well enough, my love.”

“You cannot honestly be worrying about me right now,” was all you could say, looking at him pointedly, gesturing with the bloody rag in your hand. You wouldn’t tell him that you were okay, not when it was a lie.

“Of course I am,” he said quietly. You were focused on his wounds, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, stop,” you said, you tried to make it sound light and teasing, but it didn’t come out quite right.

He laughed, the sound deep and booming. “Stop? Worrying about my mate? Absolutely not.”

You sighed, surveying him. Many of the smaller cuts and bruises he had arrived with were already healed, and the bigger ones you had cleaned were starting to, now that they were cleaned, but it still wasn’t as fast as usual. Some of these cuts were deep.

The look on your face must have spelled out all your fears to your mate. He gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your face upward, his eyes so full of love and reassurance as he gazed at you. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Words wouldn’t come, stuck in your throat. He gingerly guided your face to his, his hand still on your chin, tilting your mouth up to meet his. Azriel kissed you slowly and deeply, as if trying to prove to you that he was in fact, feeling okay.

He moaned into your mouth, hands roaming down your body. You broke the kiss, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What?” he smirked. “I told you, I’m fine.”

You cocked your head to the side, gesturing to the bathtub, which was now full with warm water. “Get in.”

A choked, incredulous laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You came home bleeding and limping. You need to rest before you do any of that.”

He groaned in frustration, but obeyed, gingerly lowering himself into the tub, his wings stretching out behind him.

When he was settled, he cocked his head to the side. “Does this please you, my love?” His voice was velvet, his eyes sparkling, a side of him you couldn’t have imagined before you knew you were his mate.

Silently, you retrieved another washcloth, lathering it with soap and water, before rounding behind him, cleaning his back in slow, gentle circles.

He tilted his head back slightly, clearly enjoying himself. You smirked, even though he couldn’t see it.

Once you were done washing his back, you tossed the washcloth into the water in front of him with a splash. “Keep cleaning,” you ordered.

“What, you’re not going to help me?” Az teased, reaching for the cloth and running it up and down his arms.

He moaned suddenly as your hands went to his back, massaging his tight, sore muscles. You kept going and going until all the knots were gone, eliciting filthy sounds from Azriel’s mouth.

Azriel sighed contentedly when you were finally done, and you wrapped your arms around his chest from behind him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I was really scared,” you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

He held onto your arms, leaning his cheek into yours. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

You buried your face into his neck. “You don't have to be. I’m just -- I’m really glad you’re okay,” you mumbled against his skin.

He tapped your arm, and you stood up so he could get out of the tub. You handed him a towel, and he wrapped it around his waist, eyeing you carefully.

“Come here,” he murmured, taking your hand and leading you into the bedroom. He dropped the towel before sliding into the bed, pulling you along with him. You settled into his embrace, your head resting on his chest as he traced small circles on your shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll always fight my hardest for you. To come back home to you.”

You made a strangled sound, pressing your face into his chest.

Holding you tighter, he said, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Sorry I got bossy,” you mumbled into his skin.

He laughed, kissing the top of your head. “You know I love it when you get a little bossy.”

You lifted your head up finally to smile up at him.

Smiling sweetly, he took your chin in his hand again, bringing your mouth to his in a kiss that started out gentle and loving, but quickly turned heated.

Gripping your back, he smoothly flipped you over in one movement, so he was hovering over you, his naked body pressing into yours.

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him, heat flooding through you. “Are you sure you’re up for--”

“I’m sure,” he growled into your skin, kissing sensually down your neck.

He grinned at you, sliding his hands beneath your clothes, ready to pull them over your head. “You’ve made me feel so much better.”

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 4 of Betrayal Summary: What becomes of a family so fractured? Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Attempted murder of family, Hurt/No Comfort, Death of a loved one, Grief, Cheating, Betrayal.

Shadows cover his vision, taking away the pleasure of seeing Rhysand's face as Azriel wrapped his hands around his brother's neck, intending to not let go till he is long gone.

Azriel couldn't even think at the moment, nothing on his mind but the sheer hatred he felt for his oldest friend. Nothing on his mind but Rhysand's continued betrayal to Adelaide, even as her body lays still in its eternal resting place.

If she couldn't get revenge for the betrayals right now, Azriel would be her warhorse, having gotten good at the art of revenge over his long life.

So filled with anger, Azriel forgets to leave the walls around his mind locked up tight. It usually wouldn't have been a problem, even at their weakest, breaking into Azriel's mind was no easy feat. But the fear Feyre felt for her mate was enough to fuel her abilities. Suddely, Azriel went slack on top of Rhysand, having been knocked out by Feyre's daemati powers. She hadn't meant to fully knock him out, but she was far too worried about her mate to care all that much right now.

Cassian grabbed Azriel, restricting his arms and wings so he wouldn't be able to attack his brother if he woke up, but not tight enough to hurt him.

The room was silent apart from Rhysand's heavy panting as he caught his breath and Feyre's cooing as she tried to comfort him.

"Are you stupid, boy?" Amren asked, but everyone knew it was rhetorical. "In what court would it be a good idea to tell your grieving and suicidal brother that you made the woman you left his best friend for, the dead best friend he is grieving still, your wife and High Lady?"

Again, it was posed as a question, but Rhysand knew better than to try and answer it.

"We had talked about this, brother. Until we saw that he was better, we couldn't tell him. You may have had more reasons that just wanting to make Feyre your High Lady, but Azriel won't care for the politics of it."

"He was going to kill himself, Cassian! He isn't going to get better. I didn't mean to tell him like that, gods know I can't blame him for what he just tried to do, but we all need to get it into our heads that he is not who he was, that he won't ever be. We lost him the day we lost her." Rhys' voice broke at the end as he said the quiet part out loud.

Truly, as well as he could, Rhysand did see Azriel's side. Love had made him stupid and blind and he knew he did things that the man Rhysand was a few years ago would have also killed him over, but love had changed Azriel too.

Not wanting to partake in the difficult conversation, everyone seemed to disappear, leaving the High Lord alone with his brothers. One unconscious and the other wishing he was so he wouldn't have to talk about what they were certainly about to talk about.

"You had told Addie time and time again that you had no wish for marriage, no wish to tie her to all the responsibilities you had, no wish to put a target on her back. Had I been in slightly worse state of mind when you first told us, I would have tried to kill you too over your hypocrisy, so would most of us."

It was true, the entire family, sans the Archeron sisters, wanted to kill their High Lord for his stupidity, for his continued betrayal. Once Nesta had been filled in on the details behind why it was brutal for him to make Feyre his High Lady, Nesta ran to her sisters to tell her, disgusted that he would continue to hurt his late lover like this.

Only her sisters didn't bat an eye. They knew. They didn't care.

They had their own reasons for their dislike for Adelaide. In Feyre's mind, Adelaide stood between her and her mate, playing the role of the evil mistress trying to break the happy couple apart, even if Feyre easily fit the description too.

For Elaine, it was more skewed. She blamed Adelaide for taking Azriel from her. While the girl had been alive, she had tried to bring the two together after Elaine confided in her about her feelings for Addie's best friend. When Adelaide gushed about how happy she was to hear that, how she had noticed the way the Shadowsinger looked at the youngest sister, Elaine felt as though a boulder had been taken off her chest. Addie never mentioned Elaine's mate, never made her feel bad for not having feelings for him, for wanting another man.

But a few months before she died, Azriel stopped with all the flirtation. He closed himself off from Elaine, remained only by Adelaide's side, and Elaine had assumed it had been her doing. That Addie had gotten jealous when they almost kissed and commanded her best friend forget about Elaine. It made her so mad she wished the stupid girl was dead.

Then when she did die, Azriel was a ghost. No matter what Elaine tried, he just wouldn't get over his misery and grief. So she blamed Adelaide for dying, for closing any opportunities she would have had to get the Spy Master back.

Rhysand didn't reply to what Cassian had said, didn't even give any indication that he had heard the male. Standing up and brushing himself off, he spoke as much as he could with the damage Azriel did to his vocal cords, "Put him in her room. Not his, he doesn't sleep there anymore. I'll call Madja to check on me, and then him. Maybe its time we keep a closer eye on him and if we must, get him help that isn't us."

Cassian was surprised at Rhysand's command. Despite the High Lord knowing he was fully to blame for most of this, Cassian hadn't expected his brother to be so forgiving of his other brother's suicide and murder attempt. But he did as the High Lord said.

It was the first time the General got a good look at Azriel in a while. He had spent the day before with him, but even then Azriel was closed off, hiding his emotions. When he was asleep, Cassian could take in his gaunt face, his pronounced eye bags, and the wrinkle lines that had yet to smooth down from his constant frowns.

He was still beautiful, nothing could take away the Shadowsinger's unnecessary handsomeness, but he wasn't the same as he had been the past 500 years. Cassian had seen him through some of his hardest moments, seen most of his brother's scars form, but he had never looked like this. He looked more lifeless than Adelaide did in her casket.

Gods, what a mess this already dysfunctional family had become.

[daycourtofficial]

Freaky Friday

Summary: based on this request - you and Azriel swap bodies, chaos ensues.

Warnings: allusions to sex.

Author’s note: this is just a silly goofy time for my silly goofy geese. Is this my best work? No. But it’s fun and goofy and who cares

You wake with a groan, your muscles feeling incredibly stiff and heavy. You drag yourself to the bathroom, eyes half closed with sleep.

Everything feels wrong. Your body feels so, so heavy as you open the door to the bathroom. You run some water, splashing it on your face as some fae lights come on.

You sigh, the water making you feel a little more alert. You shut the water off, bracing your hands on the sink, thinking about the mission from yesterday.

It wasn’t this bad - you really didn’t have to do all that much. You and Azriel spoke to a witch for cauldron’s sake - it was more of a test of your mental sparring than anything.

You brace yourself against the sink, remembering the nasty cut on your face. Right now you can’t even feel it, but you should still check on it, make sure it’s healing properly.

You look into the mirror, prepared to see a nasty gash across your face.

Instead you’re met with hazel eyes, tan skin, and onyx hair that are not your own.

And you scream. A deep, bellowing scream.

A moment later the door is shoved open, someone’s body making direct contact with it.

Rhys comes running in, having grabbed a knife on his way in, prepared for any threat that lingers. His violet eyes scan the room, searching for anything that can make his brother scream like that.

You turn to face Rhys, the weight of Azriel’s wings bringing you down. You’re able to look him eye to eye, the height of difference between you and Azriel making Rhys seem much smaller than he used to.

“Az?” Rhys ask, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m not Azriel.”

Moments later you find yourself in Rhysand’s office, not sure what to do with yourself as you try to sit on the couch, the large wings behind you making it hard to sit comfortably.

You accidentally sit on the end of a wing, yelping at the sensation and get up, delicately holding the wing so you can sit.

“Tell me everything that happened on your mission,” Rhys said, and you did. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and everything went fine.

The two of you looked at each other, and Rhys decides to call Azriel and Cassian into his office to see if he can figure out what happened.

-

Cassian pats you on the head as he walks past you, much like he always does. You were much shorter than everyone else, not as short as Amren, but still quite small comparatively.

Then again, Cassian hardly ever met anyone he could look in the eye and not have to crane his neck to make eye contact.

It was your thing - he patted your head, you swatted his hand away, but that was it.

Until this morning, when you whirled around and landed a punch right on his jaw, taking the moment of deflection to grab his arm and flip him onto the ground.

He held his jaw in his hand, your name on his tongue. “What the hell was that for?”

You looked down at him, but Rhys’s voice breaks through both of your minds.

Come to my office please.

-

Cassian laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

Then he looked at the two of you, and laughed some more. You two sat next to each other on the couch in Rhys’s office, but so unsure of how to hold yourselves. His brother looked unable to hold up his own wings, and you looked so lost and alone, likely due to the loss of the shadows.

Feyre had joined the impromptu meeting in Rhys’s office, where no one could figure out why this had happened. And Cassian was certainly not helping things.

“Look I’m just saying if I swapped bodies with someone I’d fuck myself.”

“Cassian,” Feyre hissed, nodding her head to the door.

“Okay, okay,” he says, walking towards it. “I’ll go.”

Cassian leaves the room, but his laugh can still be heard down the hallway.

“Are the two of you going to be okay?” Rhys asks, looking over the both of you. You shrug, knowing there’s not really anything else you can do, meanwhile Azriel nods.

The two of you were taken away from your duties for the time being, which was probably for the best seeing as how you have no idea how anyone manages to hold their wings off of the ground and walk at the same time.

You were going bonkers in Azriel’s body.The shadows had no idea you weren’t their master, so they kept telling you everything. You had no control over them, so a good portion of them kept wandering over to Azriel stuck in your body. Their presence seemed to soothe him, and you wonder just how alone he feels without them.

You could hardly walk without dropping the massive wings behind you on the floor, so you mostly opted to stayed seated or lying down for the rest of the afternoon, staying in the library trying to figure out how you woke up in Azriel’s body.

You walk past Nesta on your way to dinner, the hulking mass you’re carrying around needing much more food than you were used to. You had the house give you an ungodsly amount of food during the afternoon, from snacks to fruits to nuts. You go to walk by, unaccustomed to the new body and slam into her, apologizing profusely.

She looks you up and down smirking, and you realize that everyone likely found this situation much funnier than you did.

Azriel came up to dinner not long after you did, and Cassian began making fun of you two again. Nyx turned to his mom, clearly confused about his Uncle Cassian’s jokes, when she explains to Nyx that the two of you had swapped bodies.

Nyx clapped his hands, the little princeling quite pleased with this turn of events.

“My wish came true!”

Everyone stops what they’re doing, utensils clattering on plates.

“Er what wish, sweetheart?” Feyre asks, her full attention on her son.

“I wanted them to switch bodies!”

Cassian bursts out laughing, throwing his head back as Nesta swats him on the chest.

Rhys is trying not to laugh at the predicament his son has created as he asks, “and why is that, Nyx?”

Nyx looks at you as Azriel and says, “she told me she wanted wings like Uncle Az’s so when we went to the fountain I wished she could do it!”

Cassian looks at Mor, asking, “so wishes actually come true from that fountain?”

After dinner you find yourself standing next to Cassian, looking him in the eye. You never realized that Azriel was a few inches shorter than Cassian. Cassian looked at you, watching as you move around, unable to stand still and he knows it’s you and not his brother.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

Nothing brought Cassian more joy than calling the shadowsinger ‘sweetheart’.

“It’s odd being this tall. I can look you in the eye just standing straight.”

The shadows dart around you two, constantly whispering to you. You would be able to understand them if it weren’t for just how many of them were trying to talk to you.

You swat at them, but even more come back to you, some hitting you in the face.

Cassian laughs, clearly amused at this entire situation. Feyre had taken Nyx back to the fountain to make another wish right after dinner, a wish that everyone go back to their original bodies, but the rest of you were left to wait.

You head into Azriel’s room, leaving Cassian and his teasing remarks behind. You leave Azriel’s bedroom door open just a crack so he can slip in moments later, still in your body.

You run your hands through your hair - his hair, the length reminds you. You look at yourself, not used to this arrangement.

“So uh, this should wear off at some point, right?”

“Right.”

“This is erm weird.”

“Yes, yes it is.” Azriel says, leaning back on his bed. The air in the room shifts, and a sickly sweet smell overtakes the room.

You gasp, hitting Azriel’s - your - leg, “Az, we are stuck in each other’s bodies and you’re getting horny.”

He moves up to you, sitting in your lap. “I can’t help it - it’s your body. You’re so needy.”

His legs straddle your lap, and as he sits down he lets out a quiet moan. You lean closer to him, smelling him, “oh gods, you reek of sex!”

A light blush coats his - your - cheeks, and he responds, “well if I’m stuck in your body, might as well enjoy the company.”

You roll your eyes at him and he starts grinding on your lap, “okay, I-I get it now why you like this so much.”

You laugh at him, as you begin to feel your own arousal in a way that is new.

The two of you spend the night tangled in Azriel’s sheets, exploring this jewel reality you’ve found yourselves in.

-

You woke up in your own body, thank the mother, and the two of you go to Rhys’s office to find Rhys, Feyre and Cassian already in there.

They all peer at you, the unspoken question in their gazes.

You beam at them, “I am myself again.”

Azriel huffs, “I’m glad I can actually reach things again.”

You pout, hitting him on the arm, “hey, it could have been worse. You could have been stuck in some ugly person’s body.”

“Yeah, like Cassian.”

You two chuckle as Cassian’s face gets an irritated look on it.

You and Azriel leave the room, and Feyre turns to Cassian.

“Do you think they had sex last night?”

Rhys turns to Feyre, “there is no way they didn’t. They’ve been sneaking around for months.”

Feyre gasps, “no they have not!”

The two bicker back and forth over whether or not the two of you have been hooking up, and Cassian is uncharacteristically quiet.

“Did you hear anything, Cass?”

Cassian is brought back to the present, telling them he hadn’t heard anything. Truthfully, he knew you two were sneaking around, but he kept it to himself, worried the teasing might mess things up for you two.

You and Az skip off down the hall, both of you going into your room to explore all the things you found out about each other, and Cassian laughs lightly to himself, thinking about all the ways he’ll tease the two of you.

But that’s for another day. Another day when he feels like his brother’s insecurities won’t eat him alive. Another day when his brother will feel like he deserves you.

Another day.

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light. 

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true. 

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy. 

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait. 

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock. 

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown. 

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence. 

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears. 

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less. 

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched. 

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms. 

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace. 

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. 

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands. 

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.  

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would. 

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.   

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers. 

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile. 

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall. 

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again. 

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands. 

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

 “I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway. 

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer. 

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone. 

  You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again. 

 “Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his. 

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips. 

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch. 

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely. 

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head. 

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.  

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips. 

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up. 

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating. 

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away. 

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach. 

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you. 

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples. 

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you. 

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze. 

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

 “The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck. 

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

 He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion. 

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

 “If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice. 

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least. 

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information. 

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

  You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.  

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier. 

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is. 

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

 You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls. 

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows. 

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind. 

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner. 

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /three/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two

The night of Calanmai came. You were buzzing with energy. You dressed in old clothes, and wrapped yourself in Lucien’s cloak, trying to hide your scent as best as possible. To anyone else out there, it would look like you belonged to the fox. That you were his and no one else’s. Which would also keep you safe from anyone creeping a little too close. 

“Stay with me, do you understand?” Lucien questioned. 

“I know, I know.”

The beat of the drums outside grows louder and louder. You could feel them in your soul, begging you to run out and join the fun. You ached with anticipation. You were going to leave this dreaded house and finally see your brother again. 

You just wanted to lay eyes on him and know that he was still in there somewhere, and wasn’t the monster everyone believed him to be. Certainly he was doing what he had to do to survive? Certainly your sweet caring brother was still in there, buried deep within? 

“Come, we don’t have much time,” Lucien said, leading you out of your rooms. 

You shiver against the cool night. Though you weren’t sure if it was the cold that was making you shiver, or the thought of seeing him again. You couldn’t tell him who you were, couldn’t allow him to realize you were still alive. 

He would destroy the spring court and with it any hopes of beating Amerantha at her own game. If Feyre could just admit that she was in love with Tamlin, which somehow you had a feeling she was slowly falling for the Lord of Spring, everything would change. Maybe you could go home again. 

You longed for home. Longed for Valaris, and the group of fae that you called family. You longed for Cassian and Mor constantly fighting and joking. You longed for Amren and her grumpy nature. And Azriel…your Az. The person who seemed to understand you more than anyone else in the world. You longed for him most of all.  He was so quiet and understanding, and so beautiful in every possible way. You wished you would have told him. But you were still just a child. 

You were still so young when Tamlin and his family took you. Barely even eighteen, but you aged slower somehow, so while you were of age, you barely looked sixteen. So small and young. So much of your life stripped away from you. 

You feel Rhys before you spot him. You feel the night rippling off of him, calling your own powers out to play. The headache slowly sets in at the base of your skull as you try to reign in your own shadows and darkness. 

He’s talking to Feyre, and for a moment you smile, because you could see them together in another life. Perhaps if she’d been born a Fae. Perhaps if Rhys needed to be the one to break Amerantha’s curse, and not Tamlin. Because you hated the idea of Tamlin getting to be happy with Feyre once this was all said and done. You hated the fact that she would live out her few good years with that beast. 

“What do we have here?” His silky voice questioned, violet eyes looking you over, “Already have a play thing, Lucien?” 

“Not quite,” I spoke up, daring him to recognize me from beneath the glamor.

you could feel his mental claws scratching against my shields, looking for a way in. He would not find one, of course. Having been trained to block him out since you were old enough to understand the concept.

His eyes narrowed at you, taking a step closer towards you. Meanwhile, Lucien hissed at you to stay put while he dragged Feyre back to the manor house, leaving you alone with Rhys. You ached to tell him, but you couldn’t. If you told him you’d be dead before the next moon rise. 

“Who are you?” 

You bite back the bile that rises in your throat, “Lucien’s…friend.”

“No, you aren’t.”

You only smirk and try to force your way into his head again, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. 

“If you were his friend, you wouldn’t be full of faebane.”

“Maybe I choose this.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he tisks, “Poor little lamb, stuck in spring.”

“I’m far from a little lamb,” You hiss back, hating that you sound and feel weak. 

You are weak, in every way that matters now, you’re weak. And Rhys can’t do anything to help you. He can’t take you away from here, he can’t save you. Because he can’t even save himself. He’s stuck under Amerantha’s thumb, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Your only hope is that poor human girl to actually fall in love with Tamlin. What a fate that would be. 

Lucien returns, dropping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You had to do something, anything to try to let him know you were alive. That you were here. You were right there, just silently begging for him to notice you. So you did the only thing you could think of and flung out what little power you had left. You scratched down his mental shields, already feeling sweat beading on your forehead. 

At this point he’d turned his back, ready to move away from the boring conversation. But your little outburst caused him to spin back around and stalk towards you. You thought he might go for your throat, might kill you right there for daring to do anything to him but he didn’t. 

“I could kill you right where you stand,” He hisses at you, “Without breaking a sweat.”

“Ah, but you’d have to catch me first,” you struggle to say from the strain of the faebane, “I hear I’m like the wind.”

His eyes widen, hands reaching for you, before Lucien took hold of you and dragged you away. You were back in the manor house before you could even think. Lucien started to yell at you, drowning out the sound of the drums outside, which were growing louder and louder. The rite would start soon, Lucien would be needed.

“What did you say to him?” He demands. 

“Nothing, you heard me.”

“No, that meant something!” 

“Just something I used to say as a child,” You shake your head, “I’m going to bed. Have fun.”

You wave him off as you go. You felt heavy and tired. But somehow so invigorated. Your brother was still your brother, you knew that. Deep down he was still Rhys, and not the monster everyone believed him to be. Deep down, he was still there, just waiting to come back out like everyone else. 

That night you dreamt of your wings. Flying over Valaris with Rhys and your mother. Laughing with Cas and Az at the House of Wind. You dreamt about everything, and at the same time nothing. 

“I’m going to get you, little star!” Rhys laughed from behind you as you ran away from him. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” You yell, jumping off of the ledge, “I’m like the wind!” 

The air catches your wings and pulls you along. You smile and giggle as you pivot to avoid Rhys again. The wind whips through your hair as you fly, you don’t bother trying to stop it. It only makes you laugh harder.  You feel so free as you fly higher and higher over the city. You wonder for a second if they can hear you laughing down in the Rainbow. 

You’d have to stop back down there today, you wanted to listen to the music some more. Maybe purchase a painting or two for your rooms. Maybe you could convince Cas or Az to come with you. 

Arms reach around you, causing you to shriek. Rhys’ laugh filled your ears and you relaxed into his arms. It was rare to have moments like this now. Your father kept him so busy, much to yours and your mother’s dismay. 

He pulls you in close and laughs as you nudge him with your elbow, “I love you, little star,” He whispers to you above the wind. 

“I love you too, Rhys.”

When you wake the following morning, you have tears in your eyes. Your pillow is wet with them. You do not get out of bed that day.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @saltedcofeesotch @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @queerqueenlynn

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Eight

Series Masterlist

Cw: None

A nice normal family dinner. How lovely. Rheana sighed softly, smiling hearing Rhysand laugh in her head.

Rhysand subtly tilted his wine glass in her direction, Well, I have missed the bickering.

Rheana reached forward, filling her plate with food, then sat back down, across from Rhysand, There was... Nothing there.

You're too protective... Rhysand chuckled, shaking his head.

Rheana simply shrugged, Someone has to be.

"They’re called Siphons. They concentrate and focus our power in battle." Their attend was taken by Azriel, who was showing his siphons to Feyre, watching as Feyre looked between Azriel and Cassian, the two males who wore them at the table.

Rhysand turned to Feyre, setting down his utensils, "The power of stronger Illyrians tends toward 'incinerate now, ask questions later.' They have little magical gifts beyond that, the killing power."

"The gift of a violent, warmongering people," Amren added. Azriel nodded, shadows wreathing his neck, his wrists. Rheana sighed, she couldn't disagree, she had seen the males at their worst first-hand.

Cassian and Azriel shared glances at Amren's words, and Rhysand knew the looks between the Illyrians in the room pretty well. Rhysand explained the Siphons to Feyre as Rheana focused on every word he said.

"Siphons provide acuracy to focus power." Rheana provided, setting down her glass of wine, she held her palm face up, and winnowed her Siphon floating, such a deep purple it would've looked black if it wasn't for her darkness curling around it.

"Doesn’t hurt that they also look damn good." Cassian smirked, admiring his own red Siphon.

"Illyrians..." Amren muttered, looking between them both

Cassian bared his teeth in her direction in pure feral amusement, taking a drink of his wine.

Feyre turned to Rheana, curiosity in her eyes, "How... How are you not wearing your Siphon like... Like Lord Cassian an-"

Cassian broke into a laugh so hard he spewed his wine all over Mor, making her jump up and start cleaning herself. Azriel grinned wide, arms crossed over his chest as Rheana covered her face with her hands to laugh behind it. Feeling bad about the way Feyre blushed in embarrassment.

"Cassian," Rhysand speaks up, "Is not a lord. Though I’m sure he appreciates you thinking he is." Rheana nodded, knowing Cassian would not let it go for a while.

"While we’re on the subject, neither is Azriel. Nor Amren. Mor, believe it or not, is the only pure-blooded, titled person in this room." Rhysand confirms.

"Rhys and I are half-Illyrians. Bastards just the same in the eyes of thoroughbred High Fae." Rheana rolled her eyes, "Even if Rhys is High Lord and that would make me the court's Princess as the brothers and sisters of an heir or High Lord are called."

“So you... You three aren’t High Fae?” Feyre asks, looking between the Illyrians

Cassian finally stopped laughing, "Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And glad of it." Cassian pulled his hair back, "And we’re not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We’re just... Illyrians. Considered expendable aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier grunts at the worst."

"Which is most of the time," Azriel adds.

Rheana sighs softly, "Well, we're trying to do better..."

"I didn’t see you Under the Mountain," Feyre asked, looking at the Inner Circle.

"Because none of us were." Mor said, and a little quiet fell over them all, Rhysand's expression cold.

"Amarantha didn’t know they existed. And when someone tried to tell her, they usually found themselves without the mind to do so." He whispered nonchalantly, not caring about the people he had hurt when they had tried to betray him.

"You truly kept this city, and all these people, hidden from her for fifty years?" Feyre asked, looking from person to person, noting their expression.

"We will continue to keep this city and these people hidden from our enemies for a great many more." Amren spoke, her cold voice and everyone else's emotionless face didn't hide how much losing Rhysand had hurt.

Mor's voice was raw, as she spoke "There is not one person in this city who is unaware of what went on outside these borders. Or of the cost."

Rheana swallowed, losing her appetite as she pushed her plate forward, "Trust us, Feyre, Velaris does not take the grace given to our people by us keeping them hidden lightly."

"How did you meet?" Feyre asked Azriel and Rheana smiled, noting how she had gotten so comfortable with Azriel despite his rather distant nature.

"Well, let me tell you Feyre, as someone who watched them like a hawk growing up," Rheana leaned forward, with mischief in her eyes.

"Please... You are only two years younger than me, sister," Rhysand rolled his eyes, but his distant hard look melted away, "You were right in the middle of us."

Cassian chuckled, nodding his head in Rheana's direction as if wanting her to tell their story, "We all hated each other at first."

The Windhaven war camp was nothing like Rheana would've imagined, well, it was brutal from the looks of it, as the 6-year-old melted into her mother's dark skirts, watching her brother dressed in fighting gear, she could sense his fear, as he looked in the grounds where many folks were already sparing, brutal and bloody.

"Don't die..." Rheana whispered softly, watching a male slightly older than her brother approach him, the male wore scraps that barely covered him, while Rhysand was dressed head to toe in fine fighting leather.

Rhysand sighed as their mother held Rheana, pulling her away as he whispered, "I'll try not to."

It had taken precisely half an hour, that Rhysand had managed to stumble back to their mother's house at the edge of the camp, he was covered in black and blue bruising, bleeding from his wounds, skin split open, his leather missing, shirt gone, pants slightly ripped.

"Rhys!" Rheana rushed to her brother, eyes wide, scared for his safety. She reached for him, pulling him to sit, "Mama! Mama Rhys is hurt!"

"Dalia," There was an older male at the door in an instant, calling for their mother. "We need to talk."

Dalia had been rushing to her children the second Rheana called for her, eyes narrowing when they came across Devlon, who held a whip in his hands, "Devlon... What do you want?"

Rheana glared at Devlon, the male nearly 90, seeing the whip she stood in front of her brother, watching her mother and the male, who stood outside their house, not stupid enough to enter without consent, scared of facing the wrath of the High Lord.

"Your son picked a fight without permission," Devlon turned to stare at Rhysand over Rheana, "Three lashes for punishment."

"No!" Rheana stood in front of Rhysand, who could barely move, parts of him swelling, "That... That Illyrian came to him!"

"Well, I did fight..." Rhysand got up, towering over Rheana and looked at their mother, who looked at him with sadness, "I accept the punishment."

"Good..." Devlon's smile made Rheana's skin crawl, "Come now."

But their mother walked to the door, "He will when I want." She gave the male a smile, the way Rheana and Rhysand had never seen her smile before as she shut the door at his face.

Rheana's mother looked at her with soft eyes, "Draw a bath for your brother, he will have to go for his punishment. As will the one he fought with."

Rheana ran to the bath, slowly filling the bath with cold water, her thoughts on the brutality her brother would be facing the years he would be here. Her mother had tried to explain it to her, how he would be expected to be strong, and since her and her brother were what people called half-breeds, he would be expected to prove himself ten times over.

Not that she understood it, or her young brain couldn't have, on why he needed fists when he had his magic that he had been working on, that they both had been.

She thought of Rhysand's split lips and bruises, knowing he gave what he got really well, a part of her wanted to demand he take her to the male who beat him to a pulp so she could land a few punches on him herself. But for now, all she wanted was to heal her brother from his injuries, hurting people came later.

And it had come, weeks later when in the dead of the night Rhysand had dragged in the male, whose name was Cassian and Rheana launched at him, successfully scratching his face before Rhysand and their mother could get her off him. "You did it!" She yelled, having her mouth covered by her mother so she wouldn't wake anyone as Cassian healed from her scratches.

"Wow..." Cassian simply whispered, looking at the little girl, less than half his size managed to scratch him like a cat, "She's good." He commented.

"There is a bathtub with hot running water. Get in it or you can go back into the cold." Dalia states clearly, holding her daughter still, her brow raised at Cassian, waiting for his choice.

Rheana had calmed down as Cassian whispered, "I've never had a hot bath before..." His eyes fight to show vulnerability.

After sending Cassian off to bathe, Rhysand had pulled out some of his own clothes for him to wear after he dried himself, Rheana watched her brother, helping the poor boy, 'bastard' the people around the camp had called him, that is why he stayed on the grounds, in a shabby little tent with the only clothes to wear that he won in battle.

Rheana stood outside the bathing chamber, her hands tucked behind her back as Cassian exited the room, wearing her brother's clothes, "Mama said I need to say sorry..."

Cassian snorted softly, "And are you going to?"

"Nah," She shook her head, "You hurt my brother, I really wanted to scratch you."

"Well, take my word for it, you were pretty good," He comments, his tone genuine, "Try a punch next time." He walks past her, to the room her mother had given him.

Rheana listened attentively, as Rhysand told Feyre the story of their parents, what once felt like the greatest love story to her, but only now she had realised how wrong they were for each other.

"The mating bond between them clicked into place. One look at her, and he knew what she was. He misted the guards holding her." Rhysand drank down some wine, washing away the bitter taste the story left for him too.

"Misted?" Feyre asked.

Rhysand floated a lemon wedge, above the table much to Cassian's amusement. With a flick of his finger, it turned to a citrus-scented mist, Feyre's eyes going wide, both with horror and fascination.

"Through the blood-rain," Rhysand continued with the rest of the story, "Our mother looked at him. And the bond fell into place for her. Our father took her back to the Night Court that evening and made her his bride. She loved her people, and missed them, but never forgot what they had tried to do to her, what they did to the females among them. She tried for decades to get our father to ban it, but the War was coming, and he wouldn’t risk isolating the Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him."

"A real prize, your father," Mor grumbled and Rheana couldn't help but snort.

Rheana joined in, "Well, after Rhys became High Lord, he banned wing clipping instantly, and I make sure these Illyrian males follow the laws." And the look in her endless violet eyes told Feyre that she did not take her job lightly. She was the fear in the hearts of Illyrians who would dare raise a hand on their females. Not a single person in the room needed convincing she was as ruthless as they come when she needed to be. Her eyes met Azriel's, because maybe that's why the two had felt an instant connection, beings cut from the same cloth.

"Our father and mother, despite being mates, were wrong for each other. Our father was cold and calculating, and could be vicious, as he had been trained to be since birth. Our mother was soft and fiery and beloved by everyone she met. She hated him after a time, but

never stopped being grateful that he had saved her wings, that he allowed her to fly whenever and wherever she wished. And when I was born, and could summon the Illyrian wings as I pleased, and Rheana was born with them, She wanted us to know her people’s culture." Rhysand stated, looking at Rheana with a look that told her he had been reminiscing their childhood just like she had.

"She wanted to keep you out of your father’s claws," Mor swirled her wine, and Rheana knew it to be true, had her father had more control over their upbringing, she wondered if she would've seen Cassian and Azriel not as her closest friends but the same bastards High Fae saw, even their own people.

"And you chose to do this...?" Feyre asked Rheana, "Training at the camps..."

"Yeah," Rheana nodded, "My father said I couldn't and well... I've not been big on rule following, so I joined in. And even if my father didn't exactly want me training like the men, he was't going to have 'brutes' deny anyone of his blood anything."

Rhysand then talked about his power and inability to wield a Siphon when Feyre asked, "But you can do it, carry Siphons?" Her question was directed towards Rheana, "Shouldn't you be the same when it comes to power? At least back then?"

"I couldn't back then," Rheana clarifies, "I couldn't until I joined this group of elite female warriors, from all across Prythian where I was taught to stablise my power, to not lose control of it."

"Oh yeah she did that a lot," Cassian laughed softly, "Her eyes would go all black and her skin lost colour... Now she just does it for show."

Rheana rolled her eyes at the male, flipping him off and making him laugh harder, because she did do it just for show now, she liked the fear that coursed through the veins of people who saw her like that then, and she still did.

"There is a group of female warriors?" Feyre asked, leaning on the table, and giving Rheana all her attention

Rheana sighed softly, giving Feyre a smile, "Well, there was... We were called the Valkyries, they had existed long before any one us," She looked at Amren, "Well, maybe not Amren, and they were a force to be reconned with, my mentor, Mithra, who was from the Day Court, the current High Lord's sister, taught me most of what I know."

Feyre's eyes were wide with fascination, "What happened to them?"

Said fascination was cut short as Rheana replied with a clipped tone, "The War."

"So were you three friends after that." Feyre asked, changing the topic instantly.

"No—Cauldron no," Rhysand said. "We hated each other, and only behaved because if one of us got into trouble or provoked the other, then neither of us ate that night. My mother started tutoring Cassian, but it wasn’t until Azriel arrived a year later that we decided to be allies."

Rheana sighed softly, "Ma could be ruthless when she wanted to be."

Cassian then talked of Azriel, and Rheana remembered it like it was yesterday, despite their age difference, Azriel and Rheana had started their training together, "Rhys and I made his life a living hell, shadowsinger or no. But Rhys’s mother had known Az’s mother, and took him in. As we grew older, and the other males around us did, too, we realized everyone else hated us enough that we had better odds of survival sticking together."

"Because they were always seprated," Rheana added, "And we were stronger because in some way, we were bonded."

"Do you have any gifts?" Feyre asked him, motioning to the trio of other Illyrians. "Like them?"

Cassian declines, not without making a few comments about his bastard nature, which Rhysand nearly jumped to defend before he denied, he had no powers except killing and a raging temper, "Even so, the other males knew that we were different. And not because we were two bastards and half-breeds. We were stronger, faster, like the Cauldron knew we’d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys’s mother saw it, too. Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight."

As the females surrounding them crinkled their noses and scoffed, Azriel rolled his eyes, "What are you scoffing about? You were way worse than us."

Rheana groaned softly, "Well, excuse me, a lady has needs."

"Mother forbid a female do anything, right?" Mor added in. And both of them were sure that Feyre nearly cracked a smile.

Cassian simply shrugged. "Rhys and Rhea’s power grew every day—and everyone, even the camplords, knew they could mist everyone if they felt like it. And the two of us … we weren’t far behind." He tapped his Siphon with a finger. "A bastard Illyrian had never received one of these. Ever. For Az and me to both be appointed them, albeit begrudgingly, had every warrior in every camp across those mountains sizing us up. Only pure-blood pricks get Siphons—born and bred for the killing power. It still keeps them up at night, puzzling over where the hell we got it from."

"Then the War came," Azriel began, and Rheana slowly started to drown them out, not wanting to hear more of the story, "And their father visited our camp to see how his son had fared after twenty years."

"Our father," Rhysand said, swirling his wine, "Saw that his son, and his daughter had not only started to rival him for power, but had allied themselves with perhaps the two deadliest Illyrians in history. He got it into his head that if we were given a legion in the War, we might very well turn it against him when we returned."

Rheana looked away, the memory of the last order her father had given her still in her head, locked her up, she hated him for it, but she could never stop. He had let her friends die, and the feeling of rushing to read the death roll for her brother's name, her friends', before even her mother and sister got their hands on it was something she could only mask, cause it never left.

"That is a story for another time," Rhys said, sharp enough to pause Cassian.

Rheana looked back at the table, reaching for a bottle of wine, and completely pouring it into her glass, "This is going to be quite the long dinner..."

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist- @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter vi – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warnings: spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

Eris did as he promised to the High Lady and Lord of Night Court: he found their best booze and chugged two glasses before pouring a third and forcing himself to nurse is. 

There was a fire already crackling when he entered. Night Court had a subtle chill not so different than Autumn Court. Though Eris wish he had a sanctuary similar to Feyre and Rhysand that could give him such comforts. 

What the Cauldron are you doing here? Eris asked himself. 

He should be back in Autumn Court by now. This was not part of the plan. He was meant to check on Y/N, instill fear into the hearts of Rhysand and his court, and never to appear again. 

But now he planned on having dinner with his mate? His mate who had no idea that they were mates. 

Someone finally walked into the drawing room. 

Eris recognized her as the middle Archeron sister. His youngest brother’s mate. 

Her eyes grew wide at his presence.

But then she blinked and seemed to relax quite a bit. “Oh, I thought you were your brother.”

Eris smoothly took another sip of his drink before he said, “I take that as a great offense. I am far more handsome than him.” 

Elain managed to force a small smile. But Eris saw how much effort it took her, more than anything. 

“I-I did not realize you were dining with us,” she muttered awkwardly. 

Clearly his presence made her uncomfortable, whether he was Lucien or not. 

“I was forced,” Eris answered bluntly. 

A toddler came crawling after Elain, cooing and trying to climb up his aunt’s legs. 

Elain smiled – genuine, this time – and leaned down to pick up Nyx. 

“So this is the little prince…” Eris finally spoke, observing the toddler. 

“He’s certainly treated like one by all his aunts and uncles,” Feyre joked, finally entering the drawing room with Rhysand right behind her. 

She immediately went for her son, who beamed at the sight of his mother. 

Eris had never thought much about children. Being the eldest of seven meant he was often asked to take care of his brothers growing up. The last time he held a baby was when Lucien had been one. 

He figured he’d have children when a marriage was forced upon him by his father for political reasons. 

But with Y/N…Eris doesn’t know if he could go through with such a union now. Even though there was voice in his mind screaming that it would put a much needed chasm between the two of them if he did. Distance from him is what Y/N needed most of all. And an arranged marriage with some courtier or another would do just that.

There was a ruckus coming from the front entrance. 

Illyrians, Eris thought. So loud and obnoxious. 

The rest of Rhys’ inner circle came waltzing into the drawing room: Cassian with his mate Nesta, then Amren, Azriel, Mor. But it was Y/N who walked in last. 

And the sight before Eris made him lose his breath. 

Y/N wore a dress of Night Court fashion: a grayish plum color that curved into the shape of her body so naturally. While there was hardly any skin showing, it made Eris’ heart race just a little bit faster. 

Her face was painted with rather dramatic makeup. Though it suited her and she looked beautiful, Eris somehow knew that Y/N must not involve herself in such glamour in her daily life. 

It also completely hid the bruises that Eris had spotted earlier.

“Y/N, you are allowed to tell Mor no,” Feyre giggled at the sight Y/N all dressed up. 

Y/N shrugged politely and ducked her head as she said, “It seems to bring her so much joy. I don’t have it in me to stop her.” 

But Mor wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. Because as soon as her eyes had been locked on Eris, she gave him a glare that Eris felt should’ve killed him. 

“What is he doing here?” Mor snapped. 

Eris had been too busy getting lost in Y/N to even notice that he was someone’s prey. 

Rhysand stepped forward. “He is our guest tonight, Mor.” 

Y/N watched everyone’s reaction’s to Eris’ presence carefully, and she was smart enough to put together that Eris was no friend to the inner circle. 

Then she looked at Rhysand, staring intensely at More, who still glared at Eris. She knew the High Lord must be speaking to her through their minds. 

“I’m famished!” Cassian groaned. “Let us eat already.”

And the tension was broken – for now. 

Rhysand and Feyre guided them to a formal dining room with a long table. However, at the head on one side were two chairs. So the High Lord and Lady could sit next to each other instead of being separated by a massive table. 

Feyre kept Nyx in her lap, seeing no issue with feeding him while she also fed herself and entertained their friends and guest. 

Nesta sat on Feyre's left side, Cassian sat next to her, and then Y/N squeezed in between Cassian and Mor. Eris could tell it was purposeful. As if Mor and Cassian were protecting the human girl by sitting on either side of him. 

Eris managed to grab the seat on the other side of the table that was directly across from Y/N. If he was going through with this terrible dinner, he was at least going to get a good view of his mate. 

Amren sat on his other side, at the corner of the table. Whether it was to keep an eye on him or because she didn’t care to sit beside him at all, he didn’t know. Azriel sat to Eris’ left and then Elaine was between the Shadowsinger and Rhysand. 

Feyre noticed the unusual quietness. 

Their dinners tended to be chaotic, but full of love and camaraderie. 

The tension of Eris’ presence was impossible to ignore. 

“Wine,” Feyre blurted out. And everyone’s glasses filled with it. 

The High Lady didn’t hesitate to toss the entire glass back. And her mate watched in amusement. 

“Y/N,” Feyre called to her politely. “Have you been properly introduced to our guest?”

“No,” Y/N answered bluntly. “But I know who he is.” Then she muttered under her breath as if she were talking to herself. 

Eris watched her closely, yet still somewhat discreetly. 

She then eyed him right back, as if silently telling him, ‘And I can see enough to know I shouldn’t like you…or trust you.’

“Let us toast,” Rhysand stood.

Feyre joined him, Nyx balancing on her hip and her other arm holding out her wine. 

“To Y/N,” Rhys started. “Who risked her life to protect and save my son.” 

Cassian pounded his fist on the table, “Hear! Hear!”

Mor bumped Y/N’s shoulder playfully, yet proudly. 

Eris looked around to see that everyone was beaming at Y/N, who shrunk at the attention, but still slightly lifted her glass off the table. 

“We can never repay such a debt,” Rhys added ever so seriously. 

“But he will surely try,” Feyre added with a smile, lightening the mood a bit. 

“I could smell the flower shop you put in her room from down the hall,” Nesta commented, pretending to act as if it had been an inconvenience. 

Y/N smiled at Nesta, almost gratefully. 

As soon as the toast was over, food appeared on their plates with a snap of Rhysand’s fingers. 

Eris noticed that Y/N was looking around, observing everyone. It was as if she needed to make sure she was matching the groups etiquette, how formal or informal they ate and talked. He had already assumed Y/N had not been from a wealthy mortal family. But her watchfulness only proved it.

“We haven’t poisoned your food,” Cassian teased Eris when he noticed the male hadn’t started eating. 

“Maybe we should have,” Mor snips before taking a bite and added a glare to Eris. 

“I neither begged nor requested this invitation. Your qualm is not with me,” Eris cooly answered. 

“Did you have fun in the stables today, Y/N?” Rhys asked, taking on the role to defuse any sort of tension aimed at Eris. 

Y/N nodded shyly. “I didn’t expect you to have horses…since all of you use…different forms of travel.” 

“Do you like horses?” 

Eris shocked himself, not even realizing the question had come from him until he saw Y/N’s eyes widen in surprise. 

Everyone else had paused for a moment to process his boldness as well. 

Y/N lowered her gaze to her plate as she nodded and then muttered lowly, “I don’t believe there’s any animal that I don’t love…” 

An image of Y/N meeting Eris’ smoke hounds flashed into his mind. 

But Mor wasn’t finished yet. “Have you killed that demon of a father yet, Eris?” 

Eris didn’t look up from his plate, but his grip on his silverware tightened so hard that he was convinced he was about to break it in half with just his thumb.

So much scheming and secrecy lingered around Eris’ plans to rule Autumn Court, that to have someone so blatantly speak ill of his father and expose his plans was infuriating. 

He glanced to his left to see that Azriel gripped a knife in his hand and his shadows were humming with anticipation. The Shadowsinger was fulling expecting Eris to fling himself across the table and try to strangle Morrigan. 

“Mor…” Feyre warned, but she mostly sounded disappointed. 

“You wish to kill your father?” Y/N asked ever so quietly, eyes narrowed with suspicion and distrust. 

Eris knew what Mor was doing: ruining his image befor he ever got to even have a conversation with Y/N.

In a way, he respected her strategy for trying to protect Y/N. 

But Eris couldn’t ignore Y/N when she spoke so directly to him. 

“My father is unfit to rule,” was all he told her. 

But the answer made Y/N’s face scrunch even further in thought. 

Mor continued with, “What’s stopping you?”

Eris ground his teeth before snapping, “I can only assume it is the same thing that’s stopping you from killing your own father, Morrigan.” 

Mor shot to her feet, fist clenched at her side. “I’ve lost my appetite suddenly.”

A soft wind brushed through the room. 

“It was not him that tortured you,” Y/N mumbled, eyes staring off into the distance. 

But it was enough to stop Mor in her tracks. 

“He brought you to the border and sent word that you needed saving,” Y/N added darkly. 

Then she blinked, as if bringing herself out of a daze. 

Mor took a deep breath as she stared at the back of Y/N’s head. But then still continued her exit, slamming the door of the dining room behind her. 

Eris’ gaze shot to the High Lord and Lady. “What tales have you been telling her?”

“Y/N has a knack for knowing things that have never been told to her,” Rhysand tried to speak for her, making it seem nonchalant with a wave of his hand. 

Feyre managed to shift the conversation to lighter topics. And the Inner Circle was set on helping her as much as they could. 

Azriel seemed to be the most annoyed with Eris' attendance. But his stoic silence was the only outward rebellion to their guest. 

Cassian joked with both Feyre and Y/N. Nesta pretended to be annoyed, but would give her mate looks of love when she thought no one was watching. 

Y/N seemed to lighten as the conversation continued. She wouldn’t add anything, but answered pleasantly when anyone spoke to her. 

But every so often, her eyes would subtly move to Eris as if he were a puzzle she were trying to figure out. 

Eris mostly ignored the conversations around them. But he held onto every single word Y/N spoke and intended to memorize them within his heart. 

When they were all finished eating, Feyre said something about going back into the drawing room for drinks and possibly dessert. 

But Eris noticed a door leading into their back garden that eventually led to a river. 

Without saying anything, Eris walked out of the home. The fresh air did him wonders. Even with so many other people and a steaming supper, Y/N’s scent had infiltrated his senses.

And his body was screaming at him to just speak to her, to get her alone. 

The cold air woke him from his trance. 

He leaned his head back and looked up at the sky. 

It must be the magic of the Night Court that made the stars and moon seem even more beautiful here. Though Eris wondered when the last time he even looked at the sky in Autumn. 

“Are you trying to flee?” A deep voice said behind him. 

Eris slightly turned to face the Illyrian General. 

It sometimes seemed like Cassian hated him the least. But perhaps Eris was confusing his smugness of winning Nesta as a lack of hatred towards him. 

“Never. Though I should be leaving soon,” Eris clipped back. 

Cassian still lingered though. 

And Eris shifted his weight. His eyes were distant, as if he seemed to be mulling something over in his head. 

“Do you wish to ask me something?” Cassian asked. 

But he surprised Eris by appearing rather serious, no teasing in his tone. 

Eris cleared his throat. “Before your mate was turned fae, did you know?” 

Cassian nodded his head slowly. “I had an…inkling.” 

Eris only gave a slight nod. 

“It is stronger for you?” Cassian asked in return. 

Eris didn’t want to share something so intimate with anyone, let alone someone he still considered an enemy. But this Illyrian was the only one who seemed to relate to the turmoil he was going through. To know your mate is mortal... it was a terrifying realization. 

“As soon as she–“ Eris cleared his throat. “As soon as she looked me in the eye, the bond snapped into place.” 

“Perhaps it’s because she needed saving,” Cassian pondered. “The Cauldron has strange ways of connecting us.”

Then the Illyrian turned and looked at the window of the drawing room. Y/N was on her knees, controlling little gusts that lifted Nyx a foot off the ground with his baby wings. Nesta smiled as Nyx fell into fit of giggles when he slowly lowered to the ground.

Eris inhaled sharply. “She’s…”

“A witch, yes.” Cassian finished for him. 

Eris seemed to process this. The eerie knowledge she had on everyone, the dazed look she sometimes got, the muttering to herself, the reason she was able to protect the heir of Night Court against an infantry of fae. 

Eris had spent so little time with her, yet somehow he'd sensed from the moment he met Y/N that there was something more to her. 

“That is how she saved the boy,” he breathed. 

Cassian nodded. “Rhys didn’t tell you?”

Eris’ expression darkened. “No, he failed to share that particular detail.”

“Y/n says people have always just believe she is crazy,” Cassian commented darkly.

Was that a protective tone in the Illyrian's voice? 

“The wind,” Eris commented. “It tells her things.” 

Cassian nodded again. “For the most part, she keeps it to herself. Y/N’s more than aware that many only know witches as evil beings, drinking the blood of innocents and thirsting for more power than they should ever possess.”

But both males knew there was nothing evil about Y/N. 

Eris still watched Y/N through the windows. She now held little Nyx in her lap while softly talking to both Nesta and Elain. Perhaps she liked talking to the them because she could sense that they were once mortal like her. 

As if feeling someone watching her, Y/N’s eyes moved to meet Eris’ through the window. They locked gazes only for a second or two. But to him, it felt like an hour. 

“I should be going,” Eris declared, forcing himself to break eye contact and fully turn to face Cassian. 

Then he was marching back into the house, but made sure not to look at Y/N – or anyone else in the room, for that matter. He didn’t pause in the room, not wanting to ruin the joy and comfort that had built in his absence. 

On his way to the front door, Eris lowered his mental shields for the first time in the presence of Rhysand and Feyre. 

Thank you for your hospitality, but I must return to Autumn Court, Eris mentally messaged the High Lord and Lady. 

You are welcome to visit her whenever you wish, Feyre answered. 

But Eris ignored her comment, and put his shield back up before they could say anything more on the matter of Y/N. 

“Please, wait.” A gentle voice begged, just as Eris reached the front door and had already opened it halfway. 

A chill went up his spine. He took a shallow breath, breathing in her scent now that it was not mixed with anything else. 

Eris slowly turned to find Y/N watching him hesitantly. 

This was only the second time they had ever been alone. 

His back straightened and his face went even colder, even more cryptic. 

“S-Sorry,” Y/N stuttered out. “I…I just wanted to know…”

She was interrupted by a wind that rushed from outside, brushing through Eris and Y/N.

It suddenly slammed the door shut that Eris had held half open. 

“Shhh!” Y/N muttered, clearly not speaking to him. 

Eris could easily see how mortals would call her crazy and think nothing more of it. But faes who have lived for hundreds of years could easily see that there was something more to the young woman. 

He tilted his head slightly. “Dare I ask what your little friend tells you now?”  

His voice almost sounded bored and disinterested. But his heart raced faster, fearing that perhaps the wind knew what Y/N was to him. 

Y/N’s eyes widened at his clear awareness of her gift. “T-They just say you should stay. But…but they won’t tell me why.”

“I must be going,” Eris told her harshly. “Was there something you needed?”

She nodded, but seemed less confident now with his performative coldness and annoyance. 

“Why…umm…why did you save me?” She sighed. 

Eris’ jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. “You would have died in that forest.” 

Y/N blinked at his blunt response. 

“And you could have just left me there,” she challenged. 

Eris looked around at the house they stood in. The home of the High Lord and Lady of a court that was not his own. 

“Do you have family? People in the mortal lands?” He asked, making sure to keep out any sympathy or affection in his voice. “You do not have to stay here.” 

But Y/N shook her head. “My cov–” She stopped herself. “My family is dead. I’ve been on my own for years.” 

“Your coven,” Eris said slowly, proving that he caught her mistake. 

She glared at him. “We are not what you think.”

He ignored her reply. “What happened to them?” 

“They were killed by the nearby village.” 

“By humans?” Eris persisted. 

“We could never settle in one place for long. People always assumed we brought some sort of evil with us. But all we ever wanted was to be left alone.” She shook her head as her eyes glazed over with the memory. “There was a plague going through the mortal realm. We had the pow–“ She stopped herself again, and cleared her throat. “We had the means to cure those suffering. But the village…they thought we had brought the illness.” Y/N’s voice shook as she continued, “The night we were brewing the medicine to save them was the night they chose to come and slaughter us.”

Eris felt his heart drop at his mate’s story. 

A silent tension filled the room. 

“I-I don’t know why I just told you all that,” Y/N mumbled, clearly annoyed with herself for oversharing with a stranger.

“Yet, you survived,” Eris pointed out, managing to still sound unmoved by her story. 

Y/N’s eyes stared at the floor as she whispered, “I shouldn’t have.”

All of Eris was screaming at him to go to his mate, to comfort her, to pull her into his arms. He wished to tell her that nothing like that would ever happen to her again, that he would keep her safe. 

But he couldn’t even keep her safe from his father, from his court. 

So, instead of doing or saying the things his heart begged for, he cleared his throat roughly and said, “I must being going.” 

And he walked down the path, only able to winnow when he finally left the protection wards of the River House. 

He didn’t turn back to give her a final look. 

Eris heard Y/N’s story... and gave her nothing. 

–––––

Let me know if you liked this! I love hearing from readers 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Still think only like 5 people are reading this silly fic. lol

Feel free to send me questions in an ask. Those always making me happy.

chapter vii

[moonlightazriel]

Bright as the Stars /// A Feysand Fic

Summary: Solstice comes around the corner and Rhysand has a special night planned for his mate.

Warnings: Fluffy and Smut

Word Count: 3,2K

Notes: My second year doing this and it's just as nice and funny as the first time. This is my gift for the @acotargiftexchange made especially for @itsthedoodle, i really hope you enjoy it, cuz i certainly did writing this piece.

Main Masterlist

Feyre took a deep breath, the city smelled like cinnamon, freshly cut trees, and mint. The winter solstice was just two days away and she had some last-minute shopping to do, Morrigan happily chatted with a fae behind the counter, trying to get a discount on a pair of emerald earrings for Amren. 

She had gotten gifts for everyone, but she still needed to find the perfect piece for Rhysand, her mate. After the events of Under the Mountain, she felt the mating bond snapping into place as she was ready to leave for Spring Court with Tamlin, when they got back home, she knew that it wouldn’t be fair to neither of them to keep pursuing a relationship with Tamlin. She wanted to explore the bond and he understood, thanking her for showing him love and compassion and telling her that he wanted her to be happy, even if that meant they wouldn’t be together anymore.

He had helped her reach out to Rhysand, and as the bond had snapped for him at the same time, Rhys immediately made sure to bring his mate home, wanting to know her, to be with her, he needed her, and now that he had her, he would never let her go again.

She sighed, looking around at the kids running from their parents, and the snow falling from the skies, everything felt magical in Velaris, she would never get used to it, a tiny snowflake fell on her open hand and she admired the intricate pattern it had. A warm hand squeezed her shoulders and she turned, to see Mor with the biggest grin and a box with the earrings in between her fingers. 

“We need to have hot chocolate, I’m freezing.” Mor said, walking towards one of the many coffee shops, filled with clients enjoying their meals. “This is the best one in the city, go have a seat, I’ll order for us.” 

Conversations filled her ears, and she just enjoyed the smell of fresh coffee beans, and cherry from a pretty pastry a few tables away. Feyre then thought of her sisters, Rhys was sending them money every month, and she wanted to visit but would her sisters welcome her? Years of sadness and loneliness filled her chest but she tried to shake the feelings away, they were doing just fine. And Feyre now had people who cared about her, people who would never leave her alone again. 

“Here.” Morrigan placed a plate with a chocolate chip cookie in it, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate, Feyre reached for the mug, the nice warmth spread on her hands even through the glove and she took a sip, the creamy texture melted in her tongue, her tastebuds almost hummed in delight with the flavor.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had.” Feyre hummed and Morrigan giggled, taking a bite of her cookie. 

“Are you excited for your first solstice? With your new life and everything.” Her intense brown eyes scanned the freckles that peppered her nose. 

“It feels weird to be getting gifts for everyone when I couldn’t even afford to feed myself a few years back.” Morrigan silently nodded, feeling her heart squeeze in her chest whenever she thought about how much Feyre had to fight to survive, proud filled her then, as she looked at her friend, stronger than ever and still gentle and kind. “But it also feels nice feeling that I belong somewhere.” Feyre gave her a small smile, to which Morrigan replied with a gentle squeeze on her hand. 

“You’re home now, Fey.” Her heart clenched in her chest, she hadn’t felt at home in a long time. She was thankful for all the sacrifices she had to make to be in this very moment right now. The hollowness and loneliness that filled her to the point of suffocating for so many years, is now gone and replaced by unconditional love for the family that chose her. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Colorful balls hung from the ceiling, decorated with glitter, a very sticky one that glued to Feyre’s fingers and hair, Rhys watched as the light would sometimes refract on the sparkly substance, making the female glow in front of his eyes. 

“Cassian, if you drop those damned lights again, I’ll hang you instead.” Azriel hissed, making the room burst into laughter, but Rhys could only watch the little dimples in the corners of her mouth and the slight scrunch of her blue eyes, as she curled forward, laughing with joy at Azriel's annoyed stance. He playfully rolled his eyes and kept trying to hang the lights that pooled at his feet. 

Feyre scanned the room, the inner circle helping set the decorations in the House of Wind. She was excited for the Winter Solstice, for the first time since she could remember, she would have a proper celebration, Elain would always braid her hair and place a flower behind her ear, claiming that Feyre’s special day should always be celebrated despite the conditions they had. 

Mor offered her another glass filled with wine and she took a sip, the sweet grapery taste filled her mouth and she shook her head a bit, she was never the strongest for alcohol, and with the few sips she already had, she felt her cheeks getting warmer. 

“Having fun, pretty girl?” Rhysand purred into her mind and her eyes darted toward him, the blush getting more intense as she noticed how he was already looking at her, she didn’t know why, but whenever he looked at her like that, like she was the only female he could ever love, she would get shy under his gaze, but she loved it anyway. 

“Are you?” She replied in his mind, wiggling her eyebrows at him. He smiled at her, shaking his head as he approached her, cradling her pretty face, stroking her cheek to wipe some of the glitter, and placing a stubborn strand of hair behind her pointy ear again. 

“I know you’re excited about the solstice tomorrow night, but I think it’s a nice time to let you know I have different plans.” Those big blue eyes blinked at him in confusion.

“I thought we were going to be spending here, with our family.” Rhysand almost dropped to his knees, hearing her calling his family, her family, made his heart melt, and he sent a wave of love down the bond.

“We will, we’re having lunch with them, but I have a surprise for you.” Feyre almost started to clap like a happy kid, the thought of having a surprise made just for her made her slightly drunk brain fill with happiness, she couldn’t wait for it.

“What is it?” She tried, knowing very well that Rhysand wouldn’t tell her, she even went as far as to try to see it by herself but his mental shields were held high up. 

“Easy, pretty girl. You’re going to know what it is at the right time.” He lowered his head, and the tip of his nose brushed against hers, Feyre closed her eyes, waiting for him to close the gap between their lips, but she felt his warm lips on her forehead instead, and Cassian cleared his throat, forcing her to remember they weren’t alone in the room.

She playfully groaned, opening her eyes and starting to get away from Rhys, reaching for more decorative balls so she could go back to decorating the house for tomorrow night. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Her belly hurt from how much she had laughed today, the lunch with the inner circle was just like it always was, filled with funny stories from their past and lots of food. Feyre was still thinking about Morrigan’s jokes as she rubbed her skin, the strawberry scent filled the room as she rubbed the pink foam on her legs. 

She scrubbed her scalp until she was happy with the results, climbing out of the tub and wrapping a towel around her hair and her body. The fog from the hot water still filled her room as she stepped out, and a cold breeze made her shiver. She eyed her dress, a long black dress glued to her body with a slit on one leg and tiny sleeves that fell just above her shoulders. 

She sat on her desk, removed the towel, and started to style it in loose blonde curls, a shade of brown coated her eyelids, and some eyeliner and mascara highlighted her eyes, a nude shade of lipstick was applied to perfect her plump lips. Feyre stared at herself for a minute, happy with the result, feeling pretty. She finished her look with some ruby earrings and went to put her dress on. 

The dress was spectacular, making her feel like a goddess of the night, Feyre strapped her heels just in time to hear a knock on her door. Dressed in fancy clothing, Azriel and Cassian stood by the other side of the door, bowing to her and Cass offered her his hand.

“We’re here to escort you, my lady.” He said in a posh tone, making the three of them laugh. She took his hand, and he guided the way, with Azriel following close behind. They walked down the stairs of the Townhouse, Mor was facing Rhys, fixing his bow tie before she turned to her with the biggest grin. 

Rhysand was absolutely perfect, hair slicked back, and in formal clothes. Feyre almost gasped at how handsome he looked, she couldn’t believe that such a male was her mate, she was so lucky. In three quick steps, he was in front of her, taking her hand away from Cassian and pulling her with him. 

“I don’t believe that there’s anyone as beautiful as you, and I don’t think there will ever be.” Feyre hid her face in his chest, feeling her cheeks getting hot at the compliment, Rhysand was always so good with his words. 

“You don’t look bad either.” She said and he ran a hand over his smooth hair. 

“I always look good, Feyre darling.” He pulled her closer by the waist. “Are you ready to go?” The female happily shook her head and Rhys winnowed the two of them, the cold winds and the strong smell of mist and night stars filled her senses as Rhys did his thing. 

The Moonstone Palace was decorated with little lights floating in the space above their heads, tiny snowflakes fell and the winds roared outside, but with the power around the space, they couldn't feel a thing, Rhysand’s power warming the place on a comfortable level. 

They headed to the balcony where a table was set with various foods and champagne, the stars shone on a veil of black in the sky, making the whole atmosphere even more magical. Feyre gasped, petals of white roses coated the floor, and Feyre almost cried at it, Rhysand still remembered how red made her feel even months after the events of Under the Mountain. 

“I have no words to express how much I love this.” She started, using her pinky fingers to wipe the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes. “No one has ever done something like this for me before.” Rhysand pulled a chair for her.

“Glad to be the first, then.” He sat in front of her, flicking his hands and a soft melody started to play, Feyre looked around trying to spot where the sound was coming from but to no avail. 

The food served was a combination of green salad, mashed potatoes with sautéed carrots, roasted chicken with green sauce, and a little sweet bread accompanied the food. The flavors flooded her mouth and they ate looking at the stars, casually exchanging some words. 

“You have some sauce right here.” Rhysand licked his thumb, reaching to wipe the sauce from the corner of her mouth, and applying gentle pressure on her skin, he took the thumb back to his own mouth, licking it clean as he kept eye contact with her, making Feyre swallow harshly. 

“I was always a messy eater.” She joked, remembering the times Nesta would scold her for eating like “a wild animal”. Rhys got up, extending a hand to her. 

“Would you like to dance?” The soft music was still playing in the background, Feyre allowed herself to be conducted by him, dancing under the stars, the slow dance made her heart swell with happiness and love, flooding the bond and Rhysand responded with his own feelings, such an intimate moment just for the two of them to appreciate.

Rhysand felt that he could be his true self around her, without judgment, that she would love all the parts of him despite how ugly they were. And all he could do was to love her in return, with every fiber of his being, he would love her until their time on this earth was over, and even then, people would still talk about the High Lord who loved his mate so much that he captured the stars, just for her. 

He slowly reached for his back pocket, hands grabbing the small box that was safely tucked away in his suit ever since he got ready later that evening. He pulled the box out, lifting it to the level of her eyes. The song slowly stopped and the eyes that had been closed during the whole dance started to slowly open until Feyre spotted the box.

Curiosity filled her being and she slowly reached for the box, opening it she found the most beautiful gift in the world. A crystal ball, held by a silver chain, glowing like a thousand suns. 

“You loved Starfall so much, that I thought that maybe you would want to have a star for yourself.” Rhys motioned for her to turn around, the crystal was cold against her skin as he clasped the piece together, turning Feyre again by her waist, he watched in awe as the star glowed against her skin, absolutely beautiful. 

“Rhys, this is…” She couldn’t finish as a sob parted through her open lips, tears of joy streamed down her face and she tried to control herself, but as she held the gift in her hands, it was almost impossible to stop crying. 

“I know.” He said, pulling her close. No words were needed when he could see the happiness that filled her eyes, how thankful she was for such a thoughtful gift. Feyre had never received something so perfect in her entire life, she would remember this for the rest of her life, and she would keep it around her neck, cradled near her heart for eternity. 

Feyre slowly lifted her head, lips quivering as she reached for him, closing the gap between their lips, his hands held her close as they kissed, a gentle brush of her lips against his at first, then slowly deepening the kiss, he guided them to a pile of covers and pillows resting at a corner, Rhys had intended that they would watch the stars and talk but if Feyre wanted to do something else, he was down for it. 

Laying her down, his hands slowly traveled down to her feet, strapping the heels off one after the other, then coming back up as he kissed her again, kicking his own shoes off. Her hands pulled the coat of his attire off, leaving him in just a white linen shirt. They kissed until their lungs begged to be filled with air. 

The smell of her arousal was driving him insane, he reached for the zipper at her side, brushing his hands over her right breast before he pulled it down, bringing the whole dress along. Her breasts spilled and he wetted his lips at the sight of her, Feyre was magnificent. 

“It’s unfair that I’m naked and you’re all covered.” Feyre pouted as Rhys finished removing her dress and underwear.

“Your wish is my command.” He replied, getting up and removing his clothes as quickly as he could. He looked down at her, where she lay with nothing but the star necklace illuminating her skin, and those mesmerizing eyes focused on him, Rhysand knew he was the luckiest male that ever walked on this planet. 

Feyre was ready for him as he got on top of her again, his finger easily sliding in with the wetness that pooled around her core, his thumb circled the bundle of nerves and she moaned, a beautiful little moan that hunted him ever since he heard it for the first time. 

“I need you Rhys.” She begged, her breath ragged as she looked at him. He nodded, grabbing his throbbing cock in his hands, pumping it two times before he slid inside her all the way down. She hugged him, preventing him from moving, just feeling him inside her for a while, the fullness she felt would always warm her body.  

“You are absolutely perfect, Feyre darling.” He purred, starting to slowly move his hips against her. Feyre cupped his face, thumb tracing his eyebrows, eyes, nose, cheekbones, and lips, Rhys melted with her touch, feeling the warmth that spread through his chest. 

He lowered his head, capturing her lips again, kissing her as his life depended on it, hips snapping against hers, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the whimpers she left, muffled by his lips, were the only things that filled the room at the moment. He kept moving, Feyre’s nails scratching his back as he made love to her. 

Rhysand caressed the bond, sending all of his love down the golden thread between them. Feyre felt the knot in her belly growing until it was ready to snap. He slid in and out, fast and hard, again and again until Feyre was clenching around him. Caging his cock inside her as she moaned his name, her walls milking him, making him spill his seed inside her, coating her walls in the white slick. 

He rested his forehead against hers, the two of them catching their breaths, chests moving up and down at a rapid pace. He kissed her forehead, meeting her blue eyes. 

“I love you.” He watched as Feyre moved her fingers, a velvety box appearing in between her hands, he smiled at her, he had shown her this little trick a few months ago. She popped the box up, revealing two identical rings inside. 

“Marry me!” She blurted and he felt all the strength of his body vanish, his knees almost buckling at the question, he expected any gift from her, but not the only thing he’d wanted the most.

“Of course, I’ll marry you.” He replied, feeling the tears in his eyes, kissing her on the lips, then he kissed her, on different spots of her face as she giggled. He got out of her, laying down by her side, pulling her to his chest. With the box in his hands, he reached for the smaller ring, sliding in her finger. Feyre copied his movements, sliding the bigger ring on his finger.

“Always and forever.” She whispered, his violet eyes met her. 

“Always and forever.” The two of them lay there, watching the stars. A shooting star passed in the sky and Feyre gasped.

“Quick, make a wish.” Rhys turned to his side, kissing her forehead.

“I already have everything that I need, right by my side.”

[freyjas-musings]

I don’t get why people say elains book is safe the next ? Sjm said she will write for all sisters but she never said they will come out right after the other? And for why she didn’t said yes immediately after asked if we know elains love interest and said it would be lucien, well why would she? What author already tells people what is going to happen in their book before it even comes out?

Its not obvious to me that elain will be next because in the last acotar book their was more of azriel and gwyn then elain?

Nesta and cassian had a bonas chapter and they got their book, azriel has a bonas with both elain and gwyn but who in their right mind still thinks az an elain are “soulmates” after that bonus chapter. The whole time i got the ick while reading how he behaved will elain it was just fuckboh behavior. Rhys is his brother i think id azriel would be sooo in love with elain he would find a way for them? But azriel couldn’t even say anything, he didn’t think about a future with her, just where he pleasures himself to the thought of her and who does that? Fuckboys who don’t want a future with someone sorry but i wouldn’t want to date someone who thinks like that about me.

Sorry for rambling but i just had to get that of my chest 😂😂

Elain hasn't been set up enough to have the next book , I am not sure what popular stuff people are on these days but it must be potent in order to come to that hallucination but its really ok , it's not the worst assumption or theory out there. People can assume whatever they want and have fun while it lasts .

Personally I believe it will be Azriel's book. I often have people trying to pull me into debates but its just obvious its silly to argue about it.

Also, I do condemn Azriels thoughts on Elain in the bonus , it's never ok to treat anyone like an object you feel entitled to. It's still beyond me how someone can read that bonus and think it's romantic, reading badly written books and inexperience in life would explain it though. Clearly they both barely know each other and its not love . As an Azriel stan I would like Az to find that epic , intense , all consuming love that doesn't need to be hidden , for a guy that was locked away as a child for 11 years like some dirty secret it would just not make sense that he has to be a part of " forbidden romance " its just cruel.

Also, I think this fandom takes it too far with the "Fuckboy" image of Az , he is desparate and lonely , he also has a whole lot of unresolved trauma that has left him feeling rejected all his life, Elain lead him on , made her interest obvious so he would obviously think it was worth a shot. I don't think Az even knows what a healthy relationship looks like and Elain clearly has her own set of issues she is dealing with , they are at the best each others rebound.

What makes Az look worse is the fact that SJM changed from a Moriel endgame in ACOMAF which compromises the way the characters look in ACOWAR and I mean both Az and Mor. I am hoping after his book some of that will be amended.

Azriel is a grey character but he certainly is a lot more interesting compared to some other characters from the series who often seem very one dimensional and lack complexity and depth and seriously lack appeal . I truly believe Azriels story will the most intriguing, complex and satisfying journeys and I look forward to it .

And as for the whole Elain book or Az book? As long as people realise it's one OR the other who cares ? We will eventually get both the Gwynriel and Elucien book 🤗

[vidalinav]

https://www.tumblr.com/vidalinav/712546999526998016/omega-verse-nessian-with-nesta-nesting-haha

I’m sorry you can’t just say this and leave it at that (jokes of course)

I would give you my firstborn child for this

I said a lot of things in this post so which one was I leaving you hanging on? I just chose one at random since I felt like writing, but not finishing something.

~ "Where are you going?" Azriel asked, raising a brow at the blankets in his arms.

There was six if his brother bothered to count and Cassian hoped he didn't, because he wouldn't know what to say to explain why he had so many. He couldn't help himself was the only thing that came to mind, but then again, when could he help himself?

Certainly not when they'd first met the Archeron sisters in all their glory and Nesta had raised her haughty nose and he'd insulted her very existence. Certainly not when he'd spent three days servicing her heat after she'd opened the door, flushed and squirming, and she'd become so desperate for him that he nearly bit her right then. She'd kicked him square in the nuts the next morning and still Cassian held the blasphemous blankets in his arms.

Maybe it was when he caught her tear and he'd made a number of promises that he couldn't keep and not keeping them was as good as a knife wound he could never heal from. She could twist it, he decided. If she wanted to, she could take take the knife out and stab him again, and he'd come right back so she could do it again, because Cassian couldn't help himself.

But Cassian couldn't rightfully explain why he had one blanket of wool so as to keep Nesta warm when she was holed up in the house of all places and one of cashmere incase she wanted something soft. One in a greyish blue he'd only seen in her eyes. One in a bright red... just in case she thought of him. One in a knitted pattern that reminded him of her and another so plush he could see her hoarding it into her nest like a little dragon.

He didn't get to see much of her nest the last time. The only thing he'd paid attention to was her scent and her body, begging for his touch. Cassian wished he'd paid more attention to the blankets and the baskets and the color of her room, and the trinkets on her nightstand and the books along her wall. The things she wore when she was home and alone, though she didn't wear much after he'd arrived.

Cassian was trying his best to fill in the gaps, and he'd hoped any of these provided the comfort she desperately deserved. Especially now, when she'd lost the human comforts that once was her whole life.

So, Cassian lifted his wings to Azriel in answer and casually offered, "I'm going to stretch my wings."

But that wasn't a good enough explanation for the shadowsinger and not for his high lord either, who shuffled down his newspaper and gave him a look that meant he didn't need to read his mind to know he was lying.

Rhys hummed a non-committed sound, squinting at the sheer volume. "And the blankets?"

"If I get cold, I'll have something to keep me warm. You, of all people, told me to take extra care of them while they're still healing."

"Yes, but why six?"

Azriel jutted his chin to the basket encased in his hand. "And what's in there?"

Cassian rolled his eyes and even that movement made him think of the female locked away in a mountain top who needed to eat something before she withered away. "Why do you need to know?"

It was Rhys who answered, fluffing his newspaper as if a dismissal. "Because I don't want to hear a complaint from an Archeron sister about a harassment from a moony Illyrian... especially when she still won't let us help her."

Which is why, Cassian wanted to argue, this was exactly what he needed to do. He'd been up there every morning for two weeks and she'd thrown a book at him, roared at him, flipped him off, but it had taken effort.

She'd been quiet, always looking to check on Elain as if she wasn't also irrevocably changed. It had taken him too long to see that ire, hear that scoff, summon that storm in her eyes, and it had scared him almost as much as seeing her head dunked under that cauldron. Cassian wasn't sure when it started--when he began to bring gifts with him and tiny trinkets and books-- but he'd done it every day this week.

If she'd thrown it out the window when he left, he didn't know. Cassian didn't care, because at least it was a movement, a moment, a true emotion.

The basket had food. Sweets, in fact, because it was the only thing he knew she would eat. She'd refused the chicken, the roast, the curry, the stew, but after every day the one thing she'd touch was the dessert.

So today, he'd brought enough dessert to feed a small army and maybe he'd snuck in the zucchini bread and the carrot cake to provide some semblance of a vegetable intake and maybe he'd still packed bread albeit with honey butter, and maybe he'd still packed a meal she could share with Elain. Pasta with roasted butternut squash.

But she would eat, if it was the last thing he'd do.

Rhys snorted, " and if you're not careful, she might hang you from the House of Wind with those blankets and how will I explain that to the people of Velaris."

To be continued

[nikethestatue]

god you were so right with that post about wtf cassian even does cause i was thinking about that the other day. like he has all this free time apparently and can train the valkyries instead of being among the soldiers he actually commands? like shouldn’t he be continually trying to build rapport and get to personally know as many of illyrians as possible since they, at best, begrudgingly tolerate him and rhys out of obligation? maybe he could even train some of the females himself and find allies who also want to work against the deep rooted misogyny and mistreatment. cause there’s certainly gotta be others.

better yet though, what does the IC in general do each day? 😭 sure they all got their roles and specialties when shit’s going down and there’s official matters at hand but like… beyond that? job descriptions? don’t know her. rhys does god knows what. correspondence and bureaucratic paperwork? feyre’s painting and giving art lessons to children if she’s not with rhys. amren’s doing puzzles or banging varian. mor’s… doing whatever it is she does — at one point i swear rhys says she’s the one who actually runs velaris and hewn city so then like what does he do??

azriel seems to be the only one busting his ass on the regular and it’s just expected of him. he really be off on missions constantly but is like on the bottom rung of the IC ladder. homeboy’s gotta be the most qualified in his position out of all of them. he’s got hella work experience, been doin the same job since rhys’ daddy was still HL. istg rhys better be bankrolling every single one of that dude’s living expenses and then some. at the very least once in a while just tell him like “hey bro i know we been through some shit but i appreciate your commitment to the wellbeing of this court and i love you unconditionally” ya know? #FreeMyBrotherAz

it seems like he kinda got pigeonholed into his line of work cause of what he is but he continues to do it to be able to protect the people he cares about and that outweighs any personal desires. but like what if deep down he wants to be a choral director or interior designer or something?

that being said: in a hypothetical near future, the Big Bad™️ has been defeated and prythian enters an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity across the courts. the IC is relieved of their official duties until further notice and rhys instructs them to take up work elsewhere. what occupations are each of them choosing?

I wondered that as well. Like what do they do?

SJM seems to think that Generals are only needed during war times. There seems to be nothing that the military is waiting for beyond the NEXT BIG WAR. Which comes about every 500 years.

So like does Cassian only work every 500 years?

The rest of them--I have no idea. Even worse, when Rhys was 'bad' and had no associations with other Courts, WHAT DID HE DO?

Also, what do they even need to do when there is magic? Why do you need to do anything. SJM seems to think there is some kind of feudal system in Prythian, where the HLs sit and listen to problems and collect tithe. Shouldnt there be others to do that for them? Why are there no cabinets? Who is in charge of education? transportation? agriculture?

Yeah, I've always felt like the only person in the IC with an actual JOB where he has to do things all the time is Az. And like, Rhys, get off his back. If he wants to kiss Elain, let him kiss Elain.

The only other person who works there is Nesta. They keep dragging her into weird missions and ask her to do dangerous stuff.

And Elain cooks and minds the kid.

The rest, apparently, live a life of leisure.

[elains]

Rhys=as++ole. Especially after hosaf. his reaction to Nesta (who saved his,his wife's child's life, is his sister in law,helped them many times) didn't deserve that treatment. get angry but not like this. argue human and careful and not scolidng like she is a little child. As for Cassian, we didn't really see enough. IDK why SJM made it like Nesta is a victim makes no sense (everyone scolds her(even AZ in the cave), but I can imagine Cassian looked pissed because of rhys as was Feyre thankfully

Okay so, you need to take a few things into account here: the one whose PoV we inhabit for the bonus is Ember, whose world Nesta just risked quite a lot to try to help out of sheer dumb faith. She is not am unbiased party in all this. She believes her daughter can succeed and that what Nesta did was right. Rhysand coming off as the big bad who is scolding Nesta for handing over theMmask is actually pretty reasonable within her perspective.

The other one is Sarah J. Maas herself and how she frames the narrative and is present throughtout it. Sarah always knew everything was going to work out, that Nesta's gamble would pay off, that Bryce would succeed and take down the Asteri. Nesta does come off as a victim because to the omniscient author who knows how things are going to work out, she took the choice that would lead to the best possible outcome: trusting Bryce. Nesta is a victim insofar as the good ending is a foregone conclusion and the author and us have this knowledge.

While I do think Rhys could have handled the situation with far more grace than he did, I maintain that their past animosity came to forefront. Yes, you are correct, anon: Nesta saved his family's lives, himself included, but gratitude and common ground are just a step in the right direction. Yeah, what Nesta did was MASSIVE, but some grudges have deep roots and aren't easily uprooted. This is human nature at its finest.

That said, I don't think he was being any more of an asshole than usual. Certainly not more than when he withheld pregnancy information for Feyre. This time around, Rhysand's reasons to be spitting mad are extremely valid and quite frankly, understandable. If there ever was matter to ge indescribably mad over, it was this one.When you look at it objectively, stepping back Omniscient Author or Reader's Viewpoint, you have this:

Nesta just gambled the entire safety of their world on a woman who has not shown herself to be worthy of any trust and who she knew for like two/three days most. Bryce offered no assurance of victory just her parents as collateral. That speaks of her determination; it does not speak of her actual chances.

It was a shot in the dark. It could have costed everything. We have the privilege of knowing it would work out. All the characters did not and if Bryce never returned, they would spend the rest of their existences in fear that the Daglan were waiting to show up on their doorstep.

My point, anon, it's that it's very easy to say "Get Angry, but Not like this" for us on the outside. For Nesta, who has the blessing of Sarah because it will all work out. For Ember, whose world she risked to save. For the people inside, Prythian, however, who are not privy to this knowledge... I can understand the absolute rage and thinking Nesta was a goddamn thoughtless, reckless for just handing over the Mask.

And Cassian... I understand he was in a tight spot and probably mad at the risk Nesta took as well but you know... I just wanted to see more. I didn't need him to be full on the Nesta Defense Squad, but more than what we got.

[faithsknife]

46, Goldrose👀

envy or jealousy+ goldrose? ;) perfect

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

Across the room, Rhys could see Joe, looking sharp as ever, but he was being accompanied by Kate. The same woman whose father was trying to bury him during the mayoral race. A feeling bubbled inside Rhys, and he was ashamed to say he felt...envious. He had yet to make his feelings for Joe known. In fact, all he had done so far was make Joe smash records and become enraged about killing for him (despite how he'd done it many times before).

Rhys got himself another drink from the bar, and this time it was three fingers of whiskey. It was bloody ridiculous to behave this way, especially when he was running for mayor. Appearances were everything, after all.

He waited at the bar, facing the crowd of people partying like animals and laughing like they had no care in the world. And they certainly didn't. Rhys impatiently watched Joe pretend to mingle with the same people he loathed. Meanwhile, the slender hand that touched Joe's arm made Rhys grit his teeth.

As soon as Kate was pulled off somewhere by Phoebe, that's when Rhys left the bar and approached the man.

“Evening, Jonathan. Do you figure we could slip away for a chat?” Rhys could barely hide the irritation on his face.

Rather than play a game of resistance, Joe rolled his eyes and followed Rhys' lead to a more secluded area in Sundry House. The sounds from the wild events of Adam's haven for insanity were drowned out. And all that was left was them.

"What the hell do you want now, Rhys? I framed that unstable woman for you, and I'm planning to take care of Tom Lockwood. What more do you want?" Joe looked utterly exhausted by their conversation. And that didn't sit well with Rhys in the slightest.

"Nothing. I'm just curious what you want."

"What I want? What -"

Rhys scoffed before backing Joe up against the door of the incredibly furnished room. "Are you here with Kate because you actually fancy her or are you using her to stop thinking about me?"

The startled look on Joe's face made Rhys cup the other man's cheek. He held him like a holy thing, and Joe looked at him like he was in the presence of a god. Shaken and uncertain of the best course of action.

"She can't give you what you really need, Joe. Let me give that to you." Rhys let his hand fall from Joe's face and pressed flush against him. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

When he got no objection from Joe and a hand shakily rested against Rhys' side and slipped under his shirt, Rhys inhaled the scent near Joe's neck. And from there, Rhys found his way to Joe's lips. He kissed Joe with an urgency like they required each other to breathe. Rhys let out all the cloudy emotions he felt over Kate trying to claim Joe by grinding against him, as he kissed him roughly.

Fuck Kate.

Rhys guided them towards the unused bed, never breaking the kiss until the back of Joe's knees hit the bed. He pushed the man who was perfect for him and vice versa, onto the bed and settled over him. They kept kissing and with each touch and touching of tongues, Rhys made it clear who deserved Joe.

Each kiss made Joe stir under him, and that stirring turned into Joe eventually pulling away. He moved out from underneath Rhys with his hair dishevelled and his lips swollen.

"I have to go, Kate is going to wonder where I went." Joe didn't spare Rhys a single glance before speeding out of the room.

Rhys caught his breath and stared up at the ceiling to plot out how he was going to take care of Katherine.

[yanderes-galore]

With Borderlands here, may I ask for headcanons of Rhys vs Katagawa? Darling is probably in a tight place, being pursued by the two

They act like such children when fighting, lol.

Yandere! Rhys vs Katagawa Jr.

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Jealousy, Manipulation, Bribing, Murder, Violence, Forced relationships.

You are certainly in a tricky situation.

Two heads of corporations want to have your heart...

How unfortunate.

The better one to go with would probably be Rhys.

Rhys genuinely wants the best for his darling and is very dedicated to you.

Katagawa Jr. is a different story... he's always had trouble making friends.

He tried to force friendship from Rhys by buying out Atlas.

While Rhys is caring and tries to give you everything from the bottom of his heart...

Katagawa Jr. would do anything from bribing to murder to obtain your heart.

Katagawa is a firm believer in buying what he wants.

Just name the price of your heart and he'll pay it.

The idea of stealing you from Rhys is a nice benefit in his eyes.

Rhys is going to try and tell you that Katagawa won't treat you well.

With Rhys he offers you all of what he has, no bribing required!

You could ask him for anything and he'd do it.

Rhys says Katagawa is trying to give you money and gifts to keep you obedient like a pet more than love.

If that's true or not doesn't matter to you...

You're scared of your situation.

Sure, Rhys is genuine...

Yet Katagawa is rather persistent.

Katagawa keeps contacting you, preaching ways for you two to work things out.

He could give you so much more than Rhys...

You just have to leave Atlas and come to Maliwan, then he'll shower you in affection.

The sad part is he probably thinks you're supposed to buy your love's heart.

As said before, he is horrendous with connecting to others.

Rhys, being as insecure as he is, is praying that you don't fall for Katagawa's offers.

He's hoping you care for him enough to not toss him aside-

Katagawa's motives could be just to get back at Rhys.

That or maybe he has fallen for you.

Whatever the motive for the both of them... you hear them talk about you on their calls a ton.

They fight like children over the phone.

You start to wonder if they both see you as a person or not.

The two men have a ton of power.

Rhys managed to grow Atlas since he took over.

Katagawa killed his family members to get where he is.

You want to run away...

But how do you hide from two powerful CEOs like them?

Rhys will look for you with help from Zer0 and possibly a Vault Hunter.

Katagawa has COV on his side due to a deal.

Katagawa is more than willing to spill blood to get what he wants.

Rhys is hesitant with all the violence for a moment, yet he thinks of you...

It quickly becomes worth it.

The war between them on Promethea becomes more than just business.

It's not just because Katagawa can't buy Atlas...

It's now because you're the newest prize.

It hurts to know people are dying because of you.

You can't escape that.

You can take the money from Katagawa and spare many lives...

You'd live in luxury, dressed all nice and treated like a prize.

Katagawa does often try to manipulate you into staying with him... promising to give endless affection if you agree-

Then there's Rhys, willing to work with what he has and listen to you.

More would die but you may be happier.

Rhys doesn't want to buy your heart... he wants to earn it.

The choice tears at you from the inside, morals making your head throb...

Why is it all up to you and who will you choose?